This fic's title is changing. To: Please Pick up your Banana Peels. It was originally supposed to be a title more reminiscent of Please Stop Eating the Hell Butterflies but, at the time, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to be the running thread. I now know.

MR. WUKONG- DO YOU REALLY THINK DROPPING OUT OF THE VYTAL FESTIVAL AND SENDING THE REST OF YOUR TEAM BACK TO HAVEN WILL SAVE YOU?

DID YOU THINK I WOULD CHUCKLE AND WHISPER, "HE GOT ME" WHEN I FOUND MY OFFICE FLOODED WITH PEELS?

YOU'D BEST SLEEP WITH YOUR ARMED BODYGUARD'S EYES WIDE OPEN MR. WUKONG. I DON'T NEED TO BE ABLE TO PROVE YOU DID IT TO MAKE YOU WISH YOU HADN'T.

Professor Peach- I know we haven't spoken in a while (entirely your fault) but I need a favor. Do you have any incendiary-ice dust? I need just the right amount to cause no lasting damage but horrifyingly severe burning and cooling pain on an aura boosted-individual. Make sure your measure accounts for fur and the musculature of a prehensile tail.

Mr. Arc I heard you…

"Singing"

Over the last semester, Mr. Arc, I've had a lot of questions about life.

Why does evil purport itself despite humanity's best intentions?

Why does innocence die even in those who remain true to their goodness?

Why is our world one of nightmares, of monsters that feed on fear itself?

Why is Jaune Arc at Beacon?

While the first three are a little more comfortable to consider, that last one I wasn't even able to hazard a guess.

Not even a guess.

But after hearing you play and croon that…one-of-a-kind ballad for Ms. Schnee's benefit.

I finally have a probable theory concerning one of life's greatest mysteries.

Your only options were huntsman and musician, correct? You chose the one least likely to cause irreparable harm to society as a whole.

An admirable choice.

Welcome to the O-Zone- How did you change my autocorrect again!? I had the I.T. guy reset it, then I changed my password. HOW DID YOU GET ON MY COMPUTER? AGAIN? Welcome to the Ozone, I swear to god, if you don't stop this…

In other news. You fired the school's medical staff.

Care to explain the logic behind that one?

"Cutting costs", has never been a priority for you. And firing doctors at your combat school isn't how you cut costs anyway.

Besides, the school's been doing well. Are you just cutting costs as a precaution?

Although it's the stupidest and most ridiculous way you could do it. I'm proud of you Welcome to the O-zone for finally embracing the responsibilities of your station—even if it does mean I'll have to rehire and file hundreds of pages of paperwork…

IS THAT WHAT YOU EXPECTED ME TO SAY?

I REVIEW THE DAMN LEDGERS WELCOME TO THE O-ZONE!

WHY IS THERE A SEVEN FIGURE EXPENSE LABELED "Remove ingredient X from water supply"!?

SOUNDS TO ME LIKE WE NEED DOCTORS MORE THAN EVER.

YOU'D BEETER HAVE A DAMN GOOD EXPLANATION.

Ms. Rose- Please stop following Mr. Daichi around. He is growing quite concerned. What you saw the other day, when he was whispering to his blade—that was him having a mental breakdown. Popping out of unexpected places, such as his bed covers, closet, locker, and shower curtains—and asking "you hear them too?"

It's a little much.

And if it's not a joke, please see Doctor Oobleck—he's back at human-tangible speeds—well, at least speeds tangible to individuals with good eyesight—and he's also the closest thing we have to a real doctor right now.

The Genteel Thief King of Vale- How. Just how did you get access to my autocorrect too?

At first I assumed that you had nothing to do with it. That it was all Welcome to the O-Zone's doing.

But then I found the surprises on my desktop.

Not even Welcome to the O-Zone could be so crass—although, I suppose he might have assisted you without knowing just how far you intended to go. Either way, I know you didn't pull it off on your own.

Was it Ozpin?

Or was it your underage companion?

Either way, understand that there will be consequences for this.

Consequences your mind will not like, and your body will not understand.

Ms. Xia-Long- You wouldn't happen to know, Ms. Xia-Long, who went about all of Beacon proclaiming that my statements made to Mr. Vasilias last week were not metaphors?

You wouldn't happen to know who spread the word that I had, in fact, slept with the real Neptune—an ancient mythological being—thousands of years old? A being that was last claimed to have been spotted over 1800 years ago.

You wouldn't know who started the rumor that I was around for that sighting?

That I was the one who spotted him?

You wouldn't happen to be calling me old, would you Ms. Xia-Long?

I hardly know what I would do if this was the case.

But it's a moot point. Surely you wouldn't. Surely your self-preservation instincts are stronger than that…

In other news, I'm changing your punishment for the locker-room debacle from detention to my personal sparring assistant.

I've been feeling my skills decline in my old age—figured a strong youthful girl such as yourself could help me cling to my last vestiges of power. Same time as the detentions were going to be.

Make sure you bring a change of clothes and bandages to our sessions.

Ms. Nikos- As highly irregular as the request is, I've decided to grant you and Mr. Arc a training retreat. Given your prestigious background and obvious skills—and the…room Mr. Arc shows for improvement, a few days away from the school, full of intense, nonstop, never-ending, blood-pumping training between just the two of you could work wonders. Usually these sorts of retreats are undertaken in the woods—but if you think the Four Seasons of Vale hotel would be better—because of their amazing training accommodations (which I had not heard about, to be honest) then I will leave the choice of venue up to you.

Please, make Mr. Arc into a man.

Whether he thinks he can withstand your methods or not.

Ms. Belladonna- Mr. Pesci informed me that you asked him for, "a taste." What you meant by that, I hazard not to guess. PLEASE, stay away from Pesci. The poor boy is terrified of you. STOP PICKING YOUR TEETH WITH FISHBONES IN FRONT OF HIM. Your bullying may not be as clearly intended as Mr. Winchester's, but it seems far more…

Predatorial.

Just…

Control yourself, alright?

Mr. Vasilias, Mr. Ayana, Mr. David- I know you're still on this mailing list. Even though you likely wish to pretend I don't exist.

I admire your team cohesion, skipping town the moment your leader suggested it, preventing me from gathering the evidence against Sun I desired…

It was a very… "team-y" thing to do.

But it was also foolish.

Picking loyalty to Mr. Wukong—who would have done nothing to you had you chosen to rat him out—over staying in my good graces?

Ha…

I'm sure this will serve as a valuable lesson to you. Following your leader is all good and fine.

But following him off a cliff?

That just seems ill-advised.

I don't particularly feel like going to Haven to chase you down.

But one day…

Maybe this year...

Maybe after you've graduated…

Maybe ten years into your career…

You'll come back to Vale—or maybe there'll be some reason for me to pop over to Mistral.

Either way…

The three of us will discuss Mr. Wukong's sins again. And after having fled—they will be treated as your own.

Ms. Schnee- I'm happy to hear that Ms. Rose is growing on you, albeit in your words "only a little." As for whether I can do something about "that buffoon Xia-Long" I took the liberty of reserving a room for the two of you at the Four Seasons alongside Ms. Nikos. The two of you may not be partners—but you are teammates—cooperation should be built through a better understanding of one another. You will engage in a training retreat and you will grow together. An understanding between the two of you will be built by spending time with one another.

And if it is not?

Well, you'll at least have Mr. Arc for company.

Ms. Valkyrie- The other day you proclaimed, in the middle of class, "I smell B.S. magical powers coming off of that one!" and pointed at one of our transfer students. Please see me later to explain this…scent you detected.

Miscellaneous- The banana shaped chocolates and themed poems you, whoever you are, left on my bathroom sink were…topical and clever. I suppose. You should reveal yourself. That way I can also reveal how much I appreciated the entirely noninvasive gesture. Just come to my room tonight—while I'm actually there—and I'll show you just how much I enjoy your relentless stalkerish pursuance.

You'll definitely be able to walk once I'm through with you.

And you definitely won't have any bruising.

I promise.

I won't do anything to you that you won't eventually recover from.