Author's Note: Hey all, I decided to get a story out in celebration of Valentine's Day and the Volume 3 finale of RWBY. I got the idea for a Blaked Alaska Valentine's comedy last year, but wasn't attached enough to write it then. With the finale being on V-Day itself, why not now?

This is among my most experimental fics, as I knew the ending but otherwise decided to let it run as it pleased. There are other ships in this story but it is overall Blaked Alaska, and I bestow it upon its other shippers, probably two in the end.

And this does lean toward crack, so it contains out of character aspects. Little edits were made February 16.

It's February 14 and Remnant is decked out in stunning displays of commercialism. Everywhere people go on this surprisingly warm day there's flowers, chocolates, little dust Cupids with arrows pointed in the shape of a heart.

It's a Sunday, so nobody at Beacon is going to class except for sparring junkies and those extra-credit guys dissecting livestock to learn about the workings of anatomy. Many students considered the irony of going to a monster-hunting school only to learn about the hypotheticals of how those monsters' bodies would work.

"Punch punch. Stabby stab. We don't need to hit vital nerves and just the right vertebra to stop a Grimm," said Yang to Blake during class once, as Neo the exchange student listened above them and Weiss wrote furiously in her notebook to retain Oobleck's lecture and drown her teammates out.

Today Blake, Yang, and Neo are on their way to lunch, not thinking about anything but what they'll eat, and on the way there they pass the building where the extra-credit biology lab is taking place. The students are really into it, and as the three girls walk by the front door, the chemicals the labs had been using to stabilize and preserve the organs reach an olfactory breaking point. The sickly-sweet scents of formalin and alcohol reach the girls' noses, and at once they all remember with a sickening plunge it's Valentine's Day.

They stop, and their eyes dart nervously toward each other. Are they all expecting a present?

"Whoever heard of taking extra credit on a Sunday?" Yang deflects after a pause.

"They're obviously either failing or just take their studies really seriously," says Blake.

Neo nods, and a hashtag magically appears in the air beside her: #indeed.

They all #laugh nervously, and their eyes dart away. At breakfast, they pretend to ignore the numerous displays of store-bought love and a couple dramatic confessions here and there. More than one pairing agrees to attend the fair set up to celebrate the profit from this day. Everyone who knows Nora starts betting how many prizes she'll win Ren.

Everyone except Blake, Yang, and Neo, that is. They're too busy trying to pretend they didn't forget it's Valentine's Day. Blake finishes her heart-shaped pancake, which had marshmallows and chocolate chips arranged in a smile. She says bye and leaves, after Yang reaches over Neo to wipe a spot of syrup off Blake's lip. Neo's next, giving Yang a brief and surprisingly rough squeeze before she marches off.

Yang finishes her food, walks composed past the blitzes of pink and red, and pelts to the dorms the second she's outside. Skidding on the tip of her heel, she grabs her wallet and a notebook and U-turns right back out into Ruby in the hall, who was texting Weiss on her Scroll.

Yang pauses, her body thrumming as she locks down her energy for her sister. "Hey Ruby," she says.

"Yes, Yang?" says Ruby, having no clue why Yang is behaving like this.

Yang slaps 50 lien into Ruby's hand. "This is for you. Don't tell Blake and Neo what day it is."

Ruby looks at the money. "Well, I'm pretty sure they already know it's Va—" Yang is already gone, but speeds back down the hall to pat Ruby on the head. She tears up the rug on her way around the corner. Ruby shrugs, pockets the money, and keeps walking.

Blake goes to the auto shop first, busting through the door with a kick that rattles its hinges. The door smacks the wall and everyone inside looks up.

"Valentine's Day," says Blake. "Gotta get something."

She's walked through the aisles, keeping track of the tags slid through the plastic price holders. She ponders carefully, mulling over what Yang could use the most. In the end she decides on new oil and polish for Yang's motorcycle, cleaning cloth included.

The guy at the counter tries to stiff her. "$43.72," he says, neglecting to factor in the Valentine's Day discount.

Blake doesn't like being stiffed. She leaves, and there's a crack in the aisles. Blake returns to the counter and holds up the price tags, which she'd yanked right off their metal rods.

"She knows math, bro," says one of the cashier's coworkers, leaning over beside him and using a finger to lower his shades from the bridge of his nose.

Blake slips the change back in her wallet, edging her fingers past the bulky plastic silver on her end of the fake police badges Neo had made her and Yang a month ago. It was illegal, and largely fashioned from the Dollar Store, but Blake had to admit, for a mostly law-abiding Faunus, sometimes it came in handy.

Yang powers up the city street, running through a mental thesaurus for words. "The blond strode smoothly by the apartments near the docks," she says, "on a mission to find the two Most Incredible Valentine's Day Gifts in Remnant History. Capitalized," she adds, fumbling for the pen she keeps in her wallet.

She pivots to the docks, flipping her head confidently before her boots begin to thump along the wood. This end of town wasn't everyone's choice of hangout, but Yang wasn't going to let the smell of rotting fish and seedy underground operations get in the way of her mighty quest. Or her fabulous hair.

She goes into the nearby seafood restaurant, walking past the long line of couples with lunchtime reservations to pluck a gift card from the rack by the counter. "The blond crossed back down the plush red carpet, duly blocking out the procession of proclamations of love," she writes in her notebook, moving aside a low-hanging balloon on her way to the back of her line. When she moves up to front, she scans the area and finds the only people who don't appear to be on a date are the burly sailors sitting around at the front booth. They sense her watching and turn to look at her.

"Hey girl," says the one with the toothpick, leaning his elbow onto the table to sit up straight. "Where's your sweetheart?"

Yang recognizes this as a friendly jab to a stranger—as friendly as a bunch of burly sailors can be. She chooses not to smash their table and instead turns around to pay for the gift card.

She opens her wallet. Her gut plunges. After paying her sister not to tell Blake and Neo what day it is, all Yang has left to charge onto the card is a buck 39. She closes the wallet, clips a smile at the guy waiting behind the counter. A million ideas run through her head.

She looks over her shoulder at the sailors, then back at the register, this time with the draw of a lazy grin. She places her arm on the table and leans forward.

"How about a wager," she says, thinking of how awesome it will be to write about this in the story. "I challenge these guys to an arm-wrestling competition," she says, pointing to the suddenly attentive sailors. "I win, they pay for this card. They win, I clean the kitchen until midnight."

It's a dream come true to the dishwasher girl who passes by, and a point of distraction from the holiday-addled rush of the register's shift. The sailors size up Yang's arms, take a moment to flex their own.

"Incredible," says Toothpick.

"She has no idea what she's getting into," says Bitsy Barne, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the ink of a daisy on her arm.

Yang grins and cracks her knuckles. She's going for Fish-Eye first.

It is outside in that same oceanic area that Neo has trailed a lab student and now lies in wait in some bushes, the camo outfit from the surplus store blending her in just as well as when she walked out with it. Her eyes flick to the keys dangling from the student's lanyard, and she waits for the moment to strike.

It takes a while for Blake to pick for Neo. She's stumped, knowing Neo has some strange ideas of the perfect gift.

Blake goes to the fair to brainstorm. She passes the billboard tacked with advertisements at concessions, observing the festivities for possibilities while Nora wins yet another prize for a Ren who can only be recognized by his light tan slacks. In the background, Weiss stands quietly to the side of a booth, her hands folded in front of her stomach as Ruby pays for yet another round of ring-tossing with money Blake doesn't know the origins of.

As Nora stands on her toes to place the stuffed snake on the top of Ren's tower, Blake takes a look at the assorted fair workers being forced to wear pinstripe suits to designate their status as employees. "Shame," she says at the unflattering sight.

It's been a couple hours since the auto shop and the oil is getting heavy. She goes under the shade of a four-pole canopy where a band is getting ready to perform their next number. Blake resists using the cloth to wipe the sweat off her forehead. She brushes it away with her fingers, moving the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and feeling her heartbeat lull during this break in her day.

The suit-clad group commences to prove bagpipes and accordions can go together. Blake adjusts herself on the grass and watches the fair go by. It appears Nora has somehow snagged a net for Ren to put his prizes in. She skips off behind one of the tents in the background and Ren follows behind, bemused.

The heat is surprising for the middle of February. Blake dozes off and wakes to the sound of two familiar voices laughing loudly up her way. She watches as Coco stumbles across the grass with a stage light in one hand and Velvet in the other, her eyebrows rising in a shocked grin as she looks through the gap between Velvet's ears.

"Oh my god," says Velvet, not daring to look over the cords looped over her shoulder.

"Everyone make way, the circus's come to town," says Coco, and they run off toward the outdoors theatre at the other end of the fair. Blake looks to the right, and her eyes widen at the sight of the fair's unfortunate acting troupe, dressed in budgeted clown attire and wearing frowns all the makeup in the in the world can't hide. Blake does not envy them, but as they lumber past toward the temporary calling of their stage, she is struck with a solution. She gets up and goes to rifle through the advertisements on the billboard.

"The blond emerged triumphant. All in the restaurant gazed upon her in awe, and she left behind a trail of admirers as she pocketed the $50 gift card for her sweetheart. In so wrestling the band of sailors to their ultimate defeat, she became Queen of Vale's Maritime History. Capitalized."

This is what Yang says when she leaves the restaurant. She stops to scribble down the lines, relishing in the memory of beating each opponent in adrenaline-fueled succession. "Next up," she says, snapping the notebook shut, "finding the perfect gift for the silent and tyrannically pampered second sweetheart."

After some thought, she simply returns to the docks and stands around in wait. Soon enough, a couple shady-looking guys come shuffling up the street in black coats much too long for this unusually hot day. Yang calculates how much weaponry could be stored under the leather, then the potential reward for turning these guys in. She drops her notebook on the sidewalk and puts a hand in her pocket. She waves to the suspicious characters.

"Yoo-hoo! Hey, boys!"

They turn to her, both wearing shades on their square faces, then look at each other. "What's she doing?" Yang hears the guy on the left say.

"I don't know. Just keep walking."

Yang gives them another little wave and comes closer, making sure to sway her shoulders. The men halt when she approaches them, giving them a wink and twirling a lock of golden hair in her finger.

"Do you need something?" the guy on the left says when it's clear she won't be moving.

"Just the time," says Yang. "And something sweet for my little lover back home."

The shady characters lean back. "Blondie, it's been a long day," Righty says as his partner in probable crime puts a hand on his forehead. "We're just trying to get home."

"What, with presents for your own girls?" says Yang.

She bends forward, her eyes trained on theirs, so that they pause and hover their hands over the linings of their coats. "Or," says Yang, "is your attire so bulky and so large to hide things you shouldn't be carrying?"

"Blondie, I don't know what you're saying, but—" Righty's attempt to bluff has been foiled by Lefty's quick temper. He draws a weapon from his coat. It is a bottle opener that is also a knife, that is also a gun. He points it at Yang's chest.

"I wouldn't want to use this on such a pretty lady," he says in a clownishly lower voice than his comrade, "but sometimes you gotta learn to keep your nose in your own business."

He hasn't struck yet, but Yang doesn't want to risk a black eye on the loveliest day of the year. She sidles past the Scroll in her pocket, and instead her fingers settle on the fashionably fake item she had waited a month to use.

"Oh, so you got your own weapon, too?" Righty says in more exasperation than anything else as he watches Yang close her fist around the object in her pocket.

Yang lifts the fake police badge from her pocket into the air, and the smile on her face grows wider right before she rears back to punch Lefty on the nose.

Ruby and Weiss are pretty surprised to hear sirens downtown as they leave the fair. Maybe someone tried to steal chocolate or something.

They contemplate the tiny smiling heart stuffed with cotton that Weiss is holding between two fingers. Ruby had insisted winning Weiss something at the games for fun, and after tossing so many rings she was sure even the guy managing the game was getting sick of her, she had whittled away Yang's unnecessary bribe to a paltry 15 cents. The sound of plastic bouncing off empty glass is still hammering in her ears. "Just stop," the bottle guy had said, as she'd brought out the remainder of her lien for another try. "Here. You try way too hard, kid." He'd handed her the least appealing prize on the rack, a heart so tiny Ruby at first did not see it was there. Ruby had shrugged, and given it to Weiss, who glanced at the stuffed puppy on the rack before taking the heart gently and saying thank you.

Being Weiss, this was not an effort to go unrequited. She had torn up the target-hitting booths to win something for Ruby, throwing and spearing and pulling triggers until she'd realized she still wasn't hitting anything. "These are rigged," she'd exclaimed with a stomp, before buying Ruby an ice cream and waiting for her to finish at a table in the afternoon sun.

They walk towards campus now, and Weiss holds up the stuffed heart in front of her chest. The silence hangs between them. Weiss feels the cloth around the heart with both hands, unconsciously. Her eyes flit at Ruby. "You know they were rigged, right?" she says. "My aim is way better."

"They were rigged, Weiss," Ruby goes along, trying to hold down the smile.

They pass Blake, who has been hurrying to the dorms with two canisters in hand. She ties lacy ribbon around the handles, then sits on her bed and waits. Yang returns first, opening the door with a wind of confidence following her into the room.

"Just been finishing up this story I wrote you," she says, feeling her heart drop when she realizes it will prove she forgot what day it is. She closes the door, catches sight of the oil and cleaner on the floor. "For me? You shouldn't have."

Blake's eyes light at the card and she settles in beside Yang to read the story. "Was the guy really named Fish-Eye?" she says.

She stifles a snort at the fight scene, putting a hand in front of her lips. "So after Lefty and Righty got arrested by the real police, you didn't say a word about the badge."

"And risk them trying to make me a rookie cop? I just flashed the badge for dramatic effect."

"'And so the blond exited the docks with a hard-won card and the very same box of chocolates she'd recovered from Righty the Goon, free from charge since the guy from the candy store was glad to get the rest of his stuff back. Not only that, it turns out she had also busted a dust-sniffing operation after the real police searched through the long black jackets. And she was told it was approximately 3:32 PM. The end'," Blake concludes, looking at the drawing of Yang standing atop of pile of fallen foes. "You know, I had to use my badge to clear the line out at the costume shop."

"You did?"

"Yeah. They were selling tickets to a cosplay contest and a million people were already there. I ended up saying there'd been reports of unethical Faunus labor supplying the store. I put on the persona, looked official. Nobody stopped me when I picked one of the tickets off for myself."

"A lawfully dubious action for Neo to show off one of her greatest passions," Yang says in amazement; Neo's gift could not be greater. "She's got this in the bag. She'll win this contest…"

"And lowkey threaten anyone who gets in her way," says Blake.

"Where is she, anyway? I haven't seen her since lunch."

There is a knock at the door, and Blake and Yang stand up. They open the door to see Neo in a lab coat with a set of keys chained to her belt, peering up at them from behind the preserved mass of a giant pig's heart.

She waits for them, so pleased with her work. Yang puts up her hands.

"Thank you, Neo," says Blake.

They put it in the freezer. Neo goes off to wash her hands as Yang adds a postscript to her story and Blake simply sits on her bed, biting her thumbnail in apprehension of the moment Weiss will wake for ice cream at midnight.