Greetings! This was an idea I had after reading the work, Through the Drinking Glass: Isekai wa Rudeby to Tomo ni, by popular user Mallobaude and after reading through some of the reviews. I highly recommend you check it out, it's a pretty humorous and charming piece. You'll also need to know the general gist behind that story because my fic takes some key elements from the plot. Go ahead and read it, I'll wait.
[Spoilers]
I'll supply y'all with a basic run down though. In Mallobaude's fic, Jaune swaps places with a different Jaune from a parallel universe (where a lot of personalities are opposite of canon). Shenanigans ensue. This fic follows the footsteps of the parallel Jaune who gets transported to the canon universe.
[Spoilers end]
Generally speaking, this is pretty much Mallobaude's idea and I'm simply "borrowing" it... without them knowing. As the saying goes though: better to seek forgiveness, than to ask permission.
Jokes aside, if you are Mallobaude and you don't want this fic up, then feel free to shoot me a message and I'll take it down—no questions asked.
Enjoy!
11/18: Whoops, fixed spelling for Jaune's name.
"Jaune," a soft, feminine voice spoke.
"Jaune, get up."
Jaune groaned into his arms (which were serving as makeshift pillows on his desk) as he felt a dainty hand shake his shoulder. The hand felt soft, gentle almost, his addled brain noted as it tried to process what was happening around him. Gradually, his thoughts became more coherent as proper words began meshing together in his brain. I... I fell asleep... during class? Jaune questioned, but his predicament right now didn't seem to matter too much. He felt elevated, like he was on cloud nine. Within a matter of seconds, his brain lost focus again and he felt himself slipping further into his chair.
"Jaune!" The little voice came back, slightly more urgent this time. It resonated deep within him and he felt a small sense of unease take root as recognition dawned upon him. This voice... it... it belongs to her. And if anything, she didn't like to be kept waiting.
A wave of panic washed over Jaune, ending his visit to cloud nine just as suddenly as it had begun. His head shot up and he had to pause to orient himself as the blood suddenly rushed away from his head. Blue eyes cracked open to met a familiar set of green ones as Jaune finally shook off the last vestiges of slumber. He was awake, but still sluggish from his morning "activities". Apart from them two, the classroom was empty.
Apologize, a voice in his head commanded.
"Sorry...," his mouth mumbled. Sorry what? The voice cooed back, sneeringly. "Sorry mistress," he finished.
There, impending doom averted. He would probably still be punished for not immediately obeying a direct order from her, but that would be for later and in private, on the rooftop. For now he could leave. Possibly get some food. Speaking of food, man was he starving!
The sound of cheap metal legs scraping across wooden ceramic tiles was heard as Jaune slowly got up and pushed his seat back. Despite the fact that his mind was already beginning the re-ascent back into its blissful haven in the sky, there were some actions that had been ingrained so mercilessly into his body that he could preform them even in his sleep. Turning around, Jaune automatically caught the hand on his shoulder before it could fall back to its owner. Bringing the hand to his lips, he ran his tongue over the length of its index finger before planting a deep kiss only slightly above the knuckles.
Job done, Jaune released his grip and ambled out of the classroom, leaving a rather shocked and furiously blushing Phyrra Nikos to stare at her still upraised and slightly glistening hand.
By the time Jaune arrived at the cafeteria, his brain was fully rooted back in its happy place. As a result, it was also in the usual state of being haywire. He could taste colors, see sound, hear smell. His body felt blistering cold yet scorching hot at the same time—an unusually pleasant experience. And while he was physically standing in the cafeteria, he was also metaphorically floating a thousand miles away.
Currently, his body was driven not through any actual thought, but rather by a more primal instinct as he walked towards the food in Beacon's buffet. Grabbing a tray before trudging along the line, Jaune haphazardly added items—an apple here, a bowl of noodles there—onto his plate. Reaching the end, Jaune automatically pivoted towards the nearest empty table. He mostly ate alone and, aside from the few times Ruby had wanted a quick fix with him, he'd prefer to keep it that way.
Sitting down, he started forking the items on his tray into his mouth. Idly, Jaune noted that he couldn't taste the food, but again, such trivialities didn't matter. It wasn't that he couldn't taste the dish, rather, it was simply that his brain was too preoccupied with other sensations to acknowledge the flavor of the food he was consuming.
In record time, Jaune cleared his plate, and with his hunger sated, he just... sat there. There was no new urges popping up and Jaune was more than content to indulge in his seemingly newfound fascination with the act of simply existing.
It is said that after visiting the land of paradise a certain amount of times, a unique gift is bestowed upon the regulars. Said gift coming in the form of knowing approximately when your trip was going to end. Dubbed by few as simply, the booting, it serves as a rather useful reminder for many visitors to know when to reapply and extend the duration of their stay. For Jaune, a frequent member, his "boot" sense started tingling slightly after he left the cafeteria. Honed by months of lengthy visits, Jaune felt the subtle shift towards clearer brain cognition that gave him all the warnings he needed to know that his little vacation was soon to be over.
Reaching down, Jaune felt around in his pockets for his goodies bag. Feeling the familiar plastic crumple around his fingers, he smirked and drew the bag out—only for his smile to immediately disappear. He was out. There was no more of the blueish-white colored dust in his bag or, at least, there were very little bits of it left. Panicking a little, Jaune hurriedly opened the bag and scrunched it up against his nose. He inhaled like a man at the cusp of death, fighting for his last breath of air. Please, please be enough. Jaune thought desperately. There was no such luck. The familiar kick that signified the start of a new trip didn't hit him and more pressingly, his brain functions were starting to fully return.
Without warning, a small ringing sensation began in his ears that only proceeded to grow in volume as the seconds ticked by. Jaune hissed and grit his teeth, trying his best to "ride" out the pain surrounding his eardrums. Louder and louder the sound became, rising to a fevered pitch, before—without warning—suddenly stopping. With a jolt, Jaune's mind came crashing down and started to function as how a proper brain ought to function. Colors, sound, taste—all senses were finally restored to their respective organs as Jaune's brain began to assess its current situation.
The first thing that hit Jaune was just how tired he felt. Next, came the nauseating vertigo, followed swiftly by muscle cramps all over and a raging full-body ache. I hate crashing, he swore inside his head as he staggered down the hallway. Looking down glumly at his empty bag, Jaune released a pained sigh. That was my last one, he mused wistfully. Looks like I'll need to give Torchwick a call after all... but not now. He certainly wasn't in the right state of mind to deal with the paranoid rat. The beginnings of a small migraine was building up in the back of his head and, coincidentally, Jaune felt his desire to hold a conversation with others dwindling as well.
So deep was Jaune into his own self pity and misery that he didn't notice the walking hulk of metal known as Cardin Winchester rounding the corner until it was too late. With an metallic clang, they collided against each other before comically repelling each other backwards, down towards the floor. Years of huntsman training kicked in and Jaune twisted his body mid-fall, bending both arms at chest level so that his forearms would absorb most of the shock. Upon contact with the ground, Jaune rolled over and surged back up, readjusting his arms into a defensive position to ward off any further attack.
Fatigue forgotten, Jaune inwardly cursed at his own lack of awareness as he took in his situation. Upon realizing there was actually no incoming threat, he dropped his stance, but not his anger, as he started mouthing off at the object that crashed into him.
"Use your bloody eye—"
"Watch it, foo—"
Both of the voices paused mid sentence, as their respective owners warily regarded the other in surprise. Jaune fully took in the sight of a Cardin Winchester whom was in the process of being helped up by a Russel Thrush. They had history between them, him and Winchester. Good history. Jaune thought as he hid a nasty smirk. Ah, Winchester, Winchester. Whatever will I do without you?
Plastering on a smile that some might have considered to be a little too friendly, Jaune walked towards the now fully standing Winchester and Thrush.
"Ah, Winchester, just the man I wanted to see!" Jaune exclaimed as he took one more look at his surroundings. The two corridors were mostly empty, with the few students that had paused to look at the small commotion now resumed back towards their activities. A shame, he really did love an audience.
Confusion flickered briefly on Winchester's face before he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"What do you want, Jaune?" he gruffly asked.
Jaune felt his grin growing wider, "Well I'm glad you asked! You see, I kinda need some extra lien and I thought that as friends, you could help a brother out."
Winchester frowned, "What? We aren't friends Jaune. Go bother someone else for money."
A flash of irritation flew by Jaune, but he held onto his cheerful demeanor. Standing next to Winchester, Jaune snaked his arm around the boy's neck.
"Now, now... is that really how-," Jaune jerked his arm down hard, forcing Winchester to stare down at the floor, and whispered into his ear, "-friends should greet each other?"
In response, Winchester snarled and shoved Jaune off of him, "I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull, but it's really pissing me off," Winchester snapped as he straightened up to glower at Jaune.
Haaa... of all the times to grow a backbone, he chooses now?! Jaune felt his patience wearing thin, and he dropped any further pretense of friendliness, "Don't play coy, Winchester. I said cough up the money."
"And I said bugger off!"
The last vestiges of Jaune's patience snapped. "Someone's been getting a little too big for their breaches now, aren't we?
"But that's alright, I think it's nigh time I remind you of the status quo anyway." Without warning, Jaune's fist struck Winchester's face, causing the giant's aura to flare as his head whipped to the side, forcing him to take a few steps back.
With a roar of rage, Winchester snapped his head straight and charged forwards while simultaneously raising his hands in the crude imitation of an amateur boxer. Punch. Jab. Uppercut. Winchester's unrelenting assault was currently keeping Jaune on the defensive.
So, he's been practicing, Jaune noted in surprise as he ducked under a right hook. Winchester had never been anywhere close to the current level of skill he was displaying. Explains the confidence, although... Jaune felt the beginnings of a feral smile tug at the edge of his lips, I can still whoop his ass—even on a bad day.
Using his left forearm to ward off the incoming punch, Jaune took a step into Winchester's guard and promptly elbowed the giant in the face (because really, when your opponent is wearing a full plate mail, where else can you aim), receiving a grunt in reply as the larger boy reeled back. A mistake. Not in decision, but in execution. Winchester's desire to create some distance between them was sound, but the way he hastily shuffled his feet to scrambled away shattered his center of gravity and Jaune was quick to capitalize on the opportunity.
Taking another step forward, Jaune pushed aside a weak retaliatory jab and used his body to check Winchester's, dropping the other boy into the ground like a sac of potatoes. Jaune's victory was short lived, however, as he heard a loud battle cry accompanied by the sound of running boots behind him. Turning around, Jaune was greeted by the rapidly approaching form of a Russel Thrush whom was swinging his fists in an attempt to avenge his fallen leader.
Unlike Winchester, Thrush didn't have a ghost of a chance against Jaune. If not obvious enough by how recklessly he was throwing his punches, then perhaps by the positioning of his feet—it was in a stance that many dual-wielders favored. Good for some quick movement and dodging, but lacking in terms of offensive power. With how aggressive Thrush was trying to be, it seemed quite contradictory how defensive his feet were positioned.
It was clear as day that the boy wasn't familiar in unarmed combat and Jaune, being the gracious guy that he is, was going to properly teach Thrush the joyous wonders of kissing the floor. Not to mention, Thrush's choice of wearing leather armor meant that the "lesson" he was unwittingly about to learn all the easier to carry out.
Parrying Thrush's next strike, Jaune preformed the same trick he used against Winchester—he stepped in, but rather than elbow Thrush in the head, Jaune clasped the boy's shoulders with both hands and drove his knee up into the boy's unsuspecting groin. The lanky teen gasped in pain and buckled, and Jaune decided to give gravity a little kickstart by shoving Thrush towards the ground.
CRASH!
Okay, maybe it was a not-so-little kickstart, but either way, Thrush face-planted on the floor and Jaune wasted no time in following up his throw with a series of harsh kicks and stomps at the fallen body.
Smack! Thud! Wham!
Jaune paused his foot midair after the third hit. Thrush had stopped responding to the blows, which meant he was probably out cold or was simply pretending. Still, it never hurt to be cautious, so Jaune brought his foot down for a fourth stomp before taking a step back to observe the scene.
Thrush was lying face down next to his feet, Winchester had crawled away from his original position and was struggling to stay upright near the wall, and there were a few shocked students whom were staring at the fight. Smiling for the onlookers, Jaune sauntered over to Winchester. This is what I live for.
"So! Have we learned our lesson yet, my boy?" he asked in a light and upbeat tone—as if they had not been actively exchanging blows (abet one-sidedly) a few moments ago.
"B-bugger off..."
"Hmm... I guess not. But luckily for you, I know just the solution!"
Jaune reached behind Cardin to grab the back of his head, twisted him around, and pretty much just introduced Winchester's face to the wall. Twice, as a matter of fact. After all, when dealing with an aura user, one was allowed to be rougher than normal. A lot rougher.
Pulling Winchester's head back, Jaune repeated his line of questioning. Only this time, his victim's response was a garbled mess—dazed from the recent head smashing he received. Jaune rolled his eyes and slammed Winchester's head into the wall a final time for good measure before reaching down to frisk the boy's pockets. Sure enough, after a little bit of digging, Jaune was rewarded with the familiar leather of Winchester's wallet. Snatching out the remaining lien, Jaune unceremoniously dropped the now empty wallet before walking over to the slumped form of Thrush and proceeding to do the same to him as well.
Seventy... Eighty... Eighty-three. Not bad, all things considered. It had been a while since Jaune had been able to get such a large haul from Winchester and Co. They, along with quite a few others, learned long ago to stop carrying large quantities of lien on their persons because once Jaune got ahold of them, it was all forfeit anyway. And Jaune wasn't bastard enough to force his victims to carry more—yet. So they usually only had the bare minimum amount of lien that was necessary (the amount just so happened to be the same as the street price for ten grams of the cheapest Synthetic Snow available) to keep Jaune from giving them a beatdown if they were unfortunate enough to ever get caught.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Jaune pocketed the money and walked away from the two unconscious students. A crowd was beginning to form, but Jaune was too tired to care. The fatigue, migraine, aches—everything—came back hard after the adrenaline from his fight wore off and he really needed to find a place to crash. Maybe if Jaune was any less exhausted, he would have questioned why everyone was staring at him as if he had grown an extra head rather than the usual mix of fear or disgust, but as it was, the tired bully just slowly slugged towards his room.
Phyrra Nikos was having a crazy day. Funnily enough, her day had started off pretty mundane; she woke up a little earlier than her teammates, took a shower, brushed her teeth, gotten dressed, combed her hair, and then waited patiently for the rest of her team to get ready. It was her basic routine every morning. And as routines go, Phyrra walked with her team to the cafeteria where they met up with their friends from team RWBY whom had just arrived themselves. Idle chatter was spoken over breakfast. Topics included various subjects such as homework questions, Ruby's newest weapon maintenance kit, the upcoming Vytal festival, etc.
After breakfast were classes and those had had been normal too. Professor—sorry, Doctor—Oobleck held a lecture over the history of Atlas and, much to the chagrin of the students, also assigned a 2 paged essay on Atlas's political structure due the following week. Professor Goodwitch's class followed and had actually been quite the fun experience; Phyrra got called up to fight against Ruby's team. Team RWBY did not have the same level of coordination as team CDRL (her previous opponents), but what they lacked in teamwork, they made up for in individual talent.
Despite team RWBY's best efforts though, Phyrra was able to eek out a victory through some clever Polarity usage and some quick thinking on her part.
"It was a grand match," Phyrra said after Professor Goodwitch called the spar, helping Ruby and her team to their feet.
"Doesn't feel like one," Ruby harrumphed as she slowly pulled herself up on Phyrra's extended hand and then proceeded to shoot her benefactor with her best evil eye glare (her super-diabolical-will-Yang-stop-laughing glare), but she may as well as have not tried. Her glares reminded Phyrra of a sweet pouting puppy and it was equally as adorable.
"We didn't even get your aura down to eighty."
Phyrra blushed at that. "B-but I mean it!" And she did. It had been a while since Phyrra could go all out and the thrill of losing herself in combat was a feeling she sorely missed.
"Your team attacks were really clever, especially the one with Weiss and Yang! The way Weiss used her glyphs to contro-" She cut off her rambling as she heard Ruby giggle.
"I know you mean it silly, I was just teasing you." And Phyrra just blushed even harder.
The remainder of the class went about as it usually did. Professor Goodwitch continued to call students up for their matches—Jaune included. Phyrra watched his spar with a twinge of pride. Jaune still lost, but he was getting better; his footwork was getting faster and he dropped his form less than before.
"Great job." She murmured as Jaune returned to his seat next to her.
"Thanks." Came his deflated reply. But Jaune still gave her his trademark smile which made Phyrra's heart do its little fluttering thing and Phyrra felt her own mouth twitching even more upwards—Oh Remnants above, STOP BEAMING! She mentally scolded herself as she fought to keep her happiness down to more... friend-ly levels.
After the Goodwitch combat trials (as students often called them) were Grimm studies, held by Professor Port. The madness of her day, Phyrra decided, began in Port's class. Jaune had actually fallen asleep, which was unusual. Not the falling asleep in class part; class with Port often had two options. One, catching up on lost sleep or two, distracting oneself with foreign stimulus such as books, phones, etc. The third and lesser known option, which is to simply pay attention, was only available for acting role models, such as herself, or for extra studious students, such as Weiss. Even then, it still took considerable effort on Phyrra's part to not zone out.
Jaune was a former member of option one, but ever since Phyrra set a limit on his media consumption, he swapped to option two to catch up on lost episodes. Phyrra asked about it once, and he replied with "I can sleep whenever, but Huntsman x Grimm waits for no one!" (Which was childish reasoning, but such a Jaune answer that it sent Phyrra into becoming a giggling mess). Seeing him without a scroll between his textbook should have sent alarm bells ringing for Phyrra.
Should have. Hindsight is twenty-twenty after all. Instead, she chalked it up to their late night training sessions finally taking its toll. Phyrra made a mental note to lighten her next couple of lessons, a-and maybe their after sparring stargazing spells (that she cleverly disguised as "resting intermissions") weren't strictly necessary, but she wouldn't trade that for anything else in the world, so those stayed.
Eventually, the bell rang to signal the end of Professor Port's class. Jaune was still sleeping so Phyrra just... let him. And offered to be the one to wake Jaune up for her team. A sleeping Jaune meant it was take twenty-two on getting Jaune to take on a more personalized interest in her and Phyrra was determined to succeed this time around.
Norra gave her a knowing look, accompanied by a supportive thumbs up, while Ren made the usual excuse to head first towards their rendezvous point in the library. Her teammates shuffled out along with the rest of the students and soon enough, Phyrra found herself alone with a heart that was beating a little too fast and a Jaune who was still an ongoing resident of dreamland.
Calm, now. She told herself. Deep breaths. Is that pine and oak I'm smelling? No, focus. Strange smells aside, the school dance was right around the corner and it would serve as the perfect chance to finally mirror her fantasies on into the real world. This is just another match. Jaune is just another opponent. Jab. Feint. Slash. Psyching her mind into tournament mode helped calm her frantically beating heart.
Taking another deep breath—hold it, now release—Phyrra finished steeling herself and placed a hand on Jaune's shoulder to gently shake him awake. He did get up, but that was the easy part. Step two, now this was the hard part—the part that separated the the gold finalists from the silver runner-ups; the winners from the losers.
However, she was ready. She could definitely do this. She certainly was not cowering out right how. Only taking a breather. Yup, just a little break before... before Jaune called her a mistress. Did she mishear him? After all, he could have said Mistral or even mistralian? It is her home town and it made sense to call her that. Okay, maybe she was stretching it. He definitely said mistress. His mistress. Oh gods, the implications of that statement alone was positively scandalous! The tabloids would absolutely be flying off the charts with gossip! But if Phyrra was being honest with herself, she didn't mind. It was the good scandalous. Kind of like... like her deepest and darkest fantasies, which she kept hidden away in the furthest corners of her mind, under strict lock and key.
The rapid rush of heat to her cheeks was also accompanied by a wave of confusion. Since when was I a mistress? Phyrra wondered. Jaune still looked tired; there were dark bags under his eyes that she hadn't noticed before and said eyes seemed a tad bit unfocused. So perhaps he mistook me for someone else? ...that line of thinking had to go, although the green eyed monster within Phyrra didn't quite seem to agree. Stop it, she chided herself. Whom Jaune sees is none of your concern. But she probably should schedule a talk with Jaune about this. Would schedule one, actually. After all, having a mistress is quite a frowned upon affair and it wouldn't bode well for the leader of their team to be caught messing around. And if, after the fallout, Jaune stopped seeing his mistress? Then who was she to judge? There were no personal feelings involved. None. At. All.
But the revelation of a third party of did put quite the hamper on Phyrra's plans. Dare she still try to ask Jaune to the dance? All of her failsafes and contingencies didn't take into account the scenario of Jaune already being in a relationship. I know he still holds some affection towards Weiss, but there hasn't been any development between them as far as I'm aware. Speaking of Weiss. Was she Jaune's mistress? That doesn't seem likely, but—
Any further thought was cut off as Jaune preformed an action that caught Phyrra even more off guard than she already was. He kissed her. On her hand, of course. Oh. Ohhh. Did he mean me after all? Were Phyrra's final thoughts right before her brain fizzled out and shut down. It seemed the god of blushes was out to get her on this particular day as Phyrra reacquainted herself with the familiar feeling of hot blood accumulating rapidly underneath her cheeks.
Error 404: Phyrra not found.
Rebooting Nikos.exe...
Please standby.
3, 2, 1...
With a start, Phyrra realized that she was the sole member of an otherwise empty classroom and that she was still staring at her out-raised hand. Her blush had faded from its bright red glory, down to a slightly less noticeable rosy tint. Where was she again? Oh, right. In Port's lecture hall. The very place where Jaune had... had brushed his lips against her hand. Yep. Brushed his lips, not kissed. She'll go that. It helped. A little.
No. Focus. Breathing technique. Phyrra reminded herself as she brought the back of her hand closer to her face. Jaune ki—brushed his lips—here. But it felt nice... a-and kind of intimate and... He also licked your index finger. The still working part of her brain helpfully quipped. Yes. That. She had to focus on that. It seemed safer than the other options. More manageable. Except the more she dwelled on the image of Jaune dipping his tongue in between her fingers, the more she realized just how nice the foreign sensation had felt.
And left her wondering how much better it would feel if he could use his tongue in other area—BREATHING TECHNIQUE—Phyrra practically screamed at her traitorous mind. Her blushes returned in full bloom once more and Phyrra forced herself to go through yet another set of self imposed breathing exercises.
Frantically, her brain started searching for something—anything—else to occupy itself on and that was when Phyrra realized she was still breathing in the unnatural scent of pine and oak from earlier. The smell was poignant and strong, but it helped Phyrra recall a few of her earliest childhood memories, in which she would spend hours frolicking around meadows and climbing the trees surrounding her home. Simpler times, much less chaotic.
I... I need to talk with someone. Anyone. Phyrra decided, once she finally managed to center herself. Something was up with Jaune and she really didn't know what to make of it.
Ozpin, headmaster of the illustrious Beacon academy, sat in a leather reclining chair, overlooking the day's paperwork. Nonchalantly, he flipped though the document in front of him, only glancing at bits and pieces of the text before signing his signature at the end. Plop, another set for the done pile. Stifling a yawn by taking a sip from his coffee mug, the man took a look at the remaining unfinished paperwork. And winced.
He had been working on this particular heap for the better part of an hour, but it still didn't look dented. Wistfully setting his mug aside, he reached for another set of papers and began renewing his efforts to work through the rest of the mound.
Happy thoughts now, happy thoughts. Ozpin chanted in his head. Imagine the golden deserts of Vacuo, or even the lush forests of Mistral. Yes, yes. Like that. Relax to that aroma—he paused and furrowed his brows. Because he was catching the slight scent of the Mistral forests. In Beacon. Imagination is good and all, but to be actually smelling something from leagues apart is quite the cause for concern.
Either he was going crazy or... someone had wielded magic. Magic—the act of using aura to breathe life into one's imagination. Magic—the power that rekindled the embers of mankind's lost hope to survive in a Grimm infested world. Magic—the poison which gave humanity their very first taste of hubris and led them to rebel against their gods.
But magic had been long lost to the ages; few people knew of its existence and fewer still have the capacity to actually wield the ancient power.
Those who did carried around with them a scent that emits from their aura whenever they tap into their arcane talents. Which led to Ozpin's current predicament. The scent of Mistral's forest is his scent—but he hadn't used his magic in years.
Paperwork forgotten, Ozpin grabbed his cane and stood up from his chair. He needed to investigate this immediately and sort out the culprit behind the smell. It wouldn't do to have a mage running around unchecked, especially if it was an agent sent by the Queen. Inwardly, Ozpin sighed. Turbulence swirled through the air, and Beacon was to weather the storm.
So yea! Tell me what y'all think! I wasn't sure what the Jaune from Malloblade's universe was exactly like, but based off the context clues, it seemed that he was an alcoholic, a druggie, and Phyrra's supreme sub. Him being a douche and being good at combat were little quirks I added to make him seem like the polar opposite of canon Jaune. And if you have even the smallest of dislikes toward this Jaune, then I've done my job. I'm actually trying to make him seem kinda like a jerk.
Anyway! Because we're only given a glimpse on Mallobaude's world, I had to make a few more assumptions. Like with Cardin and Co. In canon, Cardin is the douche that bullies Jaune so I assumed the situation would be in reverse—now he'll be the nice and lovable dork whom gets bullied by Jaune. That's why this Jaune is so surprised at Cardin's outburst. Jaune has known Cardin as an easy target for the entirety of his stay at Beacon, not as an actual perpetuator himself. And while Cardin is a jerk in the show, I'd like to believe that he mellowed out a bit after Forever Falls and this was just a pure, undeserved mugging by Jaune.
Finally, I don't know if it was obvious enough, but Jaune was high off drugs at the beginning of the chapter. According to Mallobaude's fic, Jaune was doing cocaine, but I don't know how to accurately describe the experience, so I just used an extremely exaggerated description of how I felt when I got hecka drunk. But I think that's okay. I'm just gonna retcon the cocaine with a made up drug called Synthetic Snow using the excuse that Remnant would probably have vastly different drugs from Earth. Then I'll be able to get away with b.s.ing the state that the drugs of Remnant put its users in. Oh yea, before I forget, here's your daily reminder to don't do drugs!
Cheerio.
P.S. Does anyone recognize where I ripped off the magic system from?