#smell and taste are very strong memory associators for me

[befuddled-calico-whump]

what smell makes you most nostalgic?

ooh that's a fun one

maybe the smell of those little yellow wildflowers that cover entire fields

or cut grass in humid air, but only at night

[libellule-ao3]

HC: Ominis, his eyes and his experience as a blind wizard

Picture Credits: @deathlysallows [link]

Hello,

I was talking to someone recently about Ominis' eyes, and it gave me the idea of publishing these HCs. 🙂

Please note that the ideas and interpretations presented in this post are my 'headcanon', some of which are mentioned/explored in my fanfictions, but not all. I respect and appreciate the different opinions and interpretations that others may have.

My intention is to share my thoughts, not impose them... I'd love to see yours btw. 😊

Approximately 1,560 words at present. This could increase with possible future updates.💚

☆ Ominis’ eyes do not have pupils to let light enter his eye and reach the photoreceptors. As a result, he has no light perception and is totally blind. This lack of pupils, a phenomenon unique even among wizards, is the result of the marriage between his family's consanguinity and Dark Arts, which they practise shamelessly. (Quote: Ominis was born blind and no spell could reverse it)

☆ Besides this absence of pupils, his eyes are distinguished by their density of pale blue radial streaks, which start from the centre of the iris and radiate outwards, against a dark blue background. This pattern gives his eyes a fascinating, dynamic look. Ominis’ eyes are not opaque, milky or cloudy. These descriptors are so often associated with cataracts or glaucoma (i.e. Eye diseases Ominis does not have in my HC) that I avoid using them.

☆ Even when taking on the appearance of a sighted person thanks to the Polyjuice Potion or using Legilimency, Ominis remains unable to see, as his brain does not know how to interpret visual stimuli.

☆ If the Polyjuice Potion had worked, Ominis' parents wouldn't have hesitated to kidnap a child of the same age, sequestering him so that Ominis could take on his appearance, proceeding in the same way as Barty Crouch Jr did with Alastor Moody.

☆ Using a Pensieve does not negate his blindness either. He therefore perceives the memories consulted by this means in the same way as he perceives his everyday environment.

☆ Ominis has a well-developed sense of touch and smell, and his hearing is very acute. However, the acuity of these senses is not superhuman. He has only learnt to maximumly use his sensory compensatory means to make up for the visual deficit.

☆ During his childhood, his parents and siblings, who struggled for a long time to cure his blindness did not value his existence. As a result, Ominis tends to see himself as less valuable than a sighted person, despite what his Aunt Noctua says.

☆ Ominis has never let his blindness stop him from doing what he really wanted to do. On the other hand, as a good sneaky snake, he doesn’t mind using his blindness as an excuse not to do what he refuses to do or... to justify getting physically close to his heart’s desire. "I can’t work with my wand today, can you guide me to the Great Hall?" How can you say no to him when you know his wand [HC link] is so fickle?)

☆ When not using his echolocation spell, Ominis relies on his other senses to understand the world around him. As a result, surprise contacts can be disturbing for him as they abruptly disrupt his sensory perception. This generates anxiety, as he cannot anticipate the contact. But when this is done by people with whom he has no emotional bond, Ominis experiences it as an additional violation of his personal space, which can make him angry.

☆ Before she disappeared, his Aunt Noctua used to embroider hangings for him, which she would then hang in his bedroom. Ominis loved to run his fingertips over the raised patterns and different textures. Even without seeing them, Ominis could appreciate their creativity and aesthetics through touch. He still has a strong taste for embroidered fabrics from this period.

☆ Without concrete sensory experience of colours, his perception of colours remains a mental concept for him. At Hogwarts, he used to ask Sebastian if his clothes matched properly until he was familiar enough with fabrics to recognise them by touch.

☆ Before Ominis got his wand, he had to learn to organise his living space so that he could be as independent as possible. As a result, Ominis is very tidy and always puts his things away carefully so that he can find them more easily and navigate safely. Even in the most intimate moments, he folds and tidies his clothes before attending to his lover... firstly out of habit, and secondly because he finds it very exciting to play with their patience.

☆ For the Gaunt, the family’s image and reputation were of crucial importance. Having a blind child was a source of shame, as it could be interpreted as a weakness in their lineage or a sign of failure. When they gave up hope of curing him, they convinced themselves that a Gaunt could not be born deprived of sight without obtaining a compensatory magical ability, such as the gift of clairvoyance... Reality soon caught up with them.

☆ This umpteenth disappointment, combined with Ominis’s repeated refusal to adhere to supremacist ideals, or to practise dark arts, reinforced the hostility of Ominis’s parents towards him. As a result, the abuse escalated until the terrible episode recounted in the game (negative emotions + intolerance + misunderstanding + social pressure formed a detonating cocktail)

☆ His echolocation spell allows him to navigate independently, but it will never replace sight.

☆Capable of taking initiative, his wand has a will of its own that sometimes comes into conflict with Ominis. When this happens, it is very difficult for him to work with his wand and he may sometimes ask someone to guide him to where he wants to go. If he turns to you in this case, it’s a sign that he has a great deal of trust in you, something he doesn’t grant easily.

☆ The fact that people avoid certain words (see, or look for example) in his presence, or are embarrassed when he uses them himself, metaphorically or simply as a linguistic convention, amuses him and he doesn’t hesitate to play them up.

☆ If he’s not serving himself, he discreetly feels his plate to find out where the food is.

☆ Ominis is very concerned about his appearance because he wants to blend in with society to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Also, he feels more confident with having an impeccable appearance. His obsession: getting a stain on his clothes that he can’t detect. He used to ask Anne to check his outfit several times during the day.

☆ Although many classmates have asked him to touch their faces so that Ominis can “see” them, he has always flatly refused, as he finds it too intrusive. Sebastian and Anne are the only ones with whom he has allowed himself this familiarity... until his fiancée.

☆ Aloof and reserved by nature, Sebastian, Anne and his lover are the only people he accepts hugs from. These have enabled him to obtain information about their appearance, height, weight, hairstyle, morphology and much more...

☆ Wizards of their background were often evaluated on their elegance and their ability to fit into the society at the time. In addition to the classic upbringing of a member of the illustrious Gaunt family, Ominis’ parents insisted he acquire good social skills and impeccable manners, which was not always easy for Ominis.

☆ For he had “automatic, stereotyped and repetitive” gestures (blindism). Swaying his body or turning his head, or repeatedly rubbing his eyes were very severely punished, as were the various postural disturbances inherent in his blindness (head in profile because that’s the ideal listening position, shuffling gait to keep his 2 feet anchored to the ground maintain his balance more easily etc...). As a result, Ominis has become very aware of himself and his body language.

☆ Always with the aim of meeting their standards, his parents imposed a strict education on him, ensuring that he was fully educated in the history of Magic, that of his ancestors, that of the great pureblood families, the evolution of the bonds governing them and the dark arts for which the Gaunt are so renowned.

☆ In Victorian times, professional prospects were rather limited for blind people, even in the wizarding world, and even with the best education. What’s more, the family safe at Gringotts was just a leaky basket, so Ominis’s parents forced him to play the piano hoping he would become skilled and renowned enough to bail them out. As a result, he plays the piano very well, but he is not a prodigy. This skill is the result of long efforts and painful constraints. All washed down with tears.

☆ At Hogwarts, potions classes are the hardest for Ominis to grasp. Too much simultaneous olfactory stimulation, a method of learning ill-suited to the blind as the recipe steps rely on the precise colouring of the brew.

☆ When he's not using his echolocation spell, Ominis hates it when people leave him after a conversation without telling him they're leaving.

☆ Braille appeared in England in 1861, and Ominis learned about this Muggle system of reading and writing from his Aunt Noctua, who was much more open to the Muggle world than the rest of the Gaunt family, who refused to hear about it. He learned it on his own, with the help of his aunt and the house-elf who provided him with reference books.

☆ When he has to use a knife for cooking or in potions class, Ominis demands a perfectly sharp blade that offers a more precise cut with less effort, reducing the risk of slippage and injury, unlike a dull knife, which is potentially more dangerous as it requires more force to cut, making control more difficult.

☆ He doesn’t cut his fingernails, he files them to make sure he doesn’t cut himself.

(These last 2 HC are from anecdotes heard about my paternal grandmother, whom I never knew and who became blind because of cataracts that were inoperable at the time because of certain medical history)

Masterlist

[luna-rainbow]

Amygdala and the super soldier serum

I read this interesting meta about Steve's brain changes post-serum, specifically this bit:

Steve’s brain is smarter and faster, the neurons have a longer life span, the hippocampus — that’s your memory storage — is nice and healthy; whatever. But then they said that the part of Steve’s brain that increased the most in mass and synaptogenesis was the amygdala.

So I had to be a nerd and crack open a Neuroanatomy textbook. Accordingly, the amygdala forms part of the limbic system (which I've briefly talked about in another meta), one of the key parts of the brain that governs memory, emotions, and by extension, behaviour. It serves a role not only in creating and regulating emotions, but also in recognising facial and verbal cues for emotions.

Onward for super soldier angst!(?)

Neuroanatomy is still an evolving field so our understanding of amygdala function is still immature. There are multiple areas to the amygdala, but the main ones are:

Basolateral: this is the largest part of the amygdala and receives information from higher-order sensory cortical areas and the association cortex. In plain English, this area links sensory input (e.g. music, objects, etc) with particular emotions. I think this is what the original meta was describing -- a simple stimulus could be so much more intense for Steve (and presumably for other super soldiers too) because it would bring on an emotional response. The pure joy of a tasting vanilla, the melancholy of the smell of rain, the nostalgia of old music, the grief of seeing the Howlies' pictures. And because this area draws from the association cortex as well, I would presume the more he has a particular emotional response to a stimulus, the more it becomes reinforced -- so going to the museum to see Bucky and the Howlies again and again reinforces the sense of grief he associates with them...and that's what stopped him in his tracks when he saw Bucky with his mask off.

Central: this area is key in mediating an emotional response, and both receives and sends information to the autonomic system, which controls things like heart rate/blood pressure/breathing rate/"gut feelings". It plays a key role in fear conditioning. It forms a central part of the rewards pathway, meaning it often serves a role in addiction and (on the flip side) depression. It also forms part of the pain regulation pathways. This may mean Steve has a strong physiological response to stimuli he associates with threats, regardless of whether or not he can control his own emotional response, i.e. even though he is used to explosions and gunshots and he knows, rationally, he can deal with them, this area might still kicks his heart rate and blood pressure up and make him feel dread. This makes me wonder whether the same amygdala development applies to the other super soldiers. For example, the Siberian Winter Soldiers had a very heightened fight-or-flight response, and similarly with Walker. It also begs the question of whether the heightened fear and reward pathways were used for Bucky's conditioning. E.g. Bucky's look of terror when he was trapped under the beam on the Helicarrier, but after Steve freed him, he was still intent on finishing the mission, because he was conditioned to think not finishing the mission was worse than dying. A lot of headcanons also involve Bucky being given drugs of addiction by Hydra -- and while I think the neuroanatomy of addiction is still not well understood, this could mean that quitting those drugs are more difficult for super soldiers once they became dependent on them. (Also, my headcanon is that the other super soldiers get a kick out of hurting people and post-serum, that reward pathway goes into overdrive and it becomes an addictive action for them.) And also, another area that is still developing, the pain regulation pathway being affected could also mean either more or less chronic pain issues, and likely a different emotional response to pain.

Basomedial nucleus: I thought I'd throw this in here because even though it wasn't mentioned in the neuroanatomy book, it is mentioned in this article. This area is thought to have a role in motivational behaviours under the influence of sex hormones, and in combination with the olfactory (sense of smell) processing being part of the amygdala structure and this apparently being a big factor in animal sexual behaviours...make of that what you will, A/B/O fic writers!

I think most places where I've read about the amygdala points to it being a primal center for emotions, i.e. the emotions that are key to our survival, and fear being a major part of it, triggering the fight-or-flight response. I think this means -- and I think it's fairly well-backed by canon -- that super soldiers innately have a heightened response to threatening stimuli, and because most of them are skilled, enhanced and trained, they respond to threat with aggression.

What's key here is that emotional regulation is done by higher centers outside the amygdala (frontal cortex). What that means is that the person has to make a conscious, cognitive effort to override their instincts for aggression. I think it says a lot about Steve and Bucky that they do keep a handle on their emotions, despite the over-development of their amygdala -- I think it also is in keeping with headcanons about Steve secretly having a huge anxiety problem under his stoic demeanour. We never see Steve lashing out, and the only time we see Bucky lashing out was when he got flashbacks to his arm being amputated. In a way...it's even more amazing that Bucky is as placid as he is, because despite having his memories wiped and therefore being only able to depend on primal emotions to guide him, he still has enough cognitive control to control his fears.

I also wanted to briefly address the "bleeding heart" part of the original meta (which was kinda what prompted this dive down the rabbit hole). As mentioned above, amygdala deals with primal emotions like joy and fear and anger, while some of the other "emotions" listed in the meta - sympathy and guilt and sense of duty and altruism - they are high level cognitions. I am inclined to think that Steve's empathy didn't change after the serum -- he just remained the same empathetic person he always was (although he might feel the emotions more keenly), which helped him be a better super soldier than the Winter Soldiers and Walker, and probably helped him keep a handle on the instinctive aggression.

Lastly, I just wanted to touch on grief. The neuroanatomy of grief is complex, and involves many different networks of emotions, autonomic responses, memory, and sensory processing. This study is interesting in that it identifies that increased functional connections in the amygdala is associated with a more protracted grief response and development of depressive symptoms. So yes...it is quite possible that Steve's more developed amygdala (and Bucky's too, but we shan't talk about The Movie that Does Not Exist) means he feels sadness more intensely, for longer, and the abnormal reward pathways might send him down a depressive or self-destructive spiral where his perceived reward is by doing something self-sacrificing.

One last thing (I promise this is final) the amygdala is also involved in REM sleep, aka dreaming. Theories are varied, but there is thought that being the fear/stress centre, the amygdala likely has a major role in generating nightmares.

Now put that together with two super soldiers living with PTSD and one canonically waking up from a nightmare...

[foodandfolklore]

Are they related? Food vs Food

How often do you look at foods in the grocery store, back and forth between two items thinking 'This looks exactly the same. Are they exactly the same? How are they not the same?" and no, I'm not talking about the processed repackaged foods and you're looking at 40 different kinds of tomato sauce. I'm talking about the produce lane.

Sure in some cases it's obvious they're not EXACTLY the same. But they must be related. Right? Well, sometimes they are, some times they're not, and some of these may surprise you. I know they surprised me!

Cucumber Vs Zucchini

I think anyone looking at these two would assume they're related. They're both long with dark green skin and light green flesh. When eaten raw and unseasoned, they also have a similar taste. However, these are two completely different foods.

The zucchini is a type of gourd, being more closely related to a Pumpkin. The cucumber is a Melon and is more closely related to the Watermelon. ....alright fine, technically gourds are a type of melon, still making them related; but my point remains! Try eating a cucumber with some sweetener like sugar or honey and it'll taste like watermelon. Won't work with zucchini.

Both cucumbers and zucchini are related to Fidelity, Chastity and general sex and Lust magic. But cucumbers are also associated with youth, beauty, glamor, stress relief, and rejuvenation. There was an old superstition that cucumbers had to be planted by young men in order for the crop to be successful.

Parsley Vs Cilantro

At a glance, these two herbs can easily be mistaken for the same thing. But once eaten, the difference is very clear. Cilantro (Also called Coriander) has a strong, lemon pepper taste; while Parsley is mainly an aromatic with a Lighter earthy taste.

People who love Cilantro might be perplexed by the hate it gets. Sure it's a strong taste but it's not overpowering. Well it turns out Cilantro is related to Fennel. Which is also related to licorice. It turns out, if your DNA is set up one way, these foods taste great. But if your DNA is set up another way, these foods taste TERRIBLE. My partner describes Cilantro as tasting like soap. So we stick with Parsley.

Superstitious farmers used to refuse growing parsley. See, parsley only grows back every other year. So, because of how long it takes to grow, it was believed parsley had to travel to hell and back 7 to 9 times. This was to try and convince the devil to give it permission to grow. And if the devil did not give the parsley permission to grow, the people who planted it would die. Was dubbed The Devil's Oatmeal.

Cilantro is a great protection herb. Protect the home, protect the garden, protect your health, protect your secrets. Parsley is also good for protection, but also has more general uses. Cleansing, Attract love and prosperity, Wisdom, commune with spirits; parsley has a long history in Rome of using to honor the dead and wear to enhance thinking power.

Ginger Vs Turmeric

Both roots, often eaten together as a seasoning. They look very similar; they must be related. Well, you'd be right! They are both part of the Zingiberaceae family. Both have strong anti inflammatory properties and have been used in natural remedies.

They still have very different tastes, however. Ginger will have a fresh, somewhat spicy taste. Turmeric is a bit heavier and earthier. Turmeric is also recognizable for it's bright yellow orange pigment. It's known to stain and dye.

Because they are roots, both Ginger and Turmeric have good Grounding properties. They are also both good for healing, cleansing, purification, prosperity and protection. But then we start to split off. Ginger is great for raising one's personal power, success, new experiences, passion, and general energy. Turmeric is better for communication, family relations, courage, confidence, beauty, memory, and honesty.

Peach vs Nectarine

So what's the deal with these two? They look a lot a like. They smell a lot a like. They taste a lot a like. Are they the same fruit? Well no. But also yes. It's kind of interesting.

A peach is just a fuzzy nectarine. Their genetic composition is structured in a way they they are identical except for one difference that occurred naturally, stopping the fuzz from growing on peaches. Giving us nectarines. They are exactly the same in every other way. Which is hilarious because I remember growing up, I hated nectarines but loved peaches. I think the peaches were just grown local so they tasted better.

I want to be clear, this genetic deviation is a naturally occurring mutation. It was not a result of science or GMOs or any kind of known human interference.

Peaches are a very spiritual fruit. They are linked to wisdom, happiness, harmony, longevity, love and protection. Nectarines....would probably be an acceptable substitute.

[tadpal]

🥀🌿✨

hello isabell!! have i told u that i love your pfp i love to see it it makes me giggle

🥀 what keeps you motivated/helps boost your mood when you’re feeling off?

motivation is a huge weakness for me! if i knew how to boost it i wouldnt be on this app but i have a laundry list miles long about mood boosting and emotional maintenance! ive been in and out of care for bpd and autism for the better part of 8 years now and while i can't rate the professional help (nhs mh 😬) i CAN say that i am currently doing super well in terms of stability. i think for me it's less about Feeling Better and more about breaking the bad you know? temperature shocks are a big thing for me, especially with my heavy emotional weights for temp, so it's a lot of uncomfortable showers, cooling towels on neck, cool water on feet and face, cat baths, hot water bottles, ice creams, going outside. just anything with that like Temperature Shock is going to help. for overwhelming most often going sudden cold (safely) is what works best for me!! resets!

🌿 do you like having plants in your home/yard? do you have any currently?

LOVE THEM!!! when i was living at uni i had 7-9 various houseplants in my room and others scattered in the kitchen halls and bathroom but these days most of them have been claimed by my mom! i have three in my room now! a large succulent a sort of grass and something tall with dark greens and waxy leaves... by those descriptions you can tell im terrible at remembering plant types but im surprisingly not terrible at keeping them alive. idk it mostly just works out

✨ what scents do you have strong memories/associations with?

the nice ones are like orange blossom (aunts perfume who passed, grandmother figure to me, scent never lasted bc of her work so you could only ever smell it if you hugged real tight, calloused hands, bristly hair, miss her ), ocean spray (lived by a beach, leaving the commune for outings, big bright blue, one day we'll get out of here, people on the outside are kind - the systemite kids are kind - i will be able to have friends on the outside, calm, loneliness, laughter), honeysuckle (represents childhood hunger and gentleness and peace and danger, the importance of ritual), lemon blossom (tree by the pool in one of the worst communes we lived in, best lemons ive ever tasted, my aunt maria taught me how to make soap), apple cider vinegar (self sufficiency - making meals for myself too young, fresh vegetables from the local farms, abuelas tomato salads, full stomachs)

but there's also more unpleasant ones just in terms of the scent itself: septic tank in the height of summer (danger, childhood recklessness, the feeling of being trapped, the buzz of the wasps,) the thing that died in the pool over winter (we didn't find it until we cleaned the pool in summer, it smelt mostly of chlorine, we don't know what animal it had been, it's bones were greyer than id expected, my mom cried for a week) and it's dry and the car is leaking (it's the middle of a drought and the old car is leaking, thick black oil onto the drive. there have been three bush fires this week and every time you haul your childhood possessions onto the year and watch the smoke. the smoke clings and clutches and you think about the oil. no one else can smell it but you. it's worse when the fires start when you're already out and you think about all the things that you left inside the home.) the smell of the old car in summer (and then you're inside the car, waiting at the gas station and all around you is the smell of smoke and gasoline and seaweed and leaking. the seat is somehow sticky and sandy all at once. your uncle is talking about leaving forever again.)

i am very much an associator tho you could say anything and id go Oh That Reminds Me. guy who is reminded

[tinnictheguardian]

Happy Birthday, Lorenz!

Time to review the tea of the other tea connoisseur of Garreg Mach Monastery! Ferdie’s tea was great, so I have high hopes for this!

Like always, the tea inside the Fodlan Tea Collection comes from Lupicia. The in-universe flavour text says, “Black tea laced with rose petals. A classic floral blend often enjoyed among Kingdom and Alliance nobles.”

In the real world that Fodlan Rose Petal Blend is the Rose Darjeeling and straight away, I want to note how strongly it smells of Rose Water. It is spot on the classic rose water scent. 

As noted in past reviews, my sinuses were destroyed due to repeated infections and so my sense of smell is not great. So if I can smell it, you can assume the scent is very strong!

As for the taste, it is a strong tea with a distinct rose petal taste. I like it but I can also see it being a bit too strong and bitter for some people. It’s not as good as Ferdinand’s tea, sorry Lorenz!

So 9/10, you’ll love it if you, like me, have strong memories and associations around rose water.

So the other birthday in this month is Edelgard’s but her tea is the same as Sylvain’s so I am not going to be doing anything to mark her day.

[cllovegood0617]

memories.

Sight.

Just like the bright lights

That shone on my face that one friday night

When nothing in the world seemed more important

Than the simple joy of being with my family as a family

All of fremont street was entirely dormant

But, wow, was it incredible, how there was no sign of anyone driving or walking frantically

Smiles are so contagious that a smile can make any other person, including yourself, just a little bit happier

“It could make a person’s day less crappier”

Is what I was raised being told

It might even make a person less cold

I have moved from family to family 

So I never got used to having a family to call my own

But when I looked far out into the crowd 

of my 8th grade graduation and saw her waving and smiling at me with such pride

I lit up immediately and knew for the first time

I was somewhere good.

Hearing.

[Oh my God, how desperately I want him to hear me.]

Babies crying. The first miracle in a person’s life.

Horrible scraping on a chalkboard like it’s from a knife.

“I love you” 

“I miss you”

“I want to be with you.”

Very few words.

Yet Very powerful sentences.

Quite coincidental how sentimental and consequential

These statements are to each other.

You cannot have one without the other.

Breaking.

Screaming.

Crashing.

Banging.

Thrashing.

All horrible sounds that can make a person turn in a rush.

When you look at your sister and gently tell her, shush.

You need to seem like you are not scared

So that she feels safe and prepared

For whatever could happen next

Because when your whole life is undetermined, you tend to feel like you may be hexed.

Touch

A gentle caress on the back of the neck.

The soft or passionate rhythm of a kiss.

The safety and connection from an embrace.

The bond that comes with and from sex.

All of them are something I reminisce.

His touch. 

Oh how I love his touch. 

Oh how I miss his touch.

Felt so infinite

Now feels so indefinite.

I miss when I used to be able to touch him whenever.

It just felt like my forever.

I wish to make it clear that touch is so sacred.

It can make you feel so naked.

Even more so when you are in love with the person.

Although You never know if tomorrow is for certain.

Smell.

Such a strong way to remember.

For example Turkey is associated with November

And spruce for December

Nose blindness is such an intriguing thing to me

The fact a human can get so comfortable and used to a scent

Their brain defines the smell as “nothing”

I do not want to be nose blind to anything

(Even though I know this is entirely impossible)

I want to remember each time I smell my home that I am home.

I want to know what I smell like.

Do I smell like the artificially created smell of linen?

Or do I smell like the artificially created smell of vanilla?

When I say artificially created, I mean candles.

Candles never get the smell right 

I can not smell “cherry blossom” PINK lotion the same again

Because all I remember is when I was thirteen 

And who wants to remember when they were thirteen.

I still get scared to this day whenever I smell a musty, wet type of smell.

Because all I can pinpoint it to is a man who did not make my childhood years well.

He wore a big large green coat.

I avoid the memories that are associated with every time he put on this coat. 

It is just rote.

Taste.

Smell and taste are intertwined with each other.

If you cannot smell you cannot taste. 

I kind of want a relationship like taste and smell have.

Where we are so brilliant as individuals

And we always work together to be our best selves

I feel like I am more taste and he is smell in this scenario.

I can not be without him.

Call it codependency if you want, but it is more than that. 

It is more intimate than that.

I crave him like a man who has been stranded on an island for a month would crave a hamburger.

I just want to be like how we were.

There it is.

Sight.

Hearing.

Touch. 

Smell.

Taste.

The five senses of a human.

The five inputs of memories.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: KING ARTHUR

Tagged by @themousefromfantasyland

@superkingofpriderock @amalthea9 @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @softlytowardthesun @ardenrosegarden @angelixgutz @faintingheroine @princesssarisa @giuliettaluce @the-blue-fairie

Favorite Thing About Them: He is a person who, while still phisically strong and knowing how to fight, doesn't like to hurt anyone, favours using dialogue and diplomacy and sees the use of violence as a last minute resource.

Least Favorite Thing About Them: That basically he lets his knights make moral and public court judgements over Guenevere and Lancelot rather than personally going to solve the affair situation with them.

Three Things I Have In Common With Them:

*I don't think mighty makes right

*I am curious to learn new things

*I befriend people from older generations like he befriended Merlin

Three Things I Don't Have In Common With Them:

*I am not royalty

*I don't know how to fight with swords

*I am a single woman

Favorite Line:

I love this soliloquy he gives in Camelot when discovering the affair between Guenevere and Lancelot:

I love them and they answer me with pain and torment. Be it sin or not sin, they have betrayed me in their hearts and that's far sin enough. I can see it in their eyes, I can feel it when they speak, and they must pay for it and be punished. I shall not be wounded and not return it in kind! I'm through with feeble hoping! I demand a man's vengeance!

[Calming down]

Proposition: I'm a king, not a man. And a very civilized king. Could it possibly be civilized to destroy the thing I love? Could it possibly be civilized to love myself above all? What about their pain? And their torment? Did they ask for this calamity? Can passion be selected? Is there any doubt of their devotion to me? To our table?

And these lines he says, also at the end of Camelot:

All we've been through, for nothing but an idea! Something that you cannot taste, smell, or feel; without substance, life, reality, memory.

Don't let it be forgot / That once there was a spot / For one brief shining moment / That was known as Camelot!

brOTP: Merlin, the Lady of the Lake and his sisters Morgause and Morgaine le Fay (in versions of the story where they are siblings with a friendly relationship)

OTP: Guenevere and Lancelot

nOTP: His sisters Morgause and Morgaine le Fay

Random Headcanon: His return will not be trough one encarnation in an individual person. His ideals of peace, love and justice are meant to be carried on by a collective of people, who must unite to help one another in times of plight. Just as he once intended his knights to do.

Unpopular Opinion: I think people forget that Arthur was a human being who made mistakes and tried to be acountable about them while carrying the task of being the leader people needed in a complicated world. The appeal of his story isn't really a golden age where everything was fair and perfect. On the contrary: it was precisely because not everything was fair and perfect that he becamed King. He wanted to fix what was wrong in Camelot. His heroism is not the fact that he was powerfull enough to keep everything alright and happy. Is the fact that he kept trying to be brave, kind, compassionate and just to help people, even when the odds were against him, and he knew he likely would loose the battle. He was brave not because he knew no fear, but because he continued to fight for his ideals while still afrayed.

Song I Associate With Them:

The Legend of the Sword in the Stone/A Dark Age and Life as a Fish/That's What Makes the World go's Round from Disney's The Sword in the Stone

Camelot and What do The Simple Folk Do from Camelot

Favorite Picture of Them:

This Trina Schart Hyman's illustration for the picture book Merlin and the Making of a King

Young Arthur (nicknamed Wart) in Disney's Sword in the Stone, my first portrayal of the character

William Squire in a stage production of Camelot

Richard Harris in the 1967 filme version of Camelot

[ptolemyniaaa]

you're leaving today

4.22am, 18th February 2024

From the very first day we met, I would have laughed at your face if you had told me we would last one year, heck meeting each other too. I would've swore that it can only happen in my wildest dream. But, you had proved me wrong. You had showed me love in colours that were far beyond what i normally see; a splash of yellow that highlights a specific memory in my pale mundane mind.

The moment I saw you walked through the arrival gate, my heart dropped. Flustered, embarrassed, and swooned. I felt like a teenager that has yet to move on from her crush. You were the perfect height, though i have feared you would be much taller and be seen like a mere child next to you. Your voice was as symphonic as the early morning chirpings of a bird i would usually recall on my way to college. A sense of regularity came to me as i heard it, telling me it is not as different as what im used to. However, your presence now could be felt physically. I wish i could've express myself better. My immune system had failed me once they decided two days before your arrival was the perfect day to be sick and get a sore throat. I should've not sang my heart out during karaoke too. I had prayed that my throat could heal as fast as it could... but again, my body has failed me. you had to stick to bending over to hear me whisper and get used to a hoarse voice. I hope it was able to bring you the same comfort as your voice did to me. I wished i was able to greet you with a more melodic voice. I would scream as loud as i can to tell the world i love you but a whisper was i could give, hopefully it was enough.

I became a part of you as soon as we hugged. I'm not one that likes the idea of physical touch but for some unknown reason, my body gave in to you. Maybe out of deprivation, my body had accepted your touch that it had long craved. My hands continued to desire the feeling of your skin against it, allowing the light sensation to put you at ease as much as it did for me. And lastly, my lips couldn't get enough of the heavenly taste of you. I have mentioned that i spoil you with kisses aplenty, fearing it's too much for your comfort but you embraced them, accepting my lips to interlock yours. So, how could i stop myself? I often allow myself to surrender to your lips by thinking it could compensate a years worth of withheld kisses. I cannot force myself to be far from you as if superglue had stuck us together. At that point, my nose has memorized your scent and kept it in a room my brain has made specially for you. It had caught on to me during our first hug and ever since that moment, that scent has brought me contentment in ways no other fragrance can. It has been associated with you and memories of you so much that i had to accept defeat and continue to crave it.

-My room now smells like you

Slowly yet surely, our time was running out. We had to drift away back to how it was before: apart from each other. There was a feeling of unsurety that haunted me during our last hour together. The more time i spent in your space, the more it pained me to leave yet i wanted to devour every last second i had with you. I could tell by the look etched on your face that you felt the same, but the more i analyzed it, the more i selfless i became. I think we both knew it was time to say goodbye. The realization that it was impossible to stay in each other's presence for longer became more clearer as if a fog has been cleared up. After a day of giving in, the only choice i had was to give up. I had nothing else to convince myself that it was okay to stay and i have thought to myself that this pain has to end soon before it devours me - i gave up.

Watching you enter the car and drive away pained me the most. I can no longer be in your presence. To feel and see you in front of me. I tried my damn hardest not to cry in front of you just so we wouldn't be in too much pain. It hurts to see you leave but i was strong enough to wave while you drift away from me. To say our final goodbyes before a new day awaits. As of writing this, i have come to terms with this pain. This is the first to many more to come, and it won't be the most painful feeling i have forever. As much as i crave for your company, i was joyful for the time we had spent. Nothing can ever be as valueable as the moments we had spent together and as i've mentioned prior, it's only the first to many more to come.

This experience felt surreal to me. It felt like a dream that i wish to not wake up from. The only thing that ensures me that you are real is only if you are here right now with me. I would never trade these moments for the best life has to offer because it is you. You are the best thing life has offered to me and i am more than grateful to have you by my side. I wish you to come visit me again someday sooner and vice versa. I wish to see and feel you again, to smell you again too. Words cannot express how much i love you and no action can show how much i care for you. You are simply the best of both worlds. I love you endlessly.

[ 5.55am, 18th Feb 2024 ]

[seung-scrittore]

Have you done a moot games as moots with your fav scents :0 if not can you ? ^_^

oh my gods, i've not done that !! but i'd love to !!

p.s; sorry that i took literal days to answer this -

@releasethypen - coffee - hm, maybe it's just because of your layout and use of coffee emotes on your fic details, or maybe it's because i helped you with that barista!hobi fic... regardless, i associate you with the smell of coffee, ashe ! you've got a strong and awakening personality, yet you've got a variety of sides to you, alike coffee has it's variety of flavours. ♡

@noramoons - citrus - okay, so maybe i took inspiration from your header and theme here, but i really can't associate you with any other scent ? you're tangy ! (in the best way possible) you strike people with your bold personality, and you leave an impact that can be described as a bit sour or intimidating at first, but in actuality you're sweet and soothing, fitting citrus to a T ! <3

@yedammi - rain - this one's almost certainly because you mentioned you loved the smell of rain and lightning ! though, i can't really imagine you as anything else, mayhaps a rainforest ? you're comforting and homely like rain, but you're also more than capable of enhancing feelings, or making a moment worth a thousand memories. thank you for being the pitter patter of rain in my life ♡♡♡

@minilinooo - mint - i know we don't talk often, but your page reminds me so much of fresh mint, i feel like you give off a very youthful and vibrant energy. you're soft, yet sharp around the edges, and you're almost always reminiscent of freshness, youth, and hope. you're such a pure soul, tiana, thank you for freshening up all of our dashes ^^ !

@multifcndoms - bleach - please don't take this the wrong way, i swear you're not in any way a toxic liquid. TT i'm honestly not quite sure why i think your energy is reminiscent of bleach... though, you're definitely strong and distinct, i don't think i could ever confuse you with another smell, a lot like bleach. you also seem very to the point, as if you wouldn't beat around the bush. you're a much needed break from all the fake niceties without being overly brazen or brusque. you're perfectly you, and i truly appreciate that in a person. :>

@sunoo-bby - laundry detergent - firstly, thank you for requesting such a sweet little game ! i think your essence reminds me of laundry detergent, specifically the floral kinds. you're sweet, yet not sickly. you also come across as very clean and organized, a lot like laundry detergent's purpose. though, i think essentially you're just very kind, and you remind me of freshly done laundry ~ comforting, homey, and sweet.

@loverhyunn - salt - honestly, princess, i'm not quite sure how to describe the smell of salt, but it's somewhere along the lines of savory and zesty. you're piquant, personality wise. you've got a sharp and impactful edge to you. but you're also a tad overlooked, similar to salt itself, and i hope that you, amongst others, realize your value. despite your sharpness, you're also familiar, a taste and smell we've all experienced, in the time i've known you, i don't think you've ever felt like a stranger, not even in the beginning. ♡

@late-minhours - old book smell - there is truly no one else i can think of that fits this smell more than you, blue. even the feel of your page(s) itself carries such a library-esc feel. i was originally going to say you have a "new book smell", but that doesn't properly capture your personality. you're wise, you carry a mature sense of humour, and you truly are someone i look up to. your page is such a calm place to visit. you really emanate librarian vibes (in the absolute best way possible)

@svtsunshine - paint - okay, okay, okay! hear me out, i'm in no way calling you anything negative, please ignore the fact that paint emits toxic fumes. okay, i happen to enjoy the smell- but, regardless ! cait, you're unmistakable, and you've got a vague purpose. i mean that in the sense that paint's job is to, well, paint. but the variety of uses it has is alike your variety of talents and interests. you're multifaceted and ever talented, not to mention you're crucial in adding some colour to all of our lives. so, thank you for being just that <3

@septabuspass - windex - *sigh* there was no escaping this one. you know about windex incident as well as i do. you also know that i'm no longer allowed into that store anymore. and well, solely off of those memories and that incident, you remind me of windex. you're weird, funny, distinct, and honestly, fairly concerning. but i love you for that, for all your oddities and obscurities, thank you for encouraging me to do dumb shit and for being there for me like a big sister all these years, even if we aren't exactly blood related. ♡♡♡♡♡

i'm sorry, i swear i tried to stay on a normal path, but i happen to like weird smells - TT

[brawltogethernow]

@mirrorfalls​ submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

~~

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

[astradrifting]

A Dream of Spring, and variations thereof

The phrase ‘a dream [for] spring’ only occurs once in the text of ASOIAF, in the chapter where Jon and the wildlings arrive in Queenscrown. Jon remembers Ned and Benjen discussing a plan to resettle the Gift with new lords.

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. “It is a dream for spring, though,” Lord Eddard had said. “Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on.”

(Jon V, ASOS)

Given that Jon remembers it quite well, this conversation likely happened in the long summer just before the start of AGOT, meaning that the spring Ned was speaking of is actually the one that will come at the end of the series.

It might just be a quirk of how asearchoficeandfire’s search engine works, but searching the phrases “a dream of/for spring” comes up with only two other results within the main books. The first one is from Ned’s POV:

The memory came creeping upon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream. It was the year of false spring, and he was eighteen again, down from the Eyrie to the tourney at Harrenhal.

(AGOT, Eddard XV)

The second one is from Jaime’s POV:

The castleton outside the walls had been burned to ash and blackened stone, and many men and horses had recently encamped beside the lakeshore, where Lord Whent had staged his great tourney in the year of the false spring. A bitter smile touched Jaime's lips as they crossed that torn ground. Someone had dug a privy trench in the very spot where he'd once knelt before the king to say his vows. I never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour.

(ASOS, Jaime IV)

It’s interesting that throughout the whole series, a connection between dream imagery and spring only ever comes up in association with the Tourney of Harrenhal, set during the year of the false spring. It was a period of time that could be considered ‘a dream of spring’ too, in a much more negative sense. Though everyone thought winter had broken, the warm weather only lasted a couple of months before the cold winds came again. At the same time, the relative peace of the realm was shattering after the tourney. It was possibly intended to be the start of change, as Rhaegar might have planned to use it to gather a council deposing Aerys, but whatever was intended never went through and Rhaegar just caused brand new problems. It was a dream of spring in that the spring wasn’t real, it was fleeting and followed quickly by winter, and a war that ravaged the Seven Kingdoms.

The Ned and Jaime passages both carry on this theme. Jaime states it explicitly, that the sweet turned sour quickly, while Ned goes on to describe the dreamlike, idyllic atmosphere of the tourney, up until the moment it all went wrong:

He could see the deep green of the grass, and smell the pollen on the wind. Warm days and cool nights and the sweet taste of wine. He remembered Brandon's laughter, and Robert's berserk valor in the melee, the way he laughed as he unhorsed men left and right.

[...]

Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost.

(AGOT, Eddard XV)

The only time spring and dream imagery is linked together positively is in the Jon passage above, which talks about a plan for renewal and stability in an area that has faced a lot of turmoil, but one that must be put off until after the coming winter. That it contains nearly word for word the title of the last book is pretty strong foreshadowing that this plan will become relevant, hopefully that Jon will be able to carry out his father-uncles’ dream to resettle the Gift.

The Tourney of Harrenhal was arguably the beginning of Jon’s story; where his parents first encountered each other, the catalyst for the whole political situation at the beginning of the series.

It’d be poetic if Jon’s story was bookended by a false hope of spring at the start, and the true dreams of spring at the end. The situation after Harrenhal is already being set up in reverse for the end of the series. The harshest winter in years has just arrived. War has already ravaged the Seven Kingdoms, and there are only more wars yet to come. But by the end, even if it’s still winter there will be hope for a real spring - Jon’s attempt to depose an unsuitable monarch is going to go much better than Rhaegar’s, and he’ll get a chance to enact Ned’s plans for the Gift with the wildlings.

Incidentally, the last search result for “a dream of spring” is from The Mystery Knight. Dunk is talking to Daemon II, a Blackfyre prince who has hidden himself as a man with dark hair called John the Fiddler. They have a discussion about John/Daemon’s dreams, during which Dunk recalls a memory of another tourney held in the spring:

"I dreamed it. This pale white castle, you, a dragon bursting from an egg, I dreamed it all, just as I once dreamed of my brothers lying dead. They were twelve and I was only seven, so they laughed at me, and died. I am two-and-twenty now, and I trust my dreams." Dunk was remembering another tourney, remembering how he had walked through the soft spring rains with another princeling. I dreamed of you and a dead dragon, Egg's brother Daeron said to him. 

The tourney Dunk is referring to is, of course, our beloved Ashford Tourney :)

[its-a-humanriot]

Common Language, pt. I

(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)

(pt. I) / (pt. II)

---

Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.

In the first instance, this is very literal.

Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.

Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.

“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”

Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.

His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.

“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”

He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”

His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?

“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.

“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…

A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.

“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.

“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.

“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”

“I am unable to harm my employer.”

“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”

“I do not require payment.”

“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”

“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”

“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”

“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”

She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.

“You’re a slave?”

“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.

“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”

“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”

“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”

The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.

“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”

She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.

“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”

He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.

“I cannot accept.”

At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.

“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”

“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”

“What?” The look of confusion is back.

“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”

“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”

“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”

“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”

“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”

“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”

“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.

“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.

“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”

“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”

“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”

The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face

“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”

[gorarus]

name: Bastien Achard nicknames: Bas, Bast, Achard  age:  18 gender: Male ( He / Him )  orientation: Gay gay gay gay monsterfucker home: Land of Pyroxene school:  Royal Sword Academy. dorm:  Villeneuve class:  Third year. best subject:  History of magic unique magic: Tale as old as time - Bas is allowed to bring objects from the pages on a book as long as it is described within the pages and it remains open and on the exact page. It requires more magic to make larger things and they don’t count as “alive” even if some move

mother: Lea Achard - She died when Bas was very young. he has very vague memories of him, she was a writer and left behind work that Bas found in an attic on their first move  father: Maurice Achard - An inventor deemed crazy by the people in the town that Bas calls home. Stayed single his entire life and judging by the fact that he’s somewhat old never wishes to remarry, likes his time alone with his trinkets.  sister:  

hair color:  light brown. eye color:  Emerald green height:  5′7″ faceclaim: Madara Mikenjima (idk anything abt enstars dont ask me)

inspirations: Belle from Beauty and the beast

story: Avid reader and even more avid participant of magical goodreads, Bastien is a bright mind who’s face is always stuck in a book. Growing up around a father who kept to himself and to his inventions Bastien spent a lot of time reading growing up, which eventually caused him by association to be seen as somewhat odd since a lot of social development simply didn’t happen. He kept to himself during his scholar years and developed his magic until he was enrolled at RSA due to a show of high engagement with it. 

His most notable hobbies are reading, writing and he has taken after his father quite a lot so often you can find him huddled up in a corner tinkering away. 

He is mostly quiet, he doesn’t get along with people easy due to the fact that for most of his life he avoided people. he is arrogant due to his intelligence often which annoys people most of the time. Bastien doesn’t really filter out what he says either and his social battery is easily drained. People who don’t know him don’t really like him and he’s fine with that, he’s used to being criticised and ignores it most of the time. 

trivia:

Avid hater of kindles and tablets, something about having a hardcover brings strong joy

Yes he has caused minor incidents within his dorm please dont talk about it

He doesn’t really like most people and feels a sense of superiority for being “not like the other girls” in his way. It comes off as bitchy and he doesn’t mind it

Can’t stand the taste or smell of fish. 

french (derrogatory)

Part of the book club and the only member who attends as much as he does!!!!!!

[iatethepomegranate]

A fic in which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and learns how to be a person.

Chapter Summary: The sands of time stop for no one, and the Nein eventually go back to their separate lives. Caleb grapples with the responsibilities of his new position, invents the support group, and Astrid gives him some rather unsettling news.

Notes: Caleb and Essek's scene together is a little spicy, but not explicit. Chapter title is from In the Embers by Sleeping At Last.

*** Chapter 5: Like fireworks we pull apart the dark

Caleb was smiling when he got back home. Veth aimed her crossbow at him.

“Quick! Tell me something only Caleb would say!”

Caleb sighed and held up his hands in surrender; he should have expected this. “You almost inscribed a rune upside-down today. I lent you my spellbook.”

“I don’t know, man,” said Beauregard, lounging across Yasha on the couch and completely fucking with them. “An imposter could’ve interrogated Caleb and forced him to recount his day. Caleb is pretty squishy.” Caleb almost reminded her he had been taught to withstand torture, which he’d first told explictly her while compiling his testimony for Trent’s trial, but he didn’t want to ruin her fun.

“Oh, that’s very smart,” Yasha said.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Say something else,” Veth demanded. “Something not from today. How did we meet?”

“In prison. You stole a bottle of cherry wine. I had Frumpkin retrieve a piece of wire so you could pick the lock and then I set the jail on fire and screamed for help. The guards ran away and we walked out. We have been best friends ever since. You were also a goblin at the time.”

“But wouldn’t an imposter have asked about Caleb’s known associates?” Fjord supplied.

“Fjord, I can and will burn your hair off. And, unlike Aeor, it will not grow back overnight.”

“Ha!” Veth put her crossbow away. “Welcome back. Sit down. Cad’s making tea again.” She dragged him over to the blanket nest that no one had bothered to put away, and shoved him in it.

Essek poked his head out of the kitchen. “How was your meeting?”

Caleb didn’t want to get into it. “I took the job.”

“Woo!” Jester yelled from the kitchen. She poked her head out, just next to Essek. “Did Astrid like the cookies?”

“Ja. She says thank you.” Caleb felt fine, except from the fact he was fucking exhausted. He tipped his head back, landing on Beau’s shin, and closed his eyes. “Uh, Beauregard? She says to look into Headmaster Zivan Margolin, who is also the Archmage of Conscription. He’s a link to Trent. A weak one. Apparently he has been running his mouth about how he saw my potential from the beginning. Ludinus is uncomfortable with the implication and may throw him to the wolves to save his own neck.”

“I’ll pass it onto Yudala tomorrow. Take a nap while we wait for dinner.”

“The head of your school is also in charge of conscription?” said Fjord. “Wait. You’ve said this before.”

“A long time ago, ja.”

“Look, I’m only a few months old,” said Kingsley, who had been sprawled behind the couch the whole time, apparently. “And even I know that’s kinda fucked up.”

“No shit.” Caleb was half-sleep already, eyes closed. A small body curled up against him. Veth.

“Caleb, that’s really awful,” said Jester. “I’m so sorry.”

“Jester, I appreciate that, and I love you very much, but I am exhausted and cannot talk about this anymore.”

Caduceus saved him by bringing a tea tray into the room. “Let’s all unwind for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Caleb drank half his tea and fell asleep on Beauregard, who had to kick him awake for dinner. Well had to was a strong way to put it. Regardless, he shoved some food in his face and then went to bed with Essek.

****

Astrid sent him tidbits of information as more details of his professorship were finalised. He would assist Professor Weber with the beginner and intermediate Transmutation classes. He would also assist Professor Winterheart with the beginner Evocation class, due to his experience. He would also be on call to assist with other classes as necessary.

What really shook Caleb, however, were Bettina’s plans for Advanced Transmutation. She told him herself over coffee in the ex-smut shop.

“Astrid has assured me of your capabilities,” she said, stirring sugar into her mug. “And she’s of the mind that the Advanced students may need your guidance the most. You may end up with a few former Volstrucker students, if we can get them back in class.”

“That is a big if.”

“Ja. Would you talk to Astrid about it? I don’t want to overstep.”

“It has been on my mind. I will talk to her.” If Caleb hadn’t been dead on his feet last time they had spoken, he probably would have brought it up. It would take time to track all of them down, and Caleb had not been in the right headspace to handle that kind of work previously. But things were more stable now, even if he cried at the drop of a hat these days.

“Danke. Now, Advanced Transmutation. The advanced students start on the third week of term, so you will have had some time to find your feet. I want you to take the lead with them.”

“Bitte?” Caleb wasn’t sure he understood what she was telling him.

“I want you to teach the advanced students,” Bettina clarified. “I will be on hand if you need, but I think you can handle it once you have a few classes under your belt.”

“Bettina, I have no experience.” Caleb was about three wrong words from hyperventilating. This was ridiculous. And irresponsible.

“I know that’s not true, Mr Widogast. Sorry, Professor Widogast.” The slip was deliberate. Bettina used his first name most of the time. She was making a point of his new title. “Astrid has spoken to your expositor friend, who said you have been teaching magic to one of your friends for over a year, and that you helped her run a summer camp for adventurers in Nicodranas. Expositor Lionett also insists you are very good with children.”

“My friend’s young son, specifically. He is not a difficult child.” Well, Luc was a handful for his parents, but Caleb didn’t have to worry about controlling him like they did. “And… advanced students are teenagers, not toddlers.”

“I understand this is a lot to ask,” Bettina said evenly. “I am asking because some of these children have been through a lot. My inaction, whatever the truth of it, will not instill confidence. You put Trent in prison. You were an adventurer. You can relate to them. Not only can you be a safe person for them, but you are interesting. Teenagers respond best to people who are genuine, and genuinely interesting. Even the children who have not been pulled into Trent’s web have just been through a war. Some of them may have lost family.”

“Bettina, I appreciate you are trying to explain your reasons, but it is not helping.”

“I will be there in class for as long as you need my help,” Bettina promised. “I will only leave when you are ready. I promise. You can ask for help at any time. I will help you with your lesson plans and give you all the advice I can. You will be fine. I would not suggest this if I thought you couldn’t handle it.”

****

Caleb went back home after his meeting with Bettina. He was still worried, but he was having a decent day overall, so it wasn’t overwhelming him at the moment. He stepped inside Beau and Yasha’s side of the house, the scent of freshly baked bread filling his nostrils. It was almost lunchtime.

Most of the Nein had gone home by now, except Essek and Caduceus. They were in the kitchen with Yasha, inspecting a fresh loaf of bread on the counter. The top of it was sprinkled with rolled oats.

“I think it worked,” Caduceus said. “Ah, Caleb. Rye bread? Does it look right to you?”

It smelled like the Vollkornbrot Caleb remembered from his childhood. “Ja. This looks close to what my mother used to make.”

Yasha and Caduceus high-fived over Essek’s head. Essek’s nose wrinkled a little bit in a moment of endearing, petty irritation. Yasha cut the bread into slices and constructed a sandwich to take to Beau, who was at the Archive. She buttered a slice and shoved it into her mouth before she rushed out the door.

Caleb sat with Essek and Caduceus. The latter finished serving up the bread with a generous spread of butter.

“Did you start this last night?” Caleb asked. It was chewy as intended and tasted like home, maybe a tiny bit saltier, but that was fine.

“Yeah,” replied Caduceus. “You were pretty out of it. We looped Essek in once you were out of the house this morning. This one seems doable for Yasha to make without us. You might have to help her.”

“I can do that.” He used to help his mother with the bread whenever he was home. The memories were not too painful today, just an ache.

“How was your meeting?” Essek asked. He had been hesitant to leave Rexxentrum until Caleb was a bit more settled, but the hourglass was almost drained of sand.

“Good, I think.” Caleb chewed, mulling the whole thing over. “Professor Weber is giving me her advanced transmutation students.”

“You look worried,” said Caduceus.

“I am. It’s a lot of responsibility. She thinks the older students need me the most. As a safe person. I was their age when I… when everything went to shit. She thinks we may have a few survivors of the program in the class, and other students will have lost family in the war.”

Essek’s shoulders slumped. He ate quietly.

“And the Professor doesn't think she can be that person?”

“She insists she didn’t know what Trent was doing, but she expects the survivors will only see the face of someone who didn’t help them.”

“That is very self-aware of her. Do you feel that way?”

“No. But I’m not seventeen years old.”

“True. Well, I think you have the tools to help the kids, if you feel up to it.”

“I… maybe. Bettina said she’ll help me in class until I don’t need her anymore.”

Caduceus nodded slowly, with a smile. “You’ll be great.”

****

Essek and Caduceus had dinner at the house, and intended to spend a few more hours there before teleporting to the Blooming Grove, where Essek would trance before heading off in the morning, only short of one big spell instead of two. Caleb almost wanted to ask him to burn a second spell to trance here instead, but he knew Essek found the Grove calming. And one of the few places he didn’t have to worry about the Dynasty or the Empire. Caleb wouldn’t take that from him.

But they had a bit of time, which Caleb and Essek spent in their room together. Caleb let a few of his dancing lights float around the space, so he could see Essek for the last time in who knew how long.

“You were better today,” Essek said softly, slowly unbuttoning Caleb’s shirt.

Caleb watched him concentrate on the buttons, memorising his tiny frown that also graced his face when focusing on intricate spellwork. “Being here is getting easier. Thank you for the bread.”

Essek chuckled softly. “I did very little.” He pushed Caleb’s shirt off his shoulders. “But I’m glad it made you happy.”

“The best bread is the kind made by someone I love.” He shivered a little in the cold. Essek pressed his lips to Caleb’s shoulder, remaining there as the seconds ticked away. Caleb got to work on Essek’s shirt, finding the strings on the back through sheer muscle memory. He picked the bow apart and slowly unravelled the lacing. He pulled Essek’s shirt over his head and kissed his collarbone.

They had a few more hours. Caleb intended to treasure every second Essek could give him.

Essek pulled Caleb’s ponytail free and ran his fingers through the braids he had made that morning until they twisted apart. He cradled Caleb’s head as they kissed. Vulnerability between them had been hard won, and now it was as easy as breathing. Easier, sometimes.

They separated, and Essek slowly dragged his thumb across Caleb’s lower lip. “I will message you every day I can.”

“You better. Or I will hunt you down.”

Essek smirked, and it did things to Caleb. “And if I misbehave? Will you give me detention, Professor?”

“Essek, I love you, but never say that again.” Caleb shut him up with another kiss. “I do not want one of my last memories of you to be… that.”

“Not so adventurous after all,” Essek teased.

“We are not bringing our professions into the bedroom. That will not go well for either of us.”

“Hmm.” Essek’s eyes were distant for a moment. “You are… not wrong. Whenever I hear the word Shadowhand, I think of my mother.”

“Could be worse,” Caleb said dryly.

Essek wrinkled his nose. “Yes. Well. That has killed the mood.”

“I can fix that. May I?”

Essek sat back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Do your worst.”

“Challenge accepted,” Caleb murmured. He shoved Essek onto his back, straddling his hips. Essek was a lot smaller than Caleb, though the force of his personality and his floating cantrip had once hidden that reality. Now, however… Caleb could keep Essek in place with his weight alone. And Essek liked it when he used that objective fact to their benefit.

Essek’s lips parted, and it took him ten seconds of shallow breaths to find his voice. “Challenge completed,” he said breathlessly.

“It’s one of my many skills, Liebchen.” Caleb knew his voice became extra husky when aroused, and he knew how much it broke Essek’s brain.

Essek opened his mouth again, but nothing came out except a soft, breathy laugh. He reached up and pulled Caleb’s hair until Caleb leaned down and kissed him hard. The throaty mmph noise from Essek was satisfying as fuck. It was very easy to get Essek aroused at the right moment. The harder part was finding that moment. He was sensitive to Caleb’s emotions, and it was hard for him to get in the mood if he had even the slightest inkling Caleb was not having a good day. For now, at least, it meant what sex they did have only happened under the best circumstances. It was a far cry from the last relationship Caleb had been in, where most of the sex had been after a bad day, all three of them on the brink of falling apart.

Caleb pulled back a little bit to lightly brush his fingernails across the sensitive skin of Essek’s lower abdomen, just above his remaining clothing. Essek’s breath hitched.

“Caleb. Please.” Essek was flushing red beneath the purple of his skin, turning it a lovely plum tone. Caleb kissed his stomach, and slowly undressed him like a long-anticipated present he was afraid to break. Essek squirmed beneath him, no matter how hard he tried to hold still to make the job easier.

“What do you want, Kätzchen?” Caleb said quietly, stroking the inside of Essek’s bare thigh. Caleb never used terms of endearment like this in casual conversation. He liked to save it for special moments, specifically because he knew it broke Essek’s brain very badly to be called things like kitten or sweetheart in Caleb’s own tongue.

Essek let out a shaky breath; his violet-blue eyes were half-lidded and he was out of his fucking mind. “I want… anything. Everything. You. I can’t think.”

“I know,” Caleb said, sliding off the bed, just out of Essek’s reach. “I like it that way.” He slowly unfastened his pants, watching Essek twitch in a half-aborted attempt to move closer to him. “Stay right there.” He let them drop, kicked them aside, finished undressing. He lingered out of reach until Essek bit his lip, gazing up at him with a silent plea. Only then did Caleb climb back onto the bed, settling between Essek’s shaking legs. “Let me take care of you, ja?”

Caleb caught Essek’s lips in a messy, breathless kiss as their bodies fit together at long last.

Later, they lay together under the covers. Caleb had extinguished his lights. Essek could see him perfectly well. Caleb had almost left the lights on so he could drink in Essek’s features for a little while longer, but he was sluggish and borderline mindless from his most recent orgasm. He would rather spend what little concentration he had on running his fingers across Essek’s features so he had a few more memories to keep him warm until they could meet again.

“I will stay until you fall asleep,” Essek said softly. “Then, I will message you tomorrow after I leave the Grove.”

Caleb hummed quietly, not trusting his voice beyond that. This goodbye was hard every time.

“I’m proud of you, Caleb.” Essek kissed him, and then pressed their foreheads together. “You will be an incredible teacher. You already are.” Caleb swallowed against a lump in his throat. He was not going to cry. He was not going to make this harder for Essek than it needed to be.

Somehow, he managed to find his voice. “I finally had a good example.”

Essek chuckled softly. “That may be the one thing in my life I did right.”

“It’s an important thing you did right, but not the only one.” Caleb found his hand, twining their fingers together. His grip would slacken in sleep, letting Essek extract himself without too much difficulty.

“I try to remember that. Thank you. Get some sleep.”

Caleb didn’t want to close his eyes, knowing Essek wouldn’t be there in the morning. But Essek had to leave sometime, and he was giving Caleb every moment he could spare. So Caleb closed his eyes and relaxed into the pillow.

“I love you, Essek.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

Sometimes they didn’t need to say it. It was always true, whether or not they put it into words. Tonight, however, they both felt just a little more fragile, a little more vulnerable, and the words helped.

And then Caleb slept. The last thing he remembered was Essek’s fingers dancing sweetly in his hair.

****

Waking alone, Caleb tried not to be too dour in the morning, but given Yasha kept trying to find things around the house to keep him busy, he was clearly not doing a good job. He had to meet with Astrid (and probably Wulf) later in the day to discuss work some more, and he needed to bring up the Volstrucker survivors. Maybe Astrid had already been working on contacting them, but it wasn’t clear. It needed to be.

For now, however, he let Yasha drag him out to the garden. He liked having his hands in the soil, coaxing life out of the earth. After dealing so much death in this world, it was nice to put life back into it. He knew Yasha felt the same. It also let him reminisce about some of his less painful memories of home. Planting green beans with his mother.

It was also a little easier to bask in the afterglow of last night out here in the sun.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Yasha asked. Caleb was glad Beauregard was already at work. She wouldn’t tease him, but he knew she would have to restrain herself.

“Ja,” Caleb said quietly.

“He’s soft with you. It’s lovely.” She watched him, and she saw a little too well. “You miss him.”

“A lot, ja.”

“You’re good for each other,” she said. “I’m glad you have him, even if it’s not all the time.”

Caleb knew his smile was incredibly sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Me too.”

Essek’s Sending reached him in that moment. “Hello, love. I have arrived at my destination in one piece. A little further away than intended, but unharmed. How’s your morning?” A slight pause. “I love you.” Ah, he’d realised he had three words left.

Full of warmth from the sun and Essek’s word economy, Caleb responded, “Hallo, Essek. Glad you are safe. I am gardening with Yasha.” She waved. “She says hi. We had leftover bread for breakfast. Talk soon. Love you, too.”

“That’s very sweet, Caleb.”

He chuckled, and it sounded a little more fragile than he would’ve liked. “Careful. I will start crying again.”

“Hey, that’s okay. I’ve been crying a lot, too. I think it’s a good thing.”

Maybe. Caleb found it too unsettling to have that view on it. He stood up from the ground, knees damp with morning dew, and dusted the grass off his trousers. Establishing a garden here, and actually putting his own hands in the dirt this time, felt permanent. Unless something went very wrong, they were going to be here for a long time.

Yasha hadn’t had a stable home for years, either. And she also had awful violence and loss baked into her past, and terrifying blank patches in her memory. It was easy to spend quiet time with her, because they understood each other in a way the others sometimes couldn’t.

They enjoyed a quiet cup of tea on the steps linking the back door to the garden. Yasha was partway through repairing the fence back here, and she insisted on working with it alone; magic would end the project too quickly.

The sun reflected in her whitening hair, glowing like the radiance inside her. She deserved all the gentle mornings; she wore them well. Yasha gazed out at the barest beginnings of their garden, and she smiled.

“This suits you,” Caleb said.

“I’m getting used to it,” she replied softly. “After so long, I get to just be a…” She caught herself. “Well. I’m not a wife.”

“For now.”

She chuckled. “For now. It’s nice here. I get to bake bread, and grow a little garden, and welcome the people I love when they come home. And I get to love whoever I want. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“You deserve it. You deserve peace.”

Yasha smiled into her teacup. “Beau tells me that every day. I think I’m starting to believe it. What about you?”

A short question, with a complicated answer. “Sometimes. I do not know if I will ever feel like I deserve this without reservation. It is getting easier. Having a mission helps, I think.”

“We can do this,” Yasha told him. She said it quietly, but with every ounce of determination she had. Yasha had a lot. Caleb was struck by her soft strength, as he often was. Letting oneself be gentle after years of violence and pain was one of the hardest things to do. Caleb knew that all too well.

Caleb held out his fist, and she bumped it. “Ja, we got this.”

And he actually believed it. If only a little bit.

****

Caleb had an easier time walking into Soltryce Academy this time. Starting from a far more energised and calm place than last time carried him through the memories. Entering Astrid’s office was still a little painful, but he was strong enough to handle it.

Astrid and Wulf were seated in armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading. There was a pile on the table between them, and evident gaps on the bookshelves. They had rarely gotten to read books from Trent’s personal collection. The silent fuck you was vindicating, even vicariously.

“The old man had some interesting material,” Astrid said in Zemnian, skipping over the pleasantries. They didn’t need them at this point. She messaged him frequently enough that it felt like they were simply picking up a briefly dropped conversation. They usually spoke Zemnian when they did not have non-speakers to contend with, and Wulf followed suit. They would occasionally borrow a word or phrase from Common if the sentiment worked better.

Wulf snorted. “Pretty dry reading. You’ll like it, Bren.”

Caleb shrugged. “Once a nerd, always a nerd.”

Wulf set the book on the table, stretching; his shirt rode up a little bit and Caleb kept his eyes on his face with a great deal of effort. “If you want more colourful reading, the smut shop you were asking about is on the north side of the market.”

“Kingsley asked me.”

“Uh-huh,” Wulf said flatly.

“Listen, you cannot flirt with all my friends and then take that tone with me.”

“Just did.”

Caleb resisted the somewhat mild urge to scream. Wulf and Astrid were both very good at putting him off-balance, in very different ways. “Whatever makes you happy, Wulf. Astrid, can we talk about Advanced Transmutation? I am going to explode if I don’t talk about this in the next ten seconds.”

Astrid had been watching his exchange with a cocked eyebrow, but she smoothed out her expression and gestured towards a third armchair, closer to the fire.

He sat down, holding one hand out towards the warmth. “Astrid, I say this with all the respect in the world: what the fuck?”

“The advanced classes are in a delicate situation,” Astrid replied. “Professor Weber and I want as many of the Volstrucker program survivors back in school as possible. You are a better person to work with them than Bettina, and with any students who lost loved ones in the war. She told you her reasons, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Aside from my lack of qualifications and the fact I never technically graduated from the Academy?”

“Bren, your practical experience outweighs all of that. Bettina will help you with the rest.”

“Astrid suggested you take the advanced students,” Wulf said casually, leafing through another tome as if he wasn’t throwing a bomb into the conversation.

Caleb felt an ache in his gut, and he had to close his eyes and compose himself. “Astrid. Why?”

“The Academy is about to throw those children into the world,” she replied quietly. “Whatever lessons you wish to impart, you have to impart them now. Not only that, but Bettina is not well-suited to teach survivors of the Volstrucker program. She has spent her entire life in the Academy. They will not take her seriously. Some may resent her for not doing something about the abuse happening right under her nose. She told you that.”

“How many survivors do you expect we will have?” asked Caleb.

“I am still trying to track them down,” Astrid replied, with an edge of frustration.

“I was meaning to talk to you about the Volstrucker.” Caleb had been racking his brain whenever he had the time and energy. There was no formal infrastructure to support the survivors of the program. If Caleb hadn’t met Veth, and then later the Nein, things could have gone very badly for him in so many different ways.

“Talk,” Astrid said.

“These people need help,” he said. “Unless we get that mental health support I asked for, we are effectively on our own. Even if the Assembly throws us crumbs, nobody can understand what it was like except others like us. We need to talk to each other. Regularly, if possible.”

Wulf’s eyes stopped scanning the page. “Do you really think Volstrucker will want to talk to each other about this shit?”

“Who else is there?” Caleb said plainly. “They--we deserve the chance to support each other. Regular meetings, if we can. A support group, I suppose. Low pressure. Just a group of people who understand each other going through yet another upheaval in a life filled with them.”

Astrid watched him closely, eyes narrowed in thought. “Interesting. I think I understand where this idea came from.”

“We got each other through a lot back in the day,” said Caleb. “But we weren’t equipped for it. There was no blueprint for what we were to each other, but we did our best. Until it wasn’t enough. And later, I had the Nein. I would not be here without them. I owe them everything. Not everyone has people like that.”

“I’ll find us a place and let you know,” Astrid said.

“Thank you.” Caleb had expected he would be a little emotional about it, so at least he was prepared to ward off tears. “Thank you so much.”

Astrid averted her eyes, gazing into the fire. “As for your job, most of the children in the program have been located. Some of their parents have pulled them out of school. I am… trying to talk them out of that. The last thing we need are traumatised, half-trained adolescents running around unchecked.”

Caleb was hung up on her wording. Most of the children had been found. “There are some unaccounted for?”

“Two. Felix and Nicolaus. They’re both seventeen.” Astrid didn’t need to point out why their age was a problem.

There was no time to panic; Caleb needed details. “What do we know about them?”

“I worked with them a little,” Astrid replied. “They are close, not unlike the three of us at their age. If we find one, we may find the other. They are from Blumenthal. The Crownsguard are keeping an eye out, but I do not trust them to handle this with the care this situation requires.”

“Specialisations?”

“Both Evocation.”

Caleb didn’t need to say aloud how bad this could be. Two missing Evocation wizards, on the edge of graduating the Volstrucker program, who had possibly had their memories modified and orders distributed. It had been a few months since Trent would have last had contact with them. The worst could already have happened. Then again, Caleb had been in Blumenthal not that long ago to visit his parents, and he hadn’t heard anything that would have given him pause.

“I was in Blumenthal a few weeks ago,” Caleb said. “If they followed through on an order, it was likely after that. I’d… like to think I would have noticed otherwise. Most people seem to agree that I am rather intelligent.” The dry humour probably wasn’t appropriate in this moment, but he needed to keep himself calm and sarcasm usually worked a treat. “In more recent times, I would assume word would have gotten back to you. Maybe we are not too late.”

“Optimism is a new look for you, Bren,” said Wulf.

Caleb would never call himself an optimist, but he could see why Wulf was uncomfortable, even if he hid it behind one part sarcasm and one part a veiled flirt. “Wulf, I have seen a lot of things in this past year alone that have… changed me. There was a time, not too long ago, when I did not expect to survive the week. And… look at us now. We are sitting here in Astrid’s office, reading Trent’s old books because he is stuck in a dark hole and cannot do anything to us. I spent the morning gardening with Yasha. My friends bought me a quilt because it reminded me of my mother. Things are better for me than they have been in a very long time. So, I am trying new things, like having hope sometimes.”

“Point taken,” Wulf murmured, averting his eyes. Tense. Uncomfortable.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the boys,” Astrid said. “Whatever happens… I think you should be there.

[mammoney-honey]

Summoning Circles: What to Offer the Brothers GN!MC

MC doesn’t need to set up anything to summon them since they have their pact but sometimes its just nice to add a bit of drama. It’s also a good way to get the brothers to accept Just Because gifts. So what would would MC lay out as an offering for their favorite demon in their pentagram?

Lucifer

Lucifer is hard to get gifts for because hes a man of few words and fewer guilty pleasures

MC does their best to keep an eye out for things he does like and finally sets things up when they feel that Luci needs a bit of a break

They mostly offer things that would make for a good date night but with one small exception: special gourmet dog treats 

He won’t admit it, he says Cerberus is just a well trained guard dog, but that big boy gets only the best and MC knows that Lucifer will appreciate the gesture

The rest is all about setting the mood so Lucifer couldn’t possibly say no to staying

The first thing to accomplish this is the finest bottle of hellfire aged wine, a special request put through to Diavolo for whatever he thought Lucifer would like most

And to accompany a good drink you need some good food as well. A charcuterie board supplied with recommendations from Barbatos and Luke. The little guy should be called a mouse rather than a dog with how much he loves cheese. It took a long time for him to stop talking about it

One of the things that MC looks most fondly on of their time with Lucifer was quiet nights in listening and dancing to new music. They didn’t always share the same tastes but they were always willing to give it a go

So MC would find a vinyl, the only thing Lucifer would listen to the purest that he is, of their most recent favorite song or band so that they could share it with him

The last thing offered is that which Lucifer would want above all else as his own, MC

They can think of nothing else that would gain Lucifer’s attention more than offering their full and complete self. His pride could never allow him to deny taking MC when they offer themselves so willingly

He appears in full demon form, he can’t think of who would be ballsy enough to try and summon him and he has to pull back on his full power once he sees its MC

“MC, my dearest love, the pageantry is appreciated but overall unneeded. All you ever have to do is call my name, all I wish is to hear my name on your lips. But now that I’m here lets make sure you are screaming it”

Mammon

He is another one who is hard to gift things to but for the opposite reason as Lucifer. He likes too many things, wants everything and so it makes it impossible to tell what would actually mean something to him

MC tries their best to lay out things that will show how much they love and appreciate their favorite demon

Money of course is the first thing that is set out but not just spare Grimm or human cash

No, MC will put gift cards out for Mammon’s favorite places or for a date that they can have together. It feels more personal that way and they hope it shows that they pay attention to the things he likes

Mammon has a wardrobe to rival Asmo’s but he insists that it all has to do with his job as a model. Gotta keep up appearances and all that yanno. Hes just a label whore though and everyone knows it

He also just melts at the idea that MC might be thinking of what he would look good in so if they put out a new outfit or accessory, even if its just new sunglasses or a belt, he just about explodes

He will scoff and say that hes not sure if human styles are really his thing but of course puts whatever it is on quickly

Next would be a very special edition of the TSL dvds, a directors cut that even Levi couldn’t get his hands on. He has watched it with MC so many times he could practically recite it but they were always borrowing from Levi so it was about time to start wearing out their own copy

The last two things are more personal, something that shows just how much MC thinks of and misses being with him

The first of that is MC’s favorite set of pictures they took with Mammon, a silly photo booth strip that captured their first kiss. MC had surprised him on the first snapshot and it showed a progression of him getting redder and redder before finally kissing them back

Lastly is a page from their diary, as intimate an offering as they can possibly give. Its from a day where the longing for Mammon was at its strongest and filled with sweet words of how much they miss their first man

Mammon is freaked out at first thinking he is being summoned by another witch and is confused to see MC before taking it all in

“H-hey you don’t have to go through all this. I mean of course The Great Mammon won’t say no to the the things he deserves but ... b-but you only ever need to say my name, there is no where I’d rather be than with you”

Levi

Levi has a bad habit of just buying whatever he wants but considering that he has so many fandom’s its not hard to find some piece or another he doesn’t have 

MC feels like his brothers don’t give much thought to his gifts though, just typing in a name they know and getting whatever they find. They want to give him something more personal and can’t just be bought and shipped in two days

MC starts to watch a lot of craft, cooking and cosplay YouTubers to try and put everything together themselves. It felt more genuine that way at least to them

MC tries to keep things diverse, hitting a couple of Levi’s favorites but mostly avoiding anything Ruri related since they are afraid of messing it up lmao

Instead they focus on the anime’s and games that they watched and played together. Almost like a collection of inside jokes that they are using to summon him

The first thing MC sets out is a prettily decorated plate of macrons, doing their best to replicate the colors and flavors described in the one bakery time management game they always played

MC also went through Levi’s super secret fanfiction accounts I will fight you he is totally a fic writer because he has so many self inserts and fix it fics  and wrote out comments for every single thing he had written. They printed them out not because they didn’t think he read them but to show that they were the ones that left them

Along with the comments MC also created art for Levi’s most beloved OC, creating cute enamel pins of them in chibi form with the cannon character he paired them with

 The last two things came as a sort of combo, a couples cosplay from the romance anime they had watched together. The protagonist had been a shut in otaku who had found his soulmate when they were reborn into his world and Levi had latched onto him immediately 

It had taken a lot of blood sweat and tears trying to get both of the outfits cannon perfect but damn it MC was not going to settle for anything less

At one point they forgot they were making it for Levi and just got caught up in the the drama that was finding the perfect buttons and trim color

Overall they were so proud of the sewing skills they just wanted to call on him the moment they were done so he could see but they got a hold of themselves so they could set up what they had planned

Levi was summoned into the circle still wearing his headset and fingers tapping at a controller that had been left behind

His demon side comes out at having been cost a serious match from the sounds of it but his anger turns to confusion at seeing MC and then into wide eyed amazement at all of the things in front of him

He started to gush about every single thing he saw before he realized that MC was there beaming at him 

“You went through all this trouble to prove that you aren’t a normie and yet you summon me this way?? J-just say my name like you’re supposed to! I kind of like hearing you say it anyway ...”

Satan

Satan surprisingly doesn’t like being the center of attention and thus doesn’t really like surprises or receiving gifts. He also doubts that anyone understands him enough to give him what he wants cocky ass that he is

The idea for the things to set out in his summoning circle came to MC when discussing love potions with Satan and Solomon one day. They were talking about how smell plays such a strong part and Satan let slip some of the things he might smell after MC listed some of theirs

So while MC doesn’t have much, well any, experience in magic or potions they do want to try to stir up those feelings those smells produce in Satan

The first thing he had said came as a surprise to no one, the smell of parchment and ink

MC used each of them as their own separate offering on the pentagram. They used a fancy new calligraphy quill dipped in green ink that matched his eyes to write a long love note for him

The ink was still wet on the parchment that they set down and left the quill and remaining ink as the second gift

The next thing he mentioned was another one MC expected: tea leaves

So MC just walked into their local tea shop and let their nose lead the way. Anything that caught their attention or made them want to keep smelling they bought, creating their own special blend just for Satan

It wasn’t necessarily something that Satan would say for himself but MC had started to burn different candles in their room when he would come to rant when he was angry, trying to find a scent that he could associate with being calm when they helped him work through the anger

Whatever candle seemed to work the best is the candle that MC sets out for him. Probably something woodsy, pine or balsam or even sandalwood. It brings back good memories for MC, kissing all those worries of his away and hopes it does the same

The last item is one that made MC blush when they heard Satan admit it, he had liked the scent of their shampoo

He hadn’t said that specifically but he had closed his eyes and described a scent that he couldnt place but that he adored and when MC was taking their shower that night it clicked 

It might have been a little lame, leaving a bottle of shampoo out for Satan but MC knew that when he realized what that scent he loved so much was that he would get the cutest blush

They weren’t disappointed when they summoned Satan. He hid his shock of being summoned this way well, taking his time to walk around the circle and examine each offering. He immediately knew where they had gotten the inspiration and teased them about being such a sap

He stopped when he got to the shampoo though, not sure how that fit into the equation until he smelled it. It dawned on him and there was that blush that he tried to hide by turning his face away

“You always did like to make things difficult on yourself didn’t you? I’m only ever a call away for you kitten. Now come here and let me really breath you in, you’re simply intoxicating to me and I can’t stay away.”

Asmo

Asmo is never shy about when he doesn’t like gifts that people have given him but he has only ever cherished what MC has gotten him. Every small trinket and gift he has on full display in his room and he will wear something that MC got them when he misses them the most

He also will do it when he wants to bother his brothers and show off that MC simply lavished him in gifts (Mammon and Levi are the only ones who fall for it lmao)

So MC decides to offer Asmo things that will allow him to parade around their love for him, things to keep them close when MC isn’t there

The first thing that MC gets Asmo is new nail polish, a color that they agonized over finding because they wanted it to match his eyes perfectly

Asmo has a very organized planner, its how he keeps track of all the events he is invited to, when he has dates, who hes slept with, who hes going to sleep with and everything in between

MC commissions custom made stickers for him so he can decorate the pages of his planner even more. Specifically a whole sheet of cute stickers of them together he could use for when they planned date nights

The next thing was something for Asmo’s room which he was always changing and refreshing so it looked forever interesting for Devilgram pics

MC gets a large print of Asmo’s favorite picture of them together and puts it in a beautiful frame that perfectly matched his favorite decorating style. Perfect to show to the world that Asmo was their favorite demon and that they looked so good together

And so they can take even more pictures of themselves together MC buys a Polaroid camera for Asmo. His phone will always be his favorite thing to take pics on but this way they could have them printed instantly and it continues to let him be trendy

Lastly MC gets Asmo a necklace. A dainty rose gold chain that he can wear with practically everything and with a diamond accented heart shaped locket that could easily be tucked away if needed. It was an enchanted locket, thanks to the help of Solomon, and it warmed when MC was thinking of him

Its the first thing Asmo grabs and quickly puts on, showing it off for MC

“Oh MC you are simply the cutest thing I have ever seen~ I’m sorry I don’t have something to give you in return. I hope the fact that my heart beats only for you will make up for it, now come here I’ve been without kisses too long.”

Beel

Its SO hard not to just grab whatever is in the kitchen at the time and throw it in the summoning circle and call it a day for Beel

But he is more than just his hunger and MC is always striving to show him that they understand that 

It was harder than expected, just because asking anyone what Beel might want always got them food answers. They thought Belphie might be helpful but only got told “he probably just wants a nap ... its what I would want”

MC starts to think of all the most special moments they had with Beel, trying to think what about them made them so memorable and they knew for a fact that it wasn’t the food

The first thing they come up with is a banner that MC made to cheer him on at one of his games. It had gotten a little tattered and torn because it had rained that day but they just couldn’t let it go

Mostly because Beel after winning had ran up into the stands and kissed them for the first time. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t ever kissed but they had always been the one to make the first move but this time Beel had come to them. Of course in the biggest gesture possible

It was cheating a little bit offering a cookbook, it was still food related, but it felt better than putting in actual food 

This particular cookbook was special to MC too, they had spent several months trying to recreate one of the recipes from it down in the Devildom when MC didn’t have it. Even their D.D.D had been no help in finding the human world dish they were trying so hard to recreate

It had finally been Beel who had found someplace that sold the food they had been craving. He had even been able to bring it back completely untouched just so that they could have it all though he didn’t complain when they offered him several bites from their fork

MC pulls the next thing from their own shelves at home, a well read copy of Lord of the Flies. The spine cracked and little notes about their favorite parts scribbled in the margin

It was one of the human novels that Satan had and one of MCs favorites from school. Beel had caught them reading it and thought the title was ironic but the more he watched MC get engrossed in reading the more curious he got

He eventually asked MC to read it to him, he actually liked books even if most didn’t take him for the type it was just that he had a hard time actually reading himself. He always got distracted by food but audio books always worked well for him when he was working out, it turned out to be even better when MC read to him when he was eating

It was the best of both worlds for him and he found the story actually pretty funny, slightly worrying MC but they figured they couldn’t blame a demon for getting enjoyment out of a story like that. He did find their lack of food concerning though so at least there was that

One of the things that Beel often complained about when MC was living in the devildom was that when he went to go eat they weren’t always there. Sure Beel would ask them to tag along whenever possible but it didn’t always happen. He would call them from the kitchen at times and tell them that he missed them

MC was sure the other brothers would have something to say about it but knew that Beel would genuinely enjoy the next thing MC offered. Amagnet with his favorite picture of them. It was MC caught in a candid he took, mid bite in a dessert he had made them and his hand could just be seen wiping some whipped cream off MC’s cheek

It was a way that Beel could have MC with him at his favorite place every time

The last thing that MC laid out was something that was inspired by Beel. He had once given them a coupon for a free meal by him and they had thought it was just about the cutest thing ever

They made him a whole coupon book of favors ranging from cooking any meal he wanted to recording his workouts for him and of course lots of coupons for hugs and kisses

Beel isn’t used to being summoned at all so hes slightly disoriented when he finds himself suddenly in the human world. As soon as he sees MC though its nothing but smiles and he doesn’t even notice the gifts until after

“MC did you know I was thinking about you? Sometimes I just say your name and hope you will appear ... so if you ever think of me just say my name. I want to be here, even if its during dinner” 

Belphie

Belphie is not one to beat around the bush at all. He is a creature of habit and just wants more of the same things that he already has. Dont fix something if its not broke right?

So its fairly easy to fill his summoning circle with things that he loves, just adding to his ever growing collection of happy nap time things

That isn’t to say that MC just grabs whatever blanket or pillows they have laying around, they still want it to be special for him

So yes the first two things they offer to Belphie is a pillow and blanket, there was never going to be anything else but MC spent a long time putting their love into finding just the right ones for him ... and still couldn’t find what they wanted

MC used this as an excuse to create something themselves for their sleepy boy. They dived deep into youtube and pintrest and spent more money than they care to admit on materials until finally they made what they wanted

The first was a quilt large enough for three cause the twins like to make MC a sandwich in a cow print pattern that matched his pillow and demon form marks, lined with the softest fabric she could find that was the same purple as his eyes 

His pillow was another quilted design, this time of a cloudy night sky with a sleepy cow jumping over the moon. MC stitched his name in pretty gold thread on the back long with a sweet ‘I love you’

There was one last fluffy thing to give to him, this one MC knew he would probably scoff and tease them about but they couldn’t help it. They saw the angry looking cow plushie and just could not walk away 

They have actually been sleeping with it when they miss him most and even if he doesn’t like the plushie the fact they have slept with it so much will make him a bit fonder of it

Even though they were pretty sure that Belphie knew every star in the sky MC couldn’t help but get a book with stories about the constellations. He might already know them all but they thought that he might still enjoy hearing them read to him as he drifted to sleep

The last thing MC has to offer him is also star related. A star map of the day that they made their pact. It was the day that MC had fully forgiven everything that had happened before and their relationship had truly began

When Belphie was summoned he was half asleep but knew who it must be even in his sluggish state. He gave a big yawn and looked around at all the things around him 

“At least things are already set up for the perfect nap, including having you. MC next time just say my name alright? Its much more of a drag this way ... and I want to know when you are dreaming of me”