I shall elucidate

“You’re avoiding the question……Treyyy  you saying I’m not your type? ”

 A gasp, dramatically of course, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Of course Cater, you’re my type, the best type just for me’  obviously.”

“If you answer the questions yourself, there’s really no point in me saying anything huh?” 

“But here, let me try a completely original take for you.” 

→ INCOMING TEXT From: CayCay ♦️✨ // @splitcrxd​

[txt] heyyyy TreyTrey ✨✨

[txt] before u got nerfed could doodle suit change like outfits ?? Like if u wanted to give urself a whole new wardrobe for five minutes ?

{ If you're still accepting these! }

@vanruju sent // ♚ — a memory of something paranormal

"Aside from the ghosts we have on campus?" 

“Mh. I guess there was this time when Che’nya and I were kids playing hide and seek in the woods. No matter how much I walked, I wasn’t able to figure out how to get back out. I could have sworn I was walking in circles for hours, and passed this really big patch of mome raths at least seven times. Makes you feel like you’re losing your mind you know? But when I finally got out, you know what Che’nya said?” 

“You’re pawsitivley horrible at this Trey. You’re supposed to hide by the time I count down fur-om ten.” 

  “I mean it’s all stuff we’ve lived through , I didn’t think you were the nostalgic type treytrey~” Maybe It’s too suspicious of him to try to speed run through this. 

His younger self would laugh at Trey’s response.

‘That’s Not much of a type! but I’ll allow it’ he says, before pondering over his own type. ‘well, as long as they’re cute and totes fun I don’t mind.’

“Well, what’s the verdict do I fit your type~?”

“I’m not.” 

Nostalgic? Him? Caught up in the past? Couldn’t dream of it. Didn’t sound like him at all. Before he can really harp on it, the next question’s lobbed his way, landing with the subtlety of a bag of metal spoons smashing against the floor. 

If I answer that, it's just confirming I am a bread boy. I can't.

anonymous sent // ✈ — an eye-opening memory 

“Collecting all those wishes was the most tedious thing I was assigned. Running around was one thing. But actually getting everyone to cough up their wishes?” What a disaster. Oh, but that wasn’t the question. What had been illuminating about that experience..? 

“I guess it was pretty eye opening to see that even if you had the opportunity to wish for something, sharing that truth with someone is enough of a turn off to wish for something stupid instead.” Now. Was he talking about himself, or someone he had to come collect a star from? “I guess banging on someone’s door like a loan shark and making them share their wish is pretty unpleasant, so who could blame them?” It’s not like you’d want to share personal information like that to a complete stranger. Or was he over thinking it? It didn’t sit that well considering the fact that some of those he’d come to collect from were close friends. Ah, but that fell right back into if he was even worthy to be trusted with sensitive information. Sounds like a him problem. 

anonymous sent // ☽ — a memory of their father 

The feeling of tacky dough against his palms, both still soft and pliant. He’s struggling to push his glasses up with his shoulder, growing more worried by the second that they’ll slip right off his nose and crack against the counter. Or even worse, get stuck in the lump he was trying to form into a loaf. The sound of his father laughing and coming to help him, familiar hands pushing the frames back in place while peering over at Trey’s first attempt at making bread. 

Not bad. 

A feeling of warmth in his chest at the praise, eyes lighting up at the simple task. He’s not very good at it yet, but surely under the watchful supervision of one of the two greatest, and only, bakers he knows, he could learn. Following instructions was easy enough, and with a recipe and his dad to point him in the right way, even someone in grade school (himself) could pull it off. And even though he’s seen it once, seen it a hundred times, watching his father carefully plop a round loaf of sourdough into the oven to rise felt different this time. 

// 

  “No no ~ I just think it’s like. pfft. So boring just. Sleeping? Nothing exciting there. Yknow? Let’s just keep going.” He’ll gently pull him away. It really wasn’t that bad but, once again, he knew how things could possibly go and he’s got a reputation to save!! 

Though the next scene didn’t seem too promising either.

          “Heyy, TreyTrey, what kinda girls are you into~?”

Oh god not the sleepover talk- he’d look as his younger self made himself comfortable on the other Trey’s bed, while he was working at his desk.

  “Uh this seems boring too aha–”

How long can he keep this up!?

“Boring? I mean, if you want me to hear what you say instead...” He said like some sort of prediction, the next Cater up to bat asking him a pretty standard question. 

“Oh I remember this. I think I just said a girl that’d be into me.” 

Had he asked Cater what his type was? Possibly? But if he didn’t remember the answer, Cater had probably said something vague. 

     This is totally embarrassing. 

A look at the younger versions of themselves, Cater dozing off on Trey’s shoulder after a long study session.

It’s normal, it wasn’t anything too bad , but he knew his younger self well enough and he wasn’t about to get caught after all these years.

Even if they were dating now, something about Trey seeing him crushing on him back then was not something he felt like explaining.

So he’d simply grab Trey by the arm and pull him in a different direction. 

  “Heyyy Why don’t we keep moving? There’s nothing interesting here~!”

@doodlesuit​

He wasn’t sure what they were looking at that was so bad- or more that, he knew what they were doing but had not a clue why Cater was dragging him off. 

@doodlesuit​

   trey that’s kinda .. 

    “ i know how to kiss someone .  i was just curious what my two upperclassmen were up to . as a friend . no , no . as a concerned son . ”

Hm? 

@doodlesuit // starter call!!

❅ : she’s been testing out what little access she has to her semblance on the daily, and weiss is not entirely pleased with the results. already she’s felt fragile and weak and wildly out of practice; trying to get back to the roots of her swordplay has been difficult, to boot. the least these awful people in charge could have done is give her a little more of her power back! even so, she knows she’s stuck with what she’s been given. maybe, in more time, she’ll have more, but… this is it, for now. it stings.

with that bitter taste on her tongue, she leaps forward off of a glyph platform floating mid-air - and is promptly knocked to the ground by some flying foreign object. a person, actually: a young man on a broom, of all things. of course, now she’s on all fours and winded from the fall, however relatively close to the ground she had been. though perhaps some ten feet higher might have caused some damage - but no, her aura is still surprisingly intact.

the same cannot be said for her mood.

‘can you please look where you’re going? what if i’d broken something!’ like herself, as the implication happens to be.

‘does anybody pay attention to what they’re doing around here?’ she may have leapt before looking herself, but she’d rather not add insult to near-injury as it were. though she does begin to wince and cradle her right (and thankfully non-dominant) wrist - perhaps she’s landed a bit closer to injury than she’d thought.

It was a little funny, a lot inconvenient that even with his unique magic returning bit by bit, it was in the most minuscule and useless ways possible. But it wasn’t like he did much with it beside a vanity change here and there. He’d be fine without it. 

Maybe it would have been better to be unable to fly, what with all this mid air crashing and almost killing people. The collision was solid, and he grimaced at the prospect of the upcoming conversation. A quick panicked look at the person he’d just bowled out of the air, and an even faster touchdown to offer an apology. The immediate scolding thrown his way though? How familiar. 

What would have happened if she’d broken something? Then you’d have a few broken bones, maybe? Not that he’d wish that on anyone ever, but sure sure, he could get why she’d be upset. Offering a hand to pull her up, his eyes landed on her possible injury.