(Bangs head against wall yk I told myself. Ok im chilling fr this time I have other stuff I need to work on but NO. Your yearning has impacted me personally so now I'm making it everyone's problem. Here's a random wip/hc I had sitting around. Your greed sickens me, anon, this is all your fault 😒😒😒)
╰┈➤ you with the other nousportists, this doesn't happen in the drabble but you def throw paper balls at the back of phainon's head sometimes, uhhh that's about it, you're not going to believe it but this isn't edited
You, Castorice, and Phainon have a perfect system for taking notes; if one were to miss class for whatever reason (Like Cas's poor immune system or otherwise), then the remaining two will have something prepared for whoever couldn’t make it. The problem is that you all have vastly different note styles that don’t always make sense to each other.
Castorice’s are, unsurprisingly, very neat, organized, and even color coded with the many pens she has, they’re also rather brief, and she utilizes a lot of shorthand when you know she’s fully capable of….. writing very long and detailed. She also tends to doodle a lot and gets distracted that way (amongst her other various musings, her half written prose remains unfinished beyond the space of the margins).
"Cas." You scan through her notes, knowing you’ll have to ask her to translate. "What does the yearning tree have to do with the lecture at all."
“Oh… I…” She starts, the bumbling of her words the consistent signal to a start of a long-winded explanation. “You always pay attention to all the wrong things….”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Your notes are long and well documented, if not a little too long or poorly structured, they explain almost too much, and it’s evident you just start having conversations with yourself to justify the confusing concepts by jotting down every voice that comes to your head trying to make sense of it instead of asking your professor to explain it further.
"Where were you going with this? ‘The system requires us to question our morality in antiquated places to invoke feelings of nostalgia…. Going to need iced coffee later…. Is coffee nostalgic? Need coffee’….” Possibly the most confused he’s ever looked, your friend hands your journal back over to you. “… Was the coffee nostalgic?”
“Huh? I don’t remember writing that.” You shake your head, processing what he said. “…. I think so?”
“Amazing answer to your hypothesis.” Phainon sighs. There’s a tender touch to it, though, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Worry not, I’ll get you more coffee. You’re going to need it to make sense of the rest of this.”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Out of you three, however, Phainon’s remain the best, as there’s (somehow) never anything wrong with them. They’re detailed, straight to the point, and virtually perfect. You accuse him of stealing once or twice, under the impression that there’s no way he didn’t just take these from under Professor Anaxa’s nose or while Hyacine wasn’t looking.
The only thing that gives it away to them being his is the stain of whatever it was he was eating while writing them down. Whether it be the juice of the apple that fell from his chin and onto the paper or the miscellaneous crumbs that clung to the paper, it works better as a signature than his own name would.
“You can tell when I got hungry,” He hums, nibbling on something else, this time while peeking over your shoulder. “Hm… speaking of, with all the stress of the exams, I hope you haven’t been skipping out on eating.” He commits to resting his head on your shoulder and swallowing what was left of his snack. “And you better not try to lie to me. You know I can always tell.”
You pause your transference. “What, like our tummies are telepathic?” Does this explain how he always knows what you’re craving all the time?
“Of course they are.” He responds, matter of fact. “I thought you knew this—Look, you’re hungry right now.”
“No, I’m not—” Your stomach has a wonderful sense of comedic timing, rumbling as if it was coaxed out by his words. From behind you, he pats it gently, nodding before you have the chance to retort.
“Very convincing.” He smiles; you feel spread against your neck. “Perfect timing, I’m still pretty starved myself. I’ll make you something real quick, okay?”
You don’t get to answer. You never do, when Phainon offers, because “no” means “yes” when it comes to him cooking for you, and you gave up a long, long time ago trying to save him the time he clearly doesn’t want saved. Let him put something together. He’s always much happier when he gets to.
(Sometimes, tiny hearts are littered around his notes, and they remain the only deviation of a page otherwise free from scribbles and marks. Perhaps intentional, those smaller details remain undecipherable to you when you hold a light to them late in the night)
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Chat I think my TMA hyperfixation is frying my brain bc my local Esoterics Institute with their 4-year courses and diplomas is starting to look like a very attractive option
might be a freak for this sorry but i love love love writing about teeth in fics its such a juicy thing to include. will noticing and almost fixating on mack’s tooth gap (that widens every time he continues to forget his retainer), mack dreaming of will’s bunny teeth (the front two slightly, but noticeably, longer than the others). i have even more thoughts i won’t share but just think tongue in tooth gap… pick up what im putting down
a teacher at my high school was talking to me about batman stuff back in like early 2025 and she was like “ oh i actually havent read any batman comics.”
i knew this already, because i knew what her tumblr (and therefore her ao3, which she wrote on) was; as one does upon finding out a teacher at their school has an ao3 account, i looked at it and boy howdy was it fanon central.
in that moment, the response that bubbled up was “i know.” i stuffed it down, but i don’t remember what i said instead
(as a fun aside, she has a recognizable art style, so when a post from her popped up organically on my dash i was like huh…wait a minute)
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