❓+ are you afraid of becoming like your mother? (you pick)
"No."
The concept was utterly ridiculous to both Carmine daughters and the incredulity at it shone in their voices as much as their expressions.
Carmilla was and had always been a model to them, someone they looked to for guidance and support when uncertainty or hesitance struck. Even when she seemed unsure of the next wise move, her calmness under pressure and the confidence with which she stuck to her next decision was awe-inspiring, at the very least. She was a woman confident in her existence and status, someone whose determination was to be admired, not judged.
Yes, Carmilla had made her own collection of mistakes over the centuries of their souls' existences, had paid the most severe toll for some of them, but was that not a reminder that they were human? That they were fallible? Was that not a good thing to strive for in a realm where one's humanity became harder and harder to locate?
And sure, while no one would desire to be exactly like their parent, both of them had plenty of little quirks that maintained their individuality, so that wasn't a possibility anyway.
Even if it was, to be considered like Carmilla was nothing close to a concern for them. Hell, were someone to charge them with such would fill both of them with pride.
So for someone to hint that becoming reminiscent of their mother was a bad thing was an insult both to themselves and the woman they both held dear, a misconception they would gladly correct, if the requestor was actually worth that time and effort.
No, they would much rather dedicate that time to someone who deserved it.
𝓪𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭; an independent and selective portrayal of 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮 from hazbin hotel. canon compliant with own headcanons and backstory.
written by kat. 21+ only. please read the rules before interacting, thank you!
Seated at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea cradled in one hand, Carmilla allows her gaze to drift thoughtfully over the documents laid before her; inked words soon lose their hold, however, when the familiar lilt of Clara’s voice draws her attention from her work. Her youngest daughter’s tone alone sparks intrigue, accompanied by mild suspicion; experience has taught her well that Clara’s interpretation of “important” often diverges significantly from her own.
“Aquí, mi luna,” Carmilla calls in return, placing the tea cup back onto its matching saucer. The rustle of fabric heralds Clara’s entrance, and pale eyes rise instinctively, lips already curving into an indulgent smile; it falters only slightly when she catches sight of the small, furry bundle nestled protectively within Clara’s jacket. Brows knit together in resigned exasperation as a soft sigh slips from painted lips, though affection remains close, lingering at the edges of her expression. Of all the possibilities she had briefly considered, somehow, a feline had not numbered among them; trust Clara to continually discover new ways of surprising her.
“Ay, Clara, an important question indeed.” As if sensing it has become the subject of scrutiny, the little creature peers inquisitively back at her, tiny bat-like wings twitching with curiosity, almost as though eager to greet her. Carmilla immediately recognizes the fondness already deeply rooted in the younger Carmine’s expression; the stubborn determination reflected there mirrors her own so distinctly that it nearly coaxes another sigh.
Leaning back in her chair, Carmilla crosses her arms loosely across her chest, regarding daughter and creature alike with appraisal. “And who, exactly, is this little companion you have brought home? I assume you have already considered precisely how busy we all are, and how limited our time is for yet another responsibility; nevertheless, let us hear your case. Clearly, you have already prepared one.”
Hearing her mother’s voice from the kitchen, Clara forced herself to take a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Carmilla didn't sound too tired, and to be greeted with her nickname was a promising sign in terms of her mother's mood, just as much as her working outside of her office was. All three conditions suggested that everything was aligned to her benefit, now she just had to be brave and ask to keep him. He would be a benefit for all of their well-being, a source of comfort and semi-normalcy in a realm where so many things weren't. Surely explaining that would be simple if backed up by all her research and her mother would have to understand. She could do that, couldn't she?
Clara realized she must have been stuck in her thoughts for far too long when she heard a tiny questioning mew?
Glancing down at the tilted head and bright eyes watching her, Clara couldn't help but gift the tiny hellcat a soft smile before gently scratching between his ears until he purred. “You're right, this is the best conditions we could have hoped for. We've got nothing to worry about,” she whispered, reassuring him as much as herself, “just...behave when you meet her, okay? We're going to need as much help as we can get.”
The little guy released a low mrr as he settled against her, as though he understood to keep a low profile, and Clara took it as a sign he was ready to meet her--maybe their!--mom.
Stepping into the kitchen, Clara gave her mother a sheepish smile, though she studied her mother's expression carefully as she made her way closer to the table. It was no secret that Carmilla was (typically) incredibly skilled at keeping her expressions in check, something that worked magic for her in her office or boardroom. However, Clara was her daughter and had spent many decades learning just how to translate them. She was a Carmine after all, attention to tiny details was their specialty.
So that slightly faltering smile? The concern carefully tucked into the few wrinkles of a slightly furrowed brow? The all too familiar sigh? Carmilla was uncertain, maybe even already considering ways to deny Clara's unspoken request before she could give it, her mind near set on the concept that the family was too busy to even humor keeping a pet. However, some of that seemed to falter for just a moment as the little hellcat wiggled in her arms just enough to see the woman they both had to convince, his head tilted in curiosity as she could feel his wings and tail twitch--just as they had when she first met him. Interesting, but what was more so was that her mother questioned her intention instead of outright denying it.
That was all the opening and encouragement she needed.
"I haven't named him yet," she hummed, giving him another soft scratch before focusing entirely on her mother, "just in case." Allowing herself one more steadying breath, she gave her mother a firm nod, one hand petting him to keep herself steadied. "I've given it a lot of thought, Mamá, and done a lot of research to check that keeping him would be good for all of us." Shifting her arms such that her mother could get a good look at him and vice versa, she hummed. "I found him injured behind our building a while ago and bandaged him up and got him food while he healed. Since he recovered, he's been incredibly self-sufficient, and has had no problem managing for himself when I've been unable to visit. I also did some research and hellcats are good at taking care of themselves, so long as his basic needs are present." She chucked. "Might even be a good opportunity for Odette to make some of the automated doodads she's been considering. Or he might be a good office mascot!"
Clara sighed, averting her gaze. "But seriously, I think something not human might give us all something easier to relax with after a long day when we don't want to explain it to one another. And he's just so affectionate, I think he'll take to you as fast as he did me."
Shifting her hold to offer him to her mother as he also tried to examine the woman before them, she smiled brightly. "Why don't you let him sniff you and try petting him? I think he's curious about you, too!"
SHE WAS IMPRESSED TO SAY THE LEAST. PUPPET ALWAYS FELT children needed to explore their own freedom, and of course their curiosities, in order to fully bloom. Then again, Puppet wasn’t a mother, probably never will be, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was a small thought, one she was sure to forget about in a few minutes, but one couldn’t say for certain. For now, she pulled her focus back into reality.
HER EYES FELL BACK DOWN TO THE ANGEL WITH A thoughtful look, “ Not everyone’s interests are the same, and if they were… how utterly boring this world would be, ” she shook her head, “ You’ll come to find that I’m not too picky in the types of tools I use, however, I must admit that the tools I received from your family are more than satisfactory. ” Puppet lifted her gaze to Odette where she found her stoic ghoulish features turned to delight.
THE OVERLORD BEGAN TO CLEAN HER HANDS OF THE GORE, “ I retrieved the body from the battlefield in front of that hotel. I managed to grab quite a few while everyone made themselves busy. I saw my chance and I took it; I couldn’t let them go to waste, ” Puppet discarded the cloth she cleaned her hands with, and took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, “ Is the reason for your visit truly to ask about the toolset? ”
That wasn't exactly the type of feedback she was looking for, though it wasn't particularly surprising, either. Like the other woman said, everyone's interests were different, and while Odette's may have been focused on honing her craft and developing the skill and talent to develop personalized weapons or tools for even the most particular of clients, it only made sense that Puppet might not share such interests. She had thought the Overlord's field of practice might make her devote a bit more attention to the tools in hand, but if her satisfaction derived more from the effects than how she came about it, then Odette supposed she would have to adjust her focus on the product accordingly. She could ensure Puppet was still satisfied with the Carmine product in her hand, even if she had to ensure it by context alone, and gave her a nod of understanding.
Arching a brow at the other's sudden apparent amusement, Odette's train of thought broke from how she could start making something more personalized for Puppet, having not expected her simple inquiry of source to garner such a reaction. Though, once she explained, it became clear, and Odette could not help but release an amused snort.
"That was quite the opportune moment, I imagine. Though it is a wonder you were able to get to them before Rosie's cannibals did. They're not often one to delay any meal... well, unless she calls them off of it, I suppose. Still, judging by the state of your work, the boldness seems to have served you well."
As Puppet settled in her seat, Odette drew closer, not yet sitting as she had not yet been invited. While she wasn't particularly skilled in social graces, she knew better than to assume any invitation. Shrugging at her question, Odette averted her eyes.
"As they are my handiwork and not my mother's, that was my primary reason. I was curious if you would note any discrepancy from her work, and if it was acceptable enough. Though I must apologize for deceiving you." Her eyes drifted back to the angel once more, an obscure thought coming to mind. "Are they different internally from humanoid sinners?"
❓+ have you ever felt like you disappointed your mother? (for odette)
Well that was an utterly ridiculous question.
Carmilla would never, ever dare state or even suggest such a thing in action or word, no matter what Odette did. Whether she succeeded in crafting something that blew up part of her lab, failed to deliver critical blueprints on time, or anything in between, Carmilla had never truly seemed disappointed in her. While her mother did react, as any reasonable person would, there was never anything more judgmental than perhaps an exhausted, yet understanding exhale and nod, followed by an offering for assistance or more time, whatever best fit the situation.
Hell, even Clara's far more extreme antics never drew genuine disappointment from their mother, and Odette very rarely participated in any particularly damning mischief even close to that of her sister's, so there was no reason to believe there was disappointment sourced from that perspective, either. Clara aside, in contrast to those that did openly disappoint Carmilla, her work was reliable and impressive, her demeanor agreeable, and she knew she rarely caused her mother more than the natural headache fear that came with residing in Hell.
All in all, how could she believe her mother was ever disappointed in her?
And yet...despite the solid and undeniable evidence that her mother seemed nigh incapable of such, that didn't stop her from feeling like she had done so. Numerous times, in fact, and not only alive, but in their many years in Hell, as well.
She had made so many mistakes, both big and small, many of which harmed Carmilla or her sister directly or indirectly, and it was clear that she was so much less than even the simplest standards expected of her. It didn't matter how she compared to the rest of Hell if she couldn't surpass her own goals and standards. And if she disappointed herself, surely her mother was, too.
Carmilla didn't need to vocalize or express disappointment for it to exist, so Odette was certain it did.
Her voice was shaky as an answer was driven from her. "...Yes."
❓+ have you ever felt overshadowed by your sister? (for clara)
the 'yes or no' game
The phrasing of the question immediately irritated her.
It suggested that there was a ranking between the sisters, like one could rise above the other in the eyes of their mother or the general populace, could become more than her sister, and thus leave the other's accomplishments unnoticed in time---shadowed, to match their phrasing. That it could be asked at all suggested an unspoken competition between the two and that she, the younger, was more likely to be ignored in favor of her sister.
But they asked, and she had no choice but to answer.
She never looked at Odette that way, never wanted to. They were sisters, partners, one she could trust most with any concern. They both excelled and shone in their own way and Clara.
But the problem was, no matter how much she didn't want to compare herself to her sister or her accomplishments and knew she was impressive of her own accord... she couldn't help it.
Though Odette always struggled on Earth and in Hell with appearing to be Carmilla's daughter (an utterly stupid concept, in her opinion), she certainly behaved as such, much better than Clara did. Clara was always the outspoken and outgoing daughter, getting into mischief whenever she could, if for no other reason to ensure her sister was safe and she disappointed their father. Time and again she had heard potential suitors bemoan wanting her looks in their heirs, but everything else of Odette. It made her feel as though she was nothing more than something to look at, and nothing of hers could ever compare no matter how she tried.
Even in Hell now, the only thing she truly excelled over her sister at was athleticism, and even that she could not fully claim as her own, for Odette had commendable prowess in everything she did, just short of her skill.
With such an impressive sister beside her, glowing with her capabilities, how could she not feel lesser?
And so, with a low growl hiding beneath her tone, she replied, "yes."
Send my muse "❓+" alongside harsh hitting questions, scenarios, anything question-related really, but they can only answer with "yes" or "no". Nothing more, nothing less.
✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.
• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine.
• How long have you been walking around like this?
• I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is.
• You should have told me the moment it happened.
• Hold still. I mean it. Hold still.
• This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to.
• You've been hiding this for days, haven't you.
• Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this.
• Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you.
• I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it.
• I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that?
• Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me.
• Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign.
• I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference.
• Come into the light. Let me see your face.
• You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can.
• You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight.
• I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now.
• Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me.
• It's not weak to let someone see you hurt.
• You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here.
• Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face.
• I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can.
• You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice?
• This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
• I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now.
• You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know.
• Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere.
• You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching.
• I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me.
• You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper.
• Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now.
• I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you.
• Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me.
• You're going to be alright. I promise you.
• You went back out there after this? With this?
• Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight.
• I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return.
• You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.
SHE SEEMED HESITANT, AND GIVEN THE STORIES THAT SURROUNDED HIM, he didn’t blame her. It was another thing to be in the same room as him when her mother and sister were around, but to be with him alone while injured? A dangerous combination… for any other soul. She’s safe from your jaws. Indeed, she and her sister both. He would instead turn his jaws and talons on anyone who dared attempt an uttered threat to the Carmine girls.
ALASTOR STARTED TO LOWER HIMSELF INTO A SEAT WHEN HE barked out a laugh, “ Yes, you imagine correctly! ” He let out a sigh as he adjusted himself comfortably, and then gestured with his hand to the opposite seat in the room for Odette to join him if she’d like, “ I suppose that observation couldn’t be helped, and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong, my dear. ” No one in their right mind would like to be paraded around like a prized possession while also mocked. It burned his pride, but in the end he knew it had been worth it. He was free from his contracts, and after all, that was his main goal.
A BRIEF GLINT OF NOSTALGIC PAIN FLICKERED IN HIS EYES, but he turned his gaze towards the window to hide it. Alastor wasn’t well put together like he wanted to be. Especially when it involved Vox. He was a buried memory that stung, and when Alastor didn’t like something, he only pushed it down more. Or, maybe it was the opposite? He wasn’t sure. Emotions and him never got along very well. It was deep rooted, and whenever he touched that root it hurt. All of it made him feel like a child.
HE DIDN'T NEED TO BURDEN HER WITH THESE PROBLEMS, OR any of them for that matter, “ Yes and no, ” Alastor admitted, “ I’ll be honest in saying I’m not sure how I should feel about him— or anything right now, really. ”
Well, at least her candid assessment of the situation didn't drive him off or result in an abrupt request for her to leave, so she supposed that was a reassuring enough sign that she had not offended him. It was more often than not that her candid questions or presumptions landed her in trouble with their coldness--a skill she was trying (and struggling) to improve with--and yet it did not do so here, to her relief. Perhaps she was indeed becoming better at it or, more likely, it did not bother Alastor as she feared it would.
That did seem the most plausible, for Alastor always seemed to relish in being unpredictable.
Still, though she could take some relief in his decision to sit and relax with her still present, there was a tension about him that she was certain extended past that of his wound, one she didn't quite know how to read. Odette knew better than to ask or press further, of course, but it was something to note and question her mother about later, if even she knew the source of unease.
Such things were better to ponder when she didn't have company, instead focusing on Alastor and giving him a soft smile and nod at his invitation, accepting the seat across from him. As she straightened her coat, she could not help but raise a brow in curiosity at his answer and subsequent aversion of gaze.
Alastor averting his gaze from anything was new, and she struggled to keep her expression passive as he seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment. Perhaps whatever lingered between him and Vox was far more complicated than she assumed, but it was best not to question it, if it created that such a reaction from him.
"No, that makes sense. It's been quite...tumultuous lately for all of us, and I think we're all still processing our own concerns." Lacing her fingers together, she dropped her gaze. "Still... despite all that, I'm glad you finally remembered you could stay here to recollect yourself. We were worried that perhaps the fight with the archangel had knocked too many braincells out of your head." As she glanced up at him, she gave him a small smile. "I am glad you're still in one piece all the same."
Seated at the kitchen island, Carmilla lightly runs fingertips across the surface of the sketchbook before her, bound in a rich, dark leather and featuring a sun of silver filigree stamped into its lower right corner. Within, lovingly tucked between pristine pages, lies an assortment of gathered mementos: handwritten family recipes inked in their mother tongue, folded letters of varying length and context penned throughout the years, and old blueprints of Odette’s own making, saved from discarded drafts and thoughtfully annotated by Carmilla herself.
Today marks her eldest’s birthday, a day Carmilla knows she prefers to pass quietly, absent the pomp and flourish Clara so openly delights in; still, she finds herself reluctant to let the occasion slip by entirely uncelebrated. Pale eyes lift from contemplation as the daughter occupying her thoughts steps across the threshold into the kitchen, no doubt seeking her customary morning coffee.
Rising gracefully from the stool, Carmilla offers a soft smile, the warmth and affection entirely at home along her features when directed toward her daughters. “Mi sol, I know you prefer your birthdays without fanfare, yet I do hope you can forgive a mother’s indulgence.” She extends the journal, a compilation of treasured memories along with ample space to craft new ones, hopeful that Odette will welcome such a gift. “In addition, I have made certain my schedule allows me to return home early, so that we might spend the evening together, should you wish it.”
When she went to bed the night before, Odette had expected the following morning to begin just as all others had before it: waking up to the simple jingle of her alarm, stretching to remove the lingering exhaustion from a restful slumber, then getting dressed and acquiring coffee before work. Never did it cross her mind that the next day was her birthday, for she gave it such little relative importance in comparison to the tasks of the day.
Clara, however, did not, and Odette awoke to a small weight landing directly on her stomach, forcing the breath from her as her sleep was so rudely interrupted by the paws of a small feline and the wide grin of her younger sister.
"Jefe--Clara! What--"
"Happy birthday, hermana! Here! I got you something, open it!" A small box was shoved into her hands as Jefecito sat on her lap, his tail flicking behind him as his wings twitched in excitement. It was moments like these that Odette questioned just what kind of cat he really was, or if Clara had trained him to be her mischievous sidekick, and her eyes flicked between the two of them in suspicion as she rolled the box around in her hands.
"What is--"
"Just open it!"
Accompanying the friendly request from her sister was a very insistent mrow and stomp of the feet by Jefecito, one she could not deny and had no choice but to sigh and open the gift before her.
It was a small box of drafting pencils similar to--no identical to the set she had nearly worn out. But... this set was impossible to get in Hell, had been for decades, and she clearly recalled foolishly dismissing her last opportunity to acquire a set, for hers was not even half depleted at the time. She hadn't imagined that they would stop being imported as digital schematics became more popular, and fully expected to suffer the consequences of that decision until her soul one day faded. Looking up to her sister with wide eyes, she found that Clara had a sheepish smile on her face.
"You mentioned that your previous set was nearly down to stubs," yes, once in irritation at the fact, but she didn't expect Clara was actually listening, "and I know how much you love it. Had to pull a few strings and call in some favors to get my hands on it, but you're worth the effort. Might be the last one I can get my hands on though, so take good care of it."
Odette was speechless, before a small smile formed on her face as she nodded. "I...thank you, Clarisa."
Her sister released a small chuckle as she beamed. "You're welcome. Now get ready and get to the kitchen. Mama's already made coffee."
As her sister scampered off with her mischievous fuzzy feline in tow, Odette released a content sigh, working through her (albeit delayed) morning routine, stashing her new drawing equipment carefully into her satchel before making her way into the kitchen.
She had expected for her mother to have prepared coffee and perhaps left something from one of their favorite bakeries, for she so often went to the office slightly earlier than Odette or her sister and had early morning meetings. She would not have been disappointed to find a note to meet her at the office or perhaps some other small message or gift of endearment. Carmilla was busy, and every moment was necessary in ensuring their family's safety, and Odette neither demanded or expected anything particularly special for her birthday.
But that had never been Carmilla's way any more than it was Clara's, and she could not stop the endeared sigh that left her at the sight of her mother at the counter.
A small smile graces her features as Carmilla rose and she gave her a small nod. "I would never dare deny you an indulgence, Mother."
Head tilting at the book presented to her, Odette drew closer, carefully taking the gift in hand. It was a rather sizeable sketchbook, but not overly heavy or bulky, and she found her fingers drifting over the cover before settling just over the small sun in the corner. It was clear that the book was customized for her, and she had no doubt that her mother and sister had discussed their gifts to be things that Odette would indeed cherish and perhaps even use in tandem. It would only hold important things, of course, unlimited though the pages seemed to be, and Odette began to ponder what she might deem important enough to use it for.
At least, that was before she caught note of just a slight rise to some of the pages, appearing that they were added after the initial binding. Curious, for sure, and Odette gently laid the book upon the counter to open to one of said pages, a small gasp escaping her when she recognized it as her mother's handwriting detailing one of her favorite recipes.
Carefully flipping through a few pages, she found further recipes and a few folded up letters, ones she would absolutely be reading in private later. Then, after a few more pages, she came across a blueprint, one of her blueprints, one she had trashed long before. Only...it wasn't the same as when she had discarded it as a failure. There was clearly her mother's writing on it, not only notes showing that her designs could work, but where they could be improved as well--and perhaps even brought into production, should she heed them and update the drawings. It was a clear statement that her ideas were neither trash nor worthless as she thought, and she was certain that the letters contained similar such praise.
Her mother had spent significant time and energy on this gift, and turned it to something she could not only use, but also look to on the darker days for comfort if her mother and sister weren't around.
She didn't know how to process it.
"How did you...I don't..." Her voice caught and she struggled to clear her throat to speak once more. When that did nothing to dislodge the lump in her throat or allow her to speak, Odette instead rushed to her mother's side, burying her face against her mother's chest as her arms wrapped around her middle. It was far easier to communicate when she didn't have to keep eye contact, after all.
"I would love nothing more. Can we make one of these recipes, please?"
So I actually don't ship either of them with anyone lol. Considering their mom's history and how 2/3 males in their lives were shit (Zestial being the streak breaker) both are kind of disillusioned with love and certainly aren't going out looking for it.
Odette may eventually find someone she meshes with, but Clara is vehemently against ever allowing herself to get close with someone like that.
📑 Favorite part of your muse’s backstory?
Honestly, probably the night they died and how it came about. While there was nothing either of them could have done to stop it or notice the danger signs sooner, even if they weren't "negligent" as they both think they were, it defines so much about why they both behave the way they do, why they remain close to Carmilla and are so protective of her (and initially questioning of Zestial and his intentions), and it just adds that nice little sting of guilt that both live with, albeit for different reasons. They're hyper protective of each other and their mother, preferring to stay by her side and continuing to work with her, though still allowing themselves some degree of experimentation and freedom they never had in life, and it's all because of the worst and last night of their lives.
While I like to think that all three of them had always been close, I think the event brought them closer and led to a different relationship in Hell had they died at, say, different times or circumstances.
🔥 Unpopular opinion about your muse?
I feel like a lot of people treat them as a lot younger and weaker than they are, like that they're teenagers and utterly helpless or something. To me, the two read like they're in their mid to late twenties, old enough to take care of and protect themselves, but still having that bit of younger adult youthfulness and invincibility that you don't lose until like mid thirties.
I think part of that idea comes from the fact that, show-wise, we only see them in the most strenuous of circumstances (outside of their delivery to Pentious or the weapons cache to the hotel, which are honestly some of the most telling scenes in regards to their age), in which Carmilla has to protect them (though it seems like people forget even she wasn't sure she'd survive). We don't really see them in day to day activities, and I think that makes some think that they're younger or more reliant on Carmilla than they probably really are. If that was the case, there's no way they'd ever be outside on their own with very dangerous weaponry.
So yeah, the girls are at least young adult, perfectly self-reliant, and work with their mom because they want to, not out of a necessity to stay near because they can't protect themselves.
This one, hands down. The silent argument and conversation between them, that Clara purposely shifts to look up at her sister, there's so much characterization and hints to their relationship here that it's just ugh, beautiful.
📝 Favorite headcanon for your muse?
This is a little bit silly, but it's that Clara behaves like she's up to date with the latest trends and while it's true that she works especially hard to keep with recent news (i.e. she was the first to learn to use a cell phone, get familiar with how the internet works, etc.), in actuality she is still much like her mom in acting like an old person, using outdated lingo or tools or technology the wrong way, what have you. It's just when she breaks something, she acts like it was on purpose to cover it up.
Odette, I think, is secretly a very sensitive person. While she usually maintains a more scientific, professional, and nearly detached vibe to anyone around her, she really takes to heart any expression of affection that she is gifted, such as those from her mother and sister. She may be quiet in terms of showing her appreciation for such things, hates being the center of attention, and has difficulty in expressing any gratitude, but that doesn't change that she holds any such moment close to her heart.
💭 Favorite memory of the muse?
I'll be honest with you, I do not understand what this question means XD
Send one of the following to ask the mun… (please specify muse for multis)
✍ Favorite thing about writing the muse?
👀Favorite thing about the muse’s appearance?
🌌Favorite alternate version of the muse?
💕Favorite ship for the muse?
💔Least favorite ship for the muse?
💢Something about the muse that annoys you?
😈Worst thing you’ve ever done to your muse?
😂Funniest thing that’s ever happened to your muse?
💡 What inspires you to write the muse?
📷 Favorite picture/screencap of your muse?
📑 Favorite part of your muse’s backstory?
📝 Favorite headcanon for your muse?
😒 Is there anything canon about your muse that you ignore?
🔮 What do you see in your muse’s future?
🔥 Unpopular opinion about your muse?
💭 Favorite memory of the muse?
😩 Hardest thing about writing the muse?
⌨ What’s a situation you’ve always wanted to RP with the muse?
🎭 How similar are you and the muse?
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
annaxmalina
pixelskylines
titsay
theartofmadeline
