Cater is a rather tactile person as we see in the manga and anime—a quick side hug and pulling someone in for a cute selfie, but that’s as far as Cater’s willing to go most of the time. Touch isn’t actually his preferred love language, so he doesn’t alter his behavior with you much after noticing it might be one of yours. 

Other favorites of Cater’s would be throwing an arm over your shoulder to offer comfort to you, he’s pretty fine doing this in public, though he prefers to save more intimate things like actual hugging for more private areas. If you’re noticeably feeling down then you can expect Cater is the type to lean over and share his fyp with you, cute cat videos usually distract him! 

And coming in second place for most shameless about contact is Ruggie, heck I even think Floyd says something about Ruggie being a touchy person. Which. Pot calling the kettle black— But yeah the hyena beastman does not care about showing tactile affection in public! Ruggie has the realization pretty early on after observing your behavior around other touchy people, and after noticing you seem to lean into him a bit whenever he’s got you in a side hug. 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s not gonna be all up on you in public if that makes you a bit uncomfortable, especially if you say he’s overstepping and is acting a bit too much like a boyfriend. But if do give him permission and clearly state your boundaries then best believe he’s gonna be a law-abiding citizen! 

Ruggie’s preferences for touch don’t change much in private or public, but there’s obviously some things that he’s more willing to do in the privacy of your room or his own. Cuddling is one of those! I dunno why but I really headcanon that he likes it when you’re the big spoon, like just lay your full weight on him and he’s gonna be blissed out. Crush him, he loves it and he’s right where he wants to be. 

Kalim is so playfully tactile that it can get a bit overwhelming at times, he seems to always want to have a hand on you. Surprising no one, Kalim is the king of being shameless about pda. I feel like he’s actually one of the last people to notice how you react to touch because often he needs people to tell him outright if they’re not a tactile person, he’s not the best at reading social cues in my mind, but he does remember to check in with you at times. A stream of “are you sure this is okay? Wow, I never would’ve guessed you’re a touchy person!” is common whenever he remembers you might have unspoken boundaries. 

Touch is definitely one of Kalim’s top love languages, that and gift giving. But often he tries to restrain his need for physical contact a bit, especially if he doesn’t know your boundaries yet. Throughout the school day you can expect Kalim to teasingly boop your nose, tug gently on your ears as he passes you in halls, and of course hit you with a surprise high five or hip bump! 

After you’ve verbally stated that you’re alright with Kalim going all out with his love language then be ready to get jumped, both public and private. He will sneak up behind you in the halls and attempt to tickle your sides, it’s just because he loves seeing you laugh! Kalim and you have also devolved into playfully wrestling and throwing each other around on cushy mats and pillows that Jamil laid down with a tired sigh.

Jamil probably clocks it immediately and just files the observation away for never. He’s not the touchiest person in general and that doesn’t really change after you two get closer after the events of book 4. Touching brings him out of his comfort zone and it’s a boundary that he states very easily, though of course this boundary turns non-existent when Kalim is in the picture. 

I imagine Jamil prefers words of affirmation as his love language, he expects you to compliment his cooking after every meal, but he will also offer you a simple “good job” after you get a good grade. Though he’s not very verbal about his affection, he does write letters and small, kind notes at times. I headcanon Jamil started writing to vent his frustrations about his position, he burned every letter after he was done and it made him feel somewhat better. 

Sometimes he slips a sticky note underneath your door if you’ve been studying for a long time, heck I imagine he once hand delivered you a lunch with a note and never did it again after you compared the behavior to a mother’s. If you need to be touched for comfort reasons then he might step outside of his comfort zone and lay a hand on your shoulder and maybe rub your back like his mother used to do for him. 

The huntsman is also someone who clocks it immediately, though Rook does also notice it’s a new development in your personality. Seriously, you thought you’d actually gone three years under his radar? Nope! It does make Rook curious, how you’ve become so willing to be touched when you used to be so touch averse… 

He’s not the touchiest person in the beginning, but he does try to make sure he gets his ‘quota’ in. If Rook sees you anywhere on campus then he will change direction to collide with you, sometimes literally, and make sure he gets a healthy dose of physical contact with you. Especially if he’s noticed you’ve gone the entire day without it! 

Rook loves to hold your hand, even if it’s just for a few moments, and if you’re both experiencing some free time then he’s also willing to just lay down in the courtyard and soak up some sun with you. Don’t mind the fact that he’s got a camera out, shhhh, don’t complain, the lighting is perfect out here…

Floyd makes your life a living hell after Jade tells him about your preferred love language. It doesn’t even have to be touch specifically, either way he’s suddenly doing things that might make you swoon. If he hadn’t tried to choke you during your first interaction with him. 

Oh, you like gift-giving? Oh well suddenly Floyd’s got all these pretty shells to spare! Oh wait no that’s a tooth— Uh, you prefer words of affirmation? Then he’ll tell you you’re the best seadragon ever! Seven forbid one of your love languages is quality time…no one can pull the eel off of you. But touch? Oh Floyd can do touch, he loves touch, and yes that is a threat.

ꨄ︎

life at night raven college has been hectic.

honestly, yuuri has no idea whether or not it's usually like this—it's their first time in the twisted wonderland so they have no frame of reference—but it seems everyone they know collectively agrees this year has been pretty out there.

regardless, after the last overblot, it's strangely calmed down. they've been looking over their shoulder at every other sound, constantly paranoid as to when the next event was to come, but the other shoe has yet to drop. it's been smooth sailing, or as smooth as it can be.

it's the first day of the week, and ace is being as annoying as usual. this time, however, he's going for deuce instead of them. ace was making fun of him for tripping and falling flat on his face a few hours earlier. it would make sense, as deuce makes a fool of himself almost as often as ace does, if yuuri hadn't been with deuce the whole day. she will admit that she did laugh at him—why wouldn't they take any opportunity to point and cackle in any of their faces? that'd be a waste.

grim, however, was more interested in calling ace out on how he was totally wrong, and probably crazy, too. they wonder if he just wanted to disagree with ace for the hell of it. either way, the cat reminded her that it was ace that'd been missing.

it was weird. ace might be an annoying asshole, but he usually doesn't lie or make things up, especially not when there's plenty of things to make fun of deuce for. unfortunately, before yuuri got to call him out on a dirty, stinking liar, they'd gotten sidetracked by a mission sprung upon them. by none other than the headmage, too.

crowley was speaking to them, still giving them the information needed to complete the task, when a really weird looking magical pen meandered by—as if it had somewhere to be. they spent the rest of their afternoon chasing the tsukumogami before it started cursing people.

but then it happened again. and again. gossips after whisperings of people acting strange, being in two places at once—vaugly paranormal behavior, like a ghost is haunting the halls of night raven. (rather, more ghosts. there's already a bunch that float around.)

yuuri realized something was actually afoot when they'd been talking to crowley on wednesday.

“prefect! there you are!” they stopped midstep, a groan tossed from their mouth. they were doing their best to avoid him.

“what, headmage crowley?” they try to get him to hurry. yuuri needs him to talk as quick as possible so they can resume trying to get back to ramshackle before another student asks for their help. instead, he spends many minutes scolding—moreso whining at—them for being so rude.

“that’s not the point!” he deeply sighs like anything was bothering him.

“i came to inform you that some of the teachers are complaining that students are going missing.”

yuuri blanches, eyes bulging from their head. “what?!” crowley is starkly underreacting if people are missing, especially in a place like this. they could be dead, for all they know.

“that's what i said!” he sighs. “that's nothing new. attendance here is horrible.”

that's not what they were worried about.

crowley makes no sense. he is annoying, stupid, and he makes them so, so angry. minimizing what could be a serious situation to his arrogant students simply skipping class is why there is so much trouble here in the first place! it's almost as if he neglects problems on purpose.

“regardless, the curious part is that whenever the students return,” that made more sense. yuuri thought they've yet to be found. “they act as if they don't recall the ordeal whatsoever.”

“what.”

“on the usual, whenever a student was caught skipping, they simply owned up to their wrongdoings.” crowley then frowns. “it could be a number of magical dealings, really.”

yuuri pushed through their speechlessness to dig for more details, as there is no way they can solve this off of nothing, but crowley is next to no help. they continue regardless. if he wasn't holding everything that they have to their name over their head, they'd tell him to buzz off.

all they know now is that it probably isn't ruggie. they were suspicious of him for a moment, but the supposed lack of memory doesn't add up. his unique magic did cause the person to think their actions were their own, so they weren't aware they were being controlled, but they don't think he would go through the trouble to control a person long enough for them to be considered missing—even if he could.

they finished the conversation, albeit with some urging from yuuri to stop the momologing, and crowley had finally walked off. he was muttering to himself like an insane man, but that's not their problem. unfortunately, he'd come right back and started to say the same thing almost word for word.

it wasn't as if reality itself bent to whatever was affecting him. the scenery remained the same, the stone path the two stood upon stayed still as ever, and the seven statues, tall and imposing, were there just as they are any other time. even the other students were normal, they continued to walk by as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

the being that may be crowley took half a step closer when there was a pause, where yuuri didn't recite her line.

“is everything alright, prefect?” it speaks, and the voice is perfect. accurate in almost every way… but there's something that's just… off.

inherently, people are frightened by things that mask themselves with humanity—it’s ingrained as if when cavemen were creating fire there was something that was almost human that we needed to be scared of.

they pretend their hands don't shake behind their back as they shake their head.

“no, nothing.” yuuri hopes her tone is even. “what were you saying?”

crowley… then wandered off, but, thankfully, when they looked at grim to see if he had seen that too, he confirmed their suspicions.

they've been cleaning up more than enough problems for the past few months. they’re tired.

tired of being stressed, worried, scared. tired of faking nonchalance when their life could be on the line. tired of carrying the earth like atlus. but, as the prefect, they're supposed to keep the other students in line… or something like that. more importantly, maybe they could squeeze some sort of reward from crowley by finding out who's up to no good before he even gets a clue.

whatever she tells herself her motive is, it doesn't matter when grim is in her arms and she's booking it back to ramshackle. yuuri won't look behind them, because what they don't know won't hurt. the chance that… that thing is still behind them is far too frightening.

while the two were deliberating, grim kept trying to throw jamil under the bus as the culprit. (probably because of grim’s penchant for grudges)

she could see it, though, as it was the tiniest bit similar to what he was doing to kalim… in a way. maybe he got sick of people being around him all the time and started manipulating them to…dissapear. that could be why the students lose their memories.

“not only did he promise that he won't do anything like that again, but what reason could he possibly have?” yuuri is rubbing at their temples.

there'd be nothing to gain. jamil also can't create clones, so it wouldn't explain why there were reports of people seeing double. (that wouldn't explain whatever she saw before)

“i dunno.” grim rubs his furry chin with his tiny little paw. “you need to listen to your overlord, henchman.”

they sigh. cats.

something yuuri hates about crowley is that he likes to appear out of the blue and insert himself into conversations like he'd always been a part of it. while they were arguing with grim about the semantics of them being his minion, crowley came to tell them to find the culprit. (horribly unhelpful. they were still nothing short of stumped.)

they've begrudgingly went with whatever he'd asked them to so far, but this is ridiculous.

“unlike somebody,” yuuri brazenly points at crowley. “i’ve been trying to find out what's going on.”

they sigh, slumping where they sat. “i was trying to be the best prefect i could be, but, alas…” there's a reason they've yet to lose to ace at the card game bullshit, their poker face is immaculate. maybe they should pick up acting.

opening their eyes, they look at the headmage. “if only i had some sort of incentive to work harder. especially after I've dealt with overblot after overb-”

crowley cuts them off, gingerly touching his temple like a headmage was coming in. “fine, okay.” he huffs like they're the best negotiator he's ever dealt with. “find the culprit and i'll let you actually take a day off.”

“a week off.” they barter.

“only because i'm so kind and gracious.”

they'll never get used to the old man blowing air up his own ass.

when crowley begins to describe the person they're meant to find, they started to understand just why he was so willing to agree to their terms.

“someone who never looks the same twice, but always the same soul; with a thousand faces yet none. a beast, a man, or a teapot. look closely and you see the band of black. listen, you shall hear the jingle.”

should've asked for a month.

yuuri hopes this isn't some sort of prank, because this puzzle sucks.

crowley claims to have only heard of this person in passing from a… colleague? the way he spoke of him was far too familiar for the title. they don't even want to know.

it was by dumb luck that coincidentally, grim knew someone by just that description. they managed to somewhat suspend their disbelief—maybe they go-with-the-flow too easily, and too often—while maintaining their weariness. the little bastard likes to overexaggerate his importance, they still hardly believe him.

from what they know about grim, he has no family. he had told them himself that his earliest memory is waking up alone and hungry. as depressing as it is, there's no one he should know outside of people at night raven, so the very idea that he does know who this person may be is nothing but outrageous.

yuuri’s faith in him dropped by the second when the cat started sniffing around like a dog after she agreed to make him a tuna dish she had even never heard of.

ꨄ︎

being a trickster is hard work; like anything that needs effort, it requires many, many skills. you have to be sneaky, and you have to be good at holding in your laughter. you definitely have to be a good actor and improviser, but most important is having the mind of a tactician.

you just so happen to be the best of the best. at least you'd like to say so.

your day by day isn't as exciting as you'd like, but you'll find a remedy eventually. as usual, you were wandering around campus doing as you wished. mostly petty theft of treats and trinkets you wanted—maybe a cool keychain here and a grape juice there—but you were also looking for your next target.

you get bored so, so easily. you've already had your fair share of messing with everyone around you. you've caused trouble so much and so often the majority—or the few who aren't gullible enough to not realize like that ditzy redhead—can easily figure out whenever it's you. it's no fun when it's over quickly, especially because that means you've lost your remarkability. the first time is extraordinary, the second is interesting, the eleventh is ignorable. you don't want to be ignored.

you had been considering finding your favorite victim until you were interrupted.

artemiy artemiyevich pinker—referred to as che'nya more often than not—likes to harass you. you're not sure what you've done to garner his attention, but he pesters you whenever you're caught in his line of sight. it's not often—he's one of the few you like to observe from a distance and you're quite good at not being seen—but it happens enough to be an annoyance. (you want to be admired, seen as a concept so great you're far disconnected from the rest and considered you're untouchable. you wish to be known as grand, not someone to be spoken to willy-nilly.)

today, when one of the classes you share ended, he appeared in front of you. he spoke in a spiral, round and round as he walked around you. it was quite overwhelming; too much che'nya all around you, everywhere, at the same time.

so, yes, for once, you agreed to go with your classmate to bother your rival school. sue you, but you were discombobulated. that's why oftentimes, you avoid che’nya like the plague—you can hardly stand to be close to him without losing control of yourself—but he'd personally asked you to come along with him. you agreed, but you're sure he could tell you were nervous as your face began to melt and warp before you pulled it back together.

you flew over, leisurely, right where he told you to. or, where you think he did.

he's there just as you, timed to the second to match your arrival. you're just glad you weren't late, making him wait would've been a crime. sitting side by side in a treetop, you watch his tail sweep and swish in the wind as he watches the students. you're not too sure what he wants, but you're more than happy just to stare at him—there’s so many little details to see on him.

that is, until you see a little cat run by, followed by a girl wearing a customized uniform for a dorm you're unfamiliar with, then two more students wearing red and white.

if you remember correctly, the last time che’nya tried to bring you to night raven, he had wanted to introduce you to two of his childhood friends. you think the two wore the same style of uniform… probably. (you hadn't gotten to meet them, as you freaked out and accidentally turned into a kettle, but you did get to watch from the shadows as they conversed after you calmed down.)

what's more peculiar is their headmage running after them with much less urgency.

you feel a strike of inspiration. is this what you needed, to be here and see this now to once again find your purpose? you've been stuck within monotony, doing the same few things in the same few places with the same stakes. something a little bit more dangerous might be just what you need…

“hey,” you turn to your classmate, but jump back when you see his irises so close to yours that you could count the bands of color surrounding his pupil. you're sent careening to the grass below because of your teetering, and you barely manage to catch the branch you were sitting on to pull yourself back up.

che’nya just grins, stretching out over the expanse of the wood with a grace that matches with his cat-like appearance. “yes?”

“i was gonna ask what they were up to.” you reply as you grind your teeth, pulling your body weight back up.

“whom?” he dissolves into air before reappearing upright. “the purr-refect and the clowder?”

you're unable to speak again until you're seated as the first few words took too much effort. the cat continues to smile at you, and you watch with unfortunate interest as his head turns curiously to an unnatural degree. you don't know how he's able to do that. you still lack balance when you hum in affirmation.

“no idea.” the single shrug he offers raises your irritation. “what i do know is that the spelldrive competition is in—” he looks at his wrist, “half an hour.” he doesn't wear a watch there.

che'nya is gone once again. you look around you.

“do mew want to watch the matches?” he's on the ground. you float down to follow. always chasing, you are. (why didn't you fly before instead of digging your claws into the wood? how embarrassing.)

“if you want..” you manage to spit out the words without stammering. your hands shake behind your back.

you could melt. it was like a date… or something. the two of you watching the competition together—in public, at that. you could squeal!

the bleachers were packed full of people, and loud. you're not sure how che'nya managed to get the two of you into the VIP section, but when you asked he just laughed and said something unintelligible. cats.

for some unknown reason, the games started a bit late. you may be out of the loop as to what's happening at night raven, but it's very disorganized. nothing like your school.

you were slyly peeking glances at che'nya when he suddenly began to disappear, as he likes to often do, saying he'll get food for you both. he hadn't even asked your preferences. you can't complain. it's always fascinating to watch him go, the way he dissipates like steam into thin air is so unique.

first onto the field were a bunch of people you've never seen. granted, you can only recognize about five students, and you think they're all from the same dorm… maybe. regardless, when the teams take the field, you were expecting to be bored the entire time. you're not one for magical sports—you know more about the analog kind—but you were blown away. you know not if they're any good, but you do know one of the teams had the cutest guy you've ever seen.

he's on the shorter side, at least where you're from, but still around average height. kissed by the sun, he has tanned skin and the most adorable round baby blue eyes—but, that cuteness doesn't interrupt the boyish charm from his expression and playful disposition. he runs across the field like a scamp, hanging upside-down from a flying broom, showing the brown of his roots compared to his blonde hair. the most interesting thing about him is his large, round ears with spots. spotted ears—just like the freckles you manage to see scattered over his nose when he turns while going long to catch the disk they're flinging around.

he's gorgeous.

che'nya walks over—rare for him as he enjoys appearing from thin air to spook whoever's nearby—and you hardly noticed. too busy staring. your face is hot, and not because of the sun.

“artemiy,” you mentally pull yourself together, physically forcing your flesh to stay in an understandable shape.

“call me che'nya,” he huffs. (you didn't catch the annoyed flick of one of his purple ears.)

you ignore his words.

“what's his name?” you point with an urgency, like you will die if you don't immediately know.

“whomst?” his permanent grin stretches, bushy tail swinging playfully. he knows exactly who. you'd be angry if it wasn't endearing how mischievous he can be. he teases you as if you were friends, or something so—gah! there's no time for that!

“artemiy.”

your classmate sighs, shaking his head with resignation.

“that's ruggie,” che’nya tells you as he jerks his head to the side, the best gesture he can manage with his hands full. you take a glance to see what he got, but quickly abandon the idea of eating when he continues to speak.

“you'd know that if you were looking at the huuuge screen over yonder.”

you look from the field—from ruggie—to the jumbotron. you have no idea why, but he's on it. his team is losing horribly, so he couldn't have scored. they must be showing the players. that seems to be correct, as it eventually changes to another student to show his respective name. whatever the case is, you know his name, now.

ruggie bucchi.

you're at night raven more, following that. not too often—you have your own things to do that don't include trespassing—but definitely more than before, as it is now more than zero.

if it came down to it, you would claim that your sudden presence was not for any reason other than devising the perfect trick to play on the headmage. you're collecting intel… and that's it. you just so happen to also follow behind a head of blonde hair.

ruggie isn't one to stay still, so now neither are you. you watch from afar, not from behind walls, but hiding in plain sight.

he does a lot of odd jobs. you've yet to find out why because it's not a topic that commonly comes up in colloquial conversations, but you often hear him berating the rich. a lot of the time, he's dropping little snide comments to that guy whose name you can never remember; the one he seems to trail behind just as you follow him—actually, maybe not. the two are more often than not side by side, rather than how you lurk in the shadows. (envy, sick and unwarranted, curls in your gut.)

sometimes, whenever he's in the underwater dorm working as a waiter, you manage to summon the courage to follow. the multitude of people constantly crowding every inch of available space happens to intimidate you just the slightest—it'd be such a shame to be found out as an imposter so quickly—but you take the face of one of the students to blend in. it's inconvenient, especially when their friends wander over to talk to you, but it's worth it.

it's very cold, yet you hardly mind. not when you watch ruggie flitter about with the most charming grin on his face. you're vaguely aware in the depths of your mind that it's a ‘customer service smile’, but when he's flashing it at you when walking by your table, you have to focus extra hard not to disintegrate.

it's pathetic. you have no time to be a hopeless romantic when you have a headmage to terrorize. oh, you can't help but wonder what could be if you hadn't the need. you could observe your muse forever, watching him walk and talk and breathe. you know his cadence pitch by pitch, how his gait changes per terrain to keep his stride, you're aware of how he breathes extra deeply whenever passing by a food item he can't have as if the scent is the same as the taste.

in the safety of your dorm room, you lie in your bed and squeal. he's gorgeous; so charming that he's unintentionally enchanted you so horribly. too much moe. you're not sure whether or not you'll be able to handle the sight of him without shrinking down to a teapot on the spot.

but you can't keep getting distracted.

there's no time to be wasted it can never be replenished. every waking second has to be spent doing something worthwhile to prove that meaning can be given to something inherently meaningless.

there's been enough hours, days, and years spent doing absolutely nothing. you will be remembered, for good or bad. a mark left on the planet to show that you were—you were there, you were alive, you did something.

you're going big or going home.

two weeks in the future—you had to distance yourself to create the chance of your little crush disappearing—you're infiltrating on a housewarden meeting, just to find the dynamic between them and the headmage. it could be useful information to figure out who may want to be an assistant to your ploy.

you wear a visage that isn't yours, playing the part that is the housewarden of savanaclaw, exhibiting mannerisms you've picked up on from the hours upon hours of watching his bootlicker with hearts in your eyes.

during the meeting, you may’ve been in your head the majority of the time, but you found out some insane information. you were only a little busy staring at the housewarden of the underwater dorm—you found out his name is azul ashengrotto of octavinelle because the meeting was about him.

apparently, he overblotted, and you can hardly believe it. overblots are insanely rare, considered to be naught but a rumor to many. imagine your surprise when you hear that there's been three overblots this school year.

… there's something going on at this school.

it doesn't matter. you don't care.

you're not a detective. they are not your monkeys, nor is this your circus. a mystery is not what you're here for.

headmage crowley tells the conglomerate of housewardens to keep this event along with the others deeply under wraps.

too late for that.

when you return to royal sword academy with a mind full of ideas and a grin on your face, you're stopped by a floating smile as big as yours by the front gates.

“why, hello there. or, here.” che'nya’s face floats by its lonesome before he fully comes into physicality. “anywhere, really.” he's sitting between two pillars, far above where you stand on the bridge.

“artemiy,” you stand up straight like you were a soldier before their sergeant, craning your neck to look at him up high.

he sighs as he rolls off the edge, disappearing before he hits the ground. he reappears by your side. “call me che'nya.”

you try not to avert your eyes, bouncing on your heels with excitement. “i finally got a plan.”

“really, now?” he seems interested. you can't tell if he's patronizing you or not. “i thought you'd never tire of following that hyaenidae boy around.”

you haven't, not yet. you're likely to get back to it sooner than later, not that you're to tell him. it's none of che'nya's business.

“yup,” you shrug, as if you weren't about to jump out of your skin in excitement. “came up with my magnum opus.”

che'nya's smile curves high once again, just like his spiraling tail coiling around your calf. “uehehehe…” he laughs so weirdly. “you fly too high.”

you don't flinch, but your skin starts to warm with fluster like you were a kettle atop a flame. you wonder how often he brushes his tail for it to be as fluffy as it is. cute.

he then begins to fade, purposefully slow like he wanted you to ask him to stay. “you must beware, and remain aware of the ocean.”

your smile drops, falling off your face like mud. you wanted him to ask about your idea, not tell you a riddle and disappear.

you tell yourself it doesn't matter. you don’t care. you're not friends anyway.

it's time to start putting your plan into action.

you start similarly to the scientific method with observation. for about two weeks, you followed him around approximately every few days. not too often—you would assume the headmage would eventually sense you lurking around if you were a constant—but often enough to get helpful intel that you could retain. it was simple.

you try—you really, really do. it's just so hard. not because crowley is hard to find (he's very flamboyant in both speech and looks), or because he's particularly busy (the most he does on an average day is walk around and put his hands on his hips to give a lecture). the difficulty arises because crowley is very, very annoying.

he's minorly amusing to you, but not many more people do anything other than duck away whenever he appears. that could be because the large majority of the student body are rule breakers and don't want to get hit by that whip he carries, but you doubt it. (you don't even think he's allowed to have a whip, but who's gonna stop him? he's the headmage, so he does what he wants, you guess.)

regardless, it's very difficult to gauge his relationship with the student body. how are you supposed to find out which target would give him the most emotional distress if something happened to them if he's not close to any of them? (you'll have to put a pin in that idea.)

following him is easy, except when there’s a familiar face. always around, they're everywhere but nowhere. the prefect is an anomaly that's outside of your understanding. wherever they are is where trouble usually follows. the thing is, she's usually the one handling the problems rather than crowley. you don't really know why he doesn't do much of anything; he has to be more than capable.

on this particular day, you had abandoned the headache to follow the prefect. you're sure crowley won't be doing anything revolutionary in your absence, before you left you watched him polish the frames that hold the paintings of the seven in his office for half an hour, and you didn't care to listen to him sing to himself any longer.

curiosity kills the cat.

whether common or not you've never heard of there being a prefect at night raven before; whether colloquially or officially, nobody has ever even mentioned the title. you're sure people hoping to go there would be itching to have that position, anything to get some sort of power when being a housewarden is available to a select few.

her uniform is unfamiliar, too. she's the only student who wears one like it, so she must be the only one in her dorm. which couldn't be possible as there are only seven.

the prefect is off. she's uncanny. she looks like every other person, hilariously unremarkable in almost every way but she sticks to your mind like gum in hair. you can't get her out of your thoughts, and it's driving you mad. (che'nya would've told you that everyone is mad. you shake your head to shatter the thought.)

you follow her—you were trailing after her like you were one of her sidekicks—for the majority of the day.

you walk behind her on the path featuring their seven, sit a few seats away in every class, lurk from afar during lunch.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

a waste of time, this day is. she's so quiet, often watching and listening instead of participating in what's happening around her. it's pathetic. what's the point of being around people if you wont be? utterly useless.

you were to write her off and put a pin in your investigation at the end of the day. after following her back to her dorm, you were going to return to yours. you just had to know which one she belongs to.

just as the day started, you follow her down the path of their seven. but, suddenly, the headmage cuts her off, and by extension, you.

you slink off to the side, hiding amongst the shadows cast by the trees. eavesdropping is easy when you can be as close as you are now.

“i came to inform you that some of the teachers are complaining that students are going missing.” crowley’s words make your blood freeze.

what you've been doing has been noticed.

how troublesome. you'll have to watch yourself carefully. you're not too worried, though. your tracks have been covered excellently.

“it could be a number of magical dealings, really.” crowley confirms your thoughts, and you grin with self satisfaction. of course they don't have any ideas of a culprit, you're an expert trickster, after all.

they keep talking—or, crowley talks at the prefect for a while until she finally manages to end the conversation. she really doesn't like him. you see; that could be helpful.

you watch, amused as can be, as he spins on his heel and grumbles. what a strange man, saying he's unappreciated while doing nothing that's worthwhile.

you swallow your laugh when his head turns to you. you perfectly mimic the tree you're leaning on, still and unmoving. not a breath, not a sound; undetectable.

yuu urges him to leave, one more time, and he finally returns to the school with a large flourish.

you whisper, muttering words not for anyone's ears but for the magic streaming in your veins with your blood.

you are crowley, as you are everyone but no one.

you step out from behind the treeline and into the sight of the prefect.

time to play.

the newest “student” at night raven college, whom almost always had a fire breathing cat-creature on their shoulder, and couldn’t seem to escape the chaos that is the two Heartslabyul first years.

you.

although magicless, from a different world, and not even in an actual NRC dorm, you seem to fit in perfectly alongside everyone else. not only that, you’re a kind soul who likes giving to others- after all, the community service you did in your world was for a reason.

you’ve been at night raven for only a few days. you had some free time after classes were over, so you wandered around campus. during your aimless wandering, you find yourself outside of the school store, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop. the building looked as inviting as the name- dark and definitely mysterious. you’d heard stuff about the store and this “Mr S” character, but this would be the first time encountering both. with a deep breath, you push open the door to enter the store.

“welcome in, my little imp!” a bright, cheery voice greets from inside the store. in no time, a tall, darker skinned man with intricate facial markings, an interesting outfit with bone accents, and a top hat, is standing right in front of you. you jump, slightly startled.

“didn’t mean to spook you, little imp. I am Sam, the owner of this quaint little store.” Sam introduces with a flourish, making a grand gesture with his arms. “look around! i’m sure you’ll find something you like.” he says, then moves to let you walk around the store.

the building, though looking small, seemed to stretch on forever. rows of shelves lined with mysterious, cryptic, and strange items made up the bulk of the shop. as you walk around, you can hear sam greet someone that just came in. you peek around to look, and see a guy around your age with sandy blond hair and animal ears engaging with sam. you recognize him as Ruggie Bucchi, a second year in Savanaclaw, who serves as the housewarden Leona’s right hand man.

shrugging, you continue looking around, finally picking up a couple odds and ends that seemed interesting and weren’t pricey. when you went to pay, Ruggie was getting his items scanned by Sam. he was purchasing a couple cheap snacks, and when the price came up, he sighed heavily.

“Sam, let me pay you back some other time… i don’t have any money on me right now,” Ruggie frowns, mustering up his best puppy dog eyes.

Sam lifts an eyebrow, “Ruggie, you said that last week. you have to pay.. my friends on the other side won’t like it if you don’t.”

that warning sends a shiver down your spine. you step over to Ruggie and Sam, wallet in hand. “i can cover it, Sam.” you say, smiling up at Ruggie.

It was a small smile. a simple gesture. but that upward curve of your soft lips made Ruggies heart stop. his blue eyes went wide, his cheeks becoming dusted over with a blush. he wondered how soft your lips actually were, how they’d feel against his own….. hold on, what!? what was he thinking? he shook his head to drown the thoughts while you set down more than enough thaumarks to cover both of your guys’ purchases. Items in hand, you leave, gently patting Ruggies shoulder.

“U-uh, i’ll see you later, Sam!” ruggie exclaims hurriedly, grabbing his snacks and running out after you. “hey, wait!” you turn around at the sound of his voice, tilting your head in question.

Ruggie catches up to you, a boyish yet shy grin on his face. “hey, thanks for paying back there. you didn’t have to.”

you laugh a little bit, the sound joyous and warm. it melts ruggies heart. “it’s no problem. i enjoy helping those around me.” you say, reassuring him. he nods, the motion quick and choppy.

“yeah. yeah, that makes sense. i do too.” he stumbles over his words, too focused on you. what was wrong with him? he’s supposed to be this mischievous hyena, a powerful lions right hand man. yet in this moment, standing awkwardly in front of you, he’s a melting mess of emotions. utterly ruined.

and, without your knowledge, utterly yours.

with a small wave, you walk back to the main building of the campus, going to meet with Ace and Deuce. the encounter with Ruggie weighed on your mind, but was a weight you were comfortable with and openly accepting of.

ruggie stood there like a statue, watching as you left. the way you carry yourself and the sway of your body had him completely entranced. it took a bird almost landing on his head for him to finally move.

later, he’s laying in his room, finally free from leona’s endless demands. being free from leona means one thing- he gets to think about you again. he mentally hits himself for not at least getting your Magicam ID. but then again, because he didn’t get anything to communicate with you, he gains a solid enough reason to talk to you again.

as he drifts off to sleep that night, he can’t get this new student out of his head, whom has almost completely rewritten his psyche just with their gentle beauty and giving personality.

he couldn’t wait to see you again.

—————————————

ruggie had worked plenty of jobs before. honestly, if someone offered enough madol, he'd probably find a way to do almost anything. so when you started paying him to help out around ramshackle—fixing things, carrying supplies, running errands, helping grim after one of his many disasters—he didn't think much of it. it was easy money, and you were one of the few people who actually paid him fairly. at least, that was what he thought at first. what ruggie didn't notice was that every now and then, you'd quietly slip a little extra into the envelope. nothing outrageous. just enough that he wouldn't immediately suspect anything. a few extra thaumarks here. a little bonus there. you always figured he worked harder than he let on, and if anyone deserved a little kindness, it was him. besides... maybe you liked seeing the way his face lit up whenever he got paid. maybe a little too much.