#while i might be able to work in as some sort of apprentice figure...

[connormoving]

they r here

you get TWO ! scientist bc ok so the cadaver is an au cadaver jm not getting into it just yet its also to practice drawing him bald. a very scary fact is that he has to be bald for like at least a little while. soo yeah i am still working on avarice in that au it. um. yeha it isnt going well LOL so you get a normal avarice too. also rhese r very wuick and i think its been like A month since i actually drew. not just 4 my map

maybe ill draw them. ome time

[gaytruffonis]

Regulus Black's Patronus

if you hc, something different I totally respect it. I know I've seen a lot of folks pick a lion, with him being named after the brightest star in Leo, but I'd like to give my arguments for why I think that isn't the case. I will be using wizard in a gender neutral sense since the Old Hag didn't want us to have a gender neutral term for magic-user smdh

Firstly, it's very hard to not associate the lion with Gryffindor, and I think that an important part of Regulus as a character is the fact that he is a Slytherin. Our leading Slytherins have this running theme of redemption and forgiveness. Regulus's story was really brought up during Draco's time as a Death Eater apprentice or whatever, when Draco was battling with his morals and his duty and his fear. It was supposed to be this parallel because Regulus was the same age when he was recruited into the Genocide Gang. Like, I cannot stress enough how important it is to his character that he was a Slytherin, he was a Death Eater, he was from an elite pureblooded family who were no strangers to dark arts let me tell you that. He had no reason to question his beliefs, to rock the boat, to step to the Baddest Baddie of the time, especially when I'm sure Regulus knew better than anyone what he was capable. Let's remember that not every Death Eater had a dark mark...but Regulus did. And he did it anyway, knowing he could and would day. He did it like a Slytherin too, using trickery and telling no one. Working in darkness. Kreacher was the only being for over a decade that even knew how he'd really died. Tell me that's not a Slytherin at work smdh. And thank Merlin for his Slytherin work ethic. All this to say I loathe any implication that Regulus should have been in Gryffindor or he would have been in another world. He was a Slytherin AND a good person. That's who Regulus was.

Secondly, I think a very important detail about Regulus is the contrast between him and Sirius. The House of Black is a well-known, established family of pureblooded wizards, predominantly Slytherin to boot. They're the elite, the wealthy, and their family's reputation holds a weight in wizard society. People know who the Blacks are, and Walburga and Orion aren't exactly great parents, if how they deal with Sirius shows us anything. I might be drawing too much from my own experience with a judgmental and strict household of dickhead parents, but while some's reaction to a toxic and strict household was to rebel and fight back and go toe to toe with their parents, like Sirius, I felt I related more to Regulus. Being as perfect as you can, never disagree, figure out how to do what they want before they even ask so they can never get upset and mistreat you. Regulus is obeying where Sirius would break the rules, despite them both being able to acknowledge that the rules are broken and/or wrong. They were too different to be able to understand each other, both attributing the other's reaction to a gluttony for misery. Regulus, to me, represents a person that had their entire life laid out in front of them by his family, and yet his final moment is about choice, his ability to decide for himself what he believes is right and wrong. For me, I feel like him being in Slytherin is important because he would have believed that the Sorting Hat decided for him because he was from the Black family, but we all know that the Sorting Hat gives suggestions more than anything. He chose to be a Slytherin the same way that Sirius chose Gryffindor, but they couldn't understand each other's choices. Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Brothers turned strangers by the hands of Fate, molded by their experiences without any understanding of what the other person was making. It's devastating.

Thirdly, I'm sure you're thinking, "Okay, tough guy. So his patronus isn't a lion! So what is it then?" Honestly, I'll sign on to anyone who has evidence for why. Patronuses actually tell you a decent amount of information about what kind of wizard you're dealing with. I think his would be a fox because the fox embodies a lot of the more positive qualities of a Slytherin: cunning, quick wit, mysterious. There's a playful mischief there, which is what I imagine Regulus has when he starts getting comfortable, smoking weed in Barty Crouch Jr.'s basement, you know what I mean? I also have this really strong headcanon that Regulus and Sirius were very close before Sirius went to Hogwarts, but with Sirius gone and absorbed in his new Gryffindor friends, Regulus spends those two years hanging out with Kreacher and getting deeper in the pureblood propaganda his parents spit out, driving a huge wedge between them...but before all that, I like to imagine that Sirius used to try to comfort and protect Regulus from the shittier parts of their family, and I imagine that he'd open up the big windows and tell Regulus stories using the constellations, something they both grew up connected to by their family's tradition. I think that Sirius would not have paid attention to all the stories though, and I could see him grabbing from whatever stories he could remember. I like to imagine him telling the story of the Fox and the Hound, unlikely friends, that go up against Narcissus, the flower that was obsessed with its own reflection or The Banshee, the angry mother that would scream until your ears bled. Silly stories told slightly different by Sirius's embellishments and stitching in things he'd forgotten. I don't know it's a soft headcanon but apparently strong enough that I am here making this post, advocating for his patronus to be a fox. So. there's that.

All this to say, don't listen to me if you don't want to! Believe whatever you like, none of this is real. I just kinda wanted to organize my thoughts about it because I've been thinking about him for a long time, and I feel very strongly about this...clearly...lmao

[starsweepers]

⭐ / if you got any new ideas, im all ears! (take your time, and no pressure if you aren't able to answer!)

multimuse meme ( not currently accepting, askbox closed! )

general notes for this meme for everyone: my suggestions are merely that! suggestions! and if i do not list someone you are interested in, it does not mean i wouldn't be down, i'm just trying to throw out ideas i've had. always open to further discussions and ideas <3

gunna just. spew a handful of different ideas! i'll definitely not be able to touch everything/every muse but do my best.

jayfeather.

i don't have anything set but tbh giving laila a warrior cats au- OR DAWN. little disabled kitten with blind medicine cat. i bet i could make piper work too, and maybe an au where she's jayfeather's apprentice because she's too skittish to be a true warrior.

balto.

i have just general wolf aus for faith and gray ( while both are technically "magical" wolves, i also totally just play them as normal wolves ). gray would be a bit of a lost/loner, so maybe if he ended up in nome, balto could be a bit of a mentor figure for him, helping him survive and so neither of them are so lonely. meanwhile faith is just. outgoing and friendly, i could see her just coming to bother him on occasion just to be friendly lmao ajksfdl;aj or in balto's "into the wild" verse, faith trying to help him get accepted into her pack or something.

faith would totally adopt/take care of him if he'd let her lol.

stray balto and cat! wrong blog lol.

mittens being a stray in nome and so she and balto having an unusual allyship. lbr, they'd be delightful friends. or lady kind of serving the role of jenna. not fully, and jenna could still totally exist, but lady being more one of the nicer dogs to him like jenna is and not so enamored with steele.

he could be a wolf on berk and maybe befriends ruffnut somehow. she's insane, but she's ultimately good hearted and would help him out without fully being any sort of "owner" to him.

kiara.

extremely loose ideas: faline actually as a gazelle or something and somehow does not become kiara's prey. faith's bunny au similar. bungee... a few pokemon verse possibilities!

jolteon.

faith will adopt him/save him, she would love him forever.

chien-pao.

okay wrong blog but your thing the other day with it and alina. i was just thinking what is chien-pao had a "demon" au like it was a demonic creature kind of like a hellhound and so it and alina kind of work together on occasion, she brings it snacks and they helps her handle demony things sometimes lmao.

spyro.

misty or pipp, with dragons back and opaline defeated, maybe spyro is able to come from where he might have taken refuge or been exploring. and so coming back to find how much equestria has changed and seeing the new life between ponies and all.

dawn has a dragon au, does he want to get bothered by a little, pink dragon lmao

ruffnut or dawn in his h.ttyd au!

tempest.

misty! reformed villains meetup LMAO. okay, very generic plot but maybe misty somehow getting to meet tempest and find some comfort in that one can be good with the right friends and opportunity. though tempest also probably looking at misty like "....you were evil?" jakld;fjsa

sing/zootopia with a number of the muses i mention below with nick/judy!

judy or nick.

faith and faline both have zootopia aus ( can't remember if i've actually put faith's on her page tho- ). misty and pipp ( make them both probably just a regular horse obvs lol ), pipp being a big star that they could be fans of or helping to guard at a show or the like. ( or use judy's mlp verse and pipp and misty could be exploring now that the land has opened up with them ). misty, faline, or faith getting into trouble and needing help... maybe judy learning about faith's missing twin and wondering if she can solve it even though the case is cold.

georgette with nick would be so delightful, but i think i just need to give her a unique species or we can do more the sing universe. nick trying to con her/being like a dodger and georgette just hmmmm :/ at him lmao. lady and judy would be FRIENDS!

another muse i never made an official verse but in anthro things, red is a fox. she could be nick's little protege in crime lol.

haru.

i was thinking that what if haru had been friends with michael ( michael was a big fisherman and loved the ocean/swimming so they could have met through that shared interest ) and so when michael dies, he kind of checks in on piper on occasion as a makeshift older brother figure. maybe wants to help her not be so nervous with the ocean and water again.

also royalty, pokemon, singer, h.ttyd aus... ahhh.

shane.

faith could easily live in pelican town. and she's one of those folks in a small town that is always just. making things and checking in on people. shane would probably find her annoying to a degree i imagine, but she doesn't care and just brings him things for his chickens and him and lot. just a little friendship sort of thing, and maybe if he likes coffee, he's one of the people whose orders she's memorized and kind of just. this young teen just helping keep an eye on him because she loves people so much.

...i've thrown a lot of faith at you wHOOPS LOL.

arthur.

i feel like there's potential for him and laila here, i can give her a good rdr verse i feel like? won't lie, losing some steam here, but laila and arthus just seems interesting.

red joining his gang, mittens could be a kitty that hangs out with him, i feel like i could make a verse with gray in his gang...

merlin.

unicorn lays, princess lays, princess dawn, princess faith, prince gray, mittens... i think him meeting cleo or tor could be intriguing. ...faline? bRENT. wizard bros.

okay i gotta stop, mizz, sorry i mostly and often just blanket listed people rather than full ideas, my brain was melting a bit with all the potential LMAO. and i didn't even get to some of your muses that i'm really interested in like rivet and triangle and shadow and all. bUT HERE'S ONE LONG POST FOR YOU OF JUST. ALL THE THINGS.

@allnostalgic

[terresdebrume]

Ok so Hi, Hello, I hope you're having a great day! I just read your latest fic for the time between us series on ao3 and I found your blog while I was on Aphrodite's tag having a small trip down memory lane lol I just wanted to thank you for this new fic, and also to tell you that I loved it, and that it was a really nice surprise in an otherwise rather boring Sunday. Also, please don't think I was stalking your blog or anything djfshdf, but I saw you made a post about how you hc that Piscies training turns their cosmos into a kind of autoinmmune disease and 👀👀 I'm curious now and would love to hear your thoughts about it if you feel like sharing!

Hi Nonners!

I woke up to your message so yeah, my day is starting pretty well :D

I'm so happy you liked the fic, it's been so long since I updated this series I'm still riding the high of posting tbh xD And btw, stalk my blog as much as you like, that's what I tag (most of) my posts for xD I love seeing people pick a tag on there and just go through it, it always makes me go 'hey friend, I see you!' so really d'ont feel self conscious about it :)

Okay, now on to the headcanon part of the ask, under the cut because it might get long.

So, the thing is that officially, Athena's knights/saints are supposed to be normal people who figured out how to unlock the super special part of their brains, more or less. But normal people don't have poisoned blood, so while figuring out what Aphrodite's deal was, I thought it would be good to figure out how the heck he made that work.

Now I could have said the poison blood was just another cosmos technique like his roses but

It's less angsty

From a Watsonian standpoint it makes no practical sense bc then other knights would be able to sense his cosmos heighten and get advance warning that the poison was coming, which defeats the purpose of Aphrodite's 'you'll be dead before you realize I'm trying to hurt you' MO

So if the toxic blood wasn't a cosmos effect, the easiest way to make it is to essentially treat the Pisces Saint's body like a big syringe, with teeth/nails/blood needles as the needle: just pump the guy full of poison and let him release it through bites in the event that someone gets close enough for it.

However, once you start putting poison into said apprentice's body, you have to have a way for them not to die. So essentially, what I decided happens in the TBU verse is that Pisces apprentice are actually picked out at around 6 months to a year old, and undergo a sort of passive cosmos training, in which they are given manageable doses of poison and their master guides their cosmos to make it inert/ineffective. As they grow up, the doses of poison become bigger, and the filtering of their blood via cosmos becomes an autonomic reflex, like breathing

Which is why, if they stop ingesting poison, their cosmos instead attacks other parts of the blood: viruses and bacteria, yes, but also blood cells and white cells and all the nitty gritty stuff that you want to have enough of for your body to function properly. In practice, I imagine if Aphrodite didn't get his (quite high) daily dose of poison for a while, he would start developing symptoms similar to AIDS (bc of the attack on white cells) and some Red Blood Cells disorders.

The reason I used the term autoimmune disease even though those two examples aren't autoimmune is because it would be a sickness caused by the Saint's body/self rather than something exterior to it.

TL;DR: Back when a friend let me his copies of Lost Canva, Albafica was said to have poisoned blood and the question of how that looked, in practicality, has been poking at my brain ever since :P

[presidentbungus]

Scout has incredible street smarts! While it seems irrelevant in the base dropped in the middle of nowhere, he is invaluable during contract missions located within urban areas.

He can notice an undercover cop in a second, distinguish accents, recognize a scam happening, pinpoint a drug dealer who looks like a sweet old granny and see the signs of some group's terf markings. The team is looking for some local hotshot and they have no leads? Scout runs to the downtown and locates the first bodega/laundromat/bar/gas station/pizza parlor, blends in and befriends some entry-position-apprentice who gives him all the info he needs.

South Boston is the top school in the world for the street-smarts and Scout graduated it with honors.

yep! while scout has resigned himself to the position of “the stupid one” alongside a crowd of extremely talented, socially awkward PhD owners, once somebody finally has the idea that he seems good at talking and drags him along on a mission they figure out pretty quick that holy shit this kid is good at talking.

Engie’s usually the negotiator if they need one at all, mostly because he knows how to say please and thank you when it seems necessary, but he still has sort of a… distrustful aura around him. the accent’s disarming, sure, and does a great job pushing through a crowd of white middle-aged church moms, but it turns out there are a lot of parts where a moderately-wealthy-looking fourty-year-old white man with a little bit of a weird glint in his eyes ain’t really that welcome. so they might send scout in, since he really, really wants to go in and they’re all out of options (unless they want to send sniper, and he’d probably leave the building having bitten at least four people on reflex)—and when he comes back out he’s got everything they need to know, plus some free snacks, plus an invite to some teenage boy’s birthday party.

it turns out that little air of authenticity goes a long way—and the team watches him flip from polite upstanding church-boy cashier to poor sad orphan boy on the streets to egregiously annoying emotional armor-shredding “class clown” in what seems like seconds, and I guess it should occur to someone at some point that he’s spent his entire life figuring out how to blend in places like that and get what he wants.

(everybody would joke he got the ‘good actor’ gene from spy, if it didn’t just make them sad. also, a few people see him effortlessly skating his way person-to-person, molding his conversational targets like putty, and wonder exactly how much of an act he might be putting on back at the base, too.)

addendum: of all the characters he is able to axt in, “suave” or “ladykiller” or anything along those lines is not one of them. please don’t get me wrong. he’s the friendly face you see on the other end of the sidewalk, or the guy you run into at the grocery store that turns towards you and awkwardly tells a whole bunch of jokes in a row and it’s so weirdly pathetic and charming at the same time you can’t help but laugh, but he’s still terrible at romance, and as a matter of fact most things Involving charisma in general. he just takes advantage of that sad wet kitten energy, you know? it works out

[gunpowderdtim]

Talk to me about narratomancy? Just whatever you want to talk about it I'm deathly interested

!!!! Today today i had so many Thoughts. To many. It almost rivals March 2020 thoughts

So

My current running names for the four pillars of Narratomancy are as follows:

Universal Story

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

Story Echoes

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

Each of these refer to VERY different things within the concept of Narratomancy. I will do my best to describe them. I have coined every term here but narratomancy, to which I believe the honor falls to @lucky-sevens

Keep in mind this is 50% theory, 20% headcanon, 30% canon, and that you do not have to agree with me.

Universal Story

Universal Story refers to the story of the universe, not stories in the universe, the story of the universe. In other words, the story of ‘Dr. Carmilla & The Mechanisms’

This section of Narratomancy is a tad more meta than the others, as it does in some form rely on real-world events to define it, as well as having little to no in story inpact on anything. Maki created the mechanisms universe, clear and simple. She founded the band, and hashed out the earliest lore. Dr. Carmilla is the main character of the universe, not of all the stories, but of the universe. Essentially, Universal Story refers to the fact that Doc C is the main character of the universe, and that the mechanisms are her side characters, in the story of the universe. I have taken to viewing it as doc carmilla stuff is the story of the universe, and the mechanisms is a spin off of that. Both are just as canon, but not specifically canon to eachother. Regardless, the universes story is Carmilla, from starting on Terra, to Aurora, through Loreli, into creating The Mechansims, all of that. All of that is the story of The Universe. The Mechanisms backstories are included in this, of course, because they are part of Carmilla's tale, not the other way around. Through this, I conclude that The Mechanisms are a spin off, focusing on the mechs rather than Carmilla. After all, The Mechansisms are a vessel for telling stories, for fleshing out the universe.

Narrative Role Filling/Casting Call

This refers to the mechs penchant for falling into narrative roles similar to troupes that they represent, or basically acting as a crutch for a story to continue. In OUATIS, Jonny acts as The Prince figure in sleeping beauty. He saves Briar. In being The Prince, he allows Snow's forces to attack cole, and win the war. Without that whole escapade, its likely the war would have stretched on years longer, and not have ended as it did.

Or, Ashes as Hades. What do mythological Hades and Ashes have in common? Hades was eaten by his father, Kronos, because there was a prophesy that told Kronos that his children would usurp him as king of the titans. Ashes figured out Mickey was the snitch, Mickey realized beforehand and lead Ashes into a trap. Killing them because he knew that they could ruin him. Basically, a parental figure betrays the child figure due to them knowing the child could ruin/destroy their position of power. As well as, if Ashes were not Hades, the Suits would not have met, and because of that the story of Ulysses Dies At Dawn would not have happened.

Continuing, while I am not nearly as much of an Arthurian legend person as I am a greek mythology person, some quick google searches revealed a similar similarity between Merlin and Brian. Basically, Merlin and the lady of the lake. She was basically his apprentice/a lady he was in love with? She basically betrayed and killed him after learning all out magic from him. Brian brought a priest back to life, only to have the priest betray and kill him. The tying together point here is clearly the "someone you helped betrays and kills you." That or, the fact they are both magical. Beyond this, If Brian were not on Fort Galfridian, Galahad would never have sought out the grail, and the entire plot would not have occurred.

In The Bifrost Incident, the Mechanisms do not take narrative roles in the way they did in prior albums. But this does not exclude them from being vital points in the story, after all, if Ivy were not present Lyf would not have been able to recover the data on the Black Box)

In all of these situations, (barring Jonny as The Prince) the Mechanisms have had some sort of connection point in the Roles they assume, as well as in their roles, changing the story so that it can continue to the ending presented in the albums.

Story Echoes

Story echoes are, to be blatant, simply canon. No argument, no theorizing, just canon. Refers to the fact that in the mechanism's universe stories 'echo' or basically repeat. In Kofi's fiction for HNOC, its shown rather blatantly that there are more Arthurs in this universe than just the one in hnoc.

In those burning instants, he’d feel the weight of it all, and know it was true. The golden age that never came; the city that stood at the dawn of a world instead of in its dying embers. And beyond – to a myriad of Camelots and a thousand thousand Arthurs, unfathomable worlds apart, each different, each fighting the same hopeless battle.

I know there are other examples of this, but they do escape me right now.

Lastly,

Narrative Flow/Narrative Imperative

This one is also directly canon. On the mechanisms blog, this post defines it rather well.

In the ask, the asker asks "...Do you heal injuries at an abnormal rate, or can you not be injured?"

In the reply, it is stated.

It depends on the narrative imperative - sometimes a Mechanism might die for a while, and only come back later when it becomes more fun, other times they’ll just heal/ignore wounds as they take them. It’s not something they can control, but tends to follow a rough logic of whatever works best for the story.

This is just canon, no arguing or stating otherwise. A mechanisms ability to heal depends entirely on what's best for the story.

Other examples in canon where this comes into play would be as follows:

GPTVTMK. In gptvtmk, Jonny's severed head is there. Is talks. It moves. In one of the fictions, it's stated Jonny cannot separate his heart from his body. Therefore, these are contradictory. Under normal circumstances, this would be a plothole. It is not here. Under narratomancy, Jonny was capable of being a severed head due to the fact that that would be best for the story.

OUATIS. Jonny walks through rounds and rounds of bullets.

HNOC. This example is a bit different from the rest, as it is not about a Mechanism. Galahad does something pretty fucking impossible.

And so Galahad stood and walked into the corridor. The guns trained on the preacher and opened fire. 

Say what you want about faith, but it can have powerful effects on those that have it. It can keep you from faltering as the bullets start to slam into you. It can keep you walking as your legs are shot to bloody stumps. It can keep you laughing as your lungs are filled with shrapnel and lead. It can keep you smiling as half your face is blown away. It can keep a man like Galahad standing tall until the guns clicked dry.

It is my belief that this is another example of narrative imperative. Under normal rules, Galahad could never have done this. But his faith, his beleif, kept him going. And that was good for the story.

So. That wraps up my narratomancy ramble for today. hope yall enjoyed.

*EDIT: Nastya does say it's nanobots. My opinion is: it's both. The nanobots are narrative driven <3

[edasnest]

Might you have any Raeda headcanons you'd be willing to share?

Oh shit I didn’t see that you sent this to me until now oh man.

But you better believe I’ve got some Raeda headcanons >:D

[Spoilers for Eda’s Requiem and Knock Knock Knockin on Hooty’s Door! Also a little bit of a character study regarding those eps lol]

Raine is constantly in awe of Eda. Eda’s desire to learn every kind of magic and buck tradition and societal norms sometimes leaves them breathless. When they were young, Raine always admired Eda for the clever pranks she’d pull using different kinds of magic despite being in the potions track. They also admired Eda’s boldness when it came to standing up for herself and her sister.

Eda found Raine to be interesting considering they were in the bard track despite their stage fright, but once Eda watched them perform and saw how they’d lose themself in the music was, no pun intended, magical. They had a fierce grip on Eda’s heart and she didn’t know why; she was fascinated by Raine and made it her goal to be best friends with this oddly shy bard (which she achieved pretty quickly).

After Eda’s curse caused her to unintentionally disable her dad, she was terrified of what it would mean if she was caught off guard like that again. So she started putting up walls. No stressful situations, no hard conversations, no sudden bright lights or loud sounds that she wasn’t the cause of. If she could be in control of her surroundings, she could control the Owl Beast. The elixir she’d discovered that could keep the curse’s side effects at bay helped maintain her sanity and her chill demeanor, but Raine was able to tell she was always slightly on edge. Raine knew about the curse; after Eda had transformed on the Grudgby field the first time everyone had been talking about it, but they didn’t know the extent of it. Everyone just said she’d turned into a monster and then fled; but what kind of monster?? But every time Raine tried to get more information about it, Eda would brush it off and change the subject. It broke their heart watching Eda brush off something that was clearly bothering her, and eventually it all came to a head. She was lying more and more often to Raine and they just couldn’t take it anymore. What happened to their best friend??? Why would she lie to them????? It was maddening and all the frustration and aching in their heart became too much. They needed to focus on something other than Eda. They weren’t nearly as bold as Eda, even after all these years, so they joined the Bard Coven in order to start teaching and building a career for themself. They’d happily welcome Eda back if she’d just tell them what was going on. But it never happened. Burying themself into their work and then, eventually, into the BAtTs helped keep the heartache at bay, but only sometimes.

Eda and Raine caught glimpses of each other as the years passed. They’d spot one another in the market or Raine would see a flash of unmistakable ginger hair dashing around a corner; sometimes they’d hear Eda yelling at some Coven guards and quietly hope she’d make her escape. Eda would occasionally see posters advertising a performance starring Raine; she’d either buy a ticket or sneak in just to listen to them play again. She could never stay for very long though because listening to them play made her heart hurt so much she’d be at risk of turning into the Owl Beast. Raine grabbed one of Eda’s wanted posters and keeps it hidden under some other paperwork in their desk, pulling it out sometimes and going over every detail of the artist’s rendition of her. One day, a new wanted poster came out - this one with a weird skull dog now part of the image and the bounty having increased significantly. Raine would always smirk whenever they saw the new version, although they were alarmed the first time they saw her drawn with all-grey hair. When had that happened? They weren’t that old yet, right??

The day Eda saved the BAtTs and figured out Raine’s secret was maybe the best day Raine had had in years. Their best friend was talking to them again, helping them with their plot. Raine didn’t bother pushing Eda about the last 20 years; their last conversation proved enough that Eda didn’t like it when people pried. But Eda had become not just older, but so much more kind and open. To a degree that sort of shocked Raine. When they asked Eda if she had nothing to lose and Eda took their hand, it was like they’d gone back in time. As if they were both 20 again and daydreaming about a world they’d create for themselves where covens weren’t there to shackle witches down and stage fright didn’t exist; where Eda’s curse never happened and they could stay there on that hill forever.

Eda of course was warring with her own emotions during all of this; she was under the impression that everyone in her life was leaving her again. And not because she was pushing them away this time, but of their own volition. She got her big sister back only for her to go back home to their parents after just a few weeks. She overheard King talk about leaving to find his dad and her apprentice - the first person to ever break down all of Eda’s defenses and show her how to love again - was constantly working on ways to go back to her own home. Eda would be left with Hooty and Owlbert and absolutely nobody else and that hurt so much more than she cared to admit. So when Raine showed up in the town square with their BAtT mask on, using their magic to turn some coven guards into bumbling fools, Eda was a little shell-shocked. The first person to leave her of their own volition was right there in front of her and needed help. So she helped them. And when she became invested in their plots to free wild witches, she felt like she was a teenager again, plotting out pranks with Raine in her secret shortcuts room at Hexside, blushing at every interaction they had because even after all this time, Raine was still Raine. Her Rainstorm. It was like she was starting over, like the last 20 years had faded away, except they hadn’t. Because Luz and King were competing in a race that she needed to be there for. Her past and her present were all different types of painful but finding Raine like this again gave her so much hope! Until she realized she wouldn’t see the end of that race, not if it meant stopping Belos. And she was ready for that, ready for the pain to just stop already, but Raine wouldn’t let her.

Losing Raine again was so much worse the second time. But what they said stayed with her and Eda needed to get back to King and Luz. So when she got back and discovered they’d lost, of course her first thought was to help them. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d just lost. And when King announced that he wasn’t leaving at all, he was legally changing his name? She was “stuck” with him forever? That was too much and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone wasn’t leaving her. In fact he was legally binding himself to her. No one was leaving, at least not any time soon. Eda definitely still cried more that night after King and Luz had gone to bed.

In the future, Eda and Raine agree to start from scratch: Eda explains the curse to them in detail, all the things she’s learned about it over the years and specifically with Luz and King and Hooty’s help. She explains that Lilith was the one that gave it to her to begin with and why (Raine is appalled like???? Raine specifically worked with Lilith in that last year before they had been made head of the Bard Coven?? And Lilith showed maybe irritation at best at the mention of Eda, so like?? What the fuck???). Eda also explains how she’s come to accept the curse as something that’s part of her and the history the Owl Beast has that she got a glimpse of which is super intriguing to Raine. Also Harpy Eda was a thing which was maybe the most surprising part of it all.

Raine in the meantime tells Eda about their time working their way up the ranks of the Bard Coven, how they met each of the BAtTs and recruited them, the façade they had to maintain to stay on track to become the head of the Bard Coven (something that greatly impressed Eda given Raine’s history with being an awkward actor).

Eda introduces Raine to Luz and King to which both of them start shooting rapidfire questions at them and overwhelm them pretty quickly. Eda has to shoo the two away before Raine just bursts out laughing, saying something about how they’re definitely Eda’s kids (all of them blush while Raine is laughing). Luz is just as fascinated with Raine’s Bard magic as Eda was when they first met and the similarities between the two are striking. Raine tells Eda as much later on and Eda begins gushing about what a great apprentice Luz is and everything she’s done during her time on the Boiling Isles.

They fall easily back into dating once they reconnect properly and everything’s calmed down a little - Raine will still be humming a piece they’re working on and suddenly grab Eda and begin dancing to the tune, Eda laughing the whole time and making their heart soar. Eda will still play with Raine’s earring when they’re cuddled up together just chatting. Raine will start asking Eda again for her opinion on musical pieces they’re working on and Eda will make suggestions along with some jokes or snide commentary. They both still love watching the clouds overhead on their hill, sometimes playing music, sometimes just holding hands.

Raine loves watching Eda interact with Luz and King. They love watching how easily Eda loves them and how much she’s changed since they first broke up. Once they’re alone together, in a moment total admiration for how far they’ve come, Raine tells Eda they love her. Eda immediately kisses them and starts crying, repeating Raine’s words back to them and mumbling about how she’ll never let Raine leave ever again.

A canon Non-binary love interest to a main character that uses They/Them pronouns??? In my kids cartoon???? It’s more likely than you think.

Anyways I fucking love Raine and I love how much Eda and Raine love each other and I can’t wait to see what ends up happening with Them™️

[katyspersonal]

Simon the Harrowed for 6, 8, 9 of the headcannon ask list 🙏

(Asks from this ( x ) ask meme)

It took me a long while sorry! I kept forgetting every time :т Under cut because three questions is a crowd sduhfds

6) Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

Simon has a bit of kleptomaniac streak to him. Well, not a bit. He just tends to steal some things from people he likes. It is a habit he developed upon early realising people leave his life too fast and he has nothing to remind him of them left.

He has a bad habit of doing nothing to help himself - doesn't talk about his pain and fears until they spill on their own, doesn't develop healthy habits to heal from psychological traumas sooner, perhaps doesn't even treat his physical wounds properly. Without realising it, he is the type to wait for someone capable and responsible to come and "save" him. In a sad way, this 'helpless' attitude prepared him for his eventual miserable fate in advance! He suffers a lot, but at the same time it is "normal" for him!

His curiosity has always been stronger than his fears, however he developed special exception for anything that has to do with Brador. Simon had anxious awakenings in cold sweat after nightmares about him even long before he knew a darn thing about Fishing Hamlet.

Even hitting his 30s he still never tried dating or had a crush he'd recognise. Ludwig was the closest he got to 'that' feeling but that faded quick as he was too huge, too unattainable figure anyway. When his friends confront him about why they never seen him with anyone he starts mumbling about just being lazy and/or probably having too high standards. This... might juuuust be true. Easily he might need a person who likes showing initiative too much. Very much. You need to be EXTRA persistent to get his heart to do the heart thing already, but it is hard to meet such person while being very shy and quiet.

He is very decent at designing and engineering, didn't need any help to blueprint Bowblade that was eventually crafted by his design. Had it not been for his distaste for firearms, he'd have individually invented enough weapons to rival Powder Kegs! He just takes a single glance at the device and just knows how it works.

Picky eater and likes almost nothing, he will die but NOT eat food that isn't tasty for him, guaranteed to like chocolate, potatoes and bread though. Not any sort of special bakery, just a regular bread. Again, ironically this habit prepared him for how much Yharnam got devastated by famine eventually.

Has frustratingly sharp hearing, especially during night time. He will not be able to sleep if there is at least some sort of noise around because even quiet sounds cut his ears and cause him a headache. You really do not want to sleep anywhere near him, he'll complain you breathe too loudly or something!

8) Made-up connections with other characters that weren’t in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

Sirus (Djura's Apprentice) - @majitek once suggested that they are twin brothers since they share face data and I believe it tbh. They are type of twins that have nothing in common - you know, to the ridiculous point of drawing the 'border' line in their shared room with both sides of it looking like complete opposites XD They tend to have different opinions and might argue about them for literal hours, Simon having preference for quiet stealth weapons and aesthetic of the 'holiness' vs his brother loving noise of explosions and practical weapons is not even their final form. They never had a genuine quarrel though - if one gets ridiculed, another will stick out for him even if he can't agree less. The "/You/ can't bully him, only /I/ can bully him!" kind of deal.

Gratia - I only mentioned it 10000 times yet, but I do think they were friends, needless to mention Simon has Fist of Gratia equipped that he never used! Whereas Simon was laughed at for his bowblade, Gratia was feared for her iron fists and blunt approach, so she did not hesitate to use her imposing presence to ward the "bullies" away from Simon. They get along very well as Simon is neither scared nor repulsed because of her antics (he knows true repulsion is beyond being rude and abrasive, and true fear is beyond just smashing walls with raw physical force). Gratia... well, she doesn't understand half of his smart philosophical ramblings, but she knows he has a good heart and this is what counts. Opposites that balance rather than fight.

Yamamura - Simon instantly spots a person that only pretends to be oblivious in him when Yamamura casually decides to stay and join Healing Church hunters, however he never minds a spy sent by "the League" because he likewise suspects Church is hiding secrets. Yamamura, Simon and Gratia make sort of a detectives team but whereas Yamamura and Simon share a lot in common (troubled world vision, adoration of Ludwig, sentimentality, emotional sensitivity that doesn't promise a very long-lasting hunter, ability to play a fool to win more trust and information...), Gratia sits here and doesn't know what these nerds are on about. However, without her interference these two would end up feeding each others' depression too much -_-'

Caryll - Aunt of Simon and Sirus who was separated from them for most of her life, and who they saught returning in Yharnam after catastrophe in the city they stayed at. Sirus was semi-indifferent but Simon dreamed about reuniting with her. Seemed like it was going to work after they both became staff of Healing Church but unfortunately by that point Caryll had too many secrets to keep, and to keep the distance with the twins for their own safety. She considered it "unfortunate" that as her surgery chipped away from her lifespan she could not even spent these years in warmth of family. But, she knew Simon's curiosity was unstoppable and she was proud of him for that, so she still left secret clues and letters for him to find (preferably after she is gone) that played part in Simon getting further in his research and even deciphering secret behind Clocktower, which she helped to build.

(In the draft, she was their older sister instead, but got a generational level-up in headcanons as I reconsidered some timeline things!)

Brador - Yeah it doesn't really count as 'weren't in canon' but I think it is worth to mention I think they were familiar from long ago. He always gave Simon a bad vibe and he especially disliked that he kept being around Caryll (not aware Brador just kept an extra eye on her so familial feelings don't get her to spill Byrgenwerth's secrets until much later). Simon and Brador kept meeting but there always been a tension; Brador kept dropping hints for Simon to not poke his nose beyond his work and Simon kept being too evasive for Brador to figure out how much of a threat Simon is.

9) Headcanons about their past

Caryll and her older sister, Simon's and Sirus' mother, were born in Yharnam and had ancestry amongst witches of Hemwick; her sister however decided on a more drastic way to disconnect from her "barbaric" roots and moved in neighbouring town altogether. This is where the twins were born and lived, only seeing Caryll sometimes, and then almost never after she enrolled in Byrgenwerth.

Their mother got sick and died yet not even then Caryll could visit - this is how Sirus was done with her, Simon wasn't though, he had a hunch there must be a good reason for such callous gesture. Brothers were left to keep growing with a father that became very negligent after it.

After Byrgenwerth's findings and experiments there was a meteorite shower in the area signifying return of the star Kin and Amygdalas, caused by their rituals, what they were awakening. Whereas Yharnam got barely a shake (and Gehrman even was able to create some weapons from small meteorites), the city where Simon and Sirus were at got destroyed. Their dad could not be found and was presumed dead, so Simon encouraged searching for the only family they still had. He only learned of the reason behind meteorites much, much later though.

When they were little, Sirus was the one making friends with ease but Simon struggled so his brother was his gateway to socialising, taking him for gatherings and introducing him to his squads. Unfortunately, his squads often ended up dumping both Simon and Sirus, and it has a very simple explanation - Sirus' friends always were pretty sketchy, and Simon had a bad habit to uncover their shady antics and "ruin everything". In a way, he has a lifelong history of saving Sirus from bad company by just being himself.

This ended up causing conflict between brothers when Sirus wanted to follow Powder Kegs and become Djura's apprentice, because "When have you EVER got involved with good people?!". Well, just this time, Simon was wrong, he later got to see himself Djura was a nice guy.

[apinklion01]

Going Angst

Day Three: Family

Walker didn’t go far from his post at the prison unless it was for patrols or if a prisoner escaped. He had a very private corner tucked away within the walls which served as his main lair where no other ghost could go.

So any other ghost stood clear when he did venture further out into the Ghost Zone. He liked that they kept their distance. They knew the consequences if they didn’t. He was the only one trying to keep any sense of order down here, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

There were only two occurrences where a ghost didn’t give him respect: the mangy excuse for a werewolf and the Phantom.

The werewolf he could care less for. The ghost was powerful, yes, but Walker knew more about his time in the living realm than the mutt would ever know, and that was all he needed to give him an upper edge when dealing with the furry convict.

The Phantom was another story.

He was a freak even by ghost standards. A spirit boundless from the planes of life and death who moved between them freely thanks to the wrenched machine his family had built within a place called Amity Park.

The teen was impulsive, rash, and even led a prison escape that left Walker and his squadrons beaten up and reinforcing the security measures.

However due to being half ghost, the Phantom remained the sole convict that the warden knew he couldn’t lock up permanently.

But something was odd during the time he talked to the teen.

Walker heard an unusual song in his ears. One he hadn’t heard since his time in the living world. A song from his mother, supposedly handed down from members of her side of the family tree.

That very song kept repeating while he fought the Phantom, and only stopped after he was long gone. 

But why?

Tired of asking himself questions, Walker decided to venture to the Library of Alexandria. The legendary building was open to any in the Ghost Zone so long as you didn’t start any fights that could damage the books and scrolls inside.

Walker didn’t learn everything about ghosts from word of the ear. Prior to dying, he came across a few books teaching him an intermediate amount of how the spectors worked. Their powers, obsessions, weaknesses. While Walker didn’t have access to the more offensive abilities, the knowledge was all he needed to fight such supernatural entities, even beyond his final breath.

He continued building more knowledge by returning to the library. There was a section specifically for new ghosts who wanted to learn about how to handle the afterlife, but also for older ones to learn of rituals, common spells, and caring for their cores.

Walker made his way down the aisle, a young apprentice of a librarian having handed out the book that might have the answers he needed.

His eyes spotted the name of a book: Melbourne’s Guide to a Spectral Entity. It appeared to be far older than anything Walker had read, the spine of the book faded and tearing apart, the threads loose on the covers.

Walker took out the book from the shelf, a few lowly blob ghosts scuttling away to undisturbed places of the library. Prying the book open, he grazed through the pages, the words mostly in Old English, yet he somehow was able to read them.

One page stood out. A ghost and a human side by side, the older being a ghost, a depiction of their core present.

If a ghost dies prior to learning about any future descendants or relatives, a song they hold dear will be heard when they encounter them. The living or dead relatives will not be able to hear the song until the older one speaks the truth. When they do, then the relative will be seen as a true descendant. 

Rediscovering and reuniting is held as sacred to all ghosts. To break the bonds of family is viewed as disgraceful unless done properly. If not, dire consequences may occur to both the living and dead members.

Walker nearly dropped the book. It was impossible. There couldn’t be any connection between the Phantom and him. 

Either the book was speaking blasphemy, or it was some sort of joke that the half ghost conceived. But the boy looked too young to think up such an act.

There was only one ghost who had the answer: the master of time himself.

One doesn’t simply wander into Clockwork’s lair. To some it’s visible occasionally, and to others it doesn’t even appear in the Ghost Zone unless they need his assistance.

Clockwork already had seen a few timelines where Walker would come inside, but didn’t bother to turn around, cleaning up a gear connecting the multiple clocks the building held inside.

“A simple greeting wouldn’t be too much to ask,” He said.

“I need you to show me something,” The warden’s deep voice spoke.

“Do you know what you need to see?” Clockwork answered, drifting down to the place where the ghost stood. He noted in several timelines that the ghost preferred touching the ground, avoiding acting like a ghost during his time in the Ghost Zone for more than half a century.

“I need you to show me a family. Any related descendants of John James Walker,” The ghost narrowed his eyes. It was dangerous to reveal the true name a ghost had prior to dying, but Clockwork had no usage for such knowledge and never told a soul any when they asked. Not even a certain Daniel James Fenton had the privilege.

“As you wish, though I warn you Walker, you may not like what you’ll see.”

Clockwork escorted Walker to an old mirror, where a small clock was inserted on the wooden frame. Nothing was visible on the mirror except both their reflections. A small flick of his wrist to the right, and the hands turned back fast until they were a mere blur. 

Clockwork held his hand out and the clock stopped. In the mirror there were three children running on a farm. One was Will, a red headed boy, the other a brown haired girl named Elizabeth. The third was one he knew Walker recognized: himself. His hair was a dirty blonde color, yet his eyes were a stormy gray.

“Is this you,” Clockwork asked. Walker didn’t respond, stunned at the sight that he thought was all but in his memories.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” He heard his eldest brother shout.

“No fair, you had a head start,” His younger self cried out. Walker tentatively placed a hand on the mirror, the surface flickering like a leaf touching a puddle.

The ghost was silent as he watched the scene play out: a normal game of tag, with not a care in the world.

“Continue forward,” He spoke dryly, and Clockwork obliged.

The clock spun forward, and Clockwork halted it. The scene had changed to the inside of an old house. The sky beyond the windows was a dull gray, the grass in the distance muted green and brown colors.

A woman, Walker’s mother, stands by the door, reading a letter she had long awaited back from the army. Her anxious smile soon faded into disdain, and she muttered a few lines of the telegram to herself before she began to shake her head and cried. Her daughter Elizabeth, who was standing nearby, tries to console her but her words falter, and tears too begin pouring from her eyes.

A young Walker runs down the stairs, looking at both his family members. “Liz, what’s going on?” He asked worryingly.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wet from crying. “Dad,” She began, pausing as she coked up. “He’s not… coming back from the war…”

Clockwork maintained his distance, but saw Walker’s shoulders tense up. He took his hand away from the mirror, placing it inside one of his pockets.

The younger Walker in the mirror appeared confused. “Did he get held back again? Liz, tell me-”

“He’s gone Walker!” Elizabeth shouted before biting her lip. A shaky sigh escaped her mouth. “He’s gone…”

Clockwork turned the clock forward again. Walker didn’t seem to mind.

They paused again. Walker backed away again as the scene unfolded. It was a funeral being held around sunset. His mother appeared older, having begun growing gray hair and crying gently. William and Elizabeth were nearby with their own kids. Clockwork reckoned they were but six years old at the time of the unpleasant event.

“John, you didn’t deserve to go like this,” William spoke solemnly. “If we had known this was going to happen, maybe I’d have tried harder to convince you to tell the army to give you a break.”

“But you were an awful lot like dad,” He continued. “You didn’t want us to get too wrapped up in your troubles. I don’t know how many you had on your hands, ranging from learning I was drafted into the war to getting into the paranormal. All we have left of you are our memories. “

He set down a white lily onto the headstone marked with Walker’s name. 

“I hope you still have them when I meet you on the other side.”

The rest of the funeral played in silence. 

“Why are you showing me this,” Walker spoke, his head hung low.

“Your mother died sometime after your funeral,” Clockwork said quietly. “But her name lives on in one of your living relatives, Maddison. Elizabeth’s granddaughter.”

Walker perked up at the news, his eyes uncertain but wanting answers. “... Show me,” He muttered in slight disbelief.

The scene changed quickly, the hands slowing to a stop inside a modern home. Four figures were present. A woman, presumably Maddison, held a baby in her hands. It was easy to see the reason she was given the name, as she had a resemblance to Walker’s mother.

A man, the father of the baby, stood by, beckoning a smaller child to come forward. This one had reddish hair like her mother’s. The baby looked like it was recently born, their eyes remaining closed.

“Jazz, meet your baby brother,” The father spoke. 

Jazz looked at the baby with big eyes. “He’s small.”

“He’s only a baby Jazz,” Maddie said quietly, her eyes full of nothing but love for her children. “And he’ll need you to be there for him, even if we’re not around. Can you promise me that?”

Jazz gave a tiny nod.

“Here, you can hold him,” Maddie spoke, handing the sleeping child into the other’s hands. Jazz carefully held him. The baby stirred, but didn’t wake up. Jazz gave a smile in awe.

“What’s his name?” Jazz asked.

“We’re giving him a special name,” Jack told her. “One part comes from a relative of your mother’s.”

“I had a great great grandfather who was around long before you or I were born,” Maddie said. “He passed away in a war, but he gave a name to one of my great grandfathers, John James Walker.”

Walker let a faintly audible gasp that Clockwork made out.

“We’re naming him Daniel James Fenton,” Maddie continued. “So he can grow up and be just as good as both of them.”

At that moment, baby Danny started to cry, startling Jazz. Maddie took her younger child back into her arms, rocking him back and forth.

“Shhh, don’t cry sweetie,” she spoke softly. “Shhh. I’m right here, I’ll always be here to protect you, my little Danny.” She began humming a melody Clockwork knew Walker had known his whole life.

Clockwork let the hand return to the present, and the mirror reflected both ghosts.

“So,” Clockwork said, floating over to clean the clock on the mirror. It had been a while since he had done so. “What will you do now?”

Walker didn’t respond for a minute, placing together the pieces in his head. The older ghost counted till the moment where the warden would ask the question.

 “...He doesn’t know anything about this yet, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Clockwork said.

“You better not do any funny business, old man,” Walker muttered, walking toward the exit.

“What do you intend to do,” the time keeper questioned.

Walker stopped at the steps. “My job. I’m the one making any attempt at order. Only something like Pariah Dark could stop me from doing that.”

Clockwork sensed that the ghost had left before glancing at another mirror playing a particular timeline scenario: Danny looking through a scrapbook detailing Maddie’s side of the family tree.

“Fate isn’t kind to you, is it Daniel,” The Master of Time muttered.

[tennessoui]

#18 Prompt: Ohio in Pre-Slash,16/17 year old Anakin has had a crush on his Master for awhile but knows/thinks Obi-Wan would never return his feels. He's almost completely given up and is think about maybe finding a substitute outlet. Then Obi-Wan gets amnesia while they are stranded on an uninhibited planet. Their Locator Beacon only giving off a general area. Obi-Wans amnesia leaves out the Code, and that he's Anakins teacher so the Boy calls him Master so he MUST be Obi-Wans pet/slave.

ahh so i could easily see this going dubcon and smutty and if i were better i might have gone that way too but instead i made some pining fluff but i hope you still like it!!

18. Waking Up With Amnesia (Hurt!Obi-Wan, underage!pining!Anakin, misunderstandings)

Anakin does his level best to land the ship gently, he really does. But he can’t work miracles here, and the locals had damaged their hull quite effectively when they had shot at them as they descended from atmo.

Friendly negotiations, yeah right. When Anakin gets his hands on these guys, he’s gonna show them exactly how friendly Anakin can be. But first he has to make the landing. And then he has to make sure his master is okay. Failure on either of these fronts is not an option.

His master had just gotten up to go to the back to grab their identification. They had been talking, seriously for once and without anger or impatience laced through their words--he’d said he was proud to have him as his padawan, that Anakin had grown into a young man anyone would be fortunate to know.

Anakin had turned to watch his master leave, his shields raised high but his eyes stripped bare. He’d be eighteen in two months. Somehow he’d made it through most of his time as a Padawan already. With his impending adulthood comes the realization that he has no more time for words of anger or scorn, not directed to his master at least. In a few years at most, Obi-Wan would be free of him by all Jedi rules and obligations.

Now more than ever he has to convince his master to want to keep him around. It’s a grueling task, made more difficult by how terribly difficult Anakin had been in the last, say, nine years. What with his pod-racing, his temper, his pride, his stubbornness--his huge and achingly obvious hero worship turned crush on the older Jedi.

But he can’t lose Obi-Wan, can’t even stand the idea of his master leaving him. The idea of missions alone while his master cavorts around the galaxy without hm--with another Padawan?--is absolutely intolerable. No. He has to convince the Jedi to want him as more than a Padawan. To want him as a friend, as a partner.

(In his wildest fantasies, as more than that, too.)

But now, as if the Force has heard his thoughts and is punishing him, the ship is crashing and his master has been hurt somewhere behind him but he can’t check without losing control of the vessel completely. He just has to--land--on this wide stretch--of karking sand.

It’s not his best landing, but they’re on the ground at least. The first thing he does is, of course, throw off his own landing protector and rush to Obi-Wan’s side, pulling his body out of the mangled remains of their ship and into the light and heat of outside. His master is unconscious, but he doesn’t seem to be bleeding terribly nor fatally. Now, and only now, he thanks the Force.

That’s when he notices the startling wet and spreading red across his master’s usually pristine robes.

Never mind, he tells the Force, fumbling with Obi-Wan’s belt in a panic. He needs to treat the wound, which means he needs to see it, which means he needs to get these outer robes off, as well as his master’s inner tunic.

“If I’m ever undressing you again, I swear to the Force you better be cognizant,” he mutters to himself as he rips at the fabric of the thin undershirt. “So many layers and not one of them protects you from debris, how is that fair?” He continues as he pushes Obi-Wan to the side far enough so he can see the man’s bare shoulder and the cut itself. It doesn’t look deep, at least, but it is long, spanning at least Anakin’s entire hand.

How much bacta do they have? Is their distress beacon working? Does Anakin want it to be working? Half of him thinks no, because what if the locals show up to finish them off? Half of him thinks yes, because he’d love to get his hands on the creatures responsible for Obi-Wan’s current state now.

It’s a very un-Jedi thought, but Anakin can’t even feel bad for it. He goes back into the wreckage of their ship--and he knows already he’s going to hear about this from the Council, as if anyone else could have done better--and grabs their first aid kit.

There’s bandages and bacta and that’s the important thing, he reminds himself. He’ll fix up the wound and then worry about why Obi-Wan hasn’t woken up yet.

But. Well. There’s not a great way to patch it up. The only thing he can think of is to give Obi-Wan’s form a solid thing to lean his head against while keeping his lower back pressed against the durasteel. It’s an awkward angle, but any other would result in Obi-Wan getting a face full of sand, and Anakin wouldn’t do that to his worst enemy, let alone his master.

Look. There’s no delicate way to put it. He straddles his lap and brings his head so it can rest on his chest as he works.

Of course this is when Obi-Wan begins to stir. Anakin tightens his hold on him and tries to send feelings of relief and calm through the Force. He needs Obi-Wan to not startle away from him until he finishes putting on the bacta. They can be embarrassed about this later. They’ll laugh about this later.

“You’re fine, Master,” Anakin murmurs at what he decides to take as a garbled word of confusion. “I crashed the ship, you can punish me later.”

Anakin can feel Obi-Wan’s signature spike around him, but he’s too intent on his task to figure out what specifically his master is feeling.

“What--” Obi-Wan mumbles, hand coming up to brace his head.

Anakin leans back as he finishes, tapping gently on Obi-Wan’s cheek until the man lifts his eyes to look at him. They’re dazed and confused.

“Master?” Anakin asks.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “Master?”

Now Anakin’s getting very worried. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he demands.

Obi-Wan blinks. “You’re...not holding up any fingers,” he says, words becoming clearer the longer he talks. “I’m sorry

“Master,” he says slowly. “How are you feeling?” “Confused,” Obi-Wan says. “And...worried. And sick. Why are you calling me that?” “Calling you what, Master?”

“That. Master,” Obi-Wan looks sick just saying the word. Anakin scrambles up off his lap and kneels in the sand in front of him.

Panic clogs at his throat, making it even harder to force words out. “This isn’t a funny joke, Master.”

Now Obi-Wan looks distressed. “I’m not joking!” He looks wildly around and then clutches at his head in pain. “I don’t know who you are. Who I am. And I need you to stop calling me master because it’s making me feel sick to my stomach knowing that apparently I’m the kind of person who owns slaves because I know it’s wrong.”

Anakin blinks. It’s a lot to process. “You don’t remember?” is the first thing he says. He wants to say anything or anyone or perhaps the Jedi Order you’ve been a part of since you were a baby, but instead what comes out is, “Me?”

“I don’t remember myself, how am I supposed to remember you? Did you expect me to?”

Anakin stays quiet because well. Yeah. He hadn’t thought anything could really truly make his master forget him. Not time, not distance, not anything. Looking at Obi-Wan looking at him now without any sort of familiarity feels like all of his worst nightmares coming true.

His master glances down at his half-dressed state and then back to Anakin suspiciously.

It’s a harsh expression without the fond exasperation that usually hovers in the back of Obi-Wan’s eyes when he sees Anakin.

“What were you doing?” Obi-Wan asks him. “Why were you...touching me?”

“Nothing!” Anakin yelps, knowing that is the worst response he could have given. “I mean. I was tending to you, Master.”

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Ah, kark.

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps, looking furious. Anakin wants to explain that he can’t not, that Master is as much as Obi-Wan’s name to him as Padawan is Anakin’s. “You mean to say I’m such a terrible person that I don’t just own a slave but a pleasure slave?”

Anakin thinks he must be blushing to the roots of his hair. “No!” he yells, much louder than he intends. “No, you don’t own me, M--Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan mouths his name as if it’s a new word. Anakin is about to break into hysterical laughter.

“I’m your apprentice,” Anakin forges ahead. “We use Master as a term of respect for our teachers.” He adds, “I was tending to your wound,” just so Obi-Wan doesn’t next think that Anakin was trying to take advantage of him or something. There’s only so many misconceptions he can deal with in one sitting, especially with the amount of panic that’s raging through his brain.

Obi-Wan looks achingly hopeful. Anakin supposes that without the memory of years of emotional suppression training, he’ll be able to see what his master is feeling more easily. He wonders if he could get Obi-Wan to laugh or smile. He’d kill for one unbridled grin from the other man, although there’s nothing joyful about the situation they’re in right now.

“You’re the best man I know, Obi-Wan,” Anakin tells him softly. “I know you don’t remember right now, but I promise you’d never do that to someone. You’re good. And honest and brave and kind and…” he trails off and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as he’s hit with the reminder of everything he stands to lose if Obi-Wan’s memory loss can’t be undone. “We’ll get this fixed. It’s just temporary. I won’t let it be permanent.” He says the last part fiercely and mostly to himself. “I won’t.”

Obi-Wan smiles, just slightly and reaches out a hand. Perhaps his need to comfort a distressed Anakin is simply instinctive. “I believe you,” he whispers back. “I trust you.”

Anakin beams. And then he thinks of something else. For a second, he wonders about whether or not he should ask the question that’s burning up his mind, but he needs to know now that he’s asked himself. “Ma--Obi-Wan, why did you think that I was. Um. A pleasure slave?”

Obi-Wan’s blush is a thing of wonder. It could single-handedly keep them both warm on Hoth itself.

“Because of how we were positioned when we woke up,” Obi-Wan mumbles, burying his face in his hands. “And because you look like that.” The last part is said from behind his fingers.

Some sort of unfamiliar fire lights itself in Anakin’s stomach. “I look like what?” he prompts, barely daring to breathe.

But this Obi-Wan must not remember why he shouldn’t always be straightforward with the truth, especially to Anakin who he’s said he trusts.

(Obi-Wan trusts him!)

“Beautiful,” Obi-Wan says, so hushed and embarrassed that Anakin almost can’t hear it over the sound of his heart beating.

Inappropriately for their current situation, Anakin wants to crow in victory as the flame inside him grows larger.

Obi-Wan trusts him. At least on some level. Instinctively. And a part of him, stripped of his Jedi code and teachings and lifestyle, thinks that Anakin is beautiful.

He puts a name to the burning in his chest. It’s hope.

[silver-renjun]

Cafe 7 Dream: Jisung

Word count: 3,354

Warnings: violence, stabbing 

Read the prologue before reading this!  

You were at the cafe and there was no work for you to do. The dreamies were handling everything on their own, so there was no use for you at the cafe. Bored, you just stared at the boys as they made orders. You wanted to help out, but you knew that disrupting them could mess up their whole flow and cost them a lot of money. Chenle reminded you of that many, many times before. 

The only one that didn’t seem busy was Jisung. He was lounging around, staring at the boys mindlessly, just like you. Jisung caught your eye. It wasn’t usual that you saw him behind the counter. He almost always stayed in the back room, “keeping inventory”. You were suspicious of him. There was no way the cafe had so much stuff that Jisung had to be in the back room all the time. You could tell by the way that Jisung stuttered that he was hiding something back there. Then again, Jisung always stuttered when he talked to you.

Jisung didn’t stay in your vision for long. After a few minutes, he slipped back into the back room. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. You knew that Jisung would be upset if you sneaked in, but you just had to know what was back there. You looked around at the other dreamies. They were all preoccupied, making it the perfect opportunity for you to sneak into the back. You took your chance and creeped into the room.

You were not prepared for what you saw. All of the walls were covered in rows of shelves, each lined with countless bottles. The bottles contained all sorts of liquids, some of which were neon colors. At the center of the room, there was a table set up with beakers and tubes. You were in awe of what looked like a lab behind the cafe. You were going to sneak back out, but Jisung head popped up from behind the table. 

“y/n! What are, uh, you doing here?” Jisung stuttered with a nervous smile. The boy had two bottles with pink liquid in his hands. He tried to hide them behind his back, but had already noticed them.

“Jisung? What is this place? What is all this stuff?” you asked, reaching out to grab a bottle.

“No!” Jisung shouted, causing you to flinch. “Don’t touch anything in here, okay?” He placed the bottles down on the table and held his forehead. “What am I going to do?” he muttered to himself.

“First, you’re going to explain to me what this all is.”

“Okay, so, uh, you know how people love coming to our cafe,” Jisung said while playing with his fingers. “It’s because of this stuff.”

“You’re drugging people?”

“No! No! That’s not it! It’s just that, uh, you’re really not going to believe me.”

“Try me,”  you replied, putting your hands on your hips.

“I’m a wizard, so I make potions. We put love potions in the cafe food so that people will love our cafe.” Jisung noticed your confused face. “If you don’t believe me you can try for yourself.”

You walked over to where Jisung was standing. He quickly grabbed another bottle from under the table and placed it on the table.

“Experience the potion yourself. When it’s effects wear off, I’ll tell you exactly what happened to you without you even telling me anything.” 

You grabbed the potion from the table and drank it. Before you could place the bottle back down, you were transported to another world. You were in a forest and it was snowing. There were 7 little boys running around, screaming in joy as they played a game of tag. Your heart warmed at the precious sight of the dreamies when they were young. You were about to take a step closer, but everything began to fade. You found yourself back in the room with Jisung. 

“You saw your childhood, right? The most precious memory that you’ve ever experienced.” Jisung said. You nodded, not having the heart to say that you saw otherwise.

“It’s an original potion that I made. It took months to develop perfectly,” Jisung said as he returned the bottle to it’s original place. 

Jisung worked on the potion for months, but it seemed like he only tested it on himself. The potion wasn’t the user’s most precious memory, it was Jisung’s. Even though you didn’t see the right image, you were convinced Jisung was telling the truth about magic.  

“What about the other guys?”

“So Mark and Jaemin, they’re normal people. Kind of like you, but more magically aware. Haechan, he hasn’t gained his powers yet. And then Jeno, he’s a water spirit.”

“Makes sense,” you replied. 

“And then Chenle, well, uh,” Jisung began to stutter again. “He’s like super rich and his family is like a super big deal, so he’s not really allowed to tell his powers. Not even to me,” he said, pretending to be disappointed.

“Of course he wouldn’t tell you! You’d blabber it all out!” you joked.

“I don’t blabber any secrets!” Jisung said, trying to defend himself. “And Renjun trusted me with his vision about you so ha!”

“Renjun had a vision about me?” you said raising your eyebrow.

“Shoot,” Jisung said, slapping his forehead. “I’ll just let him explain it.”

Jisung walked back into the front of the cafe and you followed behind him. Renjun was standing behind the counter with the other boys, trying to put up a poster on the wall.

“So Renjun, what’s this about a vision you had?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“Dude, I told you Jisung wouldn’t be able to keep a secret,” Jeno said, laughing. Renjun shook his head in disappointment before looking at you. 

“y/n, do you believe in magic?” Renjun asked.

“You can skip the explanation. I saw everything Jisung had in the back.”

“Okay, so I’m an oracle, so I can see into the future. And I saw your future, and it’s not looking too good. You’re probably going to get attacked,” Renjun said casually, as if it were nothing.  

“Before you get worried y/n, it’s really no big deal. Renjun’s never had an accurate vision before. It’s not like this one’s going to come true,” Chenle said.

“And he was on the floor of a frat house when it came to him, so I wouldn’t worry too much,” Mark added. Renjun slapped Mark on the arm for adding that detail.

“Oh wow, for a second I thought I was going to be special,” you said sarcastically, pretending to be disappointed.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’ll protect you,” Jisung said, joining in on your sarcasm. He threw his arm around your shoulder, rubbed your head, and said, “you’re all safe now y/n.”

The boys laughed and then went back to work. Jisung walked back into the back room, and you followed him, since you had nothing better to do. 

“Hey Jisung, why don’t you give me so potions lessons?” you said. You found a stool in the corner of the room and pulled it up to the table. “It would be good practice for you, too.”

“Who said I needed practice?” Jisung replied. You turned around and got up from the stool, ready to walk out the door. “Hey, wait! I’ll do it!”

You sat back down on the stool and watched Jisung. He started pulling out liquids and dried plants from under the table. There were far too many thing coming out from under the small table, but you figured that magical storage was very efficient.

 “The first lesson is an antidote potion,” Jisung said. He placed in front of you various dried plants, seeds, and a dark green liquid.

“Can’t we start with the love potion,” you complained.

“If you’re trying to seduce someone, you won’t be learning it here,” Jisung said with a smile. “And the antidote potion is the best place to start anyways. If you mess up any other potion, it could kill you. It’s always important to know how to make an antidote.” Jisung handed you a mortar and pestle.

“I have to grind this by hand?” you groaned.

“Unless you have magical abilities, you’d better get used to grinding everything in there. Any questions so far?”

“What is all this stuff?” you asked as you grinded all the dry ingredients.

“Actually, I’m not really sure. I kind of just know the stuff I need. I use my intuition.”

“Oh that’s just great,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“It’s not like it matters anyways. You’re doing a great job,” Jisung said with a smile. “Now it’s time to add the blue liquid. Don’t ask me what it is, I wasn’t paying attention when I learned it.”

You poured the blue liquid in and began to mix it. 

“So what else do you do Jisung? There’s more to being a wizard than just potions, right?”

“Well, potions are my specialty. I can make them back here when I’m alone. There’s nobody yelling at me or telling me to hurry up when I make potions, so it’s pretty therapeutic. I can do spells too, but those take a lot of patience to learn, especially if you try to do them mentally. Spells are so much more pressure.”

“Oh,” you said, looking down at what you had made. “I’m sorry I disturbed your private time.” 

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I like you y/n. I mean, uh, I like being around you.” Jisung quickly went under the desk to get a bottle for you potion, but he was really just trying to avoid eye contact with you. His face was burning up. After Jisung got up, he poured your potion into a bottle and sealed it. He grabbed a permanent marker and wrote on the bottle.

“y/n’s antidote potion,” Jisung said with a smile. “I’ll be sure to make good use out of this.”

“I think the cafe is closing up right now,” you told Jisung. The commotion you could hear between Renjun and Haechan was an obvious sign that it was time for you to leave. 

“Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow y/n,” Jisung replied, waving you off as you walked towards the door. “Or do you prefer apprentice?” 

“I’d go by any name if it meant I could spend time with you,” you said. You were shocked at your own words. You had no idea where that came from. You hurried out before Jisung could question you on your reply.

You spent all your shifts with Jisung. Every day, Jisung had a new set of herbs for you to grind and bottle. You were worried the Chenle might be upset that you weren’t working, but he just smiled and pushed you into the back with Jisung.

“So what are we learning today, Jisung?” you asked as you pulled up the stool.

“Love potions,” Jisung said with a smile.

“You’re finally teaching me how you drug the people in the cafe,” you said teasingly.

“I don’t drug people, y/n. It’s magic. There’s a difference,” Jisung explained. “And were just doing a basic love potion today. Nothing complicated like falling in love with a building.” 

You chucked at Jisung’s response.

“Hey, you have no idea how hard that was for me! You try making people love the cafe when the employees are moody magical beings!” Jisung complained as he grabbed the ingredients for the love potions. He placed an assortment of dried herbs and seeds on the table.

“So what’s the plan here?” you asked.

“You can just take whatever you like. Love potions are based on personal preference. There’s really no wrong answer,” Jisung said as he handed you the mortar and pestle. “Oh wait! I forgot the most important ingredient!”

You watched as Jisung pulled out a bottle with a red liquid inside.

“You can taste it, it’s nothing weird, I promise,” Jisung said as he handed the bottle over to you.

You dipped your finger inside and tasted the mysterious liquid.

“This is tomato juice!” you said with wide eyes. “Your secret ingredient is tomato juice?”

“It’s for the aesthetics. It gives the potion a nice color. And my secret ingredient isn’t tomato juice. I use hot sauce. Tomato juice is a beginner’s ingredient.”

“Hot sauce is not aesthetic Jisung,” you said with a laugh.

“It’s more aesthetic than blood.” Jisung noticed the confused look on your face. “It’s an old practice,” he explained.

You spent the rest of your shift putting together a love potion. Jisung had been right about how difficult it was. Selecting your own ingredients took careful deliberation. You wanted your first love potion to be perfect. After a while, you had put together your first love potion.

“Wow, that looks really good, y/n,” Jisung said with admiration. “Can I try it? You can try mine too.”

“What’s going to happen when we taste it?” you asked. 

“These are pretty weak potions anyways. We’re probably just going to see our crush. It’ll be a basic sensation. It’ll be something you already know.” 

“Let’s do it then,” you said. 

You and Jisung exchanged bottles and took a sip from the potions. You closed your eyes and waited for the potion to settle in. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the same place.

“Nothing happened, Jisung. Did we make them wrong or what?” you asked.

“No y/n. We made them perfectly,” Jisung replied. 

You watched as Jisung crinkled up his nose at what he had just said. You took a second to process what he meant. 

“So that means we, uh,” you started to say. You couldn’t verbalize the next part. 

“Yep,” Jisung said while looking down. Despite liking each other, you and Jisung were highly embarassed by the situation.

“So, um, uh,” you stuttered, trying to find something to say to Jisung.

“Do you want to date me?” Jisung babbled.  

“Yes.” You kept your hands busy with all the ingredients on the table. You still felt too awkward to make eye contact with Jisung. He felt the same way about you. 

“We should head out now,” Jisung said. You followed him out towards the front of the cafe.

The other boys immediately noticed that Jisung was blushing when you two walked out. Neither you nor Jisung were making eye contact with any of them.

“What’s up with you two? Did you two make out in the back or what?” Jaemin said with a smirk.

“No way, Jisung’s too much of a wimp to do that,” Mark replied.

“The probably kissed by accident or something,” Jeno said.

“How do you accidentally kiss someone?” Chenle asked.

“It’s a classic trick Chenle. y/n probably fell on Jisung and-” Renjun started.

“That’s not what happened!” Everyone was shocked by Jisung’s sudden confidence, even Jisung himself. “We’re, uh, dating each other now. That’s all,” Jisung said in a quiet voice.

The dreamies erupted in screams. Haechan started slapping Jisung on the back.

“Look at you, all grown up,” Haechan said with awe. “Be careful back there. The two of you alone in that dark room, it could get wild, Jisung.”

After dating for a while, the teasing subdued from the dreamies. There was always the occasional joke about your potions mixing, but it was expected from the boys. You and Jisung became much more comfortable with one another.

The day of the cafe event had finally rolled around. You didn’t pay much attention to it after Renjun had mentioned it to you, but apparently it was a very big deal to the dreamies. They would be in the presence of a lot more magic than they were used to, so they spending a lot of extra time at the cafe. You tagged along, hoping to help them in any way possible. It had been a long time since you actually contributed to the cafe and not just sit in the back with your boyfriend.

“Hey y/n, can you help me and Jisung in the back right now?” Haechan said.

You followed Haechan into the back room. He locked the door behind you, which was odd. Jisung never did that before. Before you could ask him why he did that, Haechan lunged towards you. He pinned you to the ground and you started to scream.

“Don’t scream y/n, or you’ll end up like your boyfriend over there,” Haechan said with a menacing grin. Haechan turned your head to the side so you could see Jisung. He was sitting in the corner tied up with rope. His mouth was covered with tape.

“What are you doing?” you cried.

“Good question, y/n. You’re just so smart, aren’t you?” Haechan said as he tied up your arms. “You skip lectures so you can go take little potion lessons from your boyfriend. How cute.”

“This is about the lectures? Oh my gosh Haechan, I promise I-” Haechan placed his hand over your mouth.

“Don’t make me tape that beautiful mouth up.” Haechan got to work on tying up your feet. “And it’s something much more different, dear. You see with this high magical energy in the air, I’m at an urge to awaken my powers.”

Haechan stood up and grabbed a knife from the table.

“And there happens to be one potion that’ll do the trick. Your precious boyfriend already started making it. Now I just need the final ingredient,” Haechan said as he leaned over you. “Your blood.”

Haechan pulled the blade through your arms. Blood started to leak out onto your shirt, but you had already passed out. Haechan collected the blood and placed it into the bottle with the other ingredients. He started to take a sip when the bottle shattered. Haechan was enraged. He turned around to see Jisung, who had broken free. 

“You think you can stop me?” Haechan screamed.

Haechan tried to take a step forward, but he had become paralyzed. Jisung was mumbling a spell to himself. Even though he was focusing all his energy on restraining Haechan, Jisung could only think of you. He hurried over to the shelves and grabbed the first healing potion he could find. He opened the bottle and poured the whole thing down your throat. 

“Jisung!” was the first thing you said when you woke up. Jisung was too busy mumbling spells to reply to you. You looked over at the bottle Jisung had given you. It was the first potion you had made. You picked up the bottle and at the same time, Jisung stopped mumbling and pulled you into a hug. You felt warm in his embrace, but you became worried.

“What about Haechan?” you asked as you pulled away from the hug.

“He’s in paralysis. His body is transforming right now, so he’s especially dangerous. I put a spell on him so he won’t hurt us right now.”

You had no words for how grateful you were. You pulled him into a hug again.

“y/n, I’m really sorry I couldn’t protect you. You got hurt because of me. I should have never even started making that-”

You put your finger over his lips. You didn’t want the moment to be ruined. There would be a lot of explaining and apologizing to be done, but at that moment you just wanted to be in the arms of your boyfriend. 

Select another route

[prismatica-the-strange]

You literally just wanna grab Daniels ass that’s the prompt

I absolutely love this prompt! I can't stop thinking about that glorious ass! Thank you anon!

18+ only! Minors do not Interact!

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Self harm, the reader's judgment is impaired and they impulsively cut themselves with a scalpel.

A very hands on episode today folks! 😘 I took an idea I had and kinda added it to the prompt

You were off world with another team, SG-6, testing your latest robotics design when you were stung by some sort of bee or insect. Your arm hurt like hell and you started getting light headed, so SG-6 cut the mission short to get you back to Fraiser back on Earth.

After a day or so the pain went away and the swelling went down.

When Daniel got back from his mission with SG-1 and he heard about what happened he was by your side immediately. That's when it started.

While Fraiser was finishing up his post mission check up, you wanted to snuggle into him. So you did.

He looked over at you when you reached out and wrap your arms around him. You hadn't seen each other in a few days so he didn't question it. He just pulled you close by your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

Once Fraiser gave you the all clear you went back to business as usual.

But something wasn't right. You had the hardest time fighting little urges and intrusive ideas. Especially around Daniel.

He came to your lab and was taken aback when you immediately hug his torso. You couldn't help yourself. You tried, but you couldn't stop yourself from reaching down and grabbing his ass with both hands.

"Whoa!" He jumped back, but you pulled him close again, giggling.

"W-what're you doing there?" He asked, unsure of what to do. For a moment you don't know what to do either. Pull him into a kiss or squeeze his ass?

Your hands move to grip the back of his neck and you pull him into a deep kiss, before reaching down and firmly squeezing his ass.

His eyes go wide.

"Wow. Ok, Y/n?" He says against your lips, "Y/n?"

His hands are on your shoulders while he lightly pushes you back. You whine and tug on the lapels of his jacket.

"What's going on?" He asks, taking your hands in his.

"What do you mean?" You try to pull him close again.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, "You don't usually try to jump me at work like this."

He sees your eyes light up when he says that.

"That sounds fun!" You grin, pulling your hands from his and going for his belt.

"Hey! No, no, no!" He chuckles nervously, grasping your hands and quickly looking about the room, "That wasn't a suggestion."

The heat of your hands in his just makes you want to hold him more and before you can even think about it, your body moves on it's own. Your arms move around his neck and you cuddle into him.

"You're burning up," he says, his cheek on your forehead.

"Just wanna hold you." You mutter and his confusion grows as he puts his arms around you.

"It seems they're losing the ability to think before they act," Fraiser explains. "I think it may have something to do with the insect that stung them."

"Is there any way to reverse the effect?" Hammond asked from next to Daniel. They watched you stand up and start walking around the room.

"As of now? No," she sighs, "Right now all we can do is help keep their fever down and try to keep them out of any trouble their impulsive behavior might-"

"Ow! Shit!"

The eyes of everyone in the room are on you as the scalpel clatters to the ground and blood starts to pour from the cut on your palm.

Fraiser rushes over and starts to take take care of it.

Daniel insists on staying with you, right by your side after that, to act as your voice of reason. But everyone can tell it's just because he's extremely worried.

They keep you both in an isolation room while they try to figure it out.

And poor Daniel has such a hard time keeping you off him. Especially when you whine his name like that. Oh god it hurts his heart.

He himself only has so much self control when it comes to you and he almost finds it amusing how your roles have switched. But you're almost unbearable with the way you kiss him and try to drag him to the bed in the corner.

He knows his lips are going to be chapped by by the end of the day.

O'Neill throws a few teasing jabs at him through the rooms comms, and he nearly loses it when you tell the colonel to go fuck himself.

"Daniel?" He looks at you on the bed from where he leans against the cement wall, "'M tired."

His eyes shift to your outstretched hand.

"I want cuddles." When he hesitates, "Please?"

How the hell is he supposed to say no when you ask him in such a sleepy voice? Maybe Carter should have been your voice of reason, because he really sucks at not giving in to you.

It doesn't take long before he's sat in bed with you, arms wrapped firmly around your body. You pull him in for a sleepy kiss before you nuzzle your face into his neck and fall asleep.

His heart is pounding in his chest. He loves you so damn much. His face in your hair, kissing the top of your head, and your feverish skin against his.

Doc Fraiser comes in a couple hours later and she tells him the effects should wear off in a day or so.

"Another day?" He almost sounds panicked. He definitely can't take another 24 hours of this, he might literally combust.

He switches off with Teal'c before you wake up. That part is imperative. If you woke up and asked him to stay in your tired morning voice he wouldn't be able to leave.

The next day is rather uneventful. The insect's venom wears off and you come out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed.

O'Neill will absolutely tease you about this for ages.

Taglist: @mysg1spacemonkey @sgcprometheus @i-am-morrigans-apprentice @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @witching-things

Masterlist

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

   “Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

[ganymedesclock]

I would love to hear about Taylor for the powers pspsps thing!

Taylor's powers are arguably very central to the conceit they're in, since I was thinking (as is my vast entertainment) about the rpg format established by things like dragon quest and final fantasy, and how it regards both its heroes, and its final bosses. In particular, a big part of Taylor is they're actually designed to be an inversion of a silent protagonist- I wanted them to be a strongly self-motivated character.

I also made them a healer, which, as I said a bit in my last post, I think healer characters get a bit of a rough shake in that they're often seen as just Nice, Unthreatening, Goodie Goods, which admittedly does make some sense because when you remove abstractions from magical healing you get some questions about like... basically arcane flesh-sculpting, and if you meet someone who can cast spell of bend your organs, you really hope they're on the level.

Taylor's powers are very strongly associated heavily with red thread. Their name is, admittedly, a pun- they are literally a tailor's apprentice as the story starts- and much of their motivation through the story is feeling compelled to try and fix, or tend, to 'abandoned, wounded things'. All of their party members- and themselves- have significant problems, wounds and trauma. I used red because it's a traditionally villainous color, often contrasted against a heroic blue (while I have not drawn them yet, the antagonistic royal couple is heavily blues and whites)

Part of this is deliberately invoking the superstition of the 'thread of fate', and the idea of a destiny bond with my own personal spin, that I don't think we're actually fated to anyone as much as we weave our own threads towards others. This kind of tied into that Taylor, as a person from a small community on an island with a very bleak climate, has a strong personal work ethic and relationship with handcrafts, that they tie directly to taking care of others. If they make a shirt or a baby blanket for someone, odds are very good they know exactly who's going to wear it, and might personally involve things they think suits that person, or that they like.

Much of Taylor's conflicts in the story are about being ripped away from other people, and trying to mend that inciting tear. Their sense of identity, community, and their life ambitions were all cut away. Many times, stories court the idea of the destroyed town, but they make it so that the hero was a foundling with a greater destiny somewhere else, or otherwise leaves it behind and mostly forgets about it, comes to connect with other places instead- as a kind of fantastical, "imagine if you could just leave your boring life that you kind of take for granted and go somewhere else, and yeah you'd be sad if that life burned, but think about how much else you could do-!"

Taylor as a protagonist is a person all about attachment and connection, so, even if their village is fine, being taken from it and lost in another country is actually deeply upsetting to them. It's a huge loss of identity. And that sense of holding and mending ties in well to their undead nature. The human skeleton.... is not supposed to sit together on its own. It's sewn together at many points by ligaments and sinews- so Taylor, as a being completely stripped of flesh, literally has to use their power to hold themselves together. The exposed threads on places like their jawbone, and the slightly ramshackle nature of their glamour as they start to pull it together, kind of deliberately evoke that stress for me- their stability is something they have to keep working on. Like only having one shirt with a stubborn rip in it- mending it will have to happen multiple times, and getting new pieces of fabric or trying new methods to help it stay.

But in a more positive sense, this also talks about how Taylor is actually a very magnetic person. They forge connections with people, and where their vulnerabilities may not always be enough to hold themselves together, those connections they've made to other people are able to save them in vital situations.

This actually comes back to that Taylor is associated with the water element- specifically, they're associated with blood. Blood is a potent symbol, and overt blood magic is a very 'bad guy' domain, but when you think about it, we've long used blood as a symbol of devotion and connection. Sworn brothers-in-arms sharing blood, a "blood oath"- or even in a scary sense, deals with the devil that are binding if they take our lifeblood. Taylor moving from life to undeath devours a useful reservoir they have of themselves- in line with the certainty and confidence they used to have- and while they cannot ever be unmarked by this, they will become able to build a new reservoir of self, identity, and blood, through the connections they have with others and a sort of symbolic transfusion in that sense. The red threads, in this sense, are an easy shorthand for veins, and at times might even take that form directly or emulate them.

It kind of ties in to how another very common "bad guy" trope is viscera, a sense of organic, seething life, life where it shouldn't be- which I've always found interesting when conflicts are often framed as life against death as a one to one with good against evil.

But at the same time, everyone knows that it's the bad guys who pull corpses out of the soil with new vitality, while the good guys can immolate those zombies with scathing force and resurrect their own bloodlessly and prettily.

(Yes, it's because we see in zombies a specter of death and decay, graves dishonored, and such; I'm not saying there aren't reasons for it, but I think that you could just as easily argue the opposite- that perhaps the stuff of darkness is the stuff of life)

Other than the nature and aesthetics of their powers, Taylor has a pretty classic goody two-shoes kind of mechanical 'class'- they play very much like a final fantasy Paladin who balances healing and defense with solid, reliable damage output. A condition Taylor has that's shared by many other characters in their setting is this sense of burnout and the need to maintain a reservoir- Taylor has to balance spending symbolic blood to attack, and keeping enough of it in their body to hold together in both a literal and figurative sense. As a valiant and noble person, they are dangerously inclined to pushing to their limits or waxing too sacrificial- they want to take care of everyone, and sometimes that means there's not enough left to take care of themselves.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 11: Cracks in the Surface

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4075

Warnings: None

A/N: We gettin closer to the coronation babyyyyyyy! As always, comments are appreciated! If you wanna reach out and talk or invade my inbox as well you are more than welcome to!

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Solomon had never cooked by himself before.

Solomon had never been in a kitchen before.

When you were royalty you didn't need to cook for yourself, you had people to do it for you. So here he stood, in the kitchen, when no one else was around, staring down the vastness in front of him. He clapped his hands, illuminating the kitchen and grabbed the first pot he saw.

Cooking couldn't be that hard right? All you had to do was mix some things into a pot and hold them over a fire. Easy.

Rummaging through the cupboards and pantry was an interesting adventure. Solomon was familiar with some of the foods and spices, but others were completely foreign to him. He did manage to find the beef which he grabbed in two handfuls to throw into the pot. Surely that was enough right? Now that his hands were sufficiently covered in residue, he went towards the vegetables and spices.

Honestly, this cooking this was rather fun. Perhaps he could start doing it more often. It might give him more points with his new family. He could be alone with his thoughts and the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board below him.

Which reminded him, he needed to find a blacksmith. Surely there must be one in the main hub.

Solomon only added water when he realized that the food may burn after it sat in the pot for a while. It tasted fine from what he could tell, and he was contemplating eating some of the food when he heard someone come down the steps.

"What are you doing?" Asmodeus asked, gracefully descending the staircase into the kitchen, "It's so late."

"I could be asking you the same question," Solomon smiled, lifting a bit of his creation to his mouth with a ladle.

"I was actually on my way to see you, but I wanted to check to make sure Beel wasn't about to sneak anything from my wedding."

"Our wedding."

"You're acknowledging it's yours now?" Asmo's voice came out a bit shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Of course, it is ours is it not? As for what I'm doing, I figured I'd try my hand at cooking to earn a little more favor with your family," he turned back to the pot, stirring it a little more, and scratching along the bottom to unstick some of the food.

As he did so, Asmo's slender arms snaked around his waist and his head rested gently on his shoulder. It wasn't like his vice grip grasps in the past. Thus one was gentle and, dare Solomon say, fond. His old self would be surprised to see himself relaxing into Asmo. His old self would have never pictured him this comfortable in another's grasp.

"It is ours," Asmo said softly, gently squeezing Solomon's waist. Solomon found his free hand moving downward to squeeze one of Asmo's. Slowly he brought the ladle from his pot up to Asmo's mouth, and his pretty lips opened to accept his offer.

Then he started sputtering. Arms quickly let go of Solomon's waist as Asmo turned away from him.

Solomon turned quickly on his heel to pat Asmo's back, "Did you choke?"

Yes, it was a dumb question. He realized that as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course he was choking. Was he really that poor at social interactions? He was a scholar, a great king, an incredibly intelligent man, and all he could come up with was 'Are you choking?'.

Spoken like a true gentleman. One that fell face first down a mountain only to be attacked by wild beasts that is.

"No," Asmo weezed, "What the hell did you do?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Solomon, darling, are you trying to poison my family?" he gestured towards the pot with disdain and attempted to right himself, "That is nowhere near edible! Did you eat that?"

Solomon blinked a few times, staring at Asmo as he pulled away, glaring up at him. He wasn't really sure how to respond. Surely it wasn't that bad. "I did, are you sure you're not overreacting a little bit?" he asked.

"Over-? No! Are you serious? You ate it?" Asmo gasped, grabbing at his arm, "I'm not even sure the meat is cooked through properly! Well now I'll have to stay with you for the night and take you to one of our healers!"

"But I feel fine," Solomon frowned, as Asmo tugged on him, "Why were you looking for me this late anyways?"

Asmo stopped for a moment before letting go of him in favor of cleaning out his pot instead. "Well, I was hoping I might be able to spend some time with you. I've heard your sleep schedule is terrible and I figured I could visit your chambers."

Solomon moved closer so that their bodies were inches from each other, "That still doesn't explain to me what you want."

"Well I couldn't sleep," his voice came out in a similar fashion as when Azazel spoke to him. It set off small alarms in his mind.

What had he gone through?

"And I figured that perhaps I could-?"

"Something tells me your brother wouldn't be too happy with that," Solomon said, leaning against the counter on the other side of him. Their rooming situation hadn't changed from when Solomon first arrived till now, and he figured with how protective Lucifer was of his brothers that it wouldn't until either after the two of them were joined or until Lucifer trusted him. The latter was a long shot and, at the moment, seemed like it would take more time than what Solomon possessed in a lifetime.

Asmodeus frowned. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to think of an excuse that might work, but the longer he thought about it the more he realized that he was right. "He wouldn't have to know," he tried to reason, "Diavolo might be able to talk him down."

"And if he can't?"

"Don't think about it."

Solomon could have laughed. Stubborn was a good word to describe Asmodeus. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't going to give up easily. In that way, the two of them were similar. He couldn't even be mad when he felt himself give in.

"Alright then," as he spoke, Asmo perked up, "What is it that you wanted to do?"

"I wanted you to hold me," Asmodeus responded quickly, "I just, want you to touch me, just for a little bit. So perhaps you could come back to my room with me?"

Asmo went to grab his hand once more and gently tugged him towards him. His fingers brushed against the silky, flowy fabric of Asmo's night attire.

Solomon allowed him to tug him towards the staircase and down into the caverns. Asmo's room wasn't what he'd been expecting. Flowers and vines neatly crawled up his bed and to his canopy. Moonlight seeped into the room, illuminating bits of the bed and the floor. He stripped himself of his shirt, realizing that it had gotten a little dirty in the process of his cooking adventures, and slung it over the chair in front of Asmo's bureau.

When he looked up, he saw that Asmo's eyes were on him, tracing every line on his body. "You have a lot of markings," he commented, lounging on his mattress. He shifted a bit as Solomon settled next to him and once more let Asmo pull him closer. "Do they mean anything?"

Solomon waited for Asmo to cling to him first before touching him. He probably wouldn't be heading back to his room tonight, not with the way Asmo was clinging to him. It was almost like he was afraid Solomon would disappear if he let go. So, he slung his arm over the smooth curve of Asmo's hip. "They're runes. Ones that I've found interesting from books I've read."

"There's so many of them."

Solomon shuddered as Asmo slowly traced along one of the inked paths. It reminded Solomon of how he traced the runes back in the cavern. His own hands wandered up and down Asmodeus' back and along his hip, encouraging him to snuggle closer.

Warmth.

It was the only thing he could think of. It spread from his core and along every spot Asmodeus touched him. He swore he was in some sort of trance.

"You're always so cold," Asmodeus murmured, "I don't understand why, you're always wearing long sleeves. I thought you'd be warm."

"You're always warm," Solomon yawned, "And soft. It's very calming." He felt Asmo's hands trail from his chest, over his shoulders, and to his back and his long lashes fluttered against him. He flushed, feeling a bit hotter than normal.

Crickets chirped outside and the occasional hoot of an owl resounded in the distance.

"This is nice," Asmo murmured.

It was nice.

***

"Did he say how long it would take to get done?"

Simeon and Luke had both accompanied him into town. Luke trotted behind, scurridly writing down time stamps and what had been done at those times.

"Hopefully not too long," Solomon twisted a ring on his finger, "I'd really like to get it to him as soon as I can. Before the coronation, preferably."

If the universe would have the smallest bit of pitty on him, he would be able to present Asmo with the gift under the stars a few nights from now. It would be a proper way to give it to him, and an acceptable form of an apology. He just needed things to go smoothly.

Simeon kept his stride, not even daring to fall behind him. He could feel him analyzing him, looking over his motions in order to come to a conclusion. "I think he'll enjoy it."

How did he always know?

"How are you holding up back there Luke?" Simeon turned his head to look at his apprentice.

"I would like to slow down, it's hard to write and walk!"

"And that is why you're practicing now."

Luke huffed under his breath and Simeon craned his neck to look over the notes. He always enjoyed seeing where he could offer praise and note where he could improve. Solomon realized that Simeon had been doing nearly the exact same thing to him here in Arcadia. Had he intended to coach Solomon on how to be a good husband?

Sneaky.

Solomon sat down on the steps of the palace, not quite ready to return inside. It had been a while since he just enjoyed the sunshine, and the weather was perfect. New days, new beginnings. It felt as if he’d had two new beginnings since being here, and he was sure these wouldn’t be his last.

Soft warm hands laid over his eyes, and soft breath caressed his ear, “Guess who.”

Luke made a retching noise as Solomon reached for his hands, “Asmodeus of course. Those hands would be hard to not recognize.”

Laughter surrounded him as Asmodeus moved to sit next to him. He set a few pictures down in his lap. Simeon patted his shoulder as he passed them. He wouldn’t stick around when Asmo came and take time away from the two of them bonding, especially not when they’d been getting along rather well recently.

“Mammon said he saw you heading out to the market this morning, so I waited for you to come back.”

Oh his smile was contagious.

“I wasn’t even aware he saw me,” Solomon said, not minding when Asmo decided to scoot a little closer, “What had you waiting for me to come back?”

“I’d always wait for you to come back,” Asmo leaned in and his soft lips brushed against Solomon’s cheek, “But, I did want to show you my attire for our wedding.” He fingered through the papers on his lap, pulling out one from the center of the pile. It wasn’t quite a suit, but it wasn’t a dress either. It was pretty, and Solomon caught himself slipping into thoughts of how lovely it would look on him.

“I based it off my mother’s dress, I remember that I used to love looking at it.” Solomon had never heard Asmo sound so whimsical. He was somewhere else, and Solomon wasn't entirely sure where he went.

"I've never heard you talk about your mother before."

Asmo's eyes lit up, "Oh she was wonderful. She's the one who taught me how to sing. Don't tell my brothers, but I think she was the best mother."

"You all had different mothers?"

"Well, for the most part. Lucifer and Satan shared one, she was the queen, and then the twins and Lilith shared one," Asmodeus traced his wedding attire as he spoke, carefully and ever so precisely, "I don't think any of them got along well, each of them wanted us to be father's favorite even if Lucifer was the crown prince. But they only stayed in our lives up to a certain point, if they hadn't died in childbirth."

Solomon remembered his mother and his father. They'd both done their jobs and molded him into the ruler he was supposed to be, but he hadn't been ripped from them by another person. "I'm sorry."

It was all he could say, and he hated it.

"It's nothing you had any control over. At least I have memories."

He'd been so excited to show Solomon his plans and to continue their planning, but now the mood was completely changed. With hesitant motions, Solomon reached over to touch his hands, "What do you remember?"

"Her voice," Asmo started, "And the way she held me when she sang me to sleep at night. I remember her taking me to see when the twins and Lilith were born. I remember her explaining that Belphie was sick. I used to always want to help take care of him, and I still do even if doesn't want much to do with me as of late. I also remember how she used to kiss my forehead and tell me how everything would be okay. That I was perfect, no matter what father said"

Asmo sunk into Solomon, looking down at his lap as they sat together. Asmo played with his hand, flipping it around in his own, training along his fingers, and squeezing. "I miss being touched like that, feeling safe in someone else's arms."

Was he meant to hear that? Solomon almost missed his words. Carefully, he slipped the papers out from under Asmo's hand and looked over the designs. "I bet she would have loved to see you in this. I didn't know her, but I think she'd be proud."

Asmodeus squeezed his hand a little tighter and it made Solomon relax. The words had felt awkward tumbling from his lips. But luckily it seemed like he'd said the right thing. "If yours looks this wonderful, I'm excited to see what mine will look like," he continued.

***

They weren't the only two scrambling to get preparations done. Servants were running inside and out decorating the palace for Lucifer's coronation, under Barbatos' watchful eye. He'd been seeing more and more of the crowned prince's stressed expression as he, Diavolo, and Azazel had been spending much of their time in the main hall. Azazel had assured him in passing that they would still have time for their regularly scheduled meetings, but they hadn't been lingering on Solomon's mind as of late.

He had other things to focus on.

He also had some internal things to sort out.

His opinions and feelings surrounding Asmodeus had started to change. That much was evident. Yes, he was still high energy and hard to keep up with at times, but he was also incredibly kind hearted. Solomon had always been physically attracted to him, that hadn’t changed. Something else had started to bubble up inside of him though. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to him. It started in his core and spread up into his cheeks and made his chest tighten.

He didn’t dislike it, but it was a new feeling, one that reminded him of how Asmodeus felt.

“Mammon, sit still.” Azazel’s voice was harsh, but the sound of the wooden rod swishing at Mammon’s shins was harsher. He yelped and pulled his legs out of the way and straightened his posture. All of them had been lined up in the main hall. Despite having his own seat, Azazel was wandering up and down the row, eyeing up each of them. As soon as Mammon had been reprimanded, he couldn’t help but note how Levi had scrambled to fix his own posture. The room was tense, and Solomon was trying to keep his own composure.

Who would have known that a coronation rehearsal would be so intense. His coronation rehearsals hadn't been this strict. Then again, Solomon was also an only child.

Asmo’s fingers twitched as he stole glances towards him. Touch meant something to Asmo, and Solomon knew he wanted to touch him. If only he could indulge him in this moment.

“This coronation will be a momentous occasion. Not only will the crown be passed on to Lucifer, but it will also be the precursor to a new kingdom joining us. We are putting the end to an era, and entering a new age,” Azazel placed his hands on the back of Solomon’s chair, a wide grin spread across his face, “It’s a time for celebration. I think it’s also fair to say we could allow ourselves to loosen up a little.” His gaze glanced towards Belphegor and then to Asmodeus, his smile faltering, “But I expect you to look like the strong rulers you are, even if adjustments need to be made.”

Asmo flinched, but Azazel moved away from him and towards Belphegor, “This also meant that you shouldn’t wear your mourning attire. It’s a joyous occasion! Act like it.”

“Says you, I say when I’m done mourning.”

All eyes shifted down towards Belphegor, who was refusing to look at Azazel.

“Your father would want you to enjoy the moment.”

“My father is not the one I’m mourning,” he snapped, “Since all of you have forgotten, Lilith is still dead.” He threw a pointed look towards Asmodeus, “But I suppose I’m the only one who cares that our little sister is gone.”

Silence pierced the room. Lilith hadn’t been brought up all that much since Solomon had been there, and he hadn’t really brought it up. It was like glass, and every time her name had been mentioned, a long crack appeared in the smooth surface.

“Just like the youngest of the family to get hostile when he’s told that he can’t do what he wants,” Azazel’s tone was even but filled with venom. Each word had been punctuated.

A little bit of life flared into Belphie’s eyes as he stood up. Honestly it had been the most alive that Solomon had ever seen him. He stood face to face with his uncle for a moment, before turning briskly and leaving towards one of the corridors.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere where the memory of my sister won’t be insulted.”

The door slamming echoed through the room and ended the conversation. Beel went to follow but Azazel cut him off, “You’re not going anywhere. He can throw his temper tantrum on his own.”

“Actually, I think we should end here today. Productive practice will not come from a situation like this,” Lucifer stood and Diavolo followed, looking a bit more concerned, “We can continue tomorrow.”

Azazel nodded curtly, but Solomon could tell he was struggling to hold his tongue, “As you wish.”

Asmodeus also went to stand quickly, he’d been so focused on Belphie and Azazel’s confrontation, that he hadn’t noticed that Asmodeus had turned away. Solomon felt that he should have followed him, he wanted to follow him, but Azazel caught his shoulder.

“My brother wasn’t happy with them for a reason,” he growled, “Of course, they all have their little flaws, but I have no doubt they would have ruined the crown if they’d been allowed to interact with him too much. It only takes one bad egg to ruin the bunch.” His gaze wandered over towards Diavolo who tried to strike up a conversation with Asmodeus and a few of the remaining brothers to try and lighten the mood. Beel was missing.

“I told him the twins should have been separated as well, he would be so disappointed to see how soft his descendants are becoming. Hard work is going down the drain.” Solomon barely felt Azazel let go of him, and he almost didn’t realize that he left. He was standing alone from the group, he felt like a stranger again.

Until Diavolo looked at him. He offered him a smile and waved him over, and those feelings started to ebb away. He couldn’t help being drawn into the group with Diavolo’s charismatic smile.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time, it’s like the days didn’t even exist,” he said as Solomon took his place near Asmodeus.

Lucifer nodded in agreement, “Life had seemed to go rather quickly lately.”

“And all of your brothers are going to play their own parts,” Diavolo brought their attention towards Asmodeus, who seemed to perk up a bit from earlier, “And Asmo will be singing, just in case he hadn’t told you.”

“I was going to tell him,” Asmo hummed, “I just hadn’t found the right time yet.”

“And he hasn’t heard you sing yet,” Diavolo shot a look to Lucifer who nodded.

“You are correct, he hadn’t heard you sing Asmodeus.”

Solomon had never seen Lucifer look this calm this close up. He was almost afraid to ruin the moment by speaking. Perhaps Diavolo did have some sort of magical abilities, but he did admire their relationship.

Maybe it was possible for good things to happen in arrangements like this.

Maybe he’d been a little too pessimistic in his views.

His eyes shifted back towards Asmodeus, who was already looking to meet his eyes. A soft finger went to interlock with his own. “Look at you two, putting so much pressure on me.”

“Yeah, if ya flub up, you might lose your fiance and embarrass yourself in front of all sorts of people,” Mammon cut in, poking at Asmo’s nose.

“Oh puh-lease, you should be focused on making sure none of your golden decorations are dull. No one likes underwhelming decorations,” Asmo bounced back quickly. He was witty. Perhaps it came with the territory of growing up with so many siblings, but Solomon still liked it nonetheless. It was endearing, and added to the growing list of things that Solomon had started to enjoy about him.

“Oi! I make sure none of my babies are ever dull! You watch your tongue!”

“And my voice hadn’t failed me yet, so maybe you should watch yours.”

His mother had been a singer too.

Had he learned from her?

Or was it something he picked up to carry her with him.

Regardless, music must have been important to Asmo. Solomon was positive that he would sound perfect. If he had learned anything about his fiance in the time he’d spent here, it was that he strived to be perfect. After all, he’d done so much to garner Solomon’s attention, even when he hadn’t been there for him, even when he’d been terrible. He still promised Solomon perfection, promised that Solomon would fall in love with him.

Maybe he was right. Maybe Solomon was falling in love with him. From the way he went to cover his mouth when he laughed to the way his eyes crinkled upwards ever so slightly when he smiled. He had a wonderfully melodic laugh, one that Solomon could listen to for hours. He was witty in his responses and graceful in his motions.

He’d still hold him later when he asked. Solomon had seen how bothered he was during Azazel and Belphegor’s confrontation, and Solomon wouldn’t mind helping him take his mind off of the entire situation.

After all, he was trying to be better for Asmodeus, because he deserved better.

For the first time since coming to Arcadia, Solomon genuinely felt like he belonged.

For the first time in his entire life, Solomon thought that he might be falling in love.

[talrayne]

Misadventures of the chemist pt 5

So, I've been "stopping crime" for a few nights now and things have only gotten more awkward. The good parts are that I've gotten better at disarming criminals and NOT causing damage in the process. Sure, the rapid hardening foam was effective, but I had to tweak the formula because it had a tendency to stick to stuff like glue and the exothermic reaction led to some complaints when criminals would be arrested suffering from first-degree burns. I considered things like localized... well, stink bombs, but they had two problems. The smell, while very good at disabling people, lingered. A lot. I didn't want to get in trouble for causing police officers to throw up arresting someone. It also felt like a step to close to tear gas.

What made things awkward before was the fact that my crush, who I couldn't convince myself to talk to, is trying to figure out how to be my sidekick. I've gotten some help with a lawyer in the sidekick guild doing pro-bono work (a real lawyer, not a "super lawyer") they said that my crush can be an apprentice sidekick for now. From the sounds of it, this sort of thing hasn't happened before. Sidekicks usually become heros THEN get sidekicks.

Things have only gotten weirder though. My crush doesn't know my "secret identity", so while I felt they were super cool in college (oh hell, I've been doing this too long. I'm making puns by accident now) they've been... not the best help in the field. They've definitely watched too many Saturday morning cartoons with the frequency they like to shout "Stop evildoer!"

They also wanted to help me in my lab. I don't have a lab. I have an apartment with neighbors that probably think I'm making drugs. My "apprentice" (who I'm still crushing on a bit) almost burnt the dish soap I was breaking down. It was cute and infuriating at the same time. I still don't know how to handle this.

At least the lawyer thinks they've found a way to have me able to register as a legitimate hero. They said if that goes through I might be able to get a grant for a real lab.