#TUC Mareth

[aldoodles]

I heard it was Mareth appreciation hours!

[originalwinnercheesecake]

So what do people actually think the background characters in the Underland chronicles look like

Just wondering. From all the (amazing) Fan art I have seen of Gregor , Lizzie, and Boots the fandom seems to have a pretty cohesive Idea on what they look like. Luxa also seems to have a pretty standard image in the fandom (Though wasn't she on the cover of the first design of MOS) with the only differentiation being how far along she is in puberty. Reminder if she was in the overland she would be in the sixth grade.

Other characters though Like really what do people think they look like. In my head Mrs. Cormaci is a plump/rounder women and I thought for years I had read that in the books until I saw fanart of her being drawn as more slim. Then I reread part of TPOB and was like Oh it never says what shape she is, I guess I just thought she was bigger because she is always cooking so much rich sounding food for charities. Then I remember seeing some one post once that what if she was Hazard's maternal grandmother. His maternal grandparents live in NYC, and Mrs.Cormaci is mentioned to have had a daughter.

Well that is bitter sweet because on one had that means that Mrs. Cormaci's daughter has been missing for years and in fact died without her mother ever knowing what happened to her (she also would not have known when her father died). Gotta then wonder if Mrs.Cormaci giving Lizzie her daughters old cloths is more than just her trying to help the Campbells while also declutter her house. But that also means Hazard has at least one Grandma who is really grand, if this relation was ever realized then maybe Hazard could come up to the overland for visits and stay with Mrs. Cormaci. Also she would probably have pictures of her daughter that she could show Hazard so he could remember what his mom looked like. Anyway I really liked this theory and wanted it to be cannon, but then i realized that since Hazard's overland features are his black hair and green eyes his overland relations probably have them to, and was like oh wow I never pictured Mrs.Cormaci having green eyes.

Another character I think about is Vikus. In my head the males in the underland Henry, Mareth, York all have short close cropped hair because they fight so much. Or in Howard's a short stack of wavy/curly locks cut just short enough to stay out of his eyes when wet. I do love the fan art I have seen of Henry with long hair though. But When It comes to Vikus , I guess since he seeks peace and is better relations, I usually imagine him with long grey hair and a long beard. to me he winds up looking kinda like men in biblical stories. Solovet however is muscled with a near shaved head. She is on the small side and slouches a bit when trying to appear as a gracious hostess and that plus her wrinkles make her seem non dangerous. When she is in planing/battle mode though she stands perfectly straight and those seemingly kindly wrinkles disappear, and she just looks completely terrifying.

Dulcet and Nerissa are other cases. Dulcet is described as being shy and very pretty. But as someone who works in childcare I can say with certainty that her hair is most likely a mess, her simple cloths likely have stains and crayon markings all over them. This girl is a beautiful mess. Then we have Neressa whom everyone knows is a mess. Since she is constantly described as wide eyed, tired, frail, to thin, and wearing her long hair a loose pony tail. But I don't often see it acknowledged that she canonically wears multiple layers of cloths at once or that her cloths never match.

I said most of the men in the underland would have short hair, could Hamnet have grown his hair out longer in the jungle, to try and make himself look different from how he did as a solider. Likewise I also imagine his lizard skin cloths being frayed and raggedy at the edges, much different from whatever military uniforms regalians wear. Anything to help hims see something different when he looks into the water. Can we talk about how when Gregor first meets Howard he describes him as tall and really strong, Then during his time with the plague Howard looses like 20 pounds and has scars wear ever he had bumps. Howard likely could not even fit into his old cloths after getting better.

What do Gregor's parents look like. We know they are both thin and tired. His dad's hair has gone completely white. Grace's cannot be to far behind with how hard she works and being in a state of constant worry for her family. Do fans still Agree with the theory that Grace is white and the Dad is black?

Also one more thing. Why does everyone think any of the underlanders that haven't completely greyed over have silver-blond hair. Like I know Luxa has that shade. Luxa would also probably be blonde if she has been born i t he overland. But it only specified that a silver tint was part of what distinguished the underlanders. Personally I always thought they could have any hair color (examples I imagine Howard being brunette and Mareth having black hair) but that it would always be paler than an overland counter part.

Like I know and respect that the characters descriptions are vague on purpose, and that the fun is that we can imagine them looking in so many different ways. But like really how do people imagine their favorites look. What little we get implies that the characters do not fall into the young adult novels trope of making them all look super hot. They are scared, beat up, anxious, and some are wearing cloths that do not fit them, some are missing body parts. To me that makes them infinetly more fun to imagine than most YA novel characters

So seriously if you have any strong clear/headcannons as to what you think certain human characters look like, please share them int he comments.

[yesthefandomfreakblr]

Returning to the fic idea of Mareth and Ripred being forced to coparent Hazard/coexist and in the chapters where we really start to get heavy/into their psyche's we get flashbacks of their relationships with Hamnet and we get to see just how different he was, practically a different man for each, and Ripred has a habit of suppressing those memories until he's talking to Hazard about his family he lost and realizes he struggles to remember one or two of his pup's names because he's been disassociating/burying it so forcefully.

They're talking after living together for awhile, Hazard and Luxa are in bed, Ripred's reading and Mareth's going over paperwork, Hamnet comes up, Mareth says he just doesn't want to remember. He means 'not think about it' or 'not remember right now' and Ripred grabs his arm with such a desperation Mareth grabs his sword. "Do not forget him." He begs. "Please- do not force him away..." And it turns into a begrudging Ripred opening up to get his point across please don't forget Hamnet... Don't forget your love as I have mine...

It scares Mareth into softening a little towards the rat. Over time, Ripred learns to draw on painfully bittersweet memories for strength and not be so hurt by them. He remembers Hamnet to help him be strong in his new role of being kind and keeping peace. Mareth does the same. And after a LOT of character development, when they're struggling in perilous or terrible situations, they realize that they have not thought of Hamnet once for encouragement, but the other.

[deliver-the-light]

Hamareth+Judith sketches

“I know Solovet is hard on you, but you have to prove yourself to the others. She cannot promote you otherwise. Or is it not your desire to become captain?” (Age 18)

sparring session. Oof that jawline. (Age 18)

What good is your twin’s boyfriend if not to carry you after a long ceremony? (Age 20)

Judith, her best friend and that guy she was born being goofs after a long day of studying/training. (Age 19)

I headcanon Mareth as a gentle baritone, and Hamnet as a tenor (when he can be convinced to sing). Hamnet is much happier to sit and sketch and listen to his boyfriend compose music. (Age 21)

(Send sketch requests if you’ve got any. I’ve got a spark rn)

[returntoregalia]

In tomorrow's episode of Return to Regalia, Oona and Nate discuss chapters eleven and twelve of The Marks of Secret, in which the questers experience an earthquake, a flood, and an avalanche.

[cutter-kirby]

okay marethposting time i really like how an established character trait of his is that he is TERRIBLE at taking care of himself. like he refuses to get on a stretcher after gregor's escape attempt (he was bleeding profusely from his forehead at the time), instead trying to help andromeda. then later he offers to be the distraction for the spinner prison break before solovet shuts him down because she JUST stitched up his bleeding thigh wound. and THEN he tries to prepare food but solovet makes him prop up his injured leg. this guy has no self preservation and i love him for it

[prophecyofgray]

"[hazard]'s a nice kid," said gregor. "so was his father," said mareth sadly. Yeah okay there was some faggotry there

[overandunderland]

Do No Harm.

Mareth x Hamnet Fluff.

Fix It AU, Hamnet and Mareth reconcile their time apart, hamnets return and things left undone. Hamnet is having a hard time reassimilating. Mareth doesn't want to lose him again, and he's quite fond of being in Hazards life. (inspired by the Return to Regalia Podcast Hamareth propaganda episode in which I've been radicalized.)

There's a longer version that leans into a NSFW version of this(in progress) but you know 💅 who's actually checking for Hamnareth out here?

In the heart of the apothecary, nestled deep within the palace's labyrinthine embrace, the air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the sharp tang of crushed herbs. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world's ceaseless clamor was replaced by the soothing monotony of Hamnet's mortar and pestle. Each motion was precise, a dance of creation as he ground the herbs into a fine paste. For Hamnet, it was perfect. His time in the jungle had afforded him the proper knowledge needed to flourish here. He had to admit he felt thankful for Queen Luxa's appointment. It gave him something to do, some way to help. He noticed it also kept him out of view, his visitors being the occasional nurse or nanny.

"You are good with him," Hamnet said, his voice breaking through the rhythm of his work, carrying a warmth that seemed at odds with the cool, almost clinical atmosphere of the apothecary. The room, despite its embrace of spiced cleanliness, was a stark departure from the dank thickness of the jungle—a world Hamnet's attire stubbornly clung to. His clothes were a riot of colors and patterns that sang of distant lands and untamed wilderness. It was a statement, a declaration of his roots, and a testament to the life he had lived beyond the palace walls, making him stand out against the backdrop of stone and shadow.

Their reunion had been a whirlwind, a collision of past and present brought on by the urgent need for a cure to the plague that had gripped the land. Time, it seemed, had been a luxury they could not afford, swept away by the tide of necessity and duty. But it was during the trial of Solovet, Hamnet's mother, that the walls between them had finally crumbled. A lengthy trip to The Waters and several nights' stay in the hospital seemingly removed a decade of jungle from Hamnet's person. However, it would be impossible to wash away The Garden, to wash away the loss of Frill. That would forever stain.

Now, as Hamnet's gaze settled on Mareth, who carried his son in a piggyback embrace, a semblance of peace seemed to settle over him. Hazard, with his tousled curls obscuring his eyes, slumbered on, oblivious to the weight of history and the burdens of legacy that surrounded them.

"He is fond of you," Hamnet remarked, a simple statement that carried layers of unspoken gratitude and acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between Mareth and his son.

Mareth, pacing the room with a deliberate slowness designed to lull Hazard into deeper sleep, responded with a soft chuckle. "I share in that sentiment. He reminds me quite a bit of you in our youth—how it took us time to get you to open up," he said, his voice a blend of nostalgia and something unidentified. "It seems I find myself chasing that same goal once again."

A shadow of a frown threatened Hamnet's face, the beginnings of a storm that was quickly quelled by a practiced smile. In the past, there was no need for facades, no place for pretense. Mareth knew the depths of Hamnet's heart. At least—what he had allowed. Things were different now, they were men. They had both been soldiers, suffered greatly because of it. Yet here Mareth stood, wounded yes, but his resolve, remained unchanged. It had still drawn Hamnet, like a life's flame

"Adjusting to Regalian life again, it's been... tasking," Hamnet confessed, the words heavy, laden with the weight of unvoiced struggles. As he worked, extracting the essence from the herbs, his actions spoke of a man well-acquainted with the art of transformation, of extracting light from the depths of darkness. "My niece is Queen, my mother stands accused of endangering the Underland—a threat that once loomed over us all. It's a burden I cannot, will not, take lightly."

"I'd argue the burden I carry currently, is heavier." Mareth quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

He is heavier than he looks, how did you manage in the jungle?"

With a gentle gesture towards a small bed nestled in the corner of the apothecary, designed for those in less immediate need of care, Hamnet wordlessly invited Mareth to ease Hazard down onto its welcoming surface. The boy, even in sleep, seemed to find comfort instinctively, nestling into the bed with a contentedness that spoke volumes of the security he felt in this place, however unfamiliar.

Mareth then turned, approaching the counter where Hamnet continued his meticulous work, his hands never ceasing in their task. It was then he ventured, with a softness in his voice that belied the weight of his words, "This burden, Hamnet— isn't yours to bear alone."

At this, Hamnet's concentration fractured, his brow furrowing as he met Mareth's gaze. A mix of incredulity and pain flashed through his eyes. "Do you truly believe that?" he snapped, the words sharp, laden with years of unspoken fears and uncertainties. "That I hold no fault for everything that's transpired? That you harbor no ill will towards me?"

Mareth's response was a sigh intertwined with a grumble, a sound that tugged at the threads of memory within Hamnet's mind. It was a sound he had heard many times during their sparring sessions in youth, a prelude to concession or admission. The familiarity of it caused Hamnet's breath to catch. He was back, in the arena, pinning Mareth to the ground, exhausted, and embarrassed.

"I did... for a while," Mareth admitted, the words heavy, tinged with a resignation born of time and reflection. "Yet, as the days turned to weeks and your return was postponed, worry was all that brewed within me. Concern for you—your well-being, took precedence over any feelings of betrayal."

Hamnet's tense shoulders dropped, a visible release of the anxiety that had knotted within him at the prospect of Mareth's resentment. His relief was palpable, a silent exhale in the midst of the apothecary's herbal-scented air. For a moment, it seemed as if a chasm that had yawned wide between them was starting to narrow, bridged by Mareth's words of understanding and concern. Yet, Mareth wasn't finished. The weight of his gaze didn't waver as he took a step closer, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that hinted at the years of unspoken truths between them.

"You ask why I saved you in Hesperides? I preserved your life because that's the action you take for those you hold dear. Our bond transcended friendship;You were important to me, Hamnet. Your departure—it wasn't treachery, but it created an emptiness. I would have undertaken anything to convince you to remain."

At Mareth's admission, a pang of regret lanced through Hamnet's heart, a sharp contrast to the soft hum of the apothecary around them. His head bowed, a whisper of an apology escaping his lips, shrouded in a veil of shame. Crossing the space between them, Mareth placed a hand on Hamnet's shoulder, his touch grounding, a silent reassurance of his presence. "I did not mean to upset you," he apologized, the words soft, yet laden with a complexity of emotions that seemed to resonate within the confines of the apothecary.

Lifting his gaze, Hamnet looked up, his eyes tracing the contours of Mareth's face—a landscape marked by the passage of time and the scars of battles fought, both in war and in their youthful escapades. Each mark was a story, a memory of their shared past that spoke of courage, laughter, and the bonds forged in the crucible of adventure. There, in Mareth's features, was the essence of the man he had known and the changes wrought by time, yet the underlying truth remained—this was Mareth, humorous, loyal, and undeniably handsome.

The intensity of Hamnet's gaze brought a warmth to Mareth's neck, a recognition of the depth of their connection. It was a look that stirred memories of days long past, filled with the promise of youth and the unspoken words that lingered between them. That look held a call, one that had echoed in the depths of Mareth's soul, unanswered yet ever-present.

"I couldn't stay... I didn't want to—" Hamnet began, his voice faltering as he grappled with the words, the weight of his decisions.

"Do more harm, I know this," Mareth interjected, his voice a gentle balm to the raw edges of Hamnet's confession. "But you are here now, Hamnet. Your mother is confined to her quarters, your niece is Queen, Bartholomew's warrior is amongst us."

"And you are here." Hamnet added.

""Aye, and well we both know I was better of steering you clear of mischief. I recall you clinging to my every word."

"If they came from your lips." Hamnet admitted, their gaze catching one another's.

"If they had told you to stay—would you?" Asked the solider.

"Every instinct in me is screaming to flee once more, Mareth. I sense the weight of everyone's gaze upon me, and I'm aware of the whispers that fill these halls, but if you required it of me, I would stay."

"I require it," Mareth said, the words escaping him with a fervency that surprised even himself, his voice nearly breaking under the strain of emotions long held at bay. The promptness of his reply, the raw need evident in those three simple words, cut through the tension between them, prompting an unexpected laugh from Hamnet. The sound, muffled yet unmistakably joyful, reverberated through Mareth, awakening a cascade of sensations that he had dared not acknowledge until now.

The laughter, so genuine and unguarded, was a balm to Mareth's soul, a reminder of the man before him—not a figment of his desires, but flesh and blood, real and within reach. His initial impulse was to close the distance between them, to bridge the gap of years and unspoken truths with the simplicity of touch. His hands reached out, driven by a longing that had lain dormant, fingers inches from Hamnet's face before he caught himself, the suddenness of his own actions leaving him exposed, vulnerable.

The tension in the air was palpable, charged with the unspoken and the undeniable. Hamnet's sharp intake of breath was a silent testament to the turmoil that mirrored Mareth's own—a desperate need to belong, to be understood, to be accepted. And yet, in the vulnerability of the moment, Hamnet leaned into the roughness of Mareth's palms, an act of trust, of surrender.

Mareth, overwhelmed by the proximity, the shared warmth, felt tears tracing paths down his cheeks, the emotion of the moment breaking through the dams of his restraint. "Stay, and I will make sure you do no harm. If you, and Hazard will have me—"

The answer came when Hamnet bridged the gap between them, his lips finding Mareth's in a kiss that was both a seal of promises and the kindling of a fire long suppressed. It was deep, intense, a melding of desire and something far more profound that had been forged in the crucible of their shared past and the trials they had faced, both together and apart. In this kiss, Hamnet poured all the longing, all the fears and hopes he had harbored. Mareth's initial shock at the contact melted into an answering fervor, his own pent-up longing and affection bursting forth. He returned the kiss with an intensity that matched, then exceeded, Hamnet's initial desperation. Mareth's hands, initially hesitant, now cradled Hamnet's face with a tenderness that spoke volumes, grounding them both in the reality of the moment.

The kiss deepened, a confluence of years of suppressed emotions, unspoken words, and the raw, unvarnished need that had lingered between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. Mareth's response was instinctive, a natural counterpart to Hamnet's ardor, his lips moving with a passion that was both a claim and a surrender. It was as if, in this kiss, they were both seeking and offering solace, acknowledging the pain of their past separations even as they reveled in the present reunion. Breaking the kiss, they remained close, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. In that moment, filled with the soft sounds of their shared existence.

[haveihitanerve]

The males group chat: Because of course they have one- Howard: guys help dulcet wont stop making me flower crowns and i don't know what to do with them Gregor: help luxa keeps giving me scrolls with a wink and say to ‘open them later’ but all thats inside is a cracked carrot Mareth: help Perdita challenged me to a game of strip poker but she keeps cheating and now im cold Ripred: help boots and hazard have taken over training in the arena and i've locked myself in the supplies closet and they've all gone quiet and im scared Aurora: how the fuck did i get added to this

[twitchtips]

Hamareth moodboard

[rin-solo]

Cartoon Series Pt. 2 | Gregor and the Prophecy of Bane

This is part 2 in an art series for TUC!! I will probably do one wallpaper for every book/quest. Are you interested in seeing more of these? You can find part 1 on my profile, btw!

Yes, the style is close to Phineas and Ferb; Idk why but, for some reason, I fell in love with the way the characters look in this style.

Disclaimer: the bg is a stock image; the rest is drawn by me!

[aldoodles]

Transgender Mareth Underlandchronicles REAL!!!

Yeah!!

[emerdoodls]

hi tuc tumblr i have a question bc we all know i have no concept of how old any of these characters are no matter how many times i read the books (re: me thinking hazard and boots were the same age) how old are nerissa and dulcet and mareth bc i thought mareth and dulcet were the same age but the wiki says dulcet is like, 14-16, and nerissa is just ageless to me?? like. genuinely do the books say? do yall have hcs?? what's the vibe here??

[yesthefandomfreakblr]

The urge to write a 30 chapter novel about Mareth and Ripred coparenting Hazard and Luxa through the time after the COC and fully mourning who they've lost and Mareth having to confront and grow out of the hundreds of years old ingrained ideology of anti rat culture in regalia because even if he's 'one of the good ones' Ripred is just a gnawer and a very flawed individual but Hamnet loved him and trusted him with his son. And Ripred just has so many problems he needs to work through revolving around people of all races and he needs to grow and heal for Hazard. If Hamnet can love them both they can try and work together through the devastating political aftermath of the war, and keep the peace, and these kids, safe.

[overandunderland]

Truly fantastic world building. The difference in swords to highlight their fighting abilities. The emotion, the scenarios truly capturing their journey as a couple. I think Mareth and Hamnets story, the one we didn't get, was another reason why a certain Archer was made. Almost like the Underland knew a tragic love was lost, and it's being found again in a new pair.

The royal wedding is so captivating to me because I know in the brain of yours you've conceptualized how the weddings go, how the dances are. Truly my heart is weak at the thought of what we could have had. Which makes their story so tragic.

Which brings me to the unhinged section of my reblog:

DO WE SEE THE ARMS?!

I'm losing my mind over the beard and arms. God the BEARD. And the HAIR.

My husband watching me pace the kitchen ranting about his arms. Like I might just write a fic of Hamnet and Judith watching The King and Mareth giving lectures to the latest recruits. A pregnant Judith slowly picking up on how the dynamic between the three of them changed, a sort of code speak. And the more I'm typing this— y'know what? I just may do a one shot for each of these moments.

Your ability to capture and evoke so much context within your art, truly is impeccable.

The Underland Chronicles is the only series I know where I can thirst after two guys and a rat and it not be weird to my husband because we thirst after the same guys.

LOOK AT THOSE BICEPS, AND THE MUSTACHE? COME AHHHHHHHN.

I'm so fucking gay its not even funny.

Fantastic work

some romantic Hamareth for your troubles. I’m really enjoying designing some clothing options for Regalians. I’m thinking they’re in their mid to late 20’s here. (Before Luxa is born) 1. Dancing at the royal wedding. 2. Post workout makeout sesh.

3. Hamnet is very protective, especially after a close call. Mareth is still loopy from the meds and is happy to be pampered.

4. All that hair has a cost. I headcanon that Hamnet has crazy bedhead. He also doesn’t appreciate when Mareth has to get up earlier than him.

+swords! I headcanon Hamnet to be more lithe and quick, so he’s probably good at the same kind of acrobatic fighting that Luxa is, so I gave him the same type of sword that she uses. Mareth is a freaking tank and has a longsword.

[returntoregalia]