#all this fancy editing for the smallest bottle ever

[kezcore]

omr beauty would be so cool if i actually cared/knew about beauty products and fragrances

[robbie-lee-zombie]

Random thing, will be edited and added on when Robbie finds more of the random stuff Robbie has sent to @thetickleeraven

Adding a ‘Keep Reading’ because this will get VERY Long. Might copy/edit/paste this post with every add on so it won’t glitch out too much, and if you’d already seen the first few paragraphs of an idea, just scroll until you see one of the numbers (like #2) that you haven’t seen before! 

Hope that helps, anyways enjoy the rambling of HCs and Ideas

Edit/Add-On #1 

Taking place in Raven’s recent couple of fics with Prince Roman and the magical Logan (since we can’t spell mid-evil) that AU. HC: Pat is either 1. The king of the place, and Roman’s dad figure still. OR 2. (HC I use more) Patton is the news-reporter-writer-helper-etc guy. He orders the seeds for farms, sets up meetings for Roman and other lands, making sure things work and stay kinda organized. You’d never think of someone so dad-like to have that kind of job, you know? Good HC tbh-

Imagine Patton’s first couple of lessons were a tour and knowing the potions and ingredients around the place. He writes everything down, admitting to Logan that he’d have a bad memory if he didn’t write it down. He was trying, though, and Logan respects that to the fullest. When Logan flips through the beginners spells, the one Roman had used caught Patton, of all people’s, eye. He smiles. “Mirth brought to light? Aw, that sounds adorable! Making people happy is the best spell I’d say! But you don’t need magic for that!” He glances up at Logan. “What do you mean, Pat?” “I have you to make me happy, you dork!” Commence Logan to be slightly flustered as he continues to flip through and explain the spells. Including the Mirth of Light one. “So it just makes people more aware of how ticklish they are? Gosh, that sounds amazing!” “How so?” “Well, it doesn’t hurt anybody, and it could probably be used on thieves or villains instead of slaughtering them, you know? Have them cough up where the money is!” “That’s… rather childish, but pacifistic, I must say.” “Good thing I’m no criminal! I’m insanely ticklish.” Okay, wow, no one probably met someone so blunt and honest with statements like those. “Really? You say that to everyone you meet?” “Hush! It’s not that bad!” “Not that bad? You mean you enjoy the sensation?” “You mean tickling??” “Yes. That.” “Of course!” Logan paused, giving him a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t I? What’s not to like?” Patton’s eyes lit up. Not like the time he first saw the room of potions, or when Logan drones on, but still lit up with joy. Huh. Never thought this would happen, Logan thought.

~Continuation type deal of the first paragraph of ideas~

Patton is the town/castle news/reporter type deal at first, running around making sure everyone has everything they need (surprising Virge didn’t have that job-) and that’s when Logan saw that sparkle of look in Patton’s eyes when things got done. Patton never showed his whole adoration and appreciation of work and order much, since he felt geeky. Logan took a step up to Pat as the dad took the pencil out from behind his ear to write a few things down in his note-pad, scribbling random messy ideas. “You. Come with me.” Logan orders him to follow. Once they make it to Logan’s specific tower, You can just… tell. Patton looked at every potion with detail, even drawing a few mini sketches of each one to take notes like ‘purple round potion bottle:’ and 'blue triangle bottle’ and etc. Patton’s eyes just… light up! You’d never expect someone so loving and innocent outside the castle to be into such geeky and dorky stuuuuff, clearly Logan thought it wasn’t geeky… much. “You. You’re going to be my assistant from here on out. I will teach you everything I know, and even after that we will continue to work together. What’s your name, sir?” “Sir?? I’m not that old, not even much older than you, but a lot of people think I’m Roman’s father, how funny is that??” Patton giggles, holding out his hand. “I’m Patton, the castle reporter and document-er!” “Big job, huh?” “Eh, I mostly just take care of the village complaints and problems, order stuff like seeds for the farms, plan the meetings, boring stuff-” “It’s not boring, it’s very intriguing. Tell me more.” Patton’s eyes lit up again. No one’s ever wanted to hear him talk this much before.

Edit/Add-On #2

“It Came From The Trees” Gives me so many little t-fic ideas like, Virgil would hang upside down from a branch right when Princey is heading back to the treehouse since “I caught a fish by myself omg Virgil will be so happy-” Virgil’s face is right in front of him popping down. “SUPER-CALA-FRAGI-FUCKER–” And Virgil’s just laughing.

Imagine the life style of him and Roman over the time in the woods!!!!!

“I found these little red berries they look like cherries they can’t be that bad-” ate two Virge is carving a stick with his blade he’s had for years, not looking up. “They’re poisonous, Ro” Roman freaks out and almost faints, tossing them all away and sitting on the ground like “that’s a relief-” “…Dude I was kidding they’re just little red berries, I’ve ate them for years-” “I will destroy you-”

Raven’s fics of Roman being that one Prince and Virgil being his guard, what if WHAT IF HOLY CRAP- What if It Came From The Trees is set like, waaay before Virgil was his guard??? And when Roman came back to the Palace, maybe even 2 years later (He’s wearing whole other clothes Virgil’s taught him how to sew) and Pat (king or intern or whatever he wants to be) Is just like “HOLY CRAP MAN WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN WE THOUGHT YOU DIED-” Logan, ironically, is also freaking out. He’s doing that classic thing in cartoons where they’re at his arms, legs, checking him for bites or scratches and etc, like a mother (ha-) and he’s like “Guys, really- it’s cool-” But Virgil’s still at the Tree House, since Virge thought they’d think 'hOLY CRAP ROMAN WHO’S THAT WE GOTTA KILL HIM-’ so Roman said “I’m just going to go tell them I’m alive, K? I’ll be back. Promise.” A day-ish later, he comes back to Virgil who got jump-scared when he did, not expecting the PRINCE to be so good at sneaking around in the dark, so it was startling. He’s rambling about how he’s told his closest friends about Virgil and that he’s allowed to apply for a position in the village, whichever position he wants! Virge thinks about it for maybe a week and is like 'dude, what if you were my guard? You kind of saved my ass seven times when we first met!’ “It’s not my fault you’re so fancy-” “Excuse me-” “You had NO IDEA what you were doing-” “I’ll have you know–” “You thought the leaves growled in the wind~” “…Okay, yeah, whatever-” Anyways, Virgil works up the courage to jump through the trees, Roman still not the best at it, but able to keep up with Virgil to do so, and they jump to the walls of Roman’s land. “You sure I’m… allowed in? They won’t attack me?” “Of course!” Getting through the gate, of course, Logan and Pat are both there waiting for Roman, and Logan (like with Roman) examines and pokes and prods at Virgil with questions and his eraser/pencil, Virgil’s slightly pink like “YOU SAID THEY WOULDN’T ATTACK ME!” “He’s not! ..Specs, please get out of his mouth, he has one row of teeth-” Since that nickname, before Virge knew their real names, he called them nicknames for months never asking them 'what’s your name?’ since Roman told them to go with it and it was hilariously cute. When Virge first found out Logan’s name he glared at Roman like “Wait so his name isn’t Specs?” “Nope.” “It’s not Nerd either? Not Four-Eyes, Harry Potter, Geek-a-zoid, none of those??” “Nope.” “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME-” “Because it was cute watching you get used to it~” “…Is it too late to be an outcast again-”

~Continued of the last mess of a paragraph thingy, yes, very aware of some grammar mistakes and mess ups. If it says ‘you/your’ when it shouldn’t, it’s probably because these were just copy pasted when I rambled to @thetickleeraven and said ‘you/your’ to them so don’t freak out about that~

Pass a week or two, put Virgil in that one dorm area you talked about where he almost died in that fic I can’t remember the name of- maybe it wasn’t your fic I don’t remember– Anyways- Put him in the dorms area, he got used to it, even let Roman help him decorate with so so so many things he’s like “Dude I don’t need posters they’re just paper, you could’ve used that for something else-” “It’s not a crime to treat yourself, Virge. Plus you love the Nightmare Before Christmas!” “..True-” And even when he first signed up to be a guardsman he had to go through the training. Since he lived in the woods for so long, he passed the agility and strength tests no problem. The hardest part was the test that most guards are good at. This was the hard test Virgil knew he’d fail at as soon as he heard it. Endurance Test. Not only did they have to stand in a line, A-Z, standing up straight and all (ouch for his back-) but Roman was the judge of the test. He walked to people randomly, doing anything he saw fit to make the others 'snap out of character’ like laugh, smile, the smallest thing would make Roman grin with victory. It’s not that it was a bad thing, of course, but first hearing the TEST part, Virgil did EVERYTHING HE COULD not to fricken mess this up. So as SOON AS ROMAN GOT TO VIRGIL, he just gave him that snarky little face of a grin and raised eyebrows. They had… so many inside jokes, it was easy for him. “Remember that time I tried to eat your shirt in my sleep because I hadn’t learned how to catch a fish yet?” Okay, Virgil snickered. Quietly though. Roman noticed, however, and he was going to focus on Virgil now. Once someone broke completely, they stepped off to the benches or bathrooms for a break, but Virgil, with Joan and Talyn, were the last three still 'Mature’ or in this case in the Test. Virgil was in the middle of the other two, and you can sense the other two thinking “Wow, what’s their story?” Roman continued. “Remember I tried to eat a worm? You told me if I couldn’t climb that tree in 30 seconds that would be my dinner. I had it in my mouth, you pleb!” He put a hand on his chest, dramatically, going on and on about how Virgil almost 'made him’ do these things. Luckily, Roman didn’t eat the worm, he got real dinner, but Virgil got a kick out of watching him try and almost release it into the wild with a “Virge, this thing has a family, come on-”. Virgil let out a snort, okay, it was super hard. ROMAN STOP BEING FUNNY! WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE! Since Roman didn’t know Virgil was ticklish (until the potions fics) he relied on his cunning charm and humor to spite Virgil, which of course was the same Virgil did to Roman. It was so close, he could pass the test! He’d make the guard if only- “Remember the porcupine incident?” Virgil fell to his knees laughing, it was so stupid and unfair! The others had no idea what Roman said, since they couldn’t hear, but Talyn and Joan shared a look like “?????” along with a look of “..awww they’re friends-” Virgil, the next day, thought he failed. Roman came back with the results. “Virgil, Talyn, and Joan. You three are the head of squads A, B, and C.” Virgil was shocked. After Roman finished, everyone but them two left, and Virgil was like “But- But I thought if we weren’t serious enough we’d fail-” “Oh please! You think I’d fail you just because you laughed at something I said?? Virgil, I don’t want my guards to be losers! I don’t want them so stuck up about the rules and court, the way we do things, that stuff is so boring! I want guards who are more than just that, they can /have a sense of humor!/” Virgil was about to tear up before he turned bright red and glared at him. “YOU LITTLE SHI- YOU MADE ME LAUGH IN FRONT OF EVERYONE WHY–” “It was adorable, stormcloud!” “Storm..cloud?” “..Do you not-” “Nah, it’s actually cool. I’ll keep that nickname over pleb, thanks.”

Edit/Add-On #3 Not Yet Here

~This little area will change when edited, so refresh if you need to to check if it’s newer~

[bifacialler]

Butterfly Bog - Forsythia (Anticipation)

[Edit: you might be very confused by this. So am I. I don’t remembered when this prompt appeared in my mail box, and I don’t remember when I started writing this. Supposed to be this big thing, but I couldn’t. sorry ((( ]

Dear Tangy, I think I just wrote a Royal Night Out AU for your It Takes Two. Hope you forgive me for the name-pasting and things.

The war ends at midnight.

Officially.

The war officially ends at midnight, followed by her father tenuous speech on the radio, an address to the nation that can’t wait, because for their people, the war is already over, drowned in the sparks of champaign poured into tall glasses, drowned in a victorious song pouring from every open mouth on every street corner, drowned in color and light a cheer that will be their capital, because today, at midnight, no one will sleep.

Today, at midnight, the war ends.

For Dawn, the true daughter of her nation, the war already ended. It was blown away by the flip of the fancy lifestyle magazine their handmaidens smuggled into the castle and hid under the white sheets thrown over everything - sofas, chairs, bookcases, her old piano that will require dusting and tuning when the morning will come and they will unravel it and try to put everything in order: chairs, sofas, bookcases. A kingdom. Their lives. Dawn already dug hers out though (Dawn has no patience and it is un-princess-like, unlike Marianne, look at Marianne, Marianne takes the future queen business seriously) and the colored pages glide through her excited lively fingers as they both lean over it, barely breathing (because Marianne’s life in under white sheets and Dawn’s is full of fancy ladies in all the dresses Dawn will ask for the moment the war ends), as Dawn reads about the upcoming celebration like it’s not going to happen right here, behind the very gates of their home, but some where far off, like Birog, for example.

What Marianne knows, though, is that the pleading look in her sister’s eye is not going to bring them any good.

«Dawn, you know what they’ll say,» she shakes in return, as if there is even a smallest chance of them being anywhere but here this evening. «Father will never let us go.»

«At least try!» Dawn sighs, as if the weight of their whole royal bloodline descends on her shoulders, falling back on the covers, and the magazine flies over her head in an arch of exasperation, landing over the other side of the bed. It’s immediately picked up, though, carefully dusted, fingertips barely brushing the cover, and Marianne can’t help but smile: each finds the treasures of their own, even if they might be someone else’s nothing. «Please?»

Marianne can imagine it already: her mother’s perm, in hard defined waves of deep chocolate, roofing over her eyes and sharply arched eyebrows, her father’s tired moustache, so fashionably out of style but there is nothing three of them could do about it, and the glaring joy of the crowd behind the window, careless, buzzing in anticipation of the life to come, of the new world about to be build right there, right before their eyes, with their own hands.

«Please? If we don’t try now, we’ll never get another chance.»

Dawn’s eyes bore into her, light, crystal clear and Polyanthus blue, full of something Marianne felt she is born without - youthful lighthearted enchantment, so fragile and beautiful and rare in their state of life that in a moment of weakness, Marianne looks back, clenches her teeth with a softest of painful cringes, and gives up.

«Alright, I’ll try,» she winces. «Can’t promise more.»

And it’s good enough, as she is swiped into an embrace that is surprisingly stopping for a tender little thing. «Thank you, thank you! Oh, I swear, I’ll get you anything you want, I’ll-«

Her sister pauses and briskly looks up and down.

«I’ll pick out your dress.»

«Dawn, just because I’ll ask, it doesn’t mean they’ll let us go.»

And the mischievous glint comes back.

«I have faith.»

——

Dawn has faith, and it seems like somehow that becomes a defining factor, as they stand before their parents, her father’s speech dying a tangled death in his salt’n’pepper beard.

«Marianne-« he starts, as mother cuts through with her lips perfectly rose and her blouse perfectly in order. «Out of question.»

«Mother, it’s as much of our celebration what everybody else’s,» she wrings her hands before she can stop herself, before she remembers to tuck them behind her back, straightening the uniform that fits her like a glove - unlike all the other uniforms, no one is as good as royal seamstresses when it come to fitting you into things, be it an officer’s camisole or Dawn’s fashionable dress-suits - as she folds her hands behind her back.

«Yes,» her mother nods, and seated in the chair, elegantly crossed legs tucked under the chair but not quite, and speaks in a melodic semi-whisper that is a habit one gets from leaving in a place too big and too empty and full of ringing echoes. «And that is why the two on your will spend it here, with your family and friends.»

«If by «friends» you mean the duke’s son-"

«As well as the duke himself, and the duchess, and your cousins, our dear Prime Minister and his wife- Did you prepare your remarks, Mari?»

Mari. Oh how she hates it. «Yes, Mother.»

Dawn nudges her with her elbow and shoots her a pleading jittery look.

«Good,» for a moment her mother’s mouth twists into something akin to a smirk. «And George,» she points her hand to their father in a gesture that is the closest to familiarity that she ever had. «The people from National Television will be here at eight. Do you think you speech will be ready by then?»

«Under your rigorous control - how can it not be?» he smiles in return, something softer and kinder, something intimate even if concealed under a think layer of facial hair that no one asked for. «I just hope that the people feel it too."

Marianne can understand them - it was a difficult time for them, both as rulers and spouses, and despite what the masses though, it never got easier, no matter the level of self-discipline and awareness, no matter, peace or war, and it will only get harder when the morning comes.

It will only get harder, and lives will change, and in this moment, in these fifteen hours until next morning, Marianne finally gets it, that this is really the only chance she’ll ever get.

«Yes, but how would you know?» she says, and her arms find their way around her to settle on her hips. «How would you know if the people will feel it? Love it? Hate it? You can’t trust the newspapers with that, you know how high on literary criticism they would get.»

«Mari, what are you trying to-« he mother starts, a cautious glint in her eye, but something in the way father raises his hand makes her pause.

«Go on, dear,» he bows his head in encouragement.

In that moment, Marianne knows she got him, and if she pushes just a tiny bit more, she wouldn’t even need to get mother - he will do it for her. By her side, Dawn fumbles with a brooch on her jacket, trying with all her might not to snigger with glee, but it comes through in tiniest huffs and giggles.

Dawn has faith, not just Marianne and her abilities, but in the whole wide world, and it pays her back, with lucky chances that she never misses. And if this lucky chance is all Dawn’s doing, than who is Marianne to let it go to waste. So she makes one last push.

«What I’m saying is this: father, do you trust me?»

«Of course, darling!»

«Then you would know that won’t lie to you.»

«This is a historical day, a first of a new world,» her hands travel before her, like wings of a swan. «The world that I will one day rule. So let me hear what people say. So that we could build this world with them.»

Looking to her father’s face, Marianne can only guess what a tenuous battle unfolds in his mind, fuelled by her mother’s disbelieving glare and Dawn’s pleadingly chewed lip.

«Yes, alright,» he says at the end of it, and her sister explodes in a giggling fit. «But on one condition.»

----

«This is so… unfair.»

They are stuffed in a car, a large black number send directly from London, tis the fashion, and her sister keeps huffing non stop for the past two hours - which didn’t stop her from raiding the lock-up of their closet and dragging Marianne in, with all the babbling excitement that surfaces when she comes close to anything with sparkles to it.

Marianne thinks she should be grateful, really, because she ends up in a rather tame number (by her sister’s standards): knee length skirt, off the shoulder straps, sensible fashionable heels. All in sophisticated burgundy. Not a young girl’s colour, but she is not really a young girl. Not in her head.

Two of he father’s personal guard - Russell and... Grand, if she is correct - are seated begrudgingly before them, and Dawn flirts with them off-handedly, as a habit, because even if there are things that dissatisfy her, she would never show. It is safe, her half-open eyes holding all the secrets of their family behind the walls of perfect shining smiles and ringing laughs. Unlike Marianne, she makes it look easy to be a public figure. 

Dawn is charismatic and people love her.

The dark tint of the car’s glass throws a sombre veil over the crowd behind. The cover of the night, with light bugs of candles and lighters, their sparks reflecting of wine bottles and champagne glasses, turns the ride into a kind of a pilgrimage, a trip into the underworld, a journey through a sacred mysterium of men that exists with her, and yet so far away. It’s strange to think of them this way, especially for a future Queen, strange and wrong, but she can’t help it. 

Because Marianne knows that this might be one time in her life she might witness the birth of a New World, and she ain’t gonna miss it for any deep philosophical debates with herself.