ASCHTRONOMY

Asch

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Asch notices your habit long before he understands it. To him, it doesn’t look like distraction, it looks like abandonment. Your eyes glaze over mid-march, your responses lag seconds too late, your body still moving while your mind is elsewhere ━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ In Daemos, that kind of behavior is synonymous with soul instability, possession, or impending death. The first few times it happens, Asch’s temper flares immediately. He snaps orders at you louder than necessary, barked commands sharp enough to cut through stone, convinced you’re ignoring him or challenging his authority

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When you don’t respond right away, his irritation turns into something far more dangerous alarm. He has seen people lose themselves before. It never ends well

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ The moment it truly unsettles him is when you almost get hurt because of it. You drift while walking just for a moment and don’t notice the edge of uneven ground or a threat nearby

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Asch grabs you harshly, yanking you back into place, flames flickering unconsciously around his hands as he demands to know what spell you’re under. But when you come back fully confused, breathing unevenly, apologising too fast, eyes wide with shame instead of defiance his anger stalls. You don’t look rebellious. You look small. Vulnerable in a way that makes his chest tighten uncomfortably. He orders you to stay close after that, tone sharp, refusing to acknowledge that what he’s really doing is keeping you within arm’s reach

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Ava is the one who finally forces the truth into the open. She notices the signs immediately the pacing, the murmuring under your breath, the way you seem more present in your own head than in the room

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When Asch accuses you of carelessness or weakness, Ava snaps back at him in a way only she can get away with. She explains maladaptive daydreaming bluntly at first, in 'Human' terms, that it’s not intentional, not laziness, not disrespect. When she sees the confusion on all their faces, she reframes it in language they understand. She tells Asch it’s like your mind learned to escape into stories to survive, the way Daemos sometimes retreat into controlled trances or rituals to endure pain. “They’re not leaving because they want to,” she says firmly. “They’re leaving because their brain thinks it’s safer.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ That explanation hits Asch harder than he expects. He goes quiet in a way that makes the others uneasy. The idea that your wandering mind isn’t defiance but a defense forces him to reframe every interaction he’s had with you

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He remembers how often you apologize when you come back, how tense you get when someone raises their voice, how you never argue back. He doesn’t apologize outright his pride won’t allow it but his behavior shifts unmistakably after that conversation. He stops shouting your name when you drift and starts saying it lower, closer

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He positions himself subtly between you and danger when your focus slips. His hand finds your wrist or sleeve, grounding without yanking, anchoring instead of punishing

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Asch becomes hyper-aware of your vulnerability once he understands it. He hates that you leave your guard down for long periods it infuriates him in the same way his own past helplessness does. But instead of trying to force you to change, he takes responsibility for the space around you. He shortens patrols when he notices you slipping more often

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He assigns you positions where others can cover you without drawing attention. If someone startles you back too harshly, he snaps at them, not you. There’s a possessive edge to it not ownership, but protection like he’s decided that if your mind insists on wandering, then nothing will touch you while it does

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ In quieter moments, Asch watches you more than you realize. He notices the way your fingers twitch when you’re halfway gone, the way your breathing changes, the exact second your eyes refocus when you come back

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ If this leans romantic, those moments are heavy with unspoken emotion his hand lingering a second longer than necessary, his voice softer when he tells you to sit, to rest, to stay near him. If it’s platonic, the care is just as intense, only framed as duty: the prince protecting someone under his command

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Either way, Asch never lets you feel like a liability again. He doesn’t like that your mind escapes but he understands now that it kept you alive. And that, to him, is not weakness. It’s proof that you endured

Rhys

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Rhys notices your maladaptive daydreaming before anyone else but unlike Asch, his first response isn’t anger. It’s observation. He clocks the delayed reactions, the way your eyes unfocus mid-sentence, the subtle shift in posture that signals you’ve mentally stepped somewhere else

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ At first, he assumes exhaustion or stress; Earth is overwhelming even to trained Daemos, and humans are far more fragile than they let on. But when it happens repeatedly long stretches where you move and breathe but don’t truly register what’s happening around you Rhys begins categorizing it as something more complex. To him, it resembles a dissociative trance, unintentional and dangerously uncontrolled.

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Rhys is deeply unsettled by how exposed you are when it happens. In Daemos, entering any altered mental state without ritual safeguards is considered reckless at best and suicidal at worst. Watching you do it unconsciously, without wards or anchors, puts him on edge in a way he rarely allows himself to show. He doesn’t scold you or raise his voice instead, he quietly restructures his behavior around you

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He places you where threats are least likely to emerge, ensures someone competent is always nearby, and subtly shortens or simplifies instructions when he notices your focus beginning to fray. If you miss something important, he repeats it calmly, never calling attention to the lapse

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When Ava finally explains maladaptive daydreaming to the group, Rhys listens with intense focus. He asks questions not out of skepticism, but necessity. Duration? Awareness? Triggers? Memory retention? Ava explains that it’s compulsive, often tied to anxiety or trauma, and that pulling someone out of it too abruptly can cause distress

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Rhys immediately reframes it as a maladaptive coping mechanism, not a behavioural flaw. The word coping is what changes everything for him. To survive long-term psychological strain without magic or ritual support, the human mind created an escape route. Inefficient, risky but effective enough to keep you alive. Rhys accepts this with quiet gravity

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ From that point on, Rhys becomes your most consistent anchor. He never startles you awake unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he uses grounding techniques instinctively saying your name softly, lowering himself into your line of sight, giving you something tangible to focus on when you return

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He pays attention to patterns, learning what situations cause you to slip away more often and adjusting plans accordingly. If you apologize after drifting, Rhys gently stops you. “You did nothing wrong,” he says, tone firm but kind. “Your mind responded the only way it knew how.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ In a romantic reading, Rhys’ care is deeply intimate in a restrained way. He sits beside you during long stretches, presence steady and unintrusive, offering quiet conversation or silence depending on what you seem to need

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He asks about your inner worlds not to pull you out of them, but to understand what draws you there. He never pressures you to share more than you’re ready to. There’s a quiet sadness in his eyes when he realizes how often you chose imagination over reality because reality hurt more

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ In a platonic reading, the devotion is just as strong, mentor-like, protective, unwavering. He becomes the one you instinctively orient toward when you come back, because he’s always there, calm and unshaken

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ What affects Rhys most is the shame you carry about it. He notices the way you shrink after long episodes, the guilt in your voice when you realize time has passed

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ That bothers him far more than the daydreaming itself. Rhys believes deeply in efficiency and control, but he also believes that systems must adapt to people, not the other way around. He never frames your maladaptive daydreaming as something you must get rid off

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Instead, he helps you manage it safely, logically, and without judgment. To Rhys, survival strategies are not sins. They are proof of resilience. And if your mind learned to wander to protect you, then his role quietly, steadfastly is to make sure you always have a safe place to return to

Pierce

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Pierce notices it before anyone else does the way your gaze unfocuses mid-conversation, how your shoulders go slack like you’ve slipped somewhere far away without moving an inch. At first, he assumes it’s fear or shock

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Earth is loud, overwhelming, too alive. But then it keeps happening even in quiet moments. You’ll be sitting safely indoors, maybe near a window or curled on the floor, and suddenly your eyes glaze over as if you’re watching something only you can see. Pierce never snaps his fingers in front of your face or raises his voice to pull you back

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He simply waits. Standing nearby. Guarding. Watching the rise and fall of your chest until you return on your own. When you do, he only asks one thing, quietly “Are you hurt?” Not what were you thinking, not where did you go just whether you’re safe

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Your maladaptive daydreaming unsettles him in a way he doesn’t fully understand at first. On Daemos, dissociation like that usually came from trauma, curses, or magic backlash

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He watches you drift into elaborate inner worlds kingdoms, stories, versions of yourself stronger or freer and he recognizes something painfully familiar in it. Escape. Survival. Pierce understands living in your head to avoid living with your past. He has done it himself, replaying battles, words spoken by dying humans, commands he followed because he didn’t know how to disobey. The difference is that your daydreams are soft where his memories are sharp. Bright where his are soaked in blood. That contrast makes him fiercely protective of you

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When you explain haltingly, embarrassed that you don’t always mean to leave, that your mind just does it, Pierce listens with his full attention. No interruptions. No judgment. He kneels so he’s at eye level, enormous frame folding carefully, and nods once when you finish. “Then I will watch,” he says. “So you don’t disappear alone.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ From then on, he becomes your anchor without ever trying to be your leash. If he notices you slipping, he’ll gently ground you offering his hand, pressing his thumb against your wrist so you can feel his pulse, murmuring a single word like “Here.” He never drags you back harshly. He knows forcing someone out of their head can feel like ripping open a wound

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Pierce is surprisingly tender about the things you daydream. If you talk about them the characters, the stories, the versions of yourself that feel more real than reality he listens like they matter. Because to you, they do. He doesn’t call them childish or delusions. He calls them creations

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Sometimes, when you’re curled up nearby and muttering bits of dialogue under your breath, he’ll quietly ask questions later. “The warrior you spoke of… did they survive?” And when you look startled that he remembered, he simply shrugs. “It was important to you.” Over time, you realise he sees your inner world not as something broken, but as proof of how deeply you feel how hard you’ve fought to stay alive in your own way

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Your daydreams sometimes spike when Pierce leaves the room patrols, scouting missions, anything dangerous. Your mind fills the silence with worst-case scenarios, looping fears, imagined losses. When he returns and finds you distant, withdrawn into your head, he doesn’t scold you for worrying

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He sits beside you and removes his gauntlet so his bare hand can rest against yours. Warm. Real. Solid. “I am here,” he says, voice low and steady. “I came back.” And something about the certainty in his tone helps break the spiral. Helps remind you that not every story ends in tragedy not this one

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Pierce struggles sometimes, quietly, with guilt. There are moments when he watches you escape into your mind and wonders if being near him makes reality harder for you. After all, he is a daemos. A knight. A killer who followed orders without question. He fears that your daydreams might be a refuge from him. But every time you choose to sit close anyway resting your head against his arm, threading your fingers through the fabric of his sleeve to ground yourself that fear eases. You don’t see him as a monster haunting your reality. You see him as part of the world you’re willing to stay present in

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ And in a quiet, unspoken way, you help Pierce too. When he finds himself trapped in his own memories staring too long at nothing, jaw tight, breathing shallow you recognize the signs

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ You don’t demand explanations. You simply mirror what he does for you. You touch his wrist. Say his name softly. Bring him back. Together, you become each other’s anchors two people who know what it’s like to live halfway between worlds, choosing, again and again, to stay

Leif

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Leif notices your maladaptive daydreaming in the worst possible way at first in the middle of danger. One second you’re standing beside him, the next your eyes drift, body going still like prey freezing before a strike. His immediate instinct is irritation edged with fear

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ On Daemos, spacing out like that got people killed. His voice snaps your name sharply the first time, fingers gripping your arm hard enough to ground you, not gentle at all. But when you flinch not from pain, but from being dragged violently back into reality something in him halts. He sees it then. Not carelessness, not weakness. It’s dissociation. It’s escape, and Leif knows exactly what it looks like when someone leaves their body because staying hurts too much

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Once he understands, his behavior shifts not softer in the obvious ways, but more intentional. Leif doesn’t coddle. He positions himself between you and threats when your focus slips. He keeps moving, keeps talking, keeps you tethered with noise and presence

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ If you drift while walking, he grabs your sleeve and keeps you moving without comment. If you stare off into nothing while sitting, he flicks something small at you a pebble, a leaf, the edge of his finger against your knee pretending it’s teasing when it’s actually grounding. “Hey,” he mutters. “Stay with me. You can wander later.” There’s no shame in his voice, just urgency. He doesn’t want to lose you to the world inside your head the way he lost everyone who ever promised to stay

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Your daydreams fascinate him more than he admits. They’re elaborate, vivid stories layered over stories, alternate versions of yourself where you’re braver, loved more openly, never abandoned

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Leif pretends he doesn’t listen when you ramble about them half-embarrassed, but he remembers details. He remembers names. He remembers plotlines. Sometimes, when he’s lounging nearby pretending to clean his blades, he’ll casually ask, “That one world you made does it have forests?” And when you light up, startled that he paid attention, he smirks like it’s no big deal. But it is. He doesn’t let many people’s inner worlds touch his own. The fact that he lets yours in means more than he knows how to say

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Leif understands addiction even if yours looks different from his. He recognizes the compulsive pull of the daydreams, how they rush in when reality gets too sharp, too loud, too lonely. He doesn’t try to take them away from you. He’d never do that. He knows what happens when coping mechanisms are ripped out without replacements he lived it

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Instead, he becomes something solid in the real world worth staying present for. He pulls you into small moments: dragging you outside to feel the sun, teleporting you just to make you laugh, shoving food into your hands and insisting you eat now, not later. “You can disappear after,” he says lightly. “Just- eat first.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ There are moments when your daydreams turn dark spirals, imagined betrayals, endings where everyone leaves. Leif senses those shifts immediately

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He gets quieter then, more dangerous in a controlled way. He sits close, knees touching, and says blunt things like, “I’m still here.” Or, “If you’re imagining me leaving, stop. I won’t.” He doesn’t promise forever lightly promises were lies told to him before people vanished but when Leif says something like that, it’s grounded in action. He stays. He watches you come back. He makes sure no one interrupts the process. If someone does, they get a look sharp enough to cut bone.

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ In a strange way, you help Leif heal too. Your imagination reminds him that not everything has to be blood or survival or abandonment. Sometimes, late at night, when you’re half-lost in a fantasy and he’s half-lost in memories, you sit back-to-back both of you grounded by shared presence even while your minds wander elsewhere

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He never says it out loud, but you become proof that escape doesn’t always mean running away. Sometimes it’s just resting somewhere safe before returning. And if Leif has anything to say about it, that safe place will always include him

Noi

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Noi notices your maladaptive daydreaming almost immediately not because it’s obvious, but because he watches you. A lot. You’ll be mid-conversation, or sitting beside him sharing food, and suddenly your responses slow, your eyes drifting just past him like you’re looking through a doorway only you can see

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ At first, Noi panics. He waves a hand in front of your face, calls your name too loudly, nearly trips over himself trying to make sure you’re not hurt or possessed by some kind of human spirit. When you finally blink back into yourself and laugh it off, he looks close to tears. “D-don’t do that,” he says shakily. “I thought I lost you.” That fear never really goes away but it becomes quieter once he understands what’s happening

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When you explain maladaptive daydreaming, Noi listens with the kind of attention that makes you feel painfully seen. He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t question whether it’s real. He just nods, wide amber eyes serious. “So… it’s like your brain takes you somewhere safe when things get scary?” When you say yes, he exhales like something heavy has finally been set down. Compassion makes sense to him it always has

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Being targeted for it on Daemos taught him how precious it is. From then on, he treats your daydreaming like something fragile, not shameful. If you drift, he doesn’t yank you back. He sits close and talks softly, narrating small things to keep you tethered. “I’m still here. You’re sitting next to me. Johnny’s sleeping. Nothing bad is happening.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Noi becomes your emotional anchor in the gentlest way possible. He holds your hand whenever he notices your grip loosening from reality, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against your palm because he’s learned that sensation helps you stay. If you start staring off, he offers you snacks cookies, pizza crusts, anything he knows you like because eating keeps you grounded

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He praises you constantly when you come back on your own. “Good job,” he says softly, like you just did something incredibly brave. “You came back.” No one has ever made returning to reality feel like an accomplishment before, and it nearly breaks you the first time he does

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Your daydreams themselves fascinate Noi. He asks about them with genuine excitement, like they’re stories you’re gifting him. “Wait, wait tell me again! That one where you’re a hero?” He laughs, blushes, gets emotionally invested, cheering for versions of you that exist only in your head

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Sometimes, when you’re embarrassed and say they’re silly, he shakes his head fiercely. “They’re not! You made a whole world. That’s… really cool.” He doesn’t realise it yet, but he’s doing something incredibly important. He’s teaching you that your inner world doesn’t have to be hidden to be accepted.

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ Noi does struggle, though especially when your daydreams pull you away during moments he’s already afraid. When you go quiet while Asch is angry, or when danger looms, Noi’s anxiety spikes hard

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ He clings to you then, literally positioning himself in front of you even though he’s the weakest knight. “You can’t leave right now,” he whispers urgently. “Please. Stay with me.” It’s not a demand it’s a plea from someone who knows what it’s like to be overlooked, discarded, almost killed for being “too soft.” The idea of losing you, even temporarily, terrifies him.

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ But you help Noi just as much as he helps you. You reassure him when he feels useless, when he worries he’s dead weight without magic. You remind him that compassion saved Ava, saved him, saved you more times than he realizes

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ When he spirals, you ground him squeezing his hands, repeating his name, telling him he’s doing enough. Together, you become proof that softness isn’t weakness. That drifting doesn’t mean giving up. That staying even imperfectly is an act of courage

━━━ ．°˖✧ ˚₊ ⊹ To Noi, you aren’t broken for escaping into your mind. You’re strong for surviving the world in a way that kept your heart intact and as long as he’s around, you’ll never have to come back alone