#notebook kin

[polle-express]

Izuku Midoriya stimboard for Anon

1 • 2 • 3 4 •🪴• 6 7 • 8 • 9 div.

With no specified themes

[despair-edits]

Tsumugi Shirogane: Stimboard

With fashion, cosplay and writing stims

For me

x / x / x | x / x / x | x / x / x

- Mod Peko

[dollarstore-kins]

Tiny Notebook/TN icons requested by @sp1dercandle !!

-Mod ET

[ryutarotakedown]

pretending to be rei membami is unironically helping me get through homework right now

[dogtistic-swag]

*stares at you with my eyes*

(i think you've already drawn my ideal/nonhuman body)

alright you lovable scamp, here's your art

[sirencozycove]

─ injecting Lila Rossi with the autism blam. She's so me.┆ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘

[huntingcupid]

MULTO — J.Y

hindi na na-nanaginip hindi na ma-makagising pasindi na ng ilaw minumulto na 'ko ng damdamin ko ng damdamin ko 'di mo ba ako lilisanin? hindi pa ba sapat pagpapahirap sa 'kin?

⌗ YOONCHAE — fem!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, exes, crying, long distance relationship, lovers to strangers, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — 2 years had passed yet even as you see her succeeding you can't help but feel a twinge of sorrow, missing what you two used to be, what you could've been

⌗ CUPID — hihi multo means ghost by the way its a filipino song by cup of joe, its meaning is dealing with a person ypu loved dissappearing/growing distant, and how their presence haunts you, aka missing them

the café was quiet only the hum of the soft music playing from the TV was audible and the soft clicking of keyboards, you had chose this place to study

you weren't one to go to public places to read nor learn you preferred the comfort of your dorm yet for once maybe you wanted a challenge, it smelled heavenly in here as well and unlike other cafés whom have bitter or oversweet tasting matcha they had a pretty good one a perfect balance if you do say so yourself

after typing in the last few words of your essay, you stretched and unexpectedly looked at the tv, It was playing random kpop and western music, but somehow katseye was playing the song “touch” — you stared at it for a bit, and seeing yoonchae was something you didn’t want to do

yoonchae and you were highschool sweethearts, the two quiet nerdy girls in the back of the class giggling over stupid jokes and making silly doodles on each others notebooks — it all changed when yoonchae told you about her auditioning to a company named hybe

“wait, does that mean you're gonna leave me?” you murmur, you two sat in front of a convenience store sipping on hot instant ramen — “i- uhm i don't know y/n — but I'm not accepted yet! we can still stay together” yoonchae says trying to brighten up the mood her hands covering yours as she rubs her thumb across your palm

you nod, yet deep down you knew she already got accepted, yoonchae dreamed about being an idol, she would yap to you for hours on end, showing fancams of her favorite groups — smiling stupidly when seeing girls her age debuting

“yoon, you know I'll support you right? — it's okay if you leave it's for your dreams anyway” you mutter back looking into the youngers eyes seeing a hint of hesitation, you knew how much she loved you, how much she cared about you — you cared the same way, so if that meant letting her go you would do it with no problem, “but, i-” the Korean tried reasoning before you shake your head just smiling softly at her

“yoon, it's alright — if you need me I'm only one call away” you replied, at that moment yoonchaes shoulders weren't tense anymore and she looked rather calmer — “i love you” she says shyly blushing lightly, “i love you more dummy” you giggle

that month yoonchae started packing and buying random things to bring, sending random letters to her other friends and distant family — she started missing school and deleting her posts on social media which you knew was needed but some of the post was your memories with her,

"사랑 (love) i have to go tomorrow, can you help me get to the airport?” yoonchae asks over the phone — you smile to yourself but a twinge of sadness started spreading in you, “yes of course darling” you replied, yoonchae then talks about the place she was going to and how different it looked until you two fell asleep while on call

the morning of the youngers flight you wait outside her house, seeing her walk out with her life in two huge bags was something that definitely hurt and made you proud — she's growing up so quickly, you felt tears fall to your cheeks and immediately yoonchae comes running to you, “are you crying?, baby don't cry!” yoonchae murmurs hugging you tightly

her head on your shoulders as you let her vanilla perfume invade your senses — “mhm, I'm just happy seeing you be brave and grow so fast” you mutter back, her mom hugs you two and smile softly — the drive was short yet with yoonchaes hand over yours it felt like forever, you'd often steal glances at her seeing how happy she looked and excited she was made you the happiest woman ever

the car parked near the entrance and you helped the younger bring her bags in, it felt like time was moving so quickly

yoonchae started crying as she hugs her family and finally you, she murmurs a bunch of things talking about how nervous and worried she is yet you reassured her – it felt unreal that she was leaving alone, and you didn't want to cry, you didn't want to make her feel worse, so you smile through it and just waved her off

that very night you sobbed into your pillows already missing the girl, missing her hug, her jokes and her voice — you went through you favorite albums in your gallery, pictures of you two or just her — drawing, dancing, singing or going to the park

the first week you two learned how to get over the time difference and with her busy schedule, the second week you stopped calling reasoning that she needed to focus on her training, the third you two mutually agreed to stop talking — it hurt yet you knew it was for the best,

"its for the best right?" yoonchae asks almost hesistant her voice small and fragile, "it is yoonie, i love you okay?" you mutter back tears flowing to your face, yoonchae murmurs an i love you back before the call ended, the very last call you two had

you'd silently support her, voting for her every mission even making a fan account, when she debuted it felt like you also got your dream come true, after her debut you stopped watching her content and started focusing on yourself, studying and studying

you'd often stumble across old pictures and your texts with yoonchae and reminisce about what you two were, your classmates would ask if you two were still talking, you'll dodge the question and try to keep her name out of your mind yet when the nights too lonely, you'd relapse and think about her again

you blink and turn back to your laptop, biting your lip as you fight back your emotions, checking your essay one final time before packing up and leaving the café, yoonchae was and will always be the right person, yet you two met in the wrong time, fell in love at the wrong time — all you hope was for her to be happy, happy that her and your dreams were now accomplished, she'll always be in your mind, in your heart like a ghost haunting your everyday life, yet this ghost you didn't want to leave

wc: 1.1k words

hey erm i love yoonchae so this is literally the most angsty thing i can write for her oml

[probablyasocialecologist]

Saito has made a career of teasing out an eco-theory from the late, unpublished writings of Karl Marx. He earned his doctorate at Humboldt University, in Berlin, and now teaches philosophy at the University of Tokyo. His first book was an English version of his dissertation, titled “Karl Marx’s Ecosocialism” (2017), which tracked Marx’s study of the physical world and communal agricultural practices. (Saito is fluent in Japanese, German, and English.) In a second academic book, “Marx in the Anthropocene” (2022), Saito drew on an expanded repertoire of Marx’s unpublished notebooks to argue for a theory of “degrowth communism.” He gained a following, not only in philosophical circles but among a Japanese public facing the contradictions of tsunamis, billionaires, and same-day shipping. “Slow Down” has sold more than half a million copies in Japan and launched Saito into a rare academic celebrity. He appears regularly on Japanese television and aspires to the public-intellectual status of Thomas Piketty, the French economist who had a surprise hit in his 2013 doorstop, “Capital in the Twenty-first Century.”

The key insight, or provocation, of “Slow Down” is to give the lie to we-can-have-it-all green capitalism. Saito highlights the Netherlands Fallacy, named for that country’s illusory attainment of both high living standards and low levels of pollution—a reality achieved by displacing externalities. It’s foolish to believe that “the Global North has solved its environmental problems simply through technological advancements and economic growth,” Saito writes. What the North actually did was off-load the “negative by-products of economic development—resource extraction, waste disposal, and the like” onto the Global South.

If we’re serious about surviving our planetary crisis, Saito argues, then we must abandon capitalism, with its insatiable appetites. We must reject the ever-upward logic of gross domestic product, or G.D.P. (a combination of government spending, imports and exports, investments, and personal consumption). We will not be saved by a “green” economy of electric cars or geo-engineered skies. Slowing down—to a carbon footprint on the level of Europe and the U.S. in the nineteen-seventies—would mean less work and less clutter, he writes. Our kids may not make it, otherwise.

[miyaz6ki]

this is actually my first ever time requesting someone, i love your writing sm i just had to!!!!

can i request a fic where reader and kinich are sitting beside each other in a super boring course, no one is paying attention to the professor, and they’re all distracted with something else. so kinich couldn’t help but touch and tease you while no one was paying attention!!!

Thank you and i love u pls take care

you feel a cold touch of fingers linger onto the soft, plush of your thighs. you jolt up in a bit of shock, your ears perk up and turn to your desk mate—kinich.

"quit it! I'm trying to listen. and you know that." you place his hand back onto the desk, and starting jotting down notes to your notebook, skilled writing.

"flower.." he whispers the nickname he gave you so long ago, years ago even—yet he still used it till this day.

his hand slowly got warm as it stayed on your thigh, reaching even deeper into them. a teasing squeeze every now and then that got you sweating.

he chuckles as he watches you shudder from the clear, cold sentiment he set onto your skin previously now spreading throughout.

the very tips of his fingers eventually rested near your very core just to tease you as he watched you try to note something the professor said down, but your cheeks were already warming up, barely concentrating on whatever subject you both were in.

"k- kin'!" "hmm?"

"stop.." "stop what? use your words."

you felt too flustered to try and retaliate as his hand massaged your skin. man would this be a long speech and communications period.

[tragedy-machine]

Cameo week highlights, general info part 2

if jayden was to imagine how charles looks like, he thinks charles would be brawnier than he is

edwin took notes in his notebook about his conflicting feelings about charles, ck and monty

there were plans for a dbda halloween and xmas special

charles would want to hit edwin's dad with a cricket bat

charles and edwin frequent the london eye

reading detective stories together is what the boys do to unwind after a rough day (possibly with edwin reading out loud to charles, based on what Zack Ogle said)

charles would wish on a star for his mom to be okay

payneland's theme song would be "you've got a friend in me"

said in george's spoilery tone "maybe we would have (seen the boys go for a swim)"

there'd be a proper argument between the boys in s2

in s2 they would be a fox and a rabbit character with a specific relationship with one of the main four, named kith and kin

while alive charles just latched onto anybody who was willing to spend time with him

george like to imagine that edwin would have a horse/have access to a horse at st hilarion and would do some horse-riding (also implies a possible horse-riding scene in s2)

george loves Italy! says he feels like his best self there

we would have seen crystal navigating life back in london in s2

[fairy-writes]

Hi! I saw that your requests are open, would you be down to write any Edward Elric fluff? I just love him and I really like your writing <33

DENIAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist

Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): FLUFF, Female!Reader, Alchemist!Reader, mildly sexist behavior from Ed in the beginning (but he gets better)

Notes: This was going to be a songfic but instead is based on the song “Despair” by leo. But now it’s not. Mostly because I couldn’t find a website to copy and paste the lyrics from.

__________________________________________________________________________

Edward met you when he was twelve years old. You looked around his age and, sadly, was a few inches taller than him. You were both in Central Command and waiting for the State Alchemist Exam to start among all the other candidates. You were sat on a chair in the corner, pouring over a small pocket notebook with scribbles and writing that looked worse than his own chicken scratch. 

Of course, he only knew this because he happened to be doing the same thing.

Not because he thought you were pretty. No no. That would be preposterous!

He wished Alphonse could be there. But after they found out there was a physical evaluation, he dropped out and left the prospect of being a State Alchemist up to Edward.

The exam proctor for the written portion of the exam came out and called everyone inside the exam room. You stood, pocketed your notebook, and went inside. Your eyes caught his, and you offered a friendly smile. Edward just scowled back.

He wasn’t here to make friends. 

However, you didn’t let that annoy you, and you took your seat where you were assigned. Coincidentally, it was right in front of Edward. It was obvious that you were both the youngest two at the exam. Everyone else was middle-aged or, at the very least, in their twenties at best.

The exam proctor clapped his hands together, 

“You have two hours. Good luck!” 

Edward flew through the exam. It was reasonably straightforward, with only a few questions mildly stumping him. Most of the questions were multiple-choice, with a handful of essay questions. 

Ha. This written exam was all bullshit if the military thought this would stop him. 

Soon enough, he finished the last question in his best handwriting and turned it in to the proctor at the front of the room. He was the first one done at approximately an hour and eleven minutes. He could feel the glares as he exited the exam hall and found you sitting on a bench, pouring over your notes yet again. 

“You!” He jabbed an accusatory finger. How were you here? He didn’t see you leave! And you had been sitting right in front of him! You look up, startled like a deer in the headlights, but soon, your face smooths to that irritating friendly smile. 

“It’s you again! How did you do on the exam?” You say conversationally, and his brain stalls. 

Something about your voice makes his heart stutter. 

“Uh… what?” Edward fumbles, and you shut your book and slip it into the back pocket of your overalls, stretching your arms above your head. 

“Man, I thought it was hard! Those field questions were tricky!” You forge onward with your rather one-sided conversation, adjusting your shirt under your overalls. You wore dirty overalls, a dirty black long-sleeved shirt, and dirty rubber-soled sneakers. The left one was untied. Overall, you looked… not… very well put together. He was pretty sure you had mud smeared above your eyebrow. Hell, even Edward wore his best clothes, a button-down and some slacks, at Granny’s insistence. 

“The test was easy.” Edward eventually says, and you huff playfully,

“‘Course it was for you. But I still finished first, didn't I?” You tease, and he feels his cheeks flush.

“This isn’t a competition!” At that, you stare with your eyebrows raised,

“Not everyone becomes a State Alchemist, y’know. So it kind of is a competition.” You say, and he throws his hands up and storms away. He didn’t have time for you. He had to go back to his hotel room and prepare for the practical phase.

Edward met you next in Colonel Roy Mustang’s office.

He had just received his certification as the Fullmetal Alchemist when there was a knock on the door. Alphonse turned, his armor clanking slightly as he moved to open the door.

“Come in,” Mustang called, a grin on his face that Edward did not like. “It seems like your partner is here, Fullmetal,” he said as the door opened, and you peeked your head in.

“You!” He jumps up and points yet again. You cringe but recognize him easily enough and jab a finger at him.

“You made it through the exam!” You shriek, and he flinches himself at your volume.

Mustang quirks an eyebrow,

“You already seem acquainted.” He comments almost dumbly, and Edward grits his teeth.

“She finished the exam before me.” He grinds out, and Mustang’s eyebrow raises even higher. He leans his chin on his clasped hands.

“So this is the one who got a perfect score. You don’t look like much,” He muses, and Edward bites back a snippy retort. The fact that he hadn’t gotten a perfect score was a touchy subject. After all, he had missed one question—one!

You give a mock bow and straighten,

“Well, you don’t look like much yourself, sir.” You quip, and Alphonse stifles a laugh. Mustang sighs and mutters under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like, “Great, now there’s two of you.”  He then claps his hands together softly and looks at both of you, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Now, Fullmetal, I’d like to introduce you to your new partner. This is the Ink Alchemist. Ink, this is the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.” He said, and immediately, Edward spotted a problem.

“Partner? No way! I’m not working with some girl!” He snaps and sees you roll your eyes out of the corner of his vision.

“So you’re one of those people?” You sneer, and he bares his teeth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Before you two can start bickering, Mustang interjects.

“It’s under orders of the Führer himself that you two work together. So I suggest you both put aside your differences and get along.” He says, and you almost snap to attention like a dog looking at its master. Which Edward supposed, in a way, you were. 

Just like he was. 

Dogs of the military.

“So… what kind of alchemy do you do?” Alphonse said awkwardly as you and Edward scowled at each other. You three are on a train, heading toward Resembool to give Granny and Winry the fantastic news of Edward becoming a State Alchemist. But, of course, you had to tag along to “as his partner.” 

Edward was partially tempted to ditch you at a random train station. 

But he had tried that already, and it hadn’t worked. 

You perked up at the question and reached for your long sleeves. Your shirt was at least clean this time.

“Oh wow! That’s beautiful!” Alphonse gasped, and you grinned. 

Even Edward has to admit your transmutation circles are indeed beautiful. 

Extra lines swirl out from the circles themselves, decorating your arms like vines of flowers. He even spies a few doodled flowers in the bare spaces between circles. They dot your arm in varying sizes and intricacy, with the largest being the size of your palm and the smallest being almost the size of Edward’s thumb. Even the tiny ones had an insane amount of detail.

You preen under the attention but soon work your sleeves back down your arms and sit back in your seat next to Edward. 

“I designed ‘em myself! That’s where I got the name the Ink Alchemist!” you say, and when Alphonse asks more questions, you are happy to launch into a lecture worthy of his old school teacher. 

Edward has to admit… you looked really pretty when you were excitedly talking about alchemy with his younger brother. 

Admittedly, Edward’s little “crush” (though he refused to say it was one) grew bigger and bigger each day. Days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. And that meant it grew harder and harder to hide from your keen eyes. You were brilliant—one of the smarter alchemists he knew—and pretty. Even though you were taller than him, he could look past that. 

Alphonse picked up on it, Winry picked up on it, and even Colonel Mustang picked up on it! And truthfully? Mustang was the absolute worst about it. He always watched you and Edward interact with a smug smile as if this was all his doing. 

And Edward had the inkling that it was that you two were paired together. Because why would the Führer pair two prepubescent teens together?

But as the two of you hit eighteen and Edward finally grew past you in height, things changed. 

It was the week before you confronted Father and his plans. 

Edward meandered away from the dying campfire and found you under the stars in a meadow. Darius, Heinkel, and Greed were all presumably fast asleep in their sleeping bags, and it was his turn to keep watch. 

They were in the middle of nowhere. Edward could spare a few minutes from night watch to talk to you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, nearly spilling your pot of ink that was balanced precariously on your knee. You hold a paintbrush in hand and are retracing the many transmutation circles that litter your arms. 

He could never get over how pretty they were. 

“Not really. I wanted to get these redone before… y’know… everything.” You say, and he takes a seat next to you, his automail leg creaking as he does so. He hadn’t maintained it in forever, it was stiffening up. 

“We still have a whole week before the eclipse.” He reminds you, and you look up at the stars, tracing the constellations with your eyes. 

“I know, but I can’t sit here and do nothing.” You reply, and he hums, thinking back to when he first met you. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurts into the night sky and sees you frown and look at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“For what?” You ask, and he shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat up. It wasn’t like him to be so sentimental! What was wrong with him?!

He only got like this when you were around. 

“For how I acted when we first met… Ditching you at the station… refusing to work with you… And—”

“Woah, woah, woah, where’s this coming from?! We aren’t going to die next week, are we?!” You cut him off, panicked, and nearly spilled your ink again. He caught it with his left hand right as you grabbed it, and your fingers brushed. 

“I don’t plan on it… But all these years have had me thinking how awful I was to you. And for no reason other than my pride.” The words come tumbling out, and he gets more and more heated until you kneel in front of him and cup his face. 

That gets him to shut up real quick.

“You were twelve, Ed.” You say gently and he huffs, opening his mouth to speak some more when you put a finger to his lips. Your skin is soft against his mouth, and he can smell the ink staining your fingertips. 

You continue to talk unabashed,

“You were twelve, and I forgave you a long time ago. I care for you a lot. We’ve been working together for what, six years? I know I didn’t make it easy to work with me either.” You finish, and he sighs, ducking his head in embarrassment. Then, before he can stop himself, he pulls you into a tight hug. You return it immediately.

“I have something to tell you after all this is over.” He mumbles and hears you chuckle. His heart, as it always does, skips a beat at the sound. 

Maybe when they defeat Father, he can tell you how he really feels.

Instead of living in denial. 

[professional-sniper-lover]

I LOVEEE THIS

open to suggestions btw

[ninasnakie]

New Fic! 😃🎉

Finally! I posted the first chapter of my FTH fic, A Study in Scale. The story lived for a year with me, everywhere I went, my traveling to the other side of the world, written in different sizes of notebooks, journals, and even napkins, speech-to-typed in Google doc, recorded on my phone whenever something came to my mind and I was in a weird place/ situation...

I had to do Tons of research, from geography and physiology to chemistry, history, and criminology, for this story, which is based on one of my lifelong dreams and fantasies. I went to sleep countless nights dreaming about having a companion like that, and now I wrote it in the form of a Sherlock fic.

I hope my Google history hasn't been checked during this time because they would be scared by the history, which includes things like "How long does it take to dissolve a body in sulfuric acid?"

I'd Love to share my journey with you Sherlockians, and grateful for reposts!

Let me know if you want to be deleted or added to the list. :)

@totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @calaisreno @helloliriels @blogstandbygo @topsyturvy-turtely @starrla89 @sgam76 @friday411 @thegildedbee @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @7-percent @kitten-kin @major-trouble @a-victorian-girl @sherlockjohnblog @holmesianlove @inevitably-johnlocked @khorazir @petite-madame

[luridon]

Habits

♡characters: Cater Diamond, The Prefect

♡warnings: MINORS DNI, stalking, parasocial relationship, obsessive behavior, MINORS DNI

♡notes: Based off this. No nsfw I just don't want minors on this blog.

♡w/c: 2.4k+ | ♡masterlist♡ | ♡ao3 mirror

He never meant to use it like this.

Like, really. Honestly. He did this long before the Prefect came into the picture. Before the. . .following and watching and other stuff, he used it to gather dirt. Hot goss, you know, the kind of tea that guys just didn't spill for Cater Diamond, Cay-Cay, Cay-kins, Riddle Rosehearts' loyal lackey. They'd spill it to Dee though. Well, near him. Quiet, tired Dee was always too busy studying the Queen of Hearts' Rules crammed into pages of a notebook to be more notable than the furniture he sat on. 

Dee was unobtrusive. Forgettable. Even if he looked like Cay-Cay, he didn't have his energy. No cute sparkle in the eye, no lively grin or a phone as he chased trends and snapped Magicammable pics. There was nothing in him, and that was fine. It made it easier to blend into the background and soak things in.

(He didn't really mean it for gossip either. But something sneaky like that, even if it was cringe, being underhanded is still a better reason than just. . .the other idea. That he did it to get info, that he did it as a prank but no one caught on- any reason's better than if he does it just cause of wanting to do nothing and be nothing and no one for a while-)

The watching was an accident. His eyes just kind of get drawn to them a lot, because they stand out. A Prefect and their fiery kitty with blue flame, magicless kid and their beast. Because he got so used to it, even when Grim isn't around with his eye-catching flame, he ends up looking at the Prefect. It's habit, like that dog experiment.

(Maybe it's envy, why he started looking at them. A magicless, lost kid. There's nowhere to go but up, and nobody cares if they fall down whatever inches they've gained through grit and clawing the cliff.)

So he watches the Prefect because he got used to it. And because he watches, of course he'll notice stuff. His head's got more than trends and good angles, after all. Stuff like how much they try their best at everything, even with the handicap of being from another world. Stuff like how they don't have much money or anything, really. 

(Maybe it's their drive that he wants more than their blank slate here in Twisted Wonderland- they try and try and try no matter how hard and it's a little like those motivational vids he usually scrolls past except it's real and there, right in front of his eyes if he just looks.)

The Prefect carries a bag everywhere, because they don't have magic to stow away their belongings. They leave it by the doorway so it doesn't get dirty while they help their buddies with their chores. Understandable, since nobody is stupid enough to steal in a Riddle-ruled Heartslabyul months in or let someone else get away with theft. Or, they leave it on the table to mark a spot in the library or beside them when they nap. Grim usually passes out, if he's there and if he was asked to guard it. 

What's another pen or notebook to him? What's a pastry from the cafeteria or a snack from Sam's that he doesn't intend to eat anyway? He gets to take pics of cute stationery and sweets, and the purchases get to not go to waste. He slips the gifts into their bag or just nearby, and when they see it, small paper bags with no note beyond You look like you needed it or something lame and blunt like that if he wrote anything at all, the Prefect smiles brighter than he ever will for such small things.

Like a million other people who gives donations and gifts and all that stuff to their favorite steamers, content creators, idols whatevers, what he's doing isn't that odd. It isn't.

Naturally, because he watches them, he follows them to watch them more. He's not breaking any rules. He's still attending class. He's not loitering in the halls. He just watches them in public places anyway, when there's time. It's nothing Riddle could or would collar him for.

Being Dee becomes. . .nice, again, in a way it hasn't been in a while, after the novelty wore off and he wasn't really sure what he was doing it for, if not to eavesdrop. Seeing the Prefect is relaxing. Decompressing. It's not that weird. Riddle calms down and looks happy when he tends to Heartslabyul's hedgehogs. The Prefect is also something small and cute, like a hamster on a wheel, running nowhere, sometimes getting flung off cause it goes too hard but it will just get on again to keep running, keep going.

(Maybe it's not envy. Not anymore. Because if it's envy, then he should have let those underclassmen jump the Prefect for being an annoying know-it-all try-hard in class despite being magicless and nobody but him would know he did nothing. He wouldn't have gotten that worked up as he changed back and scared them off with some spells and a thrashing and some memorably humiliating pics of the defeat for reassurance while the Prefect walked away, busy and trying to do whatever they were doing then. Heading to Heartslabyul probably, to hang out with Ace and Deuce since they didn't have any chores and it was Tuesday.

If it is envy, then envy's a small price to pay to feel how he does when he sees them.)

So he watches them, and follows them, and it's not that weird.

(He started being Dee to be empty for a while, but when he leaves them something and they leave a sticky note despite them usually being so tidy wherever they go, when he picks it up when they're long gone and nobody's around and it says Thank you with a smiley face and a coffee candy from Sam's, it feels like there's something in his chest and he doesn't mind it at all.)

There's nothing wrong with what he's doing. They both get to feel better from it. The Prefect likes Cater, calls him Cay and smiles and waves. They try to pose when he asks them for selfies, so they don't really care about their pictures being on his phone. Sometimes they notice him with his phone aimed their way when he's snapping a shot of them and their pals after they've made a mess, and they seem to laugh, so they don't care about candids either. They wouldn't mind then, what he's doing-

It's kind of funny. 

The one time he isn't trying to watch them, when he's actually busy going through his notes, he bumps into them and he loses his grip on his notebook.

The Prefect falls, because they're smaller, and despite being on the ground, they apologize; and because they're on the ground, they grab the notebook with the Rules of the Queen of hearts and somewhere between those lines, in those pages, he has their class schedule because it's their friends' schedule but also their schedule beyond classes and their favorite snacks and sweets which is less explainable and his blood freezes in his veins-

They hand the notebook to him, apologizing as they look away, face a cute shade of pink. He takes it and they take off.

They didn't even glance at it.

They don't mind then. They don't mind what he's done, that he keeps-

Reason slams into him when he raises a hand to his face, when he realizes how wide he's smiling. 

Why would he think they'd be okay with it, when they don't even know what was in the notebook? Why would be fine with him acting like a creep and stalking them? They're glad when they get stuff from him but why wouldn't they when they have nothing? They smile all the time, even when they're troubled, so maybe all those thank-you notes and that candies were just ways to stave off their stalker.

The Prefect is fine with Cay-Cay bright and bubbly, super lively, always grinning and so shallow he can't tell where sincerity begins if it's even there. 

They don't even recognize him like this, even with the same face, the same build, when he just ties his hair a little different and loses the pep in his step and lets himself go a bit vibe-wise.

He clutches the stationery enough for it to warp. 

He is alone in the hall, and they're not yet that far. He changes back into Cater, hair half-tied and eyes bright and a smile painted on his face. He chases after them. They should be heading back to Ramshackle now. He knows because he knows their schedule and habits but that's- it's-

Hey, he wants to say, raising the notebook, thanks for picking this up! You okay? You look like you were in a hurry.

And then it will click, and then they'll know and because they're smart it will only probably be a matter of time until everything else clicks and then he'll. . .he'll. . .

. . .what if they don't smile? Or if they smile tight and strained, because he's been a creep and they want to be nice to placate him? He doesn't mean anything bad towards them, honest if there's one thing he has to be honest about in his life, but they don't know that and they won't ever know if he doesn't say anything but what if when they do know, they just. . .

His feet stick to the ground. His words stick in his throat.

This isn't normal. This isn't normal.

He has pictures of them they don't know about. He knows more about them than they've ever told him. It's weird, and wrong, and gross, and the worst part is, it's real.

Because he smiled when he got their schedule from their classmates until that wasn't enough. He'd thought about how they'd smile when he got them that paw-print eraser, that almond cookie, those band-aids and mechanical pencils and a little cat charm that they have clipped onto their bag. He kept those stupid candies he'll never eat in a jar and tiled the notes into another notebook and crammed those into a box in a drawer instead of throwing them away.

This isn't cute. 

They're a person, not a pet. They're a real person and they didn't ask to be put on some pedestal for parasocial shit from a gloomy, two-faced underhanded upperclassman.

So it's wrong. This is wrong. 

He should burn the notebook, the notes, the sweets. He should stop buying them things, stop following them. Just be Cater, cute and charismatic. Just be normal. 

. . .his eyes keep wandering though, and so do his feet. It's not his fault, it's become a habit. He just can't break it fast enough before he finds the Prefect at Heartslabyul's library. On Thursdays, they hang out with Ace and Deuce then head here because it's a nicer place to study than in Ramshackle. Their friends are occupied with their scheduled tasks, so they got permission from Riddle to stay here with Grim for an hour or two. They sit by the window, and he sits at a couch in the corner where he's hidden easily enough, if he ducks. 

He tries not to watch them, to look at other things instead or the random book he's pulled and let lie splayed on the side table. He doesn't have the notebook, but he's still there, and that's still pretty bad. He gets all those notices and his parents' warnings gainst smoking and vapes now, since he can't seem to kick even this substanceless obsession as fast as he wants.

His eyes skim the same paragraph maybe eighty-two times when he hears footsteps. Their footsteps. They're at the shelf nearby when he raises his head. They try to reach up to return a book, but can't quite reach. They frown as they look for the footstool that a second-year had moved elsewhere while they were reading.

Against his better judgement, he stands and walks over.

"Do you need help?" He asks softly, not looking at them.

Their voice is hushed too, because library, and some terrible part of his brain thinks it's cute and soothing. "Oh. Yeah, this is supposed to go up there, I think?"

The book's pressed into the hand he reaches out. He glances at the cover, the fifth volume of a travelogue about a guy who claimed he came from another world, and the spine matches the gap on the level they were trying to reach. When his inches over them don't work, he uses a bit of magic to slide the book in the rest of the way. He keeps his eyes on the shelf. 

"Did you want the sixth one?" he asks, because they still have almost an hour, and he's really gotta trash his memory of their schedule. 

"Nah, I think I'm good. Thanks, Cater!"

His fingers dig into the edge of the shelf.

He turns his head, and he must have a weird look on his face, because the Prefect wears an odd one then.

"You uh, you are Cater right?"

". . .yeah," he mutters, a million miles away.

They let out an awkard breath of a laugh as their cheeks flush again as they smile so sweetly. "Oh neat. I thought I messed up for a moment but same eyes and voice and um, didn't really recognize you for a bit . . . cool look though. Well, thanks for the help! See you!"

They wave and he returns it with an unenergetic raised hand. Once they leave with Grim, that hand reaches over his face, covering the stupid way his mouth is twisting, and the other slips to his neck. Well shit, he wasn't just hearing the pounding in his ears for nothing then. 

They don't mind him like this, solemn and dull. They don't mind him as Cater, playful and bright. They like his help, how he looks however he looks, they like-

He pulls his hair loose at the end between bookshelves and lets out a shaky breath as he tugs at the strands. Be normal be normal be normal-

He should stop it, really. The following, the watching, the stalking. He will. He will. 

. . .they probably won't blame him if it takes a while though right? They know who he is, they'll smile at him regardless of how he shows himself. And they like his help. 

If it takes a while to kick his bad habits, it's their fault really, for being so cute.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Melusine HC’s

Carnivorous/ omnivorous melusines :

toe beans to silence their walking, or soft paws to absorb sound.

Tail for balance,

Flat faced for more hunting appearances

Blues/pastels for underwater, or pinks/reds for deep sea hunting

Herbivore / omnivore melusines

Rabbit paws instead

Speedy lil buggers

Excellent at hiding / protecting Kin

Power in numbers

Excellent gatherers

Melusine have front facing eyes with marks them as predator creatures in this essay i will

you happen to be an omnivorous Melusine- quite lucky, you like to think you were, since while your siblings do gather various seagrasses and kelp for meals they also pepper in some oceanic creatures they might've picked up on their way through the sea. all the food is delicious! perhaps a little off-putting to outsiders, but you and Foul Legacy have long since grown used to the appearance of all the snacks you prepare, and besides, anything is better than the monsters Legacy used to hunt in the Abyss. that was for survival first and foremost and from what you can decipher through Legacy's clicks and chitters, his hunts were filling but tasted absolutely terrible. you've begun keeping a tiny little notebook you crafted out of paper-thin shells filled with recipes and foods you both like

on the rare days you decide to venture outside, you prefer to devote at least a couple of hours to picking and collecting different fruits. you sprinkle in a few flowers just for fun, but you and Foul Legacy skip around Fontaine's wilderness with handmade baskets, a small one for you and a larger one you and your siblings made specifically for Legacy, filling them to the brim with berries and sunsettias and bulle fruit galore. you've been working towards making jam and preserves, crushing the fruit and storing them in small, shiny jars for later, and your little tail always wags happily whenever you show Foul Legacy your progress. your Abyssal companion merely purrs, holding a marcotte delicately between his claws before gingerly tucking it against one of your soft, bloopy antennae with a fanged smile

[sirencozycove]

─ Obsessed with how my accounts look so matchy-matchy <33 ┆ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘