So, I really enjoyed writing this. Like a lot, lot. I have always loved Community. It's one of my favorite shows ever. So, writing this homage to it has been awesome. You may think the characters are a little off but don't worry, they aren't really.

In order to create a more sit-com feel to my setup I needed to exaggerate character flaws and even create a few new ones. This makes the characters come off OOC but the important bits will still be there. There is one who is…really really OOC. But there was nothing I could do about that.

What is Community without Abed?

And no one can naturally fill that role…

So, Ren's personality had to get…adjusted.

But the others are more essentially the same, Jaune's a good guy inside, but this one's more arrogant. Blakes way more obnoxious about her social conscious. Ozpin is…well he just is.

The list goes on.

I'm not bashing any character's kay? Just building my Community.

No beta. I apologize. Continue.

Pilot

"Good morning students. Many of you are halfway through your first week here at Beacon and, as headmaster, I thought—and I am not in any way being forced against my will to say this—I would share a quick word of inspiration."

The PA system went silent after that.

A few seconds later the speakers came back to life.

"Why do I have to say anything more than…are you kidding me…? Half these kids will probably be dead within…okay fine, whatever I'll inspire them whatever that means…no my elbow is not on the…oh guess it is. Wait Glynda, we can talk about this…just put the mug down…Glynda no! Wait! Stop! I'll do it right! I'll do it right!"

The speakers went dead again.

A minute later the headmaster's voice returned.

"I apologize for the technical difficulties earlier. Mrs. Goodwitch was being a scamp."

A snapping noise erupted through the speakers

"Ah. And now my wrist is broken and I can no longer hold my cue cards. Let me just pick those up—with my good hand mind you—now, where was I? Right, I hadn't even started reading yet. Okay. Here we go."

Another pause.

"Ahem. Hello students of Beacon. Especially, first years. This message is for you. As I am sure you are aware, this semester has gotten off to a strange start. After all, the initiation has been a Beacon tradition for decades. I'm sure many of you were looking forward to the event—I know I was. Trying to make up team-assignments is so damn boring—and it's totally underway! We'll have you first-years partnered up soon! Unless…you all want to be the lone wolf generation…? Ow! Okay! Anyway. What is Beacon academy? What does it mean to become a huntsman or huntress or the alternative gender friendly profession, huntsperson? Well, you've probably heard all kinds of things about our little school here."

There were some papery sounds, cards shuffling.

"You've heard it's a 'nuthouse' filled with the suicidal-ly heroic, all of them searching for some cause to throw away their lives for…"

Somewhere in Beacon, a crimson-cloaked reaper glanced sheepishly at her sister. The sister glared back at her with the intensity of a desert sun.

"…a 'run-away-home' for cowards looking to escape their families, problems, and responsibilities…"

Elsewhere in Beacon, an heiress scoffed, rolling her eyes at the champion seated across from her.

"…a 'shelter' for pretentious do-gooders with a hypocritical bone to pick with the world..."

Elsewhere in Beacon, a former White Fang Operative adjusted her bow in a bathroom mirror.

"…and the 'nursing home' of has-been huntspersons futilely trying to be remembered as they circle the drain of eternity…"

Elsewhere in Beacon, a rotund professor laughed jovially.

"That's what you've heard. However…"

Another card shuffle noise.

"I wish you luck."

There were some banging noises from the other side of the PA system. "Does one missing card really make that big a…? Hey! You said you would give that…Hold on Glynda, we can talk—"

The speakers deadened—seemingly for good this time.

###

"Huh," said Ren, eyes fixed on the speaker above him. "What an intriguing way to introduce some of the characters. Makes you wonder what kind of hijinks are to come."

"What?" said Jaune, thoroughly confused by his bizarre new acquaintance.

Ren returned his attention to Jaune, "anyway, where was I?"

"Deep into it," replied Jaune, "where? I don't know. But deep into it. I know I was in the middle of realizing you are not the quiet guy I thought you were."

"I am a quiet guy," replied Ren, "but you said we were friends. I talk to my friends."

"Actually, I asked you what time it was, and you said 'quid pro quo' and asked me if we could be friends."

"And you said yes," pointed out Ren. "Which establishes us as friends. I felt it was then necessary to offer up some background information—to solidify my characteristics in your head."

"You want us to be best friends Ren?" asked Jaune.

Ren's response was immediate. "Can't. I already have a best friend. She's the kind of character that won't share the title."

"Fine. Do you want us to be close friends Ren?"

Ren nodded slowly. "Nora should be okay with that. As long as you don't have any homosexual predilections."

Jaune stared at his new "friend" blankly for a few seconds. "No, I don't have any homosexual predilections."

"Good. Nora says I'm too much of a blank book. I'm not allowed to hang out with people who might try to write in me. She says homosexuals and sluts are the main offenders."

"Is Nora your friend or your mother?"

"Friend. Like you."

"Right, like me. Well, here's the key to my heart Ren. And I promise it doesn't involve any of the homosexuality. The brunette with the bow, in our Grimm studies class, what's her deal?"

Ren's magenta eyes closed. "Well, I haven't really talked to her, because I'm not friends with her like I am with you."

"Obviously," said Jaune.

"But she did borrow my pencil the other day…" continued Ren.

"Okay…?"

"So, I know her name's Blake, she's seventeen, she's from 'around,' and she likes Tuna, potentially more than she likes people. Not eating them. Talking to them. Not the tuna. The people. She eats the tuna; she talks to the people. And she likes the former more than the latter. Oh, and she also says you absolutely can't have her bow because she needs it as a good luck charm for the upcoming test—and every test after that."

"How'd the bow even come up?" Jaune squinted at him.

"Nora wanted to see how I'd look wearing it."

Jaune gave the effeminate boy a quick one over. It probably wouldn't look bad. Jaune preferred to look rugged. But girls dug the metrosexual thing too. Sounded like this Nora chick did.

"You could pull it off with a ponytail. You'd have to grow your hair out though."

"Hmm maybe. I've already spotted two other ponytail characters though. So, it's a no for now." Ren pulled the pink streak in his hair to the front of his face. "Maybe if one of them gets killed off I'll bring it out."

"Killed off?" repeated Jaune.

"You know, Grimm, rogue huntsmen, dust accidents, abusive parents, final bosses…plot. This is hunter school. There are all kinds of interesting ways to kill off characters. Although killing characters for the conveniences of plot—just to complete alternate character arcs is the worst… But this is a school setting, some characters are going to be static and flat and they're going to die. That's just how it works. The secret to avoiding the sadness is to not get attached to characters that are obviously just fodder for—"

"Ren," Jaune interrupted.

"Yes?" replied Ren.

"Do you have anything else for me on the Blake situation?"

"No, not really. She was worried about this upcoming test. She said she has a lot of practical experience but doesn't know much about the 'right' way to kill Grimm."

So, she was worried about this test. Huh. He could use that.

Jaune spun on his heel. Over his shoulder he said, "Ren, I see your value now."

"That's the nicest thing anyone other than Nora has ever said to me," Ren called out after him.

"Marry that girl!" shouted Jaune, not looking back.

###

"No…no…ah." Jaune stopped at the door with the placard labeled 'Bartholomew Oobleck PhD'

Jaune knocked on the door twice before trying the handle. It was unlocked.

"I'm busy," called the man inside.

Jaune pushed the door open.

"I said I'm…" Bartholomew trailed off when he spotted Jaune. The relic, or antique, or rock, or whatever was in his hand fell to the ground, shattering. "Damn it!" he cried. Oobleck dropped to his hands and knees gathering as many of the shards as he could.

Jaune watched the spectacled man with a mixture dispassion and amusement. Oobleck had always been like this. It didn't matter whether he was handling a priceless artifact at the Vale Museum of Prehistoric History or a gravy dish at an Arc holiday party.

The man was jumpy.

He claimed he didn't scare easy. He claimed he was a great hunter and explorer. He claimed he was only nervous around the 'goddamn' Arc children—he claimed it was all the fault of one member of the Arc brood in particular.

But come on.

Who believed that?

Had the 'great hunter and explorer' been that scarred by one little girl? Nah. This guy was a pushover. Which was exactly what Jaune needed right now.

"Can't believe you've still got a job here after deflowering a student."

Oobleck stood, dumping the fragments of, what appeared to have once been an ornamental egg, onto his desk. He took a moment to compose himself, before addressing Jaune. "Did s-she send you? Are you here to keep spreading that lie?"

"Alana? No. She's still up in the mountains. Says she's putting herself through the bride training from hell."

"bride training from hell…" Oobleck returned to his chair. "What the hell is that even…?"

"She says it's to punish herself for getting you in trouble."

"Oh?" said Oobleck, sounding genuinely surprised. "She could have just apologized."

"She says the next time she sees you she will apologize—with her body."

Oobleck's eyebrow twitched above his glasses. "What?"

"That's the other part of her training," said Jaune. "She says you're quick when you've got some coffee in you. She wants to make herself just as fast, so that you can't escape her apology—like last time."

"But…but…" Oobleck's voice dropped. "Speed is my last defense."

Jaune had never heard a voice so broken, so distraught. Poor Uncle Bart. Alana was a force of nature, that was for sure. She'd always terrified Jaune into doing whatever she wanted when they were kids. Jaune was sure that pattern would have continued if they still saw each other often. But between his job and her…obsession with Bartholomew Oobleck they both kept busy. Their paths hadn't crossed in a year or so.

"You know Unc, most forty-something bachelors would jump at the chance to marry a beautiful twenty-two-year-old."

"I babysat her two decades ago!" exclaimed Oobleck.

"Oh, it's creepy and desperate looking as hell, for sure. But at least your in-laws know you had literally no other option."

"If you all know she is hounding me why don't you—"

"Stop her?" Jaune laughed. "Stop Alana?" He laughed some more. "I don't remember you being so funny Unc."

Oobleck gripped his own hair tightly, staring down at the broken egg on his desk. "What are you doing here Jaune? Don't you have a shoot or something?"

"Ah," began Jaune. He looked around Oobleck's office. Artifacts, documents, and books were strewn about in everywhere. There was just enough space to sit on the arm of his sofa. "Well, I wanted to say hi, so you won't be surprised when I'm in your class tomorrow."

Oobleck looked up. "Why would you be in my class tomorrow?"

"I'm a student."

Oobleck's jaw unhinged. "What?"

"Had a bit of trouble at work," explained Jaune. "I may have…exaggerated some of my hunting credentials."

Oobleck's head tilted to the left.

Behind those bifocals he was probably squinting.

"Why does a fashion label care whether you are an actual hunter?"

Jaune rolled his eyes. Good question. "Apparently, La Hunt targets huntsman and huntress fashion because huntsmen and huntresses set fashion trends among civilians," replied Jaune. "But the funny thing about huntsmen and huntresses…it that they only take fashion input from themselves—and occasionally other huntsmen and huntresses. So, it's very important to the magazine that all their models be verified hunters."

"Weren't your covers some of the best-selling? And you said you single handedly saved the fur underwear market." asked Oobleck.

"We don't talk about the fur underwear Unc. Sure, it's a multi-million Lien industry now, and some would say that's mostly thanks to Jaune Arc. Others would say that's entirely thanks to Jaune Arc. But we don't talk about it."

"Well, O savior of the fur underwear industry, what tipped off your employer that you were lying?"

"They wanted to show some authentic huntsman action. So…they gave me a real sword and brought an Ursa to the shoot."

"How'd that go down?"

They had told him to act natural. To swing the sword as if it was an extension of his body. To wield the blade just like he would when he was fighting the enemies of man. Then they surprised him by releasing a real Grimm.

"I chucked the sword at it and ran."

"I see how that could raise some questions."

"Right?" said Jaune, "they told me if I do well here, get all 'A's', I could get back to work after a year or two. At first, I was going to tell them where they could shove that offer. Plenty of other Grimm in the forest you know? But then I realized no one's paying as much as La Hunt—no one. So here I am."

Oobleck leaned back in his seat. "I must say, it is not an inspiring journey."

"No. It's not. But they are paying for school, room, and board. So, I'm choosing to look at it as a vacation."

Oobleck smiled. "I admire your positive attitude Jaune. I really do. And I am ecstatic that you are continuing your education—despite the circumstances. But I'm afraid you may be underestimating Beacon. Succeeding here will require hard work, dedication, and a willingness to learn. Of course, as your professor, I will be here for you every step of the way. A guide in the forest. A torch in the cave. A pirate in the—"

"I am so happy to hear that Unc. I mean, I could have gone to any combat school. I chose Beacon because you're here."

"Flattered."

"You should be. What other man could provide me with academic guidance…moral support…every answer to every test for every one of my classes…"

Oobleck nodded along with him until he got to the end.

Jaune stood, approaching his adopted uncle's desk. He fished a sheet of paper from his pocket, listing all his courses for the semester.

"Jaune, if you expect me to throw away my integrity—"

Jaune held up his scroll, silencing the professor. "Hold on Unc, I know nothing's for free and everything's for sale."

"My in—"

"Hold on Unc."

When Jaune was satisfied that his uncle would allow him to complete his spiel he continued. "Now I could—threaten to send a message to Alana, telling her that you've found another woman."

Oobleck's pale complexion dropped a few shades paler.

"I could tell her that, not only have you found a woman, you found a woman her age. Imagine how she'd feel about that after all those times you told her, 'you're just too young for me.'"

Oobleck flinched. It was a small facial tick but Jaune spotted it. That meant he was on the right track.

"W-well…"

"I could do those things Unc. But I prefer to build my business relationships on mutual benefits."

"Benefits…?" said Oobleck, clearly relieved by the change in tone.

"Yeah, you give up a little of your integrity. And I help you avoid having everything else taken by Alana."

Oobleck gripped his hands, placing them on the desk, leaning forward. "Is that within your power?"

"Stopping her? No. The only one who can stop her is my mother, and she says…" Jaune imitated his mother's higher voice, "if it's love its love. Make him yours honey." He returned to his normal pitch. "So that's that. But I can give you a leg up. I can be your eyes and ears. I can help you when she comes here—and make no mistake—she is coming here."

Oobleck remained silent for several moments after Jaune's offer. The man was teetering, Jaune could see it. His eyes were obscured by his thick glasses but his body language was indication enough. The man sighed, reaching for his thermos. The smell of coffee escaped when he popped the top open. He took a few sips.

"Jaune, I ca—"

"You know," Jaune interrupted. "When Alana graduated from here, first thing she told us was that you guys' first child was going to be conceived on your desk, in your classroom."

Oobleck swallowed, loud enough for Jaune to hear. And he hadn't taken a sip of coffee.

He had him.

The cornered professor picked up Jaune's paper, glancing over it. "I will look into it."

Jaune knocked on his uncle's desk twice and went for the door. "You're the best Unc."

###

"Hey there," greeted Jaune.

The girl—Blake was it?—glanced up at him with a piercing gaze.

Her amber eyes were unlike any Jaune had ever seen. He was accustomed to working around good-looking women—it was a side effect of being a successful model—but this girl was something else. Like most huntresses, she had the body of a model. But she also had the looks—which was a bit rarer. And then there was this entire aura of mystery surrounding her. Something about her just screamed, femme fatale.

Somehow, she made sitting alone in a cafeteria look sexy.

The silence grew awkward as she continued to stare at him wordlessly.

Jaune tried again with some small talk. "Pretty crazy huh? None of us first-years getting assigned to teams yet?"

Blake regarded him a moment longer before returning her attention to her open text-book. "Don't hit on me."

A reaction. Not the best reaction. But that could come later. He sat down across from her. "I wouldn't dream of it. I just noticed you're in my class and I wanted to let you know about my Grimm-studies study group."

Blake looked up from her book again, eyes narrowed. "The guy who spent yesterday's class reading comic books and listening to music has a study group. Is there a waiting list?"

"Oh, so you noticed me?" asked Jaune, giving her an easy smile.

"I could hear your music."

Jaune's smile transformed into a smirk. Oh, she was into him. You'd need supersonic hearing to pick up music playing from his Beats by Prey. She must have been looking, looking hard.

"I wasn't paying attention because I already know the material." BS. "I come from a huntsman family." Well, that was true. "My dad taught me this stuff when I was eight." At least, the man tried. Jaune hadn't been much for listening.

"Really?" said Blake. "How would you kill this Grimm?"

Jaune glanced at the illustration she was pointing at. Her other hand—and damn! She had some beautiful hands—covered the description below.

Jaune struggled to maintain his easy smile.

Jaune was familiar with Grimm. He wasn't a hunter—he wouldn't be here if he was—but between his uncle, his dad, and his habit of pretending to be a twenty-three-year-old professional hunter, he knew a bit. He knew Beowolves. He knew Ursas. He knew Nevermores and Griffins. And a couple of others. He wasn't sure how to kill them…but he'd heard stories from other hunters. He had some idea how a sniper would take out a Nevermore's wing ligaments and how a brawler would bait them down.

But…

Jaune squinted at the picture a little harder.

What the hell was that?

If there was one thing Jaune knew about killing Grimm, it was "avoid the white parts." The teeth would grind your bones. The claws would tear your flesh. The armor would deflect your blade.

But this Grim was all white. It was a ball of bone, sharp spikes protruding sporadically. A pair of beady red eyes peered out from a gap in the deadly shell. Did this thing roll to move? Jaune imagined fleeing from the ball of death through a dark forest.

It was a terrifying thought.

"Unreal," Jaune muttered.

"Hmph," said Blake grudgingly. "Maybe you know something after all."

"Obviously," replied Jaune, thinking she was referring to his general sense of awe.

Blake removed her hand, revealing the caption beneath the image. "A beast of legend and myth, the Cloyster's existence has never been confirmed. There have been sightings throughout the years. The most reliable description of this mythical Grimm can be found in the journal of Erza Night-wind—leader of the furthest excursion into Grimm territory. The sole survivor of the expedition, her vocal cords were irrevocably damaged. Erza allowed her journals to speak for themselves—never confirming or denying their content before death."

Ah. When he said unreal…she thought…well wasn't that almost too perfect?

"My name's Jaune by the way. The group meets at four, in the big private room in the library."

Blake stood up without warning. She tucked her textbook into the satchel at her side. "Blake. Maybe I'll see you there." Her hard gaze softened—but only a bit—"Thanks, either way."

Sheesh, those were some piercing eyes. "No problem."

Jaune watched the girl walk away, hips swaying. The lean muscles in her lower back flexed and contracted with every step.

Dear god.

Had he looked a little too long?

He knew the answer to that question was "yes." But that didn't give him the willpower to look away.

He managed to wrench his eyes in the opposite direction once his soon-to-be girlfriend exited the cafeteria. That wasn't creepy. He was just walking her out—with his eyes. No big deal.

Jaune glanced down at his watch. It was twelve-thirty.

###

Jaune stuck his tongue out, focusing on the textbook before him. A Comprehensive Look at Grimm and other Creatures of Darkness—it was a thick book but it wasn't too heavy…

So why was this so hard? The book flew from his hand. He could do it with a ball so why couldn't he spin a book on his finger? He'd seen some other a-hole in the library doing it.

So why couldn't he!?

God, life was unfair.

His next attempt nearly resulted in the loss of an eye.

"Glad to see you're hard at work."

Jaune jumped. Not a lot. But enough to show his surprise. Damn! That girl was quiet as a shadow. He recovered quickly, beaming.

"Blake, you made it!"

Blake surveyed the private study room.

Jaune did the same, it was spacious and bare. There were some bookshelves, a computer, and two large rectangular tables pushed parallel to one another.

Blake approached the seat on Jaune's right.

Jaune watched her. "So, Blake, first one here, tell me a little about yourself."

"Not much to tell. I'm just your average student, can't wait to be a huntress."

Jaune loved the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. Was she here for some reason aside from a desperate desire to throw her life away in battle against massive monsters? Jaune sure as hell was.

"You know," Blake continued in a new direction, "I was suspicious at first."

"Of?" asked Jaune, using his best approximation of the "innocent voice" he had learned from his sister, Cece.

"You, obviously. I thought you were just trying to get into my pants."

"What?" asked Jaune, voice laden with fake indignation. Hers was a ridiculous accusation. He wouldn't mind trying out a relationship too!

"But when I asked one of our classmates if you were just B.S.-ing this entire study group deal he said he was coming too."

"What?" asked Jaune, for real this time.

"He also vouched for you. Said the two of you were close friends."

Close friends? Close friends? Oh goddamnit.

Jaune produced a tattered notebook and a pen. He slid them both towards Blake. Afterwards he coughed in his hand several times. "You know, looks like the rest of the group is running late, and I think I'm coming down with something—so I don't really know how long I'll be able to stick around today. If you just put your contact info down we can make sure all this planning isn't wasted and—"

Jaune came to an abrupt halt when a hand came to rest on his forehead. Blake, the girl whose hands he wanted on him, was nowhere near him. So, who the hell was this?

It was a woman's hand. Of that he was sure. It had to be, the palm was soft, the touch light, and there was a pleasant fragrance too.

Cobalt eyes met magenta.

Shit.

It was Ren. Simple mistake. Anyone could have made it. The guy just had girl hands.

Rather than jerking his head away from Ren's shockingly smooth touch he looked a little past him, at the pink haired girl who had a hold on Ren's wrist, forcing the contact between the two of them."

"Sorry," said the girl, looking at Jaune with, what looked like, genuine apology.

Huh. She still hadn't dropped Ren's hand…but maybe she wasn't so bad. Jaune wasn't the type to ignore a heartfelt apology.

"I'd use my own hand," continued the girl, her voice a vat of energy, bubbling over. "but Renny's better at this sort of thing!"

Huh. Wasn't exactly what Jaune had thought she was apologizing for.

"So, Ren Ranger?"

"He doesn't feel particularly feverish," reported Ren.

"We don't want to know if he feels feverish Ren-a-tin-tin. We want to know if he has a fever!"

"I understand Nora. I just—"

"Can't get a good reading with his forehead? I told you the best way to tell temperature is under the tongue!" She turned to Jaune. "Open your mouth."

Right, so this was Nora, how appropriately terrifying. Jaune inched away from Ren's hand. "That won't be necessary. I just have a headache, no need to find a thermometer."

"Who said anything about a thermometer?" asked Nora.

Right. Okay. This girl was a problem.

Ren pulled his arm from Nora's grasp. "Sorry Jaune. Nora's an odd one."

The boy sniffed. Suddenly his nose was a few inches away from Jaune's collar. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"No," Jaune deadpanned. He glanced at Blake, desperate to somehow salvage this entire situation. "I'll get you two's contact information after Blake finishes putting hers down."

"Ren," greeted Blake.

Jaune groaned silently, as Blake ignored his notepad, shooting a Ren a small smile. It was the first he'd seen of her teeth.

She had some sharp canines.

"Blake?" said Ren, seemingly confused by her salutation.

"Yes?" replied Blake.

"I don't know, you called me first."

"Oh," she smiled again. "I was just saying hello."

Jaune watched the exchange with something akin to disbelief. He hadn't managed to make the corner of Blake's mouth so much as twitch. How had Ren managed to put her at ease in four seconds flat?"

"Oh, I see, the intonation of my name indicated it was a greeting. I missed that. My bad."

Did Blake's smile just get bigger?

The dark-haired beauty pulled out the chair to her left with her smooth leg. "Why don't you sit down—both of you?"

Her eyes flicked from Ren to Nora.

Nora looked at her too.

Intently.

If the frown on her face was any indication, she'd forgotten all about her intent to shove Ren's fingers in Jaune's mouth. Jaune was gladdened by that but…

The intensity in the eyes now trained on Blake was a little terrifying.

Ren accepted Blake's offer to sit, somehow oblivious to the terror surrounding him.

Jaune watched Nora shuffle around Blake and then Ren, arriving on Ren's left, never taking her eyes off Blake. She pushed her chair a few feet further down the table. Then she dragged Ren's chair to her new position, a near table length away from Blake.

Ren's expression didn't change once through all this.

It must have already become commonplace.

That done, her smile and energy returned in force. "So, what are we studying!?"

Jaune tried to reply, "You don't kn—"

He was interrupted by a panting voice.

Great, more people.

"Sorry, huff, I'm late. Huff. I was swarmed by a mob of…" She trailed off when her emerald eyes met Jaune's.

The red head huh? He had noticed her in class—how could he not? He had thought she looked familiar but then he'd noticed Blake and that was that. But now that she was right here in front of him…

"Cereal girl!" he shouted.

"Jaune Arc?" she replied.

"You know him already Pyrrha?" asked Nora.

"Yes," said Pyrrha, eyes wide, and lips parted. She looked a little shell-shocked. "We met at a sh…"

She halted when she noticed Jaune's wide eyes and subtle head shaking.

"…owing. We met at a school showing."

"You mean a tour?" asked Blake.

"Yes. A tour," agree Pyrrha. "We met at a tour of the school."

Jaune released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He noticed Blake squinting at him. But there was nothing he was willing to do to allay those suspicions.

"Pyrrha is our roommate," explained Ren. "We invited her."

Jaune smiled at the new girl. It was probably his most genuine smile of the day. She was quick on the uptake and seemed normal.

Most important was that, if he remembered their conversation at the Pumpkin Pete's shoot correctly, she was a world-class fighter back in Mistral. All hope wasn't lost for his chances with Blake. He could let Pyrrha take care of the studying portion of this study group, meanwhile he could focus on getting closer to his Noir goddess.

All without letting Blake suspect that Jaune knew nothing about killing Grimm.

After all, he'd claimed to know some stuff, but it'd be perfectly reasonable for him to bow out to an expert.

It was perfect.

"The more the merrier," said Jaune.

Pyrrha's smile could have been mounted on the front of a car as headlight.

"Hear that Rubes? He said the more the merrier. Stop being so nervous."

Jaune's eyebrow twitched.

Was that…?

It couldn't be…

But it certainly sounded like it.

Was that another person?

"Yang!"

Scratch that. Two people.

It was two people.

"You know I'm not good with—ooh! There's Weiss I'm gonna go grab her!"

"Come on Ruby, there's no way you're going to get her in here."

"That's not true Yang, I think I already understand how to talk to her."

"Ruby!"

"Be back in a second Yang!"

Jaune watched the door with a sense of inevitability. In walked, who Jaune assumed to be, Yang.

Whoa.

It'd been a while since he'd seen a girl with a figure exactly like his sister Crystal. More muscles and curves than Jaune knew what to do with. The perfect mixture of huntress and woman. Where was he even supposed to look?

Yang brushed, what appeared to be, rose petals from her long golden hair. "Hi! I'm Yang, we saw the flyers?"

Flyers.

Flyers?

Flyers?

"I told you throwing them off the roof would work Ren," said Nora, "They do it in the movies all the time!"

Of course.

"My sister is here with me too—well she was—but she ran off to get the princess." Yang grinned wryly.

"Not the prince?" asked Pyrrha.

"You got something against lesbians?" asked Yang, suddenly dead serious.

"What?" asked Pyrrha, voice horrified. "No! I was just trying to be…I didn't know your sister was—"

"She's not!" Suddenly Yang was smiling all over again. "I was just messing with you! I do that! You'll get used to it."

Jaune really hoped he didn't. The room was filling with beautiful women, some men would be envious Jaune. But Jaune knew the truth, each new addition widened his options but shortened his reach. How was he supposed to work on Blake when there was this many distraction?

Yang stretched, revealing a sea of midriff.

Then again, distractions weren't all bad. He was an adult. He could reason around them. Appreciate them when he had time to appreciate them. It'd be fine. He just had to avoid getting caught looking.

"My eyes are up here girly."

Jaune lurched in his seat. Had he been found out already? And "girly?"

Oh, she wasn't talking to him. She was talking to Nora. Who, at some point, had stood and began to circle Yang, thoroughly looking her over.

"I like your outfit," Nora said, finally.

"Thanks," said Yang "You look pretty great yourself."

Nora pulled out the chair to Jaune's immediate right. "Welcome to the study-group!"

Jaune glanced from the seat to Ren's current location. Furthest possible distance huh?

Jaune's scroll vibrated in his pocket. A message. And from Oobleck. Jaune scanned the contents.

He loved it when a plan came together.

"Who's that?" questioned Blake.

"My uncle," said Jaune, seeing no reason to lie. He stood. "I have to make a call. I'll be back in five. Have you all ever heard of a Cloyster? Discuss."

He exited the private-study-room, unsure if he had any intention of returning. On the one hand, if he made up a viable excuse Blake probably wouldn't be too angry about him bailing. On the other hand, it'd still be a major setback.

He headed for the library's exit.

Maybe he could…

He was so lost in his thoughts he just barely managed to sidestep two petite girls, one dressed in red, the other white. He picked up the last few sentences of their conversation.

"Well…if you'll be that lost without me. I suppose I can join," said one.

"Thank you so much Weiss! I told Yang we could be friends if you're feeling charitable!" said the other.

Jaune slowed and pretended to look over the books on a nearby shelf.

"Who said anything about being friends!"

"We can't be friends…even just as charity?" the other girl sounded as if she was about to cry. Jaune had heard that tone a million times from his younger sisters, especially Cece. He could resist. Now. Sometimes. When he wanted to. But he didn't want to all that often.

But he could!

This Weiss girl sounded as if she was more accustomed to wheedling, negotiation, and deceit than giant watery eyes. She'd buckle like a paper wall.

"Well…that…"

"I'll be the best, most loyal friend ever. And I won't ever blow us up again I swear."

"I almost forgot about that," said the prissy one.

Oof. Jaune winced. That was a mistake. He had a sister like this Weiss. The number one rule of placating her was to never remind her of why she was so furious in the first place.

Fortunately, there was still a way out for the goddamn hero trying to befriend this frigid jerk.

"I'm still really sorry about that…"

"Sorry doesn't—"

"Pay for all that dust, I know. And I don't know if I'll ever have 15,000 Lien to pay you back. I was just thinking if you'd be my friend maybe stuff like that wouldn't happen anymore because—you know—you could teach me how to be more like you…"

Jaune would have broken into applause if he wasn't certain that would ruin everything. Turn yourself into a girl like that's project and she'd probably make you her daughter.

"I guess that's crazy though…how could I ever be—"

"Shutup dolt!" snapped Weiss. Quieter she said, "we'll turn you into a proper huntress yet."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Weiss!"

Jaune placed his cover back on the shelf and headed for the library exit. It was nice to watch that story have a happy ending.

Now if only the same thing would happen in that study room…

###

Jaune met Oobleck in front of the giant golden statue—which may or may not have been in the image of a long-dead Arc.

Jaune's father had mentioned that, around the world, there were several monuments set up in appreciation of the Arc line. Jaune, however, had not bothered to memorize the locations.

Beacon could have been one of them.

Could.

But Jaune wasn't sure.

Yellow pieces of paper flew about the windy courtyard, littering the usually pristine campus with garbage. Jaune had snagged one on his way to the meeting. It advertised a Grimm studies study group in the library.

Because of course it did.

"Listen Jaune, I'm only doing this because of the dire straits your sister has placed me in."

"Uh-huh," said Jaune eyes trained on the yellow folder in Oobleck's hand.

"You realize that as a student here Alana placed me in an uncountable number of compromising positions, including, but not limited to, locking us together in a closet and hiding the key…on her person, creating explicit writings featuring the two of us, clinging to me in public, sitting in my lap whenever I didn't have the presence of mind to escape, forcibly kissing me, binding me and subjecting me to all manner of…" Unc trailed of.

"Carnal temptation?"

"Yes…that is precisely what I was going to say. How'd you know?"

"She calls it that too, the second phase. Carnal pleasure is the third."

Oobleck's face turned a few shades redder. He looked down at the yellow envelope in his hands. "You know what Jaune, maybe I should just…"

"Don't second guess yourself Unc." Jaune reached for the package. "Alana was just playing games with you when she was a student. Next time she comes for you she'll be serious. You either cut a deal—or buy yourself a whistle. But I promise you that whistle's not gonna help when she comes. She'll probably just use it to set the pace."

"Set the p-pace!?" Oobleck stuttered.

Jaune snatched the envelope from Oobleck's hand. Normally the man would have been more than fast enough to avoid the motion. But, at the moment, his whole body was rigid and tense.

"Wait Jaune!" Oobleck called out as Jaune walked away.

"I'll talk to you later Unc! I've got people waiting on me."

That was true. What was less certain was whether Jaune would return to that mess in the library. He had the answers—the rest of the semester promised to be an easy one…

Perhaps he should count his blessings and practice some gratitude.

A day could only have so many wins after all.

Somehow, despite his negative train of thought, Jaune still wound up heading towards the library. He stopped at the place's entrance. He drummed his fingers against the yellow envelope in his hand.

To go in…or not to go in…that was the question.

He was leaning towards not.

That was, until a voice spoke from behind.

"You're back."

Jaune whirled. It was Blake.

The fortune gods really were smiling on him today.

"You're not with the rest of the group," noted Jaune.

"I was fixing my hair," said Blake.

"You look great," Jaune complimented. And she did. She really did. Although, she also looked no different than the last time he had seen her. But did that really matter?

Blake ignored his flattery with a rough exhale. "Things got crazy after you left. You said five minutes."

Jaune glanced at his watch. Twenty or so minutes had passed. "Miss me?"

"It is your study group. I expect you to call it to order."

"Here's an idea," hedged Jaune, "how about we ditch the mess in the library, head into Vale, and have our own study session there?"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Is that a joke?"

"Obviously," said Jaune. "Who would think what's about to happen in that library will be anything but a…raging success?"

Blake sighed. "Honestly, the group has picked up some less savory elements. Especially since you left. I would not be opposed to another study group—with only the desirables. Me…Ren…"

No new names were forthcoming after that. Jaune might have been more annoyed, if he hadn't been acutely aware of how unlikely anything happening between Blake and Ren. He'd seen girls like Nora before. He'd watched them relentlessly pursue middle aged family friends. Murder was never out of the question.

"How about the guy who actually knows about Grim? Or do you no longer need his help in Ren studies?" prompted Jaune.

Blake shrugged. "Well...if he insists on being an extra wheel."

"Well you, Ren—and I hope you haven't forgotten to add Nora—plus me makes a car. Wouldn't you rather be a car than a tricycle?"

"More like a bike with training wheels," muttered Blake, quieter than her usual voice, but certainly not so quiet that she didn't intend for Jaune to hear her. Louder Blake said, "Come on, first we study. Then maybe I'll take you out for dinner as a consolation prize for myself."

Well…that was something. God. Why did everyone in this school need to be so goddamn attractive and fit? Jaune was a model. He took care of himself. He should stand out.

Jaune reluctantly followed Blake back to the study room.

The girl froze just before the entrance and released, what could only be described as, a hiss. "I forgot she was here."

Jaune peered around Blake, into the study room. There was Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, Yang, and two new girls…oh red and white! Names, names…Weiss and…the red was seated next to Yang, talking to her happily—so perhaps that was her little sister…Ruby was it? They didn't look all that similar, but maybe she was adopted or something. Who knew? The third newcomer was even more off-putting than the rest.

Was that their professor?

Their Grimm studies professor!? The man was guffawing loudly, his ample stomach shook with each heaving laugh. Yep, Peter Port was attending their study group.

Why?

Jaune hadn't the slightest idea.

Blake spun on her heels. "I changed my mind Jaune, let's go to dinner right now."

Jaune tried not to cheer.

For some reason, the rest of the chatter in the study room died down, allowing one clear, high voice to speak above the rest. "Professor, I'm shocked our Grimm studies text does not include more information on the White Fang—aren't they just as great a plague on humanity?"

Blake screeched to a halt mid-step. It took Jaune a few more steps to realize she had stopped. "Blake…?"

She was already on her way into the study room. "Schnee," she roared.

Weiss turned towards her, face already locked in a fierce scowl.

Jaune groaned as he watched Blake. Cut his losses, or go for broke?

He followed Blake in.

"Jaune!" cheered Ren. "I got everyone's contact info while you were gone." Ren waved his notebook as he approached. Jaune accepted back his pad, glancing down the list of names and scroll numbers. Everyone.

Except Blake.

Of course.

Weiss Schnee?

Uh-oh.

He looked up at the white-haired girl seated next to Ruby.

She hadn't seemed so bad from his vantage point behind the shelf—but she was an elite nonetheless.

Jaune had brushed shoulders with elites at parties and events for advertising shoots. They tended to view people as objects and ruin careers on the flip of a coin. His friend had slept with a CEO's daughter, and his work dried up overnight.

Literally, one night.

He was probably lucky he hadn't disappeared, never to be seen again.

It'd be best to tread lightly here. For all their sakes.

"Can I help you?" said Weiss, after she and Blake had concluded the silent portion of their intense staring contest.

"Me? Can you help me? Before you help me, how about the starving Faunus in your mines?"

Oh…hell no.

Weiss's scowl transformed into pure rage.

Ruby subtly scooted a couple of inches away from the girl she had just tricked into becoming her friend.

Weiss stood, stamping over to Blake. She was shorter, but that didn't stop the small heiress from looming.

"The Schnee Dust Company…"

Jaune tuned out the rest. Might as well gauge the other members.

Ren returned to his seat by Nora. Nora resumed braiding his hair. Pyrrha looked…well she looked happy, inordinately so. When she noticed him looking, she flinched and looked away.

Okay.

Then there was Professor Port. He was talking to…well…everyone it looked like, but no one was listening. He was telling the same kind of story he wasted their time with in class, a pointless tale, with little to no bearing on their reading.

Ruby was reaching towards Weiss face full of uncertainty.

Yang was studying the people in the room, much like him. When their eyes met she raised an eyebrow and offered him a small smile.

Huh. Maybe he'd been a little to fixated on this entire Blake-is-my-perfect-woman thing. People made mistakes, right?

"Jaune!"

Jaune was dragged from his thoughts by Ren.

"It's time."

"What?"

"As the Ensemble Darkhorse turned lead protagonist it's your character's job to unite us."

"My character's job?" repeated Jaune, confused.

"Everyone!" cried Ren. No one paid him any mind.

And then Nora repeated him. Only she bellowed it with the force of a train whistle.

Even Blake and Weiss went quiet, turning towards the girl.

"Ren-ten is trying to say something."

"Thank you, Nora." Ren turned from his best-friend, back to Jaune.

Jaune clenched his teeth.

Don't do it, bastard.

"Jaune has some words of wisdom to share with us."

Damn it all.

Every eye in the room turned towards him. Jaune cleared his throat. What the hell did Ren expect him to say? He was a model with some acting experience—not a goddamn mediator. "Thanks Ren." He smiled. He wondered if it looked as fake as it felt.

"You're welcome Jaune."

Damn him to hell. "Why don't you two sit down?" He motioned Weiss and Blake to the empty seats.

"With her?" Weiss scoffed, "not in a millennium."

"I can't stand to be in a room with this monster a moment longer," said Blake.

"You—"

Jaune cut off Weiss's reply. "This is a study group. If you have no intention of studying then just leave. But know this. Whoever leaves first, pretty much… lost."

Jaune turned back to the rest of the seated group. "Listen guys, as far as I know, the reason we're all here is to study for this Grimm studies class," he squinted at Professor Port, "and maybe you're here to help us?"

"Not exactly my boy! But more on that later! Continue your speech, it's off to a great start!"

"Right," continued Jaune. "I don't really have a fancy speech or anything, just…let's just try to leave our issues at the door and do our best to get along with each other. I know most of us our strangers. And obviously…strangers have differences. What you have to remember is, so do friends. Friends and strangers both have differences! Tons of them. That's why strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. So next time you attack someone because of their family…" He looked at Blake pointedly. She did not avoid his gaze, nor did the smoldering anger in her eyes dampen. "Or get super defensive about your family's, obviously, sketchy business practices…"

"Hey!" exclaimed Weiss.

"…just remember that the person you're screaming at, tearing into, and trying to mentally destroy—could very well be your friend a month from now."

"Will we really all be friends a month from now?" asked Ren.

Nora answered before Jaune could. She stroked Ren's arm as she spoke. "You can be friends with Jauney Ren. And the professor. And Ruby. And…" she spared her roommate a hesitant glance. Pyrrha lifted her hands as far away from Ren as she could possibly place them, as if to say she knew her place. "Pyrrha ought to be fine too." Nora's face hardened. "The rest of these sluts though…"

She gave Blake an especially long look.

Blake was too busy glaring at Weiss to notice the murderous eyes fixed on her.

"So," said Jaune, "moment of truth. Are one or both of you going to leave? Or are you both going to stay?"

Begrudgingly Weiss and Blake both took a seat.

"Well there you have it folks. We're not just a study group anymore. And the school still hasn't assigned us to teams so we don't have those either. But we just became something better—something more powerful than a group that does homework together or a thrown together monster hunting party."

"What have we become?" asked Ruby excitedly.

"What have we become…? What…have…we…become?" Jaune stalled as he racked his brain for an answer. "We have become a community."

"A community?" repeated Ruby slowly, as if in awe of the word.

"Yes. A community. A group of people who stick by each other through thick and thin. They don't need to like each other. They barely even need to tolerate each other. They just need to stay together no matter what. It's like a family—only with people you've never met before."

Jaune's closing remarks were met with silence—until Nora began to applaud. She and Ren were looking at each other curiously. "I like the sound of this community thing."

It was the least insane thing the carrot-topped girl had said all day.

"Hear that Weiss! We're gonna be in a community together!" Ruby cheered.

"Yes, well, I suppose I don't mind being in community with you Rose." She glanced at Blake. "There are, however, less tolerable elements."

Blake met Weiss's eyes with some heat of her own and then turned towards Jaune. She was clearly pissed for the inch of a step he had taken onto Weiss's side, despite that he had done the same with hers. "Well, if we're going to be a community, some ground rules are in order, right? I say since we're like a family, no romantic or sexual relationships among group members. How's that sound Jaune? Everyone?"

Whelp. He'd been seen through.

"Makes sense to me," said Yang.

"I wasn't planning on it anyway," said Ruby.

"Hmph," said Weiss."

"W-well, if that's what everyone thinks is best," said Pyrrha.

"Ren and Nora agree!" said Nora.

Port chuckled. "Ah, the flames of youth."

Jaune quickly reviewed what this study group had so far accomplished. He'd given Blake a bad impression. Wasted time and brainpower. Was somehow becoming the unwilling leader of this band of misfits. And now it had somehow put all of the hottest first years off-limits."

Screw that.

"Anyway, I hope you guys figure it out. I'm just going to study alone."

He grabbed his notepad of phone numbers and his envelope.

Sure, things hadn't gone well on this front, but at least the day wasn't a total wash. He had some phone numbers and he had the answers to every test. He was good to go.

"What?" cried Ruby. "You're leaving already? Our family is already getting broken up? The dad is leaving?"

Jaune couldn't let that one go unchallenged. "I am not the dad."

"No, you're just the sperm-donor," corrected Yang. "Since you are literally leaving your family at conception."

"You hit the nail right on the head Yang, Jaune was willing to impregnate all of us, against our wills, and now he's refusing to take care of the children."

"Okay." Jaune rubbed his temples. "That metaphor just took a dark twist."

Blake continued unperturbed. "Jaune doesn't even need to study for this class. He already knows the material because he comes from a long line of hunters. He started this whole thing just to get into my pants."

"Hey!" complained Jaune. "Don't make me sound like a scumbag when I'm just a skilled manipulator. I wasn't trying to get into your pants, I just wanted to have a sneaky date. You're the one who ruined it by inviting Ren."

"I would just like to point out," began Ren, "that Blake did not invite me. You did Jaune, when you accepted my friendship you, essentially, invited me into every aspect of your life both personal and public from now until death."

"I did what?"

Blake continued speaking, "the point is you're a liar. You have no interest in helping anyone in this group study."

"I can't help anyone in this group study! I was lying about knowing anything about killing Grimm! I'm a goddamn model for crying out loud! I can't help any of you study! But look-there, you've got the professor of the goddamn class right there. Ask him to teach you from the textbook during study group instead of telling you those obnoxious stories and maybe you'll learn something from him!"

"Actually," said Port, voice brimming with confidence. "I'm here to learn as well."

Every eye in the room turned towards the rotund man.

"Huh?" said Jaune, dumbly.

"I don't know anything in the class text. And since the tests are on the class text and I have to grade them I thought—"

"You don't know the text!?" screeched Weiss.

"Well," began Port, with just a hint of defensiveness. "I've just always been so good at killing Grimm. It comes so naturally that I never really paid much attention to how I should kill them or how they operate. I just…did it."

Jaune stared at his professor for a few seconds, searching for some hint of this all being a joke.

It wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm out," said Jaune, moving towards the exit.

"You would be," muttered Blake. "A coward and a liar—what a surprise."

Jaune should have let it go. He should have kept walking. But he couldn't resist turning and throwing one last challenge. "I lied a little okay? I don't know how this all got so blown out of proportion! And just so you know I come from a world where the ability to trick people and get what you want is a boon okay! It's a boon! That boon is why, while the rest of you are struggling to figure out what's on a test where even the teacher doesn't know what's happening, I'm going home to memorize the answers!"

He smacked his yellow envelope against his hand.

"You have the answers?" raged Blake, "you're a liar, a coward, and a cheat!"

"I'm not here to become a huntsman doll I just need a diploma so I can—"

There was a gust of wind and a rustling of pages as Port moved. One moment he was seated on the far end of the table, the next he stood next to Jaune—a yellow envelope in his hand.

Jaune couldn't help but notice that his own hand was empty.

"You realize, lad, that if this is a collection of answers to an upcoming test at Beacon, you will not be far from expulsion."

Jaune's mouth dried and his ire faded. Right. Port was Beacon staff. He didn't know his own class's material…but he was still staff. Jaune tried to wet his mouth and maintain his composure. "I was just joking. Those aren't test answers."

"Then you won't mind if I look inside."

It wasn't a question. Jaune's eyes bulged as the man flicked open the packet, withdrawing a stack of at least fifty pages. Jaune saw the easy life he was supposed to have at Beacon flash before his eyes.

Port flipped through the pages quietly. "You weren't kidding. These aren't test answers. Do you use this to help you fall asleep at night?"

He handed Jaune the papers. Jaune read the title on page one.

"A Treatise on the Ethical Ramifications of Dishonesty within Academia: A Discourse by Bartholomew Oobleck."

Jaune was relieved, for now. He'd have to decide whether he was angry with his uncle later. "Uncle Bart likes for me to read his stuff hot off the press."

"I'd be more careful about false claims of cheating young man," said Port, "as he returned to his seat. I am required to report cheating to Miss Goodwitch, and she takes it…very seriously."

Jaune had heard rumors about that terrifying force within the school. He was sure he didn't want to test their accuracy.

Okay. So now. Now the day was a total wash. These phone numbers were to the scrolls of a bunch of girls who probably hated his guts. And he didn't have the answers for any test this semester. And Oobleck probably wasn't going to budge on that…

But he still needed to make it through Beacon, somehow, and move on with his life…

And the professor of the class for which there would be a freakin' test tomorrow just admitted that he would be of no help in learning the material…

Oh.

Oh, god.

Did he…?

Did he need this study group?

"Alright," he began, inching back towards his seat. "I guess if no one else is going to step up I'll call this study session to order."

"You said you were leaving," pointed out Weiss.

"I changed my mind," replied Jaune.

Blake's eyes narrowed. She stared at him the same way a cat probably looked at a mouse. "Wait, did you actually think you had the answer—"

Jaune cut her off, "anyway! We're a community now!"

Nora cheered as if the last few minutes had not happened. Ren gave him a thumb's up. Yang looked vaguely entertained. Ruby looked excited over the use of the word again. Pyrrha smiled at him. Weiss was observing him suspiciously. And Blake was downright angry. Port was in his own little world.

None of them looked very keen on studying.

Jaune died a little inside.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Thar she blows. So, I mixed up my update schedule a little to finish this. But I had to adjust it anyway thanks to length adjustments on Guitar Huntsman Chapters.

Guitar Huntsman and Shield of Vale both switch off on Wednesdays now. That won't change. Where this and Port Chronicles will fit in that update schedule is TBD.

Let me know what you thought, comments, follows, fave, etcetera.

Also, if you're a Community fan like me I'd REALY like to hear what you thought. It's similar to the show but not the same.

If you liked this, be sure to check out my other fics, you might like em more.

As per usual, no Beta, so forgive the small stuff.

-Vronsurd