[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

if Pyrrha saw all those scars and realized what it all meant, I think she'd wet her panties.

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Let's be honest, I don't think there are a lot of girls in Beacon who wouldn't get wet or wouldn't at least see Jaune in a more positive light after seeing his scars.

Yes he's still barely clinging to the deadlast spot in class, but he has the conviction to be here.

 

[Balorak146]

Let's be honest, I don't think there are a lot of girls in Beacon who wouldn't get wet or wouldn't at least see Jaune in a more positive light after seeing his scars.

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Well, there is Emerald.

That one's clearly gay as sunshine, and scars are just a sign that you were too slow to DODGE!

 

[dragon_cloud16]

Weiss: "Hello-win? What is this...'Hello-win'? You dress up? Like a party? Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
Blake: *eyes narrowed* "Halloween is just a night where humans get to dress up like faunus and claim they're not RACIST!"

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Honestly, I can see something like Halloween being created in setting but with the purpose to help teach how not to be afraid.

I can also see Faunus costumes getting popular thanks to the White Fang's actions in the current times. The very same actions that Blake supported until she ran away.

 

[digcat]

What would be everyone's response.

Spoiler

 

[Quietview27]

What would be everyone's response.

Spoiler

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Depends on the time they find her wearing this.
Before Beacon's destruction, they'd think 'Oh they must be a fan of Pyrrha's'.
After Beacon you have Team RWBY, and the remaining 3/4's of JNPR trying to kill her even more for insulting Pyrrha's legacy, Jaune especially.

 

[digcat]

Team RWBY in their wedding dresses.

Spoiler

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Schnee Manor felt colder than usual.

Jacques Schnee sat in a high-backed chair in the east sitting room, a neat white bandage wrapped around his head. The doctors had called it a "severe concussion with retrograde amnesia." One moment he had been stepping out of a board meeting; the next, a collapsing scaffolding beam from a nearby construction project had clipped him hard enough to rearrange everything he thought he knew about himself.

He remembered his name. He remembered numbers, contracts, the taste of expensive wine. He did not remember being a monster.

Weiss stood near the fireplace, arms folded tightly across her chest. Winter stood by the window, posture rigid, eyes narrowed. Whitley hovered near the doorway as if ready to flee. Willow sat farthest away, a glass of something stronger than tea already half-empty in her hand.

Jacques looked at each of them in turn, brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

"…You're all staring at me like I kicked a puppy," he said. His voice was softer than any of them remembered. "Did I… do something wrong?"

Weiss's laugh was short and bitter. "Something wrong."

Winter's voice was ice. "You don't remember."

"I remember fragments," Jacques admitted. He rubbed the bandage carefully. "I remember a boardroom. I remember being angry a great deal of the time. I remember… raised voices. Yours, Weiss. And yours, Winter. I remember Whitley looking at me the way one looks at a thunderstorm." He hesitated. "I don't remember why."

Willow set her glass down with a soft click. "Because you were a bastard, Jacques."

The room went very still.

Jacques blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"That… tracks with the looks you're giving me." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, expression open in a way none of them had ever seen. "I don't know who I was before. The doctors say it may come back. Or it may not. But right now I look at the three of you and I feel… ashamed. I don't know the details, but I can feel that I hurt you. Badly."

Weiss's fingers dug into her own arms. "You can't just—"

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Jacques interrupted gently. "I haven't earned it. I don't even know the full list of things I need to atone for yet. But I would like to try."

Winter's jaw tightened. "Try."

"Yes." Jacques met her gaze without flinching. "I've been reading the company reports the nurses left me. The Dust mining conditions in Mantle. The labor contracts. The way the Schnee name has been used as a weapon." His mouth twisted. "I don't like the man who signed those papers. I don't like the father who made his children afraid of him."

Whitley finally spoke, voice small. "You called me a disappointment. Constantly."

Jacques's face fell. "Then I was wrong. Repeatedly." He looked at his youngest son with quiet sincerity. "You're clever. You're careful. You're still here, which means you're stronger than I ever gave you credit for. I'm sorry, Whitley."

Whitley's eyes widened. He looked away quickly, blinking hard.

Weiss's voice cracked. "You tried to force me into a political marriage. You threatened to disinherit me. You treated Mother like a decoration until she drank herself into silence."

Jacques closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were wet.

"I have no defense," he said quietly. "I only have the present. And in the present, I would like to undo as much damage as I can." He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small data chip. "I've already signed over controlling shares of the SDC to a temporary trust administered by Klein and an independent board. No more unilateral decisions. No more silencing whistleblowers. The miners in Mantle will receive hazard pay and proper protective equipment starting next quarter."

Winter's eyes narrowed further. "You're giving up power."

"I'm giving up the version of power that made me into someone none of you could stand." Jacques managed a small, tired smile. "It turns out I still know how to read a balance sheet. I simply no longer want to use it to crush people."

Weiss stared at him for a long time. The fight in her posture hadn't vanished, but something beneath it had shifted—something raw and exhausted.

"You're not him," she said finally. "Not completely. But you're still wearing his face."

"I know." Jacques rose carefully, still a little unsteady. He kept a respectful distance. "I won't push. I won't demand anything. If you want me to leave the manor, I will. If you want me to stay and prove I'm serious, I will do that too. Whatever you need."

Willow's voice was barely above a whisper. "Jacques… do you remember us? Really remember?"

He looked at his wife—really looked—and something complicated passed across his face.

"I remember the day we met," he said softly. "You were laughing. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I remember promising you the world." His throat worked. "I don't remember when I stopped trying to keep that promise. But I would like to start again, if you'll allow it."

Willow's eyes filled. She didn't move toward him. She didn't speak. But she didn't leave the room either.

Winter finally uncrossed her arms. "This changes nothing overnight. Trust is not restored by a head injury and a few signatures."

"I understand."

"But…" Winter exhaled through her nose. "If you continue this path—if you truly mean it—then we will see."

Weiss still looked ready to bolt or scream or both. Yet when Jacques carefully offered her a small, folded letter (handwritten, clumsy, full of crossed-out lines), she took it.

Inside were only a few sentences:

I do not remember the father who hurt you.
I only know that I do not want to be him.
—Jacques

Weiss folded the letter again, slower this time.

 

[KarasAdamas]

I do not remember the father who hurt you.
I only know that I do not want to be him.
—Jacques

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Honestly, would love a full story with this concept. I don't care if it's genuine amnesia or a "isekaid as Jackass Schnee" fic, just Jacques trying to be better after everything bad that he's done.

 

[Sliverhero]

Honestly, would love a full story with this concept. I don't care if it's genuine amnesia or a "isekaid as Jackass Schnee" fic, just Jacques trying to be better after everything bad that he's done.

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There was a fic that had that.