Fake It Till You Make It - Memoirs

I was inspired by Titanmaster's review of my story so I decided to make a chapter 2. This is a series of memoirs exploring the greatness of Jaune Arc from the point of view of the people around him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I'll never forget the day I saw just how amazing Jaune was firsthand. It was during the infamous Cyber Siege of Vale, a time when chaos threatened to consume the city. Arthur Watts, one of Salem's most devious operatives, had infiltrated the CCT network. His plan? Flood the communications systems with endless spam mail, effectively crippling Vale's ability to coordinate and defend itself.

It was an unstoppable barrage of useless emails. Messages about fake lottery winnings, questionable Dust-cleaning products, and - worst of all - those awful chain letters threatening 'seven years of bad luck' if you didn't forward them. That fiend! He knew that'd make the anxious people super paranoid! The entire city was on the brink of digital collapse.

As I stood there, frozen in panic, Jaune Arc strode into the heart of the commotion, completely calm. He didn't say much - he just observed, taking it all in. At first, I thought he might've been numb with shock like the rest of us were. It was a big deal and all. But no. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a spark of...something I didn't realize back then. Something that showed off how smart and heroic and brilliant he was.

The rest of us were frantically trying to hack into the system or fend off Watts's mechanized minions, but Jaune? He did the unexpected. The genius. The impossible.

He tripped.

And, in doing so, sent a full glass of juice flying out of his hands. Time seemed to slow as the arc of liquid sailed through the air, crashing directly onto the central router. Sparks flew, and the entire network fried in an instant. The emails stopped. Watts screamed in frustration as his entire operation was reduced to smoldering circuitry. Then he screamed even louder when Pyrrha and Weiss started kicking his butt (the spam included some weird stuff about them too).

At first, I thought it was an accident. A lucky coincidence. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized...Jaune knew. He knew that the router was vulnerable to juice. He'd calculated the precise angle, the perfect velocity, the exact timing needed to disable the system in one flawless move. That's when I understood what makes Jaune Arc so incredible. While the rest of us fight battles with weapons and brute strength, Jaune fights with strategy, subtlety, and pure, unadulterated genius.

It was that moment - the moment when Arthur Watts was dragged away by the Huntsmen, screaming in defeat - that I knew Jaune wasn't just some Huntsman-in-training. No, Jaune Arc is a master tactician. A true hero of Remnant.

If you ask me, the real reason Watts hasn't shown his face since then is that he's still afraid. Afraid of Jaune ruining his plans again with casual ease."

(Excerpt from The Amazing Tales of Jaune Arc, as told by Ruby Rose)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I confess, my first impression of Jaune Arc was less than flattering. He was clumsy, unpolished, and altogether uninspiring. While others seemed to see potential in him, I saw only a boy woefully out of his depth - a sentiment I made no effort to conceal at the time. Frankly, I could not fathom what Ozpin had been thinking when he admitted Jaune to Beacon Academy. It seemed nothing short of a mistake, I thought. The bumbling oaf with nothing but dreams and naivete on his side., He would fail soon.

But Jaune proved me wrong. Spectacularly.

It was during the Vytal Festival, a time of great anticipation and unity. Or so we thought. Beneath the surface, forces far darker than we could have imagined were at work. Cinder Fall, who we believed to be nothing more than an ordinary student, had embedded herself among us. She attended classes, participated in the tournament, and even mingled with the crowds at social events. She was, to all appearances, entirely unremarkable.

I, of course, was none the wiser. Why would I suspect her? She presented herself with poise and charm, the perfect facade of an aspiring Huntress. But Jaune - Jaune - saw what none of us did.

It happened during one of the festival's grand galas. The ballroom was resplendent, filled with Huntsmen, students, and dignitaries from across Remnant. Everyone was dressed in their finest attire, enjoying the festivities without a care in the world. I remember seeing Jaune that night, standing awkwardly near the dessert table, fumbling with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Typical Jaune, I thought. Out of place and out of his depth.

But I was wrong. He wasn't out of place. He was observing.

Jaune's unassuming demeanor allowed him to slip through the crowd unnoticed, blending into the background as though he were part of the decor. While the rest of us were caught up in the revelry - Ruby in particular had to be stopped from guzzling the chocolate fountain - Jaune's keen eyes were taking everything in. It was during this quiet observation that he noticed something peculiar. Cinder was behaving strangely. She moved through the room with calculated precision, her gaze lingering on certain individuals and objects. It was subtle - so subtle that none of us noticed. None of us except Jaune.

Now, at the time, I didn't know any of this. To me, Jaune's sudden disappearance from the party seemed typical of his awkward nature. But the truth was far more extraordinary.

While we danced and dined, Jaune shadowed Cinder across the festival grounds. Alone, unarmed, and without backup, he trailed her movements, piecing together a puzzle that none of us had even begun to see. Somehow, through sheer determination and intuition, Jaune uncovered evidence of Cinder's treachery - evidence that would later prove critical in stopping her plans.

The details of how Jaune obtained this information remain unclear. He has always been frustratingly modest about the incident, brushing off questions with comments like, 'I just got lucky,' or 'It wasn't a big deal.' But I know better. Luck alone cannot explain what he accomplished that night. It was Jaune's courage, his perceptiveness, and his willingness to act when others would have hesitated - myself included - that exposed Cinder for who she truly was.

When he presented the evidence to us (two weeks later, presumably to give us time to prepare), I was stunned. Shocked. Not only by the revelation of Cinder's true nature, but by the realization that Jaune Arc - the boy I had once dismissed as hopeless - had seen what I, with all my training and discipline, had overlooked.

That night, my opinion of Jaune changed forever. He wasn't just a clumsy boy fumbling his way through Beacon. He was a strategist. A thinker. A hero.

I often reflect on that night and wonder what would have happened if Jaune hadn't been there. Would we have discovered Cinder's plans too late? Would Beacon have fallen even sooner? The thought is chilling.

Jaune Arc taught me a valuable lesson that night. Greatness doesn't always come in the form of strength or skill. Sometimes, it comes in the form of a quiet observer, someone willing to look beyond the surface and act when it matters most.

Looking back on it, I feel truly ashamed that my pride had tainted my view of him for so long. I thought I knew everything, that my sheltered upbringing in Atlas made me inherently better than someone who lived outside the walls. I was wrong. Jaune was not only my better intellectually, but morally as well. He forgave me. After all the scorn and superiority I showed him, he just rubbed the back of his head and said 'no hard feelings'. As if it was that easy. Perhaps for him, it was.

And that, I think, is what makes Jaune truly remarkable."

(Excerpt from Winter's Rose: The Life and Times of Weiss Schnee, by Weiss Schnee)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I often reflect on the many battles and trials we faced as a team, and I am struck by one undeniable truth: we would not have endured without Jaune Arc. He was the foundation upon which we built ourselves, the steady hand that guided us through turmoil. While Ruby, Weiss, and I may have wielded impressive skills and talents, it was Jaune who held us together when we were on the brink of collapse and kept us from being at each other's throats.

In our earliest days as a team, we were far from perfect. We were four vastly different individuals, each with our own strengths, weaknesses, and, of course, tempers. Ruby's boundless enthusiasm often clashed with Weiss's strict standards. Weiss's perfectionism, in turn, grated on Ruby's carefree nature. And as for me...I will admit, I sometimes struggled to find my place amidst their contrasting personalities. We were a team in name, but we were fractured in truth. Disjointed. We risked falling apart before we could truly begin.

But Jaune saw us for what we could be, not what we were.

I will never forget the way he quietly took charge. It wasn't flashy, like the speeches of great generals in the stories. No, Jaune's leadership was understated but profoundly effective. He would listen - truly listen - to each of us when we were at our lowest, when frustration or doubt threatened to consume us. I remember one particular night, after a particularly tense mission. Ruby and Weiss had been at odds for days, their arguments growing louder and more heated with each passing hour. I felt caught in the middle, unsure of how to mediate. For all my prowess in the arena, my social skills were terribly lacking.

But Jaune...Jaune brought us back from the brink. He called us together, not with a commanding tone but with the gentle assurance of someone who cared. He let Ruby express her frustrations and Weiss her grievances, nodding thoughtfully at each of their words. When emotions ran high, he would interject with simple but profound statements like, 'I see why that upset you,' or, 'That's rough, buddy.' Buddy. A reminder of the friendships we shared, our bond as a team. It was as though he understood our hearts better than we did.

And when the storm finally calmed, Jaune spoke. His words weren't commands or ultimatums. They were quiet reassurances, reminders of why we were a team and why we needed each other. By the end of the night, Ruby and Weiss were no longer shouting but laughing - together. I watched, awestruck, as Jaune, who so often claimed to doubt himself, succeeded where I had failed.

He brought us peace.

It wasn't the only time. Again and again, Jaune was our guiding light, the one who reminded us of what truly mattered. Whether it was Weiss pushing herself too hard, Ruby questioning her leadership, or myself doubting my worth, Jaune was always there. He would offer his unwavering support, his heartfelt encouragement, and, above all, his selfless belief in us.

I never truly understood how he did it. His words weren't grand or poetic, and yet they carried a weight that none of us could deny. Perhaps it was his sincerity, his genuine desire to see us succeed, that made him such an extraordinary leader. He never sought recognition or credit. In fact, I suspect he didn't even realize the impact he had on us.

But I did.

Without Jaune, our team would have crumbled under the weight of our own insecurities and conflicts. He was the rope that held us together, the heart of our group. I owe so much of who I am today to his quiet strength, his steadfast belief in us, and his willingness to bear the burden of our struggles.

I often wonder if Jaune knows just how much he means to us. To me. If he doesn't, I hope these words might one day help him understand.

Jaune Arc wasn't just our leader. He was our anchor. Our light. And for that, I will always be grateful."

(Excerpt from Records of a Champion's Heart, by Pyrrha Nikos)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"They think they've won. They think locking me away in this glorified cell will stop me. They think stripping me of my Maiden powers, dampening my Aura, and surrounding me with guards will break my will. Fools. All of them. They don't understand. None of them understand the truth.

The truth...about him.

Jaune Arc.

Just saying his name makes my blood boil, my teeth grind, and by very soul burn. The thought of that insipid smile, that unassuming face - it's enough to drive me mad with rage. No, it's worse than that. He's not just a man. He's a monster. A creature of unfathomable cunning, a strategist so devious he makes Ozpin look like a child fumbling with building blocks.

I underestimated him. I'll admit that. I was blinded by his apparent simplicity, his clumsy demeanor. I thought him nothing more than an incompetent oaf, a mere pawn to be swept aside. When I realized he'd heard my plans, he fooled me into thinking he was nothing more than an oaf who genuinely believed I was talking about a bake sale. But no. No. He was always ten steps ahead, his every move calculated, his every failure a deliberate feint to lure me into a false sense of security.

How else can you explain what happened? I had everything planned - everything. Beacon was mine. The Fall Maiden's power was mine. Victory was mine. And then...he appeared.

At first, I thought nothing of him. I barely even registered his presence. A mistake. My greatest mistake. I should have seen the brilliance behind his seemingly foolish facade. The way he maneuvered unnoticed, slipping into places no one else could. The way he listened, quietly, intently, gathering every scrap of information without drawing the slightest attention to himself. The way he outsmarted me - outsmarted me! - without ever lifting a finger.

Do you know what it's like to have your plans unraveled by someone you didn't even realize was in the room? To watch as everything you've worked for crumbles before your eyes, all because of one unassuming boy who just happened to be there?! But of course, he didn't 'just happen' to be there. It was a cunning ploy.

He's not human. He can't be. No one human could be so dangerous, so unpredictable. They call him a hero, but I know the truth. He's a menace. A shadow lurking just beyond your sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And strike he does, with a precision that defies all logic.

Even now, I can feel him out there, somewhere, plotting my ultimate defeat. Being imprisoned isn't enough for him. No, he wants to break me entirely. Oh, I know what they'll say. 'Cinder, you're just bitter. You're overthinking it.' But I'm not. I see the pattern, the method behind his madness. He's toying with me, letting me stew in this cell while he plans his next move. And when he comes for me, it won't be with swords or magic. No, Jaune Arc doesn't need such things. He'll destroy me with his mind.

But I won't let him win. I refuse to let him win. I don't care how many guards they post outside my cell, how many restrictions they place on my powers. I will find a way. I will break free. And when I do, I will hunt him down. I will face him, one-on-one, and prove to the world that Jaune Arc is not invincible. That no amount of planning or cunning will save him from a woman who has nothing left to lose.

I know it won't be easy. He is, after all, the most dangerous man in Remnant. But I am Cinder Fall. I am the flame that will burn this world in my image and rule over the ashes that remain. And Jaune Arc? He will be nothing more than a smoldering ember beneath my feet.

Mark my words. I will have my revenge. I will destroy Jaune Arc, no matter how many millennia it takes.

...Right after I figure out how to get past these Aura-dampening cuffs."

(Excerpt from Flames of Vengeance: The Memoirs of Cinder Fall, written from Cell #014, Ironwood Penitentiary)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. Like, full-on, going bananas. And no, it's not because of Grimm, or Salem, or any of the usual world-ending stuff. At least, not today. No, it's because everyone - and I mean everyone - thinks I'm some kind of genius hero when I'm not! I'm just a guy! A guy who happens to be alive because the universe finds it funny to let me trip over my own feet and land in success.

I've tried explaining it to them. Over and over and over. 'Hey, Ruby, remember that time I stopped Watts? That wasn't strategy - I tripped! Literally tripped! My juice spilled on the router!' And what does she say? 'Classic Jaune! Always thinking ten steps ahead!'

TEN STEPS AHEAD?! I can't even walk without nearly face-planting! Do you know how hard it is to convince someone you're not a genius when they've already decided you're secretly the Maria Calavera of Grimm fighting? Spoiler: It's impossible. They'll just nod and say, 'Oh, Jaune, you're so humble.' Humble?! That's not humble; it's the truth! I'm practically wearing a neon sign that says, 'NOT A HERO,' and they're all just pointing at it and saying, 'Wow, look how modest he is!'

And then there's Weiss. She used to look at me like I was some kind of slug she accidentally stepped on. Now? Now she's out here writing memoirs about how I'm a tactical genius who outsmarted Cinder Fall! I was literally eating a sandwich in the corner while Cinder gloated about her evil plans, and I didn't even realize she was talking about actual evil plans. I thought she was selling brownies! BROWNIES! And yet, somehow, this gets turned into 'Jaune's strategic brilliance forced her to reveal her plans.' Strategic brilliance, my butt! I just didn't wanna interrupt her monologue and make things awkward!

And Pyrrha? Oh, Pyrrha's the worst of them all. Sweet, kind, amazing Pyrrha...who's apparently decided I'm some kind of saintly figure who 'held the team together through sheer emotional intelligence.' Let me set the record straight: I sat there, nodded a lot, and said, 'That's rough, buddy,' while giving them snacks I got from the vending machine. That's it! That's the entirety of my contribution! But to hear Pyrrha tell it, you'd think I was some kind of wise sage whispering ancient truths. She once wrote an entire poem about my 'calm and collected guidance.' A POEM. What am I supposed to do with that?!

And don't even get me started on strangers. Random people stop me on the street to say things like, 'Oh, Mr. Arc, you're an inspiration!' or 'Thank you for saving Remnant!' They make it sound like I planned all of this, like I sat down and mapped out some elaborate master plan to defeat Salem. Here's the real truth: I threw my sword at her, missed, and somehow that counted as a 'crucial distraction'. A distraction! I was barely aiming for her and completely missed, and now she hates me more than she hates Ozpin! How does that even happen?!

So here I am, losing my grip on reality, while everyone else keeps calling me a hero. No matter what I say, no matter how many times I explain that it was dumb luck, they just nod and say, 'Oh, Jaune, you're too modest.' And the worst part? The absolute worst part? I think I'm starting to believe them.

Maybe I am a hero. Maybe this whole thing isn't dumb luck. Maybe I really am the tactical genius they say I am.

...Or maybe I've just finally snapped.

Either way, send help."

(Excerpt from My Super Secret Diary, by Jaune Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"As I sit here, finally able to enjoy the quiet serenity of retirement, I find myself reflecting on the many lives I've lived, the countless battles I've fought, and the endless cycles of pain and perseverance that have defined my existence. For millennia, I was burdened with the weight of Remnant's survival, the ceaseless struggle against Salem, and the countless sacrifices required to maintain even the faintest glimmer of hope.

But now? Now I can rest. And I owe it all to Jaune Arc.

Let me be clear: I know exactly who and what Jaune Arc is. He is no master tactician, no brilliant warrior, no cunning hero of legend. He is, in the simplest terms, a fraud. A charming, bumbling fraud who stumbled into greatness through a combination of sheer luck, improbable circumstances, and the utterly baffling ability to survive situations that should have killed him ten times over.

And I couldn't be more grateful for him.

For centuries, I bore the responsibility of leading the fight against Salem, of carrying the hopes and dreams of humanity on my shoulders. I watched allies fall, kingdoms crumble, and lives extinguished, all while knowing I could never afford to falter. But then came Jaune Arc - a Huntsman so unremarkable, so utterly unqualified, that even I was astounded when I discovered his forged transcripts.

At first, I considered expelling him from Beacon. What place did he have among future legends like Pyrrha Nikos or Ruby Rose? But as I observed him, something peculiar happened. The boy survived. Time and again, he survived. More than that, he thrived. Where others saw chaos, Jaune found... well, not order, exactly, but something resembling success. And as the tales of his 'heroics' began to spread, I realized something important: Jaune Arc was exactly what Remnant needed.

Not because he was capable - he wasn't. But because people believed he was.

Let's face it: legends are often built on shaky foundations. The people of Remnant don't need the truth; they need hope. They need someone to rally behind, someone whose name inspires confidence and courage. And if that someone happens to be a clumsy, overeager boy with a penchant for dumb luck, so be it.

And so, I let the charade continue. I allowed the myth of Jaune Arc to grow. When his teammates sang his praises, I nodded solemnly. When the Council asked about his role in various missions, I spoke of his 'unparalleled strategic brilliance.' And when the world celebrated his victory over Salem, I smiled politely and clapped along with the rest of them.

Because, you see, Jaune Arc has unknowingly given me something I never thought I'd have: freedom.

For thousands of years, I was the one shouldering the blame when things went wrong. The one carrying the responsibility for every failure, every loss, every tragedy. But now? Now, Jaune Arc can have it. Let him be the hero. Let him bear the weight of the people's expectations. Let him explain how his 'master plan' to defeat Salem was little more than a lucky accident involving a sword throw that missed by twenty feet. I'm done.

It's not that I don't respect Jaune. Quite the contrary. It takes a certain kind of genius - or insanity - to accomplish what he has. But more importantly, it takes a willingness to endure the endless praise, the relentless scrutiny, and the crushing weight of being the world's savior. And Jaune, bless his hapless soul, is willing. Or, at the very least, everyone is too enamored to listen to his protests. Same thing, really.

So here I sit, sipping tea on a quiet porch far from the chaos of the world, watching the sun set on a life filled with far too many complications. Jaune Arc is out there somewhere, tripping his way into more glory, while I enjoy the peace and solitude I've earned a thousand times over.

Do I feel guilty for letting him take the heat? Perhaps a little. But then I remember the centuries I've spent fighting an unwinnable war, and that guilt fades quickly. Jaune wanted to be a Huntsman, after all. He wanted to be a hero. Who am I to deny him the full experience?

Let the world sing of Jaune Arc, the cunning, brilliant savior of Remnant. Let them write their songs and build their statues. And if he ever figures out the truth and comes knocking on my door, demanding answers? Well, I'll pour him a cup of tea, pat him on the shoulder, and tell him what I've always known:

'You'll figure it out, Jaune. You always do. And if you don't, it's not my problem.'"

(Excerpt from A Thousand Lives and One Retirement: The Musings of Ozpin, by Ozpin)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"It is both an honor and a privilege to reflect upon my life with Jaune Arc, my husband, partner, and, dare I say, the most brilliant and loving man in all of Remnant. While many stories have been written about his legendary exploits, his unmatched cunning, and his miraculous victories (many of which I personally witnessed and still find myself marveling over), I feel it is time to shed light on an equally important aspect of his life: our family.

Yes, our family.

Of course, I must begin with the truth - an immutable fact that neither Ruby Rose nor Weiss Schnee will ever admit, no matter how many times I remind them. I am, and always will be, Jaune's First Wife.

They try to claim otherwise. Ruby insists that because she kissed him on the cheek during that one festival years ago, she had some kind of unspoken claim. As if a fleeting moment of childhood embarrassment could ever compare to the years of companionship, trust, and love Jaune and I built together. Weiss, for her part, argues that because she handled many of the legalities surrounding our 'unique' marital arrangement, she is somehow 'officially' the First Wife. To that, I say: paperwork is not love. And while I respect her contributions, I will not allow her to rewrite history.

It was I who first confessed my feelings for Jaune. I who stood by him during our darkest days. I who watched him grow from the endearingly clumsy boy I first met into the confident, wise, and, yes, irresistibly handsome man he is today. I was the first to walk down the aisle with him (nevermind that Weiss and Ruby were right behind me), the first to take his name, the first to stand beside him as his wife. No amount of cheek kisses or bureaucratic nonsense can change that.

Still, despite our disagreements on the matter of titles, I must admit that our shared life with Jaune has been nothing short of extraordinary. To marry a man as brilliant and compassionate as Jaune is to invite joy and adventure into your life every day. To share him with Ruby and Weiss...well, that is to invite chaos.

Our family is large, perhaps larger than most would consider practical. But Jaune, in his infinite wisdom and boundless love, has managed to unite us all. Together, we have raised a truly remarkable brood of children. Thirty-seven in total, at last count. Yes, thirty-seven. And no, I am not exaggerating. The Arc men are very virile, as Ruby's nonuplets (nine) and my septuplets (seven) can attest to. Weiss herself had come out with only a relatively meager quintuplets (five) during her first birth.

Each of our children carries a piece of Jaune's legacy. Some inherited his strategic brilliance, others his selfless heart, and a few - well, let's just say they inherited his penchant for his so-called 'accidental heroics.' The stories of how they've managed to stumble into greatness despite themselves are almost as legendary as Jaune's own exploits. (I sometimes suspect Ruby is encouraging this behavior. It would be just like her to instill a love of chaos in her offspring.)

Life in the Arc household is never dull. Mornings are a symphony of clattering dishes, hurried goodbyes, and the occasional fire in the kitchen. Afternoons are spent tending to our ever-growing list of family projects, from Ruby's attempts to build an airship out of spare parts to Weiss's insistence on teaching all thirty-seven children proper ballroom etiquette. (A hopeless endeavor, if you ask me, but I admire her persistence.) Evenings are filled with laughter, stories, and Jaune's slightly off-key renditions of old lullabies, which somehow always manage to calm even the rowdiest among us.

Through it all, Jaune remains the heart of our family. His patience, kindness, and seemingly endless capacity for love have kept us united, even during the rare moments of conflict. He may not be perfect - his tendency to accidentally break furniture when attempting to 'help' with chores is a point of contention - but he is ours. And we would not trade him for anything in the world.

As I sit here, watching Jaune attempt to build a treehouse for the younger children (a project that has already resulted in three splinters, two misplaced hammers, and one minor Grimm attack), I find myself reflecting on how far we have come. From those early days at Beacon to the bustling chaos of our home today, our journey has been nothing short of incredible.

I am proud to be Jaune's wife. I am proud of the family we have built together. And I will proudly remind anyone who asks - and even those who don't - that I am, and always will be, the First Wife.

Ruby and Weiss may argue otherwise, but history is written by the victors. And this memoir? Well, it's mine."

(Excerpt from First Wife: A Life with Jaune Arc, by Pyrrha Nikos-Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Let me begin by saying that I love my family. Truly, deeply, unconditionally love them. But also, please, for the love of the Brothers, send help.

Thirty-seven kids. Thirty-seven. And three wives. Three. That's not a family; that's a small village. It's like living in a never-ending escort mission where every NPC has terrible AI, and I'm the only one holding the group together. Do you know what it's like to go to bed at night only to wake up because a nonuplet - yes, that's nine kids from one birth, thanks to Ruby - decided to build a makeshift rocket launcher in the backyard using Grimm bones and duct tape? Because I do. And no, I don't know where they found the Grimm bones. Weren't they supposed to disappear on death?

Let me back up a bit.

It all started with Pyrrha, Ruby, and Weiss. You'd think that after everything we went through, one of them would have claimed my heart and left the others to move on. Simple, right? Nope. Not even close. Instead, they all agreed to share me, because apparently, that was the only way to settle the 'argument.' I didn't even know I was part of the argument until they sat me down and said, 'Jaune, we've decided you're marrying all of us. Congratulations!'

'Congratulations,' they said. Like I'd won a contest. Like I'd earned some sort of grand prize.

Yeah. Congratulations to me.

Pyrrha, bless her soul, insists on being the 'First Wife,' which means she takes her role as family matriarch very seriously. She's the one who keeps everyone in line - or tries to. She also keeps a tally of which kids belong to which wife, like it's some kind of scoreboard. ('Ruby, your nonuplets are terrorizing the neighbors again.' 'Weiss, please tell your quintuplets that high tea is not an appropriate setting for dueling lessons.')

Ruby, on the other hand, is the chaos engine. She's like a walking sugar rush, constantly encouraging the kids to build death traps for fun and calling it 'hands-on engineering.' The other day, I caught one of her nonuplets trying to weaponize Crescent Rose as a go-kart. I confiscated it, of course, only for Ruby to give me puppy-dog eyes and say, 'Oh, come on, Jaune, let them experiment! They'll never learn if they don't blow something up first!' I'm pretty sure she was joking. I think.

And then there's Weiss. Weiss is, well, Weiss. She's determined to instill 'culture and refinement' into our kids, which mostly involves forcing them to learn ballroom dancing and proper table manners. Do you know how hard it is to make thirty-seven children sit through etiquette lessons? It's like herding Beowolves. And somehow, Weiss always blames me when it goes wrong. 'Jaune, if you had just been firmer with them, we wouldn't be in this situation.' Firmer? They're children, Weiss, not Atlesian soldiers! And don't think I don't see you spoiling them when you think we're not looking! That shiny new play castle didn't come from nowhere!

And the kids. Oh, Brothers, the kids. I love them, I really do, but they're like a Grimm horde with better coordination. Ruby's nonuplets (I won't name them all, both for the sake of privacy and posterity) are the worst - they're basically a pack of hyperactive mini-Rubies, running around at the speed of sound and leaving destruction in their wake. Pyrrha's septuplets are the 'responsible' ones, which just means they're really good at hiding their chaos until it's too late. And Weiss's quintuplets? They're terrifying. They'll smile sweetly, oh-so polite and charming, while debating the best way to launch a coup against the household. One of them actually wrote a manifesto. A manifesto! She's eight years old!

The rest of the sixteen kids are their own bundles of chaos, but that's a story for another time.

Mornings in the Arc household are like a battle royale. By the time I've dragged myself out of bed, there's usually a kitchen fire (Ruby's doing), an argument over who gets the last pancake batch (Pyrrha's septuplets always win), and at least one Grimm in the backyard because one of the kids thought it would make a 'cool pet.' I'm the one who has to deal with it all because apparently, being the dad means being the designated firefighter, referee, and exterminator.

Evenings aren't much better. By the time we've corralled all thirty-seven kids into bed, I'm so exhausted I could collapse on the spot. But no, because that's when my three wives decide it's 'Jaune Time.' Pyrrha wants to talk about our future. Ruby wants to brainstorm new family activities ('Jaune, let's build a mecha with the kids!'). Weiss wants to discuss household budgeting - because, yes, raising thirty-seven kids is expensive, and no, Weiss still won't let me buy a second-hand Bullhead to make grocery shopping easier.

And that's if they're not feeling in the mood for some fun in the bedroom. Those nights end with me walking around like a dried prune the next day.

And me? All I want is ten minutes of peace. Just ten minutes. Is that too much to ask?

But even as I sit here, writing this in the one quiet moment I've managed to steal all week, I can't help but smile. Because for all the chaos, the sleepless nights, and the sheer insanity of it all, I wouldn't trade this life for anything. Pyrrha's calm strength, Ruby's infectious energy, Weiss's relentless drive - it's a mess, but it's my mess. And those thirty-seven kids? They may drive me up the wall, but they're my pride and joy.

Still, if you're reading this and you happen to have spare hands, an army of babysitters, or, I don't know, a second Jaune, please send help. Seriously. Please. I'm dying here."

(Excerpt from My Super Secret Diary, by Jaune Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I've read the stories. I've heard the songs. The entire world seems to think my son, Jaune Arc, is some sort of mythical hero. They call him the 'Shield of Remnant,' the 'Unbreakable Strategist,' and my personal favorite, the 'Mastermind of Mayhem'. They spin tales of his cunning, his bravery, his supposed brilliance. But do you want to know the truth?

He's just my little boy. And he's an idiot.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I love Jaune. I love him more than anything in this world (besides my other children and dear husband, of course). But the idea that he's some tactical genius or invincible warrior? That's ridiculous. He's not a hero of legend. He's not even particularly clever. Jaune is just someone who stumbled his way into success through sheer dumb luck and a whole lot of other people covering for him. And frankly? It makes me furious.

Do you know how many sleepless nights I had, wondering if my boy was alive or dead because he decided to forge his transcripts and throw himself into Beacon Academy? Beacon! The premier combat school of Remnant! He could barely swing a sword, and he thought it was a good idea to put himself on the frontlines of the war against Grimm. And for what? To impress some girl? Oh, he tries to tell me it was for a noble cause, but I know the truth. I've seen those school photos. That armor wasn't hiding courage - it was hiding a boy who didn't know which end of the sword was the sharp one.

I've tried calling him out on it. 'Jaune,' I say, 'you're not a hero; you're a hazard to yourself and everyone around you.' And do you know what he does? He says, 'Oh, Mom, I tried to tell them! They won't listen to me!' Won't listen? A likely story. This is the boy who once accidentally set the barn on fire because he thought he could teach himself swordplay using a flaming stick. And now he's the 'Savior of Remnant'? Spare me.

I still remember the first time I heard about one of his so-called 'heroics.' He'd supposedly outsmarted some criminal mastermind - Arthur Watts, I think they called him - by 'strategically' disabling an entire communication network. When Jaune finally came home for a visit, I asked him about it. Do you know what he told me? He said, 'Oh, yeah, I spilled juice on the router. It was an accident.' Juice on the router! And they're calling him a genius!

The same thing happened with Cinder Fall. People act like he unraveled her entire evil plan through sheer brilliance. But when I asked Jaune about it, he just scratched his head and said, 'Uh, I was eating a sandwich in the corner, and she didn't see me. Then I kind of... forgot to tell anyone about it until later.' A sandwich! My son, the 'master tactician,' didn't even realize what he'd overheard!

And don't get me started on the Queen of Grimm. Jaune had the nerve to come home and tell me he 'missed' with his sword throw, and somehow that made him Salem's arch-nemesis. I nearly hit him upside the head with a wooden spoon. 'Jaune Arc,' I said, 'what were you thinking going up against someone like that? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!' And do you know what he said? He said, 'Mom, it wasn't my idea! They made me go in!' They made him! As if that's any excuse for charging into danger like a fool!

And yet, here we are. Somehow, Jaune survived. More than that, he thrived. Now the whole world sings his praises while I'm sitting here, shaking my head, wondering how my sweet, reckless boy managed to fool everyone into thinking he's the next Ozpin. Honestly, I'm starting to think he has a luck amplification Semblance even though he still doesn't have his Aura unlocked.

But as much as I want to grab him by the ear and lecture him for the rest of his life, I have to admit… he did give me something wonderful: thirty-seven grandbabies. Thirty-seven. Do you know what it's like to walk into a room and be mobbed by dozens of little ones yelling, 'Grandma!' and fighting over who gets to sit in your lap? It's heaven, that's what it is.

Pyrrha's babies are the responsible ones, always helping me with chores or asking about my recipes. Ruby's babies are little tornadoes of energy, constantly trying to show me their latest 'invention' or dragging me outside for Grimm-themed tag. And Weiss' babies? They're a little terrifying, if I'm being honest, but they make the sweetest tea and always insist on hosting 'proper' afternoon gatherings when I visit.

Oh, I love them all. Every single one of them. They're the only reason I haven't grounded Jaune for life for all the reckless nonsense he's pulled. How can I stay mad when I've got thirty-seven pairs of little hands painting me pictures, baking me lopsided cookies, and calling me the 'best Grandma ever'? I can't. I just can't.

So yes, Jaune Arc is reckless. Yes, he's lucky to be alive. And yes, the world may have bought into this ridiculous idea that he's a hero of legend. But he's also my son. And for all his faults - for all the times he's made me want to scream and pull my hair out - I'm proud of him. Not because of his so-called heroics, but because he's managed to build a life filled with love, family, and enough grandbabies to keep me busy for the rest of my days.

Still, if he ever tries to tell me he's 'too busy' to visit again, I'll remind him who changed his diapers and patched up his scraped knees. Hero or not, Jaune Arc is never too big for a lecture from his mother. But as long as he keeps bringing me grandbabies to spoil, I suppose I'll let him off the hook.

For now."

(Excerpt from The Grandmother of Legends: A Memoir, by Isabel Arc)

Jaune just keeps on winning. The literal definition of fake it till you make it. I might make a last chapter focusing on more outsider POV (Ironwood, Yang, Winter etc). We'll see.