Back from holiday and I still haven't watched any RWBY episodes since like episode 2 of season 3, but ah well, I'll get around to it. This chapter… ah, it's hard to follow such an emotionally charged chapter like the last one.
I'll let you just read, and perhaps include some thoughts at the end, so as to not spoiler anything. Anyway hope you all enjoy this chapter which was written at Tortola in the Caribbean.
Also I get a lot of people asking when, when will I update etc… who aren't reviewing with an account, so I cannot reply. You don't need to check every day to see if I have updated – just sign in to – it's free, and it will then TELL you when I update lol. It will send you an email.
I really don't quite get why people don't. I mean I'd be bamboozled trying to keep track of all the stories I'm reading without this… and then I'd have to dig through all the really bad stuff to try find them! Plus then if you ask me a question, I can respond.
I'm not saying you have to. I'm just saying… well… how do you even manage!?
Cover Art: Kegi Springfield
Beta: Super-Saiyan Cyndaquill
Chapter 25
"Damn it Yang," Blake shouted, nerves already beyond frayed as she looked up at her partner, "I'm a little busy here!"
"Oh excuse me," the blonde laughed as she pushed further into the room, her boots coming to a halt between Blake's legs. "I wasn't aware this pity party was invite-only."
P-pity party!? There could be no words, so she didn't spare any.
"If you're just here to insult me, then the door's behind you."
"Funny," Yang said as she crossed her legs and sat down across from the angry faunus, "and here I thought you wanted me to leave no matter what I was doing."
"I do."
"Well too late now, I'm staying putt."
Blake growled but didn't know what else to do. Yang could be painfully stubborn as a rule of thumb, even more so when she was in one of her annoying moods. Fighting just made her dig the heels deeper, the blonde's personality working much like her semblance.
"Then I'll leave you here and take your room." Blake pushed herself to her feet and made to step past the girl, only to yelp as her legs were knocked out from under her. The room tilted and swirled as she fell, and for anyone else it might have ended in disaster. Blake's agile nature and Hunter training kicked in however, and she was able to land on her knees – awkwardly, painfully – but in one piece.
"Damn you!" She almost screeched, though it came out as more of a sibilant hiss. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
"I don't need you running away again Kit-Kat," she laughed, as though she couldn't even perceive the danger in the air – and perhaps she couldn't. Sometimes it felt like Yang was so far above them in strength that she didn't consider them dangerous in their own rights. And the worst part was that it was true… while violence might offer some catharsis to Blake, she was under no illusions as to who would come out on top.
Damn it…
"So," Yang continued once it was clear Blake wasn't going to say anything. Instead she crossed her legs and sat opposite the blonde, making sure she made her displeasure known. She could deal with this… Yang could be a pain in the ass, but it was familiar territory – so much safer than what she had been put through not minutes earlier.
"You and Jaune, eh?"
"Damn you Yang!" She repeated once more, trying to get back to her feet but for her partner's leg shooting out in time to kick her hand aside, sending her once more tumbling to the hard wood. Amber eyes glared through thick lashes as she wished all sorts of death upon the nosey girl. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? That's your answer?" Those lilac eyes looked disappointed, though Blake had the suspicion it was more for the weak excuse than anything else. "Because from what I could see it looked like something you wouldn't forget in a hurry."
"Stop talking…"
The blonde woman sighed, one hand running through her hair in a manner that reminded Blake all too much of a different blond.
"Y'know what? Fine, I'm not good at patience, but guess what? I'm also not really good at subtlety either. Saw you sucking face with Vomit-boy, brave from my point of view – maybe different from yours."
"Shut up..." she whispered, but the words went unheard.
"And that's fine you know? After all, I'm the one who said to give him a chance and I did think there was something there. But then I saw something really weird, a certain girl up and running away."
"Shut up!" This time the words came out stronger, and Yang leaned back, lilac eyes narrowing. "I don't need you to narrate what you saw; you didn't see anything."
"I saw plenty," she argued, "who do you think kept Sun distracted so you could get away with that?"
"I don't need your help in this. I've got everything under control."
"Oh yeah, hiding in your room like a little girl – such control."
"What do you even know!?"
"I know there's a guy I passed on the stairs who looks like the whole world just got pulled out from under him." Blake flinched… she, that wasn't… "I also know that you ran away, and that if this is going to be anything like your little docks incident, that it's something you're not going to solve on your own."
"I-I'll solve this on my own." It sounded weak, even to her, and no doubt to Yang too as the woman threw back her head and laughed.
"That's a load of bull and you know it, we had to hunt you through the streets of Vale for a whole weekend. And that was just about you being a faunus, I know full well how much worse it can be when emotions get involved."
Why? Why wouldn't she just shut up and leave her alone? Yes, she was a coward – she knew that, but she needed time to collect her thoughts. This was… this wasn't just out of her depth; it was in another ocean entirely.
It just wasn't supposed to happen.
"I'd ask if it was bad," Yang broke the silence, "but judging from how into it you were I don't think that's the case. So level with me Blake, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Did he force you to? I can go down an-"
"No!" Blake came to his defence immediately, before looking away from the blonde's knowing grin, "he didn't force me."
"So he kissed you, and I guess you don't feel the same about him then?" Blake didn't meet her eyes, instead focusing on the wooden grain between her legs. The swirling patterns they made across the dusty floor of the abandoned room. "You realise you need to tell him then? It's not fair to lead him on if you don't feel the same."
"I know…" It would be for the best. He could get over her… find someone else to l-… to fall for. Someone he could be happier with. Her nails bit into the skin of her palms.
There was silence between the two of them for the longest time. Even as she kept her amber eyes locked on the floor as minutes rolled by. In the distance she could still hear the faint sounds of music. Muted now, no doubt he wasn't a part of it anymore. Not after what she'd done to him.
"Tch," the blonde stood up, and Blake didn't need to meet those eyes to know there was a disappointed expression on her face. "You know what though?" Yang continued, even as Blake remained silent.
She didn't know what she could say.
"I don't even think it's that you don't return his feelings." The boots at the edge of her vision stepped to the side, as Yang circled the faunus' slumped form. "I think you're scared. Again." The damning voice continued to circle, and Blake felt her shoulders droop at the condemnation. "Scared to trust people, scared to let anyone in." A breath of air blew across her cheek, the other girl's chin come to rest on her shoulder. "Scared to feel love, maybe even scared of being loved."
Blake's eyes scrunched closed, but all she could do was lower her head further. To speak was to invite Yang to break down her flimsy reasons.
As she so easily would…
A sigh sounded in her ear, again disappointed, as the blonde stepped back and walked towards the door.
"You should be careful though Blake," Yang said, and for the first time Blake looked up, seeing the girl resting on the door frame. "If you keep wasting time like this then someone else might snap him up first. Maybe it'll be Pyrrha."
Pyrrha? No… Jaune didn't have those feelings for the redhead, she'd seen it clear as day, and could understand why. Too mothering, too involved… Pyrrha didn't give him the space he needed to grow and become his own person.
"Maybe it'll be Ruby."
Also unlikely… though Blake held no ill will towards her leader, in fact she'd probably be a great choice for Jaune – supportive and loving. She was just too shy and young; Blake just couldn't imagine Ruby having the confidence to approach Jaune like that.
"Maybe," Yang leaned forward, eyes flashing red, "maybe it'll be me."
And for the first time Blake froze, having no arguments for why it couldn't happen. Yang was… she was everything Blake wasn't, and she very much doubted the girl couldn't take him if she wanted to. And that knowledge felt like a chasm opening up deep within her.
"And trust me Blake, when it comes to getting what I want?" Yang turned around, walking out the door and leaving the last words floating in the empty air. "I don't mess around."
Alone and abandoned… just as she liked it, having run away once more when things got tough, confusing… uncertain. Blake's face fell into her hands as her shoulders shook.
Jaune watched the battle continue to rage late at night, flashes of gunfire, the sparking of steel and torchlight illuminating the Grimm menace. They didn't stop, even when the sun went down, and so the Hunters could not stop either. Men and women stood shoulder to shoulder, resolute against the horde that threatened them all.
His hands rested atop the hard granite surface of the wall, somehow finding peace in the cool stone, stiff breeze and sounds of chaos below. It didn't soothe his heart, but it served to distract the mind. And at the moment, that was all he dared ask for.
"Trouble sleeping?" A voice from nearby asked, a pair of boots crunching on rock as they came near. Jaune couldn't find it in himself to be surprised as his father walked towards him, one hand on his hip.
"Something like that," Jaune sighed as he turned back to the melee, chin coming to rest atop his crossed arms. He wasn't in the mood to talk. Not to his father anyway. As another breath escaped his lips he fancied he could taste her still, and that memory brought another wave of pain crashing down upon his form.
Even then however, he didn't want to wipe his lips clean. He wanted to savour it, for as long as he could.
"The battle rages still," Nicholas said as he came to stand by him, one hand resting on a crenulation as he looked out over the battle. "The fighters are fresh however; we affected a change of the Hunters only an hour ago. A difficult procedure since the Grimm don't need rest. But casualties were at a minimum."
"That's good." A minimum… not that there were no casualties, and how could there not be, with so many out there? When you were literally a brick in the wall that kept the monsters at bay, how could you remove yourself when tired? Even if there was a fresh man to replace you, there was that single moment where your back was turned – where there was no one to cover you.
"Some may think it hopeless," the Commander said, "but we'll hold. We always have."
"But at what cost?"
"A significant one. It's always at a significant cost." The older man laughed. "No doubt they'll erect a statue of the fallen to remember this. Scant comfort to those who will never see their families again. Sometimes I think they are more for those who survived, something the people do to make us think they actually appreciate the horror we lived through."
"Why is it…" Jaune paused as he tried to find the right words to phrase his question, "why is it that people do things which are against their best interests?"
"Hmm?" His father turned to look at him, the older man's grizzled face illuminated in the dark. All hard lines and dark edges. To anyone else it might have seemed frightening. But Jaune could only see the man who had once bounced him around the house on his knee.
"Why is it that we become Hunters, why do we do things that have no good options? Why do we fall i-" He cut himself off, but knew even then that it was too late. Why did we fall in love, if it just hurt?
"I think that's the question every man asks at least once, God knows I've asked it enough times," Nicholas said as he took a position beside Jaune, a similar pose as his arms came to rest on the cool stone, looking out over the darkness. "There's so much cruelty in this life, so much hurt and danger – so why is it that we still try? It took me a while to figure out my answer."
"What was it?"
"Hope." He said simply, as he turned to look Jaune in the eye. "Strange from me, isn't it? With how cynical I am."
"A little…"
"But that's the only reason I can find to explain why I'm still here. And why anyone else is really. Because deep inside, no matter how much we know it isn't true – there's this tiny bit of hope that tells us this might be the last. This might be the final battle; we could end the Grimm threat. And then… then we imagine our families living in a world where the Grimm don't exist. Where the biggest problems they face in life is what to wear in the morning. And the thought of it… it's somehow enough to keep you going. Every man needs a dream Jaune. Even if it's a fool's dream."
A dream? He could imagine a dream for him. A small house, a beautiful wife with dark hair and two furry ears – small children with golden hair and yellow ears poking from their curly locks. She would smile at him, and that would be all he needed in the world.
"As for the other… well. There's this moment, when you find that you're falling in love," he continued, and Jaune's eyes closed as he realised just how easily his father had seen through him. "It should be the most joyous moment and actually - it's not. It's the moment where everything is turned on its head. Where another's happiness becomes more important than your own, where all your priorities are upset."
The taller man laughed, leaning further down on the wall.
"It's the moment where your world ceases to make sense anymore, because all your dreams have been replaced with new ones, and suddenly you don't want the world anymore. You just want the right to deserve them. Nay, just the chance to deserve them. And it's frightening too – to know that so much of you depends on them, that their words can hurt you more than anything a Beowolf can do." He paused, only to shake his head, "no one falls in love gracefully Jaune, no one."
"Easy for you to say," Jaune sighed, "you do everything perfectly."
"Do I?" Nicholas chuckled as a hand settled in Jaune's hair, "you'll have to tell your mother that. Especially with how it took me five years to win her over. I fell in love with Juniper at seventeen, she was a waitress at a restaurant that I must have spent half my money at. Just for the chance to talk with her. My team despaired of always having to eat there – the food was shit."
And despite himself, a small laugh bubbled forth.
"Of course I told her when I was twenty, only took me three years of watching her date other men. She turned me down, and I must have sulked for months, it felt like there was no use existing in Remnant anymore. If I couldn't be with her then what was the point?"
"What did you do?" He asked, even as his father turned to him with a raised brow.
"Do? I did nothing of course, I sulked like a little bitch and it was up to my team to knock me into shape, very literally I might add. They had a lot of frustration to burn, built up over many evenings of food poisoning. In fact, I do remember my own partner holding my head into the toilet until I promised to stop sulking."
"No." Jaune laughed, hardly able to believe it.
"I was young once," Nicholas shrugged with a smile, "and that comes with all the horrors of youth – even the dreaded dunking."
It proved too much, as laughter burst from his lungs and he hid his face in his arms. A deeper laughter echoed his as his father joined in.
"What I'm trying to say," Nicholas said once the laughter had died down, "is that it was never an easy path for me. Your mother turned down my first marriage proposal, scolded me for embarrassing her in front of her friends – when I was by far the more humiliated being rejected on one knee. But eventually I was able to win her over, to achieve the dream I'd so suddenly gained when I met her."
"She recoiled from me," Jaune said suddenly, feeling the weight of her rejection on his shoulders. "She ran away."
"So are you going to give up?"
"Shouldn't I?" Jaune asked, turning around so that his back was against the wall – now looking out over the silent city of Magnis, "she's made it more than clear she isn't interested. I'd just be forcing myself on her."
"Has she now?" Nicholas chuckled, "did she say as such?"
"Actions speak louder than words."
"I hate those little sayings," the older man sighed, "sticks and stones will break your bones – well guess what? The words of one you love will hurt more than any Ursa can. Similarly, actions can be mistaken, misunderstood. Words have a certain solidarity about them. To people like us Jaune, we're dreamers – you and I. Love is something incredible, uplifting. But your girl, and to your mother - it's something that upheaves life, and that scares them. When you've spent your entire life alone, dragging yourself up from the gutter, it's hard to trust. Harder even still to let someone have such control over you. As much as we might wish it, life isn't a fairy tale and we intrinsically know that. There's so much that can go wrong with something like love. The threat of rejection, of losing them – of it somehow not working out? That can be enough to scare some people into never trying."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" He was all out of ideas, laid bare to the despair he felt. Anything sounded better than wallowing.
"Depends," Nicholas answered, standing up and pushing away from the wall to face Jaune directly. His blue eyes were stern, his countenance judging. "Are you a child, or a man?"
"I'm…" he hesitated. When he had first snuck into Beacon, he'd run away from home, lied, faked his way. Every decision had been impetuous, and he'd dreamed of nothing more than fame and glory.
Now? Things were different… he thought things through, wanted the best for his team. It was his friends he fought for, to protect them. The mere thought of any of them in danger was enough to grip his soul in a claw of ice.
"I'm a man."
"Then don't run away," his father advised, placing a finger on Jaune's chest. "Stand and fight for what you want. Children dream. Men work towards achieving those dreams."
Jaune waited, a few long minutes passing by as the older man turned back to the melee. And still he waited. Before, with a mighty push – he stepped back.
"That's it!?" He shouted, throwing his arms wide. "That's your big advice – keep fighting?"
"What?" Nicholas grinned as he too stood up, towering easily above him. "It's good advice, did you maybe expect more?"
"Yes – Yes I did! Like… what am I supposed to do now? Do I go force her to talk to me, give her space, write her a fucking love poem, what!?"
"You want me to solve everything?" The older blond laughed as he stepped away, his own arms wide – as though inviting Jaune to attack. "Am I in love with this woman? Or are you!?"
"I am!"
"Then go do something about it, stop expecting others to fight your battles for you." Jaune sighed, but nodded to show he understood. How could his father know what to do, when he didn't even know Blake? Of course it would be up to him. "A bit of advice though?"
"I'm listening." He called back, the old man tilting his head over the side, addressing him over his shoulder.
"If this girl of yours is scared, then you'll just frighten her off if you come on too strong. You might want to slow down a little more next time, got to convince her not to bolt before you can start sucking face with her again."
"Right, yeah… I-" wait a minute. How did he know that h- "You were there!? H-hey wait!" But the older man just waved one hand as he continued down the wall, clearly pretending not to have heard him. But did that mean….
"Heh…" He turned back to the battle, hands once more coming to rest on cool stone. He wondered idly; what his old man thought of his guitar skills. It had been a long time, but he wondered if his dad had been proud?
Right… now he just needed to figure out what he was going to do about Blake.
One thing was for sure though.
This was one dream he wasn't willing to give up on.
Damn it Yang, I was hoping for something a little more concrete out of you, but honestly this is how I would see it happening. Blake strikes me as the type to withdraw a little when challenged on something she isn't certain on. Yang on the other hand can be too much of a battering ram.
So I didn't instantly resolve the conflict as I'm sure a lot of people wanted… why? Well, honestly it's because I don't want to short change Blake in what is an important moment for her. And also for Jaune too. If Blake has this problem, and it made her run away – well she isn't going to get over that in the space of thirty minutes! That wouldn't be solving the problem. That would be ignoring it.
So yeah, sorry guys – no immediate solution this chapter, though perhaps with this new advice from his father… IF he can use it properly (unlike he did when he first joined Beacon)… well then, it might be enough to bring something out.
Don't worry, I don't intend to keep them apart forever xD
Also Nicholas' thoughts are pretty much my own on love. Everyone assumes it's wonderful, and I'm sure when it works out it is – but it's also scary too. Especially when you realise you are deeply in love… because suddenly the stakes are through the roof and nothing makes sense anymore. Just because this is fiction, just because we can use stories to escape reality – that's no excuse for ignoring problems and such (in my mind anyway).
I get a lot of people who say they read to escape reality, and how my stories should be more light-hearted, harem or just plain power fantasy (OP Jaune, etc…) as that's what people want.
I disagree though (not with the escape reality – that's true, but I mean the whole "it has to be light-hearted or OP fantasy Jaune"). If that was true, why would stories like Titanic, Game of Thrones and others stick with us for so long? We wouldn't ever want to honestly live in those worlds. We might joke about it, but actual life there? No way! Yet Grimmdark remains a popular genre, as does murder mystery, horror and tragedy.
Stories to me are about a journey, both for the reader and the character. Your main character should start at A – and change through the tale, to a point B. Both physically and mentally. And that's to me, why so many of these OP Jaune fics never get finished. Because they start with Jaune at A, and they want to end with Jaune at A – then 6-8 chapters in, they realise they have no direction. They don't know where they want to go. Jaune has six girlfriends, copious amounts of sex – but no drive.
No reason to improve and no room to improve either. So the story just… dies out, slowly. A few lingering chapters where people try to introduce a new super enemy or something. But it's the death throes of a story and it feels weak.
If you start at A, and have a clear idea of the end game – what you want Jaune B to be! Then it becomes so much easier. Because you can always know where you're going. You have a destination.
As for the reader? They get to tag along, experience it all – and maybe even feel emboldened to try something different themselves.
Omake: By Coeur al'Aran
Jaune smiled as he watched his father walk away, turning back to look over the city of Magnis, quiet, abandoned – yet still alive.
Right then… he just needed to figure out what he was going to do about Bla-
"Hey there," a low voice whispered in his ear, even as an arm draped itself around his shoulders. Jaune flinched at the silent approach, even as a scrubby beard with a face attached appeared beside his own, resting on his shoulder. "Couldn't help but overhear – that sounded real deep. Real emotional too."
"Erm… yeah?" Jaune managed, wondering what he was supposed to do about the drunken Qrow. "Can I… help you?"
"Hmm… I think the question is – can I help you?" The world suddenly flipped as the arm around his shoulders turned into a steel band, dragging him to the floor as a blade was held over his neck. "And it's not a very good question for the circumstances – let me rephrase it. Was that conversation about Ruby?"
"Wh-what!?"
"Ah, ah, ah…" the man cautioned as the blade cut closer, in what might have given him a clean shave had he even the slightest facial fur to speak of. "I'm the one with the sword… I think… yeah, yeah I am – So I get to ask the questions. Were you talking… about Ruby?"
"No!" Jaune choked out past the sharp edge teasing his Adam's apple. "It wasn't Ruby…"
"Okay, good!" The man laughed, pulling the sword away and hoisting him back to his feet. Jaune gasped for breath once he was free, glaring at the man balefully. Qrow looked back, almost confused, before seeming to remember something.
The world span once more as he was dragged down, though this time Jaune managed to shout out en route.
"It's not Yang either!" The blade froze mid-air, the man coughing as he pulled Jaune back onto his feet once more, hiding the sword behind his back.
"Cool… cool…" the man nodded slowly, as though afraid his skull might roll free if he did it too vigorously. "So… in love?"
"Yes."
"Deep moment with your father?"
"Yes…"
"You're looking at me weird," the man tilted his head, before his eyes widened. "Oh shit, did I ruin the mood?"
"A little…" Jaune glared as the man backed away, holding both hands before himself as he leaned over – looking shocked.
"Ohhh. Ohhh!" He backed away. "I get it… I'll just make myself scarce so you can get back to your little moment."
"Thank you," Jaune said as he looked back over the city, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Right then… he just needed to figure-
"I won't even be noticeable, a veritable shadow, fleeing away into darkness."
…
Right then… he just nee-
"Kaw- KAW!" The drunken man cried out suddenly, drawing not only Jaune's deadpan gaze, but that of many others on the walls about them. "Kaw! I'm a simple crow, ignore me! KAW!"
"Ugh…"
The thing is, I could totally see this happening. Especially with the same kind of motions Qrow pulled when he destroyed the Atlas robots, the whole "Ohh… ooohhh… sorry, I mistook this for sentient garbage."
Damn Qrow, you're fast becoming one of my favourite men, don't make me pair you with Neo and make a dream couple. Don't get me wrong, I do like the friction presented in a Winter x Qrow – but maybe the silent skulduggery on both sides of a Neo x Qrow could be exciting.
Him searching behind the scenes to try and find out more about Cinder. Her, the silent observer who's to kill him if he gets too close. The potential for a good crime thriller is already there, waiting to be drawn into the light.
Want to see more fics, updated more frequently – or just support me for the pleasure and enjoyable reading I bring you? Please consider supporting me on – enabling me to bring you even more fics, updated as regularly as possible! There's even a goal where I would update a chapter for a different fic EVERY WEEKDAY. That's right – 5 days, 5 fics. Daily chapters.
. com (slash) Coeur
Next Goal: Two updates per week
For reference by the way, the next goal is maybe a little hard to understand. What it basically would mean is that each fic would be updated every two weeks. So the new Schedule would become:
Mon Week 1 – One Good Turn
Fri Week 1 – Staffroom Chronicles
Mon Week 2 – Stress Relief
Fri Week 2 – Professor Arc
Repeat.
So you would essentially be getting two stories a week, provided you actually like all my fics that is. But even if you just like one, it would still mean getting two chapters of it a month, rather than one every 3 weeks.