RWBY SFW Alphabet: Jaune Arc.
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Jaune’s affection manifests in small, meaningful gestures rather than grand declarations. You notice it in the way he hovers close enough to shield you from harm, even when there’s no danger nearby, or how he absentmindedly shifts his stance so you’re always walking on the safer side of a path. His love isn’t loud—it’s protective, patient, and quietly constant. When he does let his guard down enough to show it, his touches are hesitant but gentle—rough fingertips brushing your knuckles, a soft squeeze of your shoulder before a mission, or a clumsy attempt to make you laugh when you seem down. After everything he’s lost, Jaune doesn’t take affection lightly; every act of care feels sacred to him. He gives it like he’s afraid it could be the last time, yet he never holds back enough for you to doubt how much he feels.
Sometimes, his affection comes through words instead of actions—awkward and heartfelt all at once. He’ll tell you that you make him feel like the world isn’t as heavy, then immediately fumble over his next sentence, cheeks turning red as he tries to play it off. But when it’s just the two of you in the quiet, there’s no pretense. He listens—truly listens—to your rambling thoughts, smiling softly when you catch him watching you like you’re something worth fighting for. In those moments, it’s clear how deep his love runs: steady, selfless, and tinged with the melancholy of someone who’s learned the cost of losing people he treasures.
B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
Your friendship with Jaune would start in the most down-to-earth way imaginable—probably with him trying to help you out and accidentally making a fool of himself in the process. Maybe he offers to spar and takes a hit he didn’t see coming, or maybe he insists on carrying something for you only to drop it halfway. What starts as awkward gestures of goodwill quickly turns into mutual understanding; you see through his flustered attempts at being heroic, and he appreciates that you don’t mock him for it. Before long, you’re sharing meals, laughing over bad jokes, and tagging along on training sessions that somehow always end in him proudly showing off a new move that doesn’t quite go as planned. He’s earnest, genuine, and refreshingly open—someone who might stumble over his words but would never stumble in his loyalty.
As a best friend, Jaune is the definition of ride-or-die. He celebrates your smallest victories like they’re headline-worthy, offers pep talks that are a mix of heartfelt sincerity and awkward humor, and shows up the second you need him, no matter how exhausted he is. You’d catch him looking out for you without being obvious about it—checking your gear before missions, covering for you when you’re running late, and always keeping a spot for you beside him at campfires. Even when the world feels heavy, he won’t let you carry it alone. What makes Jaune special isn’t just his loyalty—it’s how deeply he values his friends. Once you have his trust, you’re not just part of his life; you’re part of the reason he keeps pushing forward.
C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Jaune absolutely likes to cuddle, though he wouldn’t always admit it outright. In the early days, when he still stumbled over his own words and blushed too easily, cuddling felt like one of those rare moments where he didn’t have to say anything to prove himself. He’s the kind of person who craves that closeness more than he realizes — the warmth, the quiet, the assurance that he’s still needed. When you rest against him, you can feel how he relaxes by degrees, his heartbeat slowing as his arms tighten around you. The hero façade melts away, leaving only Jaune — soft-spoken, protective, a little awkward, but deeply yearning for human contact after everything he’s lost.
When he cuddles, it’s always about making you feel safe first. He’ll pull you into his chest, wrapping those strong arms around you in a way that says I’ve got you — you don’t have to carry the world right now. His body runs warm, and sometimes he’ll hum quietly — a habit from nights where silence used to hurt. If he’s had a long day or his mind drifts back to darker places, he might hold you just a little too tightly, grounding himself through your presence. But once you turn to face him and thread your fingers through his hair, he loosens up again, that nervous smile tugging at his lips. For Jaune, cuddling isn’t just affection — it’s healing, proof that he’s still capable of loving and being loved after everything he’s endured.
D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Jaune’s idea of settling down comes with quiet hesitation rather than open eagerness. He’s the kind of man who dreams about it in moments he wouldn’t admit aloud — like when he catches you smiling across a dinner table or when night falls and the house goes still enough for his thoughts to whisper. He wants it: a home that doesn’t crumble under battle, mornings that start with warmth instead of alarms, and the kind of peace that doesn’t need to be earned through sacrifice. But wanting and believing he deserves it are two different battles. After everything — Pyrrha, Penny, the Ever After — he’s wary of happiness, almost afraid of it. So while he might not talk about it often, you can see it in small ways: how he lingers when you mention future plans, or how the way he holds you feels like an apology and a promise all at once.
E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
When it comes to cooking and cleaning, Jaune is earnest but—let’s be honest—a little chaotic. You’ll find him humming while wearing an apron backwards, or battling with a frying pan that’s decided to rebel. He’s learned through trial and error, and while his food isn’t flawless, it always manages to taste like effort and care. Cleaning, on the other hand, appeals to his need for structure; it’s something he can control in a world that’s taken too much from him. He’ll scrub floors and fix creaky hinges between chuckles about how “hero work never ends.” Domestic life mellows him — he’s still a little clumsy, still unsure — but there’s a quiet sincerity in the way he builds a home with his hands, one simple act at a time.
If Jaune ever had to end things, it would break him long before he found the words to do it. He’s the kind of person who second-guesses himself all the way to the conversation—rehearsing lines, hating all of them, and finally deciding honesty is the only thing he can offer. When he sits down with you, his voice is quiet and his shoulders heavy, guilt already written across his face. He’d tell you he still cares, that this isn’t your fault, that he just… isn’t the man he needs to be right now. There wouldn’t be any anger or coldness, just pain and sincerity, the kind that makes every word feel like it’s cutting him in half. Even after he says it, he’ll linger—helping you up, brushing a tear from your cheek, whispering that you deserve better than someone still trying to fix himself. And once you’re gone, he won’t move for a long while, staring at the empty space where love just used to sit.
F= Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Commitment, to Jaune, carries a gravity few others could truly understand. After years defined by loss, duty, and failed promises, he sees love as something both precious and fragile—a vow not to be made lightly. When he gives his heart, it’s not a half-measure; it’s everything he is, flaws and all. The idea of being engaged, of building a life with someone, feels like a quiet miracle to him—a second chance he never thought he’d earn. But it also scares him, because commitment means trusting that joy won’t vanish again like it has before. He’d wrestle with that fear in silence, trying to convince himself that this time, it’s different—that this time, he deserves to be happy without something being taken away.
G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionaly?)
He wouldn’t rush into marriage, no matter how deeply he feels for you. Jaune would want to build a foundation strong enough to weather anything the world might throw at you both. He’d want to know what kind of life you dream of, how you handle conflict, what your quiet moments look like—all the “small” details he sees as lifelines more than checkboxes. The moment he proposes wouldn’t be impulsive; it would come after months, maybe years, of quiet certainty growing in his heart. Still, when he finally does it, the timing won’t matter. He’ll look at you like you’re the one good thing that made all his battles worth surviving and say, with total conviction, “I don’t want to fight for the world anymore—I want to build one with you.”
Jaune’s gentleness is instinctive but clumsy—an overflow of compassion housed in a body still learning its strength. He’s careful in his touches and tone, sometimes too much so, fumbling his words or second-guessing himself because he never wants to accidentally hurt someone. Emotionally, he wears his heart on his sleeve; his care runs deep and sincere, though he doesn’t always know how to express it without tripping over his own feelings. He’s the kind of boy who apologizes even when he hasn’t done anything wrong, who squeezes your hand too softly just to make sure you’re comfortable. But as he grows older, that gentle nature doesn’t fade—it sharpens into something steadier, something deliberate. After everything he’s lost, Jaune’s touch becomes quieter, more meaningful; every movement feels carefully measured, a silent promise that he won’t take warmth or trust for granted again. His emotional gentleness becomes tempered by wisdom and restraint. He still loves softly, but now he knows the weight that love carries—and he’ll meet your heart with both tenderness and a gravity that says: you are safe with me.
H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Jaune’s hugs are inexperienced but full of heart—awkward at first, then tightening with a sincerity that makes up for everything he lacks in grace. He’s a tactile soul even if he doesn’t realize it, using touch as a way to express what words fumble to say. Early on, he hugs often and easily, sometimes too quickly, like he’s trying to fill the silence or reassure himself and you that everything’s okay. Those hugs overflow with warmth and nervous energy, his arms a little unsure of where they belong until he finally relaxes into you. Back then, he hugs because he wants to connect, because some part of him believes that just holding someone can make the world hurt a little less.
|= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
As he grows older—weathered by loss, guilt, and time—his hugs become something rarer, deeper, and infinitely more deliberate. Each one carries the weight of all he’s survived, an unspoken gratitude for being allowed to feel closeness again. He doesn’t hug as often anymore, but when he does, it’s an event. His arms wrap completely around you, strong and steady, like a promise that no matter what he’s endured, he’s still capable of gentleness. His touch lingers, holding you long after the moment calls for it, because he’s learned that love isn’t permanent and comfort shouldn’t be rationed. Older Jaune doesn’t hug to chase away sadness—he hugs to remind you, and himself, that he’s still here, still human, and still capable of love despite everything that tried to take it from him.
Jaune doesn’t say “I love you” quickly — not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he feels it too much. He’s learned the weight of those words through loss, through years of regret and moments where saying them too late left scars that never faded. With you, he takes his time, letting every laugh, touch, and quiet night together build into something he can trust. You’ll see it before you hear it — in the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how he always makes sure you’re safe before himself. When he finally says it, it’s probably a soft, stumbling confession in the middle of something ordinary, like fixing your armor or cooking dinner. His voice will shake a little, his cheeks flush, but there’s no hesitation in his eyes — just pure, wholehearted sincerity, like he’s finally let himself believe he deserves this love too.
J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)
Jaune doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, it’s a quiet storm — the kind that brews behind those blue eyes while he tries to convince himself he’s overreacting. He’s not the type to lash out or cause a scene; instead, he folds into himself. You’ll notice it in the way he grows quieter, his laugh coming a little too late, his smile not reaching his eyes. He starts overthinking, replaying every word or gesture you shared with someone else, measuring himself against them, wondering if he’s enough. His jealousy rarely looks angry — it looks like insecurity dressed up as patience. Deep down, he’s terrified of losing someone he loves again, and that fear gets tangled up with every ounce of longing and self-doubt he carries.
When the jealousy finally spills over, it comes through small, clumsy gestures. He’ll hover closer to you than usual, or his arm might find its way around your shoulders a little too protectively. Sometimes, he’ll deflect with humor — “He’s not your type, right?” — trying to keep the conversation light even while his tone cracks just a bit. If pressed, he’ll admit what’s bothering him, but not before apologizing for it first, as if caring too much is something he should be sorry for. You always end up easing his worries by grounding him — a touch to his arm, a reminder that he’s not replaceable. And once that reassurance sinks in, Jaune softens back into himself, the jealousy dissolving as he wraps you up in a hug that says I’m okay now… and thank you for choosing me.
Jaune’s kisses are a reflection of his heart—earnest, gentle, and full of emotion he doesn’t always know how to express in words. When he kisses you, it’s never rushed; he takes a breath first, as if grounding himself in the moment, wanting to be sure you want it as much as he does. His lips are warm, steady, and lingering—each kiss a quiet promise that he’ll protect and cherish you no matter what comes. Sometimes, his hands tremble just slightly against your cheek or waist, not from fear but from the overwhelming depth of affection and gratitude he feels in getting to have you close. In those moments, the playful boy from Beacon and the weary knight he’s become meet in perfect harmony—a man rebuilding hope one kiss at a time.
K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
L= Little ones (How are they around children?)
Jaune loves to place his kisses on your forehead and hands the most. To him, it’s a way of showing devotion and respect—the kind of love that doesn’t demand anything in return. But when he’s feeling more open, when the weight of the world isn’t pressing quite so hard on his shoulders, he’ll press soft kisses to your lips or the corner of your mouth, smiling through them like he’s seeing light after a long night. As for where he likes to be kissed—it’s his jaw or the scarred curve of his cheek. Those places make him feel human again, grounding him from the ghosts of what he’s been through. When your lips find those spots, he blushes and laughs a little under his breath, whispering your name like a secret he never wants to lose.
M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Jaune is absolutely the kind of person who lights up around children—every ounce of his awkward charm and softness doubles whenever little ones are involved. When he’s younger, he’s an overgrown kid himself, getting talked into playing tag or sword fighting with sticks until everyone’s laughing too hard to keep going. He’s clumsy but endlessly patient, the kind of guy who’ll kneel down so he’s eye level when they speak and act genuinely impressed by their wild stories. As he gets older, that easygoing playfulness is still there, but with a gentler, more protective edge—he starts watching over them the way he wished someone had watched over him. He’s the one who fixes scraped knees, listens to rambling kid logic with full attention, and finds warmth in their laughter, a reminder of the innocence he’s fought so hard to protect. Around children, Jaune doesn’t feel like a hero—he just feels human again.
Mornings with Jaune shift in rhythm over time but never lose their tender simplicity. When he’s young, he’s a mess of bed head and mismatched socks, stumbling out of bed in his bunny slippers and grinning sheepishly when you tease him about it. Breakfasts with him are loud, full of chatter, and sprinkled with awkward charm—he’ll burn toast, spill juice, but somehow still make the moment feel warm and alive. As he matures, mornings grow quieter, more intentional. He’s up earlier now, sometimes already training or cooking for you before you’ve even stirred awake. You’ll find him humming softly, sunlight catching in his hair, his armor pushed off to the side while he sets two mugs of coffee down—one for him, one for you. He doesn’t say much in those hushed moments, but the glances, the easy smiles, and the soft brush of his hand against yours say everything they need to: you’re his peace before the day’s weight returns.
N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)
Nights with Jaune change as he grows, but they always carry that same quiet warmth he gives so naturally. When he’s young, they’re clumsy, funny, and soft—you staying up too late in Beacon’s dorms, whispering between giggles as he tries not to laugh too loud and get caught. He rambles about training, his dreams of being a hero, the silly family stories he pretends not to miss, and somewhere in the middle of it all, he falls asleep mid-sentence with his hand still reaching for yours. As he gets older, those nights settle into something gentler but heavier—he stays close, resting silently beside you, sometimes lost in thought as if part of him is still carrying those ghosts he can’t quite put down. He doesn’t need words anymore; your presence alone is what steadies him now. Whether it’s laughter under the stars or quiet comfort in the dark, every night with him feels like a promise that no matter how much time or pain has passed, he’s still that same boy who finds peace just by having you there.
O= Open: (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)
When you first meet Jaune, you get the friendly, talkative version of him—the one who fills silences with mild jokes, self-deprecating stories, and the kind of charm that’s trying a little too hard. At first, it feels like you know him well because of how open he seems, but the truth is he keeps anything real locked up tight. His insecurities, his doubts, the weight of living in his family’s shadow—all of that stays hidden beneath his easy smiles. He doesn’t lie exactly, but he talks around things, testing if you’re safe to trust before he ever lets the honesty spill out. He’s so desperate to seem brave and capable that vulnerability feels like weakness, and that’s the one thing he’s terrified to show.
Then one day, without warning, he starts telling the truth. It’s not in some dramatic confession, but in the middle of an ordinary moment—a quiet patrol, a late-night conversation, an accidental slip of emotion that catches him off guard. That’s how Jaune is; he doesn’t reveal everything in one big burst, he unravels slowly, crisis by crisis, as comfort grows. Every time he opens up, it’s with a little more trust in your reaction, a little more belief that you’ll stay and not see him differently. Eventually, you learn that for Jaune, revealing himself isn’t about courage or timing—it’s about finally feeling safe enough to stop pretending he’s already the hero he wants to be.
Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
When he’s young, Jaune’s patience feels endless—he laughs things off, stumbles through frustration, and tries to be the peacemaker even when his nerves are stretched thin. He doesn’t get angry easily, mostly because he’s too busy trying to prove himself or avoid disappointing anyone. But as he grows older, that patience takes on a different weight. The years and losses carve something heavier into him; he learns restraint not because he’s naïve, but because he’s tired. Still, that same exhaustion means when his anger does surface, it’s sharper, quieter—a flash of heat hidden behind clenched fists and gritted teeth. By then, he’s not mad over insults or setbacks anymore. What angers him isn’t disrespect—it’s people getting hurt when he could’ve stopped it… especially you.
R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
Jaune falls somewhere right in the middle—he’s not perfect, but he tries so hard, and that effort shows in the sweetest ways. He’ll forget small offhand things, like what day you said you had a test or the name of that book you were reading, but then surprise you later by recalling something you mentioned once months ago. He remembers how you take your coffee, the stories about your family, the way your voice changes when you’re nervous—details that matter not because of memory, but because they mean something to him. Sometimes he even jots things down in his scroll, pretending it’s for “strategy notes,” though it’s really just to make sure he never forgets anything that could make you smile.
Still, Jaune can be scatterbrained, especially when he’s juggling training and team duties. If he forgets something, he beats himself up over it like he just lost a battle. You can see the guilt in his blue eyes, followed by that familiar, boyish determination as he tries to make it up to you tenfold. A forgotten favorite flower turns into a whole handmade bouquet; a missed detail becomes a chance for him to listen more closely next time. Deep down, Jaune’s memory of you isn’t built on perfect recall—it’s built on heart. He might miss the tiny things in the moment, but every memory of you lives in him like a promise he refuses to let go of.
Jaune’s favorite moment in your relationship isn’t one of the big, dramatic ones—it’s that quiet night after a long day of training, when the world felt simple again. You’d both snuck out to watch the stars from Beacon’s rooftops, your hands brushing every so often, laughter catching between words too shy to say out loud. He still remembers the way you looked at him when he rambled about wanting to be a real hero—how you didn’t laugh, didn’t tease, just believed him without doubt. That look, that quiet faith, made his heart feel steadier than any sword or armor ever had. Even now, every time he doubts himself, he sees that night in his mind—the stars, your smile, and the feeling that being “enough” wasn’t some distant dream, because with you, he already was.
S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
Jaune protects you with an instinct born from love and guilt—both fierce and gentle in equal measure. When danger draws close, he doesn't hesitate; his body moves before his mind can catch up, shield already up, sword flashing with the conviction of someone who’s seen too much loss. You can see it in his eyes—he’s not just defending you, he’s defying the universe’s cruelty, daring it to take someone else from him. He’ll stand in front of you even when you tell him not to, even when he’s hurt, muttering something about “that’s what a knight does.” Between battles, his protectiveness softens into quiet acts—checking your gear, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, or lingering nearby when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s not suffocating; it’s reverent. You can feel how much he values you in every small, thoughtful thing he does.
But Jaune also craves protection, though he’d never admit it out loud. Beneath the armor and the hero’s front, he wants someone who’ll remind him that he doesn’t have to carry all the weight alone. He likes when you reach for his hand after a hard day, grounding him in the present. He likes when you pull him close and whisper that he’s done enough, that he deserves rest. What protects him most isn’t your strength or your weapon—it’s your willingness to see the human under the knight. To guard his heart the same way he guards your life.
When it comes to you, Jaune puts in every ounce of effort he has—sometimes to the point of overthinking everything. He isn’t flashy or smooth, but his heart shows in every small detail: the way he remembers your favorite drink, how he cleans his armor early so he doesn’t show up late, or the little notes he slips somewhere you’ll find them later. Dates with him aren’t extravagant; they’re genuine, the kind of quiet moments you both end up remembering because he poured so much sincerity into them. Anniversaries are sacred—he’ll spend days planning, terrified of disappointing you, often roping in his teammates for help but still somehow messing up something endearingly small, like forgetting the candles. Even with everyday tasks, he takes them seriously if they involve you—washing dishes turns into playful teamwork, and errands become excuses to hold your hand. You can tell he tries too hard sometimes, but only because loving you gives him a sense of purpose he never wants to take for granted.
U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
When it comes to Jaune, his bad habits are the kind that creep in quietly and eat at you over time—habits born from guilt, pride, and exhaustion. You notice how he overworks himself to the point of collapse, clinging to the idea that if he just does more, maybe he can undo all the failures piling up in his head. He deflects concern with forced smiles and bad jokes, pretending everything’s fine even when he’s shaking from the weight he carries. He never asks for help, and when you offer, he brushes it off like it’s nothing—as if burdening someone else would make him weak. His anger is rare but sharp; when it surfaces, it’s usually at himself, not others. You sometimes catch him staring off, zoned out in those long silences, replaying what-ifs he can’t let go of. Worst of all, he measures his worth by the people he can save—so when he can’t, he acts like he’s the one who needs saving.
V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
When it comes to vanity, you notice that Jaune’s relationship with his looks is more layered than it seems. He’s not vain in the traditional sense—he doesn’t preen or obsess over his appearance—but there's an undercurrent of insecurity tied to how he wants to be seen. In his Beacon days, he wanted to look the part of a hero—strong, confident, worthy of his family’s legacy—so every bit of armor and polish on his Pumpkin Pete hoodie meant more than fashion; it was an attempt to wear his dreams. Over time, that concern shifted inward. After the Fall of Beacon and especially during his years as the Rusted Knight, his appearance stopped being about impressing others and became something closer to armor in the emotional sense—maintaining his gear, trimming his hair, keeping himself presentable because if he let that go, it would mean admitting he’d given up. He may not care if his hair’s a little messy or his armor’s scuffed, but you can tell he measures himself against the image of who he thinks he should be. So, in a quiet, almost tragic way, yes—Jaune does care about how he looks, not for vanity’s sake, but because it’s one of the last things that connects him to the hero he still hopes he can be.
W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
Jaune would feel incomplete without you, though he wouldn’t admit it easily. He’s spent so much of his life trying to hold himself together for everyone else that the idea of needing someone scares him, even if that someone is you. But deep down, you’ve become his quiet constant — the warmth that anchors him when the world feels too heavy, the voice that reminds him he’s more than his mistakes and losses. When you’re gone, even for a while, his armor feels heavier, the silence around him sharper. He tries to fill it with routine — training, patrols, hero work — but there’s a hollowness in it, like swinging a sword without the will behind it. You’re not his whole world, but you’ve become the missing piece that reminds him what living feels like, not just surviving. When he’s near you, he doesn’t have to be the leader, or the knight, or even the hero — just Jaune. And that’s what he’d fear losing most.
X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
Jaune hums when he concentrates. Not an actual tune — just low, absentminded noises that slip out when he’s focused on repairing his weapon, cooking, or even tending to wounds after a mission. You’ve caught him doing it more times than he realizes, and it’s such a soft, almost subconscious thing that it feels revealing — like hearing the calm under his storm. Back at Beacon, his teammates used to tease him by trying to guess what “song” he was humming; now, after everything he’s been through, it’s quieter, rarer, almost like a reflex that only shows up when he feels safe or comfortable. The first time you hear it again, after the Ever After, it nearly breaks your heart — because it means he’s healing, slowly, and letting that little piece of his old self resurface.
Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)
You learn pretty quickly that Jaune’s dislikes aren’t born out of pettiness — they come from the kind of heart that’s been bruised too many times but still tries to stay kind. He can’t stand arrogance or cruelty; anyone who looks down on others, picks on someone weaker, or treats kindness like a weakness crawls right under his skin. Lies and manipulation are another sore spot — probably because he knows too well what it feels like to carry guilt and secrets. He gets uncomfortable around people who belittle teamwork or only care about glory; nothing frustrates him more than someone who thinks being a hero is about looking cool instead of protecting others. In a partner, he’d struggle with callousness — that glacial, “don’t care about people” type of attitude would crush him faster than any fight could. Selfishness, dishonesty, and the emotional coldness that shuts others out — those are the real turns-offs for Jaune Arc. If you treat people with compassion, though, and love him with quiet sincerity? That’s where you’ll find his heart, every time.
Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
Jaune’s sleep habits have always been a quiet reflection of how much he’s grown — from the awkward, blanket-thieving rookie you knew back at Beacon, to the battle-worn leader who now sleeps like a man constantly fighting his own thoughts. Back in his school days, he used to conk out the second his head hit the pillow, starfished across the bed with his Pumpkin Pete pajamas all wrinkled, snoring softly while dreaming of heroics and training success. You used to laugh at how he’d mumble pep talks to himself in his sleep or accidentally roll right off the bed mid-dream. But now, years later, there’s a heaviness to the way he sleeps — shoulders tight, breaths shallow, sometimes snapping awake from half-remembered nightmares he won’t talk about. When you stay close, though, his tension fades quicker; he’ll unconsciously reach for your hand or lean toward your warmth, as if some part of him still remembers the boy who slept soundly believing the world was safe. Nights like that, when his heartbeat finally evens out against yours, you can almost feel the two parts of him — the boy and the knight — finally at peace, if only for a moment.
