Jian Dui (煎堆)

jian dui (煎堆)

(smoke) tomas vrbada x chef!reader

this is a longer more in-depth fic, completely self indulgent (no one is surprised) this is for all the overthinking thought daughters out there!

mentions of overwork and stress; comfort and fluff fic

4.5k

12 o’clock, midnight. You fight to keep your eyelids open, your grasp on the ratty broom constantly slipping like your will to continue sweeping the floor. There had been some form of celebration in the dinner rush, one of the village elder’s ninetieth birthday if you recall correctly- you could only tell because of the long-life noodle soup and fish orders that piled in your kitchen.

That and the sound of vivacious chatter that rang damp and faded by the time it reached the kitchen, muffled out by the popping of hot oils and staticky songs that eked out your handheld radio. But the service floor was dim and empty now, the lingering smell of leeks and alcohol the only reminder of the hectic rush hours ago.

Seeing as the teahouse had officially closed hours ago, Madam Bo and the servers left long ago- the former only leaving after promises that you wouldn’t stay up too late and would lock everything up properly. Now, you had regretted not letting her stay, the silence and darkness culminating in a rather lethargic and lonely feeling.

Deeming the floor clean of scraps, you set the broom and dustpan to the side and sit yourself down at a large, round table. The exhaustion of working a full day seemed to hit you all at once the moment you hit the chair, a strained sigh leaving your lips. The soft sound echoed throughout the airy building, sending chills down your spine.

You spent many nights at the teahouse, finishing up closing- but usually it was not alone. Oftentimes, it was Madam Bo who accompanied you; with one last pot of tea brewing and ready to greet you once everything was done. The two of you would sit by the entrance, looking at the stars and quietly planning the next day’s quotas. Some nights Raiden and Kung Lao came by, usually by the latter’s plan, eager to annoy you into closing up faster. Raiden would sit at the smallest table, hat hung up neatly with some water while Kung Lao followed your every footstep, criticising for every speck of dust you left in your wake.

He’d pinch your waist, you’d kick him in the shin, and Raiden would laugh. It, ironically, often pushed you back to doing an extra hour of overtime, but the two’s company was more than welcome, even if you pretend like they were burdensome.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the sound of a dog barking. It’s far away enough that the sound doesn’t make you jump in your skin; you rest your head on top of your sprawled out forearm, strands of hair spilling onto the table. It was that time of night, where even the hardest of workers reached their homes and were greeted with dogs barking, warm dinner and naggy housewives. But you were here- at the teahouse, alone and stuck with a pile more chores before you could even think about going home.

Once you did get home, everyone would probably be asleep and the house just as quiet as here. Then you’d leave at dawn, before anyone would have woken up. You turn to bury your nose into the crook of your arm, trying to bury the small feeling of dread that bubbled within you.

You were tired, hadn’t had a day off in three weeks, and honestly couldn’t tell if a nervous breakdown and nervous breakTHROUGH was coming your way. In fact, a server had told you to try and take the next few days off, claiming to be sick or something rather. But if you were sick, who would man the kitchen? You still had that delivery of spices coming tomorrow, but then the meeting with the butcher on Tuesday, and…

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You pinch the nape of your neck, stifling a bitter laugh. Really? The butcher was the straw that broke your back? The laugh turns sour, and you sniff like a child ready to engage in full cry baby mode. But before you can indulge in a well-deserved cry, you catch a shadow in the corner of your eye. Human-shaped, moving at a slow speed.

A thief? You hadn’t had to deal with any thugs in a long time. Your body stiffened as adrenaline filled your arms, holding your breath as you waited for the right time. Maybe this was a sign- and you could take out your frustration with some good old combat. The moment you catch a foreign scent of leather you know the assailant’s close enough to strike, so you lash out first.

Twisting your torso you kick out the chair in front of you, knocking them back as your other leg coils back for a high kick. The trespasser is decidedly male, wearing all black, and in the blur you managed to catch of him, looked to be unarmed. You want to be confident in ending the confrontation soon, but he effortlessly catches your leg before it reaches him, gloved hands against your thigh and throws it down. The movement trajectory just about sends you to the floor but you catch yourself right before your chin collides with the table edge, nails uncomfortably jutting into the wood.

He holds onto the back of your singlet, far too dangerously close to bare skin. Blood rushes to your ears, draining out the distant sound of the man yelling- you barely grab onto your tang jacket that had fallen onto the ground, whipping it behind you. The heavy fabric hits him in the face and has him let go of you to grasp at it, giving you precious time to regain composure and wind back a nasty cross punch. It lands beautifully, backed up with your weeks of unspoked upset, and the man falls flat on his rear, jacket slipping off his body and back to a puddle on the floor.

You stalk forward with all the intent of beating this man to a pulp and asking questions later. But sobriety shocks your limbs like cold water when you see who’s in front of you; straight nose, short silver hair-

“Tomas!” You cry out, dropping to your knees and gripping onto his shoulder. He offers a strained smile, holding onto his neck. “Oh my gods, are you alright? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your words are accompanied by a string of apologies and frantic, fleeting hands ghosting over wherever you thought you’d hit him. Right by his jaw, where you’d landed the punch, had a patchy red mark clear as day even in the midnight darkness. You cringe looking at it; why had you gotten him with your good arm? It would turn puffy and dark by the morning.

“I mean, I did say several things, but I don’t think you were listening.” Tomas peers up at you with wide, unblinking eyes, mouth quirked in a frown.

His words were well-meaning; and you knew that being a part of the Lin Kuei meant that he got throttled around ten times worse for breakfast, lunch and dinner- but the idea that you’d so blindly struck a friend without rationalising the situation left you feeling like an angry, primitive caveman.

Tomas got back on his feet long before you did, his shadow offering a comfortable shade from the world. He offers you a large hand, fingertips just peeking into your field of vision.

“You hit pretty hard for a chef, by the way. What are you fighting in that kitchen?” You groan, letting your forehead unceremoniously clash onto the cold floor. Tomas laughs above you, and you feel him dragging you up to your feet. “Sorry, my bad.” The words come out between the occasional giggle.

You let him sit you down on the very chair that had been launched at him not a minute ago, and he settles for standing in front of you with his arms crossed. How he can laugh so brightly with that bruise on his face, you can only wonder; maybe you ought to take a couple notes when it comes to smiling in the face of adversity. You must’ve sighed again subconsciously, because Tomas shoots you a pointed look, his once full grin mellowed into a half-pulled awkward sort of baulk.

A brief moment of silence passes you both, neither quite sure of what to say. The gape in conversation is emphasised by a hissing wind passing by, uncharacteristically cool for the July temperature. Tomas is looking somewhere directly behind your shoulder in an effort to make eye contact, and you aren’t sure how to react; he had always been the more outgoing, conversational one, and it seemed like his energy whether sheepish or cheerful was contagious.

You crack the knuckle of your ring finger in a moment of habit, and cringe when his eyes dart to the sound with mild alarm.

Tomas, this time with a noticeable amount of surprise, asks you if you’re going to hit him again. You debate your answer, deciding to forgo one entirely for a new question.

“Why are you here? You know our opening hours.” Tomas scratches the back of his neck, standing with his head down like he’s being scolded. Which he wasn’t, for the record. You just happened to have a stern way of speaking, is all. He begins several sentences, always halting and rephrasing himself before any of them could come to completion. And despite the smile on his face, his hands gestures in a way that you knew meant he was uncomfortable; before he can continue, you nod sympathetically. Even without big details, once you heard the words ‘brother’ you had a decent idea of the bigger picture.

Tomas scrunches his nose in a way that is small and meek but genuine, sitting down amicably at the chair you pat the surface of. His pale eyes follow you as you stand up, and before he can ask where you’re going you speak first.

“ I’m coming back, with tea. Want anything else?”

“Don’t trouble yourself for me.”

The sound of grumbling is more honest than his words, evident by the way his cheeks flush. You let out a laugh, a first proper one in what feels like days. He rolls his eyes in an attempt to brush it off, but he looks right back at you with a new purpose- hoping you’d listen to the not-so-subliminal subliminal messages he was sending you. A promise in the form of “i’ll see what i can do” is enough to satiate him (for now), and you’re free to shuffle to the dark kitchen, only able to find your way from the dim glow of moonlight.

As the water boils, you scavenge about for anything that might qualm the bottomless pit that was Tomas’ appetite. Having cooked for him for- how long had you been working as a cook here? Four years? Four years was enough time to know that Tomas, who you lovingly refer to mentally as big-boy, could eat as well as he could fight. There wasn’t much to offer, though. Most of the stock was fresh produce, sauces and grains, though there was a little wrapped bamboo steamer nestled in the corner behind some baskets.

You sigh, gingerly pulling it out. Raiden had gifted them to you, from this morning, homemade sesame balls made by his mother or grandmother- the maker not as important as how delicious they were as a sweet you fell in love with, even back when you had them for the first time at ten years old. The original plan was to eat them hot during the mid-afternoon lull, but you had been so busy the entire day they’d been neglected and turned cold. Well, now was as good a time as any, you guessed.

Once the water boiled you prepared two large mugs of… passable tea (you were a chef, not a server) and balanced it carefully along with the bamboo steamer. You only almost dropped the ensemble twice, which all things considered was pretty impressive; even if Tomas’ gleeful snickering made you feel like it was your first day on the job.

Speaking of which, from the moment you exited the kitchen, the man had been observing you like a wide-eyed owl, knees tucked to his chest and two very capable arms hanging by his sides, neither of which made the smallest move to assist you. He watches you set the mugs and steamer on the table, having the nerve to ask where the teapot was if you were going to drink tea.

“No fancy service after hours. Be thankful I didn’t just throw the leaves into lukewarm water.” Tomas snorts at your very real threat, and you let him think you were just joking.

You take a sip of the tea while he enthusiastically blows on him more times than necessary, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to see if he’d gotten a reaction out of you. It earns a shake of your head, but you find yourself smiling behind the lip of your mug.

He was trying to lighten the mood. Even after you’d been the one to deck him in the face- though to be fair he had snuck up on you. As a repayment of kindness, you nudge the steamer he’d been eyeing over to him. It’s comical, the way the mere thought of a snack could make his face light up.

“As payment for rocking your shit.” He scoffs at your statement.

“I’ll have you know I let you ‘rock my’- Ooohhh, these look good. Are they jian dui? Do you have chopsticks?”

You laugh at how he eagerly rubs his hands together, even harder when you pass him the chopsticks you keep in your apron only to find him wrist-deep in the bamboo steamer pulling out two sesame balls. He lets out an incredulous sounding ‘What?’ before indulging himself in a hearty bite, eating the entire sweet in one fell swoop. The second one, squeezed between his middle and ring finger, is demolished right after he swallows the first bite. The only sound that comes from him is a content hum of appreciation, and then a muffled, food-filled offer of one the sweets; where you take out a single ball.

With an amused huff you lean back in the chair, satisfied for now to watch Tomas eat so passionately. Seeing the way his previously tense face melt into genuine happiness was the kind of reaction every chef loved to see; it was also a reaction he gave you whenever he ate your food as well. It was probably why Tomas was one of your favourite people to cook for- you could even look past his shady Lin Kuei business and strange affinity with smoke bombs.

In between wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking a drink from his mug, Tomas asks you a very loaded question in a manner only describable as unceremonious.

“By the way, are you okay? You looked upset when I came in. ”

The question stunlocks you into speechlessness, and your change in posture was enough for him to flinch in his seat, quickly apologising if he had been insensitive. He hadn’t been, you make sure to tell him that, but you just weren’t really used to people asking you for a change. You stare lamely at your still untouched sesame ball, trying to find the right words.

This wasn’t the first time you’d try to talk about your feelings- but you never wanted to burden your family or Madam Bo, and god knows that seriously talking about things with Kung Lao would just feel… weird.

“I think…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m tired? Not from work, I can do that fine; but- maybe it is work, and I’m lying to myself- I don’t know, I’m not making sense and it’s just complaining, probably.”

Tomas props his cheek against the palm of his hand.

“Sometimes after training I cry.”

The sentence, as much as it shocks you into sitting straight, comes out of Tomas like it’s nothing. Your face must’ve looked obviously surprised, because he offers you a half-shrug.

“Not everyday, just when it gets hard. But I never know which part of it is making me miserable, so I end up crying like a kid in my room.”

You look at him wordlessly, trying to find a response. He apologises again, saying he wasn’t the best at comforting people. And you understand- it must be hard, especially when his two older brothers aren’t exactly the role model of loving communication. But despite the blunt phrasing of it all, Tomas’ words helped you feel a little better. Knowing that someone with a lifestyle as different as yours, and one where he had to be tougher than you did, that he also felt the same way made you feel much less alone. You put your sesame ball back in the steamer and roll it amongst the sparse remaining ones.

“I stuck my head in the icebox this afternoon so I didn’t freak out. Madam Bo came in to rush an order, and I got so scared the lid closed on me.”

You still remember the nauseating smell of chilled meat that permeated the ice box, a scent that didn’t leave your hair for hours afterwards. Tomas laughs when you share that, and mentions how Bi Han does something vaguely similar with his ice affinities; it’s a strange image that you have trouble believing. He seems to have an equal anecdote to share for everything you tell him, which both helps you feel less ostracised for your more vulnerable moments and tells you a little more about the enigmatic character that is Tomas. You both talk idly until the mugs of tea had run dry, which seemed to give Tomas the encouragement to speak up,

“My brothers and I were in the area to meet Madam Bo, for a meeting, but I’m not sure what kind of business they had with her.” You raise your eyebrows at the change in his tone; a little more quiet and forlorn; and asking him why he wasn’t in the know only made his shoulders sag further down. “They don’t… tell me about these details. I just know when to show up and what to do.”

Tomas had always walked shoulder to shoulder with Bi Han and Kuai Liang, so for him to say that was a surprise. “I asked too many questions, and it pissed Bi Han off- you know how he is. He went on another one of his… tangents. I didn’t want to hear it, so I left, and came here.”

By the end of it he’s half-speaking and half chewing on the already raw nails of his thumb. He sounds incredibly downtrodden, but in a way where he’d been acquainted with the feeling for a while now; and even gives you the same half-hearted smile you give Madam Bo when she asks you about how you are. Bi Han’s ‘tangents’ weren’t too familiar to you, but you’d heard him angry once. Of course behind the safety of the kitchen walls you were safer than the two brothers actually speaking to him, but the boom of his voice still made you want to duck for cover. If you remembered correctly, he had slipped out something about Tomas not really being his brother- something of the likes. With how much Tomas admired him, you could only imagine how much that would hurt.

Gingerly, you pat his other hand, one that’d been fidgeting splayed out on the table. He takes your thumb, squeezing it in return. You study his hand, faded scars littering where his gloves could not cover. They vary from white to angry red, and there’s one on the joint of his thumb that’s circular, similar to an old oil burn below your knuckle.

“We match!” Tomas seems suddenly overjoyed at the mundane discovery, bringing your smaller hand closer to him and looking over it with much precision. He even puts your hands side by side, smiling to himself when he sees that they really do line up. The warm sight is doing something to your already fragile heart, seeing him handling you so delicately- an experience you’ve missed from anyone in god knows how long; you begin to feel your throat clog up.

He looks up at you, and instead of frantically apologising again, or trying to prevent it, he just takes your hand in both of his, soothingly running his thumbs along your fingers.

And just like that, months of emotional suppression goes down the drain.

When the waterworks finally do turn on, you feel utterly embarrassed to be crying in the presence of a Lin Kuei member, even if he was patient in letting you pathetically gather up your thoughts in snotty blubbering nonsense. You tell him everything- or at least as well as much as you can without making yourself cry harder. Tomas doesn’t say much, only nodding and periodically affirming you when you make the odd negative comment about yourself. Right when you’re coming down from the bulk of emotional distress, you make the mistake of mentioning how upset you were that as a chef, you often went hungry and forgot to eat in favour of work. ‘

By the end of the thought you’re up and ready for another bout of tears until Tomas picks up one of the last sesame balls and feeds it to you. Well, it was more an involuntary feeding- the kind that you did to zoo animals like giraffes or gazelles, but the strange scenario of being hand fed a cold sesame ball is enough to stop the tsunami wave. You tearfully eat the sweet like a child, and everything seems to calm down until you accidentally bite Tomas’ hand and he mentions how even though you were hungry, you couldn’t eat him as well. You knew it was a light-hearted joke, but for some reason, it makes you cry again. He picks up the last one, having the gall wave it in front of you like a parent feeding their child mashed peas; it’s effective in ceasing your tears, but the offence you take from the action takes over an equal amount.

You smack his hand away too hard by accident, sending it tumbling onto the floor and under the table. You yelp, and Tomas immediately ducks to try and pick it up, hitting his head on the table’s underside.

A series of ‘ow, ow, ow, ow’ emits from him like a mantra as he slides off the chair onto the floor, clutching his head for dear life. You burst into watery laughter that grows in strength as he turns to side eye you from his awkward position.

“Are they really that good?” Is a rhetorical question from you because- yes they were- but it’s one you ask to chide the silver haired man. He groans in response, ungracefully slumped over to a cross legged position, still scratching his patch of hair like he’s expecting a miraculous bald spot to have formed. “Don’t… even. Bullying me from the high ground.” he mutters.

You then join him on the floor, knees bumping as you get yourself comfortable. Tomas scuttles momentarily before he turns over with the sesame ball, successfully retrieved, delicately held between two fingers. He blows on it once to get all the dust off, then presents it square in front of your face; you roll your eyes and make a show of blowing air on it like it’s a pinwheel.

“Good as new!”

“You are ridiculous.”

Tomas sticks out his bottom lip and shrugs, and you find yourself feeling somewhat lucky to catch such a candid and free side of him tonight. You both split the last sesame ball and eat it under the table with the secrecy of children sneaking halloween sweets after bedtime, and you giggle when a dollop of the filling drops off of his half and splats right onto his shoe. He shushes you when you snort by accident, as if there were metaphorical adults downstairs ready to catch you red handed. It’s only half way through the motion he notices his own ridiculousness and relents, joining you in the delight of it all.

Once the two of you wipe your hands, finally finished with all the sweets, you stare at the sky above you. Craning your neck to see it under the table, it looks different than it usually does- more daunting, mysterious, like it felt stargazing as a child. You’re not sure what mood overtakes you, but you lean to rest your head on Tomas’ shoulder, cheek squished against the fabric of his Lin Kuei uniform. It’s promptly followed by the feeling of him mirroring your actions on the top of your head. He radiates more body heat than you’re used to- and in the summer heat it borders on being clammy, but the feeling of his shoulders rising and falling is one that so perfectly cures your recent lack of simple human touch.

You stay like this for a while, not moving much aside from Tomas occasionally nuzzling into you for a more comfortable position. He suddenly speaks.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“...Sorry for punching you in the face.”

“Apology not accepted.”

His voice is soft and cheeky- his usual tone. You elbow him sharply, and he doesn’t even budge. Soon, drowsiness overtakes you, the adrenaline from before melting behind the exhaustion of your work day. You let your eyes close, settling into the crook of Tomas’ neck with the intent of only resting your eyes for the time being. He huffs airly in response, sounding half-asleep himself. It’s incredibly peaceful- in a way that you haven’t felt since sneaking naps during a family reunion; and what was meant to be quiet relaxation turned into the best sleep you’d had in months.

You wake up at the crack of dawn, to the feeling of Tomas being dragged out from under the table. He lets out a string of complaints and frantic this and that, begging the other person for mercy. The other person, as it turned out, was Madam Bo, coming in to open the teahouse. You watch in groggy amusement as he’s whacked in the head with the broom you left by the table last night; as the elderly woman goes on about Tomas being a stupid boy, and for him to leave her precious cook alone.

Before he’s shooed away, he gives you a closed-eye smile and wave, telling you to have a good day at work. You barely have time to raise a hand in acknowledgement before it’s your turn to be dragged out by Madam Bo, thankfully with no broom this time.

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mortal kombat mk1 tomas vrbada mk1 x reader tomas vrbada x reader smoke x reader mk1 smoke

Surprised

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twisted wonderland twst disney twst twst mc malleus draconia twst oc twisted wonderland oc AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i love this so much if you can't tell

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cece-flii

6 months ago

I don’t know if I can contain my “The Muppet Christmas Carol has better costume design than most Oscar-nominated period dramas” rant until after Thanksgiving you guys, I have…so many Thoughts

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cece-flii

2 years ago

more tumblr sexyman poll buttons!!

please reblog if saving!!

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bill cipher reigen arataka sans nagito komaeda tumblr sexyman cecil gershwin palmer jack skellington wheatley portal 2 Tumblr sexyman poll tony the clock sexyman poll

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cece-flii

2 years ago

So I had an idea, what if reader was the magicless student and didn't feel like going home because they knew they were dead in their old world?

So one day a friend asks, "What do you think you'd do if you got back home?"

And reader just replies nonchalantly with a straight face with, "Probably lie in a coffin six feet under."

The friend thinks they are joking but little do they know...

Could it be with Ace and whoever else you'd think best fit the scenario? Thanks! <3

Hello anon! Sorry this literally took forever (-ω-、) At first I had a hard time trying to figure out how to put it all together and who to do lmao I think I ended up doing pretty good, if I do say so myself (maybe a little bit overboard as it went on, though? Like the request looks like it's supposed to at least be a little bit funny but my brain says 'haha sad reader go brrr') Either way, I hope that you enjoy, darling <333

~ "I'm probably never going back." With Ace, Kalim, and Grim ~

[Angst to fluff, Platonic Grim, Gn! reader]

So I Had An Idea, What If Reader Was The Magicless Student And Didn't Feel Like Going Home Because They

Ace

"So," Ace started, munching on his sandwich, "What d'ya go to the Headmaster for this time? You get stuck with another random job again?" he asks with a sinister innocent smile on his face as he eyes your own lunch.

"Actually, we were discussing the prospects of me going home," you stated nonchalantly, casually sliding your plate of food closer to yourself, knowing full well that Ace really only started this conversation to get you distracted so that he could get at your cherry pie (which the chefs had made specifically for you, as a thanks for helping keep the fireplaces warm over winter break).

Now, while you had certainly noticed that Ace was after your food (you were used to it already, after dealing with Grim after all of this time), you had failed to notice the way that Ace's smile fell off of his face for the faintest moment after he heard the words 'home' leaving your mouth, but he was quick to regain his notorious smile before you could see his disappointment. And in an act to tease you a bit (and to rid himself of the unknown feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach), he brazenly chuckles and states without thinking,

"Ha, I bet that old man probably told you to give it up. Like, what would you even do if you got back home?" Without a second beat you tell him with a straight face,

"I'd probably just be six-feet under."

"Right?" Ace agrees with a hearty chuckle. And he sees that you still for a second, lowering your head and taking a deep breath for a moment. In that quick moment of you losing concentration, Ace swipes the last remaining bite of your cherry pie with a cheeky smirk.

"So that's why I'm probably never going back," you clear your throat and look at Ace with a sad smile, tears brimming your eyes. And suddenly, Ace feels really, really guilty. He was just trying to lighten the mood by joking with you...about going home...

Ugh, how could he have messed this up, worse? It's impossible, I tell you! Ace knows that you've just been suddenly thrust into a world that you know nothing about, forced to attend a school where you barely even meet the minimum for the curriculum, and, to make matters even better for you, you're basically forced into doing whatever that Headmaster of the school tells you to, simply because he was just kind enough to let you stay at the school since you hadn't even a penny to your name nor your nonexistent family in this world.

Not only that, but you're also the prefect of this new dorm without any magic at all, and you're supposed to keep an eye on this random cat that nearly ruined the Orientation ceremony. And! You've also got to handle both him and Deuce, also known as the chaos duo to everyone who knows them. And he just stole the last piece of your cherry pie, which was honestly something that you more than deserve after all the shit that you've gone through. We all know that you weren't crying because of him stealing your pie, but this fact really was just the cherry on top of his sundae of regret.

So yeah, just label him as Dumbass #1 in your book, if he isn't already.

And he's not sure why he was surprised to see those tears in your eyes, but he was, and he's ashamed at the fact that he's never noticed how you've felt before. So in a frantic motion to fix things, Ace stands up quickly, saying a quick excuse to you about accidentally leaving something in his last class or something, and excusing himself from the lunch table before you could even react.

You honestly didn't know where he went after he left you at lunch, because he wasn't in any of his classes for the remainder of the day. It was only after classes, as you were walking back to Ramshackle with Grim, that you saw him next. He was standing in front of your front door with a nervous look on his face, but he was dressed quite nicely. Not quite formal attire, but it looked like he was expecting to go somewhere, at the very least. Once he saw you approaching, his face brightened for a moment, with a slight blush cropping up on his cheeks as you ask him what he's been doing all day.

"Well," he starts with a chuckle and his infamous smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I got permission from the Headmaster for us to leave campus for a while, so why don't we go check out some stores at the village nearby? I thought that maybe I'd show you around, since you'd probably beg me to keep you from getting lost anyway... Oh, and don't worry about paying for anything, I have it allll covered." He says that last part with extra emphasis and a more confident smile than before, hoping that that would be the ticket to getting you to agree. Little did he know, you were going to agree even if he wasn't going to buy you anything. And little did you know that one of the biggest reasons why he's decided to do all of this can be explained through one simple sentence: 'I want you to start liking this world more than your own.'

In truth, he'd struck a deal with Azul again in exchange for enough cash to buy whatever you wanted from any store (he's got a lot of work cut out for him in the upcoming future), but shh, you didn't need to know that. It would be all worth it if it means that you can get a chance at starting a normal life here...

And perhaps, maybe one day you might want to start living your new life with him by your side.

Kalim

Oh, Kalim. This epitome of sunshine was sharing everything about his family, his childhood, and his homeland to you with so much enthusiasm that you felt yourself feeling the twang of homesickness starting to erupt in your heart. But of course, this always happens with Kalim, doesn't it? First, he hurt the one who he's always adored as a brother- Jamil, and now, he's hurting you too, all without realizing it. You could never blame him for it, though. His genuine happiness and warmth was something that you looked forward to every day, and most of the time just being around him felt like you were basking in the sun on a cold day.

But, sometimes the warmth that he radiates so fervently starts to feel like too much, as if you were being scorched alive under the unbearable heat of the sun.

"So," Kalim says, taking a moment to catch his breath, "I think that's all of my brothers and sisters, plus all of my extended family too! We're a big family, so I know it's a lot, haha! Say, what's your family like?" he innocently asks with bright, expectant eyes.

And you know that he doesn't mean to do this to you, but you can't deny that right now you felt like his beautiful red eyes were burning themselves into your soul like a branding iron. You don't want to make it sound like you blame him for your predicament or his enthusiasm about his family, so you give him the best smile you can muster and divert the subject to the best of your ability.

"Well, they're really not as important as yours is. Can you tell me more about how the Asim family started out? Your family must have a lot of really interesting history."

"Oh, sure!" Kalim nods happily to your request, forgetting his own question shortly after as he continues in his own rant about his gigantic family and some of the more interesting parts of its history.

At this point, Jamil really couldn't bear to listen to this anymore. He's been quietly watching and listening in on your conversation with Kalim from his seat in the corner of the room, where he was supposed to be 'studying'. Jamil sees that Kalim's doing the same thing to you as what happened to him, and decides to step into your conversation. 'Might as well go ahead and rip the band-aid off before it gets to the point of no return,' Jamil thinks.

"Hey," he begins, cutting Kalim off mid-sentence, "Do you have any sort of plans for when you get to go home? If you can go home?"

And Kalim looks at you with a surprised look on his face at Jamil's question for you because of course you'd want to stay here in Twisted Wonderland with him and everyone else! He'd never thought of the idea that you'd ever want to go back home to your original world, Kalim felt like it was just a given that you'd want to stay even if you had the choice to leave. But now that he thinks about it a little more, he doesn't understand where he even got that idea from to begin with. After all, as someone who cares for his family and his homeland a great deal, he can kindof understand how you might feel after being torn away from all of that without any way of returning.

"Haha, well," you chuckle heartlessly, "I'm probably never going back anyway. I think if I went back home now I'd just be six-feet under or something." Your attempt to lighten the mood with your 'joke' fails when you hear the sound of your own voice saying it. You would be lying to yourself if you tried to claim that, no, your voice wasn't shaky, and that yes, you were completely fine with never seeing your family ever again. Jamil makes a comment that he was going to grab something to drink from the kitchen, leaving you in a moment of silence with Kalim following your rather dark 'joke.'

"Well, what's the harm in trying anyway?" Kalim asks softly, "You never know unless you try! Plus, even if it doesn't work out, at least you can say that you've given it your all, right?"

"That's the FUCKING problem," you snap, "I've BEEN trying to go back home, and nothing's ever working! And there's no way in hell I'm just going to give up and go ~'Well at least I tried'~ when it's my goddamn LIFE on the line here!"

Oh no, you didn't mean to start yelling at Kalim like that... But after hearing his flippant "at least you've given you're all" comment, all of the pent-up emotions just felt like they were going to explode if they were kept inside any longer. You feel bad for suddenly yelling at him, but at the same time, it felt like the water gates have finally opened, and before you knew it, more kept spilling from your mouth.

"I had a normal life back in my world, you know! I had people who cared for me, I had plans for the future that I painstakingly paved the road for for my entire fucking life. Everything that I've done in my life up to this point, it's all become utterly useless now that I've come here," you wailed, tears escaping your eyes as you spoke without constraint, "Can you imagine how it feels to have everything stolen away from you, Kalim? All of the people that I've created my childhood memories with, they're all gone! My scholarships, my college applications, my work experience- nonexistent! Hell, if you want to get into the legalities of it, I technically have never gone to school in my life before attending NRC because I never existed in this world before then." You take a breath to help calm yourself down, but after still feeling the flames of rage bubbling in your lungs, you continue to vent out your feelings.

"Do you know how it feels, Kalim, to have no idea whether the people you love know if you're dead or alive? To have to think about how they would react to my 'death' when I'm still kicking and screaming inside another world?! To have to think about everything that you've been forced to leave behind all of a sudden?" You're basically screaming out your frustrations to the sky now, as you couldn't bear to stare at Kalim as you cried out your miseries, "To have to think about the life you could be leading right now if you weren't dragged to some random world with no knowledge about it's countries, it's history, or even it's most fundamental principles like magic?"

Kalim's staring at you intensely, taking every single word you speak into account. Even as you got to the point where you couldn't speak clearly anymore, when you pushed yourself to where all you could do was sob, snivel, and blubber out your words of woe, Kalim sat there listening to you the whole way through.

At some point during your crying, Kalim pulled you gently into his arms in a tight embrace as he let you continue to let your feelings out. He was going to wait until it was all out before he even tried to say anything (reason one being, because it would be rather rude to interrupt you, and two is because he's been rather notorious for crying when he sees other people cry and he didn't want to make the crying spotlight on him)

When you were finally done, Kalim patted your head soothingly and spoke quietly. His own voice was shaky too, and he was also on the verge of tears just from watching and listening to you.

"I never knew you felt like that, I'm sorry for not realizing it earlier," he says, and just the sound of him trying to keep in his tears breaks your heart to pieces.

Your pain is his pain, your tears are his tears, and your smile is his smile because, even if he doesn't realize it yet, he truly loves you dearly. Kalim knows he can be really, really dense most of the time, which is why he never noticed these pent-up frustrations of yours when they were so obvious to Jamil, but he hopes that you'll forgive him for making you feel even worse.

"It's not your fault, Kalim. I'm not angry at you or anything- I'm sorry for yelling like that," you inhale, "It's just-... It just hurts, you know? Thinking about all of the what-ifs and the could-be's... But the truth is, I've had more fun in the short time that I've been here than in my entire life back home. And most of that's because of you, actually."

"Really?" he asks, a spark of his normal cheer returning to his voice.

"Yes, really. I might not be able to use magic, but it's been something that I've loved learning about since coming here. You know, the very first time you took me on a ride with the magic carpet, and I got to see this whole new world from way high up in the sky, I knew that nothing from my home could beat that experience. I'm going to miss my home, but it's not so bad when I know that you're here."

Oh, look at you- you were the one who just had an emotional breakdown right in front of Kalim, and yet you're the one consoling him! Your sweet words struck through his heart like cupid's arrow, and he internally vows that he will always be someone who brings a smile to your face- that he will do everything that he can to make sure that you're happy.

"Then," he perks up, wiping his face from any stray tears that might have escaped from earlier, "Let's go on another carpet ride together, outside of campus!" He exclaims excitedly, all hints of previous sadness gone from his eyes and voice.

"There's so many places I want to show you, but I think we should look for spots that look like your home! This world is a pretty big place, so I'm sure there must be somewhere that looks similar to yours. Tell me everything about your homeland- If we can't find something like it, then we'll just have to make it ourselves!"

Grim

It was in the midst of winter break that you started to feel more lonely. All of your other friends were gone and spending the holidays with their families, while you were still here at the school with your only company being Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, who would come and go as they pleased. Everything was just so,, quiet, without the chaos duo Deuce and Ace around. Of course, Grim was almost always up to his own little shenanigans too, but most of the time they were harmless and it was just him entertaining himself with catching mice and such.

The silence of the winter break and the bleakness of the white snow was staring to take a toll on you, and it wasn't helping the fact that you're still experiencing nightmares beyond what you see in the mirror at night (this is not a jab at you, I swear).

For reference, you just had a dream that woke you up in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping for air as you tried to recollect yourself. Of course, you couldn't fall back asleep after what you've just seen, and Grim was still sound asleep in his corner of the bed. Quietly, you move to get up to go get some fresh air outside- not forgetting to bring your jacket with you to the freezing cold weather out there.

And you spent a bit of time in the silence of the night, sitting on the stairs of the front porch of the Ramshackle dorm with a heavy jacket tied to your shoulders, just staring up into the sky. This isn't the first time that this has happened, so you know that looking at the stars would usually help you out in times like these.

'I can see the stars so clearly from here. Back home, the stars would be so dim that most nights you could hardly see them because of all of the lights around.'

'Huh, I wonder what kind of constellations this world has thought up of. That kinda looks almost like a horse, if you look at it sideways.'

'I wonder what kind of galaxy this world is in. The Milky Way was nice and all, but something different could be nice, too.'

Those would be the kind of thoughts that would help calm you down after your nightmares and you'd start feeling sleepy again. You'd go back inside, maybe drink a little bit of water, and then delve underneath the covers of your bed and go to back to sleep.

But this time, though, you could hardly focus on anything else except for the contents of your dream. No matter how intently you stared into the night sky, there was nothing else that you could think of other than, 'It was just so realistic.'

"Hey, hench-human! There you are! 'Was wonderin' where ya went so late at night. Come back in already, you let the fireplace in the room die out and now the whole room's gone cold again," you hear Grim calling out to you from the now open door of the Ramshackle dorm.

"Sorry Grim, I'll be back inside in just a bit, just gimmie a minute, alright?"

"What? You're just gonna sit outside in this cold?" Grim exclaims, "What are ya even doing out here anyway?" And you hear Grim's paws tapping on the old wooden flooring as he scampers his way to you.

"Couldn't sleep, so I went out for some fresh air, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Had another dream about the Great Seven? Or was it that Mickey dude in the mirror again?" He pushes your arms away from your legs and jumps into your lap without another thought. If he was going to wait for you to get up and relight the fireplace, he was at least going to wait somewhere that's nice and warm- your lap.

"Actually," you clear your throat, "not this time, no."

"Then what's up?" And he just said it so casually, like either he knew that something was bothering you and he wanted to make the conversation comfortable enough to talk about it- that or he's just completely unable to read a room (which was honestly the more likely option). Either way, it made you pause for a moment, to think about whether you wanted to answer his question honestly or make up some sort of lie about it.

"I'm thinking about whether I should just go ahead and tell Crowley to give up on looking for my way back home," you admit, deciding on telling him half-truths for now. But your comment caught him off guard, and he looks back at you with surprise. "Huh, why would ya do that?" he asks.

"Well, I mean I'd probably just be lying six feet under if I do manage to go back, so what's the point in having Crowley waste his time on this? Besides, he's been using it as an excuse to make me us do all of his dirty work for him, and I don't want to be indebted to him anymore than I already am."

"Well, I guess that does make sense, but still, haven't you been wantin' to go home this whole time? What's with you givin' up now?" he grumbles.

"Awe, I had no idea that you hated me this much," you joke, "To think, that even my closest friend even wants me gone from this world! Oh, woe is me!"

"Hey, you know it ain't like that, henchman!" Grim pushes you playfully, "I'll have you know that, unlike SOME people, I care about my minions. If ya wanna go home, then you should keep tryin' to find a way back, especially if there's someone else doin' all the work for you."

"That's sweet of you to say, but I'm probably never going back."

"What makes you so sure?" And you don't say anything to his question, not for a while. Grim notices your silence and concludes his statement, "Well, if that's what you want, then alright. It just means that you'll be here to see me become the greatest mage in the world!"

"Mhm," you nod sluggishly, and the conversation goes quiet from there. Now, the heavy silence of the winter night fell upon the both of you, the only sounds being the creaking of the old wooden planks of the Ramshackle dorm, the frostbitten wind blowing through the air, and the soft shuffling of you petting through Grim's fur as he sits idly in your lap. The silence didn't bother either of you much, as Grim was nearly falling back to sleep with the soft movements of your hands brushing him and the warmth from your lap keeping the cold at bay. But as time continued to pass, your anxious thoughts started clouding the deep recesses of your mind once again and you felt compelled to speak upon them.

"Grim, I know that you're a monster and everything, but do you know anything about reading a human's pulse?" you speak suddenly, and he flinches awake at your question, rubbing his eyes tiredly as you continue without letting him answer, "You can find your heart rate just by pressing on your wrist, or placing these fingers against your neck, like this." And you demonstrated both actions to him.

"Grim,, I," your voice chokes up, "I can't feel my pulse... Earlier I had another nightmare, and I saw myself dying. In my world... It was so realistic, I..." Tears start erupting from your eyes as you recall the vivid memory, and Grim stares at you with wide eyes as you continue, "When I woke up, I felt like I could still feel the pain. It was so excruciating, I felt like I was going to throw up, so I came out here."

Your body was shivering uncontrollably with how you were trying to keep your tears in as you spoke, and you pull Grim closer to you in a hug close to your chest, "Grim, please tell me. Do you hear anything? Anything at all? Even if you lie to me, please just tell me that you can hear my heartbeat."

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

"I can hear it," Grim states seriously (I mean, after seeing the state you're in, it would be more than a little rude if he wasn't serious), "And I'm not lyin' to ya. It's super cold out here, which is probably why ya can't feel it, but you do have a heartbeat. I promise you, you're alive, right here, with me." He wasn't expecting this, but he tries his best to comfort you, though really he has no idea about what to do or what to say. But as awkward as his words come out as, it still works to help you calm down after a while. He waits until your breathing starts to slow down and your tears have stopped spilling.

"Henchman, I'm startin' to feel hungry for a midnight snack," he states, "I know you're hungry too, so let's go sneak into the cafeteria and see what they've got!" And he leaps off of your lap and looks at you with his bright blue eyes, "We can warm up by its fireplace while we're there too."

As he starts dragging you towards the school, he turns to look at you and he says, "The way I see it, the way you still get hungry or thirsty is how we know that you're still alive. You wouldn't need to eat or sleep if you were dead, like the ghosts, now would'ya? You really need to stop overthinking things like this, givin' me a heart attack when you start cryin' outta nowhere like that..."

~~~~~~

I accidentally wrote a whole mini-story for them, no wonder this request took so long </33 I really hope that you enjoyed reading this, anon! While I did have trouble at the beginning, things started falling into place as I kept writing 👏👏

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cece-flii

8 months ago