Mint Choco, Ms. Do Re Mi, and Mr. Fa Sol La Si headcanons. go-
Someone who wants to hear about the pets as well as a cookie? That's a rarity!! :D!! I'll be shortening the pets' names to Ms. DRM and Mr. FSLS for this post!!
- Mr. FSLS was taught by a conductor much like him, one that was a very strong critic... And a generally very bitter person. The mentee has become the mentor in the best and the worst of ways.
- Ms. DRM once went on a lovely vacation to the Ananas Islands and hasn't returned since. Ms. FSLS believes that she's just taking her time there, since he would know best, but Mint thinks otherwise...
- Mint Choco often beats himself up on his ability to play because of the way he was taught. Sometimes he gets incredibly emotional and stressed when he's alone if he cannot play a part right. He's a perfectionist, after all.
- In times where Mint Choco was upset and didn't believe in his own playing, especially in his younger years, Ms. DRM would often come into his room to cheer him up, being like his motherly figure and all.
- Without Ms. DRM around, and Mint Choco mostly on his own, he often reminisces about the words of advice and other teachings he was given by her...
- Mr. FSLS's words of advice still ring in Mint Choco's ears whether or not he's around during a performance or anywhere else. Mint understands the harshness and gets the advice he needs out of it, but... It somewhat hurts to think about him.
- Sometimes Mint's critiquing of himself will cause him to cry during performances. He still plays 'perfectly', just not to himself. When questioned about it, Mint replies that he was simply 'overwhelmed by the emotion of the music'.
- Mint Choco lives mostly on his own, but sometimes Mr. FSLS visits him to make sure he's in proper shape and still playing as he should. Mint dreads times such as these.
Would you be inclined to write an episode tag to what lies beneath the stones? There was just a lot of Jacob h/c (physically and mentally) in that episode that I thought you could write very well.
Okay, I cannot describe to you how much I love that episode. Everything about it is just…ugh it’s so good. I love it, and so I had to do this prompt justice, which is part of the reason it’s taken so long to get out. So, thank you so much for asking for this :)
Also, sorry if this feels all over the place. I’ve just got a lot of different thoughts and feelings about the whole thing and they were practically clawing at each other to be put in this. I really hope you enjoy :D
When Jacob finally closed his computer, itwas well into the morning of the next day. Tiredly, he ran a hand through hishair and rubbed at his eyes. He got up and started making his way for theBackdoor; cheating every once in a while to get a quick ride home was somethingthey all did and he couldn’t find himself feeling guilty about it.
When Jacob stepped through the Backdoorinto his apartment, the first thing he did was head to his freezer, hoping hehad an icepack in there. His cheek hurt like a son of a bitch. The shapeshifterhad packed a hell of a punch. He was sure to have a bruise there for the nextweek or so.
Despite everything, Jacob found it ironicthat the one bruise he’d gotten on the whole mission hadn’t been from his dad.It was a stupid thought, and he knew it. His dad wasn’t an idiot; if he’dattacked Jacob, his son could have easily called the cops. Jacob didn’t need toworry about getting kicked out of the house anymore like he used to, and theyboth knew any sort of respect Jacob hadheld for his father that would keep him quiet had died out long ago. His fatherwouldn’t have lain a finger on him, no matter what threats he made.
The thought made Jacob chuckle bitterly tohimself. Liar father like liar son; maybe his apple didn’t fall as far from thetree as he wanted everyone to believe.
Jacob shoved some things around in hisfreezer, disappointingly coming up empty on the icepack front. Instead, hegrabbed a plastic baggie, filled it with ice, wrapped a dish towel around it,and then pressed it against his face. He winced through the pain of it but kepthis makeshift icepack there nonetheless; he didn’t want to worry the otherswith an overly swollen face.
Jacob shuffled out of his little kitchenand slumped onto his couch. He swung his legs up on it and rested his head onthe arm of it, closing his eyes. Despite the exhaustion he felt, he knew sleepwouldn’t be coming. His body felt sore from the fight with himself, and hisbrain was still a tangled mess from the different fight with himself.
He regretted it all. The telling hisfather, but also not telling him the important stuff. He regretted lettinghimself get distracted on the mission, and he also regretted not finishing itonce and for all. Despite the ominous message he’d left his father with, it wasn’tover. It wouldn’t be over until Jacob told him everything, but everything was a lot. He wasn’t even sure he couldget his father to actually listen to him long enough to get it all out.
He wondered how soon Cassandra would startbugging him about it, asking him about his childhood. He wondered how long itwould last for them all to try to avoid upsetting him while making sure he wasokay, but also ignore the situation because they would undoubtedly think it washow he wanted them to handle it for him. And maybe he did want them to ignoreit, but at the same time he was so sick of ignoring things. He was so sick ofletting them fester until it got to the point where he could actually believethat that shapeshifter had been Cassandra. That he’d actually believe she wouldsay those things to him.
He huffed out a sigh, shaking his headslightly. He couldn’t believe he’d thought she would say those things. Sweet, gentle,caring Cassandra basically telling him to screw off; he wasn’t needed. He wastoo messed up for them; he’d overstayed his welcome.
Maybe he’d only believed her because itwas what he was so afraid of hearing. All throughout Peru it had been thenumber one thing he’d been scared of. They’d realize all he brought to thetable was a few history facts, a good punch every once in a while, and a pastso fucked up that he couldn’t even function like a normal human being with hisissues with trust and abandonment and not being good enough.
He snorted to himself. Who was he even kidding? Of course he’dbelieved it was her. He would’ve believed it if it had been Ezekiel too. Hewould’ve believed any one of their faces saying it to him, even now, because hefelt it was inevitable.
Maybe it was.
Hell, if his own father had felt thosethings, why shouldn’t these people? He’d only known them for, what, a year ortwo? How could they possibly be able to care about him that much that they’d beable to look past all of that? They’d met his father; they’d seen the type ofmonster he could become.
Jacob hadn’t even realized he had tearsrunning down his face until he turned his head, good cheek pressing into thearm of the couch. He felt stupid. He shouldn’t be this upset; nothing bad hadhappened yet. He had taken a step in the right direction, standing up to hisfather and changing his name on that stupid paper.
He did good.
And, yet, he couldn’t forget that scaredboy he’d been, constantly worried about how others felt about him andconstantly changing himself just to fit in. He’d been a chameleon all his life,constantly changing his colors to be the thing people wanted to see – becoming thething his father had expected him to be.
He just wanted to pick a damn color.
Jacob tossed the icepack onto the coffeetable in front of him and got up, heading towards his room. He fell into hisbed and yanked the covers over himself, not even bothering to change into morecomfortable attire.
Sleep came slowly, but it was better thanhe had expected.
~~~
When Jacob woke up the next morning,sunlight was streaming through his window and onto his bed. On his bedsidetable, his phone flashed up messages at him. Cassandra, worried and quicklytyped. Ezekiel, lazily typed and offering to grab him a bagel on his way to theAnnex. Eve, concise and short yet filled to the brim with that special way sheknew how to care about someone.
He felt warm inside, a smile slowlygrowing on his face.
He was hit with a sudden memory of wakingup as a kid, about to get ready for school, and deciding who he would be forthe day. Would he be Stone, the Football Star? Jake, the Average GradeAchiever? Son, the Hard Worker? Dumb Son of a Bitch, the scared little boy?
But, now, none of those titles felt right.And, even then, they would’ve changed several times in just one day. After last night,he’d realized something. He had a choice. He could choose to be the coward hisfather grew him up to be or the fun-loving oil-working idiot his friends allthought him out to be or Oliver Thompson or James McKelvie or GriffinGriffould. But he didn’t want to be any of those. He wanted to be Jacob – just Jacob.
He decided to choose a new title, one all on his own; he picked onehe’d keep for as long as life let him.
the new cookies? chess choco/earl grey? (i know their stories aren’t finished yet, but maybe do what you can)
Floating there. Lurking. Always watching over every action made while sobbing in silence over its lost half. Earl Grey dreaded having his pet around. Yes, he had promised to take care of it since the other half had been accidentally destroyed, but it... It served as a constant reminder of his mistakes. He was better than his past self, yes, but it was this- this thing that caused him doubts so often.
Recurring thoughts of smashing it to bits crossed his mind, but he could never...! That would only exemplify his mistakes even further- prove to himself how he is no better than just some lowly servant who can't even do the simple task of keeping glass- floating glass, even- from shattering. And yet... Feeling those eyes watching over him felt worse and worse with each passing day. Scrutinizing, sizing-up, pointing out the smallest mistakes. Agh, he never truly was good enough for this position if there were so many little mistakes each and every day!
Through each day, the hotelier would attempt to keep smiling through every prod at his actions. Despite how the smile would always stay, it didn't take more than a few moments of staring to see that something was going on. Hell, two children knew that Grey was struggling all too well. Within the kitchen, one of the busiest and most critiqued areas, Chess Choco would watch the hotelier attempt to focus on all the minor mistakes he was making. To these two, the mistakes weren't noticeable in the slightest, yet they couldn't help but see that smile on their caretaker's face falter now and then.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Pawn Black?"
"We share our thoughts always, Pawn White. However, isn't it a bit-"
"Brash?"
"Rash."
"Same difference!"
The two pawn's chittering continued, a plan formulating in both of their minds.
"We need to help Pops!"
"Earl Grey does require our help in some way."
They recall a phrase that Grey had told them both time and time again. "If you have someone around you that does nothing but make you feel uncomfortable or bad..." There was some other part that they both skipped out on. It was not that the two didn't hear, they just didn't understand the prospect of 'communicating to solve qualms' quite yet. The two of them may be smart, but that could not compare to the hotelier's extensive vocabulary. "...do be sure to cut them from your life. You do not deserve to be treated with anything less than respect."
"Plates can't be cut!"
"Plates can be smashed instead."
White stacking on top of Black, the one holding up the other would keep steady, knowing the one above them would easily be able to snatch and smash what was causing their caretaker so much distress. Not a moment later, the two would be waddling across the kitchen floor, barely tall enough to reach Earl Grey's height. Thankfully the awful pet plate always kept itself close to the hotelier's shoulder height. Thank goodness the two were too engrossed by cooking some sort of soup that the two didn't care enough to tell what flavor it was. There was a small stumble from the two, though it was thankfully not enough to draw attention.
"3..."
"2..."
"GO!"
Pawn White quickly snagged the problematic plate, plucking it from the air and tossing it against the ground with as much force as they could. All the two heard was a panicked 'Wha-?!' before the shattering of glass was heard through the entire kitchen- and perhaps even in the rooms next to it. A still second would pass, then the twins could smile at their victory.
"Goodbye, baddie!"
"Good night, villain."
And though the two were gleeful to see the pile of glass and the shards that scattered across the floor- the hotelier himself... Was far less than what anyone could describe as 'happy'. In shock could be a far more accurate descriptor, though the amount of despair that was seen behind those glasses entailed an emotion far worse. Chess Choco, they- they couldn't possibly have done something like this! And yet, staring down at the shattered remains of his pet... Through a shaking voice, Grey was barely able to keep his voice from rising above his naturally soft tone...
"Do- do you... Either of you... realize wh-what you have just done...?!"
Wandering the grove of the Millennial Tree was an activity that Pomegranate had gotten used to as the days passed by. Initially, it was nothing more than observing the wildlife and how her Master may be served by the inhabitants, as this place would fall under the same curse she endured years prior, yet... The young priestess found herself wandering now for other reasons. The way the leaves swayed, the way the life around her skittered about in cautiousness, the friendly nature of those who resided within this wooded area... It brought her peace her heart yearned to receive once more upon leaving such a blessed place.
Looking through the trees, Pom could make out a figure in the low-hanging branches. Whoever it was seemed to be running her way. With curiosity, she stepped out of the figure's way to allow it to pass by. Though, with the pace that this someone was more than likely sprinting, she was sure this other was going to slam right into a tree. She stood, waited, watching intently.
And wouldn't she know it, another royal figure came by with a pace faster than any horse she'd ever seen. It nearly made Pom flinch how hard that blur of pink had rammed itself into a tree. With growing curiosity and without a sense of concern, the priestess approached the other. It seemed like... A princess? A groan of a pained yet sweet voice came forth, and with the other reaching a hand to grab at a crown rather than its own body, Pom had confirmed that this was undoubtedly a princess.
Silence would pass over the two for a while, but soon enough this previous blur began to try and spark a conversation with Pomegranate. "I was just trying to get away from my guard so I could explore on my own for once!" Independence. An unfamiliar concept. "And what about you, Little Miss Red?" Being directly addressed to as something that wasn't insinuating her being beneath was... New. How conflicting. "...I came to scout for my Master." Pom's voice came out quiet, a stark contrast in comparison to the princess' rowdy, bombastic voice. Though the pink cookie seemed to be awaiting a further response, she got none. Instead, Princess continued the conversation herself.
"Why? Do you get some kind of prize for it?" Another pause in the conversation, one that had the young priestess thinking. She had never thought of what would happen with her successes, only her failures. "I... I do not get punished." The unsure tone in Pom's voice was only reflected by her cracking expression. For many years she had been told she was not permitted to do such a thing, yet this stranger was breaking her? What was it about her that caused such an occurrence.
"That sucks! You should get someone else to be your 'Master'!" That loud voice brought Pommy right out of her thoughts, and the unexpected touch of silken gloved hands being placed upon her cheeks certainly do her any better. "Why would you even want someone like that, silly?” Once again, thoughts Pom would rather not think of, yet they sank her heart to think of an answer. “It sounds like they're an awful person! ‘Punishments’ are only given to bad people by other bad people! And you don’t seem bad at all!" As ironic as it may be to her mind, it was the only answer that she could dare to muster to this friendly forest visitor.
The magician's words spilled endlessly. There was no end to this utter torment that the violinist had to endure as the happy-go-lucky magician continued to speak with no signs of stopping other than a deep breath to catch up for the lack of normal breathing he held when speaking.
Normally, Mint Choco found this endearing, and could listen to his excitable partner for days and days on end. But now? He couldn't care less for that freckled fellow and his eager bouncing as he talked repeatedly about the same selection of fans with the same selection of generous gifts that he never even specified what they were. Perhaps it was just his migrane speaking, or the fact his concert was cancelled due to unexplained reasons, but he just... Couldn't stand this.
Here and there, the violinist would throw in a groan or grumble, which wasn't awknowledged. He hoped he'd be asked what's wrong without having to rudely interrupt his love's speech. However, there was no success. Maybe he did have to interrupt the ever-talking musician?
Mint took a deep breath and sighed, this chattering was getting to his head. It was like every word was whacking his cranium with an metallic baseball bat. Painful and ringing.
"Cinnabun-" He strained himself to start, yet was ignored. Was this on purpose, or...? "Cinnamon, dear, I-" And again, the card handler spoke over him. This pain was welling into anger. The musician told himself he shouldn't get so upset by this, and yet- "Cinnamon, can I-" -this was bullshit.
"CINNAMON. SHUT IT." Mint growled, voice raised to a near shout. He could see the magician flinch and look back at him with the color of his eyes shrunken in sudden fear. He finally shut his mouth, but he wound up taking a step back and quietly apologizing. Profusely and repeatedly. Like a little kid trying to plead for mercy of an adult. It was only now that Mint Choco realized that shouting around this cookie was a large mistake...
Hiding under fallen leaves and branches, the young centaur clasps their hands over their mouth as they peered out into the darkened forest. They could feel their chest rising and falling, but their breath was falling short. Trembling, they could only barely tell what was occuring before them.
The archer, a fellow protector of the forest, bow at the ready... Aiming directly for a young priestess. "You are so very misled, protector." They heard the crimson cookie speak, raising her mirror and hearing the leaves crunch as Wind Archer took a step back. "How so?! Not as if I would believe you." His voice was commanding, wings spreading and fluffing for an attempt at intimidation. The poor storyteller couldn't see the priestess any longer, yet the voices continued.
"You are shackled to what you believe is your destiny." Gentleness, whether falsified or genuine, was found within her voice. "I am tied to my own, but that does not mean you and your sibling will be trapped to the same fate. I am here to free you with scarlet blood. The Millennial Tree is not as gentle in nature as he appears to be, is he not? Strict, yes?" Despite its calming- somewhat truthful- nature, Fig's body was wracked with shakes that they couldn't remove. Memories they'd rather not have.
They remember to Millennial acting upon them, their hand gently moving to under their leafy chestplate as they feel over the carvings left by the tree to prove their loyalty to the deity. Being given such was agony... It still ached to this day.
"Falsehood! Retract your words, fiend!" Demanded the archer, letting off a warning shot, knocking the mirror away from the pacifistic assailant. The shattering of glass echoed through the torn forest as another arrow was drawn. "I do not intend on listening to you, so take your leave and never return!"
"Perhaps you are not the one who will listen..." Spoke the dark worshipper, turning away and beginning to shuffle herself back into the darkness from wence she came. "...but there is another. It is certain."
Krieg looked at the doctor. He had come to get his arm popped back into his socket and get his bruises looked at. He knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anybody. They said not to. Don’t tell anyone or he would come after Krieg.
