[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

It happened during a joint training exercise in the old ruins outside Beacon. Well, that's what Weiss would call it.



Weiss had been poking around the collapsed ancient temple (purely for "historical research," she claimed) when she found it: a small, pyramid-shaped device pulsing with faint red light, half-buried under rubble. The moment she picked it up, she knew what it was.



A Sith Holocron.



Specifically, one that had once belonged to Darth Revan, if her grandmother's instruction meant anything.



Her first instinct was to destroy it. Her second was far more interesting.



She brought it straight to Pyrrha.



The two of them stood in an empty classroom, the Holocron sitting between them on a desk like forbidden fruit.



"Weiss," Pyrrha said slowly, eyes gleaming with dangerous curiosity, "do you realize what this is?"



Weiss smirked. "Of course I do. The secrets, the power..."



"It also means others have visited this world!" Pyrrha gasped. "More secrets exist on this world!"



"More importantly," Weiss emphasized, "our resident dense Jedi has no idea what a real Sith Holocron looks like."



Pyrrha's smile turned sharp. "You're suggesting we… rebrand it."



"Exactly." Weiss leaned in. "We tell him it's a lost Jedi Holocron. Something ancient and powerful. We let him open it. And then… we see what happens when he is exposed to the teachings of Darth Revan."



Pyrrha's eyes glowed faintly red for a moment. "He'll Fall. And when he does… he'll be mine."



Weiss's smile faltered for half a second. "…We'll discuss custody later."



- - -



That evening, Jaune was polishing his armor in the JNPR common room when Weiss and Pyrrha knocked on the door. They looked suspiciously friendly which immediately raised the alarm in his head.



"Jaune," Weiss said, holding up the disguised Holocron (now glowing a soft, innocent blue thanks to a quick Dust trick). "We found something extraordinary in the ruins today. A Jedi Holocron. It belonged to one of the ancient Masters."



Pyrrha nodded, voice soft and reverent. "We thought you should be the one to open it. After all… it might contain knowledge that can help you."



Uh huh, Jaune thought. Wow, he was becoming cynical fast. Still... He could sense the Force energy in it. It was authentic. Maybe... Maybe they were being genuine?



Jaune's eyes widened. "Really? That's… wow. Thank you both."



He took the Holocron carefully, like it was made of glass. The device hummed in his hands, recognizing the Force in him.



"Let's see," Jaune muttered, "My dad has one... How do I open it... Ah!"



He focused, and made the Holocron float over his hand. He twisted the corners with his telekinetic power.



With a soft click, it opened.



A holographic figure shimmered into existence: He stood tall and imposing, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. His face was completely concealed behind a sleek, angular helmet of dark durasteel. The helmet's design was both elegant and menacing, a fusion of Mandalorian craftsmanship and Sith iconography. A narrow, glowing crimson T-visor cut across the front like a predator's glare, while subtle red accents and engraved runes traced along the sides, giving the impression that the mask itself was alive with dark power.



Draped over his armored form was a long, flowing cloak of the deepest black, lined with blood-red silk that shimmered like fresh wounds when it caught the light. The cloak was heavy and dramatic, billowing around him with every movement as though the darkness itself obeyed his will. It framed his silhouette like a royal mantle, turning every step into something regal and terrifying.



Beneath the cloak, his armor was a masterwork of intimidation and practicality. Matte black durasteel plates, segmented and reinforced, hugged a lean but powerfully built frame. Red detailing ran along the edges of the chest plate, pauldrons, and gauntlets like veins of molten fury. The chest bore a subtle, stylized Sith insignia, while the broad, angular pauldrons gave him the unmistakable silhouette of a warlord who had conquered empires. The armor was clearly Mandalorian in influence, functional, battle-worn, and built for both war and command, yet refined with the dark elegance only a Sith Lord could command.



Darth Revan.



The girls leaned in, barely breathing.



The hologram spoke in a deep, amused voice:



"If you're watching this, then I'm probably dead. Which is annoying. But before I go, I wanted to leave something behind for the people I actually cared about."



"Bastila, if you're the one who found this... I love you. Your smile is more beautiful and dangerous than any lightsaber. Also, here are the recipes for those Mantellian dumplings you like. I finally got the spice ratios right. Don't tell the Jedi Council I was cooking in the temple kitchen again."



A second hologram flickered on — a detailed recipe for dumplings, complete with handwritten notes in the margins like "Add more garlic, she loves garlic" and "Bastila says these are better than the ones on Dantooine."



The room was silent.



Jaune blinked. "Wait… is this a cookbook?"



Weiss's eye twitched. "That's… that's it?"



Pyrrha stared at the hologram like it had personally betrayed her. "Revan… left a love letter and dumpling recipes?"



The hologram finished with one last message:



"Also, if you're some random Jedi who found this: Don't be a dick. The Force is about balance, not being an asshole. And tell Bastila I... Well, she'll know."



The Holocron powered down.



Jaune scratched his head. "That was… surprisingly wholesome?"



Weiss looked like she wanted to throw something. "We risked our lives dragging that thing out of a Sith temple and it's dumplings?!"



Pyrrha's smile had gone very, very strained. "I… may have miscalculated."



"Really?" Weiss demanded, "What was your first clue?!"



"It was your idea!" Pyrrha growled.



As they argued, Jaune sighed in exasperation. He really shouldn't drop his guard: He couldn't get lucky every time!



Well, at least those dumplings sounded good.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The late afternoon sun bathed Beacon's central courtyard in warm gold, but the real heat came from the portable grill Jaune had dragged out. A massive crate stamped with the Arc rainbow crescent sat open beside it, overflowing with Radian's finest: jars of honey and jam, fresh vegetables, condiments, bread, smoked meats, and-most importantly-an absolute mountain of thick, homemade sausages.

"Mom and the girls really went all out," Jaune muttered, flipping another link. Aqua had doodled little hearts on the wrapping. Verdy and Coral had slapped a tiny explosive sticker on one bundle: "Extra Bang for your Buck ". Lilac's handwritten note read: For my cute little brother and all his lovely friends~ Make sure everyone gets a big, juicy helping!

The savory smell of sizzling pork drew a crowd fast. Team RWBY had shown up first. JNPR followed two minutes later, Nora practically vibrating. And everyone sat down and had a hotdog or two.

Yang leaned against the stone bench, arms crossed under her chest. "Mmmm… Gotta say, VB… I love your big, fat, thick meat~ The way it's just bulging out of that casing? Perfection."

Ruby choked on her carrot stick. Blake turned a page in her book with a tiny smirk. Weiss's teacup rattled.

"Must you be so... So crass! Besides," Weiss added, cheeks flaming, "his gooey, salty product is mine!"

Dead silence. Jaune cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the grill.

Weiss glared. "Not. A. Word."

Blake's ears twitched. "Wouldn't dream of commenting on how thoroughly you've sampled his special sauce, Weiss."

Nora bounced in place, green eyes sparkling as she snatched a plate. "Ooooh, Jaune-Jaune! Look at these fat, juicy boys! I bet they explode with flavor the second you bite down! Can I have the thickest, longest one? I wanna pound it until it bursts everywhere!"

Ren, standing serenely beside her with his arms folded, calmly added, "Texture is important. I prefer it when it's been properly worked-slow and steady at first, then firm pressure so the juices really come out."

Blake had a nosebleed, which she tried to hastily cover up. So did Ruby, which she hid with less success.

Pyrrha, who had been politely examining a jar of Arc honey, went bright red. Still, she managed a soft, earnest smile. "They look… wonderfully firm. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on one and… stroking it gently over the heat until it's glistening and ready."

Jaune's tongs froze mid-flip. His face matched the Arc family tomatoes. He stared at Pyrrha in something akin to betrayal.

Yang barked a laugh. "Holy crap, P-Money! I didn't know you had it in you!"

Pyrrha coughed delicately into her fist. "I-I simply meant basting it properly. With oil. For even cooking!"

"Sure you did," Blake purred, golden eyes half-lidded as she watched a particularly plump sausage split open, juices dripping. "I like mine nice and wet. Extra slick. Slides right down."

Ruby bounced on her toes, plate thrust forward. "Gimme gimme! I want the biggest one! I bet I can fit the whole thing if I open wide enough!"

Weiss buried her face in her hands. Jaune would have done the same thing, but he was still cooking.

Nora was already chewing with exaggerated moans. "Mmmph-! So meaty! It's hitting the back of my throat and I'm still going for more! Jaune, your sausage is life-changing!"

Ren took a small, neat bite, expression unchanging. "Acceptable girth. Good snap when you bite in. Next time I can show you my technique for getting the perfect release of flavor."

Pyrrha accepted two glistening links from Jaune with trembling fingers. She took a dainty bite and immediately made a soft, mortified noise of pure bliss. "Oh… it's so… filling."

Yang grinned like a shark, slinging an arm around Jaune's shoulders. "See, VB? Even the invincible girl can't resist your big, fat, thick-"

"Yang!" Pyrrha squeaked.

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, utterly defeated. "There's honey-glazed, spicy, and smoked with Arc family herbs… and Lilac sent peach cobbler for dessert. With cream. Extra sticky."

Nora's eyes lit up. "Sticky is perfect! I love when it gets all over your fingers and you have to lick it off!"

"Ooh, me too!" Ruby chirped, "I bet it'll be sweet and gooey and it'll go all over my face!"

Yang grinned.

"Good one~!"

"Good what?" Ruby asked.

Blake's ears twitched. "We should send a thank-you card to the Arc family. Tell them their care packages are… deeply satisfying in every way."

Weiss took a tiny bite, then another, cheeks scarlet. "This never leaves the courtyard."

Pyrrha, still blushing furiously, gave Jaune a small, shy smile. "Thank you for sharing your… meat with us, Jaune. It's wonderful."

Ren nodded sagely. "Truly. The whole team appreciates how generously you provide."

Jaune just laughed, warm and helpless, and started loading up more plates while the innuendo storm swirled around him. Somewhere in Radian, he was certain his sisters were cackling.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The nightmare hit around 2:17 a.m.

Mia suddenly sat bolt upright in Jaune's bunk, a terrified scream tearing from her throat. Her little body shook violently as she sobbed, "The wolf! The wolf's got me-!"

Jaune was already moving, swinging his legs out of bed, but Pyrrha's hand shot out and caught his wrist.

"Jaune," she whispered, voice gentle but firm. "You need rest. You've barely slept all week. Let me take her."

He hesitated, eyes full of worry and exhaustion. Pyrrha gave him a small, reassuring smile and scooped Mia into her arms. The little girl immediately buried her face in Pyrrha's shoulder, still crying softly.

"I've got her," Pyrrha murmured. "Go back to sleep."

Jaune watched them go, jaw tight, before finally lying back down.

- - -

The RWBY dorm was still awake when Pyrrha gently knocked and slipped inside. All four girls were up - Ruby and Yang on one bed, Weiss and Blake on the other - clearly unable to sleep either.

Pyrrha explained quietly what had happened. Without a word, Yang got up and started making hot cocoa while Ruby fetched extra blankets.

A few minutes later, Mia was sitting in the middle of Yang's bed, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket and sipping warm cocoa from a mug that was almost too big for her hands. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but she had stopped crying.

Ruby sat beside her, stirring her own cocoa. "I… get nightmares too sometimes," she admitted quietly.

Mia looked up at her. "About what?"

Ruby hesitated, glancing at Yang.

Yang sighed and took over, voice unusually soft. "When we were really little… I took Ruby out in a wagon one night. I wanted to find our mom. We ended up in the woods and found this old shack. Grimm attacked us. Uncle Qrow showed up just in time, but… I've blamed myself ever since."

Ruby shook her head firmly. "You shouldn't, Yang. I never blamed you."

Mia stared at them both with big, serious eyes. Then she crawled across the bed and gave Yang a tight hug, then turned and hugged Ruby just as fiercely.

"Beowulves are super scary," she said solemnly.

Yang's voice cracked a little. "Yeah. They really are. That's why we got strong. So we can protect ourselves… and people like you."

Mia pulled back and smiled, tired but genuine. "You're all super great."

The girls all smiled at that.

Mia yawned hugely, then crawled back over and climbed into Yang's lap without asking. She rested her head against Yang's chest, clutching her shirt.

"…Mama…" she mumbled sleepily.

The room went completely silent.

Mia's breathing evened out within seconds, fast asleep and still clinging to Yang like a lifeline.

Yang stared down at the tiny girl in her arms, eyes wide.

Pyrrha reached out gently. "She was clearly asking for me."

Yang hissed back, careful not to raise her voice, "She was holding onto me!"

Ruby leaned in. "She could've meant me! I'm the one who brought her here!"

Weiss crossed her arms, whispering sharply, "We're going to wake her! Besides, I am clearly the closest thing she has to a proper surrogate mother!"

Blake snorted softly. "Please. I gave her new grandparents. That counts for something."

Yang glared at all of them, tightening her hold on Mia protectively. "She said 'Mama.' And she's sleeping on me. End of discussion."

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "She was calling for me before she even came here."

Weiss's voice rose a fraction. "I've read her bedtime stories twice this week!"

Ruby pouted. "I let her ride on my shoulders yesterday!"

Blake smirked. "I taught her about Faunus history. That's bonding."

The four of them (plus Pyrrha) began whispering furiously at each other, leaning in close over the sleeping child like a very intense, very quiet argument.

Mia slept on, completely oblivious, one tiny hand still fisted in Yang's shirt and a peaceful little smile on her face.

Yang eventually sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway as she gently stroked Mia's hair.

"…She's gonna be the death of all of us," she muttered.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The week without Jaune had been rough on Mia.

She'd been grumpy, clingy, and asked for "Papa" every few hours. The rest of RWBY and JNPR had stepped up without hesitation — park trips with Ruby, storytime with Blake, gentle combat training with Yang and Nora, quiet reading sessions with Pyrrha, and Weiss's very determined (if mostly unsuccessful) attempts at teaching proper table manners.

By Friday night, everyone was sprawled across the JNPR common room, exhausted but fond, while Mia sat grumpily in Yang's lap, kicking her legs.

The door finally slid open.

Jaune stepped inside: Dirty, sweaty, clothes torn in several places from a week of brutal training with his father... but there was a new, solid confidence in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were broader, his posture straighter… and a short, surprisingly well-kept blond beard covered his jaw.

Mia's ears shot straight up.

"PAPAAAAA!"

She launched herself out of Yang's lap like a rocket and sprinted across the room. Jaune dropped his bag and caught her with a tired but radiant laugh, scooping her up as she buried her face in his neck.

"Hey, kitten," he murmured, hugging her tight and kissing her hair. "Papa missed you so much."

He looked up at the group, grinning despite his exhaustion. "Thanks, guys. Seriously. I know she can be a handful. I'm doing all this training for her, so thank you so much."

Silence.

Dead, heavy, loaded silence.

Every single girl in the room was staring.

Jaune blinked.

"Uh... Guys?"

- - -

Yang's Fantasy

In her mind, the world had shifted to a sunny farmhouse bathed in golden light. She stood on the porch, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly, watching three rowdy blond children sparring in the yard while older Mia patiently corrected their stances.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Bearded Jaune pulled her gently against his chest, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"Missed you today, Firecracker," he murmured, voice low and rough with affection. His beard brushed against the side of her neck as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss there. "Four kids and you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Yang's breath hitched. She leaned back into him, a soft, dopey smile spreading across her face as his hands gently cradled her belly.

"Love you too, Stud," she whispered.

- - -

Weiss's Fantasy

Weiss stood at the grand gates of the Schnee manor, the afternoon sun glinting off the marble. Jaune walked beside her in a tailored black-and-gold security uniform, that glorious beard making him look devastatingly handsome.

The front doors burst open. Five children came running out, Mia proudly leading her youngest sibling by the hand.

"Mom! Dad! You're home!" they shouted in unison.

Jaune chuckled, the sound warm and deep, and slipped an arm around Weiss's waist.

"Long day at the office, princess?" he asked softly, beard brushing her temple as he kissed the side of her head.

Weiss leaned into him, cheeks flushed with quiet happiness. "Much better now."

No board meetings. No cold expectations. Just warmth, laughter, and family.
- - -

Pyrrha's Fantasy

A quiet Argusian manor house overlooked the glittering sea. Two children and Mia played on the beach below, their laughter carried on the wind. Pyrrha stood on the porch, heavily pregnant with their fourth, one hand resting on her rounded belly as she watched them.

Jaune came walking up the path from training, shirt slightly damp with sweat, that short blond beard catching the sunlight. When he reached her, he didn't say a word. He simply smiled that soft, loving smile that belonged only to her, pulled her gently into his arms, and kissed her like he'd been waiting all day for this exact moment.

"I'm home," he whispered against her lips, one hand cradling her belly with reverent care.

Pyrrha melted into him, heart full. "Welcome home, my love."

- - -

Blake's Mind

She was on her knees in a grand, dimly lit study, wrists bound in silk ropes. A powerful noble Huntsman Jaune loomed over her, that incredibly attractive beard making him look dangerously handsome. His gloved hand tilted her chin up.

"Still refusing to talk, little terrorist?" he asked, voice low and commanding.

Blake's breath came faster. Things were just starting to get very interesting when the door suddenly burst open.

"Mommy! Daddy! What are you doing?"

Six children (plus Mia) tumbled into the room.

Blake panicked instantly, breaking out of her bonds and standing with her husband. "J-just some psychological training, sweeties! Go play outside!"

- - -

Ruby's Mind

Ruby was in the workshop in her happy home with Jaune, covered head to toe in grease, her figure noticeably more developed. She was bent over Jaune's mechashift sword when the door opened.

Bearded Jaune walked in, eyes dark with heat.

"We're gonna do some naughty things now," he growled, voice low and rough.

Ruby squeaked, "B-but I'm all dirty, sweaty and-and covered in grease!"

Jaune smirked, stepping closer until she could feel the warmth of him. "Good. That makes it better."

He pulled her into a deep, hungry kiss, not caring about the grease at all as his hands slid into her hair...

- - -

Back in reality, Jaune blinked at the unnerving silence.

"Uh… Girls?" He repeated.

Nora finally broke it, pumping her fist with a huge grin. "Nice beard, Jaune!"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, self-conscious. "Oh… thanks. It's a little itchy though, so I'm probably gonna shave it off tonight-"

"NO!" came the unanimous, slightly panicked shout from Weiss, Ruby, Pyrrha, Yang, and Blake.

Jaune startled. "Ack! What?"

Mia reached up and rubbed his beard experimentally. "Hmmm… It's scratchy!"

Yang recovered first, flashing a bright grin. "We can get special shampoo for that! Make it all soft and nice!"

Weiss nodded quickly, trying to look dignified even while blushing. "Yes! High-quality beard oil. I know several excellent brands."

Pyrrha's voice was slightly higher than usual. "It… really suits you, Jaune."

Blake just stared, ears flicking. "Don't. Shave."

Ruby was still visibly flustered. "Y-yeah! Beards are… cool! Super cool!"

Jaune looked around at all of them, completely bewildered. "I… Okay?"

Ren, who had been quietly sipping tea the entire time, let out a long, suffering sigh.

Nora immediately turned to him with sparkling eyes. "Renny? Will you grow a beard?"

Ren paused, considering it seriously. "…I'll think about it."

Nora threw her arms up in victory. "YAY!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jacques Schnee needed a right hand man, a dragon, to serve him. To do the dirty work, like any corrupt billionaire. So I gave him one. Meet Fafnir Volsung, a Dragon Faunus who is a combat cyborg and loyal to Jacques. I wanted to give Jacques more depth, and provide a proper boss fight for the Atlas Arc that doesn't involve character assassinating General Ironwood.

And of course, to give a little more depth to the Schnee family. Especially on Weiss' birthday. What do you think?

- - -

The Schnee mansion's grand entrance hall felt cavernous that morning—marble floors echoing under Weiss's measured footsteps, the massive chandelier catching the pale Atlas light like frozen tears.

Weiss Schnee—seventeen, luggage minimal, Myrtenaster at her side—walked with chin high, refusing to look back. Her father had already delivered his parting lecture: disappointment wrapped in threats about allowances and expectations. She wouldn't give him—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing her waver.

Not after the scar she'd gained to prove her strength.

Fafnir Volsung, her father's ever-present Dragon Faunus enforcer and security chief, stood at the foot of the main staircase. He was a shadowed, seven foot tall monolith in his black suit, with short, spiky black hair and pale skin. His broad, cybernetic wings were folded neatly over his shoulders like a cloak by an actor in an opera-His deadly high frequency sword hanging from his belt. His fingers were cybernetic claws, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood like a gargoyle keeping watch. His grim, black, and angular cybernetic mask hid the ruin of his face, but not his sharp red eyes that tracked her descent.

Weiss intended to pass without a word. He was her father's creature—enforcer, guardian, whatever pretty title Jacques gave it. The dragon who'd stood silent while her family fractured.

She reached the bottom step.

Fafnir didn't move, but his voice—low, gravel over broken glass—stopped her cold.

"You're leaving."

Weiss paused, grip tightening on her case handle.

"I have a Bullhead to catch."

She started forward again.

Fafnir shifted—just enough to block her path without touching her.

"You were never suited to be a princess."

Weiss froze. Slowly, she turned, ice in her eyes as she glared defiantly into his masked face.

"Excuse me?"

He regarded her steadily.

"You have the grace. The etiquette. The poise drilled into you since you could walk. But your soul—" his cybernetic claws flexed once—"is a warrior's. Always has been. You're fooling yourself if you think you'll return here as the perfect heiress."

Weiss's breath caught. Anger flared first—how dare he—but beneath it, something else stirred. Recognition. He had been the one to train her in combat first after all, even when her father objected. The way he'd pushed her harder than any tutor, never praising, only demanding more, had been honest and sincere. Rare commodities in the Schnee household.

She lifted her chin higher.

"And you? Why do you stay? Serving him like some loyal hound. He treats you like a tool—kill switches in your implants, orders you'd never give a real friend. Why chain yourself to a man like that?"

Fafnir was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried old weight.

"I swore myself to him. Long before the Schnee name. Before the mansion and the masks." A faint, bitter edge crept in. "He saved this dragon when no one else would. I trusted him to lead, as my clan is long gone. However…"

He gave her a cool, calculating look.

"If he cannot recognize true strength when it stands in front of him—" his gaze flicked briefly toward the upper floors, where Jacques's study lay—"he will lose everything. That is nature's way. The strong overcome the weak. They become weak, complacent, and are overcome."

Weiss stared at him. The resentment was still there—years of seeing him as her father's shadow, the silent figure who'd enabled every cruelty. But beneath it, something shifted.

She swallowed.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The words tasted strange—gratitude for the monster who'd enabled her father's cruelties, and yet… The same man who had trained her and her sister. The one who'd seen what no one else had.

Fafnir inclined his head, stepping aside.

"Go, Weiss Schnee. Become what you were meant to be."

She walked past him without looking back, heels clicking across marble toward the waiting car.

But his words followed her all the way to Beacon.

Warrior.

Not princess.

And for the first time, she believed it.

- - -

Fafnir watched her go, double checking the security around the compound as the Bullhead headed off. Other agents would see to her transit to the airship port without him, keeping him apprised, but he had gone over the route and itinerary himself. He knew she would be safe.

Still, he watched her go, scanning the sky for threats. Even as he found his mind reflecting on her questions… And the answers he gave her.

It was all too clear in his mind. His memory was nearly perfect, even before the cybernetics.

The night he met his master.

Deep in the underbelly of Mantle, the air stank of rust, coal smoke, and desperation.

Fafnir—barely twenty, wings tattered from the raid that had burned his clan's village to ash—huddled in a shadowed alley off the old industrial district. Snow crusted his black hair; hunger gnawed deeper than the cold. He'd made it this far on rage and stolen scraps, but the streets were claiming him piece by piece.

That night, the brawl spilled out of a dive bar called the Iron Drake—miners, smugglers, Faunus and human alike trading fists over bad liquor and worse grudges. Fafnir, half-starved and looking for a fight to feel alive, threw himself into it. Instinct was instinct.

He was winning—claws raking, wings buffeting—until a blade found his ribs and another cracked across his skull.

He went down hard in the filthy snow, blood pooling warm beneath him. The crowd scattered as sirens wailed in the distance. No one lingered for a dying dragon.

Boots crunched closer. Fafnir barely had the strength to look up.

A young human—sharp-featured, black hair slicked back, clothes a little too fine for this district—crouched beside him. Jacques Gele, orphan turned street hustler, eyes cold and calculating even at fourteen years old.

"You're a big one," Jacques said, voice calm as he pressed a stolen handkerchief to the worst wound. "A Dragon Faunus. Rare. Useful."

Fafnir snarled weakly, trying to rise. "Piss off."

Jacques didn't flinch. "You're bleeding out. I can get you patched. Or you can die here like trash. Your choice."

Fafnir's vision blurred. He had nothing left—no clan, no home, no future.

He rasped, "Why?"

Jacques's smile was thin, sharp. "Because I need muscle. And you look like the kind that doesn't break easy."

He hauled Fafnir up—surprisingly strong for his build—and half-dragged him through the night. They went through the back alleys to a rundown clinic. It was run by a doctor who asked no questions for the right amount of lien.

Jacques paid. Stayed while they stitched the dragon back together. Brought broth when Fafnir couldn't hold a spoon.

Weeks later, when Fafnir could stand again, Jacques offered his hand.

"Partners. I've got brains. You've got claws. We take what we need from those who have too much. Together."

Fafnir stared at the outstretched hand—human, soft-skinned, unafraid.

He took it.

The years that followed were filled with blood and lien.

Jacques planned—heists on mobster warehouses, Dust shipments, and raids on rival crews. Fafnir executed them all. He used his wings for rooftop drops, his claws for silent kills, raw strength and the sword when subtlety failed.

He took bullets meant for Jacques. Lost an eye in a knife fight. Broke bones that Jacques paid to set.

Every time, Jacques dragged him back from the edge—clinics, black-market doctors, whatever it took.

"Why?" He asked.

"You're an investment," Jacques would say, smirking. But he never left Fafnir behind.

The worst came during a power play against a rival syndicate boss who'd muscled in on their Dust racket.

Assassins hit their safehouse at dawn, using high-caliber rounds and Dust grenades. Fafnir threw himself between Jacques and the breach, wings shredding as he carved through the attackers.

He killed them all.

But not before they carved him open—mouth and face slashed to ruin, arm mangled beyond saving, wings torn, and his spine fractured.

He collapsed over Jacques, blood bubbling from the gory smile they'd carved into his cheeks. His vision went dark, and he fell into oblivion.

He thought that was the end.

It wasn't.

Jacques—covered in Fafnir's blood—carried him out through the flames. Spent every lien they'd scraped together on experimental cybernetics from Atlas black-market surgeons who owed him favors.

When Fafnir woke, he was half machine—wings rebuilt stronger, his fingers replaced with steel claws, his face masked to hide the ruin.

Jacques sat beside the bed, exhausted but triumphant.

"Told you," he said. "Investment."

He used the attack—spun it as an attempt on a "legitimate businessman"—to destroy his rival. He planted evidence, bought witnesses. The arrests and headlines were made.

The scandal catapulted Jacques into Atlas high society.

Fafnir became his shadow: His chief enforcer and silent guardian.

He never forgot the debt.

The boy who saved a dying dragon in a Mantle alley had given him purpose. Life. Power.

Even when Jacques married into the Schnee name.

Even when he ordered things that turned Fafnir's stomach.

Even when the man shed the last pretense of the street kid who'd once shared stolen bread.

The debt remained.

Until the day it didn't.

But that day hadn't come yet.

Fafnir watched from the shadows as Jacques rose higher, red eyes unreadable.

He owed the man his life.

And debts like that—dragon debts—were paid in blood.

No matter who's blood it was.

One way or another, he'd get his pound of flesh.

He always did.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

VDF POST-BREACH REMEDIAL FIELD MANUAL
HOLDING GROUND AGAINST GRIMM
Obstacles, Fires Integration, and Huntsman Coordination
Classification: VDF SECRET // FOR GROUND COMMANDERS ONLY
Author: Colonel Tangerine "Tangy" Arc, VDF 1st Infantry Division / Salamander PMC
Purpose: Remedial education for all VDF ground commanders after the Breach. We got arrogant with drones and hard-light toys. Grimm do not care about your firmware. This is how you actually hold ground.


1. CORE PRINCIPLE

Grimm do not feel physical pain the way humans or Faunus do. They will tear through barbed wire, impale themselves on spikes, and keep coming if negative emotion pulls them forward.

Your job is not to hurt them.Your job is to control their maneuvering room, slow them down, funnel them into kill zones, and let massed fires do the killing.

All obstacles must be covered by fire. An obstacle without fire is just expensive scenery.


2. PASSIVE OBSTACLES (Always Present & Active)

A. Standard VDF Obstacles
Barbed Wire & Concertina Wire
Strengths: Cheap, fast to emplace, excellent at slowing and bunching packs. Triple concertina creates near-impassable belts.
Weaknesses: Larger Grimm (Death Stalkers, Goliaths) tear through it. Requires constant maintenance after weather.
Deployment: Outer apron (angled outward) + multiple parallel belts 10–20 m wide. Combine with ditches.

Ditches & Trenches
Strengths: Channels movement, creates vertical obstacles that force Grimm to slow or fall in. Can be flooded.
Weaknesses: Requires heavy effort. Can be filled by debris or crossed by very large or flying Grimm.
Deployment: V-shaped or stepped profiles, 2–3 m deep, 50–100 m in front of main fence lines. Multiple parallel lines.

Urban Jersey Barriers & Rubble Fields
Strengths: Instant in cities. Creates chokepoints and cover for your troops. Rubble fields add unpredictability.
Weaknesses: Can be climbed or pushed aside by very large Grimm.
Deployment: Staggered rows across streets and open areas.

Hedgehogs (Steel or Dust-Spiked)
Strengths: Impale or flip charging Grimm. Low profile, hard to remove.
Weaknesses: Ineffective against flying Grimm. Can be bypassed if not in depth.
Deployment: In open ground between wire belts.

Dragon's Teeth & Concrete Pyramids
Strengths: Stop or channel vehicle-sized Grimm. Extremely durable.
Weaknesses: Expensive and slow to emplace. Large Grimm can sometimes push them.
Deployment: Staggered rows in depth, 30–50 m wide belts.

B. Improvised Obstacles (Low-Resource Settlements or Units)
For villages and outposts without steel or concrete:
Abatis: Fallen trees with sharpened branches facing outward. Excellent entanglement.
Palisades: Vertical sharpened logs or planks. Quick to build, good against medium Grimm.
Trous de Loup (Wolf Pits): Conical pits with sharpened stakes at the bottom. Simple and deadly to anything that falls in.
Fraises: Horizontal sharpened stakes or branches angled outward from a central point.
Moats & Berms: Dug ditches with the spoil piled into defensive berms on the friendly side. Can be flooded.
Tangy's Note: "If you have trees and shovels, you have a defense. Stop waiting for supply drops and get to work!"


3. ACTIVE OBSTACLES

Automated Turrets
Dual-mode (kinetic + Dust). Linked to central network but with manual override.
Risks: Hackable. Requires power. Tangy insists on at least one human in the loop.

Sonic Barriers
High-pitched frequency emitters that cause discomfort or disorientation in Grimm (they hear like us).How to use: Place along wire belts and ditch lines.
Risks: Ineffective when strong negative emotions are present (fear, panic). Can be overwhelmed by a determined horde or Dragon. Best used in combination with calm leadership and visible Huntsman presence.

Tangy's Note: "They relied on these way too much at Mount Glenn and paid the price. Don't make the same mistake!"

Elemental Dust Barriers
Fire, Ice, Lightning, or Gravity Dust projectors creating temporary walls or damaging fields.
Strengths: High damage output.
Risks: Expensive, limited duration, requires resupply.

Hard-Light Dust Barriers
Atlas-style temporary walls or domes.
Tangy's Official Opinion: "Expensive, fragile, and a waste of lien when wire and sandbags work better 90 % of the time. Use only when you have no other option."

Wedge Barriers & Vehicle Arresting Systems
Heavy steel wedges or portable barriers that stop or redirect charging Grimm.
Deployment: At chokepoints and road entries.


4. DEPLOYMENT IN DEPTH (The Standard VDF Belt)
Layer your obstacles so the enemy is slowed, channeled, and exposed at every stage:
Outer Disruption Belt — Improvised or wire + hedgehogs (slow initial rush).
Channeling Ditch Line — Ditches + mines + sonic emitters (force them into predictable paths).
Main Entanglement Belt — Multiple concertina belts + Dragon's Teeth (bunch them up).
Kill Zone Preparation — Sandbagged strongpoints + pre-registered artillery.
Final Protective Line — Inner fence + turret revetments + Huntsman reserve positions.
Rule: Every obstacle belt must have at least one engagement area behind it. Which leads us to:


5. ALL OBSTACLES NEED COVER FROM FIRE

Weapon Placement & Engagement Zones

Handheld Weapons (Rifles, Shotguns, SMGs)
Primary close-range defense (0–200 m).
Used from sandbagged fighting positions or strongpoints.
Crew-Served Weapons (Machine Guns, Auto-Grenade Launchers)
Interlocking fields of fire along wire belts and ditch lines.
Final Protective Line (FPL) should be registered so gunners can fire on fixed lines in the dark.
Mortars (60 mm / 81 mm / 120 mm)
Primary area suppression.
Place in defilade behind the main line.
Register on all obstacle belts.
Artillery (155 mm Howitzers + MLRS)
Massed fires on engagement areas.
Pre-register every obstacle belt and suspected approach route.
Grenades & Shoulder-Fired Weapons
Anti-Grimm rockets for larger targets. Hand grenades for close defense of positions.
Developing Engagement Areas (EAs)
EA DEEP: 800–2000 m out — artillery and air strikes.
EA MIDDLE: 300–800 m — mortars + crew-served weapons on obstacle belts.
EA CLOSE: 0–300 m — machine guns, rifles, and Huntsmen on the final protective line.
Final Protective Line (FPL): The last line of obstacles. Everything behind it is friendly troops.
Danger Close Distances (VDF Standard)
155 mm artillery: 600 m
120 mm mortar: 400 m
81 mm mortar: 250 m
Crew-served machine guns: 100 m (with overhead cover)
Hand grenades: 35 m (friendly troops must be warned)
Calculation of RoundsAlways plan for sustained fire. A standard VDF defensive position should stock:
3 basic loads of small arms ammo per soldier
500+ rounds per machine gun
200+ mortar rounds per tube
Pre-planned artillery "packages" (e.g., 100 rounds on EA MIDDLE in 10 minutes)
Things to Watch For
Dead space behind obstacles (fill with mines or secondary positions).
Masking of fires by terrain or your own obstacles.
Over-concentration on one avenue (Grimm will find the weak point).
Friendly troops too close to the wire when the horde hits.

6. SUPPORT

Know what your support is, Air, Sea, Artillery. Know distance, ETA, capabilities, communications codes and methods. Maintain updates and call them in.

Tangy's Note: "Remember, your most powerful weapon is your radio. Call in air strikes, arty, whatever you need."

Logistics Note: All support is limited by Dust and ammunition stocks. Plan for 72-hour self-sufficiency minimum.

7. INTEGRATION WITH HUNTSMEN
Huntsmen are not regular infantry. They are high-value precision assets.
How to Integrate
Assign Huntsman teams to sectors as mobile reserves, Quick Reaction Forces, Recon in Force, or priority target hunters.
Use conventional troops to hold the line and fix the enemy.
Huntsmen exploit gaps created by obstacles and fires.
How to Preserve Them
Never use Huntsmen for static defense or routine patrolling when regular troops can do it.
Provide them with fallback positions and medical support.
Rotate them out of the line when Aura is low.
Aura Adept Plan of Action (AAPA): Every commander must maintain a living document on every Huntsman under their command containing:
Current Aura Level (estimated % and regeneration rate)
Combat Experience (hours in actual Grimm combat)
Semblance Type & Full Capabilities
Known Strengths
Known Weaknesses & Limitations
Preferred Role in Defensive Operations
Medical / Psychological Notes
Next of Kin / Emergency Contact
Tangy's Standing Order: "If you lose a Huntsman because you treated them like a regular soldier, I will personally write the letter to their family and then I will come for you."


Tangy's Closing Line (printed in bold on every copy):

"Obstacles slow them. Fires kill them. Huntsmen finish what the steel cannot. War crimes don't exist against Grimm. Now go hold the ground and fuck these bastards up!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Velvet Scarlatina marched up to Jaune in the deserted hallway outside the cafeteria like a woman on a mission from God. Her ears were pinned flat against her head in full battle mode, brown eyes blazing, cheeks already pink with a mix of fury and something suspiciously close to embarrassment.

Jaune, balancing a tray of suspiciously lumpy cafeteria mystery meat, offered a friendly wave.

"Oh, hey, Velvet! What's—"

"Why is he bullying you?!" she demanded, planting herself in his path and jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest hard enough to make him juggle the tray.

Jaune blinked rapidly. "Eh?! You mean Cardin? Look, it's not a big deal, he's just—"

"Why are you just taking it like some kind of spineless noodle?!"

"Well, I was going to—"

Velvet steamrolled right over him, voice climbing an octave. "He used to bully me, you know! He yanked my ears! Called me 'animal' like it was an insult! Do you have any idea how traumatic that is for a proud Faunus?!"

Jaune winced in genuine sympathy. "Yeah, that's awful, and totally not okay, but—"

Suddenly, Velvet threw her hands up, ears flopping dramatically with the motion, and unleashed the bombshell at full volume:

"I'M THE HOT BUNNY GIRL, OKAY?! HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE MY TSUNDERE HUSBAND WHO SECRETLY HAS A THING FOR EARS AND ACTS ALL GRUFF BUT BUYS ME CARROTS AND CALLS ME CUTE WHEN HE THINKS I'M NOT LISTENING!"

Jaune's brain blue-screened. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. The tray tilted dangerously; a glob of mystery meat plopped sadly onto his shoe.

"I… huh? Wait, tsundere—what?!"

Velvet leaned in, face now scarlet but undeterred, poking him repeatedly in the chest like she was hammering home a manifesto.

"Listen here, you—you absolute twink! Cardin Winchester is mine! I've got dibs! I've been cultivating this enemies-to-lovers arc since he got here! So you'd better grow a spine, stand up to him, and make him leave you alone—or I swear on every carrot in Remnant, I will break both your wrists! He's MINE, got it?!"

Jaune's hands shot up in frantic surrender, tray abandoned on a nearby windowsill. "I-I don't like him like that! At all! Zero interest! Negative interest!"

"GOT IT?!"

"GOT IT! CRYSTAL CLEAR! MESSAGE RECEIVED!"

"GOOD!"

Velvet spun on her heel with military precision, ears flicking once in triumphant satisfaction, and stormed off down the hall.

Jaune stood rooted to the spot, staring after her, face drained of color.

He looked down at the sad meat glob on his shoe.

Then up at the ceiling, as if pleading for answers.

"…Are all Huntresses completely insane," he whispered to the empty air, "or am I just cursed?"

- - -

A few weeks later, the Beacon courtyard was bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, students milling about between classes, the air filled with the usual chatter of missions, weapons, and weekend plans. Cardin Winchester stood near the fountain, shifting his weight awkwardly, his massive frame looking uncharacteristically small. He'd rehearsed this a dozen times in his head—thanks to Jaune's unexpected backbone and a few hard lessons in humility, he was finally doing the right thing.

Velvet Scarlatina hopped into view—literally, with a light bounce in her step—her ears perked up as she spotted him marching up to her. Her cheeks turned pink with anticipation.

Cardin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… Hey, listen, An—Velvet. I'm sorry about the ear tugging and the name calling. It was messed up. I promise I won't do it anymore."

Velvet froze mid-step, ears twitching like radar dishes picking up an incoming missile. Her big brown eyes went wide as saucers.

"Wh-What?!"

Cardin, mistaking her shock for lingering hurt, pressed on earnestly—because for once in his life, he was trying to be a decent human being.

"It was wrong, and I—"

"YOU'RE BREAKING UP WITH ME?!"

The courtyard went dead silent. A nearby first-year dropped his scroll. Dove Bronzewing, lingering with the rest of Team CRDL a safe distance away, choked on his water.

Cardin's jaw dropped. "Huh?!"

Velvet's face crumpled into tragic melodrama worthy of a Mistral soap opera. Her ears drooped like wilted flowers, hands clutching her chest as though he'd stabbed her with a rusty spoon.

"WHO IS SHE?!" she wailed, voice cracking into full theatrical soprano. "WHO'S THE WHORE WHO STOLE MY MAN?! Was it that redhead from Combat Class? Or the one with the hammer?! NO ONE CAN LOVE YOU LIKE I CAN, CARDIN! NO ONE UNDERSTANDS YOUR BROODING SOUL AND SECRET SOFT SIDE LIKE I DO!"

Cardin's face cycled through confusion, panic, and sheer existential dread. His team edged farther away, Russel muttering, "Nope, not getting involved in this one."

"B-Breaking up?!" Cardin stammered, hands up like he was warding off a Grimm. "We were never— I was just apologizing! For being a jerk! I don't even— There's no one else!"

Velvet wasn't listening. She'd gone full tragic heroine—tears welling, lower lip trembling, one ear flopping dramatically over her eye.

"You tugged my ears because you secretly liked them! You called me 'animal' because it was your cute nickname for me! We were supposed to have a enemies-to-lovers arc! Slow burn! Mutual pining! You were going to carry me bridal-style after I saved you from a Beowolf and then we'd share a passionate kiss in the rain!"

Cardin's brain short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed like a fish drowning in air.

"I… pulled your ears because I was an asshole?" he tried weakly.

Velvet gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. "Don't lie to me! You can't just throw away our future like this! We were going to have a spring wedding with carrot cake and everything!"

Sky Harris, watching from the sidelines, leaned over to Lark. "Ten lien says she challenges him to a duel for his heart."

Lark shook his head. "No bet."

Cardin, face now the color of a ripe tomato, backed up a step. "Velvet, I swear, I'm just trying to say sorry! No breaking up! No other girl! I'm not— We're not— There was never a—"

Velvet pointed a trembling finger at him, tears streaming freely now. "You'll regret this, Cardin Winchester! You'll come crawling back when you realize no one else will tolerate your terrible flirting and your weird obsession with maces!"

She spun on her heel—ears flopping with righteous fury—and stormed off, leaving a trail of bewildered students and one utterly shell-shocked Cardin standing in the fountain's spray.

Team CRDL finally approached their leader, who looked like he'd been hit by a Bullhead.

Dove patted his shoulder. "So… that went well?"

Cardin stared into the distance, voice hollow.

"I think I just got dumped by someone I never dated."

From a nearby bench, Coco Adel lowered her sunglasses, smirking at Velvet's dramatic exit.

"Girl's got commitment issues," she muttered to Fox. "Or commitment fantasies."

Cardin slumped against the fountain, soaking wet and existentially exhausted.

"Why is my life like this?"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

It was funny how men became friends. Ren and Sun, Jaune had befriended them fighting for their lives in desperate situations. Cardin? Cardin had been a prick, they'd fought, and now they were cool.

So now, the four of them were sitting on the roof of the JNPR dorm, legs dangling over the edge as the sun dipped low over Beacon. All of them drinking some soda sent from Jaune's family in Radian... As Professor Goodwitch had taken the booze sent with it.

Cardin took a swig from his bottle and leaned back on his hands. "So… who's everyone taking to the dance?"

Sun grinned, tail swishing lazily behind him. "Got Blake to say yes. Took some convincing, though. She kept muttering something about 'love triangles' and 'not wanting to make things complicated.' I just told her we'd keep it simple. She still looked like she was calculating escape routes the whole time... But it's a win!"

Cardin snorted. "Sounds about right."

Ren, who had been quietly watching the clouds, simply said, "Nora."

The other three turned to look at him.

"…That's it?" Sun asked.

Ren nodded once. "That's it."

Cardin shook his head with a small smirk. "Big surprise."

"And you, Cardin?" Sun prompted. Cardin coughed.

"Ah, well... I-I asked Velvet."

Ren raised an eyebrow. Cardin scowled.

"She said yes! I'm trying to make up for stuff and-and she really likes Sam! I mean, once she got past the toddler with Aura who loves bunnies!"

More staring, and a few smirks. Cardin turned bright red. Jaune snickered into his jacket.

"It's to make up for being a dick, okay?! I don't like her like that!"

Sun coughed something that suspiciously sounded like 'tsundere.'

"Oh screw you guys!" Cardin growled, as the others chuckled.

Of course, after this...All three of them then slowly turned their heads toward Jaune.

Jaune, who had been hoping to avoid this exact moment, scratched the back of his neck. "I'm probably just gonna take Mia."

The silence that followed was loud.

Cardin was the first to speak, his voice flat. "That's the coward's way out, Arc."

Sun nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man. That's rough."

Ren didn't say anything, but the look he gave Jaune said enough.

Jaune frowned. "It's not cowardice. It's practical. If I pick one of them, it's gonna cause problems. We've got our first real training missions coming up soon. The last thing I want is to split the teams because of some stupid dance drama."

Cardin raised an eyebrow. "So your solution is to hide behind your four-year-old daughter?"

Jaune's ears went pink. "I'm not hiding behind her-!"

"Yeah, you are," Sun cut in, surprisingly blunt. "Look, I get it. You've got a lot of girls who like you. That's a good problem to have. But using Mia as a shield so you don't have to choose? That's not fair to her either."

Ren finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You need to pick one. And then let the others deal with it. Avoiding the choice isn't going to make things easier. It's just going to drag it out."

Sun nodded. "Exactly. It's not the end of the world if you pick someone. The teams are tougher than that. And Mia's gonna get bored at a dance full of teenagers anyway. She shouldn't be used as an excuse."

Jaune stared down at his hands, jaw tight. He knew they were right. Deep down, he'd known it for a while. But the thought of choosing one girl and hurting the others - especially when they all meant so much to him and to Mia - made his stomach twist.

"…It's not that simple," he muttered.

Cardin shrugged. "It never is. But you still gotta pick."

Sun clapped a hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Look, we're not saying it's gonna be easy. But hiding behind your kid isn't the answer either."

Ren gave him a small, understanding nod. "You're a good father, Jaune. But you're also allowed to want something for yourself."

Jaune didn't have a comeback this time. He just sat there, staring out at the darkening sky, the weight of their words settling in.

He took a deep breath.

"All right... I'll make a choice."

"Good," Cardin nodded. "Because I swear if you become an actual harem protagonist, I will murder you. Leave some for the rest of us!"

"You already have Velvet," Sun deadpanned. Cardin went bright red.

"I-I DO NOT! IT'S-I'M JUST NOT BEING A DICK!"

"Sure Cardin," Ren deadpanned, as Jaune sighed in a little bit of relief. Picking on Cardin got the attention off him...

But the issue remained.

And he had a choice to make.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The hallways of Beacon were quieter than usual in the late afternoon, most students either in classes or training. Yang walked beside Mia, the little girl's tiny hand tucked in hers as they made their way back from daycare. Mia was humming softly, ears twitching every time they passed a particularly interesting poster.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Yang nearly tripped over her. "Whoa, kiddo. What's up?"

Mia pointed at a brightly colored flyer taped to the wall. "What's that?"

Yang followed her gaze and smiled. "Oh, that? It's for the Beacon Dance. It's coming up soon. Big party for all the students — and kids from the other schools too. Lots of music, dancing, snacks… basically an excuse to have fun and meet new people."

Mia tilted her head, ears flopping. "My mommy and daddy went to dances. Will you take Daddy to the dance?"

Yang's face instantly flushed bright red. "I- uh- I mean… I want to. Yeah."

Mia's eyes lit up like she'd just solved world peace. "You should! And then Auntie Pyrrha and Auntie Ruby and Auntie Weiss and Auntie Blake can all ask Daddy out too! Then we can all go together and have fun with Auntie Nora and Uncle Ren!"

Yang let out a strangled laugh, cheeks still burning. "Mia, sweetie… it doesn't really work like that."

Mia's ears drooped. She pouted up at Yang with the full force of a four-year-old's disappointment. "Why not?"

Yang opened her mouth… then closed it. "They… just don't?"

Mia's pout somehow got even more powerful. "But I want us to be a super happy family forever!"

Yang's heart did something complicated in her chest. She smiled softly, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Mia's head. "I know, kiddo. I know."

She straightened up and pushed open the door to the RWBY common room.

Inside, Ruby, Weiss, and Pyrrha were huddled around the table working on homework. Blake was curled up on the couch with a book. Nora and Ren were in the middle of an intense round of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots on the floor.

Mia took one look at the scene, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of her tiny lungs:

"EVERYBODY! Ask my Daddy out to the dance so we can all have fun!"

The room went dead silent. Pens stopped moving. Pages stopped turning. Robot heads froze mid-punch.

Mia turned her intense little stare toward the floor. "Except Uncle Ren! You ask out Aunt Nora! Now!"

Ren blinked. "Uh—"

Nora's eyes went wide with pure joy. She slammed both fists on the table hard enough to rattle the robots.

"YES!"

The rest of the room exploded into a mix of laughter, sputtering, and frantic whispering as Mia stood there with her hands on her hips, looking extremely pleased with herself.

Yang sighed and patted her head.

"You sure know how to make an entrance, kiddo."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

You know, before Katy Sith, I did think of a different ex-girlfriend for Jaune Arc. Based on this Medusa:


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jR0JeTrTc1c

Jaune: "So... Uh... This is my ex. Medusa."

Pyrrha: "Medusa?!"

Medusa: "Pyrrha!"

Glares. They hold up their weapons and get ready to fight

Jaune: "... I take it you two have met before?"

He says as he stands in the middle of the two women, both of whom look at him and then back at each other, narrowing their eyes.

Pyrrha: "Jaune, I need you to come to me."

Medusa: "No, don't listen to her Jaune, come this way."

Pyrrha: "Jaune, I'm asking you this as your partner, come over to this side."

Medusa: "Jaune, as one of your oldest friends, I'm telling you it's in your best interest to stand over here."

Pyrrha: "Jaune, if you value our partnership as well as friendship you'll stop listening to her, and stand by me."

Medusa: "Jaune, if you value our friendship, and out time together you'll ignore what she's telling you and come to me."

Jaune looks more conflicted than he ever has in entire life stuck between two impossible choices.

Jaune: 'What I wouldn't give for the universe to get me out of this situation!' He thinks to himself.

Yang: "Oh, there you are VB!"

Yang walks over to him, completely ignoring the looks of the two women brandishing weapons against one another, and picks Jaune up in a fireman carry.

Yang: "I'm going clubbing, but like hell am I going alone."

She smirks at him and pats his ass.

Yang: "Which means you're coming with me."

Jaune: "O-Okay..." He responds blushing up a storm for a number of reasons.

Two exit the room.

Pyrrha: "..."

Medusa: "..."

Pyrrha: "Truce?"

Medusa: "Truce."

Both Pyrrha and Medusa then sheath their weapons and run after Yang.

- - -

Medusa was a Snake Faunus girl who got her Aura and Semblance unlocked early: The ability to turn people into stone with a look. Alas, it doesn't work on Grimm. She was taken to Radian to be examined and helped by Isabel, and befriended Jaune as a child. She then went back to the Hellenic Confederation and became a great tournament fighter, having a rivalry with Pyrrha. But she always wanted to go see Jaune again, and so, after finally becoming champion of the Regional Tournaments and games she goes to see Jaune at Beacon.

Mainly it's because I did like Hercules (1998) and the animated series, especially his relationship with Medusa.

Written with help from @RedDragonEmpress

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Dance



- - -



Whitley Schnee had not planned on attending the Beacon Dance.



He had come to Vale for a short, quiet diplomatic meeting. He'd ended up befriending one of his sister's friends, who had helped him procure a gun and a few other things. So far, so good. He had visited Beacon, intent on practicing his shooting with her.



Instead, he found himself being physically dragged across campus by an extremely determined Ruby Rose, who had spotted him in the courtyard and declared, "You're coming with me!" before he could protest.



Now here he was, dressed in a sharp black suit with silver accents, standing awkwardly near the punch bowl while the music pulsed and students danced around him. Ruby, in a striking red-and-black dress that somehow still looked like it could double as combat gear, beamed up at him.



"Isn't this great?!" she shouted over the music, bouncing on her toes. "You look really nice, by the way!"



Whitley adjusted his cufflinks, trying to hide his discomfort. "This is… certainly an experience. I don't usually attend school dances."



The dirty looks he was getting from Faunus students and his sister certainly didn't help.



Ruby grabbed his hand. "Then tonight's your first! Come on, let's dance!"



Before he could argue, she pulled him onto the floor. Ruby danced like she fought — with wild enthusiasm and zero regard for proper form. Whitley, who had been trained in classical ballroom since he could walk, found himself completely outmatched. He ended up laughing despite himself as Ruby spun him around like a top.



For a few blissful songs, it was just fun. No politics. No pressure. Just Ruby's bright laughter and the warmth of her hand in his.



They took refuge near the punchbowl, panting. Ruby's cheeks were flushed. She then turned.



"Oops! Gotta go to the lady's room! Be right back!"



She dashed off, leaving the young Schnee to watch after her.



"Having fun, huh?"



He started and looked back. Jaune Arc, Ruby's friend, smiled at him. Whitley managed a quick nod.



"Yes... She's uh... she's something else."



"She sure is," Jaune said with a knowing and intense look. A look that promised death and pain. Whitley gulped.



"Ah... I mean... She's very dear to me and I'm not about to-"



"What?" Jaune asked. He blinked. "Ohhh... Was I making the 'Big Brother' look? Sorry... It's kind of instinctual now. Guess it's how I see Ruby... As a little sister." He stared at Whitley, hard.



Whitley coughed.



"I uh... I promise I have no ill intentions-"



"I know," Jaune said, "Just keep it that way, huh? I'm the nice one. Yang's not as forgiving." He smiled and leaned forward, staring into Whitley's eyes. "I'd just commit quick, brutal violence if you did anything to hurt Ruby. Her? She'd make it last."



Whitley stared back into Jaune's eyes, his heart thumping. He slowly nodded.



"Point taken."



"There you are!" Ruby cried, beaming as she bounced over. "Come on, let's get some fresh air together. The view from the upper walkway is really pretty!"



Before he could politely decline, she had grabbed his hand and was leading him along the moonlit paths. Whitley allowed himself to be pulled along, secretly grateful for the escape. And the skyline was beautiful in the broken moonlight. He could admit this.



They had only been walking along the upper walkway for a few minutes when Ruby suddenly froze. Whitley frowned and turned to her.



"What?"



Ruby pointed down.



"Do you see that?"



Whitley followed her finger. He narrowed his eyes.



A dark figure in a hooded cloak was moving swiftly across the rooftops, heading straight for the CCT tower.



"That's not a student," Ruby muttered, silver eyes narrowing. "Come on, Whitley! We have to check it out!"



"We do?" Whitley asked. "Shouldn't we call security or-Ruby, wait-!"



Too late. She exploded into rose petals, dragging him along in a whirlwind of motion. They landed on a rooftop near the CCT tower just as the intruder slipped inside through a maintenance entrance.



Ruby unfolded Crescent Rose with a determined grin. "Alright, mysterious hooded person! Time to see what you're up to!"



Whitley adjusted his suit jacket, feeling very out of place in his dress shoes. "Perhaps we should call for backup—"



But Ruby was already moving. He sighed and followed.


- - -


They entered the CCT control room just as the intruder reached the main console, fingers flying across the holographic interface.



Ruby leveled her scythe. "Hey! You're the same jerkface as before! Surrender or face justice!"



Whitley stepped forward, trying to sound diplomatic. "Excuse me, this is a restricted area. Maybe we could discuss this peacefully before-!"



The intruder spun around. A gloved hand flicked outward, and a roaring fireball hurtled straight toward them.



Whitley reacted on pure instinct. He thrust his hand forward, a brilliant white Glyph flaring into existence. The fireball slammed into the shield and burst apart harmlessly-Though he felt his Aura take a huge hit.



Okay... Good to know...



Ruby didn't hesitate. She launched forward in a storm of rose petals, Crescent Rose spinning wildly.



Whitley drew the compact pistol Ruby had insisted he buy and opened fire: Controlled, precise shots that forced the intruder to dodge and weave as he ran to cover.



The fight was fast and brutal. Ruby's whirlwind strikes kept the hooded figure on the defensive while Whitley provided covering fire from behind a console. Between the two of them, they drove the intruder back. With a frustrated snarl, the figure unleashed a final burst of flames as a smokescreen and vanished through a shattered window.



Ruby stood panting in the center of the room, scythe still spinning down. Then she turned to Whitley, eyes sparkling with adrenaline and joy.



"You were incredible!" she cried, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "That Glyph thing was so cool! And your shooting — you actually hit them!"



Whitley, still catching his breath and covered in a light layer of dust, hugged her back without thinking. "I… thank you. I was mostly just trying not to die."



Ruby pulled back just enough to look at him — cheeks flushed, silver eyes bright — and then, on pure impulse, rose up on her toes and kissed him.



It was quick. Soft. Over before either of them could process it.



She jerked back, face turning bright crimson.



"I— I'm sorry! I didn't mean— I just got excited and you were really cool and I—"



Whitley stared at her, heart hammering in his chest.



Then, very quietly, he muttered:



"Don't be."



Ruby blinked, still flushed. "Huh?"



Whitley looked away, ears pink. "I… didn't mind."



The silence between them stretched for a heartbeat.



Then Ruby smiled — small, shy, and genuinely happy.



"…Okay. Cool."



She took his hand again, squeezing it. He squeezed back.



"Come on. We should tell the professors what happened."



"Yes, we should..."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

@CountvonBarnOwl

Cosmetics

- - -

It started with a new shade of lip gloss.

Ruby had been spending more time in front of the mirror lately. Not for vanity - though she'd never admit it - but because she wanted to look… nice.

For someone specific.

Whitley noticed immediately when she met him in Vale for their usual weekend outing. Her lips had a soft rose tint, and her eyes looked a little brighter thanks to a touch of mascara. She kept fidgeting with her cloak, clearly self-conscious.

"You're staring," she said, poking his arm as they walked along the quiet street.

"You look different," Whitley replied, honest as always. "In a good way. The color suits you."

Ruby's cheeks turned pink, but she grinned. "Yeah? I've been trying some stuff out. Yang said I should experiment more now that we're… you know. Dating."

She tugged at a strand of her short, choppy hair, suddenly looking uncertain.

"I've also been thinking about my hair," she admitted. "I used to have it longer when I was younger. But then I cut it because it kept getting in the way during fights. Now I'm wondering if I should grow it out again… or keep it short and neat like this."

Whitley tilted his head, studying her with that quiet, thoughtful expression she'd grown so fond of.

"Would you like my honest opinion?"

Ruby nodded quickly. "Yes, please."

He reached out and gently brushed a stray lock behind her ear, his touch lingering for just a moment.

"You'd look beautiful either way, Ruby."

She blushed deeply, caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.

"Really? You don't think I'd look better with longer hair? Or… sleeker?"

Whitley shook his head, a small, warm smile tugging at his lips.

"I like your hair the way it is now. It suits you. But if you grew it out, I think you'd look elegant and strong." He shrugged lightly. "Either way, you'll still be you. And I happen to like you very much."

Ruby's face went from pink to full tomato in record time. She hid it by burying her face against his chest, muffling a happy little squeak.

"You can't just say things like that!" she protested, voice muffled by his coat. "It's not fair! My heart's not ready!"

Whitley chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her in that careful, protective way of his.

"I'll try to warn you next time."

They stood like that for a long moment, Ruby's arms eventually sliding around his waist as she hugged him back.

"…Thank you," she whispered. "For not making fun of me for caring about this stuff."

"I would never," he said quietly. "You're allowed to want to look nice. And you're allowed to change your mind as many times as you want. I'll be here for all of it."

Ruby pulled back just enough to look up at him, silver eyes sparkling.

"Even if I go full dramatic long hair with a bunch of clips and ribbons?"

"Even then." He smirked. "Though I'd tease you about it."

"Jerk!" She grinned, bright and full of mischief again.

"Well, good. Because I'm thinking about trying a ponytail next week. With a little red bow. Think you can handle that level of cuteness?"

Whitley pretended to think about it very seriously.

"I'll do my best to survive."

Ruby laughed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"You're the best, Whitley."

And as they continued their walk, hand in hand, Whitley couldn't help but think that maybe — just maybe — he was the lucky one in this relationship.

Because no matter how Ruby chose to look, she would always be the brightest part of his day.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon training arena had been cleared for "sparring practice," but everyone knew what this really was.

Yang Xiao Long cracked her knuckles, hair already flickering with ember sparks, eyes locked on Jaune like he was a particularly stubborn heavy bag. Jaune stood opposite her, Crocea Mors drawn, shield up, calm and focused—the picture of disciplined readiness.

Blake leaned against the wall with a stack of philosophy texts, ready to feed Yang lines. Pyrrha watched from the sidelines with that too-bright smile. Weiss sat with perfect posture, pretending to read but sneaking glances. Nora was cross-legged on the floor with Ruby, eating cookies and watching eagerly. Ren sipped tea, serene as ever.

Yang grinned, bouncing on her toes. "Alright, VB. You wanted a debate fight? Let's go. Rousheau says man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains! Society corrupts us—true strength is breaking those chains!"

She launched forward, a fiery right hook aimed at his shield.

Jaune blocked smoothly, voice steady even as the impact rang out. "Saint Augustin of Hippo would disagree. We are born in sin—original corruption. True freedom comes not from breaking chains, but from submitting to divine order and grace."

He countered with a precise shield bash that forced Yang back a step.

Yang growled, hair flaring brighter. "Blake—hit me!"

Blake called out, "Nietzsche! The will to power! God is dead, and we create our own meaning through strength!"

Yang roared, unleashing a flurry of explosive punches. "Exactly! We don't need some cosmic lion telling us what's right—we make our own rules! Übermensch, baby!"

Jaune parried and riposted, sword flashing. "Thomas Aquin would say natural law is written into creation itself. Reason leads us to the divine. Denying that is denying truth!"

Yang ducked under a slash, came up inside his guard, and drove a knee toward his gut. Jaune twisted, taking it on the thigh plate.

"You're so damn calm!" Yang snarled, face flushed—anger and something else mixing. "How do you just—argh!"

"Clive Staples of the Lion's Ward," Jaune continued, oblivious, pressing his attack with measured strikes, "argued that desire for joy points to something beyond this world. Aslanism isn't chains—it's fulfillment!"

Yang blocked a shield bash with her gauntlets, sparks flying everywhere. "That's just coping! We don't need fulfillment from some fairy tale—we take what we want! We burn bright and—damn it, Jaune, stop being so reasonable!"

She was breathing hard now, hair fully ignited, eyes wild.

Blake was frantically flipping pages, muttering "Um—will to power—overman—something—"

Pyrrha's grip on Milo tightened until the metal creaked.

Weiss's book was forgotten in her lap, cheeks pink.

Nora looked up from her cookies. "In Nora belief, the ultimate truth is smashing things really hard until they stop being problems!"

"Ooh, I like that!" Ruby grinned.

Ren sipped his tea. "The Middle Way suggests neither extreme assertion nor denial, but balance."

Yang wasn't listening anymore.

Jaune had just finished another perfectly calm counterpoint: "Grace perfects nature, it doesn't destroy it-!"

Which is when Yang snapped.

She lunged, not with a punch, but with both hands grabbing his breastplate, yanking him forward, and kissing him hard enough to rattle his teeth.

The arena went dead silent.

Jaune's eyes went wide. His sword and shield clattered to the ground.

Yang pulled back an inch, breathing fire—literal and figurative. "There. Shut up for five seconds."

Jaune stared, mouth open, brain completely offline.

Pyrrha's aura flared so violently the air shimmered. Her smile could have frozen hell.

Weiss made a strangled noise, book snapping shut. "I-that is completely-uncouth-seriously?!!"

Blake's ears were flat, face a confusing mix of frustration and something that looked suspiciously like jealousy. "I... provided excellent philosophical support..."

Nora slammed her book shut. "Smashing is still better!"

"Oh wow," Ruby mumbled, bright red but refusing to look away, her face a confusing cacophony of emotions.

Ren set his tea down gently. "Desire is the root of suffering."

Yang pulled back, hair settling back to gold, cheeks blazing brighter than her semblance.

"...So. Uh. Rematch tomorrow?"

Jaune, still stunned, managed a dazed nod.

The debate was over.

The war for Jaune Arc's attention?

Just heating up.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Charity

The new Schnee Manor was alive with soft lighting, crystal chandeliers, and the quiet murmur of Atlas's elite. The event was a charity gala raising funds for those still displaced and struggling in the long shadow of the Salem War.

Ruby Schnee walked in. She had just returned from a quick Grimm hunt near the SDC mines with Weiss and Jaune. Her combat skirt was still slightly dusty, her cloak a little rumpled, but her silver eyes lit up the moment she spotted her husband across the room.

And then she saw her.

A tall, overly made-up woman in a slinky crimson dress was practically draped over Whitley's arm, laughing far too loudly at something he hadn't said. One of her manicured hands rested possessively on his chest as she leaned in close, clearly trying her luck with the richest, most eligible war hero on the planet.

Whitley's expression was the picture of strained politeness. He was scanning for an escape that wouldn't cause a scene, because of course he was.

He had been raised to always consider optics, especially at events like this.

Ruby, on the other hand, hadn't.

She crossed the ballroom with purposeful strides, Weiss and Jaune trailing behind her with matching amused expressions.

Without a word, Ruby slid between Whitley and the woman, wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, and kissed him soundly: Deep, warm, and unmistakably possessive.

Whitley made a surprised sound before melting into it, one hand settling on her waist (where it belonged).

When Ruby finally pulled back, she kept one arm looped around his neck and turned toward the woman with a sweet, menacing smile that could have frozen Vacuo in summer.

"Husband?" she asked, voice dripping with faux politeness. "Who is this girl?"

The woman in red froze, her hand still hovering awkwardly in the air where Whitley's arm had been.

Whitley, cheeks slightly flushed but visibly relieved, wrapped his arm more securely around Ruby's waist.

"Ruby, this is Miss Liora Veyne. She was just… expressing interest in the charity." He looked down at his wife with open affection. "Miss Veyne, this is my wife, Ruby Schnee."

Ruby's smile sharpened, silver eyes glinting like polished blades.

"Oh? How lovely. Thank you so much for supporting the cause. We really appreciate people who are generous... And know how to keep their hands to themselves when it comes to other women's husbands."

The woman stammered something about refreshments and quickly retreated into the crowd, tail between her legs. The conversation became a bit louder, as though everyone was trying to move on from the incident.

Whitley let out a quiet breath and looked down at Ruby with a mix of pride and amusement.

"You handled that remarkably well," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "No murder. No property damage. A proper Schnee indeed."

Ruby grinned up at him, still holding onto him tightly. "I'm learning. But if she touches you again, I will Crescent Rose her into next week."

Whitley chuckled softly. "I have no doubt."

Weiss, who had been watching from a few feet away with Jaune, rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk.

"Congratulations, brother. You've successfully trained the most dangerous woman on Remnant to be passive-aggressive instead of homicidal."

Ruby stuck her tongue out at her sister-in-law.

Jaune just laughed. "I think Ruby domesticated him, actually."

Whitley looked down at his wife, still in her slightly dusty combat gear, silver eyes sparkling with mischief and love, and felt a warmth in his chest that no amount of wealth or status could ever replicate.

He kissed her again, slower this time, right there in the middle of the charity gala, uncaring of who was watching.

"Let them stare," he whispered against her lips. "I'd rather have you than their approval any day."

Ruby's smile was bright enough to light up the entire room.

And for the rest of the evening, no one dared approach Whitley Schnee without first acknowledging the terrifyingly happy woman on his arm.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Cowboys of Remnant - Chapter 42 - AndrewJTalon - RWBY [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

archiveofourown.org

Jaune meets an old rival: And Pyrrha might pay the price.

- - -

The frontier town smelled of dust and cattle. JNPR had been tracking bandit activity for days when the stranger stepped out from behind a water tower, hands in his coat pockets, pink scarf fluttering like a taunt.

The man tipped his black hat. "Well, well. That any way to greet an old friend, Jaune?"

Jaune's hand was on Crocea Mors before the sentence finished. "State your business, Floyd."

Floyd's smile was all teeth. "Right to the point as always." He tipped his hat to the others. "Ladies. Sir. Pleasure."

Nora bounced forward. "Who's this guy, Fearless Leader?"

Floyd grinned. "Old cattle-drive buddies. Until Jaune decided to play hero."

Jaune's voice was flat iron. "Until you sold us out for an armored gold transport."

"It was written off! Lost! Ours for the taking. I would've split it fair—"

"That why you shot Bob and Nash in the back while their guns were still holstered?"

Floyd's smile twitched. "They wanted more than their share. Drew first."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "Funny. Their pieces were still snapped in when we found the bodies."

Floyd shrugged. "I would've shared with you, Jaune. Even Old Man Rooster. But you had to be high and mighty."

"If you want revenge, take it on me," Jaune said. "Leave my team out of it."

Pyrrha stepped forward. "Jaune, no—"

Floyd's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I intend to. But first… some fun."

A tiny pink fairy no bigger than a firefly shot from his pupil, zipped across twenty yards, and dove straight into Pyrrha's ear.

Pyrrha's body locked rigid. Milo snapped into rifle mode and pressed under her own chin.

"PYRRHA!" Jaune roared.

She fought it, veins bulging. "I—I can't stop—!"

Three weapons trained on Floyd in an instant.

Floyd cackled. "Finally perfected my Semblance. Little thing called Lover's Fairies. Range is miles. Gets in the brain. I can make her pull the trigger… or just scramble the eggs and leave her smiling and drooling."

He made Pyrrha cock the rifle.

Jaune's voice cracked. "What do you want?!"

"I want you to suffer, Jaune Arc. And this?" He gestured at Pyrrha. "This is leverage."

He forced Pyrrha to grab Jaune by the collar and kiss him hard. Both went wide-eyed. Floyd howled with laughter.

"Figured you two do that all the time anyway. She looks like a slut."

Ren physically hauled Nora back before Magnhild could turn Floyd into modern art.

Floyd wiped a tear. "Here's how this works, Jaune. You do whatever I say, whenever I say it. Or the Invincible Girl paints the street with her brains. Deal?"

Jaune's voice dropped to a whisper. "Ren. Nora. Find a way to fix this. I'll buy time."

Ren's eyes were steel. "We will."

Pyrrha's voice shook. "I'll hold on."

Nora growled, but nodded.

Jaune faced Floyd. "Fine. You've got your hostage. Let's get this over with."

Floyd's grin was pure poison. "Excellent."

What followed was three hours of living hell.

Floyd made Jaune lie face-down in the street while he used Jaune's back as a footrest, sipping whiskey and telling the gathering crowd exactly how Jaune had "betrayed" him.

Next, Floyd whistled up three drunk ranch hands who still nursed a grudge from the old cattle-drive days. "Five hundred lien and you can beat him all you like! He'll keep his Aura down just for you!"

They took turns. Fists, elbows, a knee to the ribs that cracked something. Jaune coughed blood into the dust and didn't make a sound. Pyrrha's knuckles went white on Milo, tears of pure rage in her eyes, but the rifle never left her skin.

He forced Jaune to walk into the general store, stuff his pockets with candy and liquor, and walk out without paying while the shopkeeper watched in horror.

Then came the public apology. Floyd dragged Jaune to the center of town, forced him to his knees, and made him recite:

"I, Jaune Arc, am a thief, a liar, and a coward. I betrayed my friends and deserve everything I get."

Every word tasted like rust, but Jaune said them loud and clear while Floyd's fairy kept Pyrrha's rifle pressed to her own temple.

Floyd even made him dance—actually dance—a clumsy, stumbling jig in the middle of the street while the bandit clapped and laughed until he wheezed.

Through all of it, Jaune's eyes never left Pyrrha's. A silent promise in every bruise, every drop of blood: We'll get through this.

Ren and Nora worked in the shadows the whole time. Ren's Aura senses were very keen. He studied every bit of the Aura link of the Semblance, every time Floyd made Pyrrha do something. Nora was grim, chomping at the bit, but she let Ren work on it. She stayed silent.

Every time Jaune hesitated, Floyd twitched a finger and Pyrrha's rifle barrel dug deeper into her own chin.

But Ren and Nora kept working. They waited… Waited for just the right moment. Jaune spotted them as they hid behind a small wagon near Pyrrha.

"Hey, Jauney-Boy!" Floyd giggled. He tossed a Dust Grenade up and down in his hand. "You got a choice: You take the grenade blast… Or your slut does. What'll it be?"

Jaune grit his teeth as Pyrrha's eyes widened in horror.

"Jaune, no-!"

"Don't make a sound, Pyrrha," he stated angrily. "Not a damn word!"

She glanced at him, followed his eyes… And slowly nodded.

He took a deep breath and glared at Floyd.

"Fine," Jaune grunted. He walked away from it, keeping Floyd's eyes on him. He held his arms out. "Go right ahead."

Floyd grinned, tugging the pin and tossing the grenade at Jaune. A large explosion went off, blowing Jaune off his feet and slamming him into the dirt. The force of the blast knocked the wagon over, as Floyd cackled.

Pyrrha grit her teeth, tried not to cry out as she threw herself behind the overturned wagon. She looked up into Ren's eyes.

The green glad ninja pressed both palms to Pyrrha's temples, his Semblance pouring calm like ice water over her emotions, dulling her Aura just enough to interfere with Floyd's connection to his Semblance.

Nora's grenade produced a single, low-yield lightning round. She jammed the barrel against Pyrrha's ear and whispered, "Sorry, bestie."

CRACK!

A bolt of pink lightning shot out of Pyrrha's ear as the fairy inside flash-fried.

Pyrrha dropped to one knee, gasping, free.

Floyd's eyes widened as he felt his fairy die. He spun around, glaring at the overturned wagon. "You little-!"

He tried to spawn another fairy.

Jaune, bloody, bruised, and furious, got up, drew his sidearm and shot the new fairy out of the air before it could clear three feet.

Floyd went for his revolver.

A bronze blur later, Akoúo̱ slammed into his wrist and sent the gun spinning into the dirt.

Pyrrha Nikos, eyes burning, stepped forward.

"My turn."

The beatdown was biblical.

Nora brought the hammer down (literally). Ren delivered precise, surgical strikes that would ensure Floyd felt every one for weeks. Pyrrha beat the shit out of him, breaking his limbs and jaw, before she finished it with a single, contemptuous backhand that sent Floyd face-first into a water trough. His face broke it in half, and left him a soaked, broken mess.

Jaune staggered over to the nearest porch, and sat down. He was bruised, bleeding, and grinning like an idiot.

Pyrrha knelt beside him, gently touching his split lip.

"You okay?"

He laughed, hoarse but genuine. "Never better."

Nora whooped, pumping Magnhild in the air. "That's what you get for messing with our fearless leader!"

Ren allowed himself the tiniest smile. "And our Pyrrha."

Floyd groaned from the trough, half-drowned.

Pyrrha, hands trembling, cupped Jaune's bruised face.

"Jaune… thank you. You went through hell for me."

He looked at her, eyes soft despite everything.

"Pyrrha." His voice was hoarse, but steady as bedrock. "I was never going to stop. Not until you were safe. Not ever."

She stared at him, tears finally spilling over.

Then she kissed him—gentle, desperate, tasting of dust and relief and everything they hadn't said yet.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Weight of a Name

Ruby had always known her mother was special.

Summer Rose wasn't just a Huntress — she was the Huntress. The one who smiled through impossible odds, who had made everyone around her feel like they could be heroes too. Ruby had spent years trying to live up to that legacy, chasing the same silver-eyed dream.

But lately, pieces of the puzzle were starting to shift in ways that made her stomach twist.

It started during a quiet evening in the Xiao Long-Rose household during a weekend home. Taiyang was in the kitchen, Qrow was three drinks in and unusually talkative, and Ruby was helping fold laundry when the subject of old missions came up.

"Your mom and Ozpin went way back," Qrow had said, swirling the last of his whiskey. "Closer than most people knew. He trusted her with things he didn't trust anyone else with. Hell, sometimes I wondered if—"

He'd cut himself off with a cough, suddenly very interested in the bottom of his glass.

Ruby had laughed it off at the time. "What, like they were secret best friends or something?"

Qrow had just grunted. "Something like that, kid."

But the seed had been planted.

Then came the old mission logs she found in Ozpin's office while helping with paperwork. Summer's name appeared again and again — always in the most dangerous assignments, always with personal notes from Ozpin himself. "Summer, be careful." "Summer, I need your eyes on this." "Summer… thank you."

And then there was the photo.

A faded picture tucked between two reports: Summer and Ozpin standing side-by-side after some long-forgotten victory. They weren't touching, but the way they looked at each other — the quiet understanding, the soft smile on Summer's face, the rare warmth in Ozpin's eyes — made something cold settle in Ruby's chest.

They were very close.

The thought wouldn't leave her alone.

It all came to a head one rainy afternoon when Qrow was visiting again. Ruby had been helping him clean his weapons when she finally cracked.

"Uncle Qrow?" she asked, voice small. "You said Mom and Ozpin were close. Like… how close?"

Qrow froze, cloth halfway across Harbinger's blade. He didn't look at her.

"Kid…"

"Was he… was he more than just her boss?" Ruby's hands twisted in her cloak. "Because the way people talk, and the logs, and that picture… it's like they were—"

"Ruby." Qrow's voice was rough. He finally turned to face her, and for once he looked completely sober. "Your mom loved your dad. Tai was her world.

You and Yang were her world. Don't go digging up ghosts that aren't there."

But the damage was done.

That night, Ruby lay awake in her bed at Beacon, staring at the ceiling while her mind spiraled.

What if Ozpin is my real father?

It would explain so much. The silver eyes. The way Ozpin sometimes looked at her like he was seeing a ghost. The way he trusted her with things no student should know. The tension between Ozpin and her dad...

Ruby's hands clenched in her sheets.

What if everything I thought I knew about my family is a lie?

She thought about Taiyang — the man who raised her, who taught her to fight, who still called her "pumpkin" even though she was a leader now. The idea of him not being her real dad made her chest ache.

Ruby rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, fighting back tears.

She didn't want this.

She just wanted to be Ruby Rose.

But the doubt was there now, whispering in the dark like a Grimm that refused to die.

And for the first time in a long while, Ruby wasn't sure if she had the strength to face what might be waiting for her.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Weight of Truth

The Schnee Mansion felt strangely quiet that evening. Most of the staff had been dismissed for the night, and the massive halls echoed with a kind of fragile peace. Ruby Rose sat curled up on a plush couch in one of the smaller sitting rooms, her cloak draped over her shoulders like a security blanket. Whitley Schnee sat beside her, close enough that their knees touched, his usual rigid posture softened in her presence.

They had only recently rekindled things. It was tentative, careful... but real. And in that fragile new beginning, Ruby had started turning to him for more than just comfort.

Telling him everything that had happened had felt like draining poison from a wound. Everything.

So by the end of it, she was drained, and staring up at him with her pale face.

"So... Um... What do you think?" She whispered softly.

Whitley watched her for a moment before speaking, his voice calm and measured.

"Ruby… we need to talk to General Ironwood."

Ruby tensed slightly, but she didn't pull away. "I know. I just… after Lionheart, I don't know if I can trust him. What if he's hiding something too?"

Whitley nodded. He reached over and gently took her hand.

"I understand why you're hesitant. Lionheart's betrayal shook all of us. But we have to look at the logic here." He leaned forward slightly, eyes steady. "Ironwood's entire current strategy is built around a massive conventional military strike against Salem. If he already knows she's effectively indestructible, then he's deliberately wasting Atlas's entire military strength and resources on a plan he knows cannot succeed. That would make him a saboteur on an unimaginable scale."

He gave her hand a light squeeze.

"But if he doesn't know… then withholding this information means we're letting him pour everything into a doomed attack. We lose time, resources, and momentum we can't afford to lose. The smart play is to tell him. We can keep the Relic as insurance. If he reacts poorly or tries to seize it, we'll know exactly where he stands. But if he's truly on our side, this intel is too critical not to share."

Ruby was quiet for a long moment, chewing on her lip as she processed his words. Her silver eyes flickered with uncertainty.

"I want to believe he's still one of the good guys… but after Lionheart, I keep wondering if I'm just being naive again."

"You're not naive for wanting to trust people," Whitley said gently. "But trust should be earned, not assumed. Especially now. We can be careful. We don't have to give him everything at once. But we do have to give him this."

Ruby let out a long breath and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"…Okay. We'll tell him. But you're coming with me when we do it, right?"

Whitley turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

"Of course. I'm not letting you face this alone. Not anymore."

 

[Sliverhero]

Man with a mission

The glass shattered with a musical chime as Roman Torchwick kicked the door open, his cane resting lightly on his shoulder. "In a world of nothing but chaos and dust, this shop is a little slice of order," he mused, watching his henchmen shovel Dust crystals into bags. "Shame it has to go."

Then the door opened again. Roman sighed, adjusting his hat as a girl in a red hood stepped in, wielding a massive scythe that looked heavier than she was. "Alright, listen here, you little..."

He didn't get to finish. The girl moved like a blur of rose petals, dismantling his goons with practiced ease. Roman watched, eyebrows rising, as his hired help was decimated in seconds. He stepped back, reaching into his coat. "Change of plans," Roman muttered into his scroll. "I'm calling in him now..!"

He turned and bolted out the back door just as the girl turned her attention to him. He sprinted down the alleyway, the sound of the girl's pursuit close behind, when the shadows ahead of him seemed to ripple and darken. A massive Bullhead hovered above the rooftops, lowering a ramp. Standing at the edge of the alley was a figure cloaked in tattered, dark grey cloth. Heavy iron armor covered the frame, and a greatsword with a peculiar, bluish blade was sheathed on the figure's back.

Roman skidded to a halt behind the knight. "About time! She's all yours, 'Dark Knight.' Try not to kill her, just buy me some time!" The knight, a towering entity reminiscent of the legendary Abysswalker and the legends of old, merely nodded beneath his winged helmet. He turned to face Ruby Rose as she burst into the alley. "You!" Ruby shouted, leveling Crescent Rose at the newcomer. "I don't know who you are, but you're not getting away with that Dust!"

The knight didn't speak. He simply drew his greatsword in a single, fluid motion, the blade humming with energy. He charged, closing the distance instantly. Their clash sparked, scythe met greatsword in a shower of sparks. The knight was immensely strong, forcing Ruby back with sheer brute force.

They danced through the alley, trading blows. Ruby relied on speed, dodging the heavy swings that cracked the pavement where she stood. She tried to fire a shot at point-blank range to push him back, but the knight predicted her movement. He grabbed the barrel of Crescent Rose with his left hand and swung his elbow out to deflect her.

In the chaotic grapple, his gauntleted hand slipped from the scythe and collided firmly with Ruby's chest, catching her off balance. The metal was cold, but the grip was firm and undeniably powerful. Ruby yelped, her face flushing bright red as she shoved him back using a recoil blast. Did he just...? She shook her head, focusing on the fight, but a strange, lingering warmth remained in her chest. It wasn't just the impact; it was the solidity of it, the undeniable presence of the man behind the armor. She felt a confusing flutter in her stomach that she quickly shoved down. "Focus Ruby Focus, we can think on it Later." She muttered to herself.

The knight seized the opening, launching a flurry of strikes that drove her up the fire escape toward the rooftop. They burst onto the roof under the moonlight, Roman already boarding the Bullhead nearby. "End of the line, Red," the knight seemed to say with his posture alone.

Suddenly, a riding crop cracked through the air, trailing purple energy. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave," Glynda Goodwitch declared, stepping off a hovercraft, her eyes glowing with magic.
The knight didn't hesitate. He spun around, his free hand shooting out to grab Ruby by her ankle. Before she could react, he swung her in a wide arc, hurling the screaming Huntress directly at Glynda.

"You insolent...!" Glynda cried out, barely managing to catch Ruby without hurting her, the momentum forcing her backward and breaking her concentration. As Glynda recovered, gathering her aura for a massive sweeping attack to ground the Bullhead, the knight raised his greatsword. The blade glowed with a blinding light as he swung it horizontally.

"An Aura Slash!" Glynda shouted in alarm.
A wave of energy cut through the air, slamming into Glynda's attack and shattering it. The force of the blast pushed the Huntress back, creating the perfect window. The knight leaped into the air, grabbing onto the Bullhead's landing skid just as the engines roared to life.


Inside the Bullhead, the silence was heavy. Cinder Fall sat elegantly, her amber eyes studying the hulking knight as he removed his gauntlets. Roman lit a cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke. "So," Cinder purred, leaning forward. "A mute mercenary? Roman, where ever did you find someone with such... exquisite combat capabilities?" "Trade secret," Roman replied, leaning back. "He's temporary muscle. Owes me a favor. And he doesn't talk. Not a word."

Cinder's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the knight for any sign of emotion. He sat like a statue, ignoring her gaze. "Very well. But I will be keeping an eye on you." The Bullhead dropped them off at a discreet warehouse on the outskirts of Vale. Roman checked the perimeter, ensuring they weren't tailed. Once inside the secured facility, the heavy steel doors clanged shut.

The knight relaxed his posture, the menacing aura evaporating instantly. From the shadows of the living area, a figure in brown and pink stepped out. Neo Politan. But she wasn't holding her usual umbrella. In her arms, cradled gently, was a three month-old baby boy, fast asleep.

The knight reached up and unlatched his helmet. With a hiss of pressurized air, he pulled it off, shaking out a mop of blonde hair. Jaune Arc smiled tiredly at his girlfriend. "Hey, Neo."

Neo's eyes melted from brown and pink to a soft, happy blue. She shifted the baby slightly so Jaune could lean in and kiss her, a tender moment that seemed completely at odds with the attempted robbery earlier. Roman shook his head, leaning against a crate. "You two are ridiculous." Jauna broke the kiss, scratching the back of his neck. "Did we lose them?"

"Yeah, lost 'em. So," Roman gestured to the baby. "You still planning on going through with that school thing? Beacon?" Jaune looked down at his son, brushing a thumb over the baby's cheek. "Yeah. I have to." "Seems pointless," Roman noted. "You just fought Glynda Goodwitch to a standstill and fought off the that skilled kid without breaking a sweat. You don't need Beacon."

"It's not about the training anymore, Roman," Jaune said softly. "I need the license. Being a certified Huntsman from the best academy in the kingdom? It opens doors. It means legal protection, better contracts, legitimate money. I have to provide for him. For Neo."

Roman looked at the young couple. It was hard to believe it had only been a year. He remembered fondly when Jaune was just a snot-nosed kid wandering into the wrong bar, looking for fake transcripts, completely clueless to the point he wants to go to a huntsman academy that he didn't even have an Aura to unlock. He had been so far over his head it was tragic.

Now, the kid radiated power. He didn't need Beacon to survive, but Roman respected the hustle. If he wanted to go play student to secure a future for his kid, Roman wasn't going to stop him. Besides, Roman thought with a smirk, At least once he's gone, I don't have to listen to them going at it all night. He still found it hilarious. A guy who started with zero Aura had somehow developed enough stamina to overpower a woman with Neo's specific... talents... in the bedroom. It was a mystery of the universe, he felt a proud and a little jealous of that feat.

Roman tuned back into their conversation as he walked toward the mini-fridge. Neo was making hand signs, a small illusion hovering over her palm. Will she be in Vale soon?* the illusion of a snowflake asked silently.

Jaune sat on the couch, unstrapping his greaves. "Probably. I heard she might be getting a singing job somewhere in vale. If she is, we visit." Meanwhile, in the Schnee manor in Atlas. "Achoo!" Weiss Schnee rubbed her nose, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. She was packing her bags for Beacon, her trunk already half-filled with uniforms and Dust vials.

"Someone must be talking about me," she muttered. She turned back to her walk-in closet, reaching for a specific hidden drawer at the back. She opened it and looked down at the contents: a pair of fake reading glasses, a black dress that was far shorter than anything her father would approve of, and a leather collar with a small silver tag.

She felt a heat rise to her cheeks as she remembered the weekend she spent in Vale, the alias, the disguise, the absolute surrender of control to a mysterious blonde man and his silent, multicolored partner. It had been... liberating. To not be the Heiress, but just a 'pet.'

Weiss bit her lip, picking up the collar. She should leave it. She was going to Beacon to become a Huntress, to restore the family honor. But... just in case. She tucked the items into the very bottom of her trunk, buried under layers of winter clothes. She closed the lid firmly. She had heard the Master mention that bar where he worked security sometimes. Maybe, just maybe, she'd find an excuse to visit that bar during her time at Beacon.

"Ready, Weiss?" her father's voice boomed from the hallway. "Ready!" she called back, taking a deep breath and composing her face into the mask of the perfect Schnee heiress.


The next morning, the wind whipped through Jaune's hair as he stood on the Bullhead heading to Beacon. He wore his standard hoodie and jeans, his family sword upgraded with heavier plating and a sharper edge sheathed on his back, and a newly reinforced shield on his hip and both able to combine into a greatsword.

He watched the landscape of Vale pass by below. He was a criminal, a father, and now, a student. He had a lot of plates to spin, but as he patted the locket around his neck containing a picture of Neo and the baby, he knew he could handle it. Time to show beacon he is a man on a mission.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Fun Parent/Teacher Conference moment: Taiyang stays at Beacon over night and he with Glynda... Yes...

And in the morning...

Yang: "Hey Dad! Time to get a wake up call-"

Ruby: "Dad, wake up-"

Glynda and Taiyang peek up from the bed they're sharing, looking a bit sheepish... But undeniably smug.

Yang and Ruby: "... DADDY NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Jaune: "What's all the screaming about...? Oh... Ew."

Ruby: "THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"

Yang: "SERIOUSLY?!"

Jaune: Haunted, dead eyed look "... You get used to it."

Weiss: "What is all the-?! PROFESSOR?! HOW COULD YOU?!"

Glynda: *sighs* "Anyone else going to barge on in or should I just put you all in detention?"

Nora: "Hey guys, are we having a screaming contest? Cause I'm the best!" *stare* "Oh! Mister Xiao-Long and Professor Goodwitch had sex! Neato! Good on you two!" *thumbs up*

Taiyang: *grins, thumbs up back*

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jaune paced back and forth in the JNPR dorm like a man awaiting execution.

He had to make a decision. He really had to.

"It's not fair of me to anyone," he muttered, "It's not fair to Mia... So I just need to go and... And do it, right?"

He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded.

"I've decided," Jaune announced, stopping abruptly. "I'm just going to ask the first girl I run into. Nice and fair, right? No overthinking. No drama. Just… rip the bandage off."

Jaune took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched out the door muttering to himself like a motivational mantra.

"Gonna ask a girl out. Gonna ask a girl out. Be mature. Be smooth. You've got this, Arc. First girl you see. Easy. You had a wife. You can ask out a girl."

He pushed open the library doors, still whispering under his breath.

"First girl. It will be fair, nobody will complain if it's at random, right? Just walk up and say it. Nice and casual. You can do this."

He rounded the corner with his eyes squeezed shut for courage. He could feel a strong female Aura, familiar, right in front of him. He took a deep breath.

"Would you like to go with me to the dance?"

Silence.

Jaune opened his eyes.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch stood directly in front of him, holding a stack of books, staring at him in complete shock.

Her green eyes widened behind her glasses.

Jaune's soul left his body.

"Uhhh…"

Glynda cleared her throat, cheeks faintly pink. "I'm… deeply flattered, Mister Arc. But I'm far too old for you, and it would be highly inappropriate."

Jaune's face turned scarlet. "I— uh, no, I mean—!"

From a nearby table, the entire group — RWBY, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren, and Mia — stared at him in stunned silence.

Jaune nodded quickly, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left. "N-No, of course. I understand. Sorry. Nerves."

Glynda adjusted her glasses, regaining her usual composure. "Yes, I imagine so. Have a nice day, Mister Arc."

"Of course, Professor. Thank you."

Jaune turned on his heel and walked stiffly over to the table like a man marching to his own funeral. He sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands.

Weiss blinked. "What… was that all about?"

Blake smirked knowingly from behind her book. She had heard the entire thing.

Mia, sitting in Ruby's lap, reached over and gently patted Jaune's head.

"Papa's silly!"

Jaune let out a long, muffled groan into his palms.

Nora cackled. "Ten out of ten execution. Zero out of ten landing."

Pyrrha tried (and failed) to hide her sympathetic giggle behind her hand.

Ruby leaned over and whispered, "So… are we pretending that didn't just happen?"

Jaune's muffled voice came from between his fingers. "Yes. Please."

Yang grinned, resting her chin on her hand. "Too late, Vomit Boy. This one's going in the group chat."

Jaune whimpered.

Mia just kept patting his head like he was a sad puppy. "It's okay, Papa. You'll get it next time!"

 

[LordofBones]

Crack idea: Jaune's secretly a novelist and RWBY + Pyrrha are fans of his work. The problem is that they identify too much with the characters he creates, all of which have...unfortunate fates.

Pyrrha: *numb, the book having fallen from her hands* "Alex...alexandria dies? She's...she's killed, just like that? What about her - her destiny? And her boon companions? She just...leaves them grieving for the rest of the series?"
Ruby: *staring at a wall, lips quivering* "Garnet...snaps? But...but she doesn't even have time to process anything and all she knows is that her mother was a hero...she never wanted any of this and now everyone's dead and her sister doesn't take responsibility for her own problems and blames her and - and - and -"

Meanwhile, Jaune's writing the ending...

Jaune: "Hmmm...and there, on Alexandria's grave, John laid his head to rest. It would be hours later, long after the celebration had ended, that Hua and Thor would find him. 'He's smiling,' whispered Hua through her tears, and they both knew that he'd finally found his peace. The End."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The jail cell was cold, poorly lit, and stank. Blake looked around her surroundings, then at the rest of her team.

"So... I... May have made a mistake," she admitted, "Possibly."

"That's the closest thing to an apology you can make, huh?" Yang quipped, as she held a trembling Ruby.

"I can't believe it... Arrested!" Ruby cried. "Arrested for trying to stop terrorists! I have a Hunter-In-Training license!"

"This is going to go on my permanent record," Weiss moaned, "I'll never become a Huntress, I'll never become CEO, I'll be disowned, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" She glared at Blake. Blake held up her hands.

"I... You didn't have to come after me!"

"You didn't HAVE to freak out over us finding out you were a terrorist!"

"FORMER TERRORIST!"

"Of an organization that KILLED MEMBERS OF MY FAMILY!" Weiss screeched. "I THINK I'M HANDLING THE SITUATION VERY WELL ALL THINGS CONSIDERED!"

"Well... WELL YOU'RE JUST RACIST!"

"YOUR ORGANIZATION WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HOW IS RACE A FACTOR?!" Weiss demanded.

"BECAUSE THE SDC ENSLAVES FAUNUS!"

"I DIDN'T DO ANY OF THAT!"

"YOU PROFITED OFF IT!"

"SHUT UP!" Shouted an inmate from the other cell, a burly Faunus man with bear ears, a beard and a scowl, "Makin' too much noise, you underaged prostitutes!"

"We're not prostitutes!" Weiss cried.

"Yeah!" Ruby shrieked. "But I am underaged and oh no what if they think we're hookers we're DOOMED!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO JAIL FOR A PROSTITUTION CHARGE!" Weiss snarled at Blake. Blake shrugged.

"That's hardly the worst thing to be charged for."

"I already have a record, we'll be fine!" Yang insisted.

"YOU'RE ALREADY A HARDENED CRIMINAL!" Weiss yelped. She grabbed Ruby and yanked her away. "Don't listen to her Ruby! We'll get through this! We'll be fine! We won't go to prison! I'm rich! I'll buy our way out!"

"You will?!" Ruby gasped. "Only if you get Yang out too!"

"I'll try but she'll be tougher!"

"Oh no, I'm already too used to being behind bars," Yang joked, "I can't go outside again!"

"NOT FUNNY!" Weiss growled.

"What about me?" Blake demanded.

"YOU GOT US IN THIS MESS! YOU CAN ROT!"

"WHORE!"

"SKANK!"

A female officer came in, and cleared her throat. Weiss pulled back away from the bars, but Ruby moved forward eagerly.

"What's up?! What's happening?!"

"Your bail has been paid and your case was dismissed on grounds of you being Huntresses in training," she said, "The school will pay the fine and your friends are here to pick you up."

"Friends? Who?" Ruby asked eagerly.

Jaune walked out, and waved awkwardly.

"Uh, hey guys," he said.

"JAUNE?!" Everyone chorused.

Weiss scowled.

"This isn't an attempt to get me out on a date again, is it?"

"What? No!" Jaune said quickly, shaking his head. "Of course not!"

"Is it to get a date with me?" Yang asked with a grin,"Because you just won one!"

"Shameless strumpet," Weiss huffed.

"I'm being nice, damnit!"

The cell door opened and RWBY came out. They headed out to the clerk's desk, where Pyrrha, Nora and Ren were waiting. Nora beamed and hugged Ruby.

"Rubes! You're okay! Did you get a prison tattoo?"

"No!"

"Shucks! Guess we'll wait until next time!"

Weiss zeroed in on Pyrrha. She hugged her.

"Oh thank you Pyrrha! You provided the money to bail us out! I'm eternally grateful!" She gushed. Pyrrha coughed and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, no," she said, "Sorry, that was Jaune."

"Huh?" Yang, Ruby and Blake looked at Jaune in disbelief. Weiss raised an eyebrow.

"How much was it?" She demanded.

"Ohhh... That's not important," Jaune laughed nervously.

"150,000 Lien each," Ren blandly said. Weiss goggled. Blake's eyes widened. Yang's jaw dropped as Ruby gasped.

"That much?! Jaune, I-I-!"

"Now listen," Yang said quickly, "If you need us to repay you, I-I can do it! Don't make Ruby do anything! I'll handle it all!" She moved closer to Jaune. "I can do anything you need to repay you! Anything!"

"DON'T DEBASE YOURSELF!" Weiss screeched. "I'll handle this! I can cover it! You want a date, right? We can have dates! ... And money! I can give you money!"

"I... It's such a massive sacrifice to make, Jaune," Blake said, touched. "I don't know how I can repay you but... But I will! However I can!"

"Yeah!" Ruby cried, "I'll repay you forever! We're best friends forever!"

"Uhhh... It's not important," Jaune said quickly. "Not important at all! Let's go get ice cream, huh?"

"What?" Yang frowned. "Is your family loaded?"

"Did you have to make a sacrifice to your parents?" Blake asked, "Give up your dreams of becoming a Huntsman for the money?"

Jaune's eyes widened.

"Wait, I didn't-!"

"You would do that for us, Jaune?!" Ruby gasped, hugging him. She began to sob. "Oh Jaune! You-We're not worth that sacrifice-!"

"HE'S SO NOBLE!" Nora sobbed, hugging him tightly from the other side. Blake walked up and took his hands.

"I'm willing to make up for this in any erotic way you need me to, Jaune!"

"I made the offer first!" Yang growled.

Pyrrha twitched, but hid her smile.

Jaune shook his head rapidly, and held up his hands.

"No! Nonnono! Nothing like that! It's uh... It's just not important, eheh!"

"Why would it not be important?" Weiss demanded.

A police officer came up to Jaune and handed him a check with a smile.

"And here's your change, Mister Arc! This is quite the haul for a young bounty hunter like you!"

Silence fell. The clerk looked around, blinked, then shrugged.

"But uh... Maybe you shouldn't date the woman you brought in? I... Seems kind of dangerous-"

"He lives dangerously!" Nora insisted. The clerk blinked, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

The clerk walked off. All four members of RWBY stared intensely at Jaune. He coughed.

"Ahhhh..."

"Bounty hunter?" Yang prompted, her eyes red. Jaune held up his hands.

"Okay, short version; I took a four hour course to become a licensed bounty hunter because I thought it would help me with becoming a Hunter. I finished the course, got my license, and uh, came to Beacon... And because I called the cops about the situation with White Fang they gave me the money for Blake's bounty."

"My what?!" Blake gasped. Jaune nodded.

"Yup... And uh... I used it to pay your bail... Professor Ozpin did the rest..."

A beat of silence.

"How much was her bounty?" Ruby asked. Weiss snatched up the check and stared at it. She looked at Blake in disbelief.

"150,000 lien per... This much... WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

"Enough to get us out of jail?" Blake offered.

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

Crossposted from SB -


I got a 3K word snippet for everybody. It lacks the level of polish that I usually aspire to (in my own estimation) especially near the beginning and the end.


But this is what I get for doing things without a proofreader.


Nevertheless, I find it increasingly important to try to do more on my own.


Anyway, what this is is a general prologue to all of my Cyber-Whitley ideas, which I am trying to dredge up the motivation to start writing again. Success has been very, very, very limited on that front. Nevertheless I like this idea and everything stemming from it in its raw form and want to get back to doing things with it.


But this is sort of a... prologue I wrote to clue people in. I don't like writing beginnings, you see. So I often skip them and go back in order to make myself feel the enthusiasm to write them. We all have parts that we enjoy or don't enjoy. Those bits of our work that we enjoy weaving just that either more or less.


That is not what I mean.


Because when I'm not writing after my own mercurial muse, I often end up feeling like I have to write things that I don't want to write. And that isn't me speaking to the necessary elements of a story that I feel that I must write in any case to make all of the fun bits attach to each other properly and come off as a coherent look into my inner world.


I mean things like, I can't write a story for a Remnant that has a total population above 400,000,000 people. I just don't see that. Nor do I see Grimm that can have their hides pierced by anything weaker than a 9.5mm H&H. And the bone should behave like the armor of early tanks. They've just got to be monsters worthy of sending Aura wielders after. Horrors against which no final victory can come. You don't win against a death world. The beauty of humanity comes forward in striving nevertheless.


I could try to write such things. Or for any Jaune ship that isn't my top two, or for one of my top two building a harem, but the product would be pure trash.


It isn't an issue opinion or preference at that point, it is artistic integrity and competence.


Funny, I say trash and then hack this up and then let it sit on my hard drive for two weeks before posting. Point is this not my best work and I am entirely aware of that. But I had to put something out if only for my own peace of mind. I know that probably makes me sound like a hack, I certainly feel like a hack.


But you all have indulged my prattling long enough.


Without further ado:

---

How it Happened – The Beginning of my Cyber-Whitley AU & all of its offshoots; Part 1


Though operating under appreciable stress, morale among the White Fang strike team only rose with every step. Every obstacle quietly surmounted, every lock quietly picked, every potential witness meticulously dodged or maneuvered around, every camera quickly hacked and replaced with a looping feed.



Silence was worth four hundred Lien a minute and nevertheless, Brother Onyx was barely able to hold himself back from bursting into song. Today, they would kill Jacques Schnee.



And Onyx himself had been charged with firing the opening shot. Brother Maroon and Sister Air were tasked with firing the follow-up and contingency shots. There was an all-hands-on-deck meeting between the SDC's highest officials today. Onyx himself hadn't known where the information had come from, operational security being what it was. He had only known that the officers in the White Fang's Solitas Branch, with confirmation from the High Leader herself, considered the intelligence actionable enough to mobilize a team.



Any minute now, the SDC chief executive's armored limousine would be making its way along this highway. It was not a direct, or likely route between places that the man would frequent, but knowing his own security measures, that, in Onyx's mind, only confirmed the likelihood of his presence.



Their position was set up in less than ten seconds. An eight-man fireteam consisting of three rockets, two perimeter guards, primary and secondary overwatch, and a communications and electronics officer coordinating had all been set up, clear from backblast, three floors below the rooftop, in a building currently undergoing renovations, where windows and walls were almost as uncommon as people, while the construction crew had all gone off to lunch, waiting to give the Animal God's justice to Jacques Schnee.


"Target spotted, ETA twenty seconds." Onyx readied his rocket launcher and took aim at the nearby section of highway that they had determined the range to from their position in the planning phase and calculated the time that he'd have to pre-fire by given the rocket's velocity.



"Ten, nine, eight, seven," the officer sounded off like a metronome. "Five, four," he continued. He had barely begun to say 'three' when Onyx pulled the trigger. Three a half seconds. That was Onyx's best guess. The distance between the point of launch and the target was a little over two seconds away at the rocket's normal velocity. But there was a delay for acceleration, another delay for Onyx's own brain to receive and act on the information, and the distance was as the crow flies, basic trigonometry indicated that the distance of the diagonal he was firing along was longer than that.



Onyx barely saw the long, dark blue limousine come into view behind the smoke trail of his rocket, but he heard the explosion.



The instant the smoke had dispersed, he saw the remains of an overturned limousine on the highway, its front end mangled in the way that a direct blow from a HEAT warhead could mangle a commercial market car, armored as it was.



"Good hit! Air, follow up on the midsection, Maroon, the gas tank." The officer called without missing a beat. The next two rockets slammed into the overturned vehicle, and even as smoke engulfed their position, Onyx saw the fireball that devoured the car.



There was a pause as the officer stood still, staring at his scroll, and another screen strapped to his wrist. "Evac route Cherry everyone. We are leaving."



Onyx was walking on air all through the retreat. There was no need for stealth, they could shoot as many human obstacles as got in their way and they made better time to the exfiltration point than they had coming from it. Within a few hours he'd be flying out of Solitas, watching the news confirm Jacques Schnee's death.



Somewhat earlier, the SDC parking lot -



Whitley Schnee did not let the exhaustion, the frustration, or anything else appear on his face as he made his way to across the fortified parking lot under the SDC headquarters.



Today's board meeting had been unproductive. None of the board members had so much as touched anything that wasn't considered a closed matter as of last week. Nevertheless, he knew he would be expected to make a productive report to the CEO when he got home.



He already knew how it would begin; 'Several members of the board behave inconsistently with previous patterns. Including those on which their employment was predicated.' Inculpatory enough of others that Jacques wouldn't suspect him being remiss in his duties, or failing to uphold his obligations. However, it was not paranoid, not like he was trying to distract the man.



Assuming today's traffic pattern remained consistent, Whitley was confident that he would be able to churn something out on his laptop denoting how the director, and officer positions at or above the regional level now had a higher statistical mortality rate than Level III+ mines and it may not be presently viable to adjust their hazard pay, insurance, and risk packages accordingly.



Whitley was positive he was not the only one making a report to Jacques. The directors and other departmental officers would be reporting to him too. Information was power. Information asymmetry was necessary for leadership to remain unquestioned. That was why Jacques wanted everybody checking up on everybody else. It kept everyone below him nervous, clumsy, and liable to further expose themselves to him. As the head of both the SDC's marketing and accounting departments, and first in line for CFO, Whitley knew that far better than most. It had been no different from growing up in the man's household.



Whitley entered his father's armored limousine and climbed into the citadel, the armored capsule that protected the frontmost three seats of the passenger compartment. Then he took the intercom and told the chauffeur to take him home. There was nearly zero delay. This chauffeur probably wandered around or fucked around on his scroll when the car wasn't moving, as much as the last one.



But this driver knew enough to minimize his own exposure. He, unlike his predecessor, understood how much of a risk he was taking, and that paycheck was only as big as it was because he wasn't expected to stick around and collect it for more than three years. Whitley dismissed the matter from his head, and got to work over his laptop.



Minutes later, from the corner of his eye, he saw a growing flash of orange light. There came a flash, that he did not just see, but he felt through his whole body, and Whitley Schnee knew only fire, and pain.



Agony stretched the sensation out toward eternity. However, naught but mere seconds could have been able to pass before the pain started to dim and blur at the edges. It began to fade, as if gradually falling into a pillow, as it was being held over Whitley's face.



So, Whitley fought. Truly, he fought. He tried to chase the spiderweb of searing sensations that his mind could perceive in an attempt to hold on, to stay lucid, to stay cognizant. For as long as he kept his mind, he kept his life. He thrashed; he flailed with all of the meager might that he thought he had. But the smothering sensation had been joined by a vice, constricting his windpipe, and tightening. And faster it tightened the tighter it got.



Until Whitley could no longer feel the tightening, he could no longer feel the suffocation, the burning, or the haze. He could only feel the fatigue of his strength spent. His brain commanded eyelids that were no longer there to close around sockets whose contents had burst from the heat of the initial explosion. It did not work. But it was good enough. Either way, Whitley saw only black. And he was too tired to care.



Then he felt nothing.



He couldn't tell how much time had passed when sensation returned to him. And what he could feel was difficult to describe. He felt like he was floating on water… no, cream… that was not it either. Milk perhaps? Whole and warm. And 'floating' was wrong too. It was more like, as he would later recount, 'sinking in reverse.' As though he was drifting down, as opposed to up, facing the bottom of whatever body of liquid that he was in and yet, the heavy fluid pooled above, or underneath him, as water rushes a swimmer out of the way in its journey to reach the lowest point possible, pushing him to the surface. That was the best comparison he could make.



This was the sensation that he felt for a brief interval up until the milk-water started to run thin, and when it felt almost as if he would break the surface/floor a bolt of pain seized Whitley up his spine and into the back of his head, the thunderclap of agony pulling him into further darkness.



Yet he remained cognizant. He could picture himself, hunched and curled up, perhaps on his side, though he couldn't feel his limbs, taste, the air or open his eyes. Any minute now, he would find out if he would be woken up by a group of scientists rousing him from a simulation, or if he had gone the way of every animated protagonist that he had ever seen, being personally introduced to the plots of their respective shows by the front bumper of a truck.



He really wasn't looking forward to what would inevitably come next in the latter case. But he did not discount the chance of a new family. Dare he hope that the next family would love him?



"Alright, all systems online. He should be responsive now." Whitley heard a comically Midgardian accent utter from higher up and perhaps to his left.



"Hmm… Simulation it is." Whitley thought to himself.



"I am afraid that it is no simulation, Herr Schnee." Whitley tried, and failed, to reorient himself in the direction where he thought the voice was coming from.



'You would pardon my incredulity.' Whitley thought again, this time to himself.



No response came after the pause. Whitley noted that. Until further testing, thoughts would emanate, for want of a better term, from him and into the aether until further testing could be done.



"Amzel! Did we lose him?!?" Came the raised shout of General James Ironwood. Whitley had never really met the man, but he had spoken to Jacques enough, and made enough public appearances that the Schnee scion could identify his voice.



"Nein, the brainwave monitor here displays that he is thinking to himself." Amzel, replied, again with an accent that sounded like a Valeman's impression of an Atlesian scientist with some particular derangement or another. Speaking with respect to a machine that Whitley could not see. "He is likely simply processing his circumstances."



"Regarding the same," Whitley thought/spoke "Where am I, and why are you able to read some of my thoughts? I understand that I am most likely blind and awaiting some prosthesis. But what I do not understand is how you are able to hear at least some of my thoughts."



"Ah, that is easy, young Whitley. Your injuries on the highway being critical, you were relocated to a life support unit in an aerial ambulance. Of course, you are no longer in a life support unit, as you have most likely deduced. After your resuscitation, your brain was relocated to a cybernetic cranial casing with integrated life support functions." Amzel continued.



'Cybernetic cranial casing?' Whitley wondered with a pit of dread pooling inside of the stomach that he admittedly no longer possessed. "Am I to understand that I am now just a brain in a jar?!" He asked in alarm.



"Wrong on all counts." Amzel replied. "Your C-spine also retained some level of integrity. And the remains of your C-1 through C-3 vertebrae remain attached and contained in a flexible armored appendix beneath the cranial unit. The unit's exact capabilities are military secrets which I am not at liberty to disclose until your enlistment is made official. You are also hooked up to my laptop and conversing with us via its audio input and output."



"Enlistment?" Whitley inquired, duplicating as best he could the raised tone that his father used when receiving information was not just unexpected, but also unpleasant.



"Well…" Amzel drew out. "There was a disagreement regarding exactly who would be paying for your prosthetics. Your sire decided to shirk his legal und natural obligations, and say that covering your exoframe should be society's problem."



"That is a complete misrepresentation of the conversation that took place between your superior and I, Lieutenant General!" Whitley heard his father add. Giving Whitley a better idea as to where the man stood in the command structure.



Whitley wasn't surprised. His father wouldn't spend any money he didn't need to spend. Being raised in the man's household, he saw the logic. Expending one's own effort and resources wasn't a logical thing to do when lesser expenditures could compel, by threat or by force, someone else to expend their own strength to your ends, which had the knock-on effect of preserving one's own stockpiles and treasure trove.



He wasn't surprised to find out how poorly his own well-being rated in the eyes of Jacques Schnee.



There should have been something there, some emotive reaction. He understood also that he should be feeling something besides the mildest of disappointments at being proven right. He knew he had limited value to his father. But for most of his life he had given himself the leeway of being a necessary expense in Jacques' eyes.



Something dark rumbled in Whitley's mind. 'That had been a mistake,' he admitted to himself. He had gotten comfortable, complacent, he had taken for granted the surety of his own footing in proximity to Jacques Schnee.



Fortunately, Whitley Schnee learned from his mistakes.



"Returning to the point, young Whitley," Amzel's address shook him from his ruminations. "Atlas will cover the cost of your prosthesis. But you will reimburse us."



"I take it through years of service rather than a financial arrangement," Whitley replied. Something, not quite tone, betraying what could have been lukewarm disappointment or impassive nonchalance.



"It isn't a state of affairs that I am exactly pleased with either, son." Jacques was trying to somehow paint himself as the aggrieved party in this matter, and further ingratiate himself with the person who suffered the actual injury in the same stroke… again. Whitley had watched the same thing play out a hundred-hundred times in the upper strata of Atlesian business and politics. But he had hardly ever seen it from this side of the equation.



"They were the ones who let you die, and yet they feel entitled to your service." Jacques continued.



'Wait… Die..!' Whitley thought with some trepidation. That particular truth paralyzing him where he was. The human mind is not made to truly contemplate or comprehend the cession of its own existence. 'When did I die? What part of what I felt was death? The fire or the floating?'



"Schnee!" Ironwood barked back at Jacques. "That is a complete mischaracterization of the situation…"



As Ironwood continued to berate his father, Whitley recalled Amzel's mention of resuscitation. "I suppose I really did die there for a while."



"You were clinically dead for exactly sixteen-point-eight-three-two seconds." Amzel clarified through his thick accent.



"Not brain-dead then," Whitley clarified. "Should I be aware of any cellular damage resulting from oxygen starvation?"



"Nein." Amzel clarified. "And once your father and his bodyguard give us the room, I will be able to discuss details of your situation in depth."



They did, sooner or later, as Whitley heard his genitor's torrent of accusations, admonishments, and deflections, as well as the head general's half-shouted own accusations and denials recede from the room before the door closed.



"Now that we are alone, I may explain to you what your duties will entail." Amzel explained. "You will serve as a test pilot for the latest generation of military cybernetic augmentations. To this end, you will be assigned the rank of Warrant Officer and placed under my command. It is exceedingly likely that I will assign you other tasks and command that you assist in other SCTC programs and cooperate with other SCTC personnel. You will, furthermore, be assigned to active combat operations at my discretion. If we need actual combat data, you will be the one out obtaining it. I will not be saying anything more until I have your verbal assent to this."



Whitley did not hesitate, "You have my assent, general." Even if the decision had not already been made when he was unresponsive, Whitley understood the shape of his options and prospects as a brain in a jar quite clearly.



"Good. Your father already signed your enlistment paperwork as your legal guardian. Consider yourself enlisted and under my command. I will soon be disconnecting you from the laptop, after which we will relocate to the Jotun complex where you will be given your posting and assignment. Tell me what, if anything, you experience in the interim."



Amzel did not even give Whitley the chance to respond before he felt something snap or cut. And then, Whitley felt alone, isolated, and that floating feeling, in a half-hunch or fetal position.



Rationally, he understood it was just his brain trying to process its new state of affairs while operating under complete sensory deprivation. But the analogues and allegories, for want of a better turn of phrase, gave the world around him shape and form.



He could feel his limbs, his body, drifting in the fetal position, under an endless black sea. Bother. He would probably be stuck like this without being plugged into any prosthetic. And for what was nothing near the first time in his life, Whitley Schnee found himself weighing whether he should try sleep, or remaining with his thoughts.



To be continued.

---

I hope you all enjoyed that, and I would appreciate any feedback that any of you have. And again, be as specific as possible.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The weapons workshop was quieter than usual in the late afternoon. Jaune had stopped by to work on Crocea Mors, carefully oiling the blade and checking the mechanisms on the shield. He was so focused that he didn't notice anyone else until a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Jaune?"

He turned to see Velvet Scarlatina standing near the doorway, Mia perched happily on her hip. The little girl was swinging her legs and playing with one of Velvet's long ears.

"Velvet? Hey," Jaune said, surprised. "What are you doing here? And with Mia?"

Velvet gave him a small, slightly embarrassed smile. "Ruby called and said she was going to be late picking her up. I volunteered to grab her from daycare."

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Ruby's late? That's not like her."

Velvet's ears twitched. "She and Coco have been spending a lot of time together lately. They've gotten… closer. Ruby really likes her-Especially given her Semblance can cause bigger explosions."

Jaune blinked, then smiled. "Huh. Good for them."

Though he'd probably need to watch out during the next training session.

Velvet nodded, then glanced down at Mia. "I thought I'd bring her here while I finished up a few things. Hope that's alright."

"Yeah, of course," Jaune said. He wiped his hands on a rag and stood up. "Mind if we head outside? I could use some fresh air."

They found a quiet spot in one of the smaller courtyards. Jaune sat on a stone bench and laid Crocea Mors across his lap, resuming his careful maintenance. Velvet sat beside him with Mia between them.

"You're taking good care of it," Velvet observed, watching him work.

Jaune nodded. "My great-grandfather reforged it before I left. I try to keep it in good shape."

Velvet smiled softly. "That's good. Weapons like that deserve to be looked after."

Mia, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly perked up and looked at Velvet with wide eyes.

"Are you a Faunus too?" she asked. "Did you come from Menagerie like Auntie Blake?"

Velvet's ears twitched. For just a second, something sharp and angry flashed in her eyes — an old, familiar pain. But she quickly pushed it down and smiled warmly at Mia.

"No, I'm not from Menagerie," she said gently. "I was born here in Vale. My father is human… and my mother is a rabbit Faunus who came from Menagerie."

Mia tilted her head. "Really?"

Velvet nodded. Her voice grew quieter, and a faint Menagerian accent slipped through without her realizing. "They faced a lot of trouble for being together. Some people in the White Fang even tried to hurt them because my mother 'betrayed' her own kind by marrying a human."

Mia's eyes went wide. "That's mean!"

Velvet's expression softened. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Mia's face. "I'm sorry for telling you something so heavy, Mia. I shouldn't have-"

But Mia suddenly lit up with pure excitement.

"You're like me!" she said happily. "You're a grown-up rabbit me! And you're super nice!"

Velvet blinked, clearly caught off guard. A small, genuine smile broke across her face.

"…Thank you, Mia."

She looked over at Jaune, ears slightly lowered. "I'm sorry for venting like that. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Jaune said quietly. He glanced at Mia, then nodded toward the open courtyard. "Hey, kitten. Why don't you go play for a bit? I'll be right here."

Mia nodded and hopped off the bench, running off with her toy sword to swing it at imaginary Grimm.

Velvet and Jaune watched her go in comfortable silence for a moment.

"She's an amazing little girl," Velvet said softly. "You've done an incredible job raising her."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck. "My family did a lot of the heavy lifting, honestly. Especially when Katy…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "They were really supportive."

Velvet hesitated, then asked carefully, "Were they… okay with you marrying a Faunus?"

Jaune looked at her and grinned. "Katy was my childhood friend. Our families had been close for centuries. Nobody ever had a problem with it."

Velvet let out a small, wistful sigh. "That sounds like a wonderful place… and a wonderful family." Her ears drooped slightly. "My mother's family disowned her for marrying a human. My father's family has been welcoming, but things are often tense because he's from Atlas and... Well..."

Jaune was quiet for a second, then said, "If you ever want to visit Radian… I'm more than happy to take you there."

Velvet's cheeks flushed pink. She looked down at her hands. "I… I would like that."

Before either of them could say anything else, Mia came sprinting back over, out of breath and grinning.

She stopped right in front of Velvet, looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes, and blurted out:

"Would you like to give me a sibling with Papa?"

Velvet's entire face went bright red. She opened and closed her mouth several times, completely speechless.

Jaune let out a long, exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kitten," he said tiredly, "no. I told you not to ask girls that anymore."

Mia pouted. "But she might want to!"

Jaune gave her a stern look. "No."

Mia crossed her arms and huffed, but didn't argue further. She simply turned and ran back off to play with her toy sword.

Velvet was still bright red, one hand covering her mouth as she tried (and failed) to regain her composure.

Jaune glanced at her and offered a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. She's been… very determined lately."

Velvet let out a shaky laugh, still flustered. "It's… it's alright. She's very direct."

Jaune chuckled softly. "Yeah. That's one word for it."

 

[Sliverhero]

Man with a mission part 2

Roman Torchwick leaned back against the crate, watching Jaune adjust the strap of his shield. A year ago, he would have laughed this kid out of the alley. Now? It was strange. Roman wasn't exactly the sentimental type, he didn't do warm fuzzies, but looking at the blonde idiot adjusting his weapon with the precision of a veteran, Roman felt a pang of something dangerously close to pride. He'd never say it, of course. He had a reputation to maintain. But in his head, he admitted it: he was proud to have this goofball as a son-in-law.

It was ridiculous how it started. A simple stop for ice cream. Roman had just wanted a mint chip cone to tide him over, and Neo had wandered off. She came back dragging this lanky, blonde mess by the hoodie who was asking about fake transcripts. Roman had his cane out, ready to scare the local brat, but Neo just tilted her head and gave him that look. He's cute, She'd taken a liking to him instantly.

But the real shocker came that first night. Roman still remembered walking into the safe house apartment, expecting to find Neo bored and the kid tied to a chair or something. Instead, he found them in bed, asleep. The kid was shirtless, and Roman's criminal instinct immediately cataloged the damage. There were deep, angry scratches running down Jaune's back, trails of blood that were still wet.

Roman had frowned, nudging the bedframe. "Hey, kid." Jaune had jolted awake, blinking blearily. The movement pulled at the wounds, making him hiss. That was when Roman realized the cuts weren't healing. At all.

"Where's your Aura?" Roman had asked, incredulous. "My... what?" Jaune had mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Roman stared at him. "Your Aura. Your shield. Your life force. You know, the thing that keeps you from bleeding out when a pint-sized sadist uses you as a scratching post?"

Jaune had just looked confused. "I... don't think I have one of those?" Roman was floored. This kid, this Aura-less, civilian nobody, had not only survived a night with Neo, who had the stamina of a Huntress and the appetite of a predator, but he had apparently held his own long enough to... well, Roman didn't want the details, but the evidence was on the sheets. The fact that Jaune had outlasted her without the supernatural endurance of an unlocked Aura was a medical marvel. It was a testament to pure, unadulterated grit (or teenage hormones).

Roman sighed and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hold still. This is going to tickle." He'd unlocked Jaune's Aura then and there. It be like any other thing he had to do it for junior goons. Damn, that flash of white light biggest he ever seen from an unlocking had sealed the wounds instantly, but Roman never forgot the sight of the kid soldiering on through pain that would have dropped a trained man.

It was that resilience that made the Museum heist go so smoothly. The plan was simple: Roman needed inside the Vale Natural History Museum to swipe a relic for a client, a pale, but beautiful terrifying woman who went by the witch . She wanted the "Blanket of the First King," an ancient weave supposedly made from impossible Grimm-fur. The blueprints Roman bought were good, but they were missing the updated security protocols.

That was where Jaune came in, to help pay his debt. "Head of security," Roman mused, remembering the badge Jaune had flashed. "Who knew 'honest work' paid so well in intel?"

Jaune had taken a job as a night watchman. For three weeks, he walked the floors, memorized the camera blind spots, and most importantly, noticed the things the blueprints didn't show. He found the pressure sensors under the floorboards in the East Wing and the secondary silent alarm wired to the display case's temperature gauge.

On the night of the heist, Roman and Neo dropped in through the skylight. They landed silently, expecting to dodge laser grids. Instead, they found a clear path. Jaune met them in the hall, still in his uniform.

"The sensors in the hallway are on a loop," Jaune had whispered, handing Roman a keycard. "But watch the third step. It's got a new pressure trigger I couldn't bypass without tripping the main server." "You're a genius, kid," Roman had grinned.

They walked out with the Blanket, tripping zero alarms. Because the internal security was compromised so flawlessly, the police didn't even know a robbery had occurred until they opened the case the next morning. It was listed as a "mysterious disappearance." The client, Witch, was so impressed with the ghost-like execution that she paid a huge bonus.

Jaune used his portion of the bonus to buy a beautiful three story house, and he still have tons left. "Still can't believe I'm a grandfather," Roman muttered to himself, shaking his head. He was too young for this. Too dashing, too many women left to charm. But if he was going to be a grandpa, he was going to be a rich one. Which meant more heists.

The pregnancy had complicated things, though. Neo was sidelined, which meant Jaune had to take her place on the Dust train job they got the green light for. Roman had been hesitant, but the resulting payout from the job overpowered his hesitantence and he have jaune with him. He is surprisingly capable.

He remembers getting onto to the train to claim the dust when the bloody white fang show up. Even worse its that damn Adam taurus the upcoming white fang member that came from nowhere. So many people died to that animal. To Roman delight he would never forget the sight. The White Fang lieutenant, Adam Taurus, stepped out of the Bullhead, glowing red sword in hand, looking for a fight and some rando black cat fanus chick as well. Roman seeing this signaled Jaune, who was wearing a modified, sleeker version of his Abysswalker armor to hide his face.

"I expect you to crumble as easily as the rest SDC scum," Adam had sneered. Jaune hadn't said a word. He just drew that heavy greatsword. When Adam lunged, pulling a poweful Moonslice focusing all of his aura and semblance into it carving through the air, Jaune met it with his shield. The shockwave shattered the windows of the train car. Adam staggered back, eyes wide, noone has ever stop that before, he is impressed. Jaune pressed the attack, his speed belied by his armor, forcing the terrorist back. For the first time, Roman saw Adam Taurus, the big bad bull is forced to retreat to a safe distance to blow the train tracks. It was shocking.

Roman shook himself from the memories. The warehouse was quiet now. The Bullhead for Beacon was due in a hour. On the couch, Jaune had finished packing. He sat down next to Neo, who was holding their son, little Leo, who was blinking awake. Jaune smiled, that goofy, sincere smile that had won over the most dangerous mute assassin in Vale.

"Hey, little man," Jaune whispered, tucking a blanket around the baby. "Daddy has to go to school for a bit. But I'm going to leave you with something. A story about a knight."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a large, old looking leather-bound storybook. The cover featured a painting of a knight in dark grey armor standing before a swirling purple vortex. It was a rare find from the island of Patch, his grandfather found it during the great war and it one of the older versions that told the legend of the Abysswalker.

"It's your favorite," Jaune said to Neo softly. "But I since we family now, might as well show a first edition as the other future editions they changed it. ."Neo raised an eyebrow, her eyes shifting to a curious purple. "one thing was removed was the poems about the Abyss Walker," Jaune explained, clearing his throat. "But...they are in the style of those old nonsense poems."

Roman rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, but he listened. He couldn't help it. The kid had a way of drawing you in. Jaune took a deep breath and began to recite, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, storytelling cadence.


'Twas brutal, and the righteous pale
Did weave and wind the darkened trail:
All mimsy were the Grimm-bones bred,
And the Jabberwock, with eyes of red,
Came creeping through the shadow-shale.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Curiosity Queen!
And shun the frumious Cat-ish scratch!"

He took his vorpal blade in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought
Then rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Queen of Curiosity,
With Cheshire grin and eyes of wood,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as she came!

She struck with speed of petal-storm,
A blur of rose and razor-form!
But on his plate the blows did land,
He stood his ground, a guarded man,
And laughed to see her rage transform.

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brutal, and the righteous pale
Did weave and wind the darkened trail:
The Knight in grey, who stood the test,
Now lays the monster to his rest,
And all is calm within the vale.

Jaune finished with a flourish, grinning down at little Leo, who had drifted back to sleep to the rhythm of his father's voice. Neo wiped a mock tear from her eye, clapping silently.

Even Roman found himself smirking behind his crate. "Nonsense," he muttered, pushing off the wood and walking toward them. "Absolute drivel. But... you've got a future in something, kid. Just don't make it poetry."

Jaune stood up, shouldering his bag. He gave Neo a long, lingering kiss, kissed the baby's forehead, and looked at Roman. "Ready?" Roman asked, jerking his head toward the door.

"Ready," Jaune said, the Dark Knight gone, replaced by the Huntsman in training. "Let's go show them what we've got."



Hope I did the poem right as I tried to do it simlair to Jabberwocky poem by Lewis Carroll.
When we get to beacon jaune is going to have an awkward time as he knows all of team rwby in various disguises and now has to hide that blake is apart of white fang as he cant explain how he knows.

Spoiler

lets just say the events of ever after are much darker here.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Had a funny idea: Ren is actually a fan of the Remnant equivalent of James Bond-A series of spy movies. He watched some of the movies with his father. Jaune finds out, and they marathon the other movies. Ren admits that as silly as it was, he did always admire his fictional hero, how cool and stoic and heroic he was. He didn't tell Nora because he couldn't afford to indulge in fantasy while they were surviving together, not for a second... But he did imagine himself as his hero from time to time. He is only human, after all.

Nora overhears, and has an idea! Which she takes to Jaune and Ruby... And they agree it's great! They decide to let Ren be a Super Spy in a fun LARP, and they rope their teams and Ozpin into it.

Ruby is Q. Ozpin is the M-equivalent (With Glynda going along with rolled eyes but trying to help). Nora of course will be the girl Ren ends up with! And Jaune... Is the villain!

Nora also chooses Weiss as another Bond girl.

Weiss: "Why me?"

Nora: "Because my Renny is so manly, I can't risk just any woman doing this job! So we need a lesbian!"

Weiss: "Wha-I'M NOT A LESBIAN! I dated Neptune!"

Nora: "And point made!"

Weiss: "UGH!"

It turns into chaos! Wonderful chaos! Can Lie Ren, Agent 44 (Death and Death in Chinese number association) overcome this peril and save the day?!

 

[AndrewJTalon]

A fun idea for Jaune's joint Albion/Gallian heritage? When visiting on the farm...

Blake: "So... You have a holiday called Bonfire Night?"

Jaune: "Yes!"

Blake: "Do you... Dispose of anything in the bonfire?"

Jaune: "Well, extra timber and old wood, sure."

Blake: "Anything else you burn?"

Jaune: "Well... We have an effigy of Roy Hawks. He tried to blow up the government and failed. So we burn him to remember his failure."

Blake: "Like... You're happy he failed?"

Jaune: "No."

Blake: *blinks* "Wasn't your nana the Empress of the entire Empire? Why would she celebrate someone failing to blow up her government?"

Nana Arturia, walking up, huffs.

Arturia: "As someone who had to be the bloody government... Of course I'm bloody upset he didn't blow it up!"

Blake: "... Huh."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The courtyard was alive with the sound of laughter and the low hum of a leafblower.

Jaune jogged behind Mia, who was pedaling her little red tricycle as fast as her short legs could manage. He kept the leafblower pointed just behind her back wheel, giving her an extra burst of speed every few seconds. Mia squealed with delight every time she shot forward.

"Faster, Papa! Faster!"

Jaune laughed, sweat dripping down his face. "You're already going Mach 5, kiddo!"

Yang walked up from the side path, arms crossed, a warm smile on her face as she watched them.

"Look at you two," she called out.

Mia spotted her and waved wildly. "Auntie Yang!"

Yang caught the tricycle as it zoomed past, spun Mia around in a playful circle, and pushed her back toward Jaune. The leafblower kicked in again, sending Mia shooting forward with another delighted squeal. They played like that for a few minutes — Yang catching her, pushing her back, Jaune boosting her with the leafblower — until Mia was laughing so hard she could barely pedal.

Finally, Yang hugged Mia, and pushed her off on her tricycle. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat down beside Jaune, who turned off the leafblower and wiped his forehead.

Mia drove around, giggling happily as she skidded around the courtyard, not a care in the world.

Yang glanced sideways at Jaune. "So… how are you doing?"

Jaune leaned back, exhaling. "I'm doing fine. Tired, but fine."

Yang was quiet for a moment, then asked, "So... Um... The Dance."

Jaune nodded.

"Yeah. The Dance."

Yang sucked in a breath.

"So, you know... It's coming up. Like, uh, heh... Fast. Like a jig."

"Heh, yeah," Jaune nodded. Yang leaned forward, studying her hands.

"Sooo... Uh... You have a date yet?"

Jaune tensed slightly. He took a deep breath.

"No."

"Huh, funny," Yang smirked, "Same... You want to fix that?"

Jaune took another deep breath. He slowly turned, making sure he was looking Yang right in the eyes. He took her hands in his.

"I'd love to take you," he said honestly. "But… I'm not ready yet. There are other girls interested in me, and I don't want to make a choice right now. Not at a dance where things might get ugly, especially with training missions starting soon. So… I want to just go as friends. With everyone."

Yang's eyes flashed red for a brief second. She looked away, jaw tight. Then she sighed, the red fading.

"…I'm not happy about it," she admitted. "But I get it. You're trying to be fair."

Jaune nodded. "I'm not a playboy. I'm not some scumbag who's stringing everyone along—"

Yang reached over and gently covered his mouth with her hand.

"I know you're not," she said softly. She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. "But that just means I know the game now… and I'm going to play to win."

She pulled back with a determined grin, then turned it to Mia as she drove up to her.

"Vroom vroom! Will you take me on Bumblebee, Auntie Yang?"

Yang grinned and ruffled her hair, making her giggle.

"When you're old enough. Now... Go play, kiddo."

Mia cheered pedaled off happily.

Yang stood up, stretching. "See you later, Vomit Boy."

She walked off with a confident sway in her step, leaving Jaune staring after her.

Mia pedaled back over a minute later, tilting her head at him.

"Daddy? Are you okay?"

Jaune blinked, then gave her a tired smile. "I… Well… I hope so."

As Mia rode off again, one thought kept circling in his head:

How the hell am I going to break the news to the others?

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

This was going to be a long week.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The JNPR common room was lively that evening. Team RWBY had wandered over after training, turning the space into a casual hangout. Jaune was trying (and failing) to read a textbook while Pyrrha quizzed him. Nora and Ruby were playing cards. Blake read in the corner. Yang lounged on the couch, and Weiss sat primly with a book.

The door burst open.

Neptune Vasilias strode in, bottle of expensive-looking wine in hand and a confident smirk plastered on his face. His eyes immediately locked onto
Weiss.

"Hey, Weiss! Looking gorgeous as always." He shot Jaune a sidelong glance. "And Arc. Figured I'd stop by."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Neptune. What brings you here?"

Neptune held up the bottle like a trophy. "Heard you've been spending time with this guy lately," he said, jerking a thumb at Jaune. "Thought we could have a little friendly competition. Man to man. Drinking contest. Winner gets bragging rights… and maybe a dance with you at the next event."

Jaune blinked. "Wait, what? I don't agree to—"

Yang immediately sat up. "Ooh, drinking contest? He's in!"

Nora's eyes sparkled. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Weiss examined the bottle. "Hm. That's actually a decent vintage. Surprising choice, Neptune."

Neptune grinned, clearly taking that as a win. "Only the best for you, Snow Angel."

Jaune took the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed. His face immediately scrunched up. "This is… overpriced swill. My family's been making wine since before my great-grandpa was born. This stuff tastes like someone fermented regret and charged extra for the label."

Neptune smirked. "You just don't want to drink it because you're a lightweight, Farm Boy."

Jaune sighed. "No, it's genuinely bad wine—"

"DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!" Nora and Yang chanted in unison.

Ruby clapped excitedly. "This is gonna be great!"

Ren gave Jaune a little smirk and shrug from his meditation mat. No help there.

Jaune rubbed his temple. "Alright, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

- - -

Two glasses later, Neptune was face-down on the table, mumbling incoherently about "cool poses" and "shark shirts."

Nora and Ruby had already broken out the markers and were happily drawing mustaches, hearts, and little fish on his face.

Pyrrha stared in quiet awe. "Wow… that's some liver, Jaune."

Jaune shrugged, perfectly composed after three full glasses. "Just stuff I've been drinking since I was a kid. My family makes the good stuff. This?" He swirled the glass with mild disgust. "This is tourist trap wine."

Yang let out a low whistle, grinning. "Heh… you think you could outdrink me, Stud?"

Jaune gave her a nervous smile. "Well, uh… I dunno…?"

"You can outdrink me too!" Pyrrha said quickly.

Weiss, still staring at the bottle like it had personally betrayed her, crossed her arms. "I can't believe you called it a bad vintage!"

Jaune gave her an apologetic look. "It's a bad everything of wine. I'll call up my parents and send you some good stuff. The Arc Reserve '78 is supposed to be excellent this year."

Weiss opened her mouth, closed it, then muttered, "…I would not be opposed to that."

Neptune let out a loud snore, a little doodled heart now on his cheek.

Blake looked up from her book. "Should we… wake him up?"

Nora beamed. "Nah! He's our new canvas! I shall make him my masterpiece!"

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"You're drawing a penis."

"Don't question our artistic vision!"

 

[jojoin567]

@AndrewJTalon
Theatre time for the Dragon Slayer Family....



Arcadia Theatre


It was the 30th wedding anniversary of Jaune and Yang. To celebrate their anniversary Jaune and Yang rented an entire theatre to watch their favourite movies with all 18 of their children.

Jaune: holding hands with Yang "We came a long way haven't we babe."

Yang: leaning on his arm "Yes..., nothing would top this experience my dear hubby."


Some of the children were getting cavities while the smaller ones ewwed at them......still they enjoyed their times with their parents.


Jaune: smiling mischievously "Hey Yang, do you know the reason why a pigeon's voice doesn't echo in the auditorium?"

Yang: smiling back "Why Jaune?"

Jaune: "Because of acoosticks!!"


A few seats behind

Xia: calling her aunt "Hey, aunty Rubes."

Ruby: in a confused voice "What is it Xia??"

Xia: "Can we crash at your place aunty?"

Ruby: "........Jaune told Yang a pun right??"

Xia: " .....yes"

Ruby: after exhaling deeply "Give me 30 minutes, let me prepare the beds."