yuechihua

[yuechihua]

you know what would be a crazy harumasa alt outfit. the one where he's in his cunty little brown suit and he has hair slicked back and his shirt slightly unbuttoned. i would pay hyv my entire paycheck if i could get my hands on that

[yuechihua]

the way i wanna lock in on this ruggie fic so bad omgggg but i won't have any time to write this week,,,, i've just been rotating the plot outline in my head over and over

[yuechihua]

atp i think i just have to accept that all my fav characters have a very similar flavor of "yearning so badly it could kill them but they can't bring themselves to get closer nor to pull away (reasons and motivations vary)"

[yuechihua]

honestly, i think ruggie has some unexamined abandonment issues lol. he seems so flippant and mischievous, laughing off any trouble and teasing others without a care in the world. this is a part of him and what he enjoys, that's true, but the carefree demeanor and humor are also a coping mechanism.

he keeps people at a certain distance! it's why he doesn't call people his friends. he doesn't like to initiate things and prefers following rather than leading because then if it blows up, it's not his fault. and he's also calculating enough to throw his lot in with the people who can give him the resources he lacks. he knows what he's missing, and seeks it out in others!

ruggie also always has one foot out the door. he's cunning, and though he has hope, he's also too jaded to really throw himself whole-heartedly into a scheme unless the promise of a reward is guaranteed. stick with the person who'll help you survive, and then jump ship when it's not working out to the next person who can give you what you need.

trust is extremely difficult for him, though i think once earned, he never lets go. he takes care of his own, even at the expense of others. it's a very us vs them mentality that he doesn't shake, because he believes the world is a rigid dichotomy of give or take. so either you're on his side, or you're not. he's using you, or he's being used. it's comforting if he can ascribe things to such simple logic rather than rely on something as unpractical and fickle as sentiment. never give someone the power to hurt you!!

[yuechihua]

on all of our SOULS if anything bad happens to ruggie in ch7 i will rip nrc apart brick by brick with my teeth

[yuechihua]

i have such a hyper specific ask for you...

despite everything he's gone through and everything yet to come, do you think harumasa would still want to have a family? having a spouse, buying a house, organizing sunday dinners with his friends... ouuuuu the angst

side rant i think harumasa would be suuuuuch a good girl dad...

honestly? i think harumasa does crave the warmth of understanding and acceptance that family is supposed to offer. i would even argue he already has a family right now, section six, and that this fulfills and supports him in a way he's never had before. so on a conceptual level, he does want a family lol.

but if we're talking a more traditional family, with marriage, kids, the whole deal, then i think harumasa might be more reluctant to get into such a commitment. there's his illness ofc and how he doesn't want to leave someone behind to mourn, much less raise a kid on their own, because he knows how painful it is to be left behind. also, in general, his job is dangerous and takes up so much of his time, so he wouldn't have the space to give the proper care and attention that a family needs. and he is very, very aware of that.

but does he want it? i don't think he's ever been in a secure enough space to really consider it. he doesn't have such a happy or stable idea of family, either, so can he give someone else what he himself doesn't know? i definitely believe he's thought about it and entertained the idea of having a normal life like that, but doesn't let himself dwell on it. it's not practical to long for something he can't have.

so the long answer is that it's complicated, but the short answer is that i think he does want a family a little as a hypothetical and a marker of normalcy denied to him, but would only let himself seriously consider the idea if he had a more consistent, secure lifestyle and future. this isn't to say he's unhappy, though. a nontraditional family structure suits him and his lifestyle better, and it makes him happy to have people he can cherish, who also cherish him, regardless!

[yuechihua]

ruggie's pragmatism has always been a double-edged sword to me. he has a stubborn hope, forged by his difficult circumstances, and an enduring belief in making a better life for himself. at the same time, he's always aware of his own insufficiency due to his lack of resources and limiting circumstances.

he balances between confidence in his own abilities and his survival instincts, and scoffs at people who don't know true hardship or insecurity, who wouldn't survive half as well as he does. he's not ashamed of who he is, and yet he can never shake of the sting and stigma of being the perpetual, scrappy underdog. his hunger is both literal and metaphorical: he will never have enough, and he will always want more.

there's also the knowledge that he has no choice but to press on, because to hesitate or lose faith means failure and death.

[yuechihua]

hi gamers. today i will be rating all of ruggie's ssr cards that have officially been released on the eng server <3 the rest is under the cut for length!

starting off strong, we have his dorm ssr! this is a classic, and the first ruggie ssr ever released. i like his smug, cheeky expression and the glimpse of his little fangs. he looks like he just stole something and now he's holding it against you as he taunts you from a slightly elevated position.

rating: 7/10 for being solid and the first ever ssr

next, we have his vargas camp card! his outfit has proven controversial to some; to me, it's so ugly it veers around to being cute. i don't believe ruggie has the ability to dress himself smartly, nor does he care that much about doing so unless he needs to look nice for a job. i can just imagine him snickering as he picks something nice, durable, and expensive for himself as he swipes leona's card. the sweater in particular is excellent, and i know that mushroom is probably mildly poisonous to humans but it's okay, bc i'm immune to all poisons and his attempts to laugh at my discomfort. look at how wide his smile is! <3

rating: 8/10 for fun composition and ruggieisms

ruggie's new year card is so obviously perfect, there's very little i need to say about it. yet i will say more, in order for the world to understand all his charm points. the pompoms holding back his bangs? the little :3 face he makes as he winks? and the fish pouch, which holds a lucrative stash of stolen coin he pilfered from unwary students? it's absolutely adorable, and needs no further explanation. nrc students should fall to their knees and weep at the ability to glimpse him even once, and ruggie should steal their wallets as they're blinded by their tears and his stunning visage.

rating: 10/10 for capturing ruggie's cuteness

ruggie's spelldrive cards was long awaited, and it does not disappoint. i'm no fan of sports, but it captures a certain sleek, athletic elegance while maintaining his mischievous demeanor. for a change of pace, he looks a bit more confident rather than just smug. the googles holding his bangs back gives him a very handsome grace, and i’m a big fan of him having different hairstyles in his cards. the relaxed posture and balance he exhibits is also key to his charm.

rating: 10/10 for obvious reasons

i will have less to say about the birthday cards bc they all follow a similar format, but in general, i think ruggie looks good in black, and i like his smile! the posture is also very cheeky and very boyish. good for him! i hope he gets lots of presents! i also like the more detailed motifs surrounding him, showcasing items that are important to him as a character.

rating: 8/10 for solid ruggie work

for ruggie's second birthday card, i have to say i enjoy the outfit a lot more. i like his smart little bowtie, and the way he flaunts his fancy birthday boy outfit. look at him go! another year has passed, and he's as confident as ever! i think this captures the motion and energy that i associate with him!

rating: 9/10 for being my favorite bday outfit

for ruggie's third birthday card, i like how the birthday outfits attempt to capture a more whimsical, magical academy air. he looks so proud, and i think the outfit suits him very well! i also appreciate flower symbolism in his bouquet as someone who loves flowers and flower symbolism.

rating: 8/10 for that arcane academy flair

[yuechihua]

dr ratio rerun on hsr which MEANS harumasa reruns are not out of the picture as they're both free units. gamers let's all manifest it together bc i NEED him m6 one day..........

[yuechihua]

im always deeply fascinated by leona and jamil parallels. they're both people who are trapped by systems which they can't escape and circumstances out of their control. however, their reactions to their situations are so different, even when they're motivated by similar emotions.

leona internalizes all his pain and disappointment and simply gives up, because he believes it's too painful to keep trying when he knows he'll fail. potential and power means nothing when it won't get him any closer to what he wants. he can't stop caring as much as he pretends otherwise, and if he doesn't have any choices, at the very least he can choose to walk away.

on the other hand, jamil externalizes his anger; he's resentful of the systems he's trapped in, and this manifests in lashing out at other people (ie kalim), as they're easier and more tangible targets for his pain. so he looks down on others and resents them for having what he can't when he believes they deserve it far less than he does, and for all the ways his potential is stifled.

it's very "im never going to be good enough for anyone to care" vs "im too good and ill never have a chance to prove myself" of them lol.

[yuechihua]

Do you have any tips for writing? I'm tryna be as good as you lol 🩷 if not, what's your writing process?

Aw, I'm flattered you think I'm a good writer! <3 I do have some general advice about writing, but writing is such a complex discipline, so I can go into more specific details about any area of craft I didn't cover here (plot? pacing? characters? prose? etc) if you want to send a follow-up ask, anon! I'll put everything under the cut for length lol, but it's divided between general, non-craft specific advice, and then more specific craft advice based on my own process.

So first I'm going to talk about general, non-craft specific advice that I utilize!

Reading books. When you read other people's writing, you can study their craft. How do they organize the plot? How do they build tension? How do they manage good character development? Do you find it effective? Why? If not, what would you change to make it more effective? Also, what is the author attempting to do when they present information in a certain way? What do you admire about their work, and what can you borrow from them? Also, the more you read, the more you're exposed to different forms of creativity and ideas, which is important in keeping your own creativity sharp!

Consistent writing. Sometimes, it's important to just write! You can't improve if you never actually put pen to paper, no matter how much we talk about the idea of writing. Is there something you want to work on in particular, like characterization, dialogue, or world-building? Then you should try a few practices and prompts focusing on that particular skill! It's also helpful to just free write and get your ideas out; no writing is ever wasted. This also doesn't mean pushing yourself to write every day, and more about writing consistently, which are two different things. Maybe your process is writing for a few weeks, then taking a break, then coming back to writing. Resting and recharging your creative energy is also important!

Having a peer group. Writing isn't a solitary discipline. What I find helpful is having a group of friends who I can discuss writing with, whenever we're analyzing craft, or we're bouncing ideas off of each other. It's always enormously helpful to have interpersonal support, because it makes writing fun and is incredibly useful whenever you're feeling stuck or unmotivated. Never underestimate the power of #friendship, and it also helps to have people who believe in you and can help read your writing and point out areas to improve in or things you do well.

Now, I'm going to discuss how I approach writing! These are all general things I like to consider, and not always fanfiction specific lol.

The first thing I do is I consider what I want to write about. I like to begin with a general outline of events I want to get through, while leaving them vague enough that I can fill in the details or change scenes entirely if I feel like it's necessary. But if nothing else, I always like to have a starting goal and an ending goal. Where do I want the story to go? Sometimes, I start with themes or general ideas, and then refine it down into a particular plot. This helps prevent me from feeling aimless, because I know exactly where I want to go.

What do your characters want, and what do they need? These are two different things, and I also like to think about it in terms of the A/B plot, the desire/goal, the inner world/outer world, the emotional/physical, etc, depending on what fits it the best, since this dichotomy can be fluid. But in short, your characters always have a goal/desire driving them, and then a reason they want this thing so badly. When they have a goal, it creates tension when external or internal obstacles get in their way. Your character wants to achieve A, but what's driving them is actually B. Sometimes, what your character wants (A) is different from what they actually need (B). But either way, a character needs to desire something, and desire it badly enough to carry a story. All stories are about achieving this desire, having it thwarted, or coming to a compromise.

I always believe world-building should be in service of the story! Of course, there are genres and stories that are more focused on world-building, but I personally never found it interesting unless done really well lol. But your world both needs to feel like it exists beyond the boundaries of the story, while also not overwhelming the characters or plot. What I find interesting about world-building is how it challenge, influences, or interacts with characters and their actions, desires, and personalities. We need something to ground us, especially in a less familiar world, and what grounds us are understandable emotions and desires.

When it comes to dialogue, I want each character to sound unique, and to have their voice and speech patterns reflect their personality. They have to be distinguishable by speech alone. Do they have accents? Use slang? Are they cheerful, or taciturn? Make jokes, or are they always serious? I also find dialogue more believable when characters don't share exactly what they feel; no one ever just says what they mean, and talking around things can be more powerful than just stating it outright. It creates tension, but it's also just realistic that people struggle to express themselves, or simply refuse to. When it comes to fanfiction in particular, I like to study character voicelines and note down anything I notice about their speech patterns lol.

[yuechihua]

I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE A TWISTED FANS!??!?!??! You should tell me earlier bestie 😭✋️

Anyway ... I finish the Harumasa animation today (I finish it at 12 in the morning 💀) and I also create make a research report about problem solving with Harumasa the main center of this report 😭 idk what I'm doing but I just want everyone knows about Harumasa :""")

Btw I come back play Twisted today ... omg I can't believe I miss the 3rd anniv on english server 💀 Grimmyyy my boyy nooo 😔

i am a twst fan!! i was actually a fan back around 2020/2021 when it was first announced, then came back to it in like 2022 when twst en dropped LOL. i used to write a LOT of twst fic....... and now i'm back again so one can never really escape it....

congratulations on finishing your harumasa animation!!! that's such an impressive achievement <3 !!!! you're right. everyone should know more about harumasa bc no one does it like him!!!!

missing events is so hard!!! i'm also sad about missing the halloween events, haha... hopefully they'll rerun next year and you can pick up grim again ^_^

[yuechihua]

zzz devs, take away all of harumasa’s suffering and give it to kirishima instead

[yuechihua]

im going to scream cry throw up that Jamil fic was so beautiful sweet and cute i need to eat CEMENT!!!!!! [insert img of werewolf ripping off shirt]

im so glad you enjoyed it!!! <3 jamil deserves something nice in his life for once i think...

also, werewolf ripping off shirt meme attached below for you, anon:

[yuechihua]

finished all the recent updates to book 7 and i would like to apologize to diasmonia for underestimating them. i was not aware of their game

[yuechihua]

fic: a midnight guest

It's been several years since I wrote a proper twst fic and I played the game, haha. But I suddenly found myself missing Ruggie a lot, so I spent my free time grinding book six and seven and reading my old twst works... It's always an experience to see how writing can change even after a few months, let alone several years! I definitely want to write another Ruggie fic at some point and do my favorite little guy justice!!

Jamil is actually one of my favorite characters! I think he's actually quite fun with his superiority complex and resentment at his lot in life, hidden under his facade of benign normalcy. He's sly and isn't afraid to throw people under the bus, but he also despairs at how he's trapped by circumstances outside of his control. He's complex, which makes him a joy to explore!

I didn't want to write an explicit confession; I knew that going into this fic. I don't think it's quite Jamil's style, not with how taciturn he is, and it was a struggle to push the story along while keep in mind the ways Jamil holds himself back. And there's something more romantic to me, anyways, about an affection that can't be captured with simple words.

I wanted to craft a reader who's sly in their way, so they can keep up with Jamil and also take initiative when he isn't ready to. Maybe it was their plan all along to get into his head, haha, so he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them! I think Jamil would appreciate someone who throws him off his game sometimes, because he tends to settle into smug superiority when he's too comfortable... It's how he copes with his circumstances, and it's always fun to see that smirk drop from his face!

I contemplated having a gag at the ending, where Grim and Kalim find reader and Jamil asleep together in the kitchen, and wake them both up with their shouting. But it didn't quite fit where the story ended up going, so I decided to let Jamil have a nicer ending!

[yuechihua]

a midnight guest.

summary: jamil has to contend with an unexpected guest and his own growing feelings when ramshackle dorm's pipes burst and kalim invites you to stay at scarabia.

notes: 4.7k words, author's notes, fluff

Jamil has long known of Kalim’s unfortunate habit of picking up strays, his inability to resist a pitiful look or downturned mouth, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised when Kalim shows up at the dorm with you and Grim in tow. 

“I’m giving them a place to stay!” Kalim announces, gesturing at you and Grim like he’s presenting Jamil with two kittens he’s found off the side of the road. His smile is bright, even as the sun slips down the horizon, painting the entrance of their dorm in darkening oranges and reds.

A cool breeze stirs through the evening, and Jamil keeps his face perfectly neutral as his eyes bore into you and Grim. Grim shuffles like an impatient child, but you’re more tranquil, clutching a duffel bag to your chest.

When you notice Jamil’s eyes on you, you smile at him, apologetic.

“Sorry,” you murmur. There’s a trace of embarrassment in your voice. “I know this is unexpected. But the pipes at Ramshackle burst, and no one else has room for me. I was going to ask Crowley, but—”

“But I found them!” Kalim interrupts. “And we have so much room, and the idea of our friends out in the cold is sad, and the more the merrier, right?”

Kalim picking up strays is a kind gesture, sure, but with his scattered attention, the responsibilities and care inevitably end up falling on Jamil. Promising things he can’t keep, making plans that just end up creating more work and stress for other people, thinking kindness is a convenient excuse for every irresponsible action: it’s all so painfully Kalim it makes Jamil want to shake him until some loose screw in his head clicks into place.

You’re not to blame for this situation, not really. Jamil doesn’t even hold any particular distaste for you; his shit list is a mile long, but you’ve generally managed to keep yourself off it. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s enthused at having to put up another guest for the night. It’s a security risk, even though he doubts you could do anything with both a lack of magic and malice.

Additionally, you’ve always been more of Kalim’s friend than his. Everything he has belongs to Kalim, but nothing of Kalim belongs to him, as much as Kalim insists they share everything, like true friends do. It’s a naive thought, ugly in the pure way Kalim says it. Jamil has no desire to compete for things that can’t be his. 

Besides, friendship means nothing in their world. Someone is always waiting with a knife behind their back or poison in their hand. You could mean well, but who’s to say you don’t have ulterior motives of your own?

“Come in,” he says. His voice is smooth, cordial. The perfect attendant, the diligent servant. “We do have quite a few spare rooms. I can make one up for you.”

“Oh, and they should join us for dinner, too! Jamil is the best cook,” Kalim says, turning towards you with puppy-dog enthusiasm. “You’ll love anything he makes!”

“I don’t want to impose,” you begin.

“Free grub? Count me in!” Grim says. “Whatcha got on the menu?”

“Ooo! I don’t know! But I just know it’s going to be good. Do you have anything you want? I’m sure we can get it for you!”

Jamil lets a sigh escape him. You’re the only one who seems to notice, watching him with a tilted head, as if observing him, but he has no time to puzzle out your intentions. Dinner was just supposed to be Kalim and him, and now he has to figure out a way to feed two additional people. There’s no reason for you to pay attention to him, regardless.

The rest of the evening passes only with the minimal amount of trouble that Kalim’s presence usually brings: careless promises of future parties, a mess of dishes he has to clean, and overwhelming generosity that needs to be checked. Somehow, Jamil manages to whip together a few more dishes to feed both you and Grim, the latter whose stomach seems to be endless. Kalim’s chatter flows just as eternally, and Jamil can only pray for dinner to be over quickly.

When it’s over, he guides you and Grim to your room, leading you down winding hallways and luxuries strewn carelessly at every corner, priceless vases and artwork that’s worth more money than he can make in a lifetime. It’s a constant reminder of Kalim’s wealth, his endless presence saturing into every corner of the dorm.

“This is your room,” he says. It’s a spare guest room, one of many, in fact, that Kalim has. It’s sumptuous as all of them are, with silk drapes, embroidered bed sheets, and heavy wooden furniture crafted by skilled artisans. 

“This is one swanky place!” Grim crows. “Do ya think we can take some of it home?”

Jamil smiles, a touch coldly. “Only if you can afford it. A pillow alone is worth more than your entire dorm.”

“Okay, jeez,” Grim murmurs. 

“Thank you for this, Jamil,” you say. You linger at the doorway, even as Grim runs in and starts jumping on the bed in delight, the mattress soft and springy enough to launch him several feet in the air.

“Say nothing of it. Kalim invites friends over all the time.”

“It just seems like a lot of work,” you venture. “And it was last minute. I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It’s no more work than I’m used to.”

“All right.” You look like you want to say more, but mercifully, you only dip your head at him. “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect.” If there was one thing to say about you, then it was that you understood when to keep your mouth shut and read the mood, a skill both Kalim and Grim sorely lacked.

It’s late at night when Jamil finally has time for himself, and he settles on the edge of his bed, letting his hair loose, running through the list of everything he has to do in the morning. It’s exhausting that his day never really seems to end. There’s always something to prepare for, another task to consider, someone else to watch over.

Not even his time belongs to him. His life will always be spent at another’s whims. 

His head throbs. He stands, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he’ll grab some water to help him sleep.

The halls are silent at this time of night, a change from the usual noise and rush of students. It’s peaceful, the shadows pooling at his feet, the moonlight gilding everything in silver. In its solitude, it almost makes Jamil feel like the dorm is his, as foolish of a thought as it is.

There’s shuffling coming from the kitchen. He freezes just beyond the door, hand gripping the pen in his pocket. An intruder? Or another student? Regardless, he rounds the corner, pen in his hand, a spell on the tip of his tongue—before you whirl around, lit by the buttery yellow light of the fridge, clutching a plate of grapes and a glass of water with one hand.

“Jamil,” you say in a gasp, startling just enough that the water ripples in your cup. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says, relaxing his grip on his pen.

“I was still feeling hungry. I didn’t want to bother anyone, so…”

“What about Grim?”

“He’s asleep. Here, let me get you some water.”

“I don’t need–” But you’re already reaching for another ceramic cup, and it’s more trouble to refuse this small kindness than it is to accept it. He leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen, marble counter digging into his hip, watching you fill the glass at the sink.

“Here.” You offer it to him. “Want some grapes, too?”

He looks at the pile of grapes in your dish, shining in rich, luscious purples and greens, like miniature jewels, dew clinging to the skin. “I’ll take one.”

The water is cool, and the grapes burst with fresh, sweet juice on his tongue. The two of you snack in the quiet. It’s surprising how relaxed he feels, how easy it is to be by your side. There’s no malice from you, nor a crushing weight of expectation. You’re like the clear, refreshing water in a stream.

The grapes are almost gone when you speak, rolling one between your fingers like a marble. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more.”

“Me?” he says.

“Is there another Jamil Viper in the room?” you tease. “Yes, you.”

“Why? There’s no benefit to getting to know me. I’m not like Kalim.”

There’s a mischievous edge to your smile as you glance at him. “So what? I just want to get to know you.”

“... I’m not an interesting person.”

“I like people like you,” you say. “Here. Let me wash these.” Before he can protest, you’re already grabbing his cup and bringing all the dishes to the sink. Your words are strange, and he can’t make sense of them at all. Him? You want to know him? After everything he’s done to present himself as an ordinary student, why would you take an interest in him?

Maybe it’ll be to his benefit, though. You have ties to Crowley, and your own social connections could prove useful someday. There’s always the possibility that you’re attempting to use him in some regard, too. If that’s the case, then a relationship of mutual give and take isn’t the worst thing in the world, despite your lack of magic.

“Good night again, Jamil,” you say. It’s an odd feeling, not having to rush around, knowing things will fall apart if he doesn’t keep them together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he says. You leave. For a few seconds more, Jamil lingers in the empty kitchen, the memory of the sweet taste of grapes on his tongue.

In the morning, you act no differently than usual. It’s as if Jamil dreamt the entirety of last night’s encounter.

“I hope you slept well,” you greet him at breakfast.

“I hope the same for you,” Jamil responds. He’s attentive to your movements, studying you out of the corner of his eye. You act no differently than normal, chiding Grim for eating so fast he chokes, and bantering with Kalim. You’re casual, relaxed. 

The day passes much the same after that. He keeps track of Kalim, handles various chores throughout the day, and attends classes, perfecting his goal of keeping his grade at a middling, respectable level.

It bothers Jamil, just a little, how aware he is of you, seeing the flutter of your uniform in the corridors, hearing your laughter across the lunchroom. When you’re with your friends, Ace and Deuce, passing him in the halls, you smile at him.

“Hello, Jamil,” you greet.

“Hello,” he responds.

There’s no more to your conversation, simple and short as it is, even as he hears Ace in a fierce whisper, exclaiming, “Prefect, I didn’t think you knew Jamil!”

Jamil entertains the thought that you’re simply trying to cozy up to him in order to target Kalim, but he banishes it as soon as it arrives. You’re already friends with Kalim, so if you wanted to harm him, you’d have the chance to do so by now. So why the interest in him? What possible reason could you have to get closer to him?

That night, as he sits in bed, Jamil can’t bring himself to sleep. Instead, he heads out to the kitchen again. It’s for no reason other than a midnight snack, he reassures himself, even as his pace quickens when he hears the quiet noise of someone in the kitchen past the hour everyone should be asleep.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, a pot of warm tea gently humming on the stove. There are two cups and a plate of crackers set next to you.

It’s hard to believe you’ve taken a genuine interest in him, but the suspicions temporarily relax as you offer him a cracker from the same stash you’re munching on. He takes it without a word, and you pour tea into the second cup, sliding it over to him.

“You look nice with your hair down,” you greet. “Can’t sleep?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m just here because I want to be.”

“I see.” Jamil takes a sip from his tea. It’s fragrant and floral and altogether a gentle taste.

There’s no more conversation until the food is done and the tea is cooled, at which point you simply hop off the counter and say, “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect,” he responds.

In the morning, over breakfast, as Grim squabbles over Kalim feeding him too many crackers, you say, over your own plate once he finally sits down, “Good morning, Jamil. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. It was fine.”

It’s a simple greeting, nothing more. But there’s a weight to your words, as if your day can’t start and your night can’t end until you see him.

After that, it becomes an unspoken agreement for the two of you to meet every night. In that quiet space of time, when everyone else is asleep and the halls belong to him, Jamil finds himself drawn to the kitchen. It’s rare that he arrives before you do, with your plate of simple snacks and quiet companionship.

The two of you talk about nothing in particular, but even a relaxed, meandering conversation still washes away the exhaustion of his day. The sound of your voice has come to be rather familiar and soothing.

“Grim keeps a stash of tuna cans under his bed for emergencies, but keeps eating through them whenever he gets hungry, which defeats the point of having a stash,” you’ll tell him. 

“Kalim doesn’t even think to keep food on him,” Jamil will reply dryly. “All he has to do is ask someone to fetch him something if he’s hungry.”

This is the only time of his day in which he has a moment for himself. Yet, he doesn’t mind sharing a piece of his time with you. You have common sense; you don’t irritate him unnecessarily; you’re clever and useful. That’s all it is, and no more than that.

“You look at the prefect a lot,” Kalim remarks once.

“I don’t,” Jamil replies. “Since they’re our guests, I’m just taking it upon myself to make sure their needs are met.”

Still, perhaps Jamil has gotten too used to your presence if even Kalim notices, though Kalim has always had his moments of unnerving emotional perception.

Several weeks or so later, you, Grim, Jamil and Kalim are passing time in the lounge. The four of you are supposed to be “studying” (read: you and Jamil are going over class notes, and Kalim and Grim are playing some nonsensical card game whose rules they keep making up). Occasionally, though, when he looks up, he’ll meet your gaze, and you’ll make a silly face at him. It’s cute, not that he would ever tell you that.

He’s just put his pen to paper when Kalim exclaims, in a voice louder than it needs to be, “Ramshackle is fixed?”

“Yeah, they just got it done. But dunno if I wanna go back tomorrow,” Grim says. “We’ve got a nice gig here.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” Kalim says. “Oh, and feel free to visit as often as you want, too! It’s going to be lonely without you two!”

A blotch of ink is forming under his pen, staining his paper with a dark pool. Of course. How could he forget? Your time here is temporary. You were always going to leave, and it’ll be a relief to have two less people to worry about. 

He only feels so strange because he’s fallen into a habit of greeting you every morning, and seeing you every night. It’s simply difficult when his routine is shaken in unexpected ways, that’s all.

Jamil risks a glance at you, but your head is still bent over your paper. He can’t make out your expression, but your hands have stilled over your notebook. What are you thinking? He won’t be able to find out until tonight.

Grim and Kalim chatter in the background, returning to their game, but you and Jamil are both weighed down by unexpected silence. The blotch on his paper has grown, ink staining and spreading. There’s no way to fix it now.

The evening passes slower than usual. Jamil finds himself hurrying to the kitchen, the moon lighting his way as he flies with silent steps. However, several feet away, voices and warm light spill out from beneath the door.

Jamil’s pace slows, something sludgy and dark churning in his stomach. He doesn’t want to look, but he has to. You’re in the kitchen as usual, elbows propped against the counter, a plate of cookies resting beside you. And right next to you, his smile glowing like the sun, eyes crinkled in foolish complacency, is Kalim.

The two of you are engaged in some conversation about classes or extracurriculars. As Jamil stands in the pool of shadows, outside the reach of the light, all he can think about is how wide your smile is, an ease in your stance that only Kalim can bring out in people.

“Hi Jamil!” Kalim chirps, head perking up in his direction. “You can’t sleep, either? I was just going to grab something to eat, but then I saw the prefect was here!”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t able to.”

“Come join us,” Kalim urges. “Do you want some of these cookies?”

“I’m not hungry.”

The thing about wanting, Jamil finds, is that it’s useless. Desires like his will only go unfulfilled, because, after all, he can never put himself first. Everything he does, everything he has, will only ever be given in service to Kalim. He’s doomed to forced mediocrity, to hide in the shadows to make Kalim shine brighter.

It’s a lesson he’s had to learn again, and again, and again. Nothing is his. He can only bite back his own useless anger, a snake choking on its own poison.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” he says.

“Okay! Come back when you’re done!” Kalim exclaims.

Jamil doesn’t meet your eyes as he strides away, keeping his steps even, measured, and fast. You’ll be gone by tomorrow, and he will still be here with Kalim, the shackles of an unchanging relationship and routine and future.

His body reacts before his mind can when he hears footsteps behind him, whirling around before your outstretched hand can touch him. It hovers in the air between the two of you, before you let it fall.

“Jamil,” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head.”

Your eyes are luminous, reflecting the silver of the moon. “Can I walk with you, then?”

“You left Kalim behind?”

“I was worried about you,” you say. “He’s all right. He was going to head to bed soon, anyway.”

He lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair. “All right.”

It’s a quiet walk. He’s learned to keep his footsteps silent, but you haven’t had to learn that same skill. It’s a strange comfort, the echo of your rhythmic steps, a constant reminder of your presence. He finds himself trying to match your particular pace.

“Grim and I are moving back to Ramshackle now that the pipes have been repaired,” you say. “They had to overhaul the entire thing.”

“It’ll be nice to go back home, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but I’ll miss Scarabia.”

“Like Kalim said, you’re welcome to visit.”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“If Kalim says it’s all right, I don’t see why not.”

You scuff at the ground with one of your shoes, as if you’re unsatisfied with that answer. “I’ll miss this too, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Getting you to myself every night,” you say. “I like Kalim, but I don’t really get to spend time with you alone like this.”

At some point while you’ve been talking, your steps have slowed to a crawl until you’re no longer moving. He’s stopped as well. You stare at him, unflinching, chin raised. What does he look like in your eyes?

“You say a lot of bold things, prefect.”

“You don’t get what you want if you’re not bold.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but what would the point be? Right now, you’re still here. You’re with him. Your words are assured, confident, in a way that makes him want to believe you. 

“It’s a nice night,” he begins. “Nice enough for a flight.”

If Jamil was a better person, he could say the suggestion in his words is born from affection, an innocent desire to be close to you. After all, Kalim is the one constantly offering people rides on his magic carpet, as if the sky is also a luxury he can own. But he doesn’t own it, and he doesn’t own your time, either.

“Should we go for a loop around the area, then?” you say.

It takes little effort to find a broom and repurpose it for his uses; flight magic is a parlor trick, but magic has always come easily to him. What Jamil has to be more careful with is flying with another person as he drags the enchanted broom out to a balcony. You hop on with ease, keeping a suitable distance behind him, hands wrapped around the handle in front of you. 

You seem used to the process. Have one of your freshman friends taken you out like this? Or Kalim? Were you comfortable enough to wrap your arms around their waist with the unthinking nature of affection?

“Should I get closer?” you ask. There’s new mischief in your voice, as if you can sense his thoughts. If nothing else, Jamil is tangibly aware of the warmth and weight of you behind him.

“Only if you don’t want to fall off,” he says curtly. There’s rustling, and then your arms are sliding around his waist, hugging him close. Jamil is silently thankful for the fact you can’t see his face.

“It’s always important to be careful of flight safety. Vargas told us that, you know!”

“Don’t let go, then.”

With no more warning, he sets off into the air, ascending with a practiced ease and speed. Up, and up, and up, until he can disappear into the clouds, reach up close to touch the frosty brightness of the stars, until everything below him shrinks and disappears into insignificance and nothing matters except for this.

The wind kisses his face, the cool night enveloping him. He’s free. He could go anywhere, do anything, and there will be nothing to stop him. This is his, all his.

“How far do you think you can go?” you shout, raising your voice against the rushing air. 

“As far as I want.”

“Are there any places you want to visit, then?”

“Everywhere,” Jamil says. The wind frees an honesty in him he wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. “I’ve always wanted to go all over the world at some point.”

“Well, we have one night to do it all,” you say, playfully. 

“You want to come with me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Your arms are still looped around his waist, the only spot of warmth against the cold night.

“It wouldn’t be too bad if you did.” 

In response to his words, you squeeze his waist once.

The two of you soar through the air for another hour, until you start shivering and Jamil brings his broom around, alighting on the same balcony you departed from. It’s over, but the thrill of his momentary freedom still hums in his blood.

Perhaps you’re feeling the same way, because neither of you make a move to head inside. Instead, you rest your arms atop the white stone balustrade, staring out at the sky.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says. 

“Yeah. I can’t impose on you any longer. So, can you indulge me a little?”

“What is it?”

“Let’s spend a little more time together.”

“All right,” he concedes. You start making your way down the halls, a cheer lighting your steps. You’re heading to the kitchen again, and this time, it’s mercifully empty. No Kalim in sight, all the lights turned off. The only reminder of his presence is the empty plate left on the counter, which Jamil will have to wash later.

You drum your fingers on the marble island, some imaginary rhythm he can’t follow, before sliding down to sit against it, knees tucked up to your chin. You wave a hand at him, and he reluctantly sinks down until he’s cross legged, right next to you, on the cool tile floor. Shadows and appliances he uses everyday stretch out before him, but the darkness always makes everything a little unfamiliar.

“It feels like this is our secret clubhouse,” you say. “It’s nice.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I like spending time with you.”

“Why?” he asks. “I told you from the beginning. I’m not an interesting person. There’s not a lot I can do for you.”

Your smile is cheeky as you rest your head on your knees. “Let me tell you a secret, Jamil. Ramshackle was actually fixed a while ago. Grim and I could have left a lot sooner; he just let the proverbial cat out of the bag by accident today.”

“Prefect,” Jamil says, appraising you with renewed interest. “You’re slyer than you look.”

You wiggle your fingers. “You don’t get by without being a little underhanded, you know!”

Your conversation winds pleasantly through all manners of topics, from the mundane to the academic. The hours are ticking away, and he’ll have to get up in the morning to handle all his various responsibilities. But it’s hard to tear himself away from you, even when his limbs grow numb from sitting for so long. If Jamil leaves, he knows the moment will be over. Just for now, it’s the two of you, alone in your own world. 

You’re yawning when he finally broaches his question; he’s been waiting for just the right moment. “Prefect.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you leave once Ramshackle was fixed?”

It’s hard to look away from you when you keep smiling at him like this, as if he’s being drawn like the tides by the moon: a helpless, and inevitable, phenomenon. “Because I want to say good morning and good night to you every day.”

“Oh.”

“Jamil?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

The thing about want is that Jamil is familiar with it; he knows acutely what it’s like to desire more than he should, to have it fester and rot from inside, as if it’ll destroy him if he doesn’t do something about it. Nothing is his, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to have just one thing, something he can’t let anyone else take from him, to selfishly cling to it.

 “I’m going to tell you good night, prefect. And when you wake, I’ll be the first one to greet you,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even right now you’ll do it?”

“I’ll say it first if you want. Good night, prefect.”

 Good night, Jamil.” The sleepy excitement in just those few words alone is palatable.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts so it’s comfortable. Neither of you speak. From your even breathing, you might have fallen asleep already.

In a second, Jamil will move. He can wake you up just long enough for you to walk back to your room, or he’ll carry you if he has to. Then, he’ll slip into his own bed. If the two of you are caught together, it’ll cause too much commotion. 

But for now, Jamil will simply enjoy your presence, and tomorrow, he’ll be the first to tell you, “Good morning.”