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[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

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Jaune Arc, Single Father 6 (Revised) New
The common room was usually a haven of controlled chaos—Nora's hammer propped in one corner, Ren's tea steaming on the table, Pyrrha's shield polished and leaning against the wall. Today, though, it had become a battlefield of a different kind.

Mia stood in the center, face flushed crimson, ears pinned flat against her blonde curls, tiny fists clenched at her sides.

"No! I don't wanna! I DON'T WANNA!"

The words exploded out of her in a wail that could have rattled the windows. She stomped her foot ineffectually against the floor, then dropped to her knees, kicking and screaming like the world was ending because Jaune had told her—no ice cream before dinner. And she'd tried to sneak some.

Jaune closed his eyes for one steadying breath, the kind he'd learned from years of parenting a whirlwind in cat-eared form. Then his voice cut through the storm, firm and unyielding.

"Mia Arc. You do not act like this."

He crossed the room in three strides, scooping her up despite the flailing limbs and outraged shrieks. She was strong for four, but he was stronger—and infinitely more stubborn when it mattered. He carried her to the empty corner by the bookshelf, the official Time-Out Zone, and set her down gently but implacably on the floor.

"You are going to sit right here, stare at that wall, and think about what you've done. You don't get to come out until I say so."

"DADDDYYYYYY!"

The wail could have shattered glass. Mia's face was a picture of betrayal, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jaune knelt briefly, meeting her eyes with the steady blue gaze that had faced down Grimm and White Fang alike. "No buts. You stay there."

She stomped both feet again, sobbing harder, glaring at him like he'd personally canceled dessert forever.

Jaune didn't budge. "You keep this up, young lady, and you're staying there longer. Do you want to sit here until bedtime? Miss story time with Auntie Ruby? No hammer rides with Auntie Nora?"

Mia's angry sob hitched. "…No…!"

"Then sit. Stare at the wall. Think."

She plopped down with a final, dramatic huff, crossing her arms and glaring daggers at the innocent beige paint as if it had personally offended her. The crying continued, but quieter now—miserable sniffles and the occasional hiccup.

Jaune retreated to the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He kept her in his peripheral vision, heart twisting at every sniffle. Parenting was the hardest thing he'd ever done—harder than Beacon initiation, harder than any fight.

He jumped slightly when a gentle hand settled on his forearm.

"Oh—Pyr." His voice dropped to a murmur. "Sorry about that."

Pyrrha's touch was light, reassuring. "No, I understand. I didn't intervene."

"Thank you." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I hate having to do this, but if I don't—"

"It's all right." Her smile was soft, understanding. "You're a father. It's what you're supposed to do when you love your children—discipline them." She squeezed his arm gently. "You're doing it because you care."

Jaune managed a tired smile. "I know. It's still really hard."

"I know." Pyrrha's voice was warm, steady. "But being a parent means being strong in every way. And I know you are."

He looked at her then—really looked. The way the late afternoon light caught in her red hair, the quiet strength in her eyes that had always believed in him more than he believed in himself.

"Thanks, Pyr." He hesitated, then added sincerely, "I think… you'd be a good mother."

Pyrrha's cheeks went brilliantly scarlet. A startled, happy giggle escaped her—high and flustered—as she ducked her head, ponytail swinging.

"Oh, Jaune… Th-that's so forward~!"

He blinked, genuinely confused. "Huh?"

"Um—n-nothing!" She waved a hand quickly, still blushing furiously, eyes bright with a mix of delight and mortification.

It was twenty minutes before, from the corner, a small, sniffly voice piped up. "Can I come out now?"

Jaune and Pyrrha both turned. Mia was still facing the wall, but her ears were drooping pathetically, and her lower lip trembled.
Jaune's stern expression softened. He crossed the room and crouched beside her.

"Have you thought about what you did?"

Mia nodded miserably. "…I yelled and stomped when you said no ice cream…"

"And?"

"…And that's not nice. I should use words."

"And?"

"And... If you say no... No ice cream," she sniffled miserably.

Jaune opened his arms. "Come here, kitten."

She launched herself at him with a fresh sob—this one of relief—burying her face in his hoodie. He held her close, rubbing her back in slow circles.

"I love you, Mia. Even when I have to be the bad guy."

"Love you too, Papa," she mumbled into his chest. "Can I have ice cream after dinner?"

He chuckled. "We'll see."

Pyrrha watched them, smile soft and fond, cheeks still pink.

Parenting was hard.

But moments like this made it worth every second.
 
AndrewJTalon said:
Fun idea: Mia asks her dad for a little sister or brother for her birthday! And unfortunately everyone else overhears. Hilarity is guaranteed.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
NightDranzer said:
If your kid hasn't told you they hated you at least once? You are not being a parent, you are being an enabler.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
The big challenge isn't just who can screw or get screwed by Jaune first, it's who manages it without Mia around.
Because Jaune isn't going to let his little girl get traumatised by him and a women having wild sex in the living room or on the couch while she's sitting right next to that (and all of the girls who love Jaune also like Mia enough for them not to want to do that to her or hurt her in any way).
 
Original Character, Do Steal: Lieutenant General Doctor Henryk Amzel New
Forgot to add my OC sheet to QQ yesterday. Remedying that now.

Lieutenant General Doctor Henryk Amzel

Inspiration: Edward Richtofen (COD: WAW specifically), Heinrich Amsel (also COD: WAW for the name) Henryk (Bloodborne) also for the name and for the fighting style.

Appearance: As muscled as a career soldier would need to be, but barely, he is a thin man whose high cheekbones and gaunt features give the impression of a leering, grinning skull that he hides behind a short, now-gray beard. The curly shock of hair poking out from under his general's cap remains orange, however. His eyes are cold blue, and he has a crescent shaped scar wrapping around the underside of his left eye, going up his nose and around his eyebrow. He is almost never seen without his mostly white general's uniform (as he has integrated his clothes into his fighting style), and two stars, as well as two tessellations of the pattern on his hochrot collar tabs mark him out as a Lieutenant General. Although when he expects to fight, he usually just wears his coat over his shoulders. When he is mainly concerned with battling cold weather, he usually buttons up and throws on a scarf and balaclava too.

nazi_zombies_dr_edward_richtofen_by_josael28tnz_d6aypds-fullview.png


But Stephen Lang's portrayal of General Pickett in the movie Gettysburg was what gave me the idea for the hair and beard. Of course I cannot find any images of Lang Pickett that will let me put a link in here/are on websites with languages that I can speak. And the beard would be a real beard and not just a goatee.

And I couldn't resist paying tribute to the single best piece of Scooby Doo media ever made, Zombie Island, I had to include Morgan Moonscar's scar as a little quirk of his appearance.

zombie_morgan_moonscar_by_batman714_dh5cjax-375w-2x.jpg

Emblem: Grinning Pumpkin wreathed in green flame, holding a curved sword in its mouth.

Race: Human

Semblance: Blood Rally: "The healing is not as rewarding as the hurting." When blood touches Amzel's body or Aura, his physical wounds seal up, his fatigue evaporates, and his strength increases. The more messy a battlefield is, the more terrifying the insane doctor becomes.

Weapons: A Saw-Cleaver - which rumors circulate about the the R&D wing of the General Staff is something that he picked up during his time as a medical officer in the Jaegers for admonishing patients, a sawed off Dust drilling of a pattern similar to the Luftwaffe M30, his service pistol, Jaeger-issue knife (usually with applied toxins), his overcoat.

saw_cleaver.jpg

HuntDrillingHandcannon.jpg

Fighting style: He wields his blade like a traditional Hyperborean/Vacuoan navaja fighter, with the cleaver in one hand and his overcoat draped over his other forearm. Of course, this is his first trick. When the coat is over his offhand, this is when he grabs his gun and keeps it concealed. If he can hack his opponent to pieces, rip them up, or disembowel them with his blade, that is excellent.

But the cloak component of his literal cloak and dagger fighting style doubles as a cover for him to infiltrate a gun into the engagement. This gun is usually loaded with Wind and Lightning Dust shells in the shotgun chambers, and an armor piercing Hardlight Dust bullet in the rifle barrel. When the aptly named Donnergewehr goes off there is usually a whoosh-crack of concussive force that sends whatever was in its frontal firing arc and within a few meters of the muzzle flying, flooded with electricity, and whatever the gun was most directly aimed at gets a 9.5mm hole punched through it and whatever defenses it had.

Needless to say, the surprise only works once, and he needs to fill out the form for a new overcoat after every time he pulls the trick. So he mainly sticks to cleaver-fighting. Which he is good at. The heavy, oddly-shaped, sawback weapon, covered in fraying wraps and dried gore, combined the laughter of the truly mad man wielding it is usually enough to unsettle most of his opponents. Amzel is lithe and quick darting into measure and then backstepping out. The oddly shaped grip, and the folding blade create ample opportunity for change-ups and attacks at surprisingly long distance from unguarded angles. The weapon's mass and teeth do not often leave a second strike necessary.

The Saw-Cleaver turns the Grimm's monstrous forms against them, the larger and more grotesque the monster, the more the blade rips and ruins as it lacerates flesh. Amzel will boast of this particular detail aloud when other Atlesian forces are around, usually to reassure them that it isn't just for clearing away the excess clutter on a particularly noisome patient before a prosthetic can be fitted in.

He also keeps his pistol and knife on his person, as hold-out weapons. His slight-of-hand usually allowing him to draw and deploy one of them in the heat of battle, and with a surgeon's steadiness and precision.

man-in-traditional-costume-armed-with-navaja-knife-with-cloak-as-a-shield-spain-spanish.jpg


51QQ3dt0YxL._SY445_SX342_FMwebp_.jpg


History: Like many sitting members of the General Staff, Amzel came up through the ranks of the Jaegers, where he initially served as a medical officer. However, he transferred out of the unit to escape the fallout of an apparent military-political scandal.

While several of his acquaintances were either covering their own asses or throwing blame on each other, Amzel was shuffled into R&D, where it was expected that he would just act as an administrator and organizer for whatever projects needed someone to coordinate personnel and assets, but where he quietly acquired competences and doctorates in physics, robotics, chemistry, and electrical engineering, at speed. Amzel proved to his superiors that the absence of sanity had left his mind with a great deal of free space. The Colossus-class walker, for instance, is a favorite proverbial punching bag of his.

Recently, he has been promoted to the head of the Special Construction Training Corps, based primarily out of the Jotun Installation in the cold wastes of northeastern Rana Niejta, where a group of mountains, unusual for the terrain rise high and act as a large natural curtain for the sizable box canyon between them. Here, he works bringing the next generation of cybernetics, machines, systems, and weapons into being.

Amzel is a good fit for Jotun, the Atlesian Area-51 analog. It is a source of paranormal, cryptid, and ghost stories that trickle into the Atlesian military's lore, with experiments concerning aircraft, android and walker systems, and Dust/chemical interactions mutating over retellings and speculation by drunken officers and contractors into stories about Faunus experimentation, occult rituals, and unworldly or unholy research projects taking place. Why wouldn't the commanding officer of the installation be a mad scientist with a comically Allomenian accent?

Currently, the two projects occupying his focus are the next generation 50-meter class walker - THERAPHOSA, and the Infantry Cybernetic Exoframe model: Dragon.

Politically, he aligns with the Folkers faction. Ostensibly because he sees droids deployed en masse as directly harming the Atlesian military's ability to react to fluid, violent, or escalating situations, moreover, he considers that integrating other kingdoms into their surveillance and intelligence networks as a deliberately exposing themselves to enemy infiltration, espionage, and shock assaults, as well as informing hostile/rival entities and powers of their technological and strategic capabilities and disposition.

Of course, Amzel is motivated at least in part by the fact that he is a Grimm Cultist who doesn't want to be discovered, and he worries that another country in their system may spot something that nobody in the Atlas military or security apparatus would think to look for and correlate.

The number of people who know of his true colors is incredibly small, only a single platoon in the SCTC. Jotun-4's elite security unit Grune Gespenster. (They, along with Jotun itself will be covered in a separate piece).

Each of whom was handpicked by Amzel for personal loyalty and 'like-mindedness.' Amzel never has any of them leave Jotun-4. They are a defensive unit whose entire structure is built around securing one building built halfway into the base of a mountain inside of a box canyon.

Though Amzel never takes the chance to sabotage a project placed under his authority. His pride as a (mad) scientist refuses to let him.

Role in the story/current ongoings: As of 2002, Amzel is working to bring the ICE Dragon project to life, enabling soldiers, no matter how wounded, to return to action, and with Aura-Wielder level capabilities to boot.

After the White Fang assassination attempt on Whitley Schnee left the boy as a pile of mostly-charred hamburger (they fired a trio of rockets at a limousine that they had thought Jacques was riding), and Jacques decided to make this the Military's problem, Amzel has at last found a test pilot for his Dragon frame in bad enough shape to need it. He's the military head of the program, and he works with Siarka Stark, the arms and shipping mogul who makes most of the ICE Dragon's components, and Kirk Lowenhardt, the government functionary sent to make sure the project is done on time and within requirements.

He was at the Vytal festival, he had been in Vale for the arms expo a week or two earlier and simply stayed over. This led to him scrounging and organizing a flotilla of smaller craft to evacuate Atlesians at least far enough away from Vale to the point where they can properly get underway to Atlas.

In the wake of the festival, Amzel vocalized his support for Hardy, asserting that the disaster was his every fear about Ironwood's doctrine realized on a grand scale.

In the months following the Vytal Festival, Amzel has been deploying his projects to the front. Whitley's combat data from the Vytal Festival has advanced the ICE Dragon project from the prototype stage to Pre-Production, and with that the Amphibious Powered Cavalry module has entered the initial field trial phase, with promises that it will be ready for full deployment some time in 2004.

Amzel spends his rare free time building his personal prototype for a reactor that harnesses energy released by the natural decay of high atomic weight metals.
 
The Philosophy Knight 4 New
The badlands town of Dustgap was little more than a cluster of sun-bleached shacks and a single wind-bitten saloon, the kind of place where even the Grimm gave up and went home. Team RWBY and JNPR had been dispatched on a training mission to clear out a bandit camp that had been raiding caravans on the Vacuo border. The bandits—twenty rough-looking men and women in mismatched armor—had set up in the old town square like they owned it.

Jaune Arc stood at the front, Crocea Mors drawn, eyes practically sparkling.

"Finally," he breathed. "Real bandits. Outlaws. People who live by their own code! Surely one of you has a manifesto or at least a half-decent worldview to defend!"

The bandits exchanged confused glances.

Their leader, a burly man with a scar across his lip and a repeating rifle slung over his shoulder, stepped forward. "Look, kid, we just want your dust and your supplies. Hand 'em over and nobody gets hurt."

Jaune's face fell. "That's... that's it? No speech about the corruption of society? No rant about how the kingdoms abandoned the frontier? Nothing about freedom or survival of the fittest?"

The leader scratched his beard. "Uh... society is corrupt? And... uh... freedom's good?"

Jaune perked up. "Yes yes yes! Go on!"

"And... the strong take what they want because... that's how it works?"

Jaune deflated again. "That's... that's basically just Hobbes without the social contract. Have you even read Leviathan?"

The bandit blinked. "Read what now?"

Jaune sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "Never mind. You're clearly not well-read. This is so disappointing."

Weiss, standing a few paces behind with Myrtenaster drawn, rolled her eyes. "Jaune, they're bandits, not philosophy majors."

Jaune spun toward her, eyes wide and shining. "But Weiss! You get it! You studied all that Atlas theory—Schnee corporate ethics versus individual liberty, the tension between order and freedom—"

Weiss stiffened. "I am not debating moral philosophy with you in the middle of a bandit fight."

Jaune clasped his hands together like he was praying. "Please, Weiss! Just one duel! We could argue about utilitarianism versus deontology while trading blows! It'll be glorious!"

"No."

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'll let you go first!"

Weiss's eye twitched. "I said no."

Yang leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed, grinning. "She's not gonna fight you, Jaune. You'd flatten her in ten seconds and she knows it."

Weiss whirled on her, face red. "Excuse me?! I am perfectly capable of-"

Jaune's face lit up even more. "See?! Yang gets it! The thrill of testing your ideals against someone stronger-"

"That is NOT what she-!"

"Not like it would last long, given how fragile Weiss is," Blake opined, more than a little petty after the incident with Adam.

"He would not-! THAT DOLT WOULDN'T BEAT ME!" Weiss snarled.

"He would. Easily," Pyrrha stated.

Weiss's aura flared white-hot as her rage broke. She lunged, glyphs spinning beneath her feet, Myrtenaster thrusting forward in a perfect Atlas fencing strike.

Jaune's shield came up almost lazily. There was a sound like a church bell being hit by a freight train.

Weiss's strike shattered in a cascade of icy blue shards. She flew backward, landing hard on her back in the dust, eyes wide, breath knocked clean out of her.

The bandits collectively took one large step back.

Jaune lowered his shield, looking genuinely apologetic. "Weiss! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— are you okay?"

Weiss lay there, staring at the sky, chest heaving.

"...You stopped my attack... with one shield bash..."

Jaune knelt beside her, worried. "I really didn't mean to hit that hard! You just came in so fast and—"

Weiss sat up slowly, rubbing her sternum. "You absolute brute."

Jaune winced. "I said I was sorry! And we didn't even get to the debate part!"

Yang burst out laughing, doubling over. "Oh man, Weiss, your face—"

Ruby zipped over, helping Weiss to her feet. "That was kinda awesome, Jaune! But maybe don't break our teammates?"

Blake smirked. "This is why we can't have nice things."

Nora, who had been watching the whole thing with stars in her eyes, raised her hammer. "Okay, my turn! Jaune, debate me! Something about explosions and justice!"

Ren placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "No."

Pyrrha had a small look of pride... And a not so small smug look in her eyes as she looked over at Weiss. Though she hid it quickly.

The bandits, deciding this was not the easy score they'd planned, started edging toward the exits.

Jaune noticed and stood up, turning to them with renewed hope. "Wait! Any of you want to try? I'll go easy! We can talk about anarchism versus structured governance!"

The leader raised both hands. "Kid, we're just gonna... leave. You people are insane."

They fled.

Jaune watched them go, shoulders slumping.

"...Another disappointment."

Weiss, still rubbing her chest, muttered, "Next time you want a philosophical duel, find someone else to break."

"Says the loser," Blake sniped.

"I WILL END YOU!" Weiss snarled.

Jaune brightened instantly. "So there will be a next time?!"

Weiss shrieked and stormed off toward the saloon.

Yang slung an arm around Jaune's shoulders as they watched her go.

"You're never gonna get that debate, VB."

Jaune sighed wistfully. "A man can dream, Yang. A man can dream."
 
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Look, I love kemonomimi. Love Amiya- I mean, Velvet's design. Love cat girls. All that jazz. But if you told me that there is a kingdom of animal girls in the Remnant equivalent of Australia; I don't care if there are hot milfs in the area, NO ONE can pay me enough to go there! (no offence to my lower hemisphere bros, but your fauna scares the absolute shit out of me) I don't care if there are hot people there, you cannot convince me- did you say there were fox girls AND cat girls?....

hmmm....

What is the best spider repellant spray for the season? Especially the ones that don't bother faunus' sense of smell. Asking for a friend....
 
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