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thepaxgroup · 3 years ago

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marius through the years

summary: a series of hc’s of marius von hagen as a toddler till he graduates high school (literally the most random hc’s, some of them are long, to satiate my brainrot ;;;)

characters: marius von hagen | lù jǐng hé , giann von hagen, austin von hagen, and his mother

warning(s): mentions of death and angst!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is more angsty than my artem one!! tread lightly ;v; also slight spoiler (maybe??) warning if you haven’t read marius’s twilight beauty sr card! but it isn’t a spoiler that affects the main story! also, if you say this posted earlier no you did not ;;;; lmao, i took it down for editing purposes! also, also, a couple anons asked why i’m not using quotation marks—i do! just not for these lmao. headcannons like these make me think they’re just in the past so idk my brain doesn’t want to put quotations for it ;;;; enjoy!

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧 (𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨'𝐬 - 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥):

✦ Marius von Hagen is the Biggest Littlest Shit™

✦ The “Terrible Twos” have nothing on a spawn of pure chaos. During his second birthday is when Giann swears that Marius’s chaos-gear began to work fulltime. One minute the toddler was bashful under the gaze of friends and family, being adorned with love and the next minute he was pushing cakes off tables and every time someone had noticed he would start pouting, blaming another child dutifully. Usually Giann. It was towards the end of the night when his mother had set him down on the table closest to her in the midst of a tiny-wardrobe malfunction. Her husband, Austin von Hagen, stood beside her inconspicuously helping her out one second and the next, he was staring down at his oldest who seemed to be covered head to toe in fruit punch. Marius!, Giann whined glaring at his younger brother who held the cup in his hands. As if he’d known he’d get in trouble, he pouted, murmuring a, I’m sowry, clumsily to his older brother. Needless to say he got off scot-free while Austin had taken Giann for a change of clothes. When the party had died down, he could be found perched on his mothers hip, laying his head onto her chest while his violet eyes struggled to stay open. There was still a bit of frosting smeared on his lip though by now, he had wiped most of it off on his mothers dress. Mari, his mother whispered to him, rocking him in her arms. Did you have a good birthday, my love? In turn, the toddler mumbles incoherently. I know what you did Mini-Me, she hums amused, pressing a kiss onto his head. Throwing cakes and drinks at your own party? My love, you even poured some on your own brother. You really are my legacy, aren’t you, Mari? The toddler shook his head, a small ‘no’ escaping him as he buried his face into the crook of his mothers neck. Yes, two is officially when the world began to catch onto his mischief. It was a little bit earlier for everyone else.

✦ When he was younger, he was all but stuck onto Giann. Wherever the oldest von Hagen went there was a little pitter patter of footsteps racing to follow him until they were side-by-side and a small hand would grasp his. Gia, the toddler would clumsily say with a grin. The very same grin that the rest of the von Hagens seemed to be weak to. It takes just a few more smiles and Marius pouting with puppy dog eyes for Giann to indulge the toddler in some chaos. Even so young, Marius manages to shake the blame onto Giann everytime they get caught.

✦ He begins to paint with his mother. He’s a natural talent (of course) but at times he gets frustrated and will glare at the canvas in front of him. When he’s really angry, the matriarch has to stop herself from laughing. Instead, she flings a little bit of paint at her son who looks at her astonished for a minute. They begin a paint fight that has them covered in a myriad of colors, both of their canvases suffering from the onslaught. They don’t ever stop until Austin and Giann come in, even then, the other two have to be covered in paint before the artists could stop.

✦ The von Hagen Haven, as Marius dubbed it when he was younger, was their garden of epiphyllum's. For once, he’d allow himself to get dirty in search of the flowers. By the end of the day, he would always manage to push Giann into the lake whilst having a fresh bouquet to offer his mother.

✦ [Additionally, Giann always teases his little brother just a little before they leave on how dirty his hands are because young Marius is totally not a germaphobe]

✦ When his mother passes, Marius vehemently refuses to pick up even a pencil, afraid that his hands will start to create out of habit. He cannot—and I mean cannot—paint without hearing his mother in his head, without seeing her smile. Without yearning for her. So he doesn’t. Of course, it’s not that easy to tell because Marius is good at hiding things. Growing up as a sneaky little shit seemed to be in his favor. Though one night, he finds himself unable to console the silent tears that wrack through him and he’s not sure how but at one point, he had left his bedroom and had ended up in his mothers art room. The room still smells like her. Like her lotus flower perfume but there’s still the smell of paints that lingers in the air and he can’t seem to be able to hide the way his heart aches.

✦ After the death of his mother, it’s almost as if the heart of the von Hagen house has collapsed. The boys are left to pick up the pieces and reconstruct another resembling the last but their attempts are in vain. Especially when Austin begins to drown himself in his work and Giann is the one to help him, as if he’s slowly turning into another being solely created for Pax. And fate has it that the only role left for Marius to play is the perfectly fine son, who doesn’t have any problems, who’s still the same kid, who isn’t crying his eyes out quietly in the middle of the night in his mothers Art Room.

✦ [But von Hagens recover.]

✦ [At least that’s what Marius convinces himself.]

✦ In high school, Marius is already well-versed in art. It was his upbringing, the tangible future on the tip of his fingers. So, when his art teacher begins to ridicule the best of the best, he realizes that his art teacher is a moron. A pure, unintelligent moron. With amethyst eyes narrowed mischievously he begins to prod the teacher, to figure out how someone with an art degree can say such horrendous things. Well, if you think XXX is a bad artist then why don’t you paint us a piece?, mused the von Hagen. If you really can’t appreciate other people’s works then show us yours. Let us appreciate yours. Don’t tell me it’s that bad, sir! Don’t worry, I won’t be mean and hurt your feelings!

✦ [Does he get detention?]

✦ [No, he gets away with it scott-free.]

✦ [Does he continue said behavior?]

✦ [Absolutely. ]

✦ It starts out as an unconscious habit after the passing of his beloved mother, he and Giann devoted themselves to preserving her work, even at a young age. Art and music alike. When Marius’s mind begins to linger, he’ll tap his fingers on the nearest surface in a rythmic pattern. It’s only until he’s alone in the Art Room, tapping away with one hand and sorting through papers with the other does he finally recognize the tune his fingers had been tapping to. It’s his mothers’ melodies.

✦ Contrary to popular belief, Marius von Hagen does not argue with his family. For one, there’s no point and additionally, there’s nothing to argue about. But when Giann pushes Marius’s buttons (not on purpose of course) he finds himself livid. Giann had some assistants rearrange his artwork and a remaining painting left behind from his mother (that Giann was unaware of) had ruined.

✦ It wasn’t yours to move around!, Marius had shouted, violet eyes narrowed down at his brother. It was a rare sight—even in the von Hagen household—to see the youngest von Hagen livid. Not pissed off, not spitting out sarcastic nor dry remarks, but livid. His eyes fall on the painting, the creation of the current argument between him and Giann, the unfinished masterpiece that was left behind for him. It wasn’t finished yet, but even so, the strokes on the canvas were not his. The way the half-painted lotus flowers seemed to curl into each other, like a bouquet alight in the stream they were floating on top of was a clear indication of a very talented artist. Marius could never take credit for the work. Now, the top half of the canvas, where the unfinished sun used to be, is covered in a drying layer of black paint dripping down the canvas. The artwork was left to him, by his mother, to finish for her. In his seventeen years of living he’s sure he’s never been as enraged as he is now. Why were you in there?!, he shouted at Giann who watched him pitifully. It was an accident, Marius, his brother explained calmly, I knocked into the easel and it fell. I’m sorry I—

✦ A tear trailed down Marius’s face. He could see Giann talking though his words felt like they were going in one ear and out the other. His amethyst eyes could not leave the sight of the painting, the sight of his beloved mothers work. Marius, I—, Giann had said, surprised at the reaction but the boy shook his head, grabbing the painting on his way out.

✦ He does not come out of the Art Room for two days, mostly because he’s a stubborn little shit.

✦ Also because his eyes are puffy and he’s spent hours trying to salvage the remaining of his mothers work.

✦ [He sneaks out in the dead of night to nibble on food but everything tastes bland.]

✦ [He misses his mother dearly.]

✦ The night of the second day his father and Giann come knocking at the door and he lets them in only because his eyes aren’t red anymore and he thinks he’s calm.

✦ He mutters out an apology, missing when his father and brother shoot each other worried glances.

✦ The next time he revisits the painting is when he’s eighteen.

✦ To be more precise, the day of his graduation. His heart yearns for his mother so he sneaks away mid-ceremony to his art class for a pencil and a paper and he begins to sketch. He’s not sure what at first until it becomes something that makes his heart soar, something he realizes would look beautiful on the ruined canvas. Of course Marius von Hagen somehow manages to come back before his name is called. It’s only until he accepts his diploma with lead-smeared fingers does he smile. I’ll finish it for you, Mama, he tells himself, walking down the podium gracefully, the sketch tucked into the pocket of his robe. I am your legacy, aren’t I?

a/n: this one is wayyyy more chaotic then the one i wrote for younger artem lmao, but i hope y’all enjoyed, i liked writing it! i wanted to add (slight spoiler mention involving marius’s mom??) it does mention that she passed away “shortly after giving birth to marius” in his twilight beauty sr card but let me live my angsty dreams and say she lived a little longer than that uwu

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thepaxgroup · 3 years ago

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artem through the years

summary: little headcannons of artem wing as a child till highschool and the family dynamics behind it

characters: artem wing | zuǒ rán and his parents

warning(s): none

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this one is a lil angsty—more bittersweet i would say! i tried to keep artem as true to his character as i could,,, i’ll leave some a/n down below too to explain more! enjoy <3

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦 (𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥):

✦ In elementary, he used to wait an extra thirty minutes without complaint for his mother to pick him up. The woman would profusely apologize to her son, pressing a quick kiss to his temple as she hastily got him into the car. She asks him quick questions and he tries not to get too excited because he knows his mother is a busy woman. So he answers with soft replies and pink-tinged cheeks when he remembers something that elated him in class. He completely misses his mothers wistful eyes glancing at him in the mirror like clockwork.

✦ His babysitter would wait for him at home and the exchange was quick. His mother would wave goodbye, at times she’d blow a kiss, and she’d be off to work once more. “Artem is a good kid,” is what all his sitters used to say because Artem would stay quiet and polite and very very rarely did he ask for attention since he understood that busy people could not stop for a moment in their pursuit of ambition.

✦ In second grade, his parents had taken him out to find a Halloween costume. The time alone made his heart flutter and his ears pink (it’s when he learned how important quality time was). He shook his head shyly at every other costume they suggested, knowing if he chose one the day would be over. That and he had never liked the holiday that much. Maybe his Kindergarten teacher was right, maybe he lacked the imagination a child should have (don’t tell his parents that though). In the end, he asks his parents clumsily with shining ocean eyes if he could dress as a lawyer. They find him a suit and a periwinkle tie—oh gods, his mother will not stop grinning and snapping photos. It makes him feel warm, so he lets her take a few more.

✦ When little Artem had come down with a nasty cold that didn’t leave for a worrying amount of time, he found himself writhing in his tiny bed, clutching onto the sheets. The house was cold as it always was but he felt as though he were on fire. A coughing fit and a sitter calling his parents is the last he remembers. Though when night comes, something cool presses against his forehead. He cracks his tired eyes open finding it odd that he’s pressed against something familiar, that wasn’t the comfort of his bed. Shhh, someone whispers in a deep voice, rubbing circles into his back, Go back to bed. It’s a vague, vague memory that he’s convinced he made up in his fever-delirious mind. S-School… he croaked out, shifting upright. When he looks up once more he recognizes the silver eyes that look down on him. His father. It’s okay, you can miss a day Artem, murmured his father, pressing his cold hands on Artems forehead. The boy leans into the touch. I’ll be here when you wake up, said Mr. Wing as if he had known what Artem was thinking. I promise you, my love.

✦ At the start of middle school, the sitters are long gone. He’s been walking home now for years yet this time, he dreads the cold and lonely house that waits for him. He wants to call his parents when the sun begins to set because they aren’t home yet but he doesn’t want to disturb them.

✦ It’s the summer going into ninth grade when Artem decides to learn how to cook. He’s efficient enough to make basic meals without burning the house down and… he’s not sure why but he can’t stomach the take-out that he gets during the majority of the week when his parents leave him with a credit card and an apologetic note.

✦ He saves every single note.

✦ He’s surprised to find out that cooking is easy, fun—therapeutic. He sits alone in his dining room, diligently typing his thesis while a bowl of congee cools beside him. It’s at the last sentence of his essay does he stop to realize his food has gone cold, almost as cold as the aura that suffocated his family house. Yet, he still tries it and he still something small, something melancholic flitters in his eyes. I wish they could try it too… Artem swallows back the thought with a spoonful of congee.

✦ [He still leaves extras in a tupperware container in the fridge on the off chance they come home hungry]

✦ The week after, he finds a worn out book open in the kitchen. He instantly recognizes it as the family cookbook his mother would try pluck recipes from. Truthfully, he’s unsure why it’s there but he has his guesses. A small smile tugs at his lips and his chest becomes ridiculously warm. When Artem grabs the book he doesn’t see the note that slides out of the pages. Written in black ink it read, I found this for you, love. It looks like you’ll be needing it more than your father and I ever have. Love, Mom.

✦ [When Mrs. Wing comes home at the dead of night, shrugging her blazer off with a sigh, she’s surprised to see the note left on the ground. Her lips purse into a tight line but she says nothing more, crumpling it up in the palm of her hand before she throws it in the trash.]

✦ Artem Wing does not resent his parents. They’re thriving and they’re trying and they’re doing their best. That’s what he understands. Even so, it’s only natural when his heart lurches in his chest during another late night study in the Stellis’ public library without even a buzz from his phone. Since he had started high school, he tried to avoid the suffocating isolation that was his home. He would spend days and nights studying until there was a little outline of bags under his eyes. Calls and texts became less and less frequent now that he was older though sometimes, he wishes he wasn’t.

✦ Artem does not expect his mother to be home for his seventeenth birthday. So he stares at her with his ocean eyes wide when he comes back from the library around ten, with his mother asleep on the sofa, sitting upright. There’s a neatly wrapped gift in her hands. Mom? He had whispered guiltily. At the sound of her son, Mrs. Wings sky-blue eyes begin to flutter and she looks at him with a soft smile. Happy Birthday Artem, she said sleepily, Your father was waiting for you too but he had to go. I’m sorry, my love. She holds out the gift in her hands which Artem slowly takes in his own. I’m sorry... I thought you both were working... he murmured. Artem pressed a kiss onto his mothers forehead, Thank you Mom, he says.

✦ Holidays are a busy time of year. Stores purge their storages while customers splurge their checks to buy the best of decorations, the best of gifts for the people they hold in their hearts. Snow has begun to set in Stellis but Artem doesn’t mind. He’s used to the cold. Christmas Eve is spent alone, baking cookies in the kitchen while he quietly hums to traditional Chinese opera. Christmas Day is like a routine, something he’s grown accustomed to. Artem takes a fresh batch of cookies to his parents' law firm, wrapping them in a box with a burgundy bow for the season. Of course, he doesn’t see them. An assistant tells him they’re with a client and for the millionth time Artem assures the assistant it’s okay when he hands the box over. Merry Christmas, carrying the ache in his heart with grace.

✦ Though, he misses when his father leaves his office, eyes wide at the sight of his son exiting the building. Artem, he wants to call out to him but Mr. Wing swallows it back because the doors have already shut. Merry Christmas, Artem, he says in his heart.

✦ His mother and father FaceTime him the morning of his high school graduation. Artem awoke to the cold comforting him for one last time. We’re so proud of you, grinned his mother. She still retained her young looks but age and work most likely, had hardened her eyes. We’re sorry we can’t make it, chimed his father. His parents had been called for a case out of Stellis nearly two weeks ago. They were planning to come but their flight had been pushed back despite their attempts to find a different plane. He brushes it off with ease, thanks them with care. It’s okay, Artem replied. It doesn’t really matter, the ceremony is just a formality anyways.

✦ He misses the guilty look the two of them share.

✦ He carries the ache, the warmth, the ambition in him so quietly when he’s called to accept his diploma. For he, started out as a Wing.

a/n: oookaay,,,, what i was gonna say was to be honest, i feel like artem wouldn’t be the type to be super teenage angsty about his parents working all the time. i think he’d understand and respect it, as well as admire them both. however, i do think that there’s a tiny, almost silent, part of him that wishes he got to spend more time with them. after all, that’s what children need. he’s kinda the type of character who would help someone else before ever helping his self and he’s shy and clumsy with affection so i think it would be hard for him to communicate it as we’ve seen before lmao. and yes, we haven’t heard much from his parents but i do think they adored him bc,,, like,,, he’s artem??? also, if you found any grammatical errors no you did not ;v;

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