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sweetshelluvaau · 7 months ago

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World/Lore Building - Redoing the Rings of Hell [Pt 1 - The Basics]

this is the best picture I could fine for the ring colors lol

Today in 'Sweets Attempt to Overhauling the Messy Worldbuilding in Hellaverse Because She's Bored', we gonna revamp, rework and add to how the Rings of Hell work because why the fuck not. This post will covering color changes, travel between them and other fun stuff. I will briefly go over ring aesthetics but I'm gonna be saving a post on each ring for another time Anyways putting this under Read More because it's gonna get looooooong...

Okay to reblog, feedback and criticism is welcomed.

Part One: Colors of each Ring.

More of a nitpick than anything else but I don't like some of the color choices for each ring because some just don't really make sense. Why is Envy purple when it should be green? Ya know: 'green with envy'? That and Purple is Pride's color normally. I think the color red itself is fine in itself but I feel as if you're gonna give purple to another ring at the very least it shouldn't be Envy!

Again these are kinda nitpicks but they bother me nether the less. Here's how Hellaverse's rings work right now color wise.

Pride: Red

Wrath: Orange

Gluttony: Yellow

Greed: Green

Lust: Blue

Envy: Purple (why tho?)

Sloth: Pink

Here is how I plan on changing the colors a bit:

Pride: Purple

Wrath: Red

Gluttony: Orange

Greed: Yellow

Lust: Blue

Envy: Green (as it should have been!)

Sloth: Teal

Yes, all the colors are of biblical context (minus Sloth which is a light blue but didn't want two blues). I was ordinally thinking about switching the canon colors of Lust and Sloth around but decided agasist it. The Lust Ring's color is the only one to remains the same from canon and I changed Sloth from pink to a lighter shade of teal but that may change if I can think of a more 'dreamy' like color.

Decided to keep the canon order the same for now but that could change later on. I think it's fine the way it is.

Part Two: Ring Aesthetics

One of the major complaints I see people bring up about Pride, let alone Hell in general is that it's too Earth like which in some sense, I agree but also don't really mind it at the same time. I'd be more forgiving however if the world around the aesthetic of Hell was interesting and we understood how the worldbuilding worked I honestly feel like I'm repeating myself at this point but it's true wtf is the worldbuilding in these shows.

Some rings won't change too much aesthetically but will be added on to, while some will get a complete overhaul.

-Pride-

So this is the Pride Ring we have in canon. To be honest, outside of all the red I don't think a city HELLscape (lol get it) is necessarily bad. Maybe not the most creative, but I don't have a problem with it. If anything I'd expand on the architecture where there's a mixture of old otherworldly and fantasy like structures but as time went by parts of Hell became more modern and there are parts that do represent different era's in time as well as Sinners start taking over areas of the Pride Ring.

This is more of a question for myself but how does the Pride Ring work in regard to cities and such: We have two shows, in Hazbin we have Pentagram City, In HB we have Imp City? So my question is are Sinners stuck in the first city or is Imp City a section of Pentagram City? Where is Stolas' palace in Pride? Is it even in Pride? Honestly this kinda confuses me more. Not that this persay matters on the grand scale of things being Sinners are in all rings in my AU but um does anyone think about this? Why are their different cities in rings anyways. Should it just be one huge thing in each ring? Am I thinking too hard about this?

Anyways if you read the above part, I'm also gonna just have Pentagram City being the center of Pride while the outskirts of the city being more like 'suburbs' where you'll have some royal and higher ranking demons as well as hellborn in general while the edges of the ring is more rural/undeveloped land which is mostly owned by nobles or sold off and made into makeshift little communities by others, often imps and hellhounds due to high prices within the Pentagram itself.

A lot of hellborn ordinally from Pride moved to other Rings or choose to live in the outskirts being how Sinners started taking over Pride, both of those who landed there and those who 'smuggled' themselves in and considering leadership does not care enough to do anything about it, well...

Also: NOT SO MUCH RED WHAT'S WITH YOUR OBESSION WITH RED VIV! Definitely will add some purple because um...pride?

-Wrath-

Honestly: No complaints about Wrath. I think it's mostly prefect the way it is. Again, maybe not have it so bright with the red and add some other colors along with maybe some wild west style towns but over all I like how it is in the show.

All imps originated from Satan with the original purpose of them being troops and labors during a war between Heaven and Hell (I'll talk about that along with my timeline lore for this AU at another time), though after the war and as time went by, imps ended up across all of Hell and gainned freedoms, even though they're still second class citizens.

A lot of Wrath's culture is very violent and hostile and outside of The Pain Games, sports that then towards violence and destruction like wrestling, mix martial arts, boxing and monster truck derbies are also really big. I will expand on talking more about the ring itself when it gets it's own post.

-Gluttony-

Again: No complaints about the aesthetic here. I love the lush, tropical vibe it has going along the beehive/70's architecture. I plan on even having my Beelzebub having a bit of 70's disco queen/Donna Summer's vibe for her. And ya know, NO RED IN SIGHT!

Gluttony is seen as a vacation destination for foodies and for it's beaches and party culture. It's also where most of Hell's agriculture is grown when it doesn't come from Wrath.

Hellhounds also originated from Gluttony but not from Bee herself but from Cerberus and were part of Hell before it was known as Hell. Again, something I will talk about at a later date.

-Greed-

Okay, you guys are bored seeing me praise shit now we're gonna get critical. To say I'm not a fan is putting it lightly. Honestly the idea of there being suburbs like we see here in the picture above looks boring and well...what's with the greenery (not a pun this time)? Isn't Greed suppose to be a toxic wasteland and a crime filled HELLhole (lol I did it again hahahaha I think I'm funny). Why is there organized crime in Hell? Let alone law enforcement? Who the fuck knows the worldbuilding in this show makes as much sense as Viv wanting to make Stolitz end game despite there being no chemistry between them.

I'm gonna take some ideas and headcanons from my friend Nihlis while also do my own twist on things:

Greed is made up of different sections: In the very middle we got the city part of Greed along with an entertainment district. Like, Gluttony, Greed or at least that part of Greed is basically a vacation destination not too similar to Las Vegas. Gambling, nightlife, lives ruined in more ways than one. Basically an overly exaggerated hellish version of that where the house more than never always wins. It's also where Loo Loo Land is which is definitely not a rip off of LuLu Land nope no legal issues to be seen here.

The surrounding area, often concealed by magic to those who visit and live in central Greed so no one can view the more nastier parts is basically a concrete jungle filled with industry and mining facilities. Most sinners and hellborn who can't afford living in the center are in these parts.

Greed is basically Hell's manufacturing center due to lax rules and cheap labor cost. About all industries in the ring are owned by Mammon himself (the final CEO) but he has others making sure these facilities are running smoothly considering he has a lot of business going on throughout Hell.

There may be tiny little edges which aren't anything but rock and mines and a few nice establishment depending on who claims the land but other than that the whole Ring is an over the top capitalistic shit hole.

Also, more yellow and other colors outside of green because damn that is a lot of green. At least it's not red but c'mon you can mix colors together Viv. I may still do something with the whole demon mafia/crime syndicate thing in the show but they're treated more like legitimate but still under the table 'business' while also funneling money in other rings as well. About all of these are Hellborn ran which are made up of mostly Imps, Lone Sharks and depending on who leads them, allow sinners in their ranks. There are at least two or three successful Sinner Overlords who do also run these 'business' but they're no where as powerful they would be if they were in Pride...

There's also no REAL law enforcement in hell neither so of course these go uncheck.

-Lust-

Not gonna lie: I kinda dig the red light district vibe. I think it makes sense and overall works but I'd likely play around with it a bit and flesh it out more.

As for my version of it for the notes I got down so far: Humorlessly enough though The Lust Ring is pretty tame during the day, where the skies are more pink and bright but nothing really risqué is going on. Yeah you'll likely stumble across a few sex shops that are open and general shops/restaurants that have double entendre names because c'mon but at night is when it's alive and well...Lustful XD Not sure if I'm gonna keep the 'always rains in Lust due to Greed's water leaking down' thing but heh. Honestly I may scrap that and move that idea for Sloth being Envy is above it but more of that below...

-Envy-

Considering we have yet to see what Hellaverse's Envy Ring will be like, well...

Will go more into it in it's own post but definitely like the idea of an glamorous underwater city that only those with Souls (my Hellaverse's currency) can afford. Leviathan also makes sure that the more 'ugly' parts of Envy are hidden away from the general public and those visiting the ring and is completely not ashamed to throw out those that don't fit her ideal utopia.

Loan Sharks are originally from Envy but because they didn't fit the 'aesthetic' they're either down in the slums of Envy (which unless you live in the ring, you're completely unaware it exist) or tell them to take a hike and throw them into Greed or Pride if they refuse to stay down there.

Envy is also where Hell's fashion and beauty industry thrives and Leviathan also hires social media influencers to hype up and sell the Ring and their own ventures being the sin of Envy is about having something the other has but you don't and will tear them down just to get it, after all...

The sin of Envy is pretty fucked thinking about it...

-Sloth-

I'm completely overhauling Sloth for two reasons: 1) There's no REAL health care system in Hell in my AU (still doesn't really make sense to me) and 2) Honestly I prefer the idea of Sloth being a weird hybrid of a Cyberpunk dystopia and Silicon Valley. Very high tech, most things are automated and unless you happen to be an Imp or Sinner: Life is easy and relaxed being even as an inventor, you don't need to do the hard part of creating and building it. Once you have your ideas down just throw it at the Imps and Sinners and they'll build your invention for you while you claim all the work.

There's always a new start up each day where investors are throwing whatever Souls they have at pretty much every thing they see all at once knowing only one or two of those start ups are going to be profitable and successful while the rest crash a burn. You know: Like the real Silicon Valley.

Will talk about my version of sloth in more details soon...

Part Three: Traversal Between Rings.

I really do love the elevator concept and think it's something that could be explored more so I'm keeping that but what other modes of transportation could there be?

First I'll talk about the elevator system: I like to view it working similar to a rail system. Ya know: buy a ticket, hop aboard, get to your destination within an hour depending where in Hell you are. It may be longer if you're going to Sloth from Pride. These modes of transportation are open to all excluding sinners unless they have clearance to travel outside their ring which is a luxury rarely ever given out.

However, due to the elevator system being over 100,000 years old and possibility even older when ever Hell was fully established, this lead to the crust of each ring to tear and change form which lead to cracks that unless you know where to look, are untraceable. This lead to another form of transportation open to sinners that wish to escape the ring that they're in hoping for a better opportunity or escape there enteral punishment: Travel between the cracks.

Unusually the safest route to traverses these 'tunnels' is sinners going though 'smuggling operations' often ran by hellborn (part of those gang ran 'business' I talked about in the Greed section) who happen to have mapped their own path, either playing as their guide or selling these maps for a price. However these are often extremely expensive as those running these operations often take advantage of desperate sinners and scam them out of their money.

Most Sinners however go at it alone or in small groups but this could be a dangerous endeavor due to the fact these tunnels are unmapped and easy to get lost in. Eventually you will make it out but it may not be the destination you originally intended. You may even end up back where you started from.

But what about those who don't have time to take long haul travel? A Sin who need to get somewhere ASAP or perhaps a royal who doesn't want be sitting next to those filthy presents?

Easy: Portals. I mean we see Stolas using them all the time and Ozzie even was playing around with them in the Mammon episode but for my AU they work a little differently.

For one, they can only be used to traverse though Hell and only Hell! Unless you have Stolas or Loona having that actual spellbook on hand or one of those crystal things that makes the whole point of the grimoire in the show pointless, travel to Earth (or the mortal realm by Hellborn, sometimes referred to 'topside' by sinners and hellborn alike even though Hell/Heaven is more a different plane/dimension and not under/above the earth itself but we're getting off topic) is impossible. You need strong magic and/or spells that work in order to travel topside (ex the Grimoire) but unless you work for a Sin to spread...well, sin on Earth or some noble; you don't have clearance to do so. (At least legality...)

It's possible a few of these things can change in the future but this what I got as of right now. I'll have the other seven parts written out I get the chance and feel I have enough to share.

#Sweets Attempt to Overhauling the Messy Worldbuilding in Hellaverse Because She's Bored #yes I'm making this a tag but mostly as a joke #helluva boss rewrite #hazbin hotel rewrite #sweets helluva rewrite #finally i got this done ;A;

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tamaruaart · 5 months ago

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The Vengeance AU

Hi y'all- okay so damn, I have been holding this one off for QUITE a while- I've had this idea in my head for a bit but I never made full AU out of it, but before that I guess I should give a "heads up" of sorts?

I already have a post about Zhao's family tree. And there you can see she had two siblings, Mao-Yin and Syaoran (who were actually twins)

Something I try to make clear is that Zhao (As well as Quanshuǐ and Yue) is not only an OC for Lego Monkie Kid, but also for the original Journey to the West book. Though her role is fairly minor. And in her JTTW book version a lot, and I mean a lot of things are different than in LMK.

Like for example in JTTW her orange hair was actually a punishment, while in LMK it's her natural hair color. Or how in JTTW Quanshuǐ was one of Zhao's temple maidens while she was still living with her family. And also in JTTW Mao-Yin and Pangfua (Zhao, Mao-Yin and Syaoran's mother) committed a suicide in a river while in LMK they just kinda disappeared.

(However all of the JTTW lore about Zhao and her family is canon in LMK in this AU)

I'm trying to write LMK!Zhao as if she was an actual LMK character. I'm changing things I think the actual writers would have changed to fit the tone of the show.

One thing to mention in the JTTW version is that Zhao's brother Syaoran was actually killed via homicide by a few soldiers, and there's a lot to say about that but I'm not going to get into it (this is changed in LMK where he's still alive). Anyways, in JTTW he had a child with one of Zhao's late flower maidens who's name was Měi Lán.

The child's name was Yuǎn'ān (far & safe/far from danger). Basically at the end of jttw yadayadayada zhao wukong argue wukong kill zhao yadayadayada yuǎn sad and angy. And that's basically his JTTW lore /j

He's honestly such a minor character I don't think he would appear in LMK at all. He probably wouldn't even be a canon LMK character at that-

But then I was having a brain rot and thought "What if I made an AU where Yuǎn'ān is a canon LMK character and he was a villain trying to kill MK as revenge so that Wukong can feel the pain of having to lose someone so close to him. Because he knows he can't harm Wukong as Wukong is immortal... but MK isn't" ?

And now we're here! So, enough chitter chatter time for Yuǎn'ān!

(He takes after his father. A LOT. Also if you point out how wonky the feet look I'm throwing you into the dumpster)

General Premise:

In the vengeance AU Yuǎn'ān is one of the main villains. In short, word got around about a certain "Monkie Kid" and a certain "White Tiger" heard about it. He could never forgive Sun Wukong for what he did, but even then he can't do anything to Wukong because he's immortal. Unfortunately, or well, fortunately in Yuǎn's case... The Monkie Kid isn't immortal. Forever grieving the petty loss of his aunt, he sets out to "get rid" of MK, and maybe then Wukong will finally know what it feels like to lose someone oh so dear... Or maybe, just maybe.. he already knows?

Personally:

Yuǎn'ān is... Not exactly an optimist to say the least. He's extremely devoted, salty (this whole ass AU is just him holding a grudge) and a biiiittttttttt passive aggressive. You could say he's a sort of He-Wolf. Also he's a literal copy and paste of his father smh (ironic 'cause he never even met him-).

Not to mention stubborn, oh my god this man listens to no one-

However, deep down he doesn't have the guts to kill someone, like he could definitely injure you (he's got the hunting spirit after all) but not... To exactly murder a person.

Yet, only destiny will determine if he'll end up listening to his gut, or to his head...

Anyways, this is cringe but idc TRIVIA TIME MOTHERFUCKER >:D

Q&As:

How old is he?

Ageless. But mentally I'd say around his early twenties (Maybe 23-24)

Are Quan and Yue also going to be in the AU?

Quanshuǐ doesn't appear in the AU. Yue exists but we don't really see him.

Does Yuǎn have orbs for hands?

No I was just being lazy when I drew him :(

Did his earrings belong to Zhao?

Yeah :)

What are his pronouns and sexuality?

He's demisexual and pan, pronouns are he/him

Any funfacts about his appearance?

He gets his eyes and freckles from Zhao. And his hair is from his father

I don't see his freckl-

LOOK CLOSELY AT HIS FACE AND SHOULDERS.

Are any canon key events and characters changed/removed in the AU? And when does Yuǎn'ān appear?

No. No events nor canon characters are removed. Yuǎn gets foreshadowed sometime during the end of season 2. Then he gets fully revealed in season mid-season 3 and starts his whole "IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL Y-" thing.

Will he be redeemed?

We'll see. (probably-)

Does he have any OC x Canon parings?

For now, no. And honestly I'm not planning on any because I don't exactly see him as the romantic type. I'm open if any of my tumblr friends/moots would be interested in Oc x Oc crackships with him tho, heheh! 👀

Can he also heal like Zhao can?

Eh, I'm still debating but probably not

Will you be posting a lot about this AU?

Probably not a lot. But I'm sure you'll get some content of it from time to time.

Why is he so salty??

That's just the way he was born man 😔

Anyways, yeah! That's basically it, thank you for reading! If you have any questions about this mf feel free to ask :D

Ba-byeeeeeee

#lmk oc; zhao #lmk oc #lego monkie kid #tam rambles #lego monkie kid oc #lmk oc; Yuǎn'ān #Lmk Vengeance AU #Aghh that's such a cringy name #I couldn't care less though #monkie kid oc #lmk #My art

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celestialaviva · 9 months ago

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I'm curious, what relationships headcanons do you have for the Alan Becker characters?

For example, what is the relationship between the Hollow Heads/Color Gang? Or do you have any ships?

Sorry if I'm annoying, I'm just really curious!

You're alright!

To be honest with you, I mostly consume AvA/M content than create my own headcanons ^^;;;

That is to say, I don't think too hard about mine? They just. Float around, and come up whenever I draw something and I just go, "Ah yes. That is them."

I don't ship anyone and mostly see the CG as best friends who live together like a family. Not totally siblings but just. Just found family? It's very hard to describe but here's some duos:

Orange and Green - I see them as creative rivals. Also kinda see them as the responsible ones of the group- even though I actually headcanon Orange to be younger than the four, he just has responsible one vibes lmao. They're said to be close since they're the first to make contact with each other, and I imagine Green was at first responsible (sort of) for Orange for a little while in the beginning until Orange became confident and comfortable enough around the group. I feel Orange interacts with Green the most in the group because of this.

Green and Blue - They hang around each other a lot, and that kinda makes me think that they always did even before meeting Orange. Minus Orange, they seem to be the ones with eyes for detail in the group, so they likely bond over that too sometimes. They look after each other often, checking in on each other. Green's impatience and Blue's pacifism clash sometimes, but they almost always seem to be on board with each other's ideas.

Green and Yellow - They like to one up each other especially in competitions. I feel they annoy each other the most and are spiteful of each other. But, I can see them just having each other's backs anyhow. Chill when chill, unless either one of them disturbs the peace, yknow for fun. They are both mischievous for sure.

Yellow and Blue - I love this duo in canon! Even in the very early episodes, I've always loved that they seem close. Blue often being the emotional one and Yellow often being the one trying to comfort them. I don't know man, I see them as soft towards each other? But not afraid to mess with each other either.

Red and Yellow - Prankster duo. They enable each other's curiosity and terrible ideas. Though, I do think Yellow wouldn't always be on board. It's funny to me Yellow is more cautious while Red just goes straight into situations so Yellow unfortunately has to deal with that.

Red and Blue - I don't see them often together but I always find them so wholesome. They compete over little things, push each other playfully, and awe over cute animals. They're just. They wholesome

CG and Purple - I love the idea of Red and Green being the friendliest towards Purple. I mean, that's true in canon too, with Green especially. Blue and Purple would bond over plants. Yellow and Purple would bond over code, and be competitive with each other as well. With Orange, Im not sure? They're okay with each other I guess?

CG and Mango - Neutral, Im guessing. They're forgiving of a grieving old man/lh but would certainly not forget about the entirety of s3. Now whether or not Mango and Purple live together, I honestly do not know. I do like to think Purple is welcome to stay in Mango's home but they just go elsewhere often, whether to stay in minecraft or do some temporary job.

For the Hollowheads:

Chosen and Dark - They were best friends, and then fell out due to a misunderstanding. I don't really want to believe Dark is truly dead, but Chosen would unfortunately believe that. Angst™. Tbh I actually don't have much for them unless canon tells me more, so this is all I have.

Chosen and Orange - Siblings. I've always liked the idea Orange looks up to Chosen, and I guess Chosen would kinda be uncomfortable with that. And then AvA 6 ep 1 happened, so now Orange knows Chosen is a dork. A very caring older sibling dork. Who kidnapped and endangered him- but still.

I unfortunately have nothing for Victim. (Canon and Fanon)

This is messy, and I apologize profusely

#anon ask #alan becker #animator vs animation

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iaure · 1 year ago

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ here lies an entire portion of Gothic 4 that I ended up scrapping due to it’s own strangeness within the fic. I hated how it came out, but only because where it fit in the fic didn’t really work. it’s underneath the cut! feel free to indulge, and get minor spoilers for the fic lol

Miguel didn’t want to wait anymore.

Layla had warned him that just jumping into a world without a Spider-Man could have dire consequences. Something about too many Spider-Men at once. It made him hesitate just a moment too long, before he decided to let Layla simply track them. Damn Layla being overwhelmed. She could focus on this one task. Y/N and Miles were wandering around Earth-42 for a bit, scampering from one spot to the other until they eventually landed at an Alchemax. Why, where, how, Miguel didn’t care.

They started the collider, and Miguel saw how Y/N kept on glitching out. Her glitches were far more common than Miles’, fizzing with pain that made her huff and bend over to clutch her stomach. Miguel loved Y/N very much, but some little sadistic part of him hoped it hurt, the way she hurt him. He hoped it hurt as bad as it did when she abandoned him. But he shoved that thought aside. She had a normal reaction. She had a normal reaction. He had to keep reminding himself of that. The three got intercepted by some Kingpin variant that was easy for them to sweep. Bastard didn’t stand much of a chance when he had two Spider variants and a Prowler ready to turn him into dust. From there, it was smooth sailing for them. They hopped into the collider, Earth-42 Miles decided to tag along, blah blah blah sappy speech, Miguel had seen it before a thousand times. He didn’t quite care. He just needed to know where the hell they were going. No one knew, in all honestly. He could figure out their plan-go to another world with another Spider variant, snag their watch, and head to Earth-1610-B. Maybe he could intercept them at Earth-1610-B, but there was no guarantee that they’d even make it that far. And if they did, he could get jumped by all three, and one of them could run out and save Miles’ father. No, stopping them once they reached the second step of their plan was the wisest course of action. Intercept, divide, and conquer.

But once he had Y/N, what would he do?

The thought made him pause. There was a thousand and one things he wanted to do. Make her cry? Make her apologise? Get on his knees and beg for her love? Go on a date? He couldn’t make up his mind. Part of him felt confused. This wasn’t normal. He knew that. But at this point, he was past that. He was ready to do anything to get his hands on the woman he wanted to be his wife, regardless if she was ready or not. He would make a life for her and him, a world where Y/N would be his wife. He’d wake up next to her, make coffee, talk in the morning before he went to work at Alchemax. He’d be the sole provider, letting her rest, do anything she wanted so long as she didn’t leave. Y/N could’ve had everything. But she started this game of tag. He was going to end it. He was going to keep her to himself. He was going to marry her, make a family and a life with her. The idea was enough to drive him insane. And maybe he was, at this point, because what Spider-Man would do such a thing? Was this truly the canon?

“Miguel. They landed in Prime Earth, 616. Tread carefully.”

Layla’s voice snapped Miguel out of his thoughts. Prime Earth? The original Earth? The original Peter Parker would be sure to be sympathetic to their cause. He needed to catch them before Peter Parker did. “Let’s go.” The portal opened wide, orange and yellow maw ready to devour Miguel whole. If he did this, then his intentions were to be made clear. If he let Y/N go, then maybe she’d be able to see him differently. Maybe she’d have the heart to forgive him, to be willing to talk. But Miguel wouldn’t think. He would only do.

#୨♡୧ gothic updates #message to the flock #yandere miguel o'hara x reader

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hunterwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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How do you write the victims of Mandela Catalogue?(Mark, Cesar, Adam, and Jonah)

Ahh, Victim crew! Sure!

🔫 Mark is a quiet man, but when he gets comfy around someone, he can be pretty excited!

🔫 Him and Cesar have known each other since like, 2nd grade and have been close ever since!

🔫 When he was a kid, Mark was the typical shy kid, hiding behind his mom when Cesar first met him, scared of the outgoing boy.

🔫 He's used to being dragged around by Cesar for things. He tried fighting it at first, but Cesar is a LOT STRONGER THAN HE LOOKS.

🔫 Doesn't help that Mark is built like an Iphone. Er...Blackberry? Whatever mobile phones they had back then, Mark has that build.

🔫 Aroace. I don't make the rules.

🔫 Classic Catholic boy. Prays, goes to church, confesses his sins, probably has trauma, yk.

🔫 He's given himself a heart attack with his left-out laundry on multiple occasions.

🔫 Doesn't really talk much with his parents, as both work a lot.(Mom works at the church, dad is elsewhere.) Thanks to this, his personal hygiene isn't the best.(He doesn't wanna risk contact with them.)

🔫 Honestly, he probably sees Dave as his dad more than his actual dad.

🔫 Oh yeah, I see Dave as his Uncle btw. Do with that what you will.

📞 Cesar is pretty much the opposite of Mark, being very outgoing and friendly with other people.

📞 Like, sometimes, Mark has to drag Cesar out of church to get his ass home levels of outgoing.

📞 Cesar is very much cishet. Don't be weird about it.

📞 He will fuck up anyone who gets on Mark's ass. Again, he's stronger than he looks.

📞 If the bowtie comes off, heaven help you.

📞 or Hell.

📞 God and Satan will turn the other way if that happens, probably.

📞 Aside from that, he's a great cook!

📞 If he hears you say something bad about one of his friends, he's just gonna. kick you out.

📞 I don't remember if this is canon, but idc, Cesar and his family is hispanic, I don't make the rules.

📞 That's why he's so good at cooking! His mom gave him some good recipes!

📞 If he's having a bad day, he'll just sorta. Grab himself some orange sorbet out of the freeze and go through it until he feels better.

📞 Alternate Cesar, however...

📞 Alternate Cesar is a bit of a cunt.

📞 Manipulative, emotionally devastating, lying, and cunning, Alt Cesar is pretty much everything that Cesar himself isn't.

📞 If by some chance, he gets attached to someone, heaven help them, because Gabriel sure as Hell can't control him.

📞 Not in a bad way, mind you, he still has enough cognitive thinking that he knows not to hurt someone he cares about.

📞 He'll just be overly possessive and protective of them.

🍎 Adam Murray! Oh boy, my favorite Victim! :D

🍎 Not gonna show too much favoritism here though.

🍎 Low empathy. RIGHT OFF THE BAT, THIS GUY HAS LOW EMPATHY.

🍎 Alternate or not, he's got low empathy and it SHOWSSS.

🍎 He has an AFFINITY for apple flavored shit.

🍎 Apple pies, apple cobblers, apple juice, apples, apple pudding, apple sauce, apple candy, candy apples, apple tarts, ANYTHING APPLE, THIS GUY LOVES.

🍎 That being said, if someone gives him anything SOUR that's apple flavored, he'll feel betrayed and never forgive them. He doesn't like sour shit.

🍎 Because "that shit hurts my mouf :("

🍎 He did care about Evelin, he just had issues showing that.

🍎 He tried sharing his interests with her, it sucks that his interests are vague prophecies and hunting down demons or ghosts.

🍎 Has a weird dislike for sports.

🍎 Probably because he can't wear his hoodie.

🍎 Seriously, Sarah swears this guy never washes his hoodie.

🍎 He does well in almost no classes aside from like, history.

🍎 This guy could tell you NOTHING about the Pythagorean theorem, but he could tell you JUST HOW MANY PEOPLE DIED IN WORLD WAR ONE.

🍎 He has morbid interests.

🍕 I don't write much with Jonah, but like, dude is UNIRONICALLY A HARDCORE SHAGGY KINNIE.

🍕 He tried pitching the idea of getting an animal mascot for the Bythorne Paranormal Society.

🍕 This didn't work.

🍕 Jonah was very sad.

🍕 Bakes on occasion.

🍕 One of said things he can bake is probably easy to guess.

🍕 Pizza connoisseur.

🍕 The only way to get this guy to lay off your pizza is to order pineapple on your pizza.

🍕 Pothead, I'm sorry.

Sorry there ain't much for Jonah, I don't know how to write him much. I hope you enjoy the stuff! <3

#mandela catalogue mark heathcliff #mandela catalogue cesar torres #mandela catalogue adam murray #mandela catalogue jonah marshall

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phoenixtakaramono · 1 year ago

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What did you think about Helluva Boss season 2 episode 4? Do you think it's a good season or is it kinda fizzling out? Do you think the stolitz ship is gonna survive this season? Is anything thats happening in cannon going to have an effect of "A prince and his barron"? Thank you!

1) Ooh, alrighty, Anon. It’s been awhile since I got a HB-related Ask! Honestly, I felt, for what the episode had to do, from an objective point of view as an adult who’d graduated from a design college (thus, I’ve seen the amount of work folks from the Illustration - Animation fields have to do and the miracles they have to pull out on a deadline) and as a fanfic writer who keeps up with new Helluva Boss episodes so I can keep up with the canon lore, the episode served its purpose. The end of the episode hit hard, no? So they delivered on that. Personally I would change a couple things to make certain things hit even harder (because I’m sadistic and love me my emotional knives in stories) but that’s only because I’m a writer myself and I always have things I would do differently, even for my favorite shows or movies, haha.

It might not be my favorite episode per se, but we’re almost halfway to the end of Season 2 so there are going to be episodes that are stronger and episodes that are weaker. That’s just how shows go, overall. Plus, they are an indie crew so you just have to be more forgiving, especially when it’s a collaborative group effort with everyone’s conflicting schedules all around the world, time crunches, and unexpected setbacks such as having to find another VA and nervously hoping the realistic backlash of a changing VA won’t hit too hard. There’s also the rumor I’ve seen floating around that Loona’s VA was grieving the loss of her fiancé during this episode, so her not voicing any lines is also understandable on a fundamentally personal empathetic level (I don’t know if this rumor has been debunked, but it’s also still understandable for any other reasons. But I won’t get into that here.)

Animation is hard, y’all. And you have to remember the people creating Helluva Boss are human. Not all episodes will be perfect. Even with my favorite show rn, I have certain episodes I’m happy to rewatch and certain ones I skip. There are certain seasons that will be stronger and some that you’re not that into.

I will have to say, this episode isn’t an automatic skip for me unlike the Cherubs episode sorry, I just don’t like the Cherubs personally, haha, but I understand their reason for existing in the canon lore so kudos to the animators and VAs. I do appreciate the animation of S2:E4 though. The songs were nice, and it was interesting to see the storyboards and the tweets from the song writers about the direction they were given—and how that resulted in the final product. It’s very interesting to see all the behind-the-scenes stuffs.

2) I have yet to see all the episodes of Season 2 so I will be reserving my judgement. Of all four episodes released thus far, I think S1 is stronger—but it’s an unfair comparison (like apples vs oranges) because we’ve seen all the episodes of S1 and we have yet to see the rest of S2.

“Fizzling out” is a strong word. Hmm. (Anon, and I mean this with love, if my support or interest in a show genuinely “fizzles out,” that’s not a good thing; you’re not going to see me continuing with something if my enthusiasm fades and it feels like a chore just to sit through something, trust me.) I have to say, excluding the Circus episode which was very, very strong and Exes and Oohs which I just adored, the rest of the episodes released thus far have things I like and a couple things I’m meh about. But, again, that’s par for the course. So I can’t objectively determine if S2 is fizzling out or weaker yet; I’d have to sit through the rest of the unreleased episodes to make that determination and then see S3.

I can’t remember off the top of my head, but I believe Vivziepop tweeted they were already working on the scripts for S3 or S4. Feel free to correct me on this! But whether it’s S3 or S4 or S5, it shows they have a plan and a strategy and there’s a lot more they want to explore and show us. They’re not spontaneously creating plot beats after every episode has aired (trust me, spontaneous writing is HARD; I have massive respect for writers who can write spontaneously—and still be able to execute it well). I’m in it to witness the spectacle and see where they take us.

3) Hm. So, hot take, but the Stolitz ship is always going to survive regardless of what season it is. They’re not ignorant. I don’t know why there are some people who think or worry the ship isn’t going to survive. It’s the main draw, the main ship, the main way they’re making profit. They sell Stolitz merchandise; it’s the most popular ship in the show. It’s not even fanon; it’s canon. So an expectation has been set, and they have to deliver. Betrayal of expectations, regardless of subversion, will be met with backlash; no one likes the feeling of being lied to. So if the Stolitz ship doesn’t survive, their viewership is going to tank. If viewership tanks, that means less interest, and less interest means less money in the bank.

I’m looking at it realistically—which is honestly kinda immersion-breaking for me because this ruins any tension of the “will they, won’t they” for me, haha (like, no, you definitely know they will)—but it’s honestly why I’m not panicking even if there is “a breakup” or “let’s see other people” or “let’s take a break from each other” or a fakeout death planned. <- That, I think, would be the worst extent of the Stolitz ship temporarily “not surviving” (ey, I understand, as a writer you gotta throw in some angst, hardship, and obstacles so when your characters get together, it feels deserving and earned), but obviously they’re going to finagle a way to get Blitzø and Stolas back together as a couple.

At the end of the day, it boils down to the HB crew’s execution of this ship in the show. There’s a lot of pressure resting on their shoulders, and I wish them luck and success.

At the end of the day, people are being paid to put out a product for mass consumption so they are invested in seeing that product succeed so they can continue to make a profit for as long as they can. Helluva Boss is their money-making machine aka golden goose. This pays the bills for them. They’d be stupid to kill off their golden goose (Stolitz). A lot of names (especially big ones with the VAs) are also attached, so they also want it to succeed. Even if there’s a loud minority of antis on the HB critical side who consistently air that they don’t like the Stolitz element, honestly, nothing they say will make the show-runners of Helluva Boss change their mind on Stolitz being canon and delivered.

4) Is anything that’s happening in canon, as more and more episodes are being released, going to affect my Stolitz fic: A Prince and His Baron (AO3 🔗).

Yes. And no. What I mean by that is I’m going to be choosy with what I see in canon. It’s the reason why I initially strategized to make P&B an AU, because the big risk of writing a long fic for an ongoing show is at some point, inevitably canon will contradict what I have planned or written. With making it an AU, I get to be selective about the canon Easter eggs I want to include or be influenced by.

For example, with the reveal of them being childhood friends in the Circus, I understand and acknowledge their canon direction, but I’m obviously going to ignore it in my AU. They’re going to stay as strangers who happened to meet in their adult years as an assassin imp on the rise and a powerful Goetia prince who wants him on the Royals faction side. Because the latter makes sense for my AU and they have to develop their relationship from a one-night stand (with benefits -> granting Blitz his baron status and land -> lowkey manipulation to make Blitz indebted to him and the land has automatically made Blitz a vassal to the prince by definition) to an understanding and feelings of genuine affection and devotion. We’re playfully poking fun at the Harlequin romance genre after all (assassin x prince), with some Hellish infernal politics.

Somethings I’m taking from canon include the dynamic between Stella and Andrealphus. Oh boy, Stella. What a complete turnaround in opinion I have of her, haha. I’m probably going to take a different approach to her (potential spoiler alert for P&B: she’s still “evil” but I like the idea she’s been spoiled and perhaps manipulated, so for certain things she has a bottom line when it comes to wickedness—and Andrealphus will have crossed that at a certain point in the story and it challenges her core beliefs because now she has to decide betraying her family or aligning herself with the husband (and imp) she despises). Of course, the more episodes I see, the more decisive I will be in deciding whether or not to go with this angle. If I see Stella continues to be an unrepentant b*tch in canon, she may not have the relatively good outcome I had been planning for her in my story at the end with the royal wedding between Stolas and Blitzø.

I also have other things P&B are being affected by, such as the worldbuilding of the rings of Hell. So while I can fill in the blanks and make P&B entirely off my imagination, it’s fun to see the canon lore and see which things to keep and which things I want to take a different approach with. :)

Thank you for the Ask, anon! 💞

#helluva boss #stolitz #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss stolas #blitzo x stolas #ask #anon #a prince and his baron

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soaring-kite · 2 years ago

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Hello, I hope you don’t mind but if your still doing prompts/ask’s but I love your KHR x DC fanfic so to cut to the chase, what would happen if the Bat Family meet the Arcobaleno?

stranger, I am never not open for asks and prompts.

So, long answer short: pandemonium.

Long answer long: it'd be like... an ex meeting a new s/o, I think (from what I know about relationships, ahah) because, for all that I think the Acrobaleno wasn't per say family, they were, for whatever short period, a team. They went through the same trauma together, they were brought together by the same Sky (even if unwillingly, maybe) and yeah. ok, so, there are two ways this could go in my opinion.

Canon!Acrobaleno are transported briefly for whatever reason into the DCU.

The Acrobaleno were reincarnated alongside Fon.

In the case of the first, then they actually wouldn't mind too much??? I think??? They've got their Fon and the DCU have got theirs. Like, yeah, they may not understand how and Verde might have a conniption, but that's it. Wait. And they're also very confused about the whole 'heroes vs. villains' thing because where do you draw the line? What is a hero? What is a villain?

In the case of the second, however...

Orange (we'll go with Luce, because she's... idk, the OG I guess): Her opinion won't really matter much to Fon, because she's the one who hurt him in his past life. As for her opinion, well, she understands. She accepts is and wishes him well. Fon will give her a tight, sad smile and then turn away as the Bats either look between them in curiosity, distrust or anger, depending on if he's told them about Luce.

Yellow: Reborn would act as if he doesn't care. He'll be a bit split, though, in reality. That easy camaraderie and laughter—that's what he wanted from the Acrobaleno, once upon a time even if he'd refuse to admit it. (That's what he wanted with Fon, before the Curse, once upon a time). Even if he comes off as a suave Italian, he's really an idiot. He'd sneer and lash out and the Bats wouldn't really take it well.

Green: Honestly? Verde wouldn't care that much. However, he would be eager to ask questions as to how, why, and when to a lot of things. Some of them sensitive. This will, obviously, rub the Bats the wrong way (ignoring some of their hypocrisy at times). Most of all, I think, he would be confused. The underworld offered so much, gave so much, gave respect and dignity and they wouldn't make you go to school, Fon. So why?

Blue: Colonello and Lal... would be wistful, I think. They were, once, before mafia, military. Sure, not... completely sane military, but military. They'd understand Fon's decision but, if it came down to it, they're not too sure they would make the same decisions as he did. They never were as nice as him, as forgiving as him, as moral as him. (That's what they admire about him, actually. Even after all he faced, he's so very inherently kind). The Bats like them second best and give them the same respect they'd give veterans.

Indigo: Viper... is Viper. Much like Verde, they want to know the how's and why's and when's. Again, this rubs the Bats in the wrong way. They don't like how Viper chases after money. It just feels wrong to them. They especially don't like it when Viper sneers at them and tells them that everything has a price. They almost chase Viper out for that.

Violet: Skull. God, Dick loves Skull, no joke. I've already done one for Skull in the past. The rest of the Bats are a bit more wary, but Skull is undoubtedly the favourite. Skull, meanwhile, is delighted to be the favourite for once and jumps into the mess with fervour.

#acrobaleno #my asks #khr #DCU

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samstree · 3 years ago

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Hug a Witcher Day (3/4)

In which Jaskier goes missing in the spring. Can Geralt finally realize his feelings for the bard in the middle of a crisis?

(hurt/comfort, soft geraskier, 3k, rated T, cw: mentions of a canon-era plague, sick children, and a citywide lockdown.)

part 1, part 2, read on AO3

The third year since Jaskier invented Hug a Witcher Day, Geralt all but forgets about it completely.

He steps into the Two Weatherfish, where they agreed to meet, and realizes that the bard isn’t here. Or in the entire city of Ard Carraigh. No one has seen any trace of the famous bard who won’t quit singing praises for witchers.

Geralt pushes down the slight panic in his chest as he steps out of the last tavern in the city, and decides to just head for Oxenfurt.

It’s not like Jaskier has been the most reliable companion in the past, often distracted by dalliances or even anything shiny and new. One time he wandered off to watch a local celebration and Geralt found him hours later next to a lake, with thousands of lanterns floating above the water, illuminating the night sky like burning stars peppered on a dark canvas.

The soft, orange light spilled over Jaskier’s features, his eyes gleaming like the stars too.

Geralt snorts despite himself. There’s no doubt the bard is just delayed by someone who caught his eye and decided that a promise to a witcher isn’t all that important—the same witcher who he keeps claiming to be his best friend.

Geralt isn’t sure how to feel about that, or how to react when he finally sees Jaskier. Perhaps he will cease to talk about hunts for a while, leave the bard hanging, just so he can get a taste of the same frustration.

The pettiness remains in Geralt’s mind up until he steps into the academy and rampant fear licks up his chest.

Essi is the one who meets him at the gates, worry deep between her brows and rambling about how Jaskier never made it to the yule ball like he should. In her hands are two letters, clearly Jaskier’s handiwork judging from the neat curves and flourish, talking about his excitement to see his ‘Little Eye’ perform again, and how unfortunately his travel would be delayed due to an unexpected ailment.

Don’t you fret, poppet, for I am sure to beat this sickness within days. The promise of listening to your new ballad is already doing wonders for my health! It is a shame that my stay in Vizima is soured thus. The city, so beautifully rich in culture…

“Vizima,” Essi says frantically. “A plague broke out in the city last winter. Smallpox.”

A buzz begins to ring by Geralt’s ear, muffling out Essi’s voice and leaving only the thundering of his own heartbeat.

“They told me King Foltest sealed the gate to stop the spread, and…and no one has heard from anyone inside since then. Geralt, please, you are a witcher. Aren’t you immune to human sickness? That’s what Jaskier told me, isn’t that right?”

“I…yes.” The lump in Geralt’s throat stops any other words from getting out. His blood runs cold in the warm breeze of Oxenfurt’s spring.

“Please, Geralt, you must find him. I need to know. The university won’t allow me to go, but I…I must know. No matter what happened to him.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Tears well up in blues eyes too similar to Jaskier’s. Essi would be my sister in another life, Jaskier once commented adoringly and it’s only standing right here that Geralt can truly see the identical fierceness in her eyes.

As if Geralt needs her to ask. As if he isn’t willing to charge into the land of the dead if it means Jaskier gets out of it unscathed.

“Of course, Essi,” he promises solemnly. Her clutch on his forearm is so tight that any other man would be bruised by the force. “I promise.”

“Keep him safe, if it’s not too late.”

In his near-century long life, Geralt has rarely felt cold, unrelenting fear as he does when Essi breaks into sobs.

The sickness in Vizima casts a gloomy cloud over the sky, choking Geralt’s breaths. The streets are eerily empty. Only a few people will pass through in a frenzy every now and then.

Geralt’s legs take him right through the main streets, to the far corner of the city, where countless makeshift tents are set up and stretching towards the edge of the woods. If anyone has indeed fallen to the disease, that’s the most likely place they will be sent to. If anyone passes, that’s also where they keep the records so friends and families can look for their names.

Bile rises in his throat at the idea of looking through stacks of books for Jaskier’s name.

Geralt walks between hundreds of beds of one tent after another. Some healers throw him an odd look but carry on with their work, the flash of their white scrubs weaving through the busy establishment.

Against all odds, a pang of relief hits Geralt when he notices how the patients are well-treated by healers who seem to know what they are doing. The fever is brought down with a soaked cloth and a minty salve is applied for the irritation on the skin.

He searches and searches, until the sun is almost down, when—

A soft tune is carried over by the gentle breeze of spring.

And there Jaskier is, kneeling next to a little boy on a bed and humming a lullaby that Geralt only remembers vaguely. The bard is wearing the same white scrub like every carer at this camp, his brown hair slightly ruffled, and dark circles are hanging under his eyes. Geralt can see how tired he is by the hunch of his shoulders and the barely-there quiver in his singing, by his unkept stubble and the smile that’s dangerously close to falling.

And yet, he makes the most beautiful sight in the world.

Geralt stands there, drinking in the presence of his bard. The languid heartbeat of a witcher picks up, fluttering and almost bursting out of his chest.

Jaskier runs his fingers through the boy’s hair when the lullaby comes to an end. He tucks in the blanket and slowly pulls himself up, his knees creaking from the strain.

Blue eyes meet Geralt and Jaskier’s shock morphs into unbridled, blazing joy. Within the blink of an eye, the bard is standing right in front of Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes oh so carefully like he’s scared of waking from a dream. “What are you doing here? Wait, you don’t have any protec—oh right! Witcher biology. Can’t catch anything from us.” The bard lets out a sigh and his shoulders drop in relief. “How did you get through the gate? Punched another guard, didn’t—”

“You are okay,” Geralt says, dumbly.

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier frowns. “Geralt, why did you come to Vizima in the middle of a plague? Not that I’m complaining about seeing you, but how exactly did you find me?”

Geralt doesn’t want to look away from Jaskier’s face—ideally for a long time to come, but he needs to rummage through his pack for the crumpled letters.

“You sent these to Essi last winter.”

Jaskier takes the letters, flattens the frayed edges before reading his own words.

“Yes, I did tell her…” Cold horror takes Jaskier aback. “Shit. She must think—Oh, Geralt, that wasn’t it! I only caught a stomach bug. It was never the pox! But then…they locked the city gate so fast and everything was in chaos for weeks. I couldn’t get more letters out. Oh, I wish I could take it back! I didn’t think—”

“You damn well didn’t.”

The words come out a lot harsher than Geralt intended, and Jaskier flinches back. Geralt pinches at the bridge of his nose, feeling contrite at his untimely outburst.

“No, Jask—I’m not…” he heaves out a sigh. “She didn’t even know if you were alive for months.”

Neither did I.

“I’m so sorry.” Jaskier is close to tears. “She must be worried sick.”

“She is.”

I was.

“And you too, Geralt. Please forgive me.” Jaskier’s chin wobbles, his arms hovering between the two of them as if he wants to put them around Geralt. “I want to ask you not to be cross with me again, but that seems to be all I do.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt calls out when he finds not even an ounce of anger in his heart, not when he just spent weeks fearing the worst, not when Jaskier is standing right in front of him, safe and hale, his eyes flowing with guilt.

Jaskier might just be the death of him.

“Fuck. Just don’t pull this again.” Geralt softens his tone, knowing how unfair the request is when such things are out of Jaskier’s control, but the bard replies in earnest.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Exhaustion washes over the bard once again, making him look a lot older than he is. From the looks of it, Jaskier has been working in these camps for months and the last thing he needs is an unsupportive friend.

And Geralt doesn’t intend to become one.

“And you are dressed like this because?” Geralt nudges Jaskier in the shoulder to ease the apprehension on his face.

“Funny you should ask.” The bard presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. “I may have lied—nay, implied—that the seven degrees I acquired at Oxenfurt included…medicine. Hold on! Before you judge, I do know how to care for pox patients. I caught it as a child too and that’s why I’ve been fine this whole time.”

“Hmm. But you don’t have the—”

“The scars. No thanks to my grandmother’s secret healing salve that she insisted on keeping secret. It worked like a charm back then, almost like magic. We’ve been trying to replicate from whatever I remember. The mint is helping a little but something is still missing. Oh, well.” The bard rubs his fingers at the hem of his scrub. “Perhaps that explains all these crazy rumors about her heritage, with all her herbs and teas that always miraculously cured everybody. Honestly, I don’t even blame them.”

Geralt muses the possibility of Jaskier’s grandmother not being completely human and makes a silent decision to unpack it later.

“Then I guess your personal experience should come in handy if we are going to stay here for a while.”

“We? You are staying?”

“The exits are still closed.” Geralt tilts his head in nonchalance. “Might as well lend them a hand.”

And never take his eyes off of Jaskier again.

“That’s…wonderful, in a terrible, terrible way. Being trapped in the same place during a plague. Gods, that sounds like something out of the cheesiest romance novel.” Jaskier gasps as soon as the words are out. The smile on his face blossoms into a heated blush.

“Just promise me one thing, Jask.”

“What?” The cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically avoid Geralt in a vain attempt to hide how flustered he is.

Don’t scare me like this again.

Don’t get taken from me.

Don’t leave me.

“Read less romance novels. Once this blows over,” Geralt answers, finally.

The fluttering in his chest returns, although this time for a completely different reason. The reason not being how adorable Jaskier looks embarrassed and rosy-cheeked.

No. Definitely not.

“Little Simon asleep?”

Geralt asks as he stokes the fire, watching Jaskier struggle out of the sweat-soaked scrub and throw it into the laundry pile. The bard sits down next to him on the log with a groan and leans into his arm.

“As flattered as I am that he can’t fall asleep without my songs, it does get a bit taxing to sing every night while kneeling on the floor.”

“The kid is sick. Can’t blame him for having bad taste in music.”

The jab would have landed better if he isn’t wrapping his arm around Jaskier so that he can rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. The days are too long even with most of the patients released home, and it’s been taking a toll on Jaskier.

“Cruel to me when I’m down, huh?”

Under Geralt’s palm, it’s unmistakable that Jaskier’s arm isn’t as thick as it once was, and he really doesn’t want to think about how the sharp of Jaskier’s jaw is becoming more prominent by the day.

Geralt rubs gently up and down Jaskier’s bicep to draw a contented purr out of him.

“Hmm. Now you’re forgiven.” Jaskier nuzzles into the crook of Geralt’s neck so his muscles loosen under the ministration. “It’s so unfair that a shift never wears you out like the rest of us, my dear. So unfair that you don’t need as much food too. I’d kill for some witcher superpowers these days.”

“Trust me, you won’t like what they cost.”

The late summer heat, mixed with the smell of sweat in Jaskier’s hair, should make it extremely uncomfortable to be sitting so close, but Geralt only finds it calming to have Jaskier sagging against him.

Jaskier’s thinning shoulder is too worrisome. Geralt will have to leave him most of the dinner rations again. Excuses are so easy to find, once Geralt realized that Jaskier never questions what he’s told about witcher biology, trusting every word from Geralt’s mouth. It’s just a little lie, a little exaggeration.

The bard is rubbing off on him.

“Simon is among the last ones here,” Jaskier says tiredly into Geralt’s neck. “It will soon be over. They are saying everyone can go in a month or so.”

“We can go even now.”

The prospect of traveling again stirs up something hopeful under Geralt’s skin, prickling with excitement, but he knows more patience is required for now.

“Nah, I should at least see little Simon home. You were right that the boy has suffered enough. The fever is terrible. Even I still have nightmares about it after so many years. It’s excruciating, almost like death is trying to mock you. One moment a fire burns through your whole body, the next it swallows you whole into this…nothingness, cold and alone.”

Geralt tightens his hold and breathes in the melancholic scent emanating from Jaskier’s skin.

“It was my grandmother, again. She sang the same lullaby to me every night, kept me sane. It’s helping little Simon too.”

“It’s in elvish,” Geralt murmurs absently when Jaskier is close to drifting off. The bard’s leveled breathing fans over the collar of Geralt’s neck.

“…hmm?”

“Nothing. Maybe for later.”

Geralt’s fingers reach the side of Jaskier’s head and thread between the soft brown locks, keeping his drooping head in place for the nap. When he looks down to where Jaskier casually drapes over half of his body, the two of them almost melding into one, Geralt is suddenly hit with how much their relationship has changed over the past few years, and at the same time, how it feels completely natural like puzzles fitting into place.

This newfound intimacy should scare Geralt, but strangely, it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the witcher has learned long ago to treasure his bard as a companion and friend, to protect him and care for him, even without ever admitting it out loud.

Maybe he should.

And what would he even say? Geralt is equally elated and stumped at the thought of the two of them growing into something more. If the fluttering in his chest is a result of loving Jaskier, the bard deserves to know, and he deserves the best words.

Geralt scoffs softly when he realizes that he’d kill for something completely opposite. Not the strength of a witcher, but the silver tongue of a bard, the ability to weave the most beautiful prose to describe what Jaskier means to him.

The summer cicadas are singing with renewed vigor, the sizzling sound disrupting his train of thought. For now, Geralt will need to content himself in simply being with Jaskier.

And, perhaps, in pressing a tiny kiss into his soft brown hair as well. Under the night sky, only the stars will know.

I didn't know plague doctor Jaskier could be a thing until I started writing this chapter, and the ending just had to make way for it. Sorry that the chapter count has gone up. I promise hugs are cuddles are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #soft geralt #hug a witcher day #soft jaskier #cw: plague #guess this should be a warning #protective geralt #essi daven #jaskier sings to children

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danny-chase · 3 years ago

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Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

“Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

“I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

“The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

“He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

“Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

“Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

“Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

“-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

“His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

“Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

“Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

“I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

“I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.

Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

“Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

“Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

“Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

“Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

“Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

“But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

“Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

“Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

“This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

“If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

“Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

“Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

“Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

“Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

“Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

“Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

“What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

“You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

“No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

“Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

“Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

“Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

“How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

“I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #titans #dc comics #batfamily #batman #batman and robin #dick grayson #tim drake #my writing #roy harper #lian harper #damian wayne #red robin #canon divergence #tw hospitals #tw anxiety #tw gsw #wrote this one just for me lol self indulgent

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nothingtoseehd · 4 years ago

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eah characters as cavetown songs

this was inspired by @/applewhiteapologist's eah characters as taylor swift songs, sooooooo yeah

some characters might not be here because: 1. it's hard to find songs for them (as of right now) 2. i forgot them/i'll do them if i have more time

apple white - devil town v2/green

-i chose devil town v2 because it seemed the most, uh, apple out of all the devil town versions? devil town v1 seems edgy-ish, and devil town v3 seems lower and calmer, i think???? maybe i just chose this because it has those light, floaty chords, i'm not sure, i'm not smart or anything -also i honestly felt like this was hard -i chose devil town because it could represent the future she pictured in her mind when raven didn't sign the book -i don't really know what to explain green, but like, ashlynn and apple in true hearts day??? that's the best way i could explain this song -lyric analysis time: --"i still get a little scared of something new, but I feel a little safer when i'm with you, falling doesn't feel so bad, when I know you've fallen this way too" ---apple is "a little scared of something new" because she's in for an unpredictable future without the storybook of legends ---for the falling part, it's like she's not so sad about being led astray when she's with her friends maybeeeeeee -lyrics for green because i can't explain it but it's just THERE: --"you looked so good in green i hope you’re well and you look so good with him and i’m proud of you still take care of my shirt warm and red i hope you think of me still as your friend i hope you love yourself your body and heart i hope you feel happy that’s all i want that's all i want"

raven queen - devil town v1 (dang it there's no purple text so have plain text)

-i just chose devil town v1 because i think it would work well with her guitar, i actually don't know how guitar works but i'm pretending to know how it works, don't tell anyone i don't know how they work -i think this song could represent her home life and whatnot because she's living with the evil queen -it's lyric analysis time!!: --"you said something dumb again, she's mad, at least that's what they say" (i just used orange so the lyrics wouldn't blend in as much) ---the something dumb thing could be like a 'nice deed' the evil queen doesn't like, and she's mad because of that --"we're all dead in devil town, that's fine, cause nothing's gonna scare us now" ---she's 'dead' after all the nagging and 'be eviL EMBRACE YOUR INNER EVIL' shit and it's now the normal, and it's not going to scare her since it's basically her life now -also slowed devil town can fit her too

madeline hatter - hug all ur friends/talk to me

-she's just so friendly?????? and supportive?????? and oh gosh i need a hug???????? -seriously though, they suit her because she feels so much like a huggy, supportive person and she's friends with everyone sooooooooooooo, hugs for everyone!! except you crystal!! and headmaster grimm!! not forgiving for the time you almost banished maddie!! -the lyrics because i can't explain these songs, it's just that maddie vibe, you know?: --"life’s too short to worry about things that we got wrong, so hug all your friends and let them know, you’re not letting go, i’m not letting go" (hug all ur friends) --"you don't have to be a prodigy to be unique you don't have to know what to say or what to think you don't have to be anybody you can never be that's alright, let it out, talk to me" (talk to me)

briar beauty - pigeon

-i had a very hard time with her but i think this kinda fits -it generates a sleepy vibe? (even though i didn't get this from the sleepyhead album *cough cough*) -okay, so the reason why i chose this for her is because of the chorus, which could kind of tie in with her destiny, with the 100 year coma -have the chorus for reference: --"didn’t give me time to say goodbye in the way that i wanted to, so honey, close your eyes and stay like you’re supposed to do, don’t know how i’m gonna live without, but i’ll stay strong for you"

ca cupid - sweet tooth/for you

-this is already self-explanatory if you listened to the song(s), buT IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, basically it's a song about an unhealthy crush and love and stuff -and you know who she has an unhealthy crush on???? that's right, it's blondie!! /hj (but seriously, in canon it's dexter but uH, i refuse to believe that, they're better off as friends) -lyric examples because like maddie, i can't really explain it but i know the vibe is THERE: --"a sweet tooth for you, i'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain, feel like a kid, i double tap, my chest with my fist, i like you, say it back, say it back"

cerise hood - snail

-snail iS SUCH A GREAT SONG OMG -snail kinda represents her childhood and 'not wanting to be born like this' because of her parents technically breaking destiny (stupid storybook of legends) -lyrics from the song because i kinda don't really need to explain this song more: --"i was just born like this, wish that i could change it" --"i'm hanging out with the foxes and the hounds, and when i fit in i'll break back out"

daring charming - boys will be bugs/lemons (technically cavetown is just a feature but he's still there so yeah)

-it's just about the vibes -and also about the fact that the person in the songs have to uphold some sort of standard (the songs' standards were about masculinity) and i thought it could fit daring because he also has to uphold a standard (being the perfect charming prince) -also in lemons, daring's part is the one where cavetown sings it (if that wasn't obvious) -also ANOTHER LEMONS SIDE NOTE, i'd imagine rosabella singing brye's part, just because -lyrics time: --"don't mess with me, i'm a big boy now and i'm very scary i punch my walls, stay out at night, and i do karate don't message me 'cause i won't reply, i wanna make you cry ain't that how it's supposed to be? though it isn’t me boys will be bugs, right?" (boys will be bugs) --"so i'm gonna take it out on you too proud to show i'm hurting push it on you 'til you're burning" (lemons)

darling charming - 888/trying

-888 is a fun song, very groovy, has peppa pig plasters, 10/10 -main reason i chose 888, it kinda feels gay when you put it under a certain light?????????? -and snail could also fit with darling but i don't want to rob cerise -i was very stuck for a second song for darling because i felt obligated to give the charming siblings two songs because they're that top tier, but i think trying could be a good fit to some extent -could be like 'not great relationship with parents, struggle to fit with their standards ever since she found out she wanted to be a hero or something' -i still do think snail is a better fit for darling but i really really don't want to rob cerise because cerise is amazing -some lyrics: --"i'm workin' things out clouds lookin' strange papercut fingers dancing on the strings if i could see you right now i'd dance just for you when the nightlight goes out" (888) --"please let me know if you change your mind cause inside i'm falling And I need you to pull me out of this decline i realize how hard on you this must seem But trust me when i say it's far, far worse for me" (trying)

dexter charming - telescope/home

-telescope just feels like his vibe???? also because it kinda also have hopeless romantic-ness???? -also i headcanon him to be an astronomy nerd???? so that's fun???? that's my reasoning i guess???? (also, side-note i have just listened to astronomy by conan gray and it fits dexter) -ALSO HOME IS HERE BECAUSE DEXTER IS TRANS YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND -also because it's also his vibe??????? -what time is it????? *clap clap* it's lyrics time!!: --"through the lens, it's dark, single-digit on the clock singing, "yessiree, i sure like-a you a lot" all i need is to get her she'll be happy if you let her" (telescope) --"turn off your porcelain face i can't really think right now and this place has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane are you dead? sometimes i think i'm dead cause i can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head but i don't wanna fall asleep just yet" (home)

okay the process of this post was just me staring at the lyrics and listening to cavetown a lot, sometimes during online classes but shhhh don't tell anyone (and finding more great songs)

is this post going to flop?? very very likely. do i care? eh, not sure, this was just me trying to put on my big brain hat.

also i realized while reading this post, that i never actually analyzed the majority of the songs' lyrics in this post?? so i'm very sorry

#eah #ever after high #apple white #raven queen #briar beauty #madeline hatter #ca cupid #c.a. cupid #cerise hood #daring charming #darling charming #dexter charming #it took so long to do this omg #nothing strikes again with random rambles about music #my braincells are kinda rotting but they're still working SO WE'RE FINE #nothing strikes again with random stuff

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

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Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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