[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

Jaune had always been the guy who tried too hard and still came up short. But the day he accidentally unlocked his mother's old Strength Enhancing Technique, everything changed.

He didn't even mean to do it. He'd watched his mom do it a hundred times back home—casual flex of Aura, a faint golden shimmer along her arms, and suddenly she could haul firewood like it was kindling. One afternoon in Vale's central park, Jaune saw a little girl crying under a tree because her cat, Mister Whiskers, had climbed too high. Without thinking, he reached for his Aura the way he'd seen her do it.

The surge hit him like warm lightning.

He wrapped both hands around the trunk of a full-grown oak and pulled.

The tree came up roots and all, dirt cascading down like brown rain. Jaune gave it an experimental shake. "Come on, Mister Whiskers… come out…!"

A small orange tabby dropped neatly into the waiting arms of the little girl.

So did Blake Belladonna.

She landed in a crouch, ears flat, amber eyes narrowed. The little girl hugged her cat and beamed up at Jaune. "Thanks, mister!"

"No problem!" Jaune said brightly, trying to figure out how to set a whole tree down gently. He didn't quite manage it. The oak slipped from his grip and crashed down—directly on top of a speeding getaway car the Vale PD had been chasing for three blocks.

Metal crumpled. Sirens wailed to a stop. Two officers jumped out, stared at the pinned vehicle, then at the sheepish blond holding a handful of broken roots.

"Thanks, kid!" one cop called. "Great work!"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck. "Um… no problem…? Blake?"

Blake brushed leaves from her sleeves, expression unreadable. "Jaune."

A week later, Team RWBY's dorm was the scene of minor tragedy.

Ruby lay flat on the floor, one arm stretched futilely under the common-room fridge. "Ah, dang it! I dropped the new focusing lens for Crescent Rose…

Hey, Yang, can you—"

"I got you, Ruby!" Jaune chirped, already striding over.

He bent, slipped one hand under the fridge, and lifted the entire thing one-armed, like it was an empty cardboard box.

Ruby blinked up at the suddenly exposed underside. "There it is!"

She snatched the lens, dusted it off, and only then noticed the fridge was still hovering three feet off the ground.

"Uh… you can drop the fridge now, right?"

"Oh! Right." Jaune carefully lowered it back into place, though he reached out and swept several items out from underneath it.

"That's... A lot of stuff," Jaune observed.

A silver locket, a hairbrush, fifty lien in crumpled bills, and—Ruby's face heating bright red—a dog-eared paperback titled Captive Ninja Kunoichi, cover featuring a suspiciously familiar dark-haired Faunus in strategic ropes.

Blake appeared in the doorway, took in the scene, and plucked the book from the pile without a word.

"I wondered where that went."

Jaune's blush reached his ears.

The real test came in the Emerald Forest during a routine Grimm-clearing exercise.

A Deathstalker the size of a city bus burst from the underbrush, tail stinger already arcing toward Jaune. He threw his shield up on reflex. The tail struck with a sound like a cannon shot.

Jaune didn't move an inch.

The Deathstalker recoiled, confused. It struck again. And again. Each impact rang against Crocea Mors like a hammer on an anvil, but Jaune stood rooted, boots sunk half an inch into the soil, utterly unmoved.

He glanced over his shield at his teammates. "Huh. Uh… can someone kill this thing now?"

Weiss's jaw actually dropped. "What—HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?!"

Jaune shrugged, still holding back the furious Grimm with one arm. "I dunno, but it is!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Schnee mansion's grand foyer felt colder than Atlas winter that night.

Winter Schnee stood before her father's desk in the study, uniform crisp, posture flawless—even as Jacques Gele's words cut deeper than any blade.

"You are no longer a Schnee," he said, voice like frostbite. "You defy me at every turn—enlisting in the military, rejecting the company's future. Leave this house. You are disowned."

Willow sat silent in the corner, glass in hand, eyes distant. Whitley and Weiss weren't present—spared this, at least.

Winter's chin lifted. "If that's your decision, Father, I accept it."

She turned on her heel, strides measured, refusing to let him see the tremor in her hands.

Fafnir stood guard outside the study doors—seven feet of shadowed menace, wings folded like a cloak, red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He didn't move as she passed, but his gaze followed her.

Winter paused at the top of the grand staircase, duffel bag slung over one shoulder—the few belongings she'd packed in defiance. She looked back at him.

"You're letting me go," she said quietly. "Just like that."

Fafnir's masked face was unreadable. "You're not a prisoner."

She descended a few steps, then stopped, turning to face him fully.

"You're a warrior, Fafnir. I've seen it—felt it—in every training session you risked giving me. You have honor. Code. Why do you continue to serve him? He's a corrupt monster who treats his own blood like assets to discard."

Fafnir was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, gravel over steel.

"I owe him my life. More than once. He pulled me from the gutter, gave me purpose when my clan was ash. Paid for these—" he flexed his cybernetic claw, metal gleaming—"when assassins left me in pieces. Debts like that don't fade."

Winter's eyes narrowed. "And I owe him nothing. I'm his daughter, not his debtor."

"You owe him your life too," Fafnir said bluntly. "The privilege you were born into. The safety these walls gave you. But you're right—you're not his daughter anymore."

He stepped closer, towering over her, but there was no threat in it—only a strange, solemn weight.

"Go," he said. "Become strong. Stronger than him. Stronger than the chains he thinks he forged."

Winter searched his scarred, masked face for mockery and found none.

"You truly mean that."

"I do."

She exhaled slowly, the anger and hurt shifting into something fiercer—resolve.

"I will," she said. "I'll become the soldier he never wanted. The protector he couldn't buy."

Fafnir inclined his head—a rare gesture of respect.

"Then go, Winter Schnee-no-more. And don't look back."

She did exactly that—walked down the stairs, through the doors, into the Atlas night without hesitation.

But his words burned in her chest like a glyph she'd never forget.

Become strong.

She would.

For herself.

And someday, perhaps, strong enough to face even the dragon who'd let her go.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Altas, Solitas

- - -

The Schnee manor's sub-basement archive was a tomb of secrets—rows of locked filing cabinets, holographic projectors flickering with decades of ledgers, the air cold, dry and stale. The kind of air that sucked any warmth from your body, from your soul.

Whitley Schnee—sixteen, suit impeccable despite the late hour—sat at the central terminal, fingers flying over keys as he cross-referenced financial discrepancies. Years of quiet observation, of playing the perfect son while cataloging every lie, every bribe, every disappeared worker. It had all come down to this.

Fafnir stood behind him, a silent colossus—wings folded tight, cybernetic mask reflecting the screen's glow. He'd provided the access codes, the hidden drives, the muscle to retrieve what Jacques thought buried.

They'd been at it for hours.

Whitley paused, leaning back in the chair. His voice was quiet, but it cut the silence like ice cracking.

"Why are you doing this?"

Fafnir didn't move. Red eyes fixed on the screen.

"You're risking everything. Father's kill switches—your implants—he could end you with a command. You've served him faithfully for decades. Why betray him now? For me?"

Fafnir's claw flexed once—metal on metal.

"I swore to protect this family," he said finally, voice low thunder. "Not just Jacques. The bloodline. The name."

Whitley turned in the chair, searching the dragon's scarred, masked face.

"You protected us. Stood outside our doors. Trained Winter and Weiss in secret. But you also… did things. For him."

Fafnir's gaze dropped—a rare flicker of something like shame.

"Warden Schnee," he said.

Whitley's breath caught. He'd been young—too young to understand—but the stories lingered. Uncle Warden, the outspoken advocate for miners, found dead in a "Faunus terrorist breach." He'd been told that precursors to the White Fang had done it. They'd kept killing people in the SDC, after all. What was one more?

Yet... The look in Fafnir's eyes...

"You were there," he whispered, "That night."

"I was ordered to let it happen." Fafnir's voice was flat, but the weight behind it crushed the air. "Jacques feared Warden's influence. His voice for the workers. I… arranged the breach. Ensured he died."

The confession hung like smoke.

Whitley stared, throat tight.

"You murdered him," he managed, a low whisper.

"I failed to save him," Fafnir corrected, the distinction raw. "On purpose. Warden was a proud warrior. Strong. Honorable in his way. He saw what Jacques was becoming. I respected him. And I killed him anyway."

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Whitley's hands trembled in his lap. "Then why help me now? Why risk everything to expose the man you killed for? Why...?"

Fafnir stepped closer, towering but not threatening.

"Because you have his determination. Warden's fire, buried under manners and fear. You see the rot. You're willing to cut it out." He shook his head. "You live behind masks, but unlike your sisters, you made it into a weapon. I owe him too much to act directly... But you want to make things... Better. So I try to restore my honor, through your desire for justice."

Whitley's eyes burned—anger, grief, something perilously close to gratitude. He lowered his eyes to hide it.

"No one else sees that in me," he whispered. "Not Mother. Not Winter. Not Weiss. They look at me and see Father's shadow. His puppet."

Fafnir's claw rested—gentle despite the metal—on Whitley's shoulder.

"They're wrong. But you'll have to face them someday. So... prove it."

Whitley looked up, voice cracking. He got himself under control, but only just.

"Thank you. At least… at least you see me. Unlike my sisters."

Fafnir's masked face was unreadable, but his tone carried old, weary certainty.

"Strength isn't just in blades or glyphs, boy. It's in choosing when to strike. You're choosing now. That's the beginning."

He turned back to the terminal, pulling up another encrypted file.

"We have work left to do."

Whitley exhaled shakily, wiping his eyes once—quick, angry—before turning back to the screen.

- - -

Another bit with Fafnir and his relationship with the Schnees. Maybe a bit too emotional, but I wanted to get across that just as Klein was a father figure to Winter and Weiss, Fafnir too had a paternal relationship, of sorts, with Whitley.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Hellenic League (also called the Argive League or Western Anima Confederation) is a loose confederation of independent city-states (poleis) clustered along the western coast of Anima, in what is now nominally part of Mistral but functions as a de facto autonomous region. Geographically, it occupies fertile coastal plains, hilly hinterlands, and strategic harbors, making it a major trade hub connecting Vale, Vacuo, and the rest of Anima. Culturally, it blends ancient Hellenic traditions (philosophy, theater, athletics, democratic/oligarchic governance experiments) with heavy Mistralian influences (elegant calligraphy, silk-like textiles, Confucian-style bureaucracy in administration, and dragon motifs in art/architecture from the era of Iksander's conquests).



Historical Background

The League traces its origins to the pre-Tablebreaker era, when the Hellenic poleis were unified under Iksander the Great (the Alexander analogue, a legendary conqueror and distant ancestor of Pyrrha Nikos). Iksander's empire exploded outward from the western coast, conquering much of Anima (including Mistral proper), northern Vale, parts of Vacuo, and even reaching into distant Pandu, Rostram, and Taejo. His campaigns spread Hellenic language, art, philosophy, and military tactics (phalanx formations, hoplite warfare) across continents, while absorbing eastern elements that gave rise to the Greco-Mistralian fusion seen in modern Argus (e.g., columned temples with pagoda roofs, Olympic-style games alongside Mistralian festivals).



After Iksander's death, the empire fragmented rapidly. The western poleis reformed as the Hellenic League to preserve their independence and cultural identity. Later, the Quintalan Empire conquered much of western Anima, imposing centralized administration, roads, aqueducts, and legal codes while allowing local governance and Hellenic customs to persist. The Quintalan collapse left the League semi-independent again, nominally under Mistral but effectively self-ruling due to Mistral's chronic disunity. Over the next several centuries Mistral would at times rule over the Hellenes, then lose their grip while other powers rose and fell. They were briefly ruled over by the tyrannical Witch Queen of Argus, but this dictator was slain in single combat by the legendary Jeanne D'Arc of Radian, who went home and left the poleis to rebuild themselves. The Eastern Sanusian nations that would eventually form Vale competed to rule the poleis for centuries while colonizing and building empires across Remnant, but still the Hellenes would hold onto their cultural identity.



In the modern era (post-Great War), the League maintains nominal allegiance to Mistral (sending tribute delegates to the capital, acknowledging the loose confederation) but operates with near-total autonomy. It hosts an Atlas military base in Argus, enjoys strong trade ties with Vale and a military base in Asterius, and trades with Vacuo, Pandu, Fuujin, Taejo, Rostram and Menagerie. This independence rankles Mistral hardliners (especially Yellow Dragon expansionists), but the League's naval strength and Atlas/Valean backing deter direct interference.



Religiously, the League converted en masse to the Tablebreaker faith centuries ago. Ancient Olympian worship mostly survives only in folklore, festivals, art, literature and music—temples are for the most part now repurposed as churches or museums, though there are some followers of it still.



Major City-States

The League comprises dozens of poleis, but seven form the core council (the "Seven Eyes," nodding to Argus Panoptes). Each is named for a Hellenic monster/mythical figure, reflecting ancient founding myths where heroes tamed or descended from such beings.



Argus (largest, de facto capital; Athens analogue with Argos heritage) Patron heritage: Argus Panoptes (the all-seeing giant).
Modern role: Intellectual/cultural center; philosophy academies, theaters, bustling markets, universities and strong tech base. Strong democratic traditions (assembly votes on major policy). Hosts the League's Pan-Hellenic Games every four years. Allows Atlas base; Pyrrha Nikos's ancestral home. Fiercely proud, views itself as cultural superior to "barbarian" Mistral. Powerful navy.
Asterius (Sparta analogue) Patron heritage: Asterius the Minotaur (labyrinthine strength).
Modern role: Militaristic powerhouse; rigorous agoge-style training for youth, elite hoplite/phalanx units. Semi-democratic but primarily oligarchic rule by warrior council. Rival to Argus (historical wars over border lands); emphasizes discipline over philosophy. Has a Valean military base. Excellent infantry and special forces and world class military academy.
Chiron (Corinth analogue) Patron heritage: Chiron the wise centaur.
Modern role: Commercial/trade hub; strategic isthmus-like ports, shipbuilding, finance. Balanced democratic oligarchy with merchant-prince families. Hosts smaller Isthmian-style games focused on water sports. Massive fishing industries.
Medusa (Thebes analogue) Patron heritage: Medusa the Gorgon (petrifying gaze as metaphor for unyielding defense).
Modern role: Fortified inland stronghold; strong walls, Boeotian League-style federation of nearby towns. History of siding with invaders, leading to lingering distrust from other poleis. Has excellent relations with Vacuo, Fuujin, and others-Has many casinos and centers of financial trade.
Polyphemus (Macedon analogue) Patron heritage: Polyphemus the Cyclops (raw strength, one-eyed vision as strategic foresight).
Modern role: Northern/mountainous region; heavy Dust and other mining operations, mechanized and other cavalry-heavy armies, expansionist history. Constitutional monarchy; supplies heavy infantry and military machinery to League defense and hosts many PMCs and tech companies, especially military oriented.
Typhon (Delphi analogue) Patron heritage: Typhon the storm giant.
Modern role: Oracle/shrine center; Tablebreaker monastery on volcanic slopes, but also the old Olympian Oracle temple where visions of the future can be read to the believers. Hosts Pythian-style games with musical/poetic contests alongside athletics. Artistic and scholarly, with music and dance academies and a focus on the humanities as well as religious and literary archives. Also features a Huntsman Academy; trains Huntsmen with emphasis on beast-slaying lore. Produces many elite warriors and support personnel for Hunters Association, PMCs, and militaries. Neutral arbiter in League disputes.
Echidna (Samos analogue) Patron heritage: Echidna the Mother of Monsters (serpent-woman, progenitor of beasts; reframed as primordial earth/sea mother or guardian spirit whose "offspring" were tamed by heroes).
Modern role: Island polis off the western coast; major maritime/trade power with fertile plains and strategic harbors. Famous for its grand Heraion sanctuary (repurposed as a Tablebreaker cathedral blending Hera iconography with serpent-mother motifs—e.g., sacred willow/serpent motifs in art). Engineering and philosophical schools. Balanced oligarchy with merchant and priestly families. Leans more towards Vacuo due to ancient relations in the past but tries to stay fairly neutral.


Smaller poleis include Chimera, Hydra, Scylla/Charybdis, Harpy, and many others, each with unique local customs but subordinate to the Seven in League matters.



Government & Society

Loose confederation: Annual council in Argus (rotating presidency). Each polis sends delegates; decisions require supermajority. Common defense, trade pacts, Games organization.
Internal rivalries: Fierce (Argus vs. Asterius debates, Medusa's old "traitor" stigma). Ostracism/exile for overly ambitious leaders or traitors rather than execution-Making them brave the wilds and Grimm alone is seen as a suitable punishment.
Pan-Hellenic Games: Major unifying event (every 4 years in Argus; cycle includes regional variants in Chiron/Typhon). Events: foot races, pentathlon (wrestling, long jump, javelin, discus, stadion), combat sports (boxing, pankration—no biting/gouging), chariot and horse racing. Winners get wreaths (olive in Argus, laurel in Typhon, etc.); multiple victories earn statues. Pyrrha's wins boosted her fame/prestige across the League alongside her wins in more traditional combat leagues.
Modern character: Culturally arrogant (Hellenic superiority complex vs. "barbarians" who aped their philosophy and culture), but pragmatic (trade with Vale/Vacuo, Atlas and Vale bases for security). Corrupt politics, but strong civic pride and checks.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jaune holds a town hall for the Vytal Festival.

It does about as well as you might expect.

Chapter Text
The backstage of Vale's Government Tower town hall was filled with nervous energy, as the faint buzz from the packed theater drifted through the curtains. The air was thick with the scent of Yang Xiao Long's citrusy perfume and the faint tang of stage lights warming up. Jaune Arc, reluctant councilman and festival planner, stood in a cluttered dressing area, his blonde hair slicked back as Yang dabbed makeup on his face with a practiced hand. His blue eyes darted nervously, lips muttering a mantra to steady himself.

"Okay… Okay… I'm going to do okay… I'm going to do okay…" Jaune breathed, gripping the edge of a folding chair.

Pyrrha Nikos, radiant in her bronze armor, leaned forward with a warm smile. "You'll be fine!"

Weiss Schnee, clipboard in hand, adjusted her pristine white jacket. "Just follow the notes. That said, I still can't believe you were put in charge of planning the Vytal Festival!"

"He's not in charge, he's just the key Committee Member," Blake observed, barely looking up from her Scroll.

"I memorized the notes," Jaune said, voice steadier now. He glanced around, brow furrowing. "Who's on snack table duty?"

Nora Valkyrie bounced on her heels, hammer slung over her shoulder. "I am!"

Ren, ever calm beside her, deadpanned, "There is no more snack table."

Yang paused, makeup brush hovering. "Wait, I thought Ruby said she was doing it."

"That's why there's no more snack table!" Nora chirped, unapologetic.

Jaune's face paled. "Oh God…"

"Nora reassigned Ruby to security!" Nora added, grinning.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ren? Please calm him down?"

"I've got this," Yang declared, yanking Jaune's face into her chest with a playful smirk.

"MMPH?!" Jaune flailed, voice muffled against her sweater.

"It's scientifically proven that men calm down when they touch boobs! Especially big ones!" Yang teased, winking at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha's cheeks flared red. "W-Well, I can do that just as well!" She pulled Jaune into her chest, armor clinking.

"MMPH!" Jaune's arms waved desperately.

"Not as well as I can!" Yang tugged him back, grinning.

Weiss groaned, tossing her ponytail. "Always about boobs with you people…"

Blake Belladonna, lounging nearby with a book, smirked without looking up. "You're jealous."

"OF COURSE I'M JEALOUS!" Weiss snapped, then froze, mortified.

Blake's amber eyes glinted. "The first step is admitting it."

Weiss's face burned as Jaune, still caught in the tug-of-war, waved his arms like a drowning man. Nora tilted her head. "I think he's choking!"

Weiss muttered, "Wouldn't happen with me."

Sun Wukong burst in, shirt predictably unbuttoned, tail flicking. "GUYS! We're all set!"

Jaune gasped for air as Yang and Pyrrha released him. "Bwah…! Sun?"

"Hey! Blake asked me to help, and I thought, cool! Let's do government things!" Sun grinned.

"Yes, government things," Blake added with a nod.

"Oh… Thank you," Jaune said, catching his breath.

Weiss eyed Sun's open shirt. "Still not buttoning up, I see."

"Nope!" Sun said, unabashed. "Blake says it's for the female voters!"

"Well… Thank you, Blake," Jaune said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll go introduce you with Ruby!" Sun said, bounding toward the stage.

"Oh, well, thanks…" Jaune muttered, straightening his tie.

Out at the microphone, the crowd's murmur filled the hall, a mix of curious citizens and opportunistic reporters. Sun grabbed the mic with flair as Ruby flanked him.

"Introducing… a really nice guy who loaned me sooo many pencils! You have no idea how many pencils, he was loaded with pencils!"

Ruby, in her red cloak, added: "Also, he can recite all the lyrics of Super Hyper Dimensional Fortress Evangelion! In Fuujin! It was amazing!"

"Councilman Jaune Arc!" Sun finished, throwing an arm out.

Jaune emerged to scattered applause, stepping into the spotlight as his friends took seats or stood nearby. He adjusted the mic, voice steady despite the sweat on his brow. "Thank you, guys. So, this town hall is to address your questions about the Vytal Festival. So, feel free to start asking!"

A Faunus with sharp dog ears stood, voice sharp. "Why are you giving the SDC a platform?! Even after all the allegations against their mistreatment of Faunus!"

Jaune nodded, unfazed, as Weiss and Blake nodded approvingly. "We're also giving Menagerie a platform, despite the fact that many Faunus from there support the White Fang's terrorist activities. It's my hope we can foster a dialogue between Faunus and humans who aren't at the extremes of the conflict, and help improve things. This is just after Menagerie made official diplomatic ties with Vale, despite the White Fang's attack on the Queen Star of Eridu airship liner last year. Vale is trying to act as a mediator in this ongoing conflict, so we must be as neutral as possible. Next question?"

Weiss and Blake spared him a small smile each. It made him feel confident as the Faunus sat down, looking satisfied.

A female voice rang out, bold and teasing. "How long is your dick?"

Jaune's face flushed. "Next question!"

A higher voice squeaked, "COCO!"

Coco Adel, sunglasses glinting, grinned from the crowd. "Shush, Velv! You were gonna ask it later!"

Velvet Scarlatina, ears drooping with bright red cheeks, muttered, "I literally wasn't, stop projecting…"

Russel Thrush shot up, mohawk quivering. "Yeah! Why are Hunters-in-training banned from alcohol until we're 21 like the rest of these losers?! We should be allowed to get hammered too!"

"That's… not related to Vytal," Jaune said, blinking.

"It's bullshit!" Russel snapped. "You grew up drinking wine since you were five!"

"That's because the laws are different in Gallia, not Vale Proper," Jaune explained.

"Then change them!" Russel demanded.

"Next question!" Jaune said quickly. Russel looked like he was about to say more, but Cardin Winchester glared death at him and he pouted in silence.

A man stood, voice tight. "Excuse me, Mr. Arc. This isn't a question as much as a complaint… but I live on property near where Vytal will take place, and your orange-haired teammate destroyed some of the trees I was growing. I just wanted to say… The hell, man?! They weren't even in the way!"

All eyes turned to Nora, who shrank slightly. "…Whoops."

Jaune sighed. "Ah, yes… Nora got a little carried away, but the city insurance policy will pay you back for that. And Nora will be more careful in the future."

Nora waved sheepishly. "SORRY!"

Lisa Lavender, ever the vulture, stood with her microphone. "Mr. Arc, how big is your harem, and which girl will have your child first?"

"No comment, next question!" Jaune said, voice firm.

A new voice cut through—A blonde and brash young lady in leather with goggles, pigtails, and large… Assets.

"Hey! I'm Burnice White! I'm from New Eridu!"

"Oh, uh, welcome to Vale?" Jaune said, confused.

"Thanks! So! When are we declaring war on New Eridu?" Burnice asked, grinning.

"I don't have that—What?" Jaune stammered.

Seth, a wiry Mistralian, shot up. "You can't declare war on New Eridu! It's part of Mistral!"

"So declare war on Mistral!" Burnice countered.

"Why?" Seth asked.

"They took away my liquor license!" Burnice huffed.

Jaune pinched his nose. "That's something we settle in civil court, not via warfare."

Another man stood, face red. "Hey, Arc! Your sister photoshopped my face onto a Grimm and sent it to my girlfriend! Fuck you! I can't say that to her because she's a kid, but… fuck you, dude!"

The crowd stared, dumbfounded. Jaune blinked. "I'm… sorry, I guess? I'll talk to her after?"

"Ladies and gentlemen," Pyrrha said, raising her hands, "we're here about the Vytal Festival. We should keep our focus on that, right?"

Lisa Lavender struck again. "Mr. Arc, is it true what Jacques Schnee tweeted not five minutes ago? That you're marrying his daughter? What happened to staying neutral?"

Jaune shook his head. "I'm not marrying Weiss Schnee. I don't know what Jacques said, but I'm not. Weiss can confirm that right now."

Weiss muttered, "…Damn it…" Flustered, she stood. "I-I mean… this is false! I would never marry this… perverted creep!"

She turned to Jaune, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I panicked!"

Cameras flashed like a lightning storm.

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Then fix it while panicking?"

Weiss stammered, "I-I mean, he's not a pervert, he's an… okay guy? I guess?"

Lisa Lavender pounced. "Ms. Schnee, are you backtracking out of fear of repercussions from Councilman Arc? And Mr. Arc, what are your favorite kinks?"

"OKAY!" Jaune barked. "Anyone with questions about the Vytal Festival, in here! If you don't, please leave. Don't care where you go, but you can't stay here."

Half the crowd shuffled out, muttering. A lone guy stood. "Is there gonna be a waterslide this year?"

"Yes! There will be a waterslide!" Jaune said, relieved.

Lisa, undeterred, pressed, "Miss Schnee, is it true Councilman Arc is blackmailing you for sex?"

"Nobody is blackmailing anyone for sex!" Jaune snapped.

A woman in the crowd snorted. "True, who would need to be blackmailed into sex with him? I bet Schnee is gay. Who could turn that down?"

"She's not gay!" Ruby shouted. "She's got too bad of taste to be gay!"

"Shut up Ruby!" Weiss growled.

An older man stood, voice stern. "I have one. Mr. Arc, you're a first-year at Beacon Academy, miraculously given a position of power you are, without a doubt, completely unprepared for. You surround yourself with companions who cause nothing but chaos and destruction, unapologetically, mind you. Now you're given creative control over this very important tradition to honor all academies and lands together, and you all seem to be treating this like a joke. Is this a joke to you, Mr. Arc? Are you and your friends, who, mind you, have no official status in the government, going to treat this like a joke?"

Yang winced. "He… has a point…"

Ruby puffed out her cheeks. "We help!"

Blake muttered, "Do we?"

Jaune straightened, voice firm. "No, sir, I take this very seriously. My great-grandmother was Queen Arturia Pendragon, and she encouraged me to give this my all. I'm going to do this job to the best of my ability and make sure the Festival is a success. And while my friends are… chaotic, they do help and support me and do a lot of great stuff behind the scenes. They do, in fact, have official positions in the government as my staff—part-time due to their studies. The fact they do as much for me as they can is a testament to how much I trust them."

The old man nodded, satisfied. "I'm glad to hear it." He paused. "Also, tell the girl who ate all the cookies from the snack table earlier… my wife and I run a bakery, and we'd be more than happy to provide cookies for her… weapons presentation she was muttering about earlier."

A Valean man stood, voice sharp. "Excuse me, Mr. Arc, as a Valean patriot to a Valean patriot, don't you find it strange that Atlesians are in charge of security? What is the VDF doing? What is the National Security Bureau doing? And are you sure holding the Festival amidst these turbulent times is a good idea?"

Jaune nodded. "I agree it's strange, but the Council voted. I voted against it. The argument was that the VDF hasn't recovered sufficiently, even with the new budget to rearm, to do the job, and with the Breach, the security arrangements were inadequate. If we stop the Festival, we allow the terrorists who did the Breach to dictate our policy. We will not give in to fear."

Another voice piped up, sly. "Question from Spook Shack. Is it true every generation of Arcs has a harem?"

"No. That is not true," Jaune said, deadpan.

Lisa Lavender stood again. "Mr. Arc, an actual question this time."

Jaune's tone went flat. "That would be a first."

Lisa plowed on ahead, ignoring this.

"Do you think Ironwood is overstepping his jurisdiction by pushing for Atlesian security? Is the general too eager to assert himself into something he doesn't belong in?"

Jaune sucked in a breath.

"While I disagreed with turning over the entire security of the Festival to Atlas, I agree the VDF may not be ready to handle things on their own. I'm pushing for a joint security arrangement. I can't comment on the General's state of mind, as I'm not a mind reader."

Lisa pressed, "Would it be possible to acquire his opinion on the matter? Or hold a press conference with him?"

"You'd have to ask him," Jaune said.

Lisa continued, "Follow-up: Atlas and the SDC are almost one and the same to the public eye and their infrastructure. It wouldn't be unfair to assume the SDC can interfere with Atlas's security. Yet, when Menagerie offered assistance to deal with any White Fang threat, both Vale and Atlas declined. Can you guarantee the SDC didn't have a hand in keeping Menagerie's influence away, and that the SDC won't gain an unfair advantage through their Atlas connection?"

"You're the reporter; why don't you handle that?" Jaune said, deflecting. "Lisa, this is about the Festival. That's not my department. I just plan the Festival and set things up."

Lisa smirked. "So I'll put you down for no comment?"

"Yes," Jaune said, firm.

"Thank you very much," Lisa said, sitting.

Pyrrha leaned in, whispering to Jaune, "To be fair, you're one of the few government officials to answer questions straightforwardly, so it's not surprising they come to you with them."

Jaune muttered, "Right…"

Weiss groaned, and Blake, in a rare show of solidarity, patted her shoulder. "I hate my father…"

"We both do," Blake said comfortingly.

A man stood, waving at Lisa. "Can you make it a law for Lisa Lavender to do her newscasts in a bikini again? For the Festival?"

Lisa sputtered, "Excuse me?!"

"You did it once; it was amazing," the man said, grinning.

An older man raised both hands. "I second and third and fourth that, heheh!"

Blake stood, voice sharp. "Your attention, please! Can we get back on track with the Festival?"

The older man nodded. "Right, right… Will there be booth babes?"

"That's up to the preference of the vendors," Jaune said.

"WOOHOO!" the old man cheered.

"You're still not allowed to grope them unless they consent," Jaune added.

"Phooey!" the man grumbled, as a cop nearby gave an I'm watching you gesture.

"I know your porn history, Larry!" the old man shot back.

A girl stood, voice sultry. "Mr. Arc, do you need a date to the Vytal Festival? Because I'm single and willing! I'll also be ovulating at that time, just FYI!"

Jaune's face reddened. "I'm very flattered, but I'll have to decline. Sorry."

"What? Am I not good enough for you?!" the girl shrieked.

Yang leaned in with a grin.

"No! You aren't! I'm his girlfriend!" She shouted. The girl, undeterred, began to reach for her waist.

"I got your face tattooed on my tits! I'LL SHOW YOU!"

Security dogpiled her before she could lift her shirt, dragging her out. Jaune cleared his throat, voice strained. "Well… that's all the time we have for today. Thank you all. See you at the Festival!"

He stumbled backstage, beelining for the dressing room. Pressing his face into the wall, he groaned, voice muffled against the plaster.

Nora bounced in, grinning. "I think that went well!"

Jaune groaned louder.

Weiss, following, snapped, "Of course you would."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Taiyang faces his greatest challenge after Summer left and he got his head back on straight... His girls growing up. Fortunately he has a friend to help him out.

One-Shot, No Romance, Family.

Work Text:
Taiyang Xiao-Long faced the greatest challenge he'd ever been confronted with. Fighting the Queen of the Grimm, losing the love of his life (twice), all of that seemed to pale in comparison to the challenge before him.

Both of his girls-Both of them! They needed him. He had failed once before, but now? He had no more chances. He had to figure this out… He had to be there for them. He couldn't fail. He couldn't!

The Patch General Store was a cramped, fluorescent-lit maze of shelves, its air heavy with the scent of canned goods and cleaning supplies.

Taiyang Xiao Long stood frozen in the feminine products aisle, his broad shoulders hunched, his blond hair disheveled, and his blue eyes wide with a haunted look. His hands hovered over a dizzying array of pads and tampons.

He muttered "Which do I… what do I…?" His frantic whispers were barely audible over the store's tinny radio playing bad covers of ancient top twenty hits.

"Oh! Hello, Tai. Are you all right?" A gentle voice cut through his panic.

Taiyang's head snapped up, relief flooding his face as he spotted a smiling woman, her warm brown eyes crinkling behind round glasses, her greying auburn hair tucked under her Tablebreaker habit. Her small frame radiated calm, her hands clasped over a basket of groceries.

Taiyang twitched and reached out a hand towards her, desperation etched into his face.

"Sister Lucy… please… I need some help."

"With…?"

Lucy's gaze flicked to the shelves, understanding dawning. She looked up, her lips twitching.

"Oh… ohhh. Yang?"

Taiyang's expression grew more haunted, "And Ruby… they both started. At the same time."

Lucy chuckled, her laughter soft but grounding.

"It's all right, Tai. I'll help you."

Taiyang's knees wobbled as relief flooded his entire body.

"Thank you," Taiyang breathed, his shoulders sagging.

"I'll even explain the whole thing to them both," Lucy added, plucking a few packages from the shelf with practiced ease, "Since I've been helping them at Sunday School with other… Womanly concerns."

"Ohhh, thank you, thank you, thank God!" Taiyang groaned, his hands clasping around hers in prayer. Lucy chuckled.

"Easy, easy!" Lucy said, her tone teasing but kind. "Everything is going to be just fine, I promise."

"Thanks," Taiyang said, rubbing his neck. "Qrow and I were at a loss."

Lucy's eyebrow arched, her voice playful.

"What, was he going to hire a hooker to explain it to them?"

Taiyang froze, his eyes darting away.

"…Uh… n-no! Of course not! But, uh, let's get home as quickly as possible, just—just to get things going, right?"

Lucy's smile turned knowing, her tone dry.

"…Qrow said he was going to hire a hooker, didn't he?"

"He didn't say that!" Taiyang protested, his face reddening.

"More just that he strongly implied it?"

"... Maybe."

Lucy sighed, grabbing a final product and looping her arm through Taiyang's, her basket swinging.

"Let's get to your house before your girls are scarred for life, huh? Any more than they already are?"

"Good idea," Taiyang muttered, his voice thick with gratitude as they headed to the checkout.

- - -

They managed to get all the way back to the Xiao Long cabin. The living room was a cozy chaos of scattered mechanical devices and half-finished homework, the scent of pine mingling with the faint tang of pancakes and eggs from breakfast.

Yang, twelve and already fierce, sat cross-armed on the couch, her lilac eyes narrowed in embarrassment, while Ruby, ten and wide-eyed, clutched a stuffed Grimm plushie, her silver eyes darting nervously.

Lucy sat between them, her habit smoothed out, her voice calm and warm as she explained things with the same gentle clarity she used for Sunday sermons at Patch's Tablebreaker chapel.

"It's all natural, girls," Lucy said, holding up a diagram she'd sketched on a napkin, her smile reassuring. "Your bodies are growing, and that's a gift, even if it feels strange now. You're becoming strong women, like your mom and Summer were."

Yang's scowl softened at the mention of Raven, her voice small.

"Mom… didn't stick around for this stuff."

Lucy's hand rested on Yang's shoulder, her touch steady.

"She made her choices, Yang, but you're not her. You're you—brave, loyal, and fierce. And you've got Tai, Qrow, and me to help you through."

Ruby's voice was a whisper, her eyes glistening.

"Mom would've known what to say…"

"She would've," Lucy agreed, her voice soft but firm, pulling Ruby into a gentle hug. "But she'd be proud of you, Ruby, for facing this with your big heart. I'm here to help you both, just like she'd want."

Taiyang hovered in the doorway, his eyes misty as he watched Lucy work her quiet magic, easing his daughters' fears with stories of her own awkward youth and practical tips wrapped in humor. Their tension slowly faded, replaced with little laughs and warm smiles.

Taiyang had not been to church since Summer's death. He'd kept sending Ruby and Yang there, because that was what Summer wanted for them. His own beliefs… He wasn't sure he could believe in a God that could love someone like him, a miserable failure.

Yet… Sister Lucy took time out of her day to help them all out. At no profit to herself. He smiled softly, the weight on his heart lifting a little.

"Now! You two go to the bathroom," Lucy said with a smile. "If you need any help, just ask, but I know you two can handle this like the young ladies you are. And after? We'll go out for ice cream. My treat!"

"And cookies?" Ruby asked. Lucy nodded. Ruby squealed. "YEAH!"

Ruby shot off to the bathroom. Yang followed. She huffed.

"I-I would have figured it out," she said. Lucy nodded.

"I know, but everyone needs help once in a while," she said. Yang smiled gratefully, and turned to head off after her little sister. Taiyang came into the living room, and handed Lucy a cup of tea.

"Thank you," he said, "For everything."

Sister Lucy beamed back.

"It's what I'm here for."

Taiyang sighed heavily.

"I should've called you first."

"You should've," Lucy shot back, her tone teasing but pointed, "instead of joking about hookers."

Taiyang chuckled nervously.

"Oh… Yeah… Joking! That's me…"

Qrow walked in with a big smile.

"Hey kids! I've got someone to tell you all about-Oh. Hey Sister Lucy," Qrow trailed off.

A truly voluptuous black cat Faunus woman entered, her ears twitching happily.. She wore a very revealing white dress with a gold collar and expensive sunglasses. Sunglasses she pulled off dramatically with a big smile.

"Qrow baby, where are your nieces? I'm all ready to go-Oh! Hey Lucy!"

Sister Lucy sighed and waved at the Faunus woman.

"Hey Fuschia. How's it going?" She asked with a friendly smile. "Thank you for the donation to the church fund last Sunday, it was very much appreciated."

Fuschia beamed.

"It was nothing! You've been so kind to me since I moved here! So, where are Qrow-baby's little nieces? I can't wait to teach them about taking care of their-!"

"How about we all just go out for ice cream, huh?" Taiyang said quickly. "I-I mean, before we get into the…" His inner manhood shuddered, "Nitty-gritty?"

Fuschia looked him up and down, and winked.

"Anything for you, baby. I love a responsible man. I'll get the car ready!"

She turned and headed out the door.

Sister Lucy slowly turned and stared at the cringing Taiyang and Qrow.

"I mean… Technically she's not a hooker?" Taiyang said weakly.

"Please! I don't do that… Anymore," the Faunus woman called back through the door. "Now I do movies!"

"See? She does movies," Qrow grinned weakly.

"So I've heard," Lucy deadpanned.

In the end, they went out for ice cream and cookies, Taiyang got Fuschia's number on a card with a lipstick mark on it, Sister Lucy and Qrow won big at the arcade, and Yang and Ruby learned a lot more about women's health than they perhaps wanted to know. But instead of fear, they had confidence, and in the end, that's what the people who loved them wanted them to have more than anything else.

That and common sense, but that's another story.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jaune pushed open the door to the JNPR dorm with Mia riding high on his shoulders, her little hands tangled in his hair like she was steering a very blond airship.

"So, sweetie," he asked, grinning up at her, "what was the best part of daycare today?"

Mia leaned forward, ears perked, eyes shining. "That the Starlight Rangers are awesome heroes who beat up Grimm monsters with sparkly laser guns and friendship!"

Jaune laughed, the sound warm and easy. "Haha! They absolutely are. Best heroes ever."

She patted his head proudly. "I'm gonna be the Pink Ranger when I grow up!"

"You'll be the best Pink Ranger Remnant's ever seen," he promised, stepping into the common room.

And froze.

The place looked like a minor war zone. Smoke still curled lazily from the kitchenette, the fire alarm was giving one last pathetic beep, and three very professional firefighters were packing up their gear while Professor Goodwitch stood in the middle of it all, telekinetically rearranging scorched pots and pans back into some semblance of order.

Weiss and Pyrrha—both wearing slightly singed aprons—spun around at the sound of the door, faces lighting up like they'd been waiting all day.

"Jaune! You're back!" Weiss said, a little too brightly, brushing flour off her sleeve.

Pyrrha's smile was softer, relieved. "It's so great to see you."

Nora, perched on the couch, threw her hands up. "I tried to stop them, Jaune-Jaune! I swear!"

Ren, calmly sipping tea beside her, didn't even look up. "Unsuccessfully."

Nora scowled at him.

Jaune carefully lifted Mia down, setting her on the floor where she immediately toddled toward the least smoky corner to investigate. "What… happened?"

Pyrrha fidgeted with her apron strings. "Um… w-well, we… wanted to try making dinner for a change."

Weiss lifted her chin, defiant. "You always do most of the cooking! Well, you and Xiao-Long."

Jaune nodded, still dazed. "Oh yeah. Yang does a good job. Her spicy noodles are great! Mia loves them!"

Weiss and Pyrrha both bristled in perfect unison, a tiny storm cloud of competitive energy crackling between them.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. "So we thought we'd make you—I mean, all of us—a nice, simple dinner."

Weiss gestured grandly toward the kitchen. "Steak and potatoes with a side salad. Elegant, nutritious, perfectly balanced."

Pyrrha nodded enthusiastically. "Beef noodles with pork buns! Hearty, comforting, traditional!"

The room went very quiet.

Weiss turned slowly. "…Wait. That's what you were trying to make?!"

Pyrrha's cheeks went scarlet. "I-I thought I was following your lead!"

Jaune exhaled, long and slow, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's all right, both of you. Nobody's hurt, and—" He glanced over at the kitchenette, where Glynda was waving her riding crop like a conductor's baton, scorched cabinets slotting neatly back into place. "—look! Professor Goodwitch is fixing everything up."

The firefighters tipped their helmets respectfully and filed out, one of them muttering something about "student experiments" under his breath.

Glynda finished with a final flick of her wrist, the last wisp of smoke vanishing into nothing. She turned, expression as stern as ever, but her eyes softened the moment they landed on Mia, who had wandered over and was now staring up at her with unabashed awe.

"Miss Schnee. Miss Nikos." Glynda's voice could have frozen a Grimm. "No more cooking except under strict supervision."

Weiss and Pyrrha both snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am."

Glynda's gaze shifted to Jaune. "Mister Arc. I will be joining you for dinner tonight."

Jaune straightened automatically. "Yes, ma'am."

She paused, then added, almost gently, "And I'm holding Mia in my lap."

Jaune's smile was instant and genuine. "Of course, ma'am. No problem at all."

Mia, who had been listening with great interest, tugged on Glynda's skirt. "Do you like Starlight Rangers too?"

Glynda's stern facade cracked—just a little—as she reached down and lifted the little girl into her arms. "I've been known to appreciate a well-coordinated team."

Mia beamed and promptly began explaining the entire season finale plot, complete with hand gestures. Glynda smiled softly and nodded along.

Jaune exhaled.

Well, it's a small price to pay to avoid expulsion...

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon library was a sanctuary of hushed whispers and rustling pages that afternoon—sunlight slanting through tall windows, casting golden pools across polished oak tables. Students hunched over scrolls and textbooks, the faint scent of old paper and ink hanging in the air like a comforting fog.

Jaune Arc sat in a secluded corner, surrounded by a fortress of open books—history notes for Oobleck's next quiz, a half-eaten apple beside his scroll. He scribbled furiously, muttering about Mistralian trade routes, oblivious to the storm approaching.

Blake Belladonna stormed through the stacks like a shadow with a mission—ears twitching under her bow, amber eyes narrowed to slits, a worn copy of Ninjas of Love clutched in one hand like evidence at a trial.

She slammed her palm down on Jaune's table—hard enough to make his apple jump.

Jaune yelped, pen flying. "Ah! Can I help you, Blake?"

She leaned in, voice low and intense. "When were you going to tell me?"

Jaune blinked, brain scrambling. "About… what?"

Blake's eyes flashed. She held up the book like a smoking gun. "You know what."

Jaune stared at the cover—the familiar swooning ninja heroine, the brooding love interest with suspiciously blond hair. His stomach dropped.

"Erm…"

Blake's voice dropped even lower, but the intensity ramped up. "Your sister is the author?!" She hissed, caught between glee and anger.

"Shhhh!"

Jaune's face went bright red. He glanced around—thank the Breaker he had chosen a deserted corner. He then looked back at Blake and cleared his throat.

"Yeah. She is."

Blake's stare turned to utter disbelief—betrayal worthy of a Hispanian soap opera, complete with dramatic pause.

"You have any idea what this means to me?" she hissed.

Jaune rubbed his neck, voice climbing an octave. "She usually likes to keep her work and family life separate? And not really—I don't know what this means at all."

Blake leaned closer, eyes wide. "This was a light for me in my darkest moments. And you—you dismiss it so casually?!"

Jaune twitched. Then twitched again. Words failed.

Not again,

"Blake… I know these books mean a lot to you," he managed, "but I'm actively trying to forget where my sister got her ideas. Because I kind of know all those people, and bringing it up around them is really embarrassing."

Blake's ears flicked. "Embarrassed? Why? This is art!"

Jaune winced. "If you said that to any of the people I know she based characters on, the reply would probably involve thrown objects."

Blake huffed. "Philistines." Then her expression shifted—curious, probing. "Did… did she base anyone off you?"

Jaune froze. "Ummm…"

Deny. Deny everything.

Blake leaned forward, amber eyes gleaming with mischief, a smug little smile playing on her lips.

"The hapless, bumbling farm boy who gets a lot of female attention effortlessly?" she teased, voice low but laced with delight. "Who wears bunny pajamas?"

Jaune's face was inventing new shades of red.

"That... That could be anyone!"

Blake's smirk became sharper.

He slammed the book shut harder than necessary. "No. Absolutely not. Akira is categorically not based on me—Jaune Arc. Where did you even get that idea? Have you been getting enough sleep lately?"

-"Come on. It's obvious."

Jaune shook his head vigorously. "First off, a lot of people wear bunny pajamas. Second, mine's a onesie. Third, I don't know anybody who garners that kind of female attention effortlessly."

"Why are you so embarrassed?"

Jaune groaned, rubbing his face. "I'm embarrassed enough being her editor. If my sister actually wrote a character based on me? I'd have to go live in seclusion in the Hinoki forest. Or on top of the mountains. Or maybe that rock of an island my great-great-grandfather enfeoffed my great-granduncle when he married into the family."

Blake tilted her head, curious despite herself. "Enfeoffed?"

"Gave him land. Tiny, useless islands near the Grimmlands. Point is—I'd hide forever."

Blake leaned in closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Well… I'll keep your secret. Don't worry. It's just between us~. If!"

Jaune grabbed for it like the survivor of a Grimm attack grabbing for the Bullhead ladder.

"If?"

"I can meet her," Blake said eagerly.

Jaune sat frozen, twitching.

He pulled out his scroll, typing with shaky fingers.

Sis, remind me your policy for one-on-ones with fans? Classmate figured it out.

It took a while but Saphron responded.

Saphron: Who's asking?

Jaune glanced at Blake.

Blake Belladonna. Friend.

Blake, overhearing, mumbled, "Daughter of Menagerie's Chieftain…"

Jaune added: Yeah, that too.

Saphron: …Wait what? Royalty?

"I'm not royalty," Blake muttered angrily, "My parents were voted in by fair-"

Jaune: Yes. She's a huge fan. The biggest. One of those.

There was another long pause.

Saphron: Book signing at Farmer and Elite next week. Incognito?

Jaune really should have expected this-If he'd gotten his mother's brains, his sisters tended to get her mercenary ways.

Jaune: Sure thing.

Saphron: Great! I look forward to it!

Jaune: Sure thing, sis.

He hung up—well, ended the chat.

"It's done," Jaune said.

Blake hesitated, then hugged him—quick, fierce.

"Thank you," she whispered. "This means everything."

Jaune patted her back awkwardly. "There, there. Uh—you're welcome."

He smiled—confident, warm.

Blake wasn't the worst of his sister's fans.

Not by a long shot.

She brushed a quick kiss on his cheek—light, teasing—and stood, sauntering away with an almost giddy sway to her step. For Blake, that was practically skipping.

Jaune sat frozen, hand touching his cheek, face burning.

He felt resigned.

Still… hopefully he could get through the book signing without her fangirl tendencies exploding.

Jaune shivered.

Oh who was he kidding? He was doomed.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The RWBY dorm room door was barely visible behind a towering, four-foot pile of bouquets, their vibrant colors clashing in a chaotic explosion of roses, lilies, and tulips. The scent of pollen hung heavy in the air, making Weiss Schnee sneeze as she stood in the hallway, her ice-blue eyes narrowing in exasperation. Her white combat skirt was pristine, but her patience was fraying as she crossed her arms, glaring at the floral barricade.

"Why is there a four-foot pile of bouquets outside our door?" Weiss demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Yang Xiao Long leaned against the wall, her blonde hair catching the dorm's dim light, her lilac eyes glinting with amusement. She shrugged, her leather jacket creaking. "They're for me. I still don't have a date for the dance, and I guess every single guy in this whole school decided to shoot their shot."

Weiss snorted, her ponytail swishing as she tossed her head. "Hmph. Desperate, are they?"

Yang's grin turned wicked, her voice a playful growl. "But it's gonna take a lot more than a few flowers to tame this dragon."

The door creaked open, and Jaune Arc stepped into the hallway, his hoodie slightly rumpled, his blonde hair mussed from the wind. He carried a single daffodil, its bright yellow petals glowing softly in his hand. "Hey, Yang," he said, his blue eyes warm but casual.

"Sup, Vomit Boy," Yang replied, her tone teasing, her smirk firmly in place.

Jaune rubbed his neck, his voice earnest. "I found this flower growing in the gardens, and it reminded me of you." He held out the daffodil, its delicate stem dwarfed by the mountain of bouquets behind them. He then turned and walked off, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Weiss's eyebrow arched, her voice dripping with disdain. "What is it with this kingdom and flowers?" She turned to Yang, expecting a snarky retort, but froze. "…Yang?"

Yang clutched the daffodil close to her chest, her lilac eyes glistening with unshed tears, a dopey smile spreading across her face. Her voice was soft, almost reverent. "He got me a flower. Nobody's ever gotten me something so nice before."

Weiss's jaw dropped, her voice a disbelieving sputter.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The door knocks. A CAMPUS COURIER hands COCO ADEL a small, perfectly wrapped box.

COCO(reading label, eyebrow raised)"For Miss Schnee. Courtesy of Madam Adel's personal tailor. –G."(opens it, whistles) Garak doesn't do gifts. He charges extra for air.

Inside: a dove-gray cashmere scarf with subtle silver threading. A card.

WEISS(taking scarf reverently) This is… exquisite.

COCO He's in town for the week. Mom booked him solid, but he always squeezes in "special projects."

BLAKE Who's Garak?

COCO Best tailor on Remnant. Intense. Like he knows exactly where to stick the pins.

WEISS Then why did he send it to me?

CUT TO:

EXT. BEACON COURTYARD – NEXT MORNING

Team JNPR drills. NORA turns footwork into a dance party. PYRRHA diplomatic, REN meditating through chaos. And RWBY is watching their turn.

A shadow falls across the mats.

GARAK (O.S.)(calm, cultured) Excuse me. Might I borrow Mr. Arc for a moment?

GARAK: middle-aged grey lizard Faunus, dark hair, tailored tunic in muted greens and browns. Smile warm, eyes unreadable.

JAUNE(stomach drops) Garak!

GARAK(spreads arms)Jaune, my dear boy! All grown up and swinging a sword like you were born to it. I'm almost proud.

JAUNE Ah, well... Um... Y-Yeah

Teams RWBY and JNPR freeze.

WEISS(marching forward, scarf around neck)You. You're the one who sent the scarf. Why?

GARAK Why not? The Schnee Heiress wearing one of my scarves? Who wouldn't want such an opportunity?

PYRRHA How do you know him?

GARAK Old family friends.

JAUNE And... Well, he did help me get into Beacon...

RUBY Forging your transcripts?

Dead silence.

GARAK(innocent confusion) Forgive me, I believe I'd remember committing a crime of that magnitude.

JAUNE(muttering)You said it was "a simple matter of creative documentation."

GARAK(eyes sparkling) Did I? How shocking. I'm merely a tailor. Plain, simple Garak. I stitch hems and mend seams.

NORA(gasps)You're the mystery man who got Jaune-Jaune into Beacon?!

GARAK Allegedly. And only if one believes transcripts measure a Huntsman. Narrow-minded, don't you think?

WEISS You could have ruined his life.

GARAK Or I recognized potential where others saw paperwork. Reckless, foolish, determined. Reminded me of myself at his age.

PYRRHA Why help him at all?

GARAK(wistful) Many reasons. Perhaps I saw a boy willing to risk everything for a dream. Sentimental old tailor's heart.

(beat, distant)

Or I never forgave Isabel Arc for doubting my artistry. Quite vocal about not trusting "that strange man in the village" with her wedding dress. Ungrateful, after I made her radiant.

JAUNE Mom still thinks you're a spy.

GARAK(laughs richly) A spy? With these hands?(holds up elegant fingers) I assure you, the only secrets I keep are which clients prefer natural fibers.

YANG So which is it? Noble mentor? Petty revenge? Something else?

GARAK(sly) A man is entitled to his mysteries. Perhaps I found the idea of an Arc stumbling into greatness… amusing. Expected him to wash out spectacularly. Imagine my delight when he didn't.

RUBY That's kind of mean.

GARAK Or prophetic. Greatness often begins with a stumble.

BLAKE(quiet) You're not just a tailor.

GARAK Exactly what I say I am. A man who sees potential in unlikely places. Who believes the right person in the wrong place can change everything.

(turns to Jaune, softens)

You've done well, my boy. Better than expected. Your mother must be proud, even if she'll never admit it.

JAUNEY ou never told me why. Really.

GARAK (eyes ancient, weary—just a flash)

Because the darkness is coming. Someone told me an Arc would be needed. Someone has to make sure you're in position.

(mask snaps back, cheerful)

Or perhaps I simply enjoy a good practical joke. Who can say?

He claps hands.

GARAK Now—measurements. Miss Nikos, fascinating shoulder-to-waist ratio. Structured jacket? Miss Schnee, scarf suits you. I could add protective embroidery.

WEISS(involuntary hand to scarf)What kind of protective?

GARAK(winks)The kind that keeps prying eyes away. A lady should have her secrets. And I can do so much more!

REN Why?

GARAK Call it an investment in the future... And besides, up and coming Hunters in training showing off my styles? Who could resist?

COCO appears, dragging enormous garment bag.

COCO Garak! Mom's having a fit—you're late!

GARAK(theatrical sigh) Duty calls. Jaune—keep thriving. In your case, it is far more entertaining than failing.

At the gate, he pauses, looks back.

GARAK Remember, Jaune. Sometimes the plain and simple truth is the most complicated lie of all.

He vanishes into the crowd.

NORA Your family is so cool.

JAUNE(quiet, fond dread) Yeah. Terrifying, isn't it?

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The RWBY dorm common room had been commandeered for "team bonding"—Nora's code for smuggling in a bottle of Hunter-grade Mistralian firewhiskey she'd "borrowed" from a senior's stash. Yang had contributed a flask of something even stronger, grinning like she'd won a bet.

"Time to bond like adults!" She declared.

"I dunno Yang, this might be bad," Jaune tried. Ruby scowled.

"You're not gonna narc on us, are you Jaune?"

"What? No!" Jaune said, "But this stuff is pretty high grade!"

"Of course it is! Uncle Qrow drinks it!" Yang grinned. "What, you never had a little drink before, Farm Boy?"

"I've literally been drinking wine since I was five, thank you," Jaune sniffed. Weiss scoffed.

"Sure you have!"

"What, does that mean you'd outlast us?" Yang grinned in challenge. Jaune coughed.

"Well, I-"

"Put up or shut up, VB!" Yang challenged.

Now, Jaune Arc may have had his pride beaten to pieces and had to build himself back up... But he was still a Gallian at heart. And nobody challenged him to a drinking contest without an answer. He nodded.

"All right."

"Jaune," Pyrrha said worriedly. Jaune shook his head.

"I've got this, Pyr."

"And we all should drink, too!" Nora enthused. "Right Ren?"

"I suppose it can't hurt... Too much," Ren said.

"Pfft, you're all babies," Yang scoffed, "You'll all be passed out the moment you get a whiff of this! I am the Queen of Holding her Liquor! And you'll be bowing down to me!"

"Please!" Weiss sniffed. "I've already had wine at parties! This is nothing to me!"

"Come on, Blake! Join in!" Ruby enthused. Blake sighed and closed her book.

"Fine."

"You're gonna eat your words, VB," Yang grinned devilishly. Jaune shook his head.

"Then let's get this started!"

"HA! You're going down!" Yang laughed.

One round of shots later...

Jaune Arc—liver forged in the fires of family meals and Albion whiskey festivals—had sipped his glass politely and felt… fine. A warm buzz, nothing more.

Everyone else? Not so much.

Weiss Schnee, usually the picture of poise, had dissolved into giggles after her first sip. She swayed on the couch, cheeks flushed pink, belting out an off-key Atlesian opera aria about snowflakes and lost love. "And the iiiiiice… melts for noooo one!" she warbled, arms flung wide like she was on stage.

Ruby Rose had lasted half a shot before collapsing into a giggling heap on the floor. "I'm a centipede!" she declared, crawling around on her belly with wobbly determination, hugging everyone's ankles as she passed. "Hug tax! Pay the hug tax!" She latched onto Jaune's leg like a koala. "You're warm, Jaune-Jaune!"

Blake, perched on the windowsill, ears twitching regally, eyes half-lidded in drunken imperiousness. "Genji," she purred. "My loyal ninja lover. You've been neglecting your princess. Come here and attend to me at once."

Jaune blinked. "Uh… Blake, I'm not—"

"PRINCESS NEKO COMMANDS IT!" She pointed dramatically, nearly toppling off the sill.

Yang, the "Queen of holding her liquor"—had gone through the emotional rainbow in record time. First tears ("You guys are the best friends ever, I love you so much!"), then anger ("Who drank all the good stuff?! I'll punch 'em!"), and now… affection.

She'd latched onto Jaune like a blonde octopus, arms wrapped tight around his waist, face buried in his chest. "You're so comfy, Vomit Boy. Don't ever leave. Ever."

Jaune patted her back awkwardly. "Yang… air?"

Pyrrha, the Invincible Girl, was anything but invincible tonight. After finishing her shot, she'd started frustrated muttering about "improper training regimens" and "lack of discipline". She then escalated to insults. "Nora, your hammer form is sloppy! Ren, your emotional suppression is unhealthy! Jaune, you're—you're stupid!"

Then the tears came. Big, confused tears as she grabbed his sleeve. "You're so stupid and I hate it and why are you so stupid?!"

Ren sat cross-legged in the corner, eyes half-closed, mumbling Pathist sutras under his breath with serene drunken focus. "The self is illusion… the hammer is also illusion… pass the enlightenment, please…"

Nora, meanwhile, had reached peak Nora—louder, wilder, bouncing off walls like a human pinball. "WHO WANTS TO SEE ME BREAK THE SOUND BARRIER WITH MAGNHILD?!"

Jaune dove, catching her arm before she could grab the hammer. "Nora—no smashing! Dorm rules!"

Zwei trotted through the chaos, tail wagging, being aggressively cute—stealing socks, barking at nothing, and occasionally licking someone's face before darting away. Utterly unhelpful.

Jaune—mostly sober, exhausted, and surrounded—tried to herd his drunken teammates like cats.

"Weiss, maybe sit down before you serenade the window again—"

"Never!" Weiss trilled, twirling until she bumped into Blake.

"Genji! Attend your princess!"

"I'm not Genji! But he's mine, you-you hyprocrite!" Weiss sputtered. Blake glared at her.

"Oh yeah?"

"YEAH!"

They started scuffling... Then fell to the floor.

"GENJI IS MINE!"

"NO MINE!"

Yang tightened her grip. "Mine."

Blake scowled up from the floor as Weiss ineffectually yanked on her sleeve.

"You-You two bimbos can't have my himbo!" She yelled at something slightly to the left of Yang. "OR THIS OTHER BIMBO!"

"Du Katzen-Schlampe! Dein Arsch ist scheiße, nicht sexy!" Weiss shouted in Allomenian.

Oh God why is that sexy? Jaune thought. Yang, as though sensing this thought, clung more tightly to him and whispered in his ear:

"Wǒ yào nǐ cāo wǒ, gěi wǒ shēng jǐ gè bǎobǎo, nǐ zhè ge xìnggǎn de kuáng nán~."

Jaune went bright red. "Wh-What?!"

"I can be sexy tooooo!" Yang whined, gnawing on his shoulder. "Gimme!"

Ruby crawled past, hugging Ren's leg. "Centipede hug!"

Ren didn't stop chanting.

Pyrrha sniffled against Jaune's other arm. "Stupid Jaune… I'm... I'm sexy... STUPID!"

Nora tried to climb the bookshelf. "THUNDER THIGHS ACTIVATED!"

Jaune sighed, steering her down with one hand while balancing Yang with the other. Weiss and Blake then hopped onto his back.

"PIGGY BACK RIDE!"

"ARGH!"

It was going to be a long night.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

It was Jaune Arc's sixteenth birthday, a milestone marked with a lively party at the family farm. Cake, streamers, and games filled the air with joy, thanks to the efforts of his sisters, his dad Nick, and friends Katy and Mercer. But the absence of his mother, Isabel, cast a shadow over the celebration. She'd called, citing an emergency at the hospital—typical of her demanding job as a doctor, but on his birthday? The sting was sharp. Disappointed and frustrated, Jaune retreated to the woods near the farm, venting his anger by swinging an old sword and shield he'd found in the armory: Crocea Mors.

"HA! HYAH! HA!" Jaune's arms trembled with each furious strike, the blade embedding into a makeshift training dummy scavenged from the militia's grounds. I know she's busy, she's always been like that… but she used to make time for us. His thoughts churned as he yanked the sword free, swinging with wild, imprecise blows. "Honestly! If she didn't want to come… ! She could've at least said she was busy…! But no, last-minute cancel… ! The hospital shouldn't even be this busy…!"

He took hold of the sword with both hands and began to beat the training dummy in his frustration.

"SO! WHY! DIDN'T! SHE! COME?!" The dummy split in two under his final, enraged strike.

Bad enough she tried to control his life, pushing him toward medical school away from his dreams, and now she skipped his birthday? Jaune's frustration boiled over, as he panted in his fury and sorrow.

"Hello, Jaune," Isabel's voice cut through, calm but startling.

"GAH!"

Jaune fumbled Crocea Mors, nearly dropping it, and shrank back, scratching his neck nervously.

"Mom?! By Aslan's Mane, how long have you been standing there?!"

Isabel's smile was sad. "A while. I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean to miss your birthday party."

Still miffed, Jaune crossed his arms, trying to brush it off. "I-It's fine… it's not like you promised you'd be there or anything."

A flicker of dark anger crossed Isabel's face—her eyes almost seemed to glow red for a moment before softening back to regret. "You're right. I broke my promise." She paused, her tone gentle. "So… what's the best birthday gift I could get you? To try and make up for it?"

Jaune hesitated. He knew this game—"the workaround," as he called it. Arcs always kept their word, but his mother had a knack for twisting hers, leaving loopholes to dodge commitments. He and his sisters had learned to parse her words carefully. Glancing at his reflection in Crocea Mors's blade, he saw the boy he was and the man he could become. Gripping the sword tightly, almost cutting his hand, he turned to her with fierce determination.

"I want to be a Huntsman!"

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that all?" She smiled. "Okay."

Jaune froze, gaped at his mother. She continued to smile sincerely. He pinched himself, making sure it wasn't a dream. "R-really? …Just like that?"

"Just like that," Isabel confirmed, her smile warm. "We have a year and a few months to get you in shape for Beacon. So…" She stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest. In a flash, a wave of light surged through him—his Aura unlocked.

Jaune gasped as the sensation hit, like a flood of strength and lightness, as if he could take on the world. Aura, he'd heard from his dad, his family and the militia, was a Huntsman's power: defense, healing, strength. But no one had explained how it was unlocked or its deeper workings. As the energy settled, he felt something else—an imprint, like a flash-burned silhouette. For a fleeting moment, he saw his mother with white hair. A primal instinct warned him not to ask about it.

"Woah…"

Besides, the feeling of power flowing through him erased any doubts or misgivings he might have had.

Isabel smiled. "That said, this won't be easy. Getting you up to snuff will take a lot of effort. Are you willing to put in the work, Jaune?"

Still woozy, Jaune straightened, sheathing Crocea Mors and saluting like a knight. "Yes, Ma'am! …Er, Mom, hehe…" He scratched his neck awkwardly.

"Good. Let's get home," Isabel said.

They walked to the farmhouse, where Nick waited on the porch, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, Jaune, hey Izzy."

"Hello, Nick," Isabel replied. "I was just giving Jaune his birthday present. Sorry I missed the party."

Jaune's excitement burst out. "MOMSAIDICOULDBEAHUNTSMAN!" His grin was infectious.

Nick blinked, then grinned back. "That's great, son! She did?"

"SHE DID!"

"I did," Isabel confirmed.

"Well… Beacon starts in a year," Nick said. "We'll have to train you extra hard to get in, but I know you can do it, son!"

Jaune's face set with determination. "I'll take whatever you throw at me! Don't hold back—if I'm gonna catch up, I need to train like my life depends on it! Put me through the ringer, like it's hell week and I-I need a lesson in humility!"

Isabel hugged him, kissing his head. "Don't worry, Jaune. We won't go easy on you in the slightest!"

Nick slammed a hand on Jaune's shoulder, nearly toppling him. "We sure won't, kiddo! I'll work up a training regimen ASAP. Now, go inside—your sisters missed you while you were gone." Jaune nodded, bounding into the living room, a ball of energy ready to crash into his unsuspecting sisters.

---

Such a small decision, yet it had brought so much joy to Isabel's… Her son. Salem couldn't help the sincerity of her own smile as she watched him excitedly tell his sisters the good news through the windows. A contentment rose in her chest, a feeling she had not felt in millenia.

Nick turned away from watching their son to her, surprise and concern in his eyes. Isabel arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"…So, what changed your mind? You've always said you didn't want Jaune in this life. I understood, went along with it… but what happened?" Nick asked.

Isabel looked briefly surprised, then shook her head. As much of a goof as Isabel's-Her husband could be, he had surprisingly keen insight. She thought very carefully before she spoke.

"Nick… I missed our son's birthday because my job was more important than my family. Yes, I saved a life, but I sacrificed our happiness for it. I hurt our son… and I realized that, no matter his career, there'll be times he hurts those he loves. And he'll get hurt, too. I was trying to protect him, but I can't shield him from everything. So… we'll train him, support him, send him to Beacon. If he fails, he can try medical school. But I can't treat him like my baby boy anymore." She paused. "Is it wrong to think that way?"

Nick scratched his neck, sighing. "No, I don't suppose it is."

Salem held her breath. Nick then glanced at Jaune twirling with his sisters in the living room, smiling. "Still, I wish you'd had this change of heart sooner. A year and some months to catch up to Beacon's prospective students… It's a tall order."

Salem relaxed a bit.

"I have faith in our son," She said warmly, moving up to take his hand. "Between us? He'll be the most powerful Huntsman alive." Her eyes gleamed and her smile became almost devilish. "…Besides, I have other motives."

Nick raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the dark thoughts swirling within her. Salem's mind turned to Ozpin, her old nemesis. She no longer sought his destruction as her destiny, but her hatred burned eternal. Sending Jaune to Beacon would give her a pawn to undermine him, to make him suffer. Especially if Isabel, now wearing her face, was carrying out the plan.

"Is armor one of them?" Nick guessed. "He'll need a fresh set before he goes. I can get Thomas started on one. And if he's keeping Crocea Mors, it'll need a refurbish—Papa Shiro should have it ready in time."

Salem blinked. "What? No! I was…" She groped for an excuse. Someone in common with Salem, the Arcs, Beacon…

"... Just thinking of Summer Rose. Her eldest daughter should be at Beacon next year. Poor Jaune broke up with Katy recently… it might be nice to give them a push together. We know Taiyang and Qrow are good people…" She grimaced. "Well, Taiyang."

Nick's face lit up. "Oh yeah, that's right!" He slapped his knee. "The two of them'll get along like peas in a pod. Summer and I knew it was bound to happen—that's why we wrote that contract—" He froze, feeling Salem's oppressive aura.

"Contract?" Salem's voice was dangerous. "What contract?"

Nick gulped, and Salem was pleased to see her presence was still powerful. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before he wrapped an arm around her waist, twirled her into a dip, and kissed her lovingly. "Nothing you need to worry about," he said with a fond smile.

Salem giggled. He always knew just how to distract her. Better than Ozma ever had, or could.

"…Well, I'll let you handle it. But! Only if you do one little thing for me, Nick…" Her eyes gleamed with desire.

Nick's eyes softened with love. "Anything."

Salem, suppressed for millennia, craved intimacy, and Nick's rugged charm was too much to resist.

"Let's make another baby," she purred.

Nick blinked in shock. He laughed happily. He scooped her up in a princess carry, heading for their bedroom. "Then let's get started, shall we?" In the background, their kids groaned, texting their siblings to steer clear of the house for a while.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Another time period to set an AU in? The 1800s. In the Itano-verse, the timeline is similar in many ways to our world but very different in others. In this time period:

Mantle and Endeavor have long cast off the shackles of their colonial masters. Endeavour is a sub-kingdom that was established in the rougher, more desert-like areas of East Sanus that were too treacherous even for the mighty Quitalan Empire to settle for the longest time (and is essentially the early United States). Solitas, united under the kingdom of Mantle is in open war against the Vytalian Empire, while Gallia and Arminus war with both them and an ailing Hispanian Empire which is on its last ropes. The Valean merchant empire tries to broker peace but is stymied at every turn.

Mistral struggles under the yoke of Sanusian and Solitan domination, as do Pandu, Taejo, Rostram and other sub-kingdoms of Anima. Colonization efforts in West Sanus near Vacuo by these powers brings renewed war and competition.

Fuujin is industrializing rapidly, as it has been opened up to the Sanusian Empires. The whirlpools that isolated the island kingdom are now traversable with early steam and air ships. And it too seeks to build an empire to match the East Sanusians and Solitans.

Menagerie has a puppet Faunus monarch that obeys the human empires while revolution foments.

Nova Quitala and the Hellenic League are under the control of Leander, a Gallian dictator who rose in the midst of Revolution.

And with vast trading fleets in the midst of global war, a golden age of piracy has dawned.

In this age of revolt and revolution, Salem offers power through Grimm cults to stir up more chaos and potentially be in charge when the dust settles via puppet monarchs and rulers. She will twist the desire for freedom and the ambitions for power to her own ends.

Basically it's the Napoleonic Wars/Late Colonial era for Remnant.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Arc family farmhouse door creaked open on a perfectly ordinary afternoon, and Isabel Arc—still in her apron from baking bread, flour dusting her blonde hair—found herself face-to-face with the literal embodiment of humanity's nightmares.

Salem. The Queen of Grimm. Pale skin, crimson eyes, flowing black robes that seemed to drink the sunlight.

Isabel blinked. "…Hello? Can… I help you?"

Salem's eyes welled with tears. Before Isabel could react, the immortal witch lunged forward and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"GRANDDAUGHTER!"

Isabel's brain short-circuited. "Eh?!"

Nick wandered in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Oh, hey Izzy— Who's this?"

Salem released Isabel just enough to beam at him, tears streaming dramatically down her porcelain cheeks.

"I am Salem! Your… your matriarch!" She clutched her chest, voice trembling. "Just call me… Granny Salem!"

Nick's face lit up like she'd offered him free swords. "Oh! Okay, Granny Salem! Welcome to our home!"

Isabel flailed in the hug, legs kicking uselessly. "NIIIIICK!"

- - -

After a very long, very confusing explanation involving ancient bloodlines, cursed immortality, and a family tree that looked like a horror novel footnote, the three sat in the living room.

Isabel stared at Salem like she was a bomb with a lit fuse.

"You're telling me that you—the Queen of the Grimm—are my distant ancestor?"

Salem nodded eagerly, hands clasped. "Yes, dear!"

"AND YOU UNLEASHED THE GRIMM THAT MURDERED MY PARENTS?!"

Salem's face crumpled. "I didn't know I had any family left! That is… horrific!" She sobbed into the handkerchief Nick politely offered. "Oh, thank you, Nick."

"You're welcome!" Nick said brightly.

Isabel's eye twitched. "DON'T BE NICE TO HER! SHE'S KILLED BILLIONS!"

Salem dabbed her eyes. "I know, I know! I regret it all!"

Isabel's Aura flared gold. She punched Salem square in the face.

The impact launched the immortal witch through three walls, across the farmland, and into a barn-sized boulder—which exploded on contact.

Isabel stood in the wreckage of her living room, chest heaving. "Haa… haa… haa…!"

Salem strolled back moments later, brushing dust off her robes, smiling like she'd just had a lovely walk.

"That was a wonderful hit, dearie! Unfortunately, I can't die."

Isabel's eye twitched harder. "WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT!"

Salem clasped her hands, practically glowing. "My darling granddaughter is so incredible! A mother, a Huntress, and a doctor! You're amazing!"

Isabel's cheeks flushed despite herself. "Well, thank you—" Then rage returned full force. "FLATTERY WILL NOT SAVE YOU, GRIMM QUEEN!"

Salem's eyes sparkled. "Ooh, such wonderful bloodlust! Show me what you can do!"

"RAHHH—!"

Nick held up a hand. Isabel gaped. "Eh?!"

"Izzy," he said reasonably, "you keep telling me I can't fight in the house. Why do you get to?"

"She's an evil immortal Queen of the Grimm!"

"Yes, but she's also like your grandma! She's family, and she's trying to reconnect!"

"She killed my family!"

"She's also family! So you two sort this outside—because like you said, 'I'm not paying to fix the house!'"

Isabel scowled. "…FINE! We'll have our battle outside!"

Nick nodded. "After lunch! Bad to fight on an empty stomach!"

Lilac appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea and perfect sandwiches. "I've got sandwiches!"

Isabel pinched her nose. "LILAC?! Where were you?!"

"I took cover when you punched Miss Salem," Lilac said cheerfully. "But I managed to make this during the fight. Would you like some, Miss Salem?"

Salem accepted a sandwich with delight. "Certainly, dear! Aw, you're so beautiful and precious! You know, I know a few single men who might make wonderful husbands—"

"Already engaged, but thank you!"

"Awww! Is he handsome?"

"Amazingly handsome!"

Isabel's eye twitched again.

Nick patted her shoulder. "Easy, Izzy, easy…"

Isabel growled. "The immortal Queen of the Grimm is my ancestor. She murdered my parents!"

"Yes, and she's really sorry," Nick said. "You can tell!"

"I shouldn't be sitting here drinking tea with her! I should be destroying her! AND YOU SHOULD TOO!"

Salem smiled sweetly. "You can both try to destroy me after lunch. Is that fair?"

Nick grinned. "Sounds fair to me!"

Isabel threw her hands up. "GRAAAHHHHH!"

- - -

The afternoon passed in a blur of total destruction—fields cratered, trees demolished, the farmhouse miraculously spared by Lilac's refereeing. Isabel and Nick unleashed everything; Salem took it all with delighted laughter and compliments.

Eventually, the four sat in the miraculously intact living room, sipping more tea amid the distant smoke of ruined farmland.

Salem dabbed her lips daintily. "So you see, I can't actually die no matter what you do."

Isabel glared pure hatred. "Grrrr…!"

Nick beamed. "Wow. I used the stuff Izzy told me not to use in city limits and still couldn't kill you! You're incredible, Granny Salem!"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!"

Salem patted Isabel's hand. "Dear, calm down. It's not good for your blood pressure."

"I CAN CONTROL MY BLOOD PRESSURE!"

Nick rubbed her back. "Easy, Izzy. More violence isn't gonna solve this."

"EH?!"

"We hit her with our best stuff and it didn't even faze her!"

Salem nodded proudly. "It's been centuries since I've faced a sword that big! And you handled it so well, Nick!"

"Aw, thanks, Granny!"

"GRRRRR…!"

Salem turned to Isabel, eyes shining. "And wow! You suplexed me right into the ground!" She clapped. "Incredible!"

"Stop complimenting me on failing to kill you!"

Salem's expression softened. "Listen, Isabel… For thousands of years, I had nothing but revenge—on my husband, on life itself. Now… all of a sudden, I have family. Family I missed. Family I…" Her voice cracked. "Family I killed." Tears welled again. "All this time… I wasn't alone, and I didn't know it. I'm a terrible person. I don't blame you for hating me. I know hate. But hatred… hatred feels so petty now."

Isabel's glare wavered. "Grrrr…!"

Salem reached out hesitantly. "Please. Allow me to try—just try—to make up for it? It won't be easy, but… I want to."

Isabel stared for a long moment.

Then: "…No."

Salem's face fell, but she nodded. "I see. I'll keep trying anyway."

Isabel stood abruptly, stalking to the holoscreen. "Then I'll keep trying to kill you." She dialed with furious jabs. "Ugh… I can't believe I'm calling him…"

Lilac tilted her head. "Who, Mom?"

Isabel ground her teeth. "Ozpin…"

Salem perked up. "Oh? You don't like him?"

"He kept trying to recruit me for some 'special project.' Got really pushy when I said no. Recruited Summer Rose—she died, vanished, whole thing stank. Never trusted him."

Salem chuckled darkly. "Heh. About Summer… she's not dead. And Ozpin? I agree. Shifty bastard."

"Eh?"

The screen connected. Ozpin's face appeared, mug in hand.

"Hello? Isabel? Are you—"

Salem leaned in, smiling sweetly. "Hello, darling! We have family! Isn't it wonderful?" Her eyes narrowed. "Of course you couldn't bother to tell me, you petty little ingrate!"

Ozpin's calm cracked. "Petty?! You're the one who launched a war on all life because you turned us immortal!"

"Oh, here we go—!"

"No, you listen, you two-faced bitch—!"

"Tiny-dicked bastard!"

"That's not what you said in bed!"

Isabel, Nick, and Lilac stared at the screen—Ozpin and Salem descending into a full-blown ex-spouse screaming match that would've made a divorce court blush.

Isabel's jaw hung open. "…Wha…?"

Nick blinked slowly. "Huh. Looks like we all need a lot of family counseling."

Lilac winced, offering a bottle. "Um… wine, Mother?"

Isabel snatched it, popped the cork with her thumb, and chugged the entire thing in three long pulls.

Lilac sighed. "I'll… keep them coming."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The RWBY common room was quiet in the late afternoon, sunlight slanting through the windows to dust the tables in gold. Blake had claimed a corner nook with the most comfortable couch and a stack of picture books—some her own childhood favorites from Menagerie, others borrowed from the children's section of the library. Mia sat cross-legged on the couch next to Blake, ears perked high, stuffed bunny in her lap as Blake showed her colorful illustrations of tropical islands and ancient stone cities.

"Long ago," Blake began, voice soft and steady, "after the Moon broke and scattered across the sky, Faunus built big, beautiful kingdoms. They had palaces and markets and festivals that lasted days." She turned a page to show a vibrant drawing of cat-eared architects raising ziggurats under the sun. "But then human kingdoms grew strong too, and sometimes they fought. Some Faunus worked with humans, some didn't. Some Faunus treated humans badly, and some humans treated Faunus badly. Everyone was trying to figure out how to live together."

Mia traced a finger over a picture of a lion-Faunus queen shaking hands with a human king. "Like Papa and Mama did?"

Blake smiled, small and sad. "Kind of. But after a really big war—the Great War—some human countries started treating Faunus badly. Really badly. They made them work without pay, took away their homes. It happened a lot in Atlas and Mistral."

Mia's ears drooped. "That's mean."

"It was," Blake agreed. "So Faunus started standing up. They resisted. In Vacuo, in Mistral, in Solitas. Vale helped them get rights, and a lot of Faunus decided to go back to Menagerie—their old homeland. It used to be the biggest Faunus kingdom before humans took it over. They wanted a place where they could be safe and free."

Mia tilted her head, brow furrowing. "But… why all away from humans? Papa's human. Granny and Grampa Nick are human. You're my auntie and you're Faunus. We all live together and nobody's mean."

Blake's throat tightened. She set the book aside gently.

"Some Faunus got hurt so much they stopped trusting humans. They thought all humans were mean. I… used to think that way too."

Mia gasped, eyes round. "You did?!"

Blake nodded, ashamed heat rising in her cheeks. "I was around people who only talked about how humans hurt us. They wanted revenge. I believed them for a long time. But I learned it wasn't true. Hurting people back doesn't fix anything. And most humans aren't like that." She paused, then added softly, "Your papa is one of the best humans I've ever met."

From the cracked door behind them came a deliberate cough.

Blake's ears flattened. Jaune stepped in, shoulder leaning against the frame, arms crossed but expression gentle.

Mia squealed and bolted from her cushion. "Papa!"

He scooped her up, hugging her tight enough that her ears twitched against his cheek. "Hey, kitten. Having a good lesson?"

"The best!" Mia chirped. "Menagerie has beaches and old castles and samurai!"

Jaune kissed the top of her head. "Sounds amazing. Why don't you go show Auntie Nora the pictures? She's in our common room terrorizing Ren with pancake demands."

Mia wriggled down and scampered off, book clutched to her chest.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Blake stayed seated, staring at her hands. "I'm sorry. I tried to keep it balanced. I didn't want to scare her or—"

Jaune pulled up a chair, sitting across from her. "You did fine. Better than fine. She needed to hear it, and you told her the truth without making the world feel hopeless. That's… hard."

Blake risked a glance up. "You're not angry?"

"Annoyed you didn't invite me to listen in? A little." He smiled to soften it. "But I get why you wanted it to be just you two. And I heard enough to know you were honest about your own past. That matters."

She exhaled shakily. "I never thought I'd be the one teaching a human-Faunus child Faunus pride. The White Fang version of history was… twisted. Humans were monsters, Faunus were always victims, revenge was justice. It took me a while to unlearn it."

Jaune nodded slowly. "And the lying to your parents?"

Blake winced. "Old habit. Panic response. I'm working on it. Sorry."

"I know." His voice was quiet, steady. "You're trying. That's what I see. Someone who's messed up but fighting to be better. And you are better, Blake. Every day."

Her eyes stung. "Thank you. For seeing that. For… letting me be part of her life." She held up a hand. "Just so you know, I'm not-I'm not trying to replace Katy."

Jaune leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I know. You're not replacing Katy. No one could. What we had was brief, but it was real. And I'm not looking to rush into anything new."

Blake nodded quickly. "I'm nowhere near ready either. Not after… him."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

Then Jaune added, softer, "But someday… I think I'd like to feel that again. The happiness. The partnership. Katy taught me it's possible, even when life's short."

Blake's ears lifted slightly. "You deserve that."

"So do you," he said firmly.

She managed a small, genuine smile. "Maybe. Someday."

Jaune smiled gently.

"How about you and Sun babysit Mia for a day? What do you think?"

Blake flushed.

"Uh... I mean, he's just a friend-"

"And he's my friend too," Jaune said gently, "And I trust you. How about it?"

Blake frowned.

"Are you trying to set us up?"

"What? No, noooo," Jaune said quickly, "But you know... It might be fun for you two?" He smiled weakly.

Blake shook her head, then sighed.

"... All right," she said, "But I might take this personally. You don't want me pursuing you romantically?"

Jaune coughed.

"I uh... I... Is there a good answer to that?"

Blake smirked lightly.

"I suppose not..."

 

[Sliverhero]

Snow hammered against the glass of Atlas Tower, winds screaming high above the Kingdom. Inside the office, the storm was quieter, but far more venomous. Jacques Schnee stood before the tall mirror mounted between awards and commendations, jaw tight, eyes burning.

The insignia of the Schnee Dust Company gleamed behind him, he did not look at it.
He looked at the man in the glass. "You disgust me," he said flatly. The reflection scowled back, same posture, same face, but the hatred in its eyes was not ancient patience. It was human.
The hated pure and raw. Jacques Schnee's soul, trapped behind his own features, glared with undiluted fury. François Prelati smiled.

"You always were small," Prelati continued, voice smooth but laced with contempt. "Petty ambitions. Market dominance. Council seats. You thought Atlas was power." The reflection's lip curled silently. "Yes," Prelati mocked, studying the anger in those eyes. "You built an empire of Dust and exploitation. You believed yourself ruthless."

His expression darkened. "But you have no comprehension of scale." He began pacing in front of the mirror, forcing Jacques' soul to watch through his own stolen eyes. "The Arc line," he said sharply, the name bitten off like something foul. "Interfering, sanctimonious pests."

His composure cracked into open hatred.
"Every generation. Every cycle. When the rites align and the thinning begins, an Arc appears. Shield raised. Bleeding. Smiling like sacrifice means something." His fist clenched.
"I arranged their erasure more times than you can fathom. During the Great War, one of them dismantled a convergence that would have unmade Mantle entirely. He tore apart decades of preparation."
His jaw flexed.
"he sacrifice his name and being from history itself, to stop me but he only partially succeeded. I paid his family in blood for that annoyance!" A flicker of irritation passed across his face. "And still the bloodline persisted."
He leaned closer to the mirror.

"So I refined the method." The hatred sharpened into something colder. "Kill too many, and they grow vigilant. Martyr them, and the next generation trains harder." His smile was razor-thin. "But cripple them? Break them subtly?"
He tapped the glass once. "That breeds doubt."
The reflection's eyes blazed brighter with fury.

"Yes," Prelati continued, voice lowering. "I ensured tragedies were precise. A Grimm migration here. A caravan 'accident' there. Just enough loss to make the family cautious. Just enough fear to keep the latest male heir from proper instruction." His sneer deepened.

"A boy raised on stories of heroism and graves. Surrounded by sisters who had already seen too much blood. Convinced he was the weak link."
He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
"No Huntsman tutors. No sanctioned training. No preparation." His eyes burned with frustrated rage.

"And yet he sought Beacon anyway." He spat the word like poison. "You see, Jacques? This is what separates you from me. You cared about reputation. I care about inevitability." The reflection's glare intensified, pure loathing radiating through the glass.

"You think you lost your company to political rivals, to friends ," Prelati continued. "You think your downfall was miscalculation."
He smiled faintly. "You were selected."
His hand rose and pressed against the mirror.
Jacques Schnee's trapped soul mirrored the motion instinctively from within, palm meeting palm through the barrier. His eyes were full of hate, directed not at the Arc line, but at the thing wearing his skin.

"I required a body embedded in Atlas infrastructure," Prelati said softly. "A man positioned to shape industry, to reroute Dust shipments, to reopen old bore sites under the guise of 'economic necessity.'" His voice grew colder. "You were convenient."

The office lights flickered faintly. "The witch believes brute force will win her dominion. The wizard believes he can stall eternity with children and relics." A low, humorless chuckle.
"They cannot stop what they do not see."
He straightened, adjusting his cuffs with deliberate precision.

"The SDC grid now hums in harmonic alignment with sites older than Atlas itself. The northern excavations thin the veil precisely where it must be thinned." His eyes gleamed.

"The Arc heir was meant to remain weak. Irrelevant. A symbolic ending to a troublesome bloodline." His jaw tightened. "He is not."
The admission tasted bitter. "But one persistent boy does not undo centuries of preparation."
He looked back at the reflection.

Jacques Schnee's soul glared with undiminished hatred, fury radiating from every line of his face. "You hate me," Prelati observed calmly. The reflection's expression answered plainly: yes. Prelati's smile returned, thin, controlled, but edged with irritation.
"Good."

He stepped back from the mirror.
"Rage all you like. You cannot move a finger. You cannot warn your daughters. You cannot undo what I have set in motion." His voice dropped to a whisper. "The Arc line will fall. This time not by slaughter." His eyes darkened.

"But by inevitability, Then the Gods will rejoice.." Outside, thunder rolled over Atlas. Inside, two souls shared one face. One ancient and seething with calculated hatred for a bloodline that would not die. The other trapped, furious, and utterly powerless to stop what wore his name.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56670802/chapters/169439965

- - -

The sun climbed high over Beacon's sprawling grounds, beating down like a relentless judge on judgment day. Noon sharp, and the shooting range was already drawing a crowd-students murmuring behind barriers, professors watching from shaded stands, even Goodwitch with her riding crop tapping impatiently against her palm. Word had spread like wildfire through dry grass: Emerald Sustrai had challenged Jaune Arc to a duel of marksmanship. Folks whispered about grudges, about pride, about that hat full of holes.

But mostly, they came to see the cowboy shoot.

Jaune arrived calm as a desert morning, Orleans tied up nearby with a feed bag to keep her occupied. He wore his usual rig: brown stetson (a fresh one, no bullet holes this time), poncho draped loose over his shoulders, revolver low on his right hip, the old Winchester '76 slung across his back like an afterthought. His blue eyes scanned the range, polite nod here, tip of the hat there. Pyrrha stood close by his team, her expression a mix of worry and quiet pride. Ruby bounced on her toes, Crescent Rose folded away for once. Yang was smirking at Emerald like she knew a secret about the Vacuoan's mother. Weiss was haughty and confident, while Blake was silent and stoic as ever. Nora had a bag of popcorn. Ren just watched though his eyebrow was slightly raised.

Team CMEN arrived fashionably late-Cinder leading with that predatory grace, Mercury limping along with a smirk, Neo twirling her parasol like she was at a garden party. Emerald strode ahead, Thief's Respite gleaming at her hips, face set in a mask of cold determination. But her eyes burned.

Goodwitch stepped forward, voice cutting through the chatter like a whipcrack. "This is a sanctioned accuracy duel. No Aura enhancement beyond standard bullet charging. Targets at progressive distances. First to miss three shots loses. Or until one party yields. Begin at fifty paces."

They took their marks side by side, lanes separated by a low barrier. First targets: simple bullseyes at fifty yards. Emerald drew first, smooth and fast, twin revolvers barking in rapid succession. Six shots, six dead-center hits. The holographic targets flickered red, perfect scores glowing on the board. A murmur rippled through the crowd-impressive.

Jaune tipped his hat brim up, drew his Nell Goldstone revolver in a motion that was almost lazy. One-handed, fanning the hammer with his palm. Six shots blended into one rolling thunder. Six perfect centers. The board updated: tie.

Emerald's jaw tightened. Next round: one hundred yards, moving targets swinging on pendulums. She holstered, drew again-dual-wielding now, bullets chasing the swaying disks. Five hits, one graze. Close enough for full points.

Jaune reloaded with that border-shift trick of his, thumb spinning the cylinder across his belt line, loading fresh rounds in a blur. He fired standing, no stance, just as natural as breathing. Six clean hits, the pendulums shattering mid-swing.

The crowd grew louder. Mercury whistled low. "Damn, cowboy's got hands."

Cinder's eyes narrowed, watching Jaune with that calculating hunger. Neo signed something filthy; Mercury snorted.

Two hundred yards now-small silhouette targets popping up randomly. Emerald poured Aura into her shots, bullets screaming faster, hotter. She clipped every one, but two were edge hits. Still winning on points, barely.

Jaune switched to his Winchester '76, lever-action working smooth as oil. Boom-boom-boom. Each shot a thunderclap, each target vaporized center-mass. No edges. Perfect.

Emerald's knuckles went white on her grips. Three hundred yards-tiny plates no bigger than a lien coin, flashing in and out. She was sweating now, breaths sharp. Four hits, two misses. Her score dipped.

Jaune rested the shotgun across his shoulder, drew his revolver again. Calm. Steady. Six shots, six plates gone like they'd never been.

Goodwitch cleared her throat.

"Miss Sustrai, I believe the match is over. Perhaps-"

"No!" Emerald snapped, voice cracking like a green branch. "We're not done. New challenge."

Cinder leaned forward from the spectator bench. "Emerald. There's nothing left to prove. He's clearly-"

"Everything to prove!" Emerald whirled on her, eyes wild. Then back to Jaune, who stood patient, hat shading his face. "Coins. We toss coins in the air. Shoot them before they hit the ground. First to miss loses."

The crowd went dead silent. That was old-school gunslinger stuff-legendary, borderline mythical. Even Goodwitch raised an eyebrow.

"That's highly irregular and dangerous-"

"Please, Professor," Jaune said quietly, tipping his hat. "If the lady insists."

Goodwitch sighed. "Very well. Safety barriers up. One coin each per round. Mister Black-toss for them."

Mercury grinned like a coyote, walking forward with a sack of lien coins. "This oughta be good."

First round: Mercury flipped two coins high, one for each shooter. Emerald drew and fired twice-ping, ping. Both coins spun away marked.

Jaune drew once, fanned three shots. His coin took all three, tumbling like a drunken bee. Clean hits.

Second round, higher toss. Emerald nailed hers twice. Jaune once-dead center.

Third. Fourth. Fifth. Emerald's shots grew frantic, bullets screaming. She hit every time, but sweat beaded her brow, hands trembling just a hair as the strain wore on her.

Jaune remained stone-still, revolver barking steady as a heartbeat. Every coin danced with his mark.

Tenth round. Mercury tossed higher than ever, coins glinting like stars against the blue sky. Emerald's shots-ping-ping-perfect-Almost.

Jaune's single shot rang out. The coin flipped end over end, bullet hole clean through the center.

Emerald stared, chest heaving. Her score: flawless. Jaune's: flawless.

But everyone knew who'd been chasing. Who was struggling.

She holstered her guns with a clatter, face burning crimson.

"Enough!" She stormed off the range, shoving through the dispersing crowd.

Jaune watched her go, then holstered his gun. He murmured thanks to Goodwitch, nodded to his team-Pyrrha's proud smile, Ruby's cheering bounce-and followed at an easy stride.

Emerald ducked into the treeline beyond the range, heart hammering. She triggered her Semblance-hallucinations blooming, herself vanishing into a dozen false images scattering through the woods. Real her pressed against an oak trunk, breathing hard. He'd never find-

Hoofbeats. Soft, deliberate. Orleans nosed through the underbrush. Jaune was riding her, reins loose. The mare snorted, stopped right in front of the real Emerald's tree.

Emerald's blood ran cold. He knows my Semblance. He's come to kill me for it. For threatening Cinder's plans, she thought.

She dropped the illusions, hands hovering near her guns, eyes wide.

Jaune dismounted slow, hands visible and empty. He tied Orleans to a low branch, then leaned against a boulder ten paces away. He tipped his hat back, those blue eyes calm as a still pond.

"I know killin' intent, Miss Sustrai," he said quietly, voice carrying that soft drawl. "Felt it on the drives more times than I care to count. You ain't got it right now. Scared, maybe. Angry, sure. But not murder."

Emerald's throat worked. "You... you saw through my Semblance."

"Orleans did," he admitted, patting the mare's neck. "Good nose on her. But my lips are sealed. Word of honor. Ain't my secret to tell."

She stared, fists clenched.

"Why? I challenged you. Shot your hat. Humiliated myself trying to beat you-!"

"You were jealous," Jaune stated, "Of Miss Fall spendin' time watchin' me."

Emerald sputtered, face flaming.

"I-That's-She's the first person who ever showed me kindness! Real kindness! I owe her everything!"

Jaune nodded slowly, no judgment in his eyes.

"That's a pity. More folks oughta be kind in this world. Seems like you've had a rough trail."

Emerald looked away, arms crossing tight. "Don't pity me, cowboy!"

"Ain't pity. Just a fact." He pushed off the boulder, voice gentle. "You're an incredible shot, Miss Sustrai. Best I've seen with dual irons. No need to feel jealous or lesser. Miss Fall's a mighty pretty woman-sad, powerful, dangerous. But I ain't interested in courtin' her."

Emerald glanced back, suspicion warring with something softer. "You're not?"

"No, ma'am." He offered a small, sad smile. "Got my reasons. But I hope... maybe we could be friends, at least. Beacon's a big place, but it gets lonely."

She barked a bitter laugh. "Friends? I don't have friends."

"That's a shame," Jaune said earnestly. "Way you stand by Miss Fall-loyal as the day is long-I reckon you'd make a fine one. And maybe... a good person, underneath."

Emerald scoffed, but it cracked. "I'm not good. Not at all."

Jaune considered that. He then plucked a wildflower from the grass-simple white petals, tough little thing growing between the roots. He held it out.

"Good ain't in the bein', Miss. It's in the doin'. And anybody can choose to do good, if they set their mind to it."

She glared at the flower like it had insulted her. She snatched it, cheeks burning scarlet.

"Do you have to be so damn infuriating?!" she yelled, storming past him into the trees.

Jaune watched her go, shook his head with a rueful chuckle.

"Women."

Orleans snorted and bit him.

"Ow!"

- - -

Back in the dorm that evening, shadows long across the floor, Emerald slipped in quietly. Cinder sat at her desk, reviewing scrolls-plans, maps, and the Fall Maiden candidate's possible identities. Mercury lounged on his bunk, Neo painting her nails something violent.

Emerald bowed her head. "Cinder, I... I'm sorry. For losing control today. It was inelegant. I-"

Cinder turned, golden eyes warm. "No apologies necessary, Emerald." Her smile was honey over steel. "Jaune Arc keeps company with several powerful young women-Nikos chief among them, the one Ozpin is likely to choose when the time comes. Having him believe we're... friendly? That's useful. Very useful."

Emerald straightened, relief warring with confusion. "Yes. Of course."

Cinder's gaze drifted to the flower Emerald still clutched, half-crushed in her fist. "And where, pray tell, did that come from?"

Emerald flushed dark. "Arc... gave it to me. After."

Cinder's smile stayed perfect, but something cold flashed behind her eyes-sharp as a skinning knife. "Did he now?"

Emerald's heart stuttered.

She's... jealous? Of me?

A strange, wicked warmth bloomed in her chest. For once, the devotion flowed both ways. She tucked the flower behind her ear almost defiantly.

Mercury swung his legs off the bunk. "Well, this is gettin' too much like a Vacuo soap opera for me. I'm headin' out-gonna see if Arc's buyin' beers for the drama. Later, ladies."

He limped out, whistling. Neo signed something obscene after him.

Cinder watched the door close, then turned back to her scrolls. But her fingers tightened on the edge of the desk, just enough to crack the wood.

Emerald sat on her bunk, touching the flower petals lightly. For the first time in a long while, something besides devotion stirred in her chest-something dangerous, something almost like hope.

Outside, the moon rose over Beacon like a silver coin tossed high, waiting to be shot.

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

Its a different canon its tied to previous post i did explaining about lovecraftican cults on Remnant and Prelati here would be a recurring villian as he would be last true magic user from the the era of gods alongside Salem and Ozma.
Also for this the hiccup that happen to Prelati is that Jacques semblance actived in response to his body being jacked by Pretlati.

If Jacque had the proper training and actived he would have been fine but he never did and his semblance was forcibly and partially activate.
He only did enough to save his soul and mind.
So he is the full power of his semblance.

Semblance: Sovereign Clause
User: Jacques Schnee
Description
Jacques' soul is permanently anchored to his body and cannot be erased, overwritten, or permanently displaced.
If another soul attempts to possess or suppress him, he may be forced into the background, but his core identity remains intact. No invader can fully replace him. Over time, his anchored soul destabilizes the intruder and pushes to reclaim control. Any attacks that attack or effects the mind and soul can be easily resisted or blocked by aura.


Secondary Function: Binding Contracts
Jacques can forge Aura-based "contracts" with others through a mutually acknowledged agreement (verbal deal, signed document, sworn promise).

Once established:
He gains limited influence over the target's actions. He can issue simple compulsions (hesitate, stop, speak, stand down).
He can siphon a small portion of their Aura to reinforce his own. The stronger the target's ambition or greed, the stronger the contract.
The contract only forms if the other person willingly agrees, even if they don't realize Aura is involved.

Limitations
Contracts weaken if loyalty fades.
Strong-willed individuals can resist direct commands. Breaking too many contracts at once strains his Aura.
He cannot control someone who never agreed to him. He has to go through with the end of his deal.

Click to shrink...

Interesting… a Semblance that specifically thwarts Ozpin… at the logical cost of being a zombie after death

"Soul permanently anchored to the body"

There's an idea, Jacques walking around, his flesh puppeteered by his Aura, with a bullet hole in his head or heart, or, more comically, missing a sizable chunk of himself. Perhaps he is just an impotent hopping foot, or maybe a crawling hand?

Now, I have my own ideas about how and why Oz is able to possess others. But that is neither here nor there.

---

By the way, I wrote these two short pieces


#1 Uninsurable:

Yang: "Why the FUCK does it say I owe the school 21,800 Lien for the past two weeks?"

Weiss: "Well you and Blake both have criminal records-"

Yang: "Juvenile only!"

Weiss: "And I assume the school is secretly inflating our prices because they know my family can afford it."

Ruby: Definitely going to complain about this at leadership class.

Blake: "Friendfic idea - Uninsurable, unemployed, floozy has to find rich husband who will let her have his name and add her to his insurance plan."

Yang: "Now... who has a well off family and is at least kind of fuckable... HEY VOMIT BOY!" - Runs out of room

Weiss: "Get back here you slattern, he was into me first." - Chasing her.

Ruby: "Weiss you have a brother my age, right?" - Chasing Weiss

Blake: settling in with her book "Peace at last..." scroogles which kingdoms don't do background check's on the wife's maiden name before selling insurance.

---

#2 The Xiao Long Bloodline - AKA Rubyposting

Ruby - completely unsolicited: "Alright Jaune, I've made up my mind. You want my sister? You can have her. I've left everything you two need in our dorm.

"Jaune: "Wha-?"

Ruby: "Seriously, Jaune?! Yang's not getting any younger and she looked at one of the cats at the pet store on the way back for three seconds too many. You need to secure the Xiao Long bloodline."

Jaune: "Xiao Long bloodline? Wait... What about you?"

Ruby: "What? Ew, no! That's gross. Besides we're sisters, so I couldn't get her pregnant even if I wanted to."

Jaune: "Pregnant?"

Ruby: "Yeah, call me when she is. Crescent Rose wants a cousin."

PS. Yes I have tried making AI art of Ruby punching a boulder. It only makes her punch brick walls.

 

[Sliverhero]

A Simple Twist of Calamity

Cardin Winchester's world was satisfyingly simple. Beacon was a hierarchy, and he was near the top. Then, like a crack in a dam, a delicious piece of gossip had trickled down to him: Jaune Arc, the useless, noodle-armed knight, had faked his transcripts.

It wasn't just a rumor. Cardin had seen the haunted look in Jaune's eyes after a closed-door meeting with Professor Ozpin, the strained silence between him and Pyrrha Nikos. The golden boy was a fraud, and frauds existed to be exploited.

His plan was straightforward. Find Jaune alone, apply pressure, and secure a permanent servant. He tracked his target to a rarely-used courtyard nestled between Beacon's gleaming spires, a place of trimmed hedges and quiet fountains.

Jaune was sitting on a stone bench, back to Cardin, staring at his reflection. He wasn't crying. He just looked… drained.

"Well, well, well," Cardin announced, his voice echoing. "If it isn't Beacon's biggest mistake."

Jaune turned his head slowly. His blue eyes were red-rimmed, hollow with guilt and exhaustion. "Cardin. Please, not today."

"Not today?" Cardin smirked, stepping closer. "I think today's perfect. Heard a little birdy singing about forged documents. Wonder what Goodwitch would do? Or your team?"

A strange stillness settled over the courtyard. The burble of the fountain seemed to grow distant. Cardin shook off a sudden chill.
"Just leave me alone," Jaune mumbled, looking down at his hands. A picture of abject misery.
"Or what?" Cardin laughed. He reached out to shove Jaune's shoulder. "You'll trip over your own..."

Cardin's POV:

His boot caught on a perfectly smooth, level flagstone. He stumbled forward, not into Jaune, but past him. As he windmilled his arms, the ornate brass nozzle of a garden sprinkler, buried in the grass, erupted. A geyser of rusty, icy water shot straight into his open mouth. He gagged, choking on the metallic tang, and spun away, slipping on the suddenly slick grass.

"Ugh! Dammit!" he spat, wiping his face. Pathetic bad luck. He glared at Jaune, who was staring at him with wide, confused eyes. "You happy?" He took a more deliberate step forward. A high-pitched creak sounded above. He looked up.

A gargoyle, a decorative stone grotesque that had clung to the wall for a century, detached from its perch. It wasn't a collapse; it was a clean, almost gentle release. It tumbled down and shattered on the ground directly in front of him. A sharp fragment ricocheted, slicing a clean, shallow line across his cheek.

"Agh!" Cardin yelped, touching the wound. Blood, warm and shocking, welled up. This was… weird. A cold prickle went down his spine. He looked at Jaune. The boy just looked shocked, shrinking back on the bench. It's just coincidence, Cardin told himself. Just really, really bad luck.

He decided to retreat. He could blackmail Jaune later. He turned and ran for the archway. A maintenance drone, a small floating Atlesian model, buzzed silently around the corner on its pre-programmed hedge-trimming route. Its path and speed were perfectly calibrated. A one-in-a-million trajectory.

The whirring blades, meant for leaves, met the back of Cardin's knee.

'Snick.'

A spray of red. White-hot agony. He screamed, a raw, animal sound, collapsing as his leg buckled beneath him. He lay on the ground, writhing, clutching his ruined knee, his Aura flickering wildly as it tried and failed to stem the catastrophic damage to the tendon.

Through a haze of pain, he saw Jaune stand up, his face a mask of horrified concern. "Oh my gods! Cardin! Hold on, I'll get help!" Jaune took a step towards him. "Stay… away…" Cardin rasped, trying to crawl. His searching hand landed on a lost student scroll. As his weight pressed down on it, the Dust battery within, unstable, defective, a flaw in one in ten million, experienced a critical cascade.

It didn't explode. It Imploded With a deep, subsonic THUMP. A momentary, intense gravitational field, smaller than a coin but impossibly dense, yanked everything within a foot towards it.Cardin Winchester's body was violently compressed. There was no dramatic scream, just a wet, crunching pop.
Then, silence.

Where he had been was a vaguely human-shaped lump of condensed matter the size of a suitcase, steaming slightly, coated in the tattered remains of a Beacon uniform. His Aura hadn't shattered. According to every monitor in Beacon, it simply… ceased to exist a millisecond before the implosion. As if it had been switched off.

Other POVs:

Pyrrha Nikos arrived at the second-story balcony, her heart aching for Jaune, hoping to offer comfort. She saw Cardin approach, saw him taunt Jaune. She saw him slip, saw the gargoyle fall. Her body tensed to intervene, but it was over too quickly. She watched, hand over her mouth, as a sequence of impossibly vicious accidents unfolded. When the drone hit, she gasped. When the strange implosion happened, she didn't understand the physics, only the result. Jaune was standing there, hand outstretched, face pale with genuine-looking terror. A tragic, freak accident, her mind insisted, even as her soul trembled at the sheer, horrific improbability of it all.

Glynda Goodwitch felt the anomalous energy spike, a bizarre, localized distortion she couldn't identify. She arrived in time to see the aftermath: the lump, the debris, and Jaune Arc looking shell-shocked. Her first thought was a hidden Semblance, a terrible, uncontrolled one. But Jaune's Aura readings, pulled from the courtyard monitors, showed nothing. No surge, no output. Just Cardin's Aura winking out before a series of mundane, if astronomically unlucky, objects killed him. It defied all her training.

Ruby Rose, skidding to a halt at the archway, saw the scene. Her silver eyes went wide. "Jaune! What happened?!" She saw no malice, no dark energy. She saw a friend in shock and a series of awful, awful coincidences. The horror was in the randomness, the universe's cruel indifference. She rushed to Jaune's side, pulling him back from the gruesome remains. "It's okay! It's not your fault! It was… an accident."

Jaune Arc let Ruby pull him away. He looked down at the compacted mass that had been Cardin, his expression the perfect portrait of dawning, nauseated horror. His body trembled convincingly. "I… I told him to go away," Jaune stammered, his voice shaking. "He just… kept coming… and then all that stuff…" He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs that were technically real, the sobs of a being perfectly performing human distress.

The faculty secured the area. Paramedics (though there was nothing to medic) arrived. The story was already solidifying: 'Tragic Accident Claims Beacon Student. A Freak Chain of Misfortunes.'

Ozpin's POV:

In his lofty office, Ozpin steepled his fingers, rewinding the security feed from the courtyard camera for the twelfth time. He watched Cardin's approach, the stumble, the gargoyle, the drone, the final, physics-defying implosion. He watched Jaune's reactions, the perfect, helpless fear of a bystander.

But his eyes were fixed on the aura monitors synced to the feed. Every student's aura was passively tracked on campus grounds. Cardin's aura level was stable, flaring only briefly with the impact of the drone strike, trying to heal the grievous wound. And then, 0.23 seconds before the scroll imploded, it didn't break. It vanished.


Ozpin leaned back in his chair, the cold unease now a palpable chill in the high tower office. The silence was broken only by the soft whir of the holographic projector and the distant hum of Beacon's systems. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his hot chocolate, but the warmth did nothing to dispel the frost gathering in his veins.

Where had Cardin's Aura gone? It was the question that unraveled everything. Aura was soul, manifestation, life. It didn't vanish. It broke. This… was deletion. He sighed, a weary sound that carried the weight of centuries. Perhaps he was overthinking. The universe was vast and strange; even he did not know all its rules. A tragic, bizarre anomaly. He would monitor Jaune Arc, of course. But for now…

A prickling sensation crawled across the back of his neck. It was a feeling he knew well, the feeling of being watched. Not by camera or Grimm, but by intent. He stilled, his mug halfway to his lips. His eyes, old and sharp, scanned the circular office. The gears turned slowly outside the windows. The amber light of sunset painted the room in long, still shadows. There was no one. No flicker of movement, no shift in the air. The door was closed. The only other presence was the lingering ghost of Cardin Winchester on the paused screen.

" Paranoia. The price of longevity. "He chided himself softly, setting the mug down. The stress of the incident was getting to him. He reached for the control to shut off the feed, his movements slow with a fatigue that was more spiritual than physical.

His hand froze.

On the large central screen, the image was paused on the moment just after the implosion. It showed the courtyard in chaotic stillness: scattered stone, the grotesque lump, Ruby Rose's back as she rushed forward, her silver cape mid-flutter. And there, at the edge of the frame, was Jaune Arc.

Or rather, where Jaune Arc was.
Ozpin leaned forward, his breath catching. The resolution was crystal clear. The boy's face was turned slightly away, toward the remains of Cardin, his expression one of shock. That was what the recording showed. That was what Ozpin had seen a dozen times.

But now, in the perfect, frozen silence of the paused moment, he saw something else.

Jaune's head was tilted at an angle that was almost… curious. The shock on his features had settled into something utterly blank, like the smooth face of a cliff. The sunset light, which in motion had painted him in warm tones, now seemed to lie upon him differently. It didn't reflect. It was absorbed, giving his skin a flat, matte texture, like unpolished stone. His hair, usually a mess of gold, looked stiff and coarse, each strand like a thread of granite.

And the eyes, in motion, they had been wide, blue, and human. Now, frozen, they were not looking at Cardin's body. They were looking directly out of the screen. Directly at him.

They were no longer blue. They were the color of a deep, still tarn, reflecting nothing. Within them was no pupil, no spark of life or emotion. Just a flat, obsidian darkness, like the hollows in a weathered monument. The face around those eyes was serene, ancient, and utterly, chillingly patient. It was the face of something that had witnessed continents rise and fall, not with interest, but with silent, geologic acknowledgement.

It was not the face of a boy who had witnessed a tragedy. It was the face of the tragedy itself, pausing to regard the one who sought to understand it. Ozpin's blood turned to ice. The feeling of being watched wasn't paranoia. It was confirmation. The watcher wasn't in the room. The watcher was in the recording, looking through the lens of a camera, across time and space, to meet his gaze.

He was not looking at Jaune Arc. He was looking at the shape Jaune Arc wore when no one was meant to see. A shape of serene, inhuman stillness. A monument to calamity.
Slowly, carefully, Ozpin reached out and pressed a button. The screen went black, plunging the office into deeper shadow, save for the dying sunset.

The feeling of being watched remained.
He did not turn around. He simply stared into the dark glass of the monitor, where the reflection of his own weary, mortal face was now superimposed over the memory of that other, stony countenance.

For the first time in many, many lives, Ozpin felt a fear that was not for the world, but for himself. He was no longer the hidden guardian in the tower. He was a man who had just realized, with absolute certainty, that he was being studied by the avalanche before it began to move.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79672876

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14548677/1/Reunion-with-Granny-Salem

- - -

The Arc family farmhouse door creaked open on a perfectly ordinary afternoon, and Isabel Arc—still in her apron from baking bread, flour dusting her blonde hair—found herself face-to-face with the literal embodiment of humanity's nightmares.

Salem. The Queen of Grimm. Pale skin, crimson eyes, flowing black robes that seemed to drink the sunlight.

Isabel blinked. "…Hello? Can… I help you?"

Salem's eyes welled with tears. Before Isabel could react, the immortal witch lunged forward and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"GRANDDAUGHTER!"

Isabel's brain short-circuited. "Eh?!"

Nick wandered in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Oh, hey Izzy— Who's this?"

Salem released Isabel just enough to beam at him, tears streaming dramatically down her porcelain cheeks.

"I am Salem! Your… your matriarch!" She clutched her chest, voice trembling. "Just call me… Granny Salem!"

Nick's face lit up like she'd offered him free swords. "Oh! Okay, Granny Salem! Welcome to our home!"

Isabel flailed in the hug, legs kicking uselessly. "NIIIIICK!"

- - -

After a very long, very confusing explanation involving ancient bloodlines, cursed immortality, and a family tree that looked like a horror novel footnote, the three sat in the living room.

Isabel stared at Salem like she was a bomb with a lit fuse.

"You're telling me that you—the Queen of the Grimm—are my distant ancestor?"

Salem nodded eagerly, hands clasped. "Yes, dear!"

"AND YOU UNLEASHED THE GRIMM THAT MURDERED MY PARENTS?!"

Salem's face crumpled. "I didn't know I had any family left! That is… horrific!" She sobbed into the handkerchief Nick politely offered. "Oh, thank you, Nick."

"You're welcome!" Nick said brightly.

Isabel's eye twitched. "DON'T BE NICE TO HER! SHE'S KILLED BILLIONS!"

Salem dabbed her eyes. "I know, I know! I regret it all!"

Isabel's Aura flared gold. She punched Salem square in the face.

The impact launched the immortal witch through three walls, across the farmland, and into a barn-sized boulder—which exploded on contact.

Isabel stood in the wreckage of her living room, chest heaving. "Haa… haa… haa…!"

Salem strolled back moments later, brushing dust off her robes, smiling like she'd just had a lovely walk.

"That was a wonderful hit, dearie! Unfortunately, I can't die."

Isabel's eye twitched harder. "WE'LL SEE ABOUT THAT!"

Salem clasped her hands, practically glowing. "My darling granddaughter is so incredible! A mother, a Huntress, and a doctor! You're amazing!"

Isabel's cheeks flushed despite herself. "Well, thank you—" Then rage returned full force. "FLATTERY WILL NOT SAVE YOU, GRIMM QUEEN!"

Salem's eyes sparkled. "Ooh, such wonderful bloodlust! Show me what you can do!"

"RAHHH—!"

Nick held up a hand. Isabel gaped. "Eh?!"

"Izzy," he said reasonably, "you keep telling me I can't fight in the house. Why do you get to?"

"She's an evil immortal Queen of the Grimm!"

"Yes, but she's also like your grandma! She's family, and she's trying to reconnect!"

"She killed my family!"

"She's also family! So you two sort this outside—because like you said, 'I'm not paying to fix the house!'"

Isabel scowled. "…FINE! We'll have our battle outside!"

Nick nodded. "After lunch! Bad to fight on an empty stomach!"

Lilac appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea and perfect sandwiches. "I've got sandwiches!"

Isabel pinched her nose. "LILAC?! Where were you?!"

"I took cover when you punched Miss Salem," Lilac said cheerfully. "But I managed to make this during the fight. Would you like some, Miss Salem?"

Salem accepted a sandwich with delight. "Certainly, dear! Aw, you're so beautiful and precious! You know, I know a few single men who might make wonderful husbands—"

"Already engaged, but thank you!"

"Awww! Is he handsome?"

"Amazingly handsome!"

Isabel's eye twitched again.

Nick patted her shoulder. "Easy, Izzy, easy…"

Isabel growled. "The immortal Queen of the Grimm is my ancestor. She murdered my parents!"

"Yes, and she's really sorry," Nick said. "You can tell!"

"I shouldn't be sitting here drinking tea with her! I should be destroying her! AND YOU SHOULD TOO!"

Salem smiled sweetly. "You can both try to destroy me after lunch. Is that fair?"

Nick grinned. "Sounds fair to me!"

Isabel threw her hands up. "GRAAAHHHHH!"

- - -

The afternoon passed in a blur of total destruction—fields cratered, trees demolished, the farmhouse miraculously spared by Lilac's refereeing. Isabel and Nick unleashed everything; Salem took it all with delighted laughter and compliments.

Eventually, the four sat in the miraculously intact living room, sipping more tea amid the distant smoke of ruined farmland.

Salem dabbed her lips daintily. "So you see, I can't actually die no matter what you do."

Isabel glared pure hatred. "Grrrr…!"

Nick beamed. "Wow. I used the stuff Izzy told me not to use in city limits and still couldn't kill you! You're incredible, Granny Salem!"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!"

Salem patted Isabel's hand. "Dear, calm down. It's not good for your blood pressure."

"I CAN CONTROL MY BLOOD PRESSURE!"

Nick rubbed her back. "Easy, Izzy. More violence isn't gonna solve this."

"EH?!"

"We hit her with our best stuff and it didn't even faze her!"

Salem nodded proudly. "It's been centuries since I've faced a sword that big! And you handled it so well, Nick!"

"Aw, thanks, Granny!"

"GRRRRR…!"

Salem turned to Isabel, eyes shining. "And wow! You suplexed me right into the ground!" She clapped. "Incredible!"

"Stop complimenting me on failing to kill you!"

Salem's expression softened. "Listen, Isabel… For thousands of years, I had nothing but revenge—on my husband, on life itself. Now… all of a sudden, I have family. Family I missed. Family I…" Her voice cracked. "Family I killed." Tears welled again. "All this time… I wasn't alone, and I didn't know it. I'm a terrible person. I don't blame you for hating me. I know hate. But hatred… hatred feels so petty now."

Isabel's glare wavered. "Grrrr…!"

Salem reached out hesitantly. "Please. Allow me to try—just try—to make up for it? It won't be easy, but… I want to."

Isabel stared for a long moment.

Then: "…No."

Salem's face fell, but she nodded. "I see. I'll keep trying anyway."

Isabel stood abruptly, stalking to the holoscreen. "Then I'll keep trying to kill you." She dialed with furious jabs. "Ugh… I can't believe I'm calling him…"

Lilac tilted her head. "Who, Mom?"

Isabel ground her teeth. "Ozpin…"

Salem perked up. "Oh? You don't like him?"

"He kept trying to recruit me for some 'special project.' Got really pushy when I said no. Recruited Summer Rose—she died, vanished, whole thing stank. Never trusted him."

Salem chuckled darkly. "Heh. About Summer… she's not dead. And Ozpin? I agree. Shifty bastard."

"Eh?"

The screen connected. Ozpin's face appeared, mug in hand.

"Hello? Isabel? Are you—"

Salem leaned in, smiling sweetly. "Hello, darling! We have family! Isn't it wonderful?" Her eyes narrowed. "Of course you couldn't bother to tell me, you petty little ingrate!"

Ozpin's calm cracked. "Petty?! You're the one who launched a war on all life because you turned us immortal!"

"Oh, here we go—!"

"No, you listen, you two-faced bitch—!"

"Tiny-dicked bastard!"

"That's not what you said in bed!"

Isabel, Nick, and Lilac stared at the screen—Ozpin and Salem descending into a full-blown ex-spouse screaming match that would've made a divorce court blush.

Isabel's jaw hung open. "…Wha…?"

Nick blinked slowly. "Huh. Looks like we all need a lot of family counseling."

Lilac winced, offering a bottle. "Um… wine, Mother?"

Isabel snatched it, popped the cork with her thumb, and chugged the entire thing in three long pulls.

Lilac sighed. "I'll… keep them coming."

 

[Sliverhero]

A Simple Twist of Calamity: part 2

The quiet of the empty training room was a balm after the suffocating concern. Team JNPR had just left, Pyrrha's hand lingering on his shoulder, Ren's quiet nod, Nora's uncharacteristically hushed tone. They'd bought it. They'd all bought the performance of the traumatized, lucky survivor. The heavy door hissed shut, sealing him in the sterile, white-lit space.

The tremor in Jaune's hands ceased instantly. The hollow, wounded look in his blue eyes drained away, leaving them flat and empty, like two chips of polished slate. The human warmth evaporated from his face, his features settling into an expression of serene, profound boredom. He pulled his scroll from his pocket, the movement smooth and unnaturally precise.

He tapped a contact saved under 'Cinder's Clown'. It connected after one ring. "Talk," came Roman Torchwick's voice, clipped and tense. There was no playful lilt, no theatrical annoyance. Just the clean, sharp tone of a subordinate reporting.

"The containment field is stable," Jaune said, his voice devoid of the usual hesitant tenor. It was a dry, rasping sound, like stones grinding slowly together. "No structural compromise to the persona. The Ozpin entity observed the event. Its reaction was within predicted parameters: confusion, suspicion, then forced rationalization. It is afraid, but it will choose to believe the lie. For now."

On the other end, in a dusty warehouse by the Vale docks, Roman Torchwick stood perfectly still. He wasn't lounging against a crate or twirling his cane. He stood at parade rest, his face a mask of rigid concentration. As Jaune spoke, a minute crackle, like settling gravel, whispered from his jawline. His gloved fingers, resting on Melodic Cudgel, were utterly motionless, not a single fidget or tap. He was listening with his whole being.

"The local irritant, the 'Cardin' unit, is neutralized," Jaune continued, a flicker of something like distaste in his stony tone. "The process was inefficient. A cascade of localized misfortune. A stumble, a falling decorative element, a maintenance drone on a sub-optimal path, a consumer-grade power source undergoing spontaneous gravitational collapse. Pathetic. It wasted more energy than it was worth, but the narrative of 'freak accident' is now cemented. The alternative, direct, visible force, would have been more wasteful still."

Roman absorbed this. His emerald eyes, usually alight with mockery, were dull, like moss on a long-shadowed rock. "Understood. The theatrics with the human girl, the 'Fall Maiden' script…?"
"Proceed as planned. Cinder Fall is a useful catalyst. She believes she is leveraging you, let her. Her ambition, her human rage, creates excellent noise and draws attention in useful directions. Utilize her until her structural integrity fails or her purpose is served. Then, we repurpose the materials."

"And the Silver-Eyed contingent? The 'Ruby Rose' unit?" A long, silent pause. In the training room, Jaune didn't blink. "An anomaly. A random crystallization of light. Beautiful, in its way. Like lightning striking a specific tree. It is not a threat. It is a weather pattern. We do not fight the weather, Roman. We wait for it to pass, or we use its erosion to our advantage. Continue to observe."

"Yes, sir." The call ended. Jaune lowered the scroll, his arm moving with a slow, deliberate gravity. The performance was over. The calculations were updated. The plan, measured in epochs, not semesters, continued its patient, grinding course.

A soft, sharp intake of breath. It wasn't from the scroll. Jaune turned his head, not with a human's quick jerk, but with the slow, inexorable pivot of a planetary body. His eyes, now fully the color of a stagnant quarry pool, fixed on the observation window of the training room control booth. A window that was supposed to be empty.

Pressed against the glass was the pale, horrified face of Velvet Scarlatina. Her long rabbit ears were pinned back in terror. One hand was clamped over her mouth, the other splayed against the window. She'd heard everything. Their eyes met. Velvet saw no surprise, no panic, no malice in Jaune's gaze. She saw only a profound, indifferent acknowledgment, like a mountain noting an ant upon its slope. Then, he took a single, calm step forward.

Velvet's survival instincts, honed by a lifetime of being bullied, screamed. She spun and bolted, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as she fled down the corridor. She had to find Coco. She had to tell someone. Jaune… he's not human. He's working with Torchwick. He killed Cardin on purpose!

The hallway was empty, lined with lockers and doors to other training rooms. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, organic drum. She fumbled for her own scroll, her fingers slick with panic. Just get to the courtyard, get to the dorms, find Coco....

Ahead of her, a bank of student lockers, rocket-propelled for easy transport of gear, lined the wall. They were dormant, powered down, their hatches sealed. As Velvet ran past them, the locker at the very end of the row emitted a soft, internal 'click'.

Its status light flickered from red to green.
With a deafening 'WHUMP' of compressed air, the entire six-foot-tall, half-ton steel locker blasted off its mounting rails. It didn't malfunction slowly. It didn't wobble. It fired like a torpedo, straight down the center of the hallway, its polished metal surface reflecting Velvet's terrified, backward glance in a distorted blur.

To any observer, to any system diagnostic, it was a catastrophic, one-in-a-billion mechanical failure. A stuck valve, a crossed circuit, a perfect storm of faults. To Velvet, it was the hallway itself reaching out to crush her.

She screamed, a short, sharp sound cut off by the devastating impact. The locker hit her at hip level, folding her body around it with a sickening series of cracks. It didn't stop. It carried her broken form along, smearing a red trail down the sterile white wall for twenty feet before finally jamming to a halt against a structural beam, its nose crumpled.

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the faint hiss of escaping pressure from the locker's piston. Down the hall, the door to Training Room 3 hissed open. Jaune Arc walked out. He looked down the corridor at the scene of horrific, improbable accident. He saw the twisted metal, the still form of Velvet Scarlatina partially pinned beneath it.

He showed no reaction. His face was once again the picture of youthful, concerned confusion, but it was settling onto his features a fraction too slowly, like a mask being lowered after the performance had already ended. He took out his scroll again, not to call for help, but to observe. A notification blinked.' Aura Monitor Alert: Student 087-Velvet Scarlatina, Aura Depletion: Critical Physical Trauma. Vital Signs: Null.'

He deleted the notification. Then, he began to run, his face finally achieving the perfect pitch of panicked, grief-stricken horror. "HELP!" he cried, his voice echoing down the carnage-strewn hall. "SOMEONE, HELP! THERE'S BEEN A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT!"

In the control booth, the observation window where Velvet had stood moments before was empty. On the console, a single, hairline crack had appeared in the reinforced glass, radiating out from where her hand had pressed in fear. A flaw. A random imperfection. Nothing more.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The bullhead touched down hard on the cracked concrete outside the old textile mill, rotors still spinning as both teams piled out into the cold night air. Weapons drawn, faces set in grim determination—Ruby's silver eyes blazing, Yang's hair already flickering with restrained fire, Blake's shadow clones flickering at the edges of her Aura. Jaune led the charge, Crocea Mors unfolded, shield up, every step fueled by the kind of parental rage that could level mountains.

They breached the basement door in perfect sync: Weiss's glyphs boosting speed, Nora's hammer blowing the lock into scrap metal, Pyrrha's polarity yanking the hinges clean off.

"White Fang! Release the child or—" Ruby started, voice echoing dramatically.

They froze.

In the center of the dimly lit room, surrounded by a dozen very confused and very unconscious White Fang grunts (all sporting identical goose-egg bruises on their foreheads courtesy of what looked like a chair leg), sat Adam Taurus.

The feared revolutionary, the scarred swordsman, the man who'd once left Blake running for her life… was listening with rapt attention to a tiny blonde Faunus girl who was standing on a folding chair, hands on hips, ears flat with righteous indignation.

"—and carrots are just lies! They say they make you see in the dark but I ate THREE WHOLE ONES and I still tripped over my bunny in the night! Beans are honest! Beans make you strong AND give you magic toots!"

Adam, leader of the White Fang, terror of Vale, nodded slowly, expression deadly serious. "A compelling argument. The protein content alone—"

Mia jabbed a finger at him. "And they're green! Green is the best color for fighting bad guys!"

"An excellent point," Adam conceded, voice grave. "Though I've always been partial to red."

"That's because you haven't tried lima beans with ketchup!"

The teams stood in the doorway, weapons half-raised, mouths open.

Jaune's brain blue-screened. "…Mia?"

Mia whipped around, ears perking straight up. "PAPA!"

She leapt off the chair (Adam instinctively reached to spot her like a worried uncle at a playground) and sprinted across the room, slamming into Jaune's legs with enough force to stagger him. He dropped to his knees instantly, arms wrapping around her so tight she squeaked.

"Kitten—oh gods—are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Mia pulled back, utterly unscathed except for a smudge of what looked like chocolate on her cheek. "They gave me cookies! And then Uncle Adam came and yelled at them for being dumb then hit them and then we talked about vegetables!"

Everyone slowly turned to look at Adam.

Adam cleared his throat, standing with as much dignity as a six-foot-something revolutionary could manage in such a situation.

Blake made a strangled noise. "Adam. What."

He shrugged, picking up Wilt and Blush but making no move to draw them. "This local cell grabbed the wrong child. They assumed Mia was your child, but I knew you were never pregnant. I came to… correct their misunderstanding." He glanced at Mia, something dangerously soft flickering behind the mask. "Found this one instead. She introduced herself very politely and then demanded to know my stance on legumes."

Yang lowered her gauntlets. "So you… debated vegetables with a four-year-old."

"She's very passionate," Adam said defensively.

Mia tugged Jaune's sleeve. "Papa, Uncle Adam says beans are better for fighting than carrots! He's smart!"

Jaune looked up slowly. "… Adam."

Adam met his eyes, something almost sheepish in the set of his shoulders. "So. You loved Katy Sith?"

Jaune's grip on Mia tightened protectively, but his voice stayed steady. "With all my heart."

"And this is your daughter?"

"Yes."

Adam nodded once, decisive. He gestured to Mia. "You're free to go."

The entire room: "…Huh?!"

Adam rolled his eyes behind the mask. "I'm a freedom fighter and terrorist, not a monster."

Blake stepped forward, incredulous. "You were fine with killing humans!"

"They were transporting Faunus slaves, Blake," Adam snapped, old bitterness flaring. "This is a good father with an innocent daughter. I'm not about to orphan her unless it would be suitably epic and dramatic."

Jaune blinked. "…Like a final duel over a matter of life and death as our philosophical views clash?"

Adam pointed at him. "Exactly."

"With like… a giant robot involved?" Jaune added, unable to help himself.

"Giant robots make everything better," Adam agreed fervently. "Especially philosophical arguments. Like Gundam Wing Zero."

Jaune's jaw dropped. "I loved that show."

"Same! The self-destruct sequence alone—"

Blake threw her hands up. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

Adam turned to her, genuinely offended. "I did! We watched the entire series! You just wrote a bunch of horny yaoi fanfics about Heero and Duo and completely ignored the deeper themes of pacifism and existential dread!"

"I DID NOT IGNORE—" Blake caught herself, face scarlet as Yang started cackling. "I appreciated the themes!"

"You titled one 'Zero Gravity Kisses'!"

"THAT WAS SYMBOLISM."

Mia tugged Jaune's sleeve again. "Papa, what's yaoi?"

Jaune stood, hoisting her onto his hip. "Something you're learning about in… twenty years. Maybe thirty. We'll negotiate."

Adam sheathed his sword with a sigh. "Look. The kid's fine. These idiots are unconscious and are hurting the cause, so they deserve to be in jail. I'm leaving. Try not to let her get kidnapped by morons again."

He started for the exit, paused, and looked back at Mia.

Mia waved cheerfully. "Bye Uncle Adam! Bring beans next time!"

Adam's shoulders shook once—like he was suppressing either laughter or tears—and he raised a hand in acknowledgment before vanishing up the stairs.

The teams stood in stunned silence.

Ruby was the first to speak. "…Did we just… recruit Adam Taurus as an uncle?"

Yang wiped a tear from her eye. "I think we did."

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is the strangest hostage rescue in history."

Pyrrha smiled softly. "She really is unstoppable."

Jaune looked down at Mia, who was already yawning against his shoulder, utterly unfazed by the entire ordeal.

"Yeah," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "She really is."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Teams RWBY, CMEN, and JNPR are assigned as part of a training exercise to take out some other teams (using monitors that say someone is 'dead' when they get hit by weapons with a training trigger device) in the Emerald Forest. They have located the camp of the OPFOR (Opposing Force) teams and are studying it from range.

Ruby: "I say we charge in and attack! Total surprise!"

Cinder: "We already lost team BRNZ. Save for May. A frontal attack would be devastating and lose us the match."

May: "S-Sorry...!"

Cinder: "I say we plant explosives nearby, detonate them, lure them to ground of our choosing and slaughter them all with Nikos as our vanguard!"

Weiss: "We're not fighting a real war!"

Nora: "I do like the slaughtering part though!"

Cinder: "It would be metaphorical! ... Mostly."

Mint: pouts

Jaune: "Frontal assault is out unless we can throw them into disarray, and we don't have enough time to lure them out like that..." He smiles "I've got an idea."

Weiss: "Oh, this should be rich..."

Ruby: "I say we hear him out!"

Cinder: "What is your plan, Arc?"

Later... An annoyed looking Jaune wearing some glasses and holding a clipboard storms up to the camp defenders.

Neptune: "Hey! If you're just gonna charge in, Arc, you gotta-!"

Jaune: "I don't have time for your crap, Vasilias! I need to talk to Cardin! He's gotta sign some urgent paperwork!"

Sun: "Paperwork? In the middle of an exercise-?"

Jaune: "That's what I said to Professor Goodwitch! But no, I gotta take time out of this thing and be a mail boy! So get me Cardin so he can sign this so I can get rid of this stupid thing already, got it?!"

Sun: "Sure, sure!"

Neptune: "Geez... Chill out, dude."

Jaune: "How chill would you be if you had to do some stupid crap like this?"

Neptune: "Eesh, good point. Come on, main tent."

They head in. Sun calls on Cardin, who comes out. He scowls.

Cardin: "The hell is this, Jauney boy?"

Jaune: "Bullshit, that's what! Just sign the damn paperwork so we can get back to it, huh?"

Cardin: "Any idea what it is?"

Jaune: "Like they'd tell me!"

Cardin: "Fine, fine..." He takes the clipboard, blinks "What... It's just permission slips for lunch allergy exemptions?! Why the hell would she want me to sign-?!"

Jaune stabs him with his sword. His alert rig beeps, turns red, says "YOU'RE DEAD."

Jaune turns and runs, as the rest of Team CRDL and SSSN, stunned, go after him.

Cardin: "What in the actual-?!"

Which is when May's sniper shots begin taking out team ABRN, and the rest of RWBY, JNPR and CMEN attack. The entire camp is soon overrun, and everyone is defeated. Jaune walks back with his team, grinning a bit at Cardin.

Jaune: "Hey Cardin... Hope you're not too sore?"

Cardin: "..." shakes his head and laughs "You crazy son of a bitch... I'll be honest, when I'm not so angry... I'll find it funny as hell."

Sun: "I find it funny now!"

Cardin: "Shut up, Monkey Boy!"

 

[Sliverhero]

A simple twist of calamity part 3

The air in the Vale White Fang safehouse was thick with the smell of dust, rust, and simmering rage. In the central chamber, Adam Taurus stood before a map of Vale, Banesaw a silent shadow beside him.

Perry, the new logistics man, polished his glasses with a soft cloth. "A disgrace," he murmured, his voice a soothing, poisonous drip. "Velvet Scarlatina. A 'freak accident' with a locker, can you believe it?" Adam's grip tightened on Wilt. "Beacon covers its tracks."

"Of course," Perry sighed, his magnified eyes sorrowful. "But the timing... just as human sympathy wanes, a promising Faunus girl dies? It's a narrative, Adam. Written in her blood to justify keeping us down. They paint us as victims of chance to avoid painting themselves as villains."

Banesaw's saw growled. "We hit them, for her. We cant let this slight go!" "A direct assault?" Perry shook his head, his expression pained. "That's what they expect. It would be a slaughter, and they'd call it proof of our savagery. No...We must be the scalpel, not the hammer. We will use the chaos they themselves provide."

Adam turned, his mask boring into Perry. "Explain." "Torchwick and that witch Cinder Fall. They are thugs and schemers, playing at revolution. Let them, Let them crack Vale's shell, let them draw the Huntsmen's eyes. When they are spent, when Beacon is reeling from their chaos and these... 'unfortunate accidents'... that is when we strike. Not at the walls, but at the heart. For Velvet."

"And these tools? Torchwick? Cinder?" Adam's voice was a low growl. Perry's sad smile hardened at the edges, becoming something clean and cold. "When a tool breaks, or threatens the hand that wields it, it is discarded. They are disgusting humans. They are, in their entirety, disposable. The cause is all that matters."

Adam absorbed this, the cold logic seeping past his rage. He gave a single, slow nod, a new, calculating purpose settling over him. "I'll see to the wounded," Perry said, his voice slipping back into its familiar, weary kindness. "New medicine from a sympathetic chemist. Our people must be strong."

He moved into the barracks, a shadow of quiet competence. He tended to a fox Faunus's gash with a gentle, expert touch, applying a clear gel from an unmarked tube. "This new salve is much stronger. It'll prevent infection." "Thanks, Perry. You're a lifesaver." "No problem, we look after our own." He moved to a bear Faunus coughing from Dust-burnt lungs, handing him a cup of dark liquid. "For the cough. Drink it all." He dispensed medicine, changed dressings, offered quiet words. They trusted him. They drank what he gave them.

His rounds complete, he retreated to a windowless storage room at the warehouse's rear. The door clicked shut, sealing him in silence and dust. The change was instantaneous and absolute. The kindly slump vanished from his shoulders, replaced by a posture of neutral, ready efficiency. The empathetic light died in his eyes, leaving them flat and dark, like still water over stone. The face was the same, the tired lines, the faint stubble, but the person behind it was gone, shelved like a tool. This is the true Perry.

He drew a sleek, black communicator from within his jacket. It connected instantly. No greeting was needed. "Report," came the voice from the other end. It was Jaune Arc's voice, but stripped of all youth and hesitation, a dry, grinding whisper, the sound of stones shifting in a deep, dark place.

"The Adam Taurus unit is primed," Perry said, his own voice now a bland, efficient monotone. "The narrative of human systemic murder is implanted. He will leverage the Cinder Fall and Roman Torchwick disruptions as a catalyst for violent, attention-drawing conflict. His emotional volatility makes him optimal for this function."

A pause. On the other end, in a Beacon training room, the sound was of utter, patient stillness.
"The rank and file?" "The tailored neuro-active compounds are being administered. Loyalty induction, suppression of independent cognition, heightened out-group aggression. Effects are cumulative and irreversible after the third dose. Most are on their second, Compliance is soon to be total. They believe it is medicine. They even thank me for it."

"Good." The stone-voice held a note of cold, quiet satisfaction. "Their fervor will be our weapon. Their bodies, our resources. The plan proceeds. Vale will burn not for a Faunus future, but for our future. From the ashes, our dominion will be reasserted. Step by step, accident by accident, we reclaim what is ours." "Understood," Perry replied. "The White Fang will be the torch. We will be the architects of the new foundation."

The line went dead. Perry stood in the dusty silence for a moment longer, a statue of perfect, inhuman neutrality. Then, he took a slow, deliberate breath. The flat emptiness in his eyes softened, warming with a practiced, weary concern. The rigid efficiency of his posture relaxed into the familiar, gentle slouch. He became the fake Perry again, the persona settling over him like a well-worn coat, each thread of simulated kindness pulled back into place.

He opened the door and stepped back into the dim light. The fox Faunus girl waved, her bandaged arm held carefully. "Feeling better already, Perry!" He gave her a warm, tired smile, the perfect picture of gentle dedication. "I'm so glad to hear it," he said, his voice soft with genuine-seeming care. "We all need to be strong. The fight is just beginning."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The courtyard behind Beacon's daycare was alive with the bright chaos of small children-laughter echoing off the stone walls, colorful balls bouncing across the grass, the faint scent of fresh air and playground mulch. Mrs. Shinano Port-Professor Port's cheerful fox Faunus wife, her bushy tail swishing as she herded the toddlers-clapped her hands for a game of tag.

"Stay within the flags, little ones! No wandering!"

Mia, ears perked and pigtails bouncing, chased a butterfly near the edge of the group. The flags marked the safe zone, but the butterfly fluttered just beyond-a shimmering tease of blue wings. One step. Two. She slipped past the boundary, giggling as she followed it toward the thicker trees fringing the campus outer wall.

She quickly found a gap in the wall, and climbed through it. Out into the wilds outside the walls. She looked around.

The butterfly had vanished.

Mia paused. The laughter of the other children felt distant now. She turned to head back-and froze.

A Beowulf stood ten feet away, red eyes glowing, black fur bristling. It had slipped through a patrol gap, drawn by the emotions of easy prey.

Low growl rumbling in its throat, it took a step forward.

Mia's heart hammered. She couldn't scream. Couldn't move.

The Beowulf lunged.

She bolted, tiny legs pumping, but tripped on a root and sprawled face-first into the grass. The Grimm's claws scraped earth as it charged.

She couldn't even scream. All she could think was:

DADDY!

A red blur dropped from the sky.

Crescent Rose unfolded in a whirlwind of petals. Ruby landed between Mia and the Beowulf, scythe slicing clean through its neck in one fluid motion. The body hadn't even hit the ground when Yang crashed down beside her, Ember Celica roaring. A single shotgun blast obliterated the body.

The Beowulf dissolved into black mist.

The two sisters glared death where the Grimm had stood. Yang then swung around.

She scooped Mia up instantly, cradling her against her chest. "I've got you, kiddo. I've got you."

Mia's face crumpled. The tears came all at once-great, wrenching sobs as she buried her face in Yang's neck. Yang held her tighter, one hand stroking her back, murmuring soft nonsense words while Ruby scanned the treeline, scythe still ready.

Teachers and older students swarmed the area within minutes-Glynda's telekinesis sealing breaches in the perimeter wards, Port himself booming orders as he swept the grounds. Mrs. Port arrived breathless, tail drooping, face pale.

She bowed deeply to Jaune when he arrived-summoned by frantic scroll message-then to the assembled teams RWBY and JNPR.

"I am so, so sorry," she said, voice trembling. "She was right there-one moment-and then… We'll review every protocol, I swear it. Find every gap!"

Jaune barely heard her. He took Mia from Yang's arms, the little girl still hiccupping sobs into his hoodie. He just held her, rocking gently, until her crying eased into exhausted sniffles.

"Thank you Mrs. Port," he managed softly. "Thank you, Yang, Ruby."

"We were in the area, thank the Breaker," Ruby murmured. Pyrrha nodded stiffly. Weiss hesitated a moment, before looking to Jaune. He nodded, and she reached out to stroke the exhausted little girl's back for reassurance.

Mia clung to Jaune, face blotchy, ears flat. "I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered, fresh tears spilling. "I didn't mean to go far. I just wanted the butterfly…"

Jaune's arms tightened around her. "It's okay, kitten. You're safe. That's all that matters."

She cried herself out against his chest, tiny body shaking with leftover fear until her breathing evened into sleep. He didn't move, just held her, staring at nothing.

Jaune's face remained like stone. All the way back to the common room. They all sat down on the couches and chairs around the coffee table.

The room was silent except for the soft ambient sounds from the open window and Nora handing out snacks. She was quiet as she sat down, drinking her soda and munching cookies. Weiss, Ren and Pyrrha had calming cups of tea, while Ruby nibbled at some cookies and Yang sipped some water alongside Blake.

Finally, Jaune spoke, voice low and flat.

"…In the morning… I'm going to resign."

Pyrrha's teacup rattled against its saucer. "What?!"

Weiss's eyes widened. "Jaune, you can't be serious."

Nora shot to her feet. "Why?! Because of one scary thing?!"

Ren was still calm when he spoke, but there was an urgency to his voice:

"Jaune. Think this through."

Ruby's voice was small. "You… you're leaving?"

Blake's ears flattened. "That would be a mistake."

Jaune didn't look at any of them. "I should have kept better watch. I brought her here-into a school full of Huntsmen-in-training, next to a forest full of Grimm… And she could have died today. I should have protected her better. I'm too irresponsible to stay."

Pyrrha knelt in front of him, gentle but firm. "Jaune, accidents happen. Even here. You didn't fail her. I know this was bad, but it's not enough to warrant such a decision!"

Weiss nodded sharply. "Resigning won't make her safer. It will only take away the dream you've worked so hard for!"

Ren's hand settled on Jaune's shoulder, tranquility flowing through his Semblance in a cool wave. "One mistake doesn't erase everything you've built."

Nora's eyes were suspiciously shiny. "You don't get to quit on us, Jaune-Jaune! We need you!"

Ruby stepped closer. "Please don't go. We… we care about you."

Blake's voice was quiet but intense. "Running away doesn't fix anything. Trust me-I know."

Jaune's jaw clenched, stubborn resolve hardening.

"I didn't pay close enough attention. What kind of a father is this selfish? This stupid? I can't choose my dream over her-!"

Yang crossed the room in three strides and slapped him-open palm, sharp but controlled-across the cheek.

The crack echoed.

Everyone froze. Weiss covered her mouth with her hands in disbelief. Pyrrha stared sharply at Yang.

The blonde brawler's red eyes blazed. "You made a promise to Katy. And to Mia. That you'd become a Huntsman. That you'd make this work. Are you breaking that promise now?"

Jaune stared up at her, stunned.

"Yes, she could have died today," Yang continued, voice shaking with fury and fear. "But it wasn't your fault. She wandered. We saved her. You don't get to throw everything away because you're scared. You don't get to abandon her. You don't get to abandon us."

Ren's Semblance flowed stronger, steadying the storm inside Jaune's chest. He closed his eyes, breathing deep.

Slowly, he nodded.

"... I'm sorry." His voice was rough. "I wasn't thinking. I just… saw her in danger and thought I… If anything happened to her…"

Yang's anger deflated. She reached out, cupping the cheek she'd struck.

She locked her eyes to his, a quiet pain in those violet irises.

"It's okay to be scared. But don't let it win. Please."

He looked at her-really looked-and something passed between them, raw and unspoken. Ruby winced but understood.

Jaune exhaled, shoulders slumping. "I'm not going anywhere. Thank you."

He shifted Mia gently, hugging her sleeping form closer.

Yang's voice softened. "She'd never forgive you if you quit because of her. She'd think it was her fault."

Jaune's eyes glistened. "Yeah. She would."

The room settled into quiet relief-Pyrrha's hand on his arm, Nora flopping beside him with a watery grin, Ruby curling up on his other side. Weiss sighed softly in relief, as Blake smiled gently. Ren allowed his stoic facade to crack, just a bit, as he smiled back at his friends.

Yang stepped back, suddenly a bit self conscious... But not before she swept her fingers through Mia's blonde curls. She smiled gently, and Yang smiled back as she stood back behind the nearby couch. Jaune smiled back, and looked down at Mia.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jaune murmured, "But…" He cradled his sleeping daughter, "We're finding every damn hole in the walls and fixing them up."

"Agreed," Weiss stated firmly. "I'll pay for it all if I have to."

"Same," Pyrrha growled.

"I don't think you need to go that far-" Jaune tried, but Weiss and Pyrrha shook their heads.

"We're in this together," Pyrrha said, "We're not letting this happen again. We… We can't prevent everything bad from happening… But we can look out for one another."

"That's what friends do," Ruby said warmly, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah," Jaune murmured. "That's what friends do…"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon common room had been commandeered for another evening of ValeWatch—Beacon's guilty pleasure trash TV marathon. Blankets draped over couches, popcorn bowls balanced precariously on knees, and the big scroll screen flickering with the opening credits of the latest episode.

Weiss Schnee, who'd sworn up and down she was "above this nonsense," was wedged between Ruby and Blake, arms crossed but eyes glued to the screen. Even she couldn't resist the trainwreck.

The episode opened with dramatic music and a narrator booming about "ancient frozen warriors from Solitas's forgotten past!"

Weiss groaned first. "Vikings… frozen Vikings from Solitas. They were in an iceberg, unfroze, and attacked the city."

Yang lost it—laughing so hard she nearly rolled off the couch.

Jaune joined her, wheezing. "It's like they got a bunch of random extras to wear the worse wigs possible!"

Ruby, nose wrinkled, pointed at the screen. "Ugh… those axes and swords are all wrong! They're modern Dust-refined steel, not forged!"

Nora, mouth full of caramel popcorn, nodded vigorously. "I know, right?! My enjoyment of this episode is severely impaired!"

Ren calmly passed her the bowl. "More caramel popcorn?"

Nora beamed. "Thanks, Renny! I am appeased!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Well, at least Pyrrha's in this episode to—"

On screen, Pyrrha's character burst into frame—dramatic wind machine hair, cape billowing, delivering lines with the skill of a first-year drama student... On her first day.

"Hey you! Stop that! You Vikings! Are! So bad! I will defeat you!"

The room went dead silent.

Weiss stared. "…How many acting classes did you take again?"

Pyrrha—curled up beside Jaune on the floor cushions—went scarlet. "I was nervous!"

Jaune patted her shoulder. "Still, this is a great fight scene. You're the best at those, Pyr!"

Pyrrha's blush deepened, but she smiled. "I—Oh, w-well, thank you!"

Yang scowled into her popcorn. "Hmph. I could do better fight scenes…"

Jaune blinked. "Huh?"

Yang spoke louder, tossing her hair as she scooted up on Jaune's other side. "Yeah, that was basically the only saving grace of this show: cool fight scenes, hot guys and girls, and total insanity."

Weiss perked up. "Wait—was? It was canceled?!"

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. I'm guessing they brought Pyr on as a desperate Hail Mary?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Then they made a spin-off set in Menagerie and… well, that lasted four episodes before cancellation."

Ruby winced. "I heard the producer got thrown out a window in his office building."

Everyone stared.

Ruby waved her hands. "He was fine after!"

Nora brightened. "Oh good! That's what I was worried about!"

Yang leaned forward, grinning at Pyrrha. "So, you've gotta have all kinds of dirt from behind the scenes, Cereal Girl—right?"

Pyrrha fidgeted. "Oh, well… not really. Mr. Hoff was actually very nice. He tried to help me with acting and even gave me advice for a singing career… which I didn't go for. Not fully."

Jaune's eyes lit up. "I bet you sing great!"

Pyrrha went full tomato. "Th-thank you!"

Yang's scowl deepened. "I also sing, ya know."

Jaune turned. "Oh, I'm sorry, Yang. I'd love to hear you sing too!"

Weiss huffed. "I am literally a professional singer!"

Jaune blinked. "But I've already heard you sing, Weiss."

Weiss crossed her arms. "Hmph!"

Jaune stared at the ceiling. Women.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway! Next episode!"

Weiss leaned forward. "Please tell me this isn't as crazy as the last one?"

Yang grinned wickedly. "It totally isn't! In fact—Blake? Stop reading your smut fics and watch with us! I think you'll find it hilarious!"

Blake lowered her book, ears twitching. "I somehow doubt it."

They hit play.

Five minutes into the episode, Blake stared in absolute disbelief.

"…Let me get this straight. The straw feminist and Faunus rights activist who died an episode ago… is reincarnated as a dog."

Yang wheezed. "Eeyup!"

Jaune nodded solemnly. "Totally!"

Blake pinched her nose. "…And this episode's writer's other credits include?"

Jaune shrugged. "Mostly 'World's Blankiest Blank' kind of stuff."

Blake sighed. "Well. At least they're consistent."

Weiss smirked. "Oh, I am just loving this~."

Blake shot her a glare. "You would, racist!"

Weiss gasped. "Brat!"

"Sow!"

"Hypocrite!"

Jaune sighed as Weiss and Blake devolved into bickering. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

Yang slung an arm around his shoulders. "At least it wasn't the Cat People Episode. We'd never hear the end of it."

From the floor, Nora raised a hand. "Can we watch the Cat People Episode next?!"

Ren handed her more popcorn. "No."

Nora pouted. "Awww…"

 

[Sliverhero]

Did this too celebrate the release of the new resident evil game.

So lets the game begin.


The Remnant Gazette
FRAUD FOUND AT BEACON: Arc Family Disgraced as Heir's Forged Documents Revealed
Vale, 12th of Frost. In a shocking turn of events, Jaune Arc, first-year team leader of JNPR, has been summarily expelled from Beacon Academy following an investigation confirming he used falsified transcripts and recommendation letters to gain admission. The Arc family of Higanbana has issued no comment. In a move that has stunned observers, Mr. Arc's entire team, Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, and Pyrrha Nikos, has voluntarily withdrawn from the academy in solidarity. "Where he goes, we go," Ms. Nikos was heard stating. Headmaster Ozpin confirmed their departures, citing a breach of "fundamental trust." The whereabouts of the former team are currently unknown.



7 Years Later

The airship to Neo Glenn descended through a perpetual, sickly-yellow haze, the legacy of the Forever Fall toxins that once saturated the region. Below, the reborn city, formerly the ruin of Mountain Glenn, glittered like a cybernetic abscess. Towering, sleek buildings of black glass and polished steel, all stamped with the angular, red helix logo of Phalanx Corporation, pierced the smog. It was a monument to corporate power, a city-state where Phalanx wasn't just an employer; it was the law, the utility, the landlord, and God.

Ruby Rose, now twenty-four, pressed her forehead against the cool viewport. The cheerful, cape-wearing girl was a ghost living in this woman's reflection. Her silver eyes were hardened by years of independent hunting, her frame leaner, her expression etched with a permanent line of worry. In her hands, she clutched a worn, leather-bound journal. Flipping to a dog-eared page, her finger traced the bubbly handwriting of her past self:

"Jaune came by today. He's… different since everything happened. Quieter. Sharper. He said he's building something, a place where what happened to him won't ever happen to anyone again. He said Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren are with him, and they're doing real good! He asked if Yang wanted to come see. I think it helped, talking to someone who isn't family or Blake. He's come such a long way from the guy who faked his way into Beacon. He really wants to protect people."

A bitter smile touched her lips. That entry was three years old. A year after that, Yang Xiao Long, chasing a lead on a particularly savage White Fang splinter group, had come to Neo Glenn. She'd sent a handful of cheerful messages, talking about "big opportunities" and "seeing an old friend." Then, six months ago, the messages stopped. Blake, now a Menagerie liaison working remotely from Vale, had heard nothing. Weiss was buried in Schnee Dust Company restructuring. So, it fell to Ruby.

The airship docked with a hydraulic sigh. In the bustling terminal, a familiar shock of silver hair and a stark black uniform caught her eye. A Phalanx security officer, but his posture was all wrong, too relaxed, too predatory. As he turned, adjusting a high-tech gauntlet on his arm, recognition clicked.

"Mercury Black?"
He glanced over, grey eyes assessing her with detached curiosity. "Ruby Rose. Heard you were a big deal these days. Independent Huntress."
"What are you doing here? In that?" she asked, gesturing to the Phalanx uniform with its "Neo Glenn Peacekeeper Corps" insignia.

"First day on the job," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Turns out a particular skill set is valued here. Pays better than freelance thuggery. Less moral ambiguity, too." His gaze sharpened. "You're a long way from Vale. Phalanx doesn't usually invite outsiders."

"I'm not here for Phalanx. I'm looking for my sister, Yang. She was here. Then she vanished."
Mercury's smirk faded. "Missing persons? That's… not really in the Peacekeeper manual. We're more for keeping the peace between corporate departments and deterring Grimm at the perimeter. Internal affairs is a different beast." He shrugged, a gesture that seemed more habitual than genuine. "Look, I'm supposed to report to the central barracks for orientation. Walk with me. You can tell me about it. Consider it a favor for old times' sake."

Grateful for any anchor, Ruby fell into step beside him, pouring out her worries as they moved from the sterile terminal into the cavernous, neon-drenched central plaza of Neo Glenn. She told him about Yang's last messages, her mention of meeting an "old friend," the eerie silence. "It's not like her, Mercury. She's tough, but she's not careless. And she'd never just drop out of touch with Blake, not for this long."

Mercury listened, his eyes constantly scanning the orderly, silent crowds. "An old friend, huh? In this city, that could mean any..." A wet, choking cough echoed from a side alley. Then a scream, cut off into a horrible gurgle. Near the entrance to a subway tunnel marked SECTOR 7 - PHALANX R&D (CLEARANCE OMEGA), a man stumbled out. He was pale, sweating profusely, one hand clutching his stomach. He looked at a woman walking by, his eyes wide with panic and confusion. "Help… me… it… burns…" he rasped.

Then he vomited, a torrent of blackened blood. He collapsed, his body beginning to twitch and spasm violently. The woman screamed, backing away. Before anyone could react, the twitching man 'lurched' back to his feet with unnatural speed. His movements were jerky, animalistic. His eyes had filmed over with a milky white haze. With a snarl that held no human intelligence, only ravenous hunger, he lunged and sank his teeth into the screaming woman's arm.

Chaos, pure and simple, erupted. More people began to stagger from the tunnel and adjacent buildings, some shambling, some sprinting with feral grace, all turning on the uninfected with teeth and nails and a mindless, viral rage.

"What in the hell is this?!" Mercury spat, his cool demeanor shattered. He wasn't looking at trained fighters or Grimm. This was a sickness, a madness, spreading through a civilian population like fire. He slammed a fist into the comms unit on his wrist. "Central, this is Peacekeeper Black! We have a… a riot? A mass disturbance in the central plaza, Sector 7 junction! Requesting immediate backup!"

Only static hissed back, punctuated by a distant, fading scream over the channel. Ruby's weapon was already in her hands. Crescent Rose unfolded from its compact case with a series of mechanical ' clicks' and 'shrieks'. The sight of the familiar scythe was a comfort in the surreal nightmare. "They're not Grimm. They're people... but they're sick. Really, really sick."

"People who want to eat other people!" Mercury snapped, firing a shotgun blast from his boot at a sprinting infected that got too close, blowing it back. "This isn't in the contract! What is Phalanx doing down there?!"

They moved back-to-back, a reluctant alliance forged in sudden, inexplicable terror. Ruby fought with precision, using the blunt end of Crescent Rose to shove and trip, the blade only flashing out for definitive, lethal strikes when overwhelmed. Mercury was brutal and efficient, his prosthetic legs becoming blurs of devastating kinetic force.

But for every one they put down, two more seemed to shamble out of the geometric shadows of Neo Glenn.

---------------‐--------------------------------------------------------

High above the chaos, in the central, fortified spire known as the Phalanx Citadel, Jaune Arc watched his new world being born from the old one's death throes. The monitors in his dim command center painted a picture of beautiful, brutal efficiency.

On one screen, Lie Ren moved through a containment corridor like a ghost, his modified StormFlower pistols emitting soft 'thumps'. Each shot was a pinpoint cryo-round, freezing infected in mid-lunge before a gentle palm-strike shattered them into glittering, frozen viscera. Clinical. Clean.

Another feed showed Nora Valkyrie in a main thoroughfare, laughing with genuine, exuberant joy as she brought Magnhild down in a cataclysmic arc. The pavement cratered, and a shockwave of lightning Dust vaporized a charging horde. "Whoops! Strike!" she chirped, bouncing on her heels.

A third displayed Pyrrha Nikos, standing atop an overturned APC. She wasn't even breathing heavily. With a slight furrow of her brow, she exerted her Semblance. Every piece of metal in the street, lampposts, car frames, reinforcement rods, twisted and shot inward, impaling and crushing dozens of the infected into a single, grotesque sculpture of flesh and steel. She gave a small, satisfied nod. "Exemplary," Jaune murmured, a faint, proud smile touching his lips. "The vanguard of a new paradigm."

His gaze lingered on a personal feed. It showed Yang Xiao Long, smiling warmly, her golden hair seeming to glow from within. "Jaune, this is it. You were right. This power… it's a fresh start. For me, for everyone. You're giving us a chance to be more than what we were. To evolve. I'm ready for the next stage. Watch the kids for me, will you? I'll see you on the other side." She gave her signature thumbs-up and stepped back into the cylindrical incubation tube. Amber fluid, humming with genetic potential, enveloped her as her eyes closed in serene acceptance.

"Your sacrifice is the keystone, Yang," Jaune said softly to the recording. "Your strength will be the foundation of the next generation."
The soft 'hiss' of the door announced another presence. Cinder Fall glided into the room, her stride confident in a form-fitting, black and red Phalanx officer's uniform. Her gaze went past Jaune, directly to the looping image of Yang in her tube.

She didn't speak at first, simply observing. The old hunger, the desperate clawing for power that once twisted her features, was gone, replaced by a calm, settled certainty. She moved to Jaune's side, her hand coming to rest gently on his shoulder.

"She looks at peace," Cinder said, her voice softer than Ruby or any of their old foes would ever remember. "She understood the gift you offered. The purity of the transformation." She leaned down, her lips brushing his cheek in a chaste, possessive kiss. "I will make sure her child, and all of ours, are safe. That they inherit the world we're making for them." Jaune covered her hand with his own, a silent communion between architects.

Cinder straightened, her amber eyes hardening as they shifted to the tactical displays, focusing on a sector where beleaguered Phalanx Civil Police were being overrun. "I'll secure the eastern quadrants. The police need a morale boost. Or a demonstration."

She turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. A wistful, almost girlish smile, a ghost of a person long buried, flickered across her face. "Who would have thought," she mused, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying clearly in the silent room, "that betraying Salem would taste so… sweet."

As she finished speaking, the fingers of her Grimm arm, the one given to her by the Queen she'd forsaken, clenched. The black, bony appendage swelled grotesquely for a moment, veins of molten orange pulsing under the chitinous plates, power radiating from it in a visible heat haze. It was a monstrous, terrifying limb of pure destruction. Then, with a smooth contraction, it reverted back to its normal, sleek, obsidian form.

She left without another word, the door sealing behind her, leaving Jaune alone with his screens and his plans.

His attention was finally captured by a fourth monitor, marked SECTOR 7 BREACH - CENTRAL PLAZA. The feed showed a maelstrom of rose petals and a gleaming scythe, wielded with a skill that was both familiar and dangerously refined. And beside her, fighting with brutal, prosthetic-enhanced kicks, was a new Peacekeeper recruit.

Jaune's cold, calculating smile returned, wider now, brimming with intellectual curiosity.
"Ruby Rose," he breathed, his voice a study in chilling warmth. "You always did have a talent for dramatic entrances. And you've brought a new variable. Mercury Black… how intriguing." He tapped a command into his console, isolating their struggling figures. "Let's see what the T-Virus makes of a Silver-Eyed Warrior. And let's see just how far my old friends have truly come."

Below, unaware of the eyes upon them, Ruby and Mercury fought back-to-back against the rising tide of the dead, the first sparks of resistance in Jaune Arc's flawless, monstrous new dawn.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

---

Jaune sat cross-legged on the dorm floor with Mia curled in his lap, his scroll open in front of them. The screen glowed soft and warm, casting little flickers of light across her curious face as he swiped to the album slowly, like every photo was made of glass.

"This one's from the first barn dance Katie ever dragged me to," he said, voice low. The picture showed a younger Jaune—hair even messier, cheeks flushed—grinning sheepishly while a pretty cat-eared girl in a sundress glared at the bright red punch stain down her front. "I tripped over my own feet and dumped the whole bowl on her."

Mia giggled, ears twitching. "Mama looks funny!"

"She was furious," Jaune admitted, smiling despite the ache. "Threatened to skin me and use my hide for a new purse. Then she laughed so hard she snorted, and forgave me on the spot."

Mia traced a tiny finger over Katie's smiling face. "You and Mama liked dancing, right, Daddy?"

"We loved it," he said softly. "She could spin me until I was dizzy and still make it look easy."

Mia tilted her head. "You like dancing with Yang, right? And Pyrrha? And Weiss? And Blake?"

Jaune's thumb paused on the scroll. "Yeah, sweetheart. Those nights were… a lot of fun."

"So…" Her voice got smaller, careful. "Why can't one of them be my new mama?"

The air left his lungs like someone had punched him. For a second he couldn't speak; the dorm felt too quiet, the glow of the scroll suddenly too bright.

"Mia…" He swallowed. "It's not that simple, baby."

Her ears drooped. "Why? Don't you like them?"

"No—no, I like them a lot." The words came out rough. "But your mama is your mama. She loved you more than anything in the world. I can't just… replace her."

Mia stared at the photo, lower lip wobbling. "But Mama's gone. I don't remember her, Daddy."

The confession hit harder than any Beowolf ever could. Jaune's eyes stung hot and sudden.

"Mia…"

"Other kids have mamas," she whispered, voice cracking in that tiny, broken way only little kids can manage. "Why can't I?"

He pulled her in, arms wrapping tight around her small frame, pressing her head to his chest so she wouldn't see the tears he was barely holding back. He would not cry. Not in front of her. He couldn't.

"Daddy? Did I say something wrong?" She asked, innocent and quiet.

"You didn't say anything wrong," he managed, voice thick.

She sniffled against his hoodie. "Promise?"

"I promise." He kissed the top of her head, right between her fluffy ears, and held her until the shaking stopped—for both of them.

---

The holodisk sat in Jaune's hand like a loaded gun.

It was small, no bigger than a coin, matte black with a single silver rune etched on the surface. Katy had pressed it into his hand the night before they wheeled her into surgery, her fingers cold, her smile crooked and fearless. He'd promised he would watch it "when he was ready."

Since then… Four years. Four years of moving it from drawer to drawer, box to box. Every time he'd been tempted to put it into a player, his insides had turned to ice. It had gone back in a drawer, a box-Anywhere out of sight. Except now.
Jaune sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on knees, staring at the disk in his hand like it might detonate.

The door creaked. Yang slipped in, arms crossed, hair still damp from the showers.

"Hey," she said softly. "Thought I'd find you brooding."

"I'm not brooding," he muttered. "I'm… contemplating."

Yang snorted.

"Sure." She dropped beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She was silent for a moment, staring at it with him.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Katy's… Her last message," Jaune whispered. "She left it for me before…"

Yang's face was stony. She nodded.

"I get it," she murmured.

"... I promised I'd show Mia it," he said quietly, "That I'd watch it. So she could see her mom. But I…"

He clenched his fist around the disk.

Silence fell, hard and thick. Yang sucked in a breath, then she spoke.
"Jaune…" She paused, then continued, her voice far softer than usual. "You know, I remember my mom more than Ruby does. Dad and Qrow made damn sure of it. Videos, pictures, stupid stories about how Summer once punched a guy for calling her short… Ruby and I are just now reading her journal together. Hurts like hell every page, but…" She shrugged. "If I were Mia, I'd want to see it."

Jaune's throat worked. "…I can't watch it. I open the case and my hands shake and I just—" He bowed his head, fingers digging into his scalp. "Why can't I watch it?"

"Because losing her fucking sucked, that's why."

He let out a wet, startled snort. "Yeah…"

Yang nudged his knee with hers. "So… why don't we watch it with you?"

"Yang… I-I don't know—"

She huffed, half-laugh, half-growl. "You know I'm not stupid. I'm not some bimbo who only cares about hair and punching. We all wear masks, Jaune. You put on the big stoic leader face, swallow every tear, because you think if Mia or any of us sees you crack, the world ends. You want us to believe you've got it handled." She leaned in, lilac eyes fierce.

"Newsflash: your friends will forgive you if you're not handling it well. Hell, we'll forgive you if you never handle it perfectly. Because we're your friends. And if you can't trust us to hold you when you're weak, why the hell should we trust you to do the same for us?"

The room was dead quiet except for the faint hum of the lamp.

Jaune stared at her for a long second, something raw and exhausted flickering across his face.

"…You're a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?"

Yang flashed a small, crooked grin. "It's because I'm right."

He exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. "…That's the worst part."

She bumped his arm. "Tomorrow night. Everyone. We'll put Mia to bed early, and we'll watch it together. You don't have to be the strong one for once. Just show up."

"Okay," he whispered. "Tomorrow."

Yang grinned, soft and fierce. "Attaboy."

She stood, ruffled his hair like he was the kid, and headed for the door. Halfway out she paused.

"Hey, Jaune?"

"Yeah?"

"She'd be really proud of you. Both of you."

The door clicked shut behind her.

---

The common room lights were off, only the faint glow from the holoprojector painting everyone's faces soft blue. Weiss and Blake had taken Mia next door with the promise of cookies and cartoons. The rest of them sat in a quiet half-circle on the carpet: Ruby and Yang on either side of Jaune, Pyrrha behind him, Nora and Ren close enough to reach.

Jaune knelt in front of the projector, holodisk trembling between his fingers.

"…I appreciate this, guys," he said, voice cracking on every other word. "I don't… I don't know if I can do this alone. I just… I want to watch it with Mia… but only after I see it first, you… you know?"

"It's okay, Jaune," Ruby whispered. "Really."

"Yeah…" Yang added, soft.

Jaune stared at the projector for a long, silent minute.

Pyrrha leaned forward. "I can start it for you? Or—or we could do this another day, any day—"

"Jaune," Nora said, completely serious for once. "It's okay."

"Yes," Ren murmured. "It's your choice."

Jaune swallowed, nodded once, and raised the remote. His thumb hovered, shook. Pyrrha looked at him, and rested her hand over his. His shaking stopped. He slowly nodded, then pressed play.

The hologram blossomed open.

Katie sat propped against white hospital pillows, pale as paper, oxygen tube under her nose. But her smile was the same crooked, fearless grin Jaune remembered from barn dances and stolen nights under the stars.

"Hello Jaune. Hello Mia. I've made this recording for you… You know." She took a shallow breath. "Jaune… I can't imagine how hard this is for you. You always felt so much, took on so much. You keep blaming yourself for this… You shouldn't."

Her smile widened, tired but warm.

"The parting… is going to be hard. It's okay to be mad at me, to be sad. It's natural to feel this way. I know you will hurt a lot and won't know how to handle it. You'll try to carry on and be strong for Mia. I know you will… Just know that it's okay to open up to others. It will hurt. It will never stop hurting. But it won't destroy you… It will make you stronger. And you want to be strong, that's your dream, to protect everyone. Don't be afraid to pursue that dream, because I know you'll be great at it. Because you care so much. And don't close off your heart, please. I know how sweet and kind you are, so never lose that. Please."

She paused, gathering strength.

"I'm sorry I can't do more for you… But you made me the happiest I've ever been. We… we've made a baby. And she's wonderful. Even now I can feel her and I know she's going to be beautiful. And I'm only sorry that we didn't get more time together… That's the only regret I have. But I am so, so glad we met, and I am so glad we made her. And even happier that she will be healthy and happy."

Tears slid down her cheeks now, but she kept going.

"Mia… I am so sorry I won't get to be there with you. I'm sorry I won't get to read you bedtime stories or cook you dinner, or play with you. You'll be confused about it. Maybe even sad. And that's okay, because it's something to be sad about. Don't… don't hide your feelings, okay sweetie? Be honest and kind and straightforward. Listen to your father, he loves you and only wants the best for you. You and he might fight, especially when you get older… But he only ever wants you to be happy, and so do I."

She laughed once, a small, watery sound.

"The world can be a very dark and scary place sometimes. So dark and scary and terrible that you want to hide forever. But there's also so many wonderful and beautiful things in it. Love. Family. Friendship. These… these are the most valuable things in this world. Though it doesn't hurt to save your money and be careful with it." Another tiny laugh. "Your family will teach you, we're good at it. Be careful of bad boys: a lot of them might look flashy and cool, but it's the good guys who can be dangerous but know when not to be who are the best, just like your dad. You're going to have bumps and bruises and bad things will happen… But please, never stop being a good person. Don't let the darkness in this world remove the light, because that's what we're here for: to be the light when things are dark."

Her breathing was ragged now, but her eyes never left the camera.

"Finally… there are many kinds of battles. I… I couldn't take the medicine that would cure me, because it would hurt you. Don't ever, ever feel guilty about that, Mia. I fought this battle, and I'll win it. Even if this takes me… you will live, and that's a win because I love you. A mom is supposed to protect her child, and that's a battle worth fighting. If I had to go back and do it over again… I wouldn't change a thing. Not meeting and loving your dad, and not having you. Because I love you both so much. One day… one day, we will meet again. On white shores, in a green land without pain or suffering. We will all be together. But not for a long time. So, be a good girl, say your prayers, and be kind. I love you, Mia. I love you, Jaune."

The hologram winked out.

The room was silent except for quiet, stifled crying.

Jaune's head bowed, tears rolling off his chin onto the carpet. Ruby and Yang wrapped around him from both sides. Pyrrha's arms came around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. Nora wormed in and hugged his arm with all her strength. Ren laid a steady hand on the back of Jaune's neck.

Jaune's voice came out broken and small. "…Thanks, guys."

Ruby's answer was muffled against his sleeve. "…Any time…"

No one moved for a long, long while.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon cafeteria was supposed to be a safe zone. Food fights, yes. Nora stealing everyone's pancakes, absolutely. But full-scale romantic territorial warfare? That was new even for them.

Weiss Schnee sat ramrod straight, fork stabbing her salad like it had personally offended her lineage. "Honestly, why can't your families just leave you alone? Like mine! We—we have proper decorum! No random cousins popping out of the woodwork, no fox goddesses kidnapping proxies, no—"

Ruby, perched quite comfortably on Jaune's lap (because the benches were "too hard" and his thighs were apparently memory foam), tilted her head. "Weiss… are you all right? Do you need a hug?"

"NO!" Weiss snapped, cheeks pink. "I do not need a hug! And stop sitting on Jaune's lap!"

"But it's comfy!" Ruby chirped, wriggling for emphasis.

Jaune made a strangled noise. "Ummm…"

Yang leaned over, blonde mane cascading like a golden waterfall of smug. "He's my fiancé, Ruby!"

"Good sisters share!" Ruby sing-songed.

Blake's ears flattened dangerously. "He's my fiancé! Get your own blond disaster!"

"No!" Yang shot back.

Pyrrha, ever polite, still managed to radiate quiet menace. "He's my partner."

Ren, the only island of calm in this estrogen tsunami, sipped his tea. "Jaune, you need to make a command decision to resolve things."

Jaune looked like a man staring down a Death Stalker with a pool noodle. "I—I can only order Pyrrha around!"

Nora slammed her fists on the table, syrup flying. "Ruby! Accept a demotion so Jaune can order you to do stuff!"

Ruby's silver eyes lit up. "That might be fun!"

And then—

"AH! Such delicious, wonderful chaos!"

A flash of pure white light exploded in the middle of the cafeteria. Trays rattled. Milk cartons toppled. Students yelped and ducked.

When the spots cleared, a lanky man in a patchwork suit hovered three feet off the ground. Mismatched wings—one feathered, one bat—flapped lazily. A goatee curled with malevolent glee, and his eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could derail planets.

Jaune shot to his feet so fast Ruby nearly face-planted into mashed potatoes. He glared pure Arc fury. "Uncle Discord! You promised you wouldn't pop in at school!"

Discord clasped his hands to his chest, mock-wounded. "But it's a surprise! And this chaos—how could I resist? Oh, hey Nora!"

Nora waved enthusiastically, syrup still dripping from her fingers. "Hey Discord!"

Yang's jaw dropped. "Wait—you two know each other?!"

Nora and Discord answered in perfect unison: "No, we've never met in our lives! But it's more fun to pretend!" They dissolved into identical giggles. "JINX!"

Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to leave marks. "Look, we're really not in the mood—"

"MOOD?!" Discord floated upside-down, suit defying gravity. "Mood is for music and foreplay! Things you clearly need help with! How about a mind-bending game of wits—"

"No."

"An epic adventure across dimensions—"

"NO."

"A quick jaunt as Robin Hood and his merry band—"

"NO!"

Nora bounced in her seat. "But Jaaaaune! It would be so much fun!"

Jaune threw his hands up. "It'll have some stupid twist at the end, or he'll change the rules halfway through, or Aunt Fluttershy will make him knock that shit off! No!"

Discord pouted, actually pouted, lower lip trembling theatrically. "Awww… you're no fun anymore."

Jaune narrowed his eyes. "Did Aunt Fluttershy kick you out of the house again?"

"What?! HA! Please! We adore each other! We couldn't stand to be apart—"

"So that's a yes. Go bother Picard."

Discord shuddered. "But he's so boring now! All wine and Shakespeare and cheese—"

"Janeway."

"Bah! She's worse!"

"The Cerritos crew?"

Discord's eyes lit up like twin supernovas. "Hmmmm… lower-decks chaos? Now that could be delicious." He snapped his talons. "Toodles!"

Poof. Gone.

The cafeteria fell silent.

Weiss's fork clattered to her plate. "…Who… what…?!"

Jaune slumped back into his seat, Ruby automatically reclaiming her lap-perch. "He's my aunt's husband. He's… a bit much."

Nora grinned maniacally. "He's lots of fun!"

"I'm not in the mood," Jaune muttered.

Weiss looked like her entire worldview had been tilted ninety degrees. "But… I… you…!"

Pyrrha, curiosity overriding Nikos composure, leaned forward. "I… will admit I'm curious, Jaune."

Yang propped her chin on her fist. "Same! Spill, Vom—er, fiancé. What's his deal?"

Jaune sighed the sigh of a man who'd explained multiversal chaos spirits one too many times. "It's… complicated. Maybe we can do one of his weird adventures later—"

FLASH.

White light swallowed everything.

When it faded, the cafeteria was gone.

They stood on the bridge of a starship—sleek consoles, humming warp core visible through a viewscreen showing starlines. Everyone wore crisp Starfleet uniforms: Ruby in red command with lieutenant pips, Yang in gold engineering, Blake and Weiss in blue science, Pyrrha in security red, Ren in medical teal. Nora bounced in ops yellow. Jaune himself sported command red with captain's pips.

And lounging in the captain's chair—now wearing a sharp Starfleet red uniform, dark hair slicked back, goatee impeccable—was Discord. Except now he looked… disturbingly human. And smug.

"It's later somewhere!" he declared, spreading his arms. "LET'S GO!"

Jaune groaned so hard it echoed off the bulkheads. "Uncle Q! I knew it!"

Discord—Q—grinned wider, snapping his fingers. The viewscreen flared to life, showing a Borg cube dead ahead.

"Captain Arc," Q purred, "your ship is about to be assimilated. Your crew is arguing over who gets to sit in your lap. Your family tree is a tangled mess of gods, spirits, and interdimensional refugees. What. Are. Your. Orders?"

Ruby squealed, spinning in her chair. "SPACE! We're in SPACE! Captain Jaune!"

Yang cracked her knuckles. "If anyone's sitting in the captain's lap on the bridge, it's me."

Blake's ears twitched under her uniform cap. "No."

Weiss stared at the science console like it had insulted her bloodline. "This defies every law of physics I know."

Pyrrha's hand hovered near her phaser. "Jaune—Captain—what do we do?"

Nora slammed the ops panel. "PHOTON TORPEDOES! FULL SPREAD!"

Ren closed his eyes. "We're all going to die."

Q floated upside-down again, munching cosmic popcorn that hadn't existed a second ago. "Oh, this is going to be delicious."

Jaune dropped his face into his hands, even as he slumped into his captain's chair.

"Why is my life a crossover fanfic?" he mumbled.

Q leaned in, whispering loud enough for the whole bridge to hear: "Because chaos loves you, my boy. And so do an alarming number of women. Now—engage!"

- - -

Notes:
Naturally it's Discord/Q from "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic" and "Star Trek: The Next Generation"-Both played by the incredible John de Lancie. And given it's a reality bender, the canonicity of this is always suspect...

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Part of Arslan's training as a nun was to take confession at Beacon's chapel. Which she was starting to regret.



Ruby slipped in first, knees knocking together like a nervous filly.



"Bless me, Sister, for I have sinned," she whispered. "I… I stole an extra cookie from the jar. And I feel really guilty about it!"



Arslan blinked. "That's… it?"



Ruby's voice dropped lower. "Also I maybe have a lot of feelings for my team and Jaune and I don't know what to do with them and they keep bubbling up and—"



Arslan leaned forward. "Slow down, Rose. Cookies and crushes. Got it. Say three Hail Marys and share your snacks next time."



Ruby fled, red as her cloak.



Weiss was next—poised, composed, until she sat down and the words tumbled out like an avalanche.



"My father is controlling and cold and I've spent my life trying to earn approval I'll never get and I'm terrified I'll become him and also I have these feelings for my teammates and Jaune that I absolutely do not have time for—"



Arslan's eyebrow arched higher with every clause. "Schnee, I'm a nun, not a therapist. And definitely not equipped for… whatever that family tree looks like."



Weiss huffed. "Fine. I'll repress harder."



Yang sauntered in, all bravado until she knelt.



"I let Ruby eat an extra cookie," she muttered. "And I've got abandonment stuff from Mom leaving and Dad being… Dad. And I'm scared I'll push people away like she did. Also team feelings. And Jaune feelings. Big ones."



Arslan sighed. "Dragon Lady, you too? Extra cookies are a theme today."



Blake slipped in like a shadow, voice low and dramatic.



"Terrorism," she said flatly. "Degeneracy. Questionable life choices. Also I'm very clear on my feelings for blond idiots and my team, which is probably worse."



Arslan pinched her nose. "Belladonna, you're confessing to felonies. I'm contractually not allowed to report this, right?"



Blake considered. "Pretty sure."



Jaune wandered in next, looking lost.



"Uh… Sister Arslan? I think I'm supposed to confess being a himbo? I don't really know what I'm doing half the time. Also I feel bad about stuff. General stuff."



Arslan stared. "Arc. You're fine. Go forth and… himbo responsibly."



Nora burst in like a grenade.



"I talk too much and haven't kissed Ren yet and also I have this amazing pancake recipe with lightning Dust syrup—wanna hear it?!"



Arslan held up a hand. "Nora. Kiss Ren. Share recipe later."



Ren followed—sat in total silence for twenty minutes.



Arslan finally leaned in. "Ren. Kiss Nora."



Ren nodded solemnly and left.



Pyrrha entered last from JNPR, voice soft. "I hate my fame. I just want to be normal. Also I'm… very thirsty for Jaune and it's consuming my thoughts."



Arslan exhaled slowly. "Nikos. We all see it. Go get your man."



Then came Cardin—shuffling, awkward.



"I… have confused feelings about bunny girls. And I'm insecure. A lot."



Arslan barely suppressed a smirk. "Winchester. Work on that."



His team piled in after—Dove, Russel, Sky—grinning like hyenas.



"Sister Arslan!" Dove announced. "Forget sins—we've got a betting pool! Who ends up with who!"



Russel slapped a lien card down. "I've got fifty on Jaune becoming a harem protagonist."



Sky nodded. "Hundred on Cardin getting carried off by a rabbit Faunus upperclassman."



Cardin went scarlet. "Guys!"



Arslan considered the pool, then slid her own lien across.



"Double on both," she said calmly. "And throw in Nora finally kissing Ren before graduation."



The boys whooped.



Cardin buried his face in his hands. "Why is this my life?"



Arslan leaned back, smirking