#loujami

hurt lou and comfort from jamil plus a special cameo from leona the wingman dispelling the bullshit and mirrors

hi im making a comeback with angst, things dont feel very fun right now but i feel like i need to write to keep from spiraling. cw: self deprecating talk, but it doesn’t get too graphic. the worst of the argument happens offscreen. the conversation has a bunch of downs, but i think it reconciles in a cathartic way.

"Oh, great. Here comes her savior."

"Excuse me?" Jamil bristles at Leona's tone.

"Hm. You don't sound too unpleased to hear that." That extra jab might elicit retaliation from Jamil, but Leona's expression sobers. As if this entire situation was beneath him. "At least I won't have to deal with another moody herbivore being a pain in the ass."

"Did Lou come to the botanical gardens?"

"We didn't talk, if that's what you're hoping to find out." Leona's tail flicks impatiently. As he walks off, he throws one last barb. "She's worse than you. Damn temperamental first-years."

To anyone unassuming, it's a pointed remark. But Jamil gets the inkling that this is a warning.

or: Entertaining the scenario that Jamil's never kissed anyone before. Properly, that is.

cw: unbeta'd and self-indulgent. this isn't part of lou's canon timeline in twst's main story, it's just a fun scenario i've been thinking of, technically AU by that definition?? ++it's all lighthearted banter, let's savor the fluff and silliness together😇

What he doesn’t expect, after they pull apart, is for her to burst into a giggling fit. 

“Holy shit, you’re so bad at this,” she finally manages to get out through her laughter.

Jamil wants to recede into the depths of his hoodie. His arms lightly push at her shoulders. “Fine, just—forget about it.”

“No, no, I mean it’s cute, and that’s not a bad thing—” Her palms rub along his upper arms in an attempt to soothe the burn of embarrassment.

“Lou, just drop it.”

“Look, first kisses don’t count if they’re disappointing, alright?” she says in a soft voice. “Do…you want to try that again? I can take the lead.”

He doesn’t reply immediately. Mulling over those words, scrutinizing Lou’s expression, because it’s strange to see her so laid back—does she actually have experience doing this or was she quoting some obscure pop culture reference again? “...Fine.” He supposes there’s no way this could get any worse.

“Alright, close your eyes.”

He does. And promptly feels her gently prod at the space in between his eyebrows.

“And you need to relax.”

“I am this close to outright leaving you.”

“Just trust the process.” She tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. “And don’t press your lips together too hard, it’s supposed to feel soft. Even if you’ve got chapped lips—”

“Lou…” He warns in a low voice.

“Alright alright! I’ll shut up now, I’m leaning in!” Her hands cup his cheeks, gently bringing their faces close. 

It’s a soft and chaste kiss, tender and unrushed, unlike his attempt. And it feels natural, the way their lips slot together. There’s an indescribable warmth in how his nerves are attuned to her touch, yet at the same time, his pulse was thrumming rapidly, threatening to beat out of his ribcage. 

And then he feels her suck on his bottom lip, pulling a strangled noise from his throat.

His eyes fly open, his surprise shattering the moment.

“Was that too much?” Her touch withdraws hastily.

“It wasn’t—I was just…” He’s not used to being out of his depth, to leaving himself in another person’s hands, to being plain vulnerable.

“...Was it bad?” Lou’s gaze shifts from concerned to her familiar one of self-doubt. 

No, but it’s not like he can just… say that. Jamil gathers himself with a little sigh. “Again.” His fingers tilt her chin up.

“Eh? What do you mean, again—wait!” Her palm quickly slides up as a barrier. “You can’t just jump into a kiss unless you wanna clack teeth—”

(As much as Jamil is a quick learner, it takes them a few more tries to figure it out. Until they’re both breathing a little heavier than before, until their lips are both swollen and bruised. Until all that’s left in the wake of excited giddiness is a happy, tender warmth. Just two souls drinking in each other’s affection. Nothing more, nothing less.)

wherein jamil soothes lou's wrist pains and irrational midterms thoughts, mostly.

cw: in spite of the title there is not much in-your-face romance, its just 2 guys being 2 flavors of awkward with eo. making a one-off reference to this jamil hc i have (and maybe i might perhaps be foreshadowing another drabble scenario of his fire magic coming into play). unbetad, all mistakes are mine.

As midterms loomed closer and closer, after-school study groups became increasingly common.

The library? Too crowded. The Mostro Lounge? Demanded an overpriced drink per hour you stayed. And there were barely anymore free empty rooms to reserve on campus. So wherever the Ramshackle duo were invited, there they would shamelessly make use of the hospitality offered to them.

Correction—Grim was shameless.

Lou was so full of shame and intent on studying on her own that in a roundabout way, she would be pushed into spending the night instead of breaking curfew to walk back to Ramshackle.

Combine that mix of personalities with Scarabia's trademark hospitality—which slowly pushed the dorm up Grim's personal top seven list—and that should mean the Ramshackle duo were set for midterms right?

"Where's…" Lou's paused her second round of note-taking, idly flexing her wrist as she searched for Grim. "…oh."

Jamil, who was sitting across from her, glances up from his own work to follow her gaze. Seeing that the direbeast was curled up under a pile of the lounge's throw pillows, pitchforked tail lolling over the edge of the seat. "Well, that was to be expected."

"I should wake him up, shouldn't I?" Lou goes to stand up.

"Leave him be." He sighs, returning to his own studying. "Don't you still have three more chapters to reread?"

"Ugh, you're right." Her shoulders slump. Of course she saved the longest and most info-filled chapters for last. "I'd punch them out if my hand wasn't killing me."

Despite her lighthearted words, she picks up her pen and goes back to silently reading the mess of doctors' writing that was her lecture notes. Or was it her first round of notes? The handwriting was indistinguishable from each other.

And the current set of notes she was writing looked like a marked improvement.

"For starters, don't grip your pen that hard."

"Easier said than done, this is what it'll look like if I ease up on the pressure." The end of her pen taps against the chicken scratch.

He presses, "cursive writing also lessens wrist strain."

"Yeah, but it also makes my writing harder to read. Grim needs to be able to understand my handwriting." Lou waves off the rest of his concern. "I'm fine."

Truth be told—he's been sneaking looks at her, out of habit from keeping a watchful eye on Kalim's guests. Watched as the furrow in her brow creased the more she dragged herself to finish each chapter. That the resulting soreness and brusque tone was at the forefront of her mind instead of alchemical equations.

Don't say I didn't warn you, Jamil wants to say. Instead he sighs, more annoyed at himself for expecting that he would have to tutor some more freshmen. "All right."

The resulting silence is terse. Textbook pages flipping, old quizzes crinkling, and her pen scratching increasing in tempo. With aggression, with frantic and scattered thoughts that were stubbornly bottled up. As much as she was good at spinning a lot of empty words into a semblance of something, the same can be said vice versa—with her demeanor speaking volumes in spite of her determined silence. And just when she seems to reach her breaking point…!

"Ah, I guess that's it." Her pen clatters atop the surface of the low table. "One and a half chapters left, I was kinda hoping I'd be able to leave just one more chapter for cramming." And she has the audacity to give him a strained smile.

(At least Jamil knew how to vanish into the background—had that instinct trained into him from a young age. Watching Lou try to fold herself into taking up less space was irritating.)

Jamil closes his textbook, pages and hardbound cover making an audible Thump. She flinches in surprise.

But she says nothing as he moves to sit beside her, eyes him blankly as he asks to see her hand.

"The other one." Annoyance creeps into his voice as she stretches out her right hand, makes each word come out clipped and harsh.

Lou's voice wavers with nervous laughter. "I don't think it would be good to bring out the little flames for my left hand."

"I'm not going to." Jamil pauses. "Will you just let me take a look?"

Her left hand has a noticeable writer's callus on the side of her ring finger, another one on her pinky, and a third bump on the inner side of her thumb. The skin on each of those points of contact red and warm from her earlier exertion, and a stark contrast to the smoothness of her palm. Like all calluses, these weren't a result of today's intensive studying. Rather, they had been accumulated through years of habit.

"Tell me if this starts hurting." Jamil's touch goes to massage her wrist and part of her forearm.

"Oh, it's hurting," she says without missing a beat.

He presses down hard as a warning—once is enough—making her arm spasm and yank back. "Don't joke around."

To some relief, Lou doesn't attempt any more backtalk. Just watches him work.

Having her gaze trained on him was a strange sensation, making the back of his neck warm with embarrassment. "Review what you've written, this will take a while," Jamil says.

To a greater sense of relief, Lou remains quiet.

Right until he finishes, letting go of her left hand.

"I didn't know massages didn't have to hurt." Lou's gaze is pointed to one of the other sofas in the Scarabia common area, looking back on an experience that carried both wistful nostalgia and long-buried pain. It was pointless to get her to make eye contact with him. "Um, thanks."

"Just don't overexert yourself for the rest of the week." Jamil stands up, gathers his things. "Let Grim do your note-taking instead."

"I can't ask that of the Great Grim." The laugh that spills from her is the most genuine sound she's made. "Would it be too much to ask you to teach me those pressure points? Just in case I'll have to do it for Grim when his paws get sore?"

"After midterms." How strange that his heart felt lighter, that this conversation was easy.

As if remembering where they were and who she was talking to, as if on cue, red blooms across Lou's cheeks. "Yeah..! A-After midterms, definitely."

And that reaction pulls an amused smile from Jamil.

lou is not that in-tune with her body. she frequently loses herself in what ever task that's pressing at her mind, be that studying, cleaning - even walking from place to place, she's struggling to figure out what needs to be done for that day, and the day after.

so, imagine her surprise when kalim pulls her into the kitchen (ala right place right time-style?) as jamil's finishing up a batch of potstickers.

ofc her protests at disturbing them go unheard over their Hospitality™️and she gets handed one piece to try. already cut in half, steam wafting aesthetically.

"how is it? what do you think?" kalim looks at her expectantly.

"chew your food first before answering him, prefect."

ofc it's fucking delicious. "...'s good." she swallows before repeating herself. "like, really good."

"right? jamil's so good at cooking - take the other half!"

(unbeknownst to her jamil's smug with the praise. good thing he can focus on watching the potstickers cook. crispy outer layers while keeping the filling fragrant and chewy. he supposes he can dish the potstickers with a little extra flourish right as they turn into that perfect golden brown. even without much for garnish, it smells heavenly. kalim's already set on eating in the kitchen instead of waiting for them to find a seat at the cafeteria. typical.

but he doesn't mind that very much. not if it means he gets to have another person appreciate his effort.

it's nice, seeing her eyes sparkle like that.)

the idyllic fleeting thought shatters right as jamil hands lou her own utensils. "oh, no thanks! i'm actually on my way back to grim."

she's already backing towards the exit.

"hm? you aren't hungry?" kalim's foregone the dipping sauce in favor of eating the potstickers while they're still piping hot.

"no, no, no! i'm just not hungry. that's all."

her stomach refutes those words with a loud petulant growl. the speed at which her entire face flushes with embarrassment has to be a new record.

"you sound like you're starving." kalim points out, laughing with mirth. which elicits another low rumble from the offending organ. lou's palms clap against her abdomen in a vain plea for it to quiet down.

"there's more than enough for the three of us - jamil, could you box up some of these for her?"

"please don't, i mean- " she's getting redder, gaze looking anywhere but the two of them. "aaahhh!! it's fine, you don't have to, enjoy the meal for me!!! 'kay, thanks bye!" she bonks against the doorframe of the kitchen before righting herself and speedwalking out of there.

(ofc the automatic declining bites her in the ass. now she really wants siomai with a heaping of soy sauce, calamansi, and chilli garlic oil. paired with a big serving of rice. but, too bad, she's gotta save and make up for grim's her recent splurging.

or: a top 3 list of Lou Tang’s attempts to flee from awkward conversation, according to Jamil Viper (and one extra)

cw: unbeta’d, self-indulgent, and unserious (the holy trinity). more shenanigans than conversations. pre-slash, mutual pining and denial of feelings galore.

3.) The time she forgot she was standing next to a friend.

There wasn’t much conversation material to be found while passing each other in between classes, but idle conversation was a step in some direction.

Never mind that it took several weeks of being acquainted with each other for Lou to stop walking in the opposite direction upon seeing him. Jamil could almost forgive that, thanks to the consequences her single-minded movement would bring her.

While she would forget that she was being accompanied by one of her fellow first-years. Sometimes leaving them behind, shoulder-checking them by accident, and so on. 

But when one is standing next to Jack Howl—and the bigger question here is how can one not be aware of that freshman’s hulking figure?—mindfulness is the deciding factor between a bruised ego and a minor bump.

“Ow, fuck!”

Make that three bruises, rather. 

“Lou?! Your nose—”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it!”

She just charged right into the human-shaped brick wall. Which was a feat, really.

Better to let Jack fuss over her. Jamil, on the other hand, will pretend to not have seen anything.

(It takes him a few days to stop reflexively cracking a smile at the memory.)

2.) The one and only time she just left mid-conversation.

See, Jamil’s used to hearing out-of-pocket shit. He’s used to people having a lowered guard around him, and he more than expects others to keep their cards close to their chest. Blending into the background versus being civil and hospitable, he could easily switch between the two tactics.

It was another thing to see someone waver between guarded and…

(He can’t really use the word ‘relaxed’ to describe Lou Tang. It just doesn’t fit her.)

One minute they were outside of the gym, right when basketball practice wrapped up. Lou was rambling about an Alchemy mishap that affected most of the students in her class, instead of Grim causing an incident out of spite. 

He could empathize.

Try as he might to account for most unpleasant surprises, life had a way of throwing him curveballs that even the most well-trained foresight couldn’t account for. 

So, the chat turned into trading anecdotes—mostly of Lou’s chaotic life as the Ramshackle Prefect, of course. Jamil knew that it was better to be the listening ear, to gently prod the conversation along, to recount a bit of the mishaps he’d faced to fill in the dead air. 

Until she trailed off into silence, thinking so loud he could hear the grind of her mental cogs.

Maybe it was in the sympathetic expression he gave her? Or did she misread a sense of eagerness in his rhetorical question? No, there was no way it was—

“Oh, wow, um. I can’t.” And she turned on her heel, leaving Jamil alone.

Sure, he could’ve called after her and confirmed his guesses for his peace of mind. In that split-second of her turning away, he definitely caught a glimpse of that familiar red flush creeping up the base of her neck.

How flattering, that she could be thoroughly flustered from watching a gesture as minuscule as him tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

(dis)Honorable mention to the time she got bailed out by someone else.

“No buts, Triggerfishie, you remember the agreement.”

“I said weekends. Ends, not days!”

“Then you should have read over the terms carefully, Prefect Lou.”

This had to be calculated, right? No, well-calculated strategies also demanded a sense of finesse in execution.

At least there was something minuscule and plausible to requests from Crowley and the occasional Heartslabyul emergency. Sudden club errands were questionable, considering her only other clubmate was Grim, but alright. Sure, throw in the times she’d get wrangled into playing manager for Savanaclaw’s Spelldrive scrimmages too. Even her flimsy lies at having left behind her textbooks—while clasping them tightly in her arms—Jamil could let all of those past examples slide. 

It’s not his fault that her preferred routes to class were so predictable. How many more incidental chats would push her into scaling the outer walls of the main campus?

Her deer-in-the-headlights gaze meant she had considered the thought more than once.

This, on the other hand, was sloppy.

Irritation, unfiltered and raw, throbbed against Jamil’s temple as he watched Lou get willingly dragged away by the Leech twins, their elbows linked with hers.

But then again, spontaneity was drawn to Lou like a magnet. 

It wasn’t worth the trouble to think about this—whether she was in a contract for the Mostro Lounge, whether she intentionally lets her obligations fall through just to get out of harmless small talk—It was only going to give Jamil a headache.

Let her lie in the bed she made, or whatever.

1.) That time she also brought him along

As much as she lived inside of her head, Lou was eerily sensitive to the moods of others around her. Sure, she preferred to turn the other way in order to preemptively avoid a confrontation. But it was easy to see when her conscience nagged at her, pushed her to intervene in something that wasn’t her business.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” The question spilled out of him, sharp and accusatory.

That third year from Scarabia had been carrying a chip on his shoulder ever since Jamil first entered NRC. His Overblot only emboldened the guy to be upfront about his disdain, to cause a scene in front of more people and further drive Jamil’s reputation into the mud.

Though, the third year probably wasn’t expecting the random freshman carrying a crate full of corrosive Potionology ingredients to interject into the conversation.

“No, but I know when someone’s being an asshole. Who was he?”

It was uncomfortable being on the receiving end of this sudden perceptiveness. “It’s not important. Which classroom?”

“It’s empty.” 

“…what?” The straightforward admission made Jamil stop in his tracks.

“I mean, the box only has my books. I’m bringing it back to the dorm.”

“Oh.” He let her take the box from him. Then, that meant she was aware of what was going on in Scarabia even after winter break had ended. That she…

She was the Prefect. She had to keep tabs on most students, it was a logical reason for being concerned. Anything more was wishful thinking.

“Anyway, I’m going. That guy’s gonna realize I lied and I don’t want to be around for the fallout.” Her ears were turning red as she adjusted her grip on the crate.

“Lou, wait.” 

“I’m going, bye!” She walked faster, not sparing a backwards glance. 

Though her tendency to cut their conversation abruptly was more irksome than endearing, acknowledging that thought would mean admitting he found her company pleasant in the first place. 

Which Jamil didn’t, if that wasn’t clear.

Lou Tang only brought a smidge of entertainment—maybe a rare reprieve, if he was being generous—to his monotonous life. That was all.

on Lou Tang and Romance (vs. crushes vs. love), and LouJami (i guess we callin' their shipname by that naow, i'll still tag it as jamiyuu)

Romance is a staple in Lou’s everyday (at least before she ended up in Twisted Wonderland). Indulgent pocketbooks, early evening telenovelas, a sizable portion of OPM, and so on. Between succumbing to the cynicism of “the real world” or finding joy in romanticizing the little things, she will take the latter (whether she does so wholeheartedly or a reflex, i’ll leave that up to interpretation.)

She falls in (and out of) love easily. She’s fine just yearning from a distance, because it becomes a more stressful thing when you open the conversation on feelings, y’know?

Sure she’s shy in a face-to-face conversation, but talking about the person? vaguely?? even if they’re just a short distance away? Lou can run her mouth on the most inane shit to be attracted to.

“Did you know that there’s a whole video genre of snakes drinking water? I think I finally understand the appeal after sitting in for one of your practices.” “...it’s because he has the surname ‘viper,’ isn’t it?” Ace deadpans. “Yeah, that. But even as untrustworthy as literary snakes are, I cannot keep my eyes off him.” And it seems that the subject of their conversation overhears that short but baffling exchange, water going down the wrong pipe— “Ah, even the parabola of his spit take is beautiful,” Lou remarks quietly to herself with warm cheeks.

Does this count as flirting? In some earnest and eccentric way, maybe? But Lou’s idea of flirting is witty, rapidfire banter (and she doesn’t think she could handle that).

(This was mentioned before but) She will deny that she has a crush on someone. (It’s a great thing that her face has subtitles🥴). Even if said crush tries confronting her about it.

In her mind, it’s fine to keep things one-sided on her end as the pining party.

Denial and abstinence are a staple value in the god-fearing place that Lou hailed from.

(Maybe it has to do with the fact that she cannot comprehend the possibility that her feelings could be reciprocated. At this point, you wouldn’t be wrong to wonder: does Lou have self-image issues? Issues with self-sabotage? And to that I say: Yes, very deeply-ingrained ones that she’d rather not burden people with. Someone please get her help.)

She can bear with being teased. She can bear with being brushed off and rejected. Honest! It’s just a crush, so this all comes with the territory.

(Girlie thinks it’s just a crush. She doesn’t know she’s in danger of her feelings tipping waaaay past that by the time Book 5-6 happens.)

jamil beseeching lou and grim to help scarabia with their "tyrant housewarden" situation. he's pulling out all the stops, he's laying on the overly-generous compliments, he's layering his words with a tone of desperation to tug at her conscience as he relays the backstory that he's painstakingly built up for months.

and the final piece? he takes her hand, looks right into her eyes—

and lou just grimaces, makes a mix between a weirded-out and deeply-concerned look that sends a direct hit to jamil's ego. "...bro what are you doing. i would've helped anyway, this isn't like you."

the most she does is side eye him but she keeps an even tone of voice with the person on the other end of the line. even laughs at what they're saying. keeps the smile plastered onto her face for a bit as she hangs up

then she falls into a semi-fetal position (does this basically👇)