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espritdediamant · 1 year

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#NotAllScorpios | CATER & TREY.

[ 𓆩⟡𓆪 @troisfleur ]

SO, THE THING ABOUT NRU is that their faculty really does love the whole ‘get your hands dirty with practical application’ M.O. of learning. Which is cool—like, good, even, because staring at a book and memorizing things is so not useful NGL. There’s always something to be said for the first time you master a string of incantations that were serious gibberish on a page, but come out of you and into manifestation like, no sweat. Not to mention the rush of leaning back and knowing it’s All Up Here (like, in your head?) rather than having to start at it ceaselessly in a book, else hear it in recitations over and over.

Most of all, it can even be fun and enlightening. The best classes are, anyway.

Cater flings himself down onto the sofa in the Heartslabyul lounge, and pulls his laptop onto his knees. On his screen, he’s pulled up his transcribed notes (which—right, like, he knows he definitely did just go Yay, practical lessons, goodbye endless wrist cramps of notetaking! but that’s for things that are more do-y and cast-y, and this is something that’s a little more involved with reference material—but at least it’s the interesting kind and not just glyphs and spell orders).

Anyway. His notes: they’ve been organized meticulously since class, because this assignment’s sort of major and Cater is really not in the business of messing it up. Considering that’s the other part of practical application—stepping away from the theoretical knowledge approach means there’s some actual consequences to what you’re casting out into the world. Usually that's a consideration about where you're hurling fire balls, or something. Today? It's all about people and their stories, and through them demonstrating an absolute mastery of the cosmos.

Over the top of his laptop, Cater sets his sights on his current target.

“Hey, Trey?” he calls, slouching down into the couch to get a little more comfortable. “You know that like, the astrology class notes can’t bite you, right? Can you just sit? I’m gonna get started here in a minute and you are totally throwing off the vibe by stalling around like that R-N.”

Absolute mastery of the cosmos being presented by, as it were, one personalized chart reading from top-to-bottom. The mark of all decent astrologers is the ability to explain the mysteries within the stars and their machinations. The assignment isn’t going to be a difficult one by any stretch—by now Cater has plenty of practice with this sort of thing, whether people have agreed or not—but it’s a little different to offer the chart reading up to somebody who isn’t already asking for one.

(Difference being, Trey really is kind of doing Cater a favour, here. Yes, he totes could have gone and found someone who would be chomping at the bit to have their most inner depths laid out on the chart and scrutinized by the most capable eyes around.

But he might have left this until the last minute, and the report on the analysis and write-up-slash-presentation on how the reading itself went may be due within like, 48-hours. So, when the going gets tough the tough get going—into the kitchen to pull their go-to guy into the fray with them, that is.

Trey really is dependable like that.)

Reaching across to drag the coffee table closer, Cater flops open the grimoire with his blank charts and then rearranges the rest of his notes around it. The set up isn’t, like, super ideal but TBH? He would rather be comfortable while they’re embarking in on this than sitting at one of the study tables in the lounges.

He had always figured the atmosphere would be kind of important to offering a good reading, and maybe if he had more time to prepare he would have figured out like… Incense, or something. Maybe some tapestries. Mood lightning. A white noise machine.

...In lieu of any of that, the lounge’s assortment of lamps and the semi-lukewarm tea he’s been working on for a few hours will have to do. The assignment never said it needed to be a luxury reading, after all.

More settled into his claimed space, now Cater finds the time now to turn a grin in Trey’s direction. “Unless you’re all nervous now about what your chart’s going to say?”

(This is where he’d lean in and teasingly insist It’s not toooo late to back out, if you’re nervous! and technically it’s not—but that assignment is due, and time’s ticking.

So if he wants an out, Trey can ask for one himself.)

#𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰! ♡ | TREY.#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#[ gl trey ]#[ i was going to make the title a read u wrote u joke from rpdr ]#[ but then remembered u have not seen it ]#[ anyway mwah ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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#AnywayHeres... ♪ | MINI - OPEN.

The joys of cohabitation are, obvs, limitless. Even more so when yanked out of your usual cohabitation-y haunts and, YK, unceremoniously-ceremoniously plunked into someone else's habitation all together. Ramshackle's got no shortage of it's charms, at least. Rickety floors, warped stairs, drafts around the windows—

Clear perk, at least: High ceilings, great acoustics. Real vibes that are only found in old homes that were, at some point, meant for entertaining in that hoity-toity way of the past, so instruments are meant to sound good in these once-grand sitting rooms. Basically beckons for them.

Thin walls. So, it's easy to hear when there's something going on in said common areas (which, NGL, is great if you're nosy and frustrating if you're trying to be sneaky about something).Today's disruption of the quiet, gifted to the people of Ramshackle, is the dulcet hum of an acoustic guitar, strumming with enthusiasm to a familiar, if horrifically and permanently over played, guitar songbook staple.

The performance is far from reverent; Cater Diamond, seated on one of Ramshackle lounge's couches, snickers over the memeified to hell chords as he strums through the intro.

#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦! | MINIS.#𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦? 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘰… | OPEN STARTER.#[ someone please come tell him to stop ]#[ or dramatically join in ]#[ im so sorry he's the guy with a guitar in the common room LMAOOO ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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#RumourHasIt | OPEN.

THE LIBRARY IS QUIET AS usual, if you ignore the dull tapping of finger against glass, steady indication of someone—

[ …𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕… 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕… 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕… ]

—glued to their phone rather than their notes. Then there's a huff. Then, Cater leans across the table in front of him, head tipped and elbow resting against the surface for balance.

❝ HEY, SO, DID YOU LIKE... Hear about that guy that went missing, or whatever? ❞

❝ —The full scoop? No way, I can't even find anything about it on Magicam—I just overheard some guys talking about it earlier. But apparently...

Nothing's bein done about it—yet, anyway. ❞

#𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦! | MINIS.#𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦? 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘰… | OPEN STARTER.#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#[ MODS I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U HAD IN MIND ]#[ if anyone wants a lil campus gossip time with cater ]#[ praying hands emoji ]#[ i would like to dO THINGS SO BADLY ]#[ and starting is so difficult ]#[ he could be talking to ur muse or u could hear him and jump in ]#[ anything rly i am just grabby hands ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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"TSUMMY—I APPRECIATE YOUR PASSION, and all—totally! I do!—but..."

"HHHHH !! Did you have to go and start a flame war with Neige stans !? That's soooo not my brand—and my notifications are gonna be clogged for a week..."

(—See: Cater Diamond, laying starfish on the ground, phone in his outstretched hand. He is not giving shavasana relaxation as much as he is giving defeated card soldier, conquered and done in by their very own tsum-brother in arms. What sweet betrayal the internet foists upon ye who least expects it.

Adjacent: Catesum, tsuming tsumily and using his tsum-belly to scroll through the war he has started online in Cater's mentions.)

"I guess it's not like I could have expected you to know saying that would start a whole discourse moment, but c'mon, you can't just call someone's ult a has-been like that..."

The phone is responsibly snatched away, even if Catesum scrambles diligently with its little legs to catch it. "Nuh-uh, no more posting for you today !! Now we're gonna lay low and wait for someone else to cause a shitshow on the TL..."

"When you get your own phone, I'm soooo putting parental controls on your tsumccounts."

#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#𝘓𝘦𝘵’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘯 ♪ | EVENT.#[ okay gn everyone ]#[ happy tsumpril fools day ]#[ actual writing and things tomorrow maybe ]#[ i think fighting w neige fans IS secretly caters brand ]#[ hush hush about it though ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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"OHMIGOSH—YESSSS, TSUMMY! JUST HOLD that pose!"

This thing might have descended from the sky in a blast of inexplicable bright light, but there's no distress nor peril to be found in their vicinity. No biting, hissing, or delightfully adorable maiming, either!

Behold: Catesum, twisting every which way in the evasive, sought after golden hour light of early spring !!

(—It's actually a little impressive, how its stumpy legs and bean-like body can manage to strike such compelling poses for just the right shot. Who cares if it's an alien with nerve-wracking similarities in appearance and disposition?

Not Cater, and not when it's soooo 'cammable.—)

"Tsummy, bestie, we're def gonna cinch a hit post with these ♪"

#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#𝘓𝘦𝘵’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘯 ♪ | EVENT.#[ god i love the tsums ]#[ tsum even was a labour of love but cater was so thriving the entire time ]#[ anyway this isn't the last u will hear from catesum he has crimes to commit later ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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TREY FORGOES THE USUAL SONG AND DANCE: a note left with a surprise treat, a quick stop before classes, all his usual MO for delivering a gift. He hates being the center of attention on a normal day, never mind the pomp and circumstance and—enthusiastic extra efforts Heartslabyul goes for.

For Cater, though, he can make an exception.

Not that Trey has ever ambushed anyone, or plans to make a habit of it, but he’s already haunting the kitchen for the greater part of the weekend, if nothing else is necessary to see to. Cater’s a late sleeper when left to his own devices, and he adapts, no need to barge in first thing but laying in wait.

“Well, well. Good morning! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” (Just because he sees no need to rouse him doesn’t mean he can’t comment. It's well past one in the afternoon.) “I almost offered to give your lunch away to the freshmen.”

Sitting on the counter, a repurposed glass pastry cover keeps lunch from cooling too much. Trey can’t say he’s a plating expert by any means, but he does his best, a mock-up of a dish from a restaurant they end up haunting on a rare night into town. Sweet and spicy pork over rice, with the most eye-catching feature being the decorations on top. Tri-colored letters that would typically be reserved for the topping of cakes spells his name, staked into the pork somewhat cheekily.

Next to it, a rather small wrapped gift. Nothing thrilling, but practical, and—well, expected. The electric toothbrush is molded with the frankly terrifying card suit mascots of Cater’s favorite skate brand. It might be a knockoff. Trey doesn’t particularly care, and for the laugh alone, he’s sure Cater won’t mind, either.

“Happy Birthday, Cater—ha, well, whatever’s left of it.”

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE THE most of each and every birthday—and it’s easy to, living on a flashy campus with even flashier traditions. Cater loved birthdays even before entering the fray of NRU’s social scene. Now? They’re unparalleled.

So, like, he means to make the most of it. It’s an accident that he ends up scrolling through his video feed until noon.

—An honest accident! He really had great intentions of making it an early morning, and really soaking up all of the goods that come with being the day’s centrepiece. But, alas, the gods that rule benevolently (mostly) over his algorithms were good today, and yeah, NGL, maybe it was just a touch too difficult to pry himself out of bed even without blaming the algo-gods.

Point is, at least, he does get up eventually, and the hour makes the first-stop an obvious one. Destination, kitchen. Not quite a detour, but Cater does have grander ambitions than lingering in the dorm all day, and he’s already eaten up lots of it, and—

❝ Oh, sup, Trey ♪ ❞

(The greeting’s a bit blearily made with a yawn. Like, Cater’s awake and up-and-at-’em like the best of ‘em, but, you know, just now adjusting to the people in front of him, not on a screen thing that happens once you get up.)

More importantly, what follows! Cater looks to the counter that Trey’s so casually lingering around—which is super normal for him, YK, so nothing new there—but in lieu of baked goods… ❝ Oh. Em. Gee. ❞

Yeah, that looks soooo good. Cater’s phone is back in his hand so quick he thinks that he summons it, actually, rather than reaches for it. ❝ Trey, CUTEEE! ♡ You seriously stepped up the plating game— ❞ The little letters. LOL. ❝ Ugh, okay, this is so fun. Totally could start a new trend for birthday meals, this lowkey looks better than any cake—no offense, you know your cakes are gorge, but… ❞

Much, much better. To say nothing of the toothbrush sitting just beside. He’s literally never seen this before, and he has HAUNTED those new collection drops like no one else. It has to be some sort of weird, niche side hustle knock off. Who wants toothbrush merch, anyway? Seriously a strange move to collab with, like, Colgate, and one he’s super sure doesn’t even exist.

It's so weird. He’s gonna find a way to fit this into the grid too. Cater loves it.

❝ Literally outsold, as always, ❞ he insists, a cheesed smile tossed across to Trey. ❝ Thank youuu. I need to get a good pic for the B-Day photodump and I’m starving AND I'm actually right on time for lunch, TYSM, so don’t threaten to give it away— ❞

(It’s a good foot to start this solar return, even if he’s only stepping out into it halfway through the day. For all intents and purposes?

His timing's pretty good.)

#𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺! | IC.#𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘮… | ASKS.#𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘺! | SAVE TAG.#𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰! ♡ | TREY.#[ crying imagining those lil letters shoved in pork ]#[ he is sO GOOD ]#[ ty trey ]

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espritdediamant · 1 year

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"I managed to get here on time... I'm glad to have gotten to wish you a happy birthday on the correct day, it just wouldn't be the same. I hope your day is splendid and you can call upon me anytime. Happy Birthday, Cater!"