So, I can't post links here but there is some cute fanart of Yang dealing with best-Grimm-son Yin, drawn by Mystery White Flame on Deviant Art. If you Google that, I'm sure one can find it. It's titled "Atta Boy".

On the request of someone, and because I finally got around to it, the "upcoming fics" section of my profile has now been updated to reflect plans for some upcoming stories. I realise this means some old ones have vanished, but that's just a peril of what I do, really. Sometimes an idea sounds good, but that's all it's good as - an idea. When you sit down and plan a story around it, it doesn't really work all that well.

Anyway, you can see four new fic drafts that will likely be coming out once others finish. I'll try to be a little more up to date in adding to it.

Beta: College Fool

Cover Art: Kegi Springfield

Chapter 75

Weiss maintained a vacant smile as she nodded towards the audience, descending from the stage. Most applauded her honestly, though there were some women who sneered and whispered thinly veiled insults.

"Simply wonderful, Miss Schnee," an elderly gentleman gushed as she walked by. "Beautiful."

"Incredible," another said. "I'd thought I might never get a chance to hear you sing again."

"Bravo!"

"Thank you, thank you," Weiss smiled for each in turn and played the perfect doll as per her father's instructions. Bodies crowded in around her as guests complimented, cajoled and, in one case, a journalist tried to arrange an interview, only to be caught and escorted away by a security guard in a crisp teal-blue suit.

Jacques didn't trust her with the media yet, she realised, watching her father watch her from across the ball. Weiss sent him a respectful nod, and though he didn't return it, he did go back to his own conversation with a wealthy investor.

Just play the good daughter for now, she thought. It won't have to last.

Weiss was no fool, and with Emerald's help it was child's play to find out what her father planned. This charity ball – if one could call it that – was designed with multiple purposes in mind, only a few of them PR-related. While the sight of her on the stage once more was to prove to the people that he had gotten his way over her, the main push involved her brother, who even now was schmoozing with several women on the other side of the hall.

She couldn't call it flirting, mostly because the women were at least twenty-five or more, and at best humouring him, at worst gold-diggers. Still, he'd been doing the rounds and played as visible as possible, both to the guests and the photographers covering the event. While interviews were off the table, the images, and the news, would feature in the coming days' newspapers.

A perfect time for a new heir to the Schnee family to be announced, or at least for her to be pushed down the ladder a little. Weiss met Emerald's eyes across the hall and nodded once. The ex-criminal returned it, downed her drink, and politely excused herself from the conversation she was involved in, slipping away.

Weiss, in turn, moved over to one of the buffet tables, where the tall and imposing figure of General Ironwood created a bubble of anti-socialness, his glower scaring off any would-be conversationalists. He greeted her with a nod when she approached.

"General," she returned, curtseying just a little. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I can't always be trapped in an office working. Sometimes, it's necessary for me to get out there, meet important people and socialise." Ironwood's grimace made it clear what he thought of that. "You have my compliments for your performance earlier. I see your time away from the scene has not diminished your voice any."

"Thank you."

"Do you intend to turn singing into a career?"

"I don't think so. My heart, and my skills, lay elsewhere."

Ironwood glanced at her from the corner of one eye and grunted in what might have been understanding. A server came by with a tray of glasses and Weiss took two, handing one to the taller man. She smiled when he frowned at the waiter, sending him scurrying away.

"You're a little out of place at an event like this, I see."

Ironwood grunted again, and regarded the empty space surrounding them. "I suppose I am. I apologise for that."

"Don't. It's why I came over."

He looked her way in some surprise, before noticing the look on her face and chuckling. His shoulders relaxed just a little. "Using me to escape your adoring fans."

"More my bootlicking sycophants."

"What would the world think if they heard the polite and ever-graceful heiress of the SDC speak like that?"

"I don't think it will matter. Father intends to see Whitley crowned heir tonight."

"Is that so?" Ironwood asked, suddenly a little sharper, eyes narrowed. "I had not heard about this."

"Few have. I think he's been waiting for me to make a mistake worthy of being disowned over. Failing that, he plans to claim that I've suffered such emotional trauma from the attack on Beacon that he does not wish to pressure me with such high expectations." Emerald had found the evidence, and the psychologists bribed to assess her as suffering from acute depression and anxiety attacks.

Ironwood frowned at Jacques over her head. "How kind of him…"

"Indeed. He's ever been a father looking after our best interests," she said sarcastically. "Winter knows as much first hand."

"I suppose she does. What about you, Miss Schnee? You will be of age soon, and capable of making your own decisions. Family ties or no, I would not turn you down should you wish to enter my service. I could see you assigned to work with your sister. After training, of course."

"A kind offer." And it was, in a sense. "But for now, I have my responsibilities to my family." Weiss pointedly did not say the Schnee family. With a sigh, she placed her empty glass down on the table. "Would you care to dance, General? I'm sure you'll be expected to dance at least once tonight, and I certainly know I am."

He regarded her with some surprise. "Would you not rather dance with someone your own age?"

"The only people my age here are sons of prominent business partners. All conveniently single and of marrying age."

"Ah." Ironwood placed his champagne flute down and held out a hand. "Then I suppose I should continue my duty and protect you from such insidious advances."

"You have my thanks, brave knight." Weiss curtseyed and placed her hand in his. "But try not to smile too much," she quipped. "I'm still holding onto the hope you'll scare anyone away before they think to approach and ask me for a dance."

Ironwood laughed and stepped alongside the girl half his age towards the dance floor. Everyone in their way parted, shocked at the sight of them together, but also intimidated by the stern man and his cold eyes.

"Somehow, Miss Schnee, I don't think that will be a problem."

/-/

Emerald glanced back out onto the dance floor and smirked when she saw Weiss dancing with Ironwood. They were drawing attention, not all of it good. Jacques was frowning at the display in that way he did, the one that suggested there would be harsh words later. He was a real piece of work. Even growing up without a parental figure, Emerald figured he was a poor example of what was expected. It was enough to make her glad she was an orphan.

A shame she couldn't be quite as pleased about her current situation, the pastel-green dress she wore being a complete pain in the ass. It was tight in uncomfortable places to better show off her curves, something which she noted more than a few men had taken a moment to admire.

"Ah, Emerald," a familiar voice crooned. She groaned, but turned immediately to face Weiss' little brother, who despite his age somehow still managed to come across as incredibly sleazy. He probably didn't mean it that way. If anything, it was the suit and the way he acted. Like a child attempting to imitate an adult, he didn't quite understand the nuances of what he said, and the mature expression and tailored suit made him look older than he was.

People judged him as if he were eighteen or so, and that worked for him. It gave him legitimacy and stature. Sadly, it also meant that when he smirked cockily and crooked one finger at her, the action looked unabashedly creepy, even if he just meant it as an arrogant gesture.

"Whitley," she greeted, stepping over cautiously. He had four people with him, three women, two older by far, one only by a few years, and a youngish man of around twenty-two or some years. He gave Emerald the once up and down and, liking what he saw, smiled at her.

"That's Mr Schnee to you," Whitley corrected with a frown. It wasn't a very good one. He tried to emulate his father, but he didn't quite have the callous edge the older man did. It didn't stop him trying. "This is my sister's retainer," he explained to the others. "She works for the family, though mostly Weiss."

"Ah." The other man's interest faded as he realised she wasn't someone important. The smile fell, and though the desire was still there, it was now for nothing more than a one-night stand.

"A retainer, in this day and age?" one of the women asked. "Whatever would she need one for?"

"I've no idea," Whitley said with a sigh. "I suppose it's a shoulder to lean on. The attack on Beacon was sudden and my sister has never been the strongest of souls."

"The poor girl."

"Such a shame what happened…"

So, your job is to push that tripe, huh? Emerald watched Whitley carefully, noting the way his eyes lit up as those around him began to express their empty sympathy for Weiss. The rumour mill was strong at events like these, which meant that if Jacques really did go ahead and disinherit Weiss within the next few days, almost everyone would have heard about this conversation and think the two related.

Time to nip that in the bud, then.

"Weiss hardly needs me for comfort," Emerald drawled, surprising her `betters` by interrupting them. "She was there at the attack. She cut down her fair share of terrorists, not to mention the Grimm. I even saw her face down the Grimm dragon – and she was directly responsible for the death of Adam Taurus."

Absolutely not in a way Weiss liked to remember or talk about, but it was still technically true. Emerald held Whitley's gaze and smiled as some of the women oohed and aahed.

"Be that as it may, Weiss suffered quite the trauma-"

"No more than anyone else at Beacon, and if so, the trauma isn't really showing itself." Emerald gestured towards the dance floor, and there were some titters as they saw Weiss dancing with a man twice her size, smiling serenely and chatting as she did. "In fact, I dare say Weiss is completely unaffected. She didn't so much as stutter during her performance."

"That's true," one of the women said. "She was very composed."

"Rather admirable considering everything she's been through," the other said.

"I heard one of her teammates was even killed in the event."

"Oh, the poor girl. She's brave standing so strong. I don't think I'd be able to."

Emerald's smile continued to grow as the opinion turned in Weiss' favour. It wasn't just a retainer's job to protect their master from physical threats, after all. Any such glee died when Whitley gripped her arm, however.

"Emerald," he said firmly. "A word?"

Knowing her position wasn't firm enough to refuse, she curtseyed. "Of course, Whitley. Lead on."

The young man excused them from the others with some nonsense about concern for his sister and pulled Emerald aside, out of the hall and into a corridor. He glanced around furtively to make sure they were alone, and only released her when he was sure they could not be overheard.

"What was that?" he hissed.

"What was what?" she asked demurely.

"That display back there! Don't think I didn't see what you did."

"I defended my master," Emerald said. "As is my job."

"The trials and tribulations my sister has been through are taking a toll on her. She-"

"Weiss isn't suffering from any mental illness, Whitley. You know that."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm saying you're mistaken," Emerald said carefully. "Perhaps overly concerned for a sister you care for…"

Whitley laughed. It wasn't a kind sound, but nor was it cruel. If anything, it was just amused – which given the circumstances made him come across as rather callous. "So, you can be diplomatic," he said. "I guess it's true what they say, you can teach an old dog new tricks. Just remember that a dog should not bite the hand that feeds it."

"Weiss-"

"Will not always be in charge," he interrupted. "Father is the one whose earnings cover your wages, and father has decided that Weiss is mentally unsound after what she has been through. Are you saying that my father is incorrect?"

"Not incorrect," she said again, "Just…"

"Just what, Emerald? Overly concerned?" Whitley snorted, making it clear what he thought of that. "We both know that isn't true. You'd do well to remember that it will be I who is made the heir to the SDC. I shall be the one in charge. I shall be the master. Until that time, it is my father who makes the decisions. If he says Weiss is depressed, she is depressed, and there is not a psychologist in Atlas who will dare to disagree. Am I understood?"

Emerald gritted her teeth. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes… Mr Schnee…"

"There we go, you can show respect when you need to." Whitley smiled again and reached out with one hand to touch her cheek. "You're a good retainer, Emerald, loyal and dedicated. I like that. Maybe once Weiss has been disinherited, I'll take you for myself."

Again, his actions worked against his intent. The smile he was trying for was the patronising one Jacques often used to make someone feel small and insignificant, but Whitley couldn't manage it properly and had defaulted to an odd leer instead. Combined with the hand on her cheek, Emerald's own expression and the fact an obviously older and stronger woman was submitting to him, the image he painted was far less kind than he realised.

"I'll leave you to think on what I've said," Whitley decided. "Feel free to return to the party but remember what I've said. Yours is not to question, nor to think. You serve. Nothing more."

He turned and strode away with a smile on his face, content in the fact he'd gained the upper hand, ignorant of the shocked faces of at least five guests nearby, who had not only heard every word, but seen their interaction first hand. Already they were whispering to one another.

Whitley didn't see them, of course. Her Semblance made sure of it.

/-/

Weiss noticed her a man walk up to her father and whisper something into his ear. Her father stiffened and then turned away, finally looking away from Weiss. He was angry, she could tell, but it was not at her for he stormed away without so much as a glance in her direction.

"Problem?" Ironwood asked. He had one hand on the small of her back and the other holding her much smaller hand in his. Both held her softly, enough so that she could have broken free if she wanted to. He really was a gentleman.

"Not a problem," Weiss said, noticing Emerald join the crowd on the other end of the hall. Emerald met her eyes, grinned and nodded. "Not a problem at all. In fact, I think everything is going perfectly."

Ironwood noticed the sudden shift in the hall. His eyes, used to picking up threats, spotted the sudden whispers that spread like wildfire, and quickly identified them as being aimed at Whitley, who remained completely oblivious and was currently trying to impress a small gaggle of women. He wasn't doing very well, and yet despite him doing that all night, people were now watching him with frowns and worried expressions.

"Your doing?" Ironwood guessed.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, General. I've been with you all evening."

"That you have, Miss Schnee," he said, chuckling lightly. "Well, we'd best continue as such, just to prevent any overzealous accusations that you were anywhere but."

Weiss smiled and stepped into the next dance with the much taller man.

"Nothing would please me more."

Good luck getting rid of me now, father. Maybe if you'd not disowned Winter, you'd have a spare to fall back on, but that's the problem with making enemies of everyone. Sooner or later, you'll run out of allies.

And judging from the all but immediate shift in opinion, Whitley would not be making the position of sole heir to the SDC anytime soon. Not if Jacques didn't want to lose a whole host of investors and Board Members in one go.

Check and mate.

/-/

It was official; Yang hated Raven.

Oh, she'd hated her before, but in a muted – you're not worth hating – kind of way. It was always in the back of her mind but quickly ignored, because she didn't want to let hatred for a woman who'd been absent all her life define her. Now, however, it was different. The first time they'd properly spoken face to face, and Raven wanted her dead.

Or she wanted Yin dead, but it was all kind of the same thing at this point.

Yang spun away from Raven's sword and slammed her fist into the older woman's face. Rather than be blasted back, Raven took it with a snarl and Yang's hand almost burned up as flames washed over her. She cried out.

"Mom!" Yin slammed his hand down, gripped the soil and hauled her out of melee, launching her back. Yang landed hard on one shoulder and rolled back onto her feet. "Mom! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she panted. "G-Good job." Shit, but Raven hit hard, and not in the sense of intense training or an abundance of skill. This was something different; something that outweighed that by way too much.

And she was stalking forwards once more. Yang panicked and darted to the side, between a set of tents. She blasted one with Ember Celica, igniting the cloth and blowing it towards Raven. Ducking low, she fled among the remainder, hoping to lose Raven amidst it.

"Yin, we need to get out of here. Jaune could do some Grimm-summoning stuff. Can I do that?"

"I-I don't know how," Yin said, sounding equal parts guilty and afraid. "I might be able to, but there's a chance it wouldn't work, and I don't know if they would follow your orders or not. They might attack you."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take right now, Yin."

"O-Okay, mom." Yin's arm came up and the bones on the side parted, exposing soft, black flesh. Whispering an apology, Yang dug a nail into it, drawing blood after pressing down for a few seconds. It was a thick purple in colour and oozed in a way that suggested it was thicker than human blood.

"That doesn't hurt, does it?" she asked. Sure, Yin was a Grimm, but he was also a kid and she didn't like the thought of bleeding someone (or something) that young.

"No. It's fine. Um, I think you just spray it around."

Yang nodded and turned, shifting her shoulder so that Yin could get a proper throw with her back behind it. Blood splattered across the floor, though beyond it she could see Raven barrelling through tents with little regard for any bandits that might have been caught in the mess.

Yin made an odd sound in her head, something between a grunt and a continuous hum as he put all his effort into something she couldn't comprehend. The blood on the floor shifted a little, but slowly began to coalesce into something larger than itself. It was slow, much slower than Jaune managed, but it eventually turned into six Grimm, six Beowolves.

Each was about fourteen inches tall.

"For fuck's sake…"

"I'm sorry!" Yin wailed desperately as Yang fled, completely ignoring how easily Raven swept aside the pint-sized terrors.

Raven struck her a second later. Yang got Yin up in time to block the blow from the sword, though only just. The blade grated against her Grimm arm, but to her relief the bone plates held, even if her knees didn't. She was blasted back and knocked to the ground, and Raven's foot stomped down on her chest a second later, driving the air from her.

"Don't struggle, Yang, you'll only make this harder." Raven took hold of Yin's hand and pulled the arm taut. The sword went up and came down, carving an inch into the elbow.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

"Stop that!" Yang howled. She kicked back with one foot, but it didn't do much other than piss Raven off. The sword came down again on the same spot, cutting in another inch deeper. Blood pooled down her arm and onto her chest – where it formed another pack of insultingly small Beowolves. They growled cutely and leapt for Raven, scaling her legs like they were tree-trunks.

Raven ignored them and swung again – and with a sickening squelch Yin was severed from her.

"Yin! NO!"

"There," Raven spat. "It's done."

"You fucking bitch!" Yang howled. "That was my son!"

Raven opened her mouth to argue but yelped and fell back as several tendrils speared out of Yang's chest, striking Raven hard enough to force her off. Yang's eyes grew wide as they coalesced around her severed arm once more, and quickly grew back into a black arm.

"You called me your son!" Yin cheered.

"Y-You're still alive…?"

"Well yeah, I live inside of you. The arm is just an extension." That was… Yang sagged in relief, though that was short lived as Raven brushed miniature Grimm off her with one hand and stalked forward. "Hold on," Yin advised, right as six tentacles spread from her body and pushed into the ground. Yang yelped as she was lifted up and then propelled back, the tentacles moving one before the other in an undulating pattern, almost like the legs of an insect, with her as the carapace, staring up and back at Raven as she gave chase.

Yang held out her good arm, Ember Celica at the ready, and started to fire backwards. It was a weird sensation, not only because she was moving under no control of her own, but because she couldn't even see where she was going and the first thing she'd notice of an obstacle would be her head ploughing through it. Yin kept an eye out, however, and though they leapt over and dodged around tents, trees and other things, she never struck any. All the while she fired backwards, trying to hold Raven back.

"We need to get back to Bumblebee," Yang said. "And we need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

"But can't grandma make portals?" Yin asked.

"Don't call that bitch grandma. She doesn't deserve you. But I get what you're saying," she added with a growl. They couldn't escape Raven because she could open a portal to Yang at any moment. She had to sleep sooner or later and the moment they let their guard down, Raven would step out of a portal and kill them. "Stupid bullshit Semblances," she grumbled. "Right, then. We need to beat her here and now."

No idea on how they'd manage that, but there had to be something. Yang's eyes strayed left and right for inspiration. Hostages were out since Raven wouldn't give a shit, and a straight-up fight wasn't going to work because of this ridiculous power boost Raven had pulled out her ass. Outsmart her and play dead? Yeah, no. Sadly, Yang wasn't quite as able to recover from being cut in half as Yin was. This was the kind of fight she really needed her teammates for.

Wait, there was an idea. Yang quickly slashed another wound into Yin's arm and summoned some more corgi-sized Beowolves. Much like Zwei, they waited at attention for her commands. With a few hissed words, she sent them scurrying off, this time away from Raven and the oncoming fight.

When Raven charged in once more, Yang met her half way. They traded blows, Raven coming out on top each time but Yang's aura, and Yin's constant ability to regenerate, allowing them to at least stall for time. The very air around them continued to grow hotter, however. Sweat poured down Yang's face.

"Why are you doing this?" she rasped. "I just want a portal."

"You're tainted," Raven replied evenly, scoring a line on Yang's cheek and drawing blood. "You'll give up my location to her and then I and the tribe will be in danger."

"I don't work for the Grimm, damn it!"

Raven frowned. "I'm not prepared to take that risk."

That was it, then. Raven was afraid – afraid of being discovered, and willing to kill her own daughter to prevent it. Yin was just an excuse. Raven had never cared.

And she'd known that, hadn't she? It was just that hearing it now – while her own mother was trying to kill her – was somehow so much worse. Yang's eyes burned red and her hair ignited. Rage overcame her. Not yet, she thought, holding it back.

Something white flashed behind Raven. One of the bandits, a girl, shouted a warning.

"Now!" Yang activated her Semblance suddenly, lashing out with a kick that can knock a multi-tonne robot into a pillar. Raven had no chance, aura or not, and was flung backwards. She landed not on the ground, however, but in the middle of a huge, white cloth – her own tent, which ten little Beowolves were dragging between them like a net. The moment Raven landed in it, they changed direction and charged inwards, the cloth gripped in their little jaws. One by one, they leapt over her, covering and wrapping her up in the fabric.

With her new powers swirling all around her, it soon caught on fire. Raven cried out as the flames licked at her skin. Their jobs done, the Beowolves charged the bandits to keep them busy while Yang leapt for the flaming bundle of cowardly hypocrite that was the woman who spawned her.

Not her mother. Summer held that lofty position.

Raven had almost burned the tent cloth off entirely by the time Yang reached her, but one of her arms was still pinned. The other swung her sword, cutting through Yin at the forearm and earning a startled yelp from the parasite. Yang landed on Raven's chest, knees on either side of her, hand gripping Raven's sword arm and pinning it down.

"Yin, NOW!" Yang shouted, thrusting her Grimm-stump into Raven's face.

"On it!" Yin didn't reform the arm, at least not as he normally did. A great mass of black erupted from her arm and engulfed Raven's entire head. Through their connection Yang could feel Raven's mouth pried open, could feel the tendrils forcing their way into it – and up her nose. Raven kicked and thrashed madly and the air around them grew hot enough that she thought they might both go up in flames.

Gritting her teeth, Yang rode it out, clothing singing on the edges and hair shining a bright yellow. She pushed down harder, squashing Raven's skull against the grass. Raven was stronger, faster, had mora aura and some power that utterly outclassed anything Yang could offer. But she still needed to breathe. That, at least, was a power Raven did not have, and as Yin poured himself into Raven's throat and nostrils, clogging them, the woman's struggles became weaker and weaker.

"Give me a portal," Yang hissed. "Give me a portal to Qrow or I'll kill you right here."

Raven's voice was muffled but she managed to place her free hand on Yang's face and tried to push her away. It was ineffectual.

"Don't test me, mother. I didn't want to do this, but between abandoning me and dad, trying to kill me and now trying to kill Yin, I'm not feeling all that merciful." Yang pressed down harder to make her point clear. She'd do it. She'd absolutely do it. Not because she wanted to, but because if Raven didn't give up, she and Yin would die. There could be no stopping a woman whose Semblance was literally a portal to you at any moment.

If Raven lived and Yang didn't have Uncle Qrow to watch her back, she would die.

And if she had to pick a side between her and Yin, or Raven, then she knew which she was going to choose, to whatever end that required.

"Portal. Now." Yang said calmly. "This is your last chance." Yang pushed the tendrils deeper, down into Raven's throat. The woman's eyes, visible through a faint gap in Yin's black mass, bulged to incredible proportions.

Raven's hand flopped to the side. A red and black mess swirled to life in front of her.

"Good choice," Yang gritted out, releasing her.

Raven hacked and coughed, rolling over on one side. Even released, she could barely move, on the verge of passing out and utterly defenceless. She was beaten, and she knew it fully. The bandits watched in absolute horror, eyes wide and mouths open.

"Well," Yang said, fighting to show a little bravado despite how exhausted she felt. "I'd like to say it was nice seeing you again, mom, but I guess I'd be lying. Say goodbye to Grandma, Yin."

"Goodbye bitch-grandma. You suck."

"Atta boy." With a grin, Yang leapt through the portal.

And right into bed with Uncle Qrow and some blonde woman.

In hindsight, she wasn't sure who screamed first, or louder – Uncle Qrow at seeing his own niece crash down in the middle of him and a woman mid-coitus, or her at seeing Qrow's ass in front of her face while he was balls deep in a woman. A woman who casually looked past Yang's uncle, brushed some blonde hair from before her, and smiled happily.

"Oh, you must be my brother's girlfriend. Hi."

"Auntie Coral!?" Yin gasped.

Yang screamed again. Qrow did, too.

Ruby, Jaune and Nora barged through the door with weapons drawn. Ruby gasped, gagged and fell to her knees. Nora about-turned and fled. Jaune froze, and then took a good look at the girl her uncle was currently porking and almost fainted.

"S-SIS!?"

"Sis?" Qrow asked, looking down on the woman. His face went very, very pale. His eyes trailed down to his waist and below, as if to confirm there was a connection between him and the woman he was sleeping with. There very much was. "Y-You… no… Semblance… why?"

"Hi Jaune," said woman sighed heavily. "Look, I'm currently a little busy, so could you and your friends kind of, I don't know, go away and let us finish?"

"You're having sex with my sister!?" Jaune howled, pointing at Qrow with his sword.

"Yang's arm is back?" Ruby cried. "A-And has red eyes a-and is waving at me. I... I don't feel so good..."

"Auntie Ruby!"

"I can explain," Yang said.

"Can we stop talking here and let me have sex already?" Coral growled, locking her legs around Qrow's waist. "I refuse to let my first-time end in the most awkward orgy known to man and-"

She was interrupted as the portal from Raven closed, though not before a litter of tiny Beowolves leapt through, crashing all over the bed. One bounced off Coral's left breast and landed on the floor. It glanced about, dazed and confused. Another landed atop Yang's head and held on for dear life.

Qrow simply looked down at her once more and screamed once more.

/-/

Oscar gasped for breath as he came to a stop at the gates to the small village, one hand on the wooden wall and the other clutching his chest. Ozpin was a slave driver. They hadn't rested for hours and he was close to collapse. It was easy for him to act all high and mighty, sat in Oscar's head and not even having the good will to act like the trek hadn't had an impact on him.

"Nearly there, Oscar. If my memory serves me correctly, our plan was to reconvene at this inn should we ever find ourselves separated."

"D-Does that mean no more walking…?"

"Goodness no. But it does mean you'll have a walking stick."

"Y-Yay…" Oscar gathered what little strength remained and staggered forward, using his hand on the wall for support as he did. "What can you tell me about these people we're meeting? Other than that they're loyal to you, I mean."

"You will soon see for yourself," Ozpin said mysteriously. Or Ozpinsteriously, as Oscar sometimes called it. The guy couldn't give you the time of day without it somehow being a riddle. "Qrow is one of my most trusted agents. He is intelligent, skilled and highly professional."

A high-pitched scream of abject terror split the night. There was a crash as a window further up the inn they were approaching smashed, and Oscar watched in equal parts awe and shock as a naked figure leapt out, clutching a white blanket to protect their modesty. The figure, a man, caught his foot on the windowsill and tripped, plummeted down and slammed into the ground not three feet in front of them. The quilt only covered his front, which meant the man's bare ass was exposed to the sky.

"Please tell me this isn't him," Oscar deadpanned.

Ozpin sighed.

To be Qrow is to suffer. And Oscar, really.

But hey, doesn't matter had sex, right? Plenty of awkward conversations next time, not least of all because intentional or not, Yang has exposed herself to Qrow (even if he exposed himself right back, lel).

But yeah, complicated questions aplenty coming right up.

Also, I know Whitley may or may not be this bad in the show. We just don't know for certain since he was a pretty big non-factor. Rather than be bad here, I instead tried to show him as merely ambitious and trying to win his father's approval. He is trying to imitate Jacques, but because Whitley looks smarmy and not intimidating like his old man, it comes out more as "creepy teenager" than "callous old man".

All we see in the show is that he "acts polite" but soon turns on Weiss once he's made heir, showing that it was just an act. Oh, and that he tries to take after his father. This fic isn't really going to explore that, or how Whitley might just be a victim of a poor home life and a pair of sisters who might not have offered him all the support they could have.

Next Chapter: 26th July

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