#charlie playing at diplomacy

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Rosie sends an invite to Alastor, Niffty, Husk, and Charlie to come for dinner to meat her husband.

Charlie is clearly excited, gushing to Vaggie about building connections across pride and of course how wonderful is it Rosie married?

She doesn't get the giggling Niffty does but then, that's just who Niffty is.

Husk looks on the verge of telling her something... but gives up before a word comes out.

Cut to a large tray inthe middle of the table, the lid comes up and it's a special dish by the recently widowed. Cooked to perfection, naturally.

"Ah my dear, allow me to introduce you to my dear ex-husband... he was rather persistent about being introduced to my friends, so it felt only right to do an eat'n'greet."

"Aha... oooookaaaaaay..." Charlie grins, tightly, shooting a HELP ME glance over at Husk.

"Just try a little, Charlotte, Rosie always does find the most delectable specimens to marinate in her matrimonial methods." Alastor encourages, directing her to a nice cut of thigh meat.

"CAN I EAT HIS DI-...!"

A shadow tendril covers Niffty's mouth, giving Charlie a chance to take a bite without the full scrutiny of the table. She automatically tries to reject it, knowing that the meat was a Who rather than a What... but, and she's never telling Vaggie this... after the flavour hits her tongue it's clear she can manage this.

"...wow..." she huffs.

"Right? My last husand was a bit dry, so I went a little overboard on the juices this time... but if I do say so myself, he came out perfectly." Rosie preens. A calculating looks enters those voidless sockets. "Hmmm, but you, my dear... so youthful and brimming with power... why, I don't think I'd even need to go that far. Maybe mix in some spices for a compliment to your persistent personality..."

"Uhhhh...."

"(Cough)It'sacannibalcomplimentthingjustgowithit(cough)" from Husk.

"...thank you?" There's a pause. "Well, I'm a fan of sweet things so... I think... I'd want to try that recipe my dad likes where you mix spice and sugar on the meat so it tastes just balanced between the two?"

Rosie claps her hands in delight. "Oh, what a lovely thought, my dear! Alastor, you didn't mention how charming she was before, and I think you two need to collaborate if you ever get around to eatin' little old me... that's almost as scintillating as your idea."

"An excellent proposal!" Alastor heartily agrees. "Now, do... as you referred to it last time... 'spill the tea' about what is happening in that odd little territory by the railroad. You mentioned something about a budding overlord with some sort of... condiment theme?"

"Why yes, fascinating little upstart! Let me tell you..."

And it faded into the general murmur of dinner conversation as Charlie decided one that what Vaggie didn't know wouldn't hurt, as she finished her plate. She vaguely wondered if they could try the recipe with a non-sinner meat sometime at the hotel...

--------

Upon returning to the hotel, Charlie was able to report that things had gone exceptionally well, and relations with Cannibal Town were stronger than ever!

Lucifer congratulated her, but his snake-like tongue caught the faint scent of sinner on her breath when they spoke, and he merely raised an eyebrow. Raising more questions for Charlie about if her parents had ever had a... a meal of that calibre, in their aeons in Hell.

Vaggie was carefully dissuaded from a kiss until after she'd had a chance to brush her teeth, of course. Even if that meant a rather pointed pout in her direction.

"Heeeeey Whiskers, you wanna come t'my room and have a little after dinner entertainment?" Angel croons, lighting up as the cat appeared behind the group, half-carrying the yawning Niffty.

"Now, now, my good man, I believe dear Husker has had more than enough man meat in his mouth for one night..." Alastor drops, casually into the conversation, before striding off like nothing had happened.

Angel spat his drink a good four feet and wheezed as Husk tried desperately to provide context.

"...Charlie, what was that about?" Vaggie hedges.

She turns, guiltily grinning awkwardly and shrugging. "Uhhhh, nothing, just an inside joke from dinner..."

"Was that another euphemism...?" Angel croaks, half dead but no longer actively choking.

"Well, if one must be technical then it could be said everyone has had a specific sinner inside them tonight." comes the cackle as the shit-stirrer general disappears into shadow.

"I think Smiles is tryna kill me with weird innuendos..." Angel groans. "I didn't even know he could DO that..."

"Rosie's been teaching him 'slang'... often against his will." Charlie laughs, then covers her mouth as if she'd accidentally shared the wrong secret. "Ooops... please don't tell him I told you that, or he's going to call me a Cringefail Queen again. It was weird eough the first time."

"He called you a what in the who now?"

"Don't worry about it Dad, I'll tell you what that means later."

"Are we skipping over the fact you all ate sinner tonight, or...?" Vaggie queries. "You, Missie, are brushing your teeth before goodnight smooches."

"Heh, it's a... cultural exhange of sorts?"

"She's right Maggie, everyone's eaten a little flesh here and there over the centuries. No biggie."

"Did the short king just admit to eatin' ass?"

"He's going to turn you into charcoal if you keep that up, Legs."

"Pfft, you think that'd rile me up, Angel? I stole BOTH of Adam's wives, and got the big idiot eventually... of course I eat as-..."

"Lalalalalalalalaa CAN'T HEAR THIS!" Charlie yells, hands over her ears, as Vaggie steers her out of the room.

Angel, intrigued, leans forwards. "Tell me more..."

"Okay, so imagine existence before good and evil, there was this garden and-..."

Niffty vibrated in the corner, hanging on every word.

[sgiandubh]

JAMMF, 303

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser is today 303. Born to both strife and greatness, on Beltane Day.

Fictional characters never die for good, their energy keeps on lingering somewhere, in a corner of our heart. So, here's a heartfelt Happy Birthday to a formidable character that one day chose to possess Herself's imagination and brought us all together, in this strange digital limbo of sorts.

Despite his rock-solid appearance, JAMMF is a real chameleon. My favorite JAMMF is perhaps the least talked about one. The Diplomat. Of course.

This guy, playing chess at Versailles (in reality, it's Prague, and a sizably different kind of Baroque, but let's not nitpick, here). A wonderful metaphor for what diplomacy was, is and always will be: a sophisticated game of chess.

While in Paris, JAMMF is acting, in plain sight, as a diplomatic agent of sorts on behalf of Bonnie Prince Charlie's embryo of a government in exile. Desperately hoping and fruitlessly waiting for more. And making a very bad, emotional job of it all, when emotions are least needed, despite all those best laid plans. Still, he does exactly what a diplomat posted abroad would do. He meets all the important honchos, he brilliantly entertains all those people at his open table, he mingles with princes and beggars alike and of course, he dutifully reports in writing about all this, back to Scotland.

It is, therefore, a pity and a shame that Herself did not utter a single word, in Dragonfly in Amber, about the real Jacobite meeting place in Paris: Sorbonne's Collegium Scoticum/Scots College, or Collège des Écossais, founded in 1333, by an edict of the Parliament of Paris (what we would call today the local council) and as a belated, yet important consequence of the Auld Alliance treaty between France, Scotland and Norway:

This is a place with a rich and minutely documented history, so much so that the adjoining street soon came to be known as the rue des Ecossais (Scots' Street), instead of rue des Amandiers (Almond Tree Street).

The building is still there, albeit with a different destination, a private Catholic elementary school. And a plaque inside the main building tells part of the story, in Latin:

Meaning:

In 1325, under the reigns of Charles the Fair, in France and Robert the Bruce, in Scotland, David de Moravia, bishop of Murray founded this college. In 1604, Jacques de Bethun, archbishop of Glasgow made a seminary out of it, given to the perpetual administration of the Carthusian Order's Superior of Paris [later edit, forgot to translate that properly and the French version I eventually took out is incomplete, sorry!]. In 1639, the whole was placed under the authority of the King of France and the Archbishop of Paris, their supreme authority being solemnly ratified by the Parliament of Paris. In memory of the founders, the priests and the alumni, may they rest in peace!

[Later edit]: the eight year difference in records reflects the time it took for the Parliament of Paris to acknowledge the College's existence and offer its due legal protection. So: founded by the bishop of Murray in 1325 and legally authorized by the Parliament of Paris in 1333. Both dates are legit founding landmarks and can be quoted accordingly.

[everythingvolturi]

Demetri Character Analysis - Part 1

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Demetri New Moon - Duality of Diplomacy and Violence

Demetri first appears in the alleyway, instructed by Aro to bring two potential law-breakers back to him. Even in this tense and dangerous scenario with violence looming over everyone, Bella’s first impression of Demetri is his ‘soothing’ tone. This is no doubt a tactic to control the situation and discourage any rashness on Edward’s part. 

"Felix merely meant to point out the proximity of the sun," the other shadow said in a soothing tone. 

Even when Edward is refusing his request, Demetri continues to play the role of a ‘polite’ shadow who resembles ‘reasonableness’. Indeed, his request does seem reasonable - they 'merely' and ‘simply’ want to ‘speak’ somewhere less conspicuous.

But simple requests should have simple consequences - you don’t kill someone for refusing to comply. Him masking the underlying threat under the pretense of reasonableness when bringing someone back for trial is manipulative and calculating.

The second, more reasonable shadow cautioned. "Not here." He turned to Edward. "Aro would simply like to speak with you again, if you have decided not to force our hand after all."

It also shows that he is not someone that relies entirely on his vampire strengths and animalistics instincts (very common for vampires), and instead understands the politics of the hunt. 

A readiness to kill: 

What impresses me the most is how quickly he is able to shift from politely negotiating, to being ready to literally kill Edward and Bella, and then immediately return to his polite demeanor once Alice points out the human witnesses. He is able to evaluate the most suitable course of action in a split second, and adjust accordingly. This is not a simple task, as many hunters need to actively get into the mindset to kill.

I imagine this is a requirement for his job, where he is often the first point of contact with the accused, and would be forced to make a split second decision to either give them a chance to attend trial, or take swift actions to eliminate them if necessary.

‘No doubt, he would be a fighter. There was no other way he could have survived so long, always at the spear point of any attack. And he must always lead, because he was their tracker. (Breaking Dawn).

Therefore, Demetri is either someone who is able to calmly negotiate even when he is ready to kill, or someone who is able to quickly shift into a killing mindset. Either is equally impressive and dangerous.

Cruel Detachment:

“Nice fishing” (In reference to Heidi bringing back the group of tourists for the Volturi to feast on). 

It is one thing to completely disregard humans, it is another to joke about the mass-killing of them. I am not a vegetarian myself, but if I were to go to a farm and meet the cows that will to be sent to the slaughter house for the BBQ I’m throwing, I would not feel comfortable joking about it. 

To me, this is Meyer’s way of emphasizing the cruelty of the Volturi vampires, and using Demetri, who was the voice of reason, to make this comment really reinforces the point that even the most polite of them exhibits a callous detachment. It draws an interesting parallel to Alec’s interaction, where we are once again presented with a stark contrast between a vampire’s outward civility, and their inner detachment. It somehow drives the point more so than using someone like Jane and Caius.

Casanova of life?

Charlie Bewley, the actor portraying Demetri, once described the character as a “casanova of life.” However, there is nothing in canon that indicates this. In fact, I believe his proximity with Felix, who appears to be the actual casanova, would make this more difficult.

I imagine his tracking ability and Felix’s combat capabilities make them the perfect duo (find and eliminate), so the two would often work together. The persona Felix takes on is a flirty and impulsive muscle, and he often times might have to engage in conducts to reinforce this brute image (more on Felix in a later post). Therefore, Demetri would need to play the role of a mature, cautious leader, as seen in New Moon. This includes laying low and cleaning up Felix’s mess - to also participate in a promiscuous lifestyle would draw too much attention. I do think Demetri needs to be charming and sophisticated for his job, which might give the illusion of him being a ‘casanova’, but he's got too much responsibility to actually indulge in this lifestyle.

However, this is mostly my take on the limited information presented in canon. I would not be entirely surprised if he does turn out to be more promiscuous. It just means he is able to balance work with pleasure better than I give him credit for.

[blueiscoool]

Rare Gold Pendant Celebrating Henry VIII’s First Marriage Discovered

The heart-shaped accessory features the entwined initials of the Tudor king and Catherine of Aragon.

In June 1520, the rulers of France and England declared their friendship with an over-the-top display of wealth and power. Known as the Field of Cloth of Gold, the two-and-a-half-week summit featured feasts, jousts, wrestling matches, masques and an endless stream of entertainment. Neither France’s Francis I nor England’s Henry VIII spared any expense on the celebration, which cost the equivalent of around $19 million today.

Publicly, the Field of Cloth of Gold’s goal was diplomacy, marking an alliance between the two kingdoms. But the event had an underlying purpose: allowing each monarch “to outdo the other in splendor and military prowess,” as historian Tracy Borman told Smithsonian magazine in 2020. The kings’ personal “rivalry … was so intense that it almost blinded them to the expense involved,” she said. “They were desperate to prove their superiority over each other, no matter the cost.”

Few traces of the summit survive today. Designed to be ephemeral, the traveling courts’ temporary palaces were disassembled as quickly as they’d been constructed. But a rare find recently made in England’s West Midlands may offer a glimpse into the Field of Cloth of Gold—or at least help convey the majesty on display during the event and others like it.

In 2019, Charlie Clarke, a 34-year-old café owner who had recently taken up metal detecting as a hobby, discovered a gold pendant and chain in a field in Warwickshire. The heart-shaped pendant was emblazoned with the intertwined initials “H” and “K,” as well as a red-and-white Tudor rose and pomegranate bush—imagery associated with Henry and his first wife, Catherine of Aragon (also known as Katherine). Both sides bore the inscription “toujours,” a play on the French word for “always.”

When Clarke realized that he’d literally struck gold, he screamed “like a little schoolgirl, to be honest. My voice went pretty high-pitched,” he says to the Guardian’s Esther Addley.

Curators at the British Museum, which manages archaeological finds made by the English public through the government-run Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS), were similarly surprised, with some suggesting the pendant was a 19th-century fake rather than a genuine Tudor artifact.

“The majority of people who saw this at the museum felt it was almost too good to be true,” curator Rachel King tells the Financial Times’ James Pickford. “At the British Museum, we have the largest collection of objects in precious metal from the early Tudor period. None of them are anything like this—they tend to be smaller. Things like this haven’t really survived.” (The pendant measures almost 2 and a half inches in length, while the chain stretches to just over 17 inches.)

Careful analysis of the pendant’s iconography soon dispelled any doubts about its authenticity. According to the artifact’s record in the PAS database, it likely dates to between 1509, when Henry and Catherine married, and 1533, when their marriage was annulled. The database record offers a “reasonable” suggested date of around 1521, the year that a similar design was embroidered on equine body armor used during jousts at English court. 1521 was far from the first time Henry commissioned metalwork celebrating his marriage; ahead of a joust and banquet in July 1517, for example, artisans produced metalwork featuring “H” and “K” and other royal emblems to adorn the clothing of more than 100 guests and horses.

The 1517 record “suggests a huge amount of metalwork [was] being hastily prepared with visual impact in mind, none of which was intended to have longevity,” the database states. “[The pendant] could have been made in similar circumstances,” whether for the Field of Cloth of Gold or another extravagant event. Per a statement, it may have served as a prize won at a jousting tournament or a token worn by an attendee.

The British Museum team has found no evidence that the pendant personally belonged to either Henry or Catherine. But King tells the Guardian that “its quality is such that it was certainly either commissioned by or somehow related to a member of the higher nobility or a high-ranking courtier.” How the accessory eventually landed in a field in Warwickshire is unclear, but it will likely end up in a museum collection.

“Previously unknown potentially royal artifacts from the 16th century are very rare—and can give us important new insights into life at the top of Tudor society,” Lucy Wooding, a historian at the University of Oxford and the author of Tudor England: A History, tells the Independent’s David Keys.

Henry famously tried to divorce Catherine after becoming besotted with one of her ladies-in-waiting, Anne Boleyn, in the mid-1520s. But the queen refused to agree that the union was invalid, remaining steadfast in her belief that she was the king’s one true wife until her death in January 1536, a full three years after Henry had their marriage annulled so he could finally wed Anne. As Catherine wrote in her purported deathbed letter to Henry, “Lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things.”

By Meilan Solly.

[chaplinlegend]

Charlie Chaplin and Pola Negri - 1923.

The day they announced their engagement.

They met on Charlie Chaplin first visit to Berlin September 1921. At that time Charlie Chaplin was an unknown in Germany, his films had not yet been seen. A year later Pola Negri came to Hollywood, her and Charlie Chaplin met again October 1922. Pola signed a contract with Paramount Pictures. January 28th 1923, Charlie Chaplin and Pola Negri hold a press conference and announce they are engaged. For the next 5 months - They break up, get back together again, break up etc - finally June 28th 1923 it is announced they have definitely broken up.

**************************************************************

CHARLIE ABROAD – BY CHARLES CHAPLIN

"(...) I left Paris to go to Germany. I came back to Paris. I made up my mind quite abruptly to go into Germany and spend several days in Berlin. It never entered my head that there might be passport difficulties. There weren’t. The Belgian inspector who looked at my passport as we came into Germany sent it back to me in the train with this message: “I see your face and I know it. You may go.” I was not recognized in Berlin. Not for a day. At the Adlon Hotel they did not know me at all. This was a great relief. I do not mean that I am ungrateful for the splendid receptions that have been given me everywhere. I mean I was glad, for a day or two, to be simply myself, to see Berlin without being seen. They have had only one of my pictures there, The Rink, a very old one. It was playing the week I arrived. The evening of my arrival, I went to the leading restaurant, the “smart” cafe of Berlin. I did not dress. I had been browsing about all day, and did not go back to my hotel. I was motioned unceremoniously to the farthest corner, and the tiniest table, of the big dining-room. It was a beautiful place, and there were many beautiful women and well-dressed men there. I couldn’t see much from my table, but I meekly sat there, and I enjoyed myself hugely. I was passing out as unceremoniously as I came, when a man from one of the good tables, rushed up to me. It was Al Kaufman, Paramount’s European representative. He brought me to his table. There sat Pola Negri and Mrs. Kaufman. She is a delightful person. Young, vivacious, beautiful. She speaks no English—she is Polish. you know, not German, even though she has played in the German pictures, Passion and Gypsy Blood—and we became good friends. I dined with the same party every one of the three nights I spent in Berlin. Negri is coming to America in January to make pictures in California. She will be a revelation. I also met Ernst Lubitsch, the German director of Deception and Passion and Gypsy Blood. He does not speak English; nothing but German— so we did not have many conversations. (...)"

Charles Chaplin, Charlie Abroad (1921) (x)

https://scrapsfromtheloft.com/movies/charlie-abroad/

**************************************************************

POLA NEGRI, "IN HER OWN WORDS"

"I met Charlie Chaplin on his first evening in Berlin. I was introduced to him at a party that I attended that evening with my friends Albert Kaufman and his wife at a fashionable Berlin restaurant called Palais Heinroth. Although I had heard the name Chaplin before, I was not fully aware of the actor’s position in the world of cinematography, nor had I seen any of his films. During the war, American films were not shown in Berlin, so Chaplin was not particularly well-known in Germany, nor were other stars from overseas. But since he summed up my professional achievements with a long list of compliments, I replied, not wanting to be indebted, that I considered him one of the greatest artists in the world, congratulating myself on my cleverness and diplomacy. It was only later that I learned that Charlie had used the same qualities, because when he met me, he had not seen a single one of my films!

Mr. Chaplin is endowed with a charming personality. He has a boyish charm and enthusiasm, and a wonderful gift for conversation. We met at several parties and I had the pleasure of watching him take on the roles of several different people. He never really stops acting, never misses an opportunity to indulge in imitation or parody.

Our acquaintance in Berlin was quite casual and far from romantic. I admired Chaplin as a personality and artist, but I have to admit that at that time every American I met had an irresistible charm for me. The reason for this was, above all, their respectful attitude towards women, so different from that of Europeans. American gentlemen treat every woman as a queen. How could I not like them?" (x)

This is a fragment of the text from the Polish book "Pola Negri - in their own words". The author of the book is Mariusz Kotowski - a researcher of Pola Negri's life and work. In this fragment, the author of the book tells the story of how Pola met Charlie Chaplin.

Unfortunately, I am not able to translate the entire article. This book was published in 2014.

[breitzbachbea]

Now that you mentioned it I am very intrigued by your human Hetalia au, go on

Thank you very much anon!

So. Basic concept: A world very much the same as ours, but acting mostly hidden from the public eye, are national crime syndicates in every country. Pretty much all are spearheaded by the boss of one noteable family that ensured that position some generations ago (those bosses are the Hetalia nations, ordinary Humans here) and two right hands. The AU is called Like Father Like Son.

Now, these syndicates are very much globally connected and when it comes to each other, act less than actual organized crime organisations in real life and more like monarchies or other types of state conducting diplomacy. Also, as is very unlikely for real life and much more common for royality, the bosses have usually inherited the business and had no option to opt out/felt it was the right thing to do. This is nuanced along the way, but again, stark difference to the volatile infighting and general hierarchies from real life organized crime (where the successor is probably NOT the 17 year old son, but a trusted right hand).

But they are, at the end of the day, gangsters. They fight for their own survival and supreme status within the other criminals in their own country and amongst their peers. (Alexa, play 741 Millionen by Tüsn). They don't represent states or governments or even people. They're in it because power is nice and the sunk-cost fallacy is too great to get out.

But because I am a history nerd, they still reflect certain phases and struggles and ideas about nationhood, like their Hetalia counterparts actually would. And here is where it gets interesting.

The protagonists of the AUs mainseries, called also called Like Father Like Son with the subtitle Sangue cattivo non mente on ao3, are the Irish and the Sicilians. So it's my Hetalia OCs (though I borrowed the Sicilian from a friend) Harry O'Connel and Michele Vento, plus Harry's younger sister Sophie O'Connel, and the Human-from-the-start right hands Paddy O'Neill, Charlie Higgins and Marco & Lorenzo Bontade.

And if you're looking for an Irish villain, where do you look to? England. Always the Brits. 'May the enemies of Ireland never meet a friend'. Which is why Arthur Kirkland, along with his right hands Robert Bailey and Tahir Rashid, serves as antagonist to the Irish in many stories. And of course, this makes it easy to present the fight as underdogs vs powerful evil empire, along the line of actual historical conflict. (I am oversimplifying, but we aren't here to argue details right now and in broad strokes, it IS right). If the reader has an inkling of Irish or British history, they will see the parallels. I, as the author, work it into metaphors by the narrative entity (usually occupying one character's POV, tho not to be confused with the character being the narrator). I work it into the general themes, with characters talking about history or historical/cultural backdrops. And of course, by that the characters themselves draw the parallels and pull on old stereotypes to rage against their enemies. Arthur likes to pull out the old stereotypes of the Irish being a belligerent, backward and unreasonable race when he paints Harry as a troublemaker. Harry will paint Arthur a tyrant who can't stand to see another man free when he feels entitled to his property and life. It's so enticing to believe that you know where to stand, to know where's right on the merits of history and the real world alone.

But as soon as you take a step back, you realize how they merely use something bigger and greater than themselves to fight their petty wars. Paddy and Charlie rail against the English after they've kidnapped Harry, they say Arthur thinks the world should grovel before him because it's his righ as an Englishman. But they're never alluding to anything bigger than themselves; yes, Irish are being kicked down, but it's just them. And sure, they may say an Irishman doesn't give up and that's what the English shall see, but it's the rhetoric of revolution without its goals. There's no British threat to Ireland - no fight they can align themselves with, because Arthur certainly isn't aligned with any either. Truly, if they were so committed to it, they would look with more sympathy to Tahir, whose parents came from Pakistan in the 1970s. They'd appeal to him, see the parallels of history with Ireland and the British Colony of India. But while the English tyranny rhetoric is usually reserved for white Arthur and Robert, at the end of the day, Tahir's also an 'English pedant' and haughty prick to them. And Tahir, similiarly, doesn't have much sympathy for the Irish, seeing them as annoying obstacles to their business dealings. He's in this to give his family a better life, he knows there is nothing grand about their enterprise. They all know that. In quiet moments, amongst themselves, they even express it. The farce they play; that the ideals they want to hold they betray; that they are a cancer on the people and country they love.

And I just. I love that. I love how it still has the themes one can ask in more substantial explorations of Hetalia - the constraints of free will, bearing the sins and burdens of the past, how much you can be an individual and how much you are a role. I love how it makes them true individuals, in the end, how it employs history as something that is interpreted from the witnesses we have to the past and told through our own eyes. How it seemingly creates this parallel to real history, but when one steps back, it shows that it's play pretend and it makes the reader sympathize while also keep its distance at times, enjoying a story that is fundamentally about a lot of people making the wrong decisions and living with the consequences. It's a tragedy, a meta-level of mourning - with none of that hope for a future that any reading of history can have.

Thank you for coming to my Ted-talk. I am currently rewriting the main series, because what is up on AO3 was written by a fourteen to sixteen year old and therefore, isn't very good. However, you can still check out my other writing (and the not very good mainseries) here. I also like to make lots and lots of AUs with the many Human characters and the Hetalia characters where they're not burdened by being organized criminals. You can find my ramblings about many of these AUs on my sideblog @i-centri-degli-universi . You will also find a few written works for some AUs on the ao3 already linked.

Thank you for your attention. I hope you have a grand day, anon, as well as everyone who read through this.

[hellsdisneyprincess]

Crown Princess of Hell Charlie Morningstar Unholy Crusade Verse Stat Sheet

Image source

Stats

AC: 16

Strength: 12*

Dexterity: 17

Constitution: 10

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 16

Charisma: 14

*If she had more time, she could reach her full potential. Also, compared to a lot of the other involved characters, she is fairly low in power level

Skills:

Partial Demonic form (arms, tail, horns)

Magic light bolts: blinding/disorienting opponents, burning/explosive power

Glitter dash

Healing by singing/playing violin

Weaknesses:

Lack of confidence

Lack of experience

Preference for diplomacy over fighting

Inability to use glitter dash and attack at the same time. Attempting to attack and use her dash to dodge in the same turn via an action surge, the second action will be rolled at disadvantage (roll twice and take the lower of the two numbers)

Items:

Shield (summonable)

Trident (summonable)

Violin (summonable)

Dreamsphere - can contact Lucid

Adam's Feather - can summon Adam (one-time use only)

Emily's Feather - can summon Emily (one-time use only)

Lucifer's Feather (2x) - can summon Lucifer (one-time use only)

Affiliation:

Heaven I Hell I None

((I may add to this if anything else comes up, but this is how I see it for now))

[originemesis]

@chasingrainbcws xxx

...This misogynistic, arrogant, obnoxious piece of... !

❝ I told you already, I am not signing off on that proposal ! It's a bunch of nonsense that's either totally perverted or genocidal, and only serves you. So unless you're willing to discuss the changes I suggested, it looks like you're gonna miss your reservation. ❞ Fuck, it takes every ounce of self control she has to use the word reservation, instead of booty-call. Don't stoop to his level, Charlie. Despite insisting that she had work to do, she wasn't budging on this matter; she'd sit here all night if she had to, until they came to an agreement... which, in truth, she didn't see as a feasible outcome. He was too selfish, too stubborn, and too... Adam.

He's starting to suspect her father sent her just to fuck with him given how unbudgingly Karen she's being about a little tender loving genocide spread evenly across all rings of hell vs the dead horse of pride he keeps beating. Well! Two could play that game. Only he'd be the one winning.

"So what you're saying is-" He remarks with a bored flick of the wrist, his gaze settling on the ever tidy ends of buffed talons like he was considering the sharpness needed to pierce and pin her arm into the signing position. "you didn't read shit. Interesting strategy, not gonna lie ~ but! That's not going to cut it in the diplomacy department. Maybe you should let 'daddy dearest' take back over these visits if you're going to be a little bitch about it." Welp- they're definitely sharp enough, but like hell he's getting her gross demon blood on his robe and scuffing his mani.

Garish gaze flicking back over to find her seething exasperation, he spares her a calculating smirk, neck cracking beneath its company of golden spikes. If she doesn't like to actually read his doodle filled proposals, this might just work in his favor. "Riiiight- changes. The ones that were so unimpactful that I crossed them out. Yikes- am I right?" Palms flatten and follow his shrug over the shoulder line before he leans back into his seat- or rather the portal he forms in his chair to appear behind her in the blink of an eye, looming around the back of her chair, talons drumming impatiently along the table's edge.

"Why don't we discuss them...?" A snap and a portal beneath them later, their discussion table has silverware and wine glasses. The embassy is now an open balcony and a single candle lit table with the only semblance of company being the muffled laughs and conversations happening below the private seating area. "-over dinner? Believe me, babe ~ I'm a lot more 'agreeable' fed." A dig to hell never providing meeting snacks? Perhaps. Either way, better for her to think that men are controlled more with their stomachs than their dicks.

Plopping into his new seat across from her with a lazy arm hooked over the back of his chair, he beckons the shuffled documents up into the air and flicks through them one by one with the unenthusiastic energy of a swiping-left-athon. Whether he's actually reading them instead of the menu that got swept up with the rest of the paperwork is anyone's guess.

[the-untitledverse-blog]

The UnTitledverse Fam during The Perfect Storm saga

Here's my Found Family of The UnTitledverse during The Perfect Storm saga.

We've got Joaquin Cobalt (age 15, height either 5ft 4inch or 5ft 5inch, transitioning male and accidental reincarnation) - Should never drive - Stubborn and short-tempered enough to get into trouble but skilled and competent enough to get himself and others out of trouble - Holds no love for bugs. Additional info: If Calvin isn't in charge, then Joaquin is - Has been traveling the multiverse for five years trying to survive not really updated on movies or places to eat and all that - Puts up a strong facade to be taken seriously - Though doesn't see the point in competition - Has yet to learn diplomacy - Mario's protege in the theatrics and showmanship.

Maisie Lockwood (age 14, height around 5ft 2inch, female and a human clone) - Shortest of the group and youngest of the group - Can't drive - Finds trouble somehow - Usually good at getting out of trouble but now she's dealing with robots and demons and whatnot so she kind of needs a little help - Loves bugs and refuses to help move them. Additional info: BABY! - Absolutely not mature enough to be a leader - Owen and Claire had her catch up on the best movies (especially A Land Before Time) - Quite affectionate when she wants to be - Loves to play fight, especially with Mario due to his shapeshifting abilities, also goes out of her way to scare the shit out of Joaquin, Calvin and Charlie sometimes.

Calvin Dearing (age technically 136 though looks like a stressed-out 36-year-old, height 5ft 6inch, male and a dream spirit) - Oldest of the group - Can drive but due to the sightings of a "driverless" vehicle, refrains from doing so unless under specific circumstances - Surprisingly the only who never gets into trouble and the one most often getting them out of trouble - Bugs remind him of the creepy critters he had to deal with down in the Purgatory disguised as Carmine Studio, so its on site for him. Additional info: The most mature and experienced one to be leader - Out of touch for films but knows the best restaurants - The least affectionate and competitive person - More the grandfather of the group but parent works too - A Dream Spirit is not suitable to be a host for anything.

Mario Emmet (age 39, somehow taller than Charlie at 6ft 3inch (5ft 11 inch in human form), male and a shapeshifting alien) - Can surprisingly drive well but may stray from responsibility sometimes - Tallest - Gets into a lot of trouble - Bugs remind him of himself so he doesn't harm them. Additional info: Not the baby and knows it but wishes he were - Would have them all eat in a sewer if he could - The most affectionate and touch starved boy - The most competitive out of the group - Play fights for days, Charlie being his most common partner but Maisie being his favorite playmate - Knows how to entertain guests so is designated host.

Charlie Emily (Technically 40 years old only looks to be in her early 20s, 5ft and 4inch, female and an android with a little bit of soul) - Knows how to drive responsibly - miffed that she's older than her alien boyfriend but he's a shapeshifter and is always taller than her - gets into trouble with Mario - Shows no mercy to bugs. Additional info: Tried leading for a day... almost got everyone killed - The one who knows the best things to watch and best places to eat - One of the most competitive people alongside Mario - Parent friend to Maisie and Joaquin - Does play fight with Mario but overall isn't outright seeking to do so everyday - Too shy and inexperienced in intimacy/affection or social events so Mario often takes initiative.

The Group: Mario views all of them as his family after losing his mother, while most of the others view each other as friends at best, though some like Joaquin and Maisie go "ah, that's Mario's girlfriend/Joaquin's brother figures". Mario and Charlie are the most likely to talk about their interests or whatever they can think of, while Joaquin and Maisie sit at the middle between "talking sometimes" and "listening in" while Calvin is all for just listening. Calvin is the only one alone who goes "we have food at home" while the others just vary in enthusiasm over seeing McDonalds. Mario is the most expressive and emotional while Calvin is the most stoic and calm, the others just sit in the middle. Calvin and Joaquin (+ Charlie sometimes) are the most likely to need alone time while Maisie and Mario need attention. Calvin's sarcasm leaves no one alive, and Mario relentlessly teases anyone he can find, though while Joaquin and Maisie get just a healthy amount that doesn't put them down, Mario shows Charlie no mercy with the height difference between himself and her despite the fact he's younger than her. Most of them are in the middle for showing affection through words and actions but Charlie and Joaquin usually show it through the latter. Mario and Maisie are designated goofballs, while Calvin and Joaquin are their designated goofball wranglers... Charlie's a wild card in this department though.

Faceclaims for Joaquin and Calvin are Brendan Jordan and Laurence Fishburne respectively. Maisie Lockwood still looks like her actress Isabella Sermon. Yet to find a faceclaim for Charlie Emily or Mario's human form but have some facial expressions he's made below (warning none of these doodles are colored):

Here's a close up of Mario's profile image

And here's Mario being trying to be charming and being judgemental respectively

And here's the template for the "Found Family explained in 5 minutes" thing

[gaffney]

Do you think Jesse would have been captain in TMD3 if he had been there?

no tbh. mostly because d3 is charlie’s story to tell and - if jesse had been there without any changes to the script - i honestly doubt he would’ve gotten a satisfying arc, considering the rest of the ducks didn’t either. they were kinda just there as pretty accessories 😭 which is where i think the movie missed its mark. i think the conflict between charlie and orion would’ve been more interesting if the rest of the ducks had gotten more involved. more than than a 30-second locker room argument anyway. 

ALSO. while i think jesse’s a natural born leader, i don’t necessarily think he’s captain material (vs charlie, who i think is a great captain, but that doesn’t necessarily make a good leader). jesse doesn’t have the diplomacy that charlie does - he’s a bit hot tempered and got no time to play nice with refs, and doesn’t really seem interested in thinking of strategy plays & solutions like charlie did (mostly in d2). he's there to play and have a good ass time. i do think that if jesse had been there, it would've been a great storyline if orion had given jesse the C (who doesn't want it and kinda scoffs at the role/takes it for granted) to kind of make a statement to charlie (who wants it so bad he has an unnatural attachment to it). the betrayal! the drama! but in the end, friendship triumphs! etc etc.

[printerhater]

third fucking attempt to post this. i gotta remember i cant hit ctrl+z while making posts on tumblr apparently

this is charlie simpson (any prns) and her brother, ross millens (he/him) :)

now that i have your attention with the awesome siblings let me put the rest of this post under a read more for length

i don't feel like fully explaining all the lore of the world right now but. long story short, the setting of this story is a digital afterlife where people are uploaded after death.

charlie was the first person to be uploaded, on the cusp of preteenhood. as such, she was made the goddess, figurehead, and representative of afterlife. problem is, she was uploaded during the afterlife's alpha stage, which it remained in for a long time. she was totally alone, so the creators of the program coded an ai to keep her company. the ai's name was ross millens! i still haven't figured out how aging works in this universe yet but charlie has existed longer and ross is older. capeesh? anyways they grew very close during the months/years it was just the two of them, and they adopted each other as siblings and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

charlie likes soft noise/music, space, chameleons, music boxes, and albert camus. their hobbies include architecture, stargazing, fishing, sleeping, and making weird video diaries that no one else is allowed to see. they're a very solemn soul, contemplative and calm. despite that, they still find the importance in frequent laughter and joy. they understand and accept the darkness of the world, but they'd rather focus on being a light for others. they're selfless and driven--but often struggle with diplomacy. they like having fun with other people, not stuffy negotiations and arguments. so they usually let ross handle all of that. speaking of...

ross likes cars (and collecting them), rap + jazz music, good food, and good booze. his hobbies include snowboarding, socializing, coding, and going on long drives. ross is simultaneously incredibly charismatic/charming, and also the biggest asshole you've ever met. he's an asshole in a crafty way--he effectively uses charlie as a puppet, using her abilities and status as goddess to act out his will. but she doesn't mind, because he's her big brother, and he would never hurt her.

he's the opposite of charlie in a lot of ways--he prefers logic instead of emotion, math instead of art, rage instead of sorrow. charlie usually fumbles her way through conversations, not quite being able to understand other people, their thoughts/feelings, or their intentions. meanwhile, ross is incredibly adept at reading social situations, and knows just the right things to say to get his way. he's not all bad, though--a lot of his best qualities come out in his treatment towards charlie (minus the whole using her for her power thing). when they were younger, he would wake her up every morning by playing the guitar for her. he always makes sure she's well fed, and will never get angry at her. he's expertly navigated her through all of her crises, and will always extend a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on to her.

ok thats enough for now bc i need to go eat dinner. if you guys have any questions or thoughts abt them my ask box/replies are open <:3c

[hazbin-shenanigans]

His arms are hilariously coated in bandages, and linen replaces the satin gloves he wore earlier. Charlie had sent him here to the deer’s room—her idea, he assumes, of trying to once more force diplomacy between them. So the King has come on request. Per the…tacky taste in decor, Lucifer certainly doesn’t expect what he sees on Alastor’s desk.

“What’s…what’s that on your desk?” he blinks.

Well, fuck.

First of all, he wasn't even expecting Lucifer of all people to barge into his room. On the desk next to the radio that's play some soft jazz is the red antlered duck. He gets up from the armchair he was reading in and steps in front of it.

"Oh, it's nothing. Also not to sound rude, but did no one teach you to knock before entering a room?"

[byneddiedingo]

Niels Arestrup and André Dussollier in Diplomacy (Volker Schlöndorff, 2014)

Cast: André Dussollier, Niels Arestrup, Burghart Klaußner, Robert Stadlober, Charlie Nelson, Jean-Marc Roulot, Stefan Wilkening, Thomas Arnold. Screenplay: Cyril Gely, Volker Schlöndorff, based on a play by Gely. Cinematography: Michel Amathieu. Production design: Jacques Rouxel. Film editing: Virginie Bruant. Music: Jörg Lemberg. 

The enormity of some crimes against humanity so swamps the imagination that it's often more effective to try to comprehend their analogs: crimes against art. The Taliban received perhaps as much international condemnation for its destruction of the Buddhist statues of Bamiyan as for any of its murderous repression of human beings. And Hitler's threat to destroy the city of Paris rather than let it fall into the hands of the liberating Allies stands as a kind of symbol of the deep-rooted evil that manifested itself in the Holocaust. It inspired the 1966 film Is Paris Burning? (René Clement), which had an all-star international cast, but Volker Schlöndorff's Diplomacy tells the same story more compactly and effectively. It also does it without relying on star-power: Few Americans will be familiar with the work of the two French actors, André Dussollier and Niels Arestrup, who face off in the film. Arestrup plays General von Choltitz, the commander of German troops in Paris who was tasked with carrying out Hitler's orders to obliterate such monuments as Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the Eiffel Tower, and to blow up the bridges on the Seine, damming the river and flooding the crowded low-lying areas of the city. The film opens with Choltitz and his officers reviewing the plans for the city's destruction in his suite at the Hotel Meurice. After the officers leave, there is a blackout caused by the shelling of the power plants by the approaching Allies, and when the lights come up again, Choltitz discovers that he is not alone: The Swedish diplomat Raoul Nordling (Dussollier) has somehow appeared in his room. Nordling, it turns out, has used a secret passage into the hotel that was built for Napoleon III to make clandestine visits to his mistress. He has also witnessed the plans for the obliteration of a city he loves, and has come to persuade Choltitz to defy the Führer. The touch of melodrama in this "theatrical" entrance betrays Diplomacy's origins in a play by Cyril Gely, who collaborated with Schlöndorff on the screenplay. What ensues is a dialogue-heavy debate, somewhat "opened up" with scenes of German soldiers preparing the explosives and battling with the French resistance. We know Paris survives, but Schlöndorff and his two lead actors manage to create suspense through the give-and-take of their debate, during which we learn that Choltitz's family is under threat of death if he refuses Hitler's orders. Diplomacy suffers only a little from its touches of staginess, thanks to intelligent dialogue and performances.

[whatsortofschoolisthis]

Merula: One day I'm going to say "fight me" to the wrong person and someone is just going to deck me.

Talbott: Oh, trust me, that day may be closer than you think.

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Sean: If murdered, I want a closed-casket funeral. However, towards the end of the service, please have the organist play "Pop Goes the Weasel" over and over until everyone in attendance is staring at my coffin with mute, horrified anticipation.

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Bryn: we're about to die! do you really want your last words to be sarcasm?!

Rowan, sarcastically: no of course not! I wanted them to be words of joy at our eminent demise

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Tonks/Jae  *accidentally does something well*: ah shit I’ve given them standards now.

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Jae: The secret to life is to always use more spinach and less rice than you think you'll need.

Penny: The second secret to life is that fresh air, warm sun, and a cup of tea will make your problems small enough to start handling.

Hecate: The third secret to life is that violence sometimes really is the answer.

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Ismelda: And that's why I don't have a boyfriend.

Barnaby: You know, I think there's a lot of reasons why you don't have a boyfriend.

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R: Be careful, there is a fine line between surveillance and stalking.

Professor Rakepick: Yeah, getting caught, which I don't plan on.

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Professor Sprout: Do you have any tips on how to get rid of ants?

Hagrid: I'm assuming diplomacy has failed.

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Sean, after surviving every vault adventure: The universe does not want me or my family dead. It does not want us happy but it does not want us dead.

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Rubin: Okay, now, to review, if a stranger came up to you and said "I'm your mom's friend, she told me to pick you up" what would you say?

Kit: I would say "You are lying, my mom doesn’t have any friends!"

Rubin:...

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Merula: Everyone has called me 'Boris' all day. I think Hecate paid them to

[Later]

Hecate: Absolutely. Five galleons each, and it was totally worth it.

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Liz: Remember, bird-watching goes both ways.

Felix: That's vaguely threatening, thank you.

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Chiara: You remind me of a Russian doll.

Victor: Aw, thank yo—

Chiara: Full of yourself.

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Madame McGonagall: Severus, do you hate children?

Snape: What? No, no, I don't hate children! I can't hate children! Children are excellent! Raising rugrats is my raison d'etre!

Professor Flitwick: How do you feel about friskergibblins?

Snape: What the hell is a friskergibblin?

Professor Flitwick: A friskergibblin is a creature that looks, sounds, and acts exactly like a human child, but is not a sapient creature and does not possess the rights and protections of personhood.

Snape: Oh. Throw every single friskergibblin into the sun at your earliest convenience, please.

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Charlie at the Hogsmede Festival: Are you having fun?

Ben: No. I’m having dark, disturbing thoughts that I don’t like to talk about.

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Cecil Lee after having his werewolf investigation interfered with: What is your problem?

Sean, interfering to protect Chiara: Would you like that list to be in alphabetical order, or based off the severity of them?

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Tonks: Kit, are you sure you don't wanna use my graduation speech? It goes like this: Later, losers.

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Pitts, annoyed: Hey. Let’s play a game. It’s called “See who can be quiet the longest”.

Kit:, in detention Cool! Rubin loves that game!

[just-another-hhazbin]

What about an AU where Charlie was taken to heaven shortly after being born because she made Lucifer and Lilith's hell a bit better? They're supposed to be in hell as a punishment, the angels taking Charlie away would probably remind them of that.

Dearest Anon, you have just smacked me in the face with fifty million different ideas. 

A Charlie that was taken away as a baby, too young to remember her parents. Raised in Heaven from birth, never quite fitting in and always wondering what made her different, what was wrong with her. Why she’d gain horns when others would flare her wings, why she could play with fire like a long lost friend while the others flinched away and told her to never use it. And Lilith and Lucifer stuck in Hell, unable to reach their daughter, withdrawing from everyone as they mourn and rage and plot. Or maybe becoming even more invested in Hell, trying to rouse up rebellion 2.0

I imagine Lucifer and Lilith would be much the same if a slightly older Charlie was taken, one that remembers her parents and her people that she loves. And at first, she thinks, maybe this is a good thing! Maybe she can convince Heaven to help the Sinners redeem themselves instead of exterminations! Maybe they can all get along! But reality is never as kind as dreams, and the more she sees of Heaven, the more disillusioned she becomes. She’s just a little kid, easily manipulated. But she’s also her father’s daughter, and there are two things that can always be counted on when it comes to Lucifer’s bloodline: rebellion, and the strength of their love.

And then another, slightly different idea...

Heaven isn’t happy about the Hotel or the idea about it. Sinners aren’t to be redeemed, they’re to be exterminated. So when the next extermination comes, they take Charlie away, despite the fight put up by the hotel residents. And at first, all right, kinda terrifying, but hey, maybe this is good? Maybe she can make this into a diplomacy mission? I mean, she’s in Heaven now. It’s everything she’s ever wanted... isn’t it? But she misses the red skies of home, and the people here aren’t what she expected, aren’t what she had hoped. She’d wanted her people to have a better afterlife. But now she’s trapped far away from them in a land more and less like home than she’d realized, and she’ll do anything to get back. Meanwhile, Lucifer and Lilith have to come to terms that they’ve lost their daughter in more than one way, and the Hazbins aren’t intending on letting anyone take away one of their own, not even Heaven itself.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey hey hey, Cinderella AU time again at last! Sorry to have left y’all on a cliffhanger last time, so I think it’d be kindest if we just jump right in!

Previous part is here -- full tag is here -- Katriona Cassiopeia “KC” (pictured above with McNully in a dress based on this design 💙) belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!!

x~x~x~x

There was a very tense silence. 

Then Erika abruptly barreled over to Orion, seizing him roughly by the collar. 

“I knew I smelled a rat, when you first waltzed in here -- ” she snarled.

“Get the hell off of him!”

BAM.

Skye had hurled a punch right at Erika’s jaw. The violent move made Erika take a step back, but she didn’t release Orion -- instead, holding onto his collar with one hand, she proceeded to try to grab Skye. Soon the two were in a full on tustle, with Skye trying and failing to get Erika to let go of Orion. 

“Skye -- ” choked Orion in a very hushed, strained voice. “Lady Rath, please -- !”

“Erika, stop,” said KC sharply. She grabbed Erika’s arm and held it back. “This is no rational way to deal with this -- ”

But Erika seemed unmoved. “This man’s a Florentine royal who disguised himself as a Royaumanian peasant to get close to our Prince. There’s nothing to waffle over.”

Her eyes shot over to Carewyn harshly. “If anything, I’d say you should make sure she doesn’t run off too, for aiding and abetting him.”

Carewyn, who’d been too stunned to properly respond, straightened up abruptly. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent, Cromwell,” said Erika very coldly. “Looking up troop movements in your spare time? Meeting every other day with a Florentine spy? Lying to Prince Henri about where you were going before dashing off to the Florentine border? It’s pretty clear you were in on it all along.”

“No!”

Orion for the first time wrenched sharply in Erika’s grip. His face was unusually pale, his black eyes very wide and anxious. 

“She didn’t know,” said the Prince of Florence insistently. “She never knew -- it was solely my doing, all of it...”

“Just what a spy would say, to protect his co-conspirator,” Erika cut him off. 

Bill and Charlie, however, both swooped down around Carewyn, flanking her like bodyguards. 

“Carey is NOT his co-conspirator!” said Charlie, his arms wrapped around her neck in a protective side-hug. 

“And she wasn’t dashing off to the border,” said Bill, his voice much firmer and lower than Charlie’s, but no less righteously angry. “She was going to see her brother at the war front.”

Andre and KC both looked startled. 

“Brother...?” whispered Andre. 

He looked at Carewyn, but she avoided his eyes. 

“Carey’s older brother is a soldier in the Royaumanian army,” said Bill. “She hasn’t seen him since her grandfather sent him out nine years ago.”

KC looked from Bill to Carewyn, her eyebrows knitting together. “He’s a soldier? But...I’ve never seen the name ‘Cromwell’ on any of my records...”

“That’s why she decided to go!” said Charlie. “She couldn’t find Jacob in your records either...so it’s likely old Charles Cromwell made him enlist under another name or something.”

“Or he just died ages ago,” Erika said bluntly. 

Carewyn’s blue eyes abruptly flared. “No! My brother is out there somewhere!”

She turned to Andre, her eyes more imploring. 

“Andre...I’m sorry for having lied to you -- but I couldn’t afford to let Iris or anyone else in my family know I’m trying to make contact with Jacob, without Grandfather’s approval. And even if my brother’s alive...”

She glanced at Orion. Her blue eyes were welled up with pain, and she had to tear her gaze away, unable to show that much emotion openly. 

“...the War is getting worse. I don’t know what state my brother is in out there now, if the War is as bad as I’ve heard -- I can’t let Jacob suffer out there, not if I can do something to help him!”

“So you thought of sneaking into the Royaumanian army camp completely on your own without even having any means to protect yourself?” said KC, her gaze rather critical as she crossed her arms. “Carewyn, that was not smart.”

Andre too didn’t look happy. “You could’ve told me, Carewyn. I considered you my friend -- I trusted you. There was no reason for you to lie to me.”

Carewyn’s face grew a lot more stoic as she turned her face away, trying to hide the tumultuous emotions in her eyes. Bill, however, strode forward, stepping right between Andre and Carewyn. 

“I know it wasn’t right for Carey to lie, Andre,” Bill said, “but truly, do you think you would’ve been all right, knowing she was running off toward the battlefield?”

“No,” said Andre, “but I would’ve been happy to help!”

“So were we, and that’s exactly why she didn’t tell you,” Bill barked back. “Because she knew how dangerous it’d be out there for herself, and she didn’t want to put any of us in that danger too, especially you. Carey doesn’t ask for help -- she never has. She’s always done things herself, rather than trouble anyone else. She tried to convince Charlie and me to head back several times, when we caught up with her. She gave herself up to those bandits because she couldn’t bear the thought of us never being able to go home to our family again, just because we followed her.”

The eldest Weasley glanced at Orion still in Erika’s grip, his brown eyes narrowing. 

“I may not know what this man’s intentions were, manipulating Carey so that he could get at the royal family,” he said lowly, “but he’s telling the truth. Carey didn’t know he was a Florentine, let alone that he was their Prince.”

“He was telling the truth about a lot more than just that.”

McNully had climbed out of the coach and down into his wheelchair attached to the boot. Gripping the sides of his chair and giving them a sharp twist, he catapulted it off the boot and down to the ground so he could roll over to Orion’s side, facing Andre with a very solemn expression. 

“Your Highness, Orion told the bandits, ‘We do not come seeking trouble’ -- and it’s just as true in this instance. As much as Orion had to keep certain things under wraps, I know him well enough to know he didn’t lie so much as omit key details, and let you all fill in the blanks yourselves. I daresay a good 95% of everything he’s told you and Carewyn is true, if not more.”

Erika snorted. “Doubtful. I’ve never heard of an honest Florentine.”

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty, you -- !” started Skye. 

“Skye, please,” Orion whispered. 

His hands were still clasped in front of him and his voice was still brushed with anxiety, even as he took several deep breaths to try to calm his heart rate. 

“...Prince Henri, the reason I came today was to seek an audience with you,” he said seriously. “I fully intended to go to the castle gates and request a diplomatic meeting, before I saw you with KC and Lady Rath. My deception was only ever a means to that end -- diplomacy and peace. There was no malevolence meant.”

“If you’d wanted to discuss peace, you could have done it honestly,” said Andre, his arms crossed.

“He could have tried, but would you have listened?”

Everyone turned to look at Carewyn. Her voice was low and she couldn’t make eye contact with anyone -- her gaze instead floated just over Andre’s shoulder -- but she sounded firmer than before, more like her usual self. 

“If he had approached the King under his true name, can you really say that your father would’ve accepted an audience with him?” she challenged Andre. “Naturally your father would’ve never allowed you to speak to him -- but would he even have spoken to Prince Cosimo VII? Would any of us have?”

Something uncomfortable flickered through Andre’s expression, robbing it of some of its righteous anger. 

Carewyn broke away from Charlie and Bill, striding right up to stand between Andre and Orion in rather the same protective way Bill had for her. 

“If Orion had come under his real name, we would’ve never danced with him at the Winter Festival,” she said. “Bill and Charlie’s family would’ve never invited him to stay for dinner. KC would’ve never told him that Charlie and I had been gone longer than expected. Badeea would’ve never invited him to sit with us by the bank while she painted. I...never would’ve accepted his help...nor would I likely have helped him.”

Was that shame, in her face? It was hard to say, for it was a shadow that disappeared very quickly. 

“I’m sure we’ve all been judged by what our names are and what families we were born into, but you especially should know full well what that’s like,” said Carewyn, her voice suddenly full of fiery conviction, “considering that from the moment we first met, you actively tried to discourage me from calling you by your real name!”

Andre flinched.

“Carewyn...” he murmured, taken aback by her passion, but Carewyn cut him off. 

“Orion met me last night to tell me that his father was a high-ranking officer who planned to attack the enemy forces with a strategy that could destroy many lives. That’s why I’m here now. I thought his father was in the Royaumanian army, but now it’s clear that he meant to warn us that his own army -- the Florentine army -- means to attack us. Yet Orion came to warn me anyway -- and beyond that, he said how much he disapproved of the strategy and wanted peace.”

Andre’s eyes narrowed upon her face. “Carewyn, he lied to you about who he was. How can you believe anything else he told you might be true?”

“Because good people can still make mistakes!” Carewyn shot back. 

Her voice betrayed a flare-up of emotion, and it made her go very quiet. Then after a moment, she took a deep breath. 

“People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers -- 

People make mistakes,

Holding to their own -- thinking they’re alone.

Honor the mistakes everybody makes, one another’s terrible mistakes...

They could still be right -- they could still be good.

You decide what’s right -- you decide what’s good --

Just remember...

Someone is on your side -- someone else is not.

While we’re seeing our side, maybe we forgot

They are not alone...no one is alone...”

The familiar words seemed to make all of the anger in the air ebb away. Skye looked from McNully to Orion, stunned. Erika, although her face remained as distrustful and hard as ever, felt her grip on Orion’s collar slacking. Orion himself, however, could do nothing but stare at Carewyn over Erika’s arm, his black eyes storms of emotion. 

Andre closed his eyes, his expression becoming more troubled. 

“Andre,” Carewyn said more softly, “I told Orion that if he believed peace between Florence and Royaume was possible that he should talk to you about it. Clearly he took that advice...even while knowing how badly you’d probably react. Even without bringing any soldiers to protect him. And he put himself on the line by coming out here with you to help me. Is that truly the mark of an evil man?”

Andre slowly opened his eyes. His gaze swept from Carewyn up onto Orion behind her. Despite himself, the Prince of Florence couldn’t keep the pained, yet adoring emotions out of his midnight-black eyes as he stared at Carewyn -- like a man who truly had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

The Prince of Royaume’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. Then, finally, he sighed. 

“...Erika, put him down.”

Erika looked up at Andre, faintly surprised. After a moment, however, she did so, though her eyes stayed on Orion beadily. 

“I do not approve of your methods, Prince Cosimo,” said Andre, drawing himself up to full height, “but you came seeking an audience with me, to discuss diplomacy. I shall grant it, but on my terms. I intend to accompany Carewyn to the Royaumanian camp straightaway -- should you wish to speak with me on our journey up, so be it.”

Both Carewyn and Orion reacted with surprise, but for completely different reasons. 

“Andre, you don’t have to do that -- ” Carewyn started. 

“No,” said Orion firmly, trying to keep his voice level despite his urgency, “you and Carewyn must not go anywhere near the war front. It is no place for you, nor anyone -- ”

Andre held up a hand to stop both of them. 

“I’ve made up my mind. If my country’s army is threatened, then I’m obligated to intervene, as their Prince. And besides...”

His eyes landed on Carewyn, growing a bit softer. 

“...I’ll need to know where your brother is positioned, if I’m going to know which battalion to reassign to guard the palace.”

Carewyn straightened up sharply. Andre beamed. 

“Your family needn’t know that Jacob and his battalion were repositioned,” he said almost smugly, “nor that it was for any particular reason. If nothing else...I’m certain your brother would be beneficial to castle security, if he knows you’re working there.”

Carewyn stared at Andre, hardly able to comprehend what she was hearing. 

He wanted to bring Jacob home. He wanted to give them a place in the castle together -- he was willing to do it covertly, so that Charles wouldn’t try to punish either of them...

“Andre...”

Her heart suddenly felt overfull. She had to cover her face in both hands to try to hold in her emotions. It took her a solid minute before she’d forced back her tears enough to remove her hands from her face, and when she did, she immediately strode forward and threw her arms around Andre in a full hug. 

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, her voice very choked and soft. “Thank you.”

Andre’s eyes melted with warmth and fondness and he brought his arms around her in return, squeezing gently before holding her at arm’s length. 

“I hope your brother’s as good of a fashion template as you, Carewyn,” he said with a brighter smile. 

Carewyn couldn’t help but give a choked laugh. “I’m afraid Jacob’s a disaster when it comes to clothes, but...oh, you’ll love him, Andre, I know you will...”

Orion’s expression was still very tense when McNully reached out and took hold of his arm. 

“Orion, I get why you don’t want to go near the war front,” he said seriously, “and obviously you shouldn’t be going into their camp at all yourself...but this is your chance, to talk things over with Prince Henri. We have to get a peaceful road mapped out fast, if we want to convince your father not to use my strategy...”

“Your strategy?” repeated KC, her eyes narrowing critically. 

Everyone turned to McNully. 

“A war strategist strategizes, it’s part of the job description,” McNully said, unabashed. “Though for the record, I intended for it to simply help us capture an army’s worth of war prisoners, not kill everybody.”

“Unlike a certain army who keeps shifting their cannons every day so they can blow up everyone they can without even looking their opponents in the face,” said Skye rather coldly. 

KC crossed her arms. “The goal was to aim for your stores of ammunition, not your soldiers.”

McNully did a double take. 

“Wait -- so you’re the one who came up with that strategy?!” he said. He whirled on Orion, looking incredulous and almost angry. “You made friends with Royaume’s new military strategist and you didn’t tell me!?”

“It must have slipped my mind,” said Orion serenely, but his black eyes betrayed a glint of mischief. “Yes, I remember now...you were remarking about how whoever made that strategy for the Royaumanian army had to be a genius...”

Skye snorted in amusement. “‘Remark?’ He ranted about it to me long before telling you, Orion -- McNully was so mad that he was fumbling over his statistics...”

“I fumbled once,” McNully said irritably. “My statistics were therefore 99.9% accurate in that conversation.”

Amazingly, even despite all the tension that had been between them, Andre and the Weasleys found themselves snorting with laughter. Carewyn even had to bite her lip to hold in her own amusement. 

KC raised an eyebrow at McNully, her lips spreading into a smirk. “Well, I guess I can thank you for appreciating my ‘genius,’ at least, Mr....?”

“Murphy McNully,” said McNully at once. Even though he was smiling, though, there was some irritation in his face. “Just called ‘McNully.’ And the name of my opponent in military strategy would be...?”

“Lady Katriona Cassiopeia,” she answered with just as cool of a smile. “Just called ‘KC.’”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said McNully, but there was definitely a charge of competitive lightning that crackled between them as they stared each other down.

Andre, for his part, was actually smiling mischievously as he moved to remove his horse from the front of Orion’s black coach. “Well, KC, perhaps while we’re escorting Carewyn, you and Mr. -- rather, McNully can have a discussion of your own.”

Both McNully and KC looked taken aback. 

“What?” said KC.

“I would love to talk to Florence’s chief strategist about the in’s and out’s of military protocol, but...well, I just don’t know enough about it myself,” said Andre innocently, though his eyes and voice were much too sassy to be convincing. “So you can do so on my behalf. After all, you are much more versed in these things.”

When KC tried to argue, Andre cut her off with a simple “That’s an order,” and climbed back up on his horse.

“Come on, Carewyn -- let’s get your, Charlie’s and Bill’s horses and be off. We don’t have much time.”

“Wait.”

Everyone looked at Orion. His face was still very pale as he stared at Carewyn.

“If you’re determined to go out there,” he said at last, “then you’ll need some way to protect yourselves from harm.”

He freed one of his own black mares from the front of the coach and climbed on its back.

“Follow me -- Carewyn and I have a friend who I know can help us.”

Once Bill, Charlie, Erika, and Carewyn were all back on their horses again, Orion led the group out of the woods. Skye drove the coach with KC’s steed as well as her own black horse, for McNully would have to ride inside it, and KC (following Andre’s directions) rode with him. Inside the coach, McNully -- perhaps to try to bolster his own slightly hurt ego -- challenged KC to a game of chess to pass the time. Carewyn could hear them bantering over their match on their way up. 

“Well, well! Moving a pawn rather than your Queen -- that’s 99% unexpected.”

“What’s the other remaining 1%?”

“Margin of error.”

“Well, I assure you -- this was not an error.”

“I think I’ll take my chances anyway.”

Andre, meanwhile, rode on his own horse beside Orion a good ways ahead of the others to talk privately. Erika, Charlie, Bill, Carewyn, and Skye all watched them from a distance -- they couldn’t hear what the two Princes were saying, but their discussion appeared very serious. Andre’s posture was oddly stiff and guarded, and Orion’s looked oddly submissive and detached. 

Then, very abruptly, Andre actually started to laugh. The sound startled everyone, Erika most of all.

“What?” said Erika. “What’s so funny?”

Orion looked back at them with a small wry smile. “Merely shoes, my lady.”

“Shoes?” repeated Erika, bewildered.

“Don’t bother questioning it,” Skye sighed tiredly from her spot in the driver’s seat as Orion faced forward again and continued his conversation with Andre. “Orion never stays focused on one thing whenever he’s talking to somebody -- be glad he didn’t randomly start talking about swallows and the color green...”

“Those were brought up too, actually,” Andre said loudly over his shoulder.

He flashed Carewyn an amused look, and Carewyn couldn’t help but smile a bit in return. It really sounded like they were finding common ground...

As the Princes both turned away, though, Carewyn’s smile slid off her face.

Princes...yes. That’s what they both were. All this time she’d thought that Orion might be a magician, or that he might’ve been like her mother and been born into wealth but trying to distance himself from his family -- or even that he was a bit like her, in the way that he’d lived in poverty but now lived in a home that was wealthy. Never had she thought that, in truth, he was the Prince of her country’s mortal enemy...

She knew she should be frightened by this -- betrayed and hurt. But everything she’d said to Andre was true. Instead of feeling distrustful and resentful of Orion, all she could do was feel worse about herself. Orion had lied to her because he was a Prince -- a royal with the humility of a peasant and a wise and gentle heart who wanted nothing more than to bring peace to their countries...who was willing to put himself in harm’s way to do it, who befriended her and the people around her regardless of their ancestry and the War that dictated they should be enemies...

And Carewyn? She’d lied to him because she was nothing but a maidservant. Worse still, she was the penniless, lying, pretentious commoner ward of Charles Cromwell -- a pathetic child who’d sold her soul to her grandfather, stupidly thinking that he’d treat her and Jacob like family, only for him to rip her and Jacob apart and send Jacob off to a War where he would suffer day after day with no chance of reprieve. A prisoner...someone who was chained to Charles’s will for the rest of her life, as penance for her mistake.

When Orion’s lie was revealed, it only served to make Carewyn admire him more. When hers was...Carewyn knew that it would only serve to turn him away. 

“Carey?”

Carewyn looked up. Bill had come up alongside her, his brown eyes very soft with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured. 

Carewyn gave him a smile. “Yes...I’m all right.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze long, so she looked up toward the Princes again.

“...I just hope...they can come together. That’s all.”

Bill looked up at them too, frowning slightly. “Mm...”

Carewyn didn’t have the heart to tell Bill what she was thinking, especially not with Erika, Skye, Charlie, Andre, and Orion all within earshot. She knew he’d tell her that if Orion really cared about her, he’d forgive her for lying...but...

He shouldn’t want to forgive me, Carewyn thought. He shouldn’t be content with what I am. Not when he deserves so much more. 

The memory of the last time she saw Jacob, of him hugging her tightly rippled over her mind. 

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Jacob was the only person who Carewyn knew for a fact would always love her, no matter what she did. He’d always been flawed beyond reason, but she never ever had to doubt that. Jacob had helped raise her, and she in return had looked out for him just as much. They were each the one person who they could always depend on...and Carewyn knew Jacob would forgive anything she might have done, however horrible it was or how terrible and pathetic of a person she’d become...

Carewyn closed her eyes, trying to force back her tears. 

Jacob...I need you. I need you here so much.

Maybe she’d be strong enough to accept that she could never be what Orion needed, if she could at least be in her brother’s arms again...

Orion led the others to a beautiful, but perfectly empty valley, perfect for stargazing. Just about everyone was baffled and suspicious, especially when Orion started calling out for a Baroness. It was only when a woman with a pointed black hat with a familiar-looking golden eagle on her shoulder and a beautiful manor appeared seemingly out of nothing that they all understood. 

“Magic,” breathed Andre, his eyes very wide.

Carewyn, however, climbed off her horse and greeted McGonagall warmly. “Baroness -- it’s so good to see you again.”

She reached out a hand to stroke the golden eagle’s feathers, and the bird almost seemed to smile wryly. 

McGonagall actually seemed somewhat surprised by how fair her reaction was. “It’s good to see you as well...”

She held her arm aloft, letting the eagle take off back into the air and toward the manor, and glanced at Orion, her narrowed eyes clearly questioning. “I was not expecting to see either of you again so soon.”

Orion climbed off his own horse, looking very grave. 

“Baroness, I come to ask for your assistance. Carewyn and her companions plan to go into the Royaumanian camp, so as to locate Carewyn’s missing brother.”

“Into the camp?” repeated McGonagall, looking almost stricken. 

She turned to Carewyn. 

“That is far from wise -- the Florentine army has already started making moves to attack. You must stay far away from that place.”

“What?!” just about everyone said, horrified. Orion, the only one who didn’t cry out, had abruptly lost all the color in his face.  

“B-but the strategy can’t be ready to go already!” stammered McNully. “Putting the troops in their positions without anyone noticing would take at least two full nights -- attempting it without everyone being in their proper place decreases its effectiveness by a good 38%!”

“Effectively or not, they have started the attack all the same,” said McGonagall. She looked from Orion to Carewyn. “I cannot in good conscience let you go out there, in the midst of all those explosions -- ”

“But their strategy aims to wipe out the entire Royaumanian army!” said Andre. “I cannot stand by and let that happen!”

He immediately flicked his reins and prepared to charge off, but Erika abruptly blocked his path on her own horse. 

“You dying out there too would only make everything worse,” she told him sharply. 

“So I should just let all of my men die, in my stead?” Andre demanded. 

He tried to ride around her, but Erika blocked him again. 

“No, we just need to be smart about this,” Erika shot him down very firmly. “I understand you want to help, and I agree with you -- but if you died out there on the battlefield, that would escalate the fighting, not end it. Just look at what happened when we took out Florence’s first Prince. And didn’t you say you were open to talking about peace with Prince Cosimo? If you want to chuck that out the window, fine, but don’t do it without understanding that’s what you’re doing.”

Erika looked from Andre to Orion. Her face was as stony as ever, but not as mistrustful as before. Andre, still looking frustrated, nonetheless seemed to accept that she was right. 

“McNully,” said Erika, “it’s your strategy the Florentines are using. What do you say?”

Everybody turned to McNully. Florence’s chief strategist crossed his arms, leaning back on the seat of the coach thoughtfully. 

“The ‘noose’ I developed would have significant breaks, if it was attempted without the proper preparation,” he said slowly. “The plan was to prevent anyone from getting in or out, so that the Royaumanian army would be unable to get reinforcements or supplies. That would then become a siege that would force them to surrender. With holes in the Florentine lines, though, the Royaumanian army could slip out and, worse, maybe even break our army up into smaller pieces.”

“Therefore making your army even more vulnerable,” finished KC, her eyebrows furrowing. “The fractures would go into all-out war and probably lose all sense of cohesion, which would make it harder to gather the troops back together and stop the fighting...”

McNully nodded shakily. “Casualties and injuries would be high -- anywhere between 40-58%."

Skye’s face had gone as white as a sheet. “But -- but if we lose half our army...!”

She looked at Orion in alarm. Orion knew what she was thinking. King Cosimo had said that this most recent line of reinforcements was the last defense Florence had, unless he wanted to draft all citizens 18 and older, regardless of rank or health. 

“Such devastation on both sides would make peace near to impossible,” murmured Orion. His hands were clasped together very tightly in front of him as he turned back to McGonagall. “Baroness, please -- isn’t there any spell you could cast that might soothe the ire of our armies?”

The Baroness looked upon Orion with a solemn expression. “To cast any spell, I would have to leave my home to the mercy of the armies’ mines and cannon fire. I’m sorry...but I cannot do that.”

“Then I will.”

A tanned young man with a pointed nose, very sharp eyes, and a bandaged arm strode into the room. He glanced at Carewyn, and she gave a light start -- those eyes seemed...

The young man then looked at McGonagall. 

“I’ll craft and cast the proper shield around them, to protect them from the cannon fire,” he said firmly. “Then the Princes could run to their respective sides and convince the armies to stop fighting.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows furrowed. “Talbott, your concentration would be sorely tested in a war zone. One flicker in your concentration would require you to recast the spell all over again -- at which time it might be too late to do so.”

“It may already be too late for us to prevent those casualties at all,” said Talbott, undaunted. “We’ve watched the War go on for years -- I know protecting our home is important, but this protects our home and the country it occupies. And since you’re the only one who can keep the illusions up here for any decent length of time, I have to be the one to cast this spell.”

McGonagall and Talbott stared each other down for a moment. 

“You feel very strongly about this,” McGonagall said dryly.

Talbott glanced at Carewyn, his oddly eagle-like eyes flickering with a wry kind of humor as his hand rested on his bandaged arm. “...Well, I do have a debt to repay.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened in realization. Then her eyes softened. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

“Very well, then,” said McGonagall grimly. “Take your time crafting the shield, my young apprentice -- remember to be very specific in the terms set. All of a spell’s terms must be met, in order for it to work properly.”