wynn's space?

all my notes are here but I had to jump accounts lmao anyway you'll reach me at fickle-rocket

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France Headcanons

He loves doting on his little sisters, often taking them on daytrips so they can all spend time together.

While he is absolutely fine to be by himself, he's got a lot of people he loves to spoil and be around.

After all, he isn't called "the big brother of Europe" for nothing.

It's a title he wants to change to "the big brother of the world" though he should go for "the world's favorite brother" considering there's quite a few nations older than/not related to him.

It's okay for him to talk about having lived a long life but so help anyone who points out how old he is.

Same goes for the laugh lines he got a little over a hundred years ago.

England and Germany are often made to routinely inspect his hair to make sure those are light blond highlights, not stray grey or white hairs.

Once he's satisfied, he immediately goes back to boasting about his youthful look as if he never had any insecurity in his appearance to begin with.

Since the turn of the century he's gotten more confident in exploring both masculine and feminine presentation.

This is usually done with different outfits although he has been known to use light eye makeup.

He is excellent at doing hair.

So much so that he can work with many different textures and style them to best suit the wearer.

While he appreciates it in all forms as the self-proclaimed expert, he prefers the understated simplicity of natural beauty.

Lots of people come to him for advice or when they need a listening ear, even casual acquaintances.

He's glad to be a rock for almost anyone but has trouble opening up about deeply hidden feelings to all but a few. Namely Spain, Prussia and, begrudgingly, England.

But that's fine, because most of the time ago he needs to get himself through a difficult time is his smile and a pep talk.

While he's thoroughly convinced his cooking is among the best in the world, if not the best, he loves studying foreign cuisine and making it for himself.

That being said, he has no spice tolerance whatsoever.

It's actually pitiful.

He thought England at least would have a lower spice tolerance than him, but an evening of the two trying various curries proved him terribly wrong.

He's also not the biggest fan of pickled things for this reason. Vinegar is often too spicy for him.

While he occasionally indulges in something overly sugary, most of the time if he wants something sweet he's more than happy with a biscuit or a rustic fruit tart.

Sablés bretons are probably his favorite if he has to pick one, but macarons will always hold a special place in his heart. Plus he likes making them.

Since he knows the dessert itself didn't do anything wrong, he's made his peace with macaroons but don't mix them up with macarons in front of him.

Not to point fingers at anyone in particular America.

Because he doesn't like eating things that are too high in sugar, he's a fan of traditional British baking.

A secret he'll take to the grave.

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Metamorphosis AU: Installment 1

Years of work were going to come together in this one critical moment. Years of reading code until it was more familiar than their mother tongues, years of sleepless nights, of successes and failures. It was all about to come together into one big event.

It would be a lie to say none of the three of them were excited. The buzz in the air was palpable.

Not only had the trio proven the existence of the multiverse with an overwhelming amount of evidence, but they were about to peer into another reality just to see it for themselves. Their equipment was ready and the three of them waited for one to make the call, all of them waiting at the edges of their seats.

"If we're going to do this, I don't see a point in putting it off any longer," the representation of Germany grumbled as he brushed over a stack of notes one last time.

"No time like the present," his Russian counterpart cheerfully agreed. He secured the long ends of his thick scarf under his sweater, then looked to the last member of the trio, who had up until now been uncharacteristically quiet.

This was the personification of America, who had been deep in thought for some time. They were all thrilled to be so close, sure, but were they opening Pandora's box?

The young man sighed and ran his hands through his hair, then offered a wide smile to his friends. He clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Right on! I've been waiting forever to see how this turns out. Let's go."

Germany accepted the proclamation without issue, but as expected, Russia's gaze lingered on America for longer than he was comfortable with. The western nation matched that stare, the two locked in a falsely cheerful exchange.

Oh, how little they had changed. America cocked an eyebrow, daring the other to speak. Russia simply chuckled in response, then stood and strode over to the delicate machinery that had spent the last few years there in that spotless Berlin basement.

He crouched down and plugged in a couple of cords while the other two waited at their shared table with bated breath. As the electric whirring filled the room, Russia stood and waited by the center of the mechanical mass, an old metal door that looked near indestructible.

"We can share pleasure," he announced, his smile wide as ever. "I'm happy to open this if you turn the power on, Germany."

Aside from the dull hum in the background from the electricity, the room was silent. All that could be heard was someone stomping around on the floor above them and a raucous laughter.

The distraction wasn't enough for America to forget the surely deliberate snubbing. He pushed up his glasses and asked, "And what about me, hm? What do I get to do?"

Russia thought for a moment, tapping a finger to his lip. Glancing over at Germany, America saw that while his expression was the same as ever, his jaw was clenched. Neither looked forward to the answer.

"We need someone to do a countdown!" The Muscovite announced before repeating that same damn mocking laugh of his.

Whatever. This was supposed to be a good day, and the two of them were friends now. America could take this.

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, then moved so he could access the control panel they had built. If he had something to say, it couldn't be that important. Or maybe he wanted to keep the illusion of peace.

But passive aggression had no place here. America stood in clear view of the door so he could see the other side when it appeared.

He clapped his hands together and loudly cleared his throat. You could only announce the coming of another reality one time. He had to do it right.

"Alright, guys! We're on in ten, nine, eight, sev-"

"Wait!" Came the shrill hollering of Germany's elder brother as he began pounding on the door. "You can't do it without my say-so and you don't get my say-so until you let me in!"

The three of them could have had a whole debate in shrugs, eyerolls, and hums while they figured out the safest course of action but Germany decided to spare them.

"It's open. Come in, but don't cross the red line. And don't distract us," he ordered.

Not more than a second later, Prussia had opened the door and was ever so gleefully rocking back and forth in front of the duct taped line on the floor. He looked the setup up and down, then tiptoed closer to the metal door handle held firmly by Russia- all the while ignoring Germany's warning scowl.

"Whatcha gonna see in there? Aliens?" He asked as he stroked the canary blithely resting on his shoulder.

Russia wasn't about to let him get too ahead of himself.

"We probably won't see anything that we're able to notice. It could be completely unobservable, a whole world invisible to us," he explained all too smugly.

And if Prussia didn't look dejected enough, he became even more discouraged when Russia added, "Even if we could see life, my guess is nothing more than bacteria. But it's alien bacteria, and that's exciting enough."

"But not real, cool aliens," Prussia added under his breath.

America thought it best not to mention his friend from Roswell and to just get on with his count. He cleared his throat once again and held up his hand, curling his fingers as he counted down.

"Five, four, three... two... one!"

Germany dutifully flipped the switch.

Russia pushed the door open and stood aside so the others could see.

And what they all saw was not the blackness they may have been expecting. Instead, what they saw was a woodland world teeming with plant life. Not quite pitch black, but only as dark as any forest shrouded in the veil of night.

Which happened to be lit by the pale glow of countless unfamiliar plants and mushrooms, as if the forest floor wanted to mimic the starry sky above.

They were all but struck dumb by the wondrous sight. Prussia was the only one able to mumble a weak, "Well, this sure beats the hell out of aliens."

Yeah. No shit.

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Metamorphosis AU: Installment 0

Humankind is naturally a tenacious race, always having been ambitious to a fault.

In many instances, this has worked in our favor. We've advanced exponentially in the last century, making it all the way to the moon and working on interplanetary travel. Our medical advances have pushed us to have longer, more fulfilling lives.

It's easy to let our hubris fool us into thinking that we're entitled to play God as we see fit.

In a world quite like ours, humankind made similar advances in a similarly short period of time. It seemed like there was nothing they were incapable of achieving, especially when they discovered how to manipulate the force that we always called magic.

In other words, they discovered how to edit the ancient manuscript of the universe.

It didn't matter who the naysayers were, nor how many of them there were. The prospect of such an achievement as unlocking magic was far too tantalizing for the world's major figures to resist.

Of course, the consequences of interfering with the arcane were reprehensible to say the least. It was almost too much for that world to bear.

Almost.

The world and everything upon it underwent countless stark changes to make up for the scientists' heedless actions. It was a steep price to pay and there were no exemptions. After the debt had been paid in full, no outsider would ever liken it to this world by any stretch of the imagination.

That was years ago. The altered world and its remaining inhabitants serve as a reminder not to dabble in that which should not be changed by human hands.

But in another world where advancement is key, history is doomed to repeat itself. That is unless those who have previously suffered the consequences can warn their successors before it's once again too late.

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PruCan Headcanons

Matt often serves as Gilbert's impulse control since Gil can and will do stupid things when no one's looking after him.

He points out that "yolo" isn't a good excuse for someone who's sorta dead.

Gil does NOT like this being pointed out to him and he doesn't need Matthew being such a killjoy.

Conversely, Gilbert is Matt's killjoy when he's tired or otherwise out of it and coming up with his own bad ideas.

In all seriousness, they do have lots of fun together and are up for trying all sorts of different things.

Neither is a fan of very hot places, so jungle exploration is probably out. They whine and groan when the temperature is above 68°F/20°C.

Gil also hates the cold though, so there's just no pleasing him.

While in another lifetime he would stand outside, scowling and shivering because he was too proud to admit defeat to a chilly day, he now combats cold temperatures by stealing Matthew's clothes.

He's got has an awful lot of cold weather clothes for someone who tends to run hot.

They tend to end up on the floor.

Or the bed, or a chair, or anywhere that has room.

It drives Gilbert up a fucking wall.

It's what you're willing to put up with, right? Gil's more than happy to tidy up after Matthew if it means he's got tons of oversized hoodies to choose from.

He's too stubborn to say it but he also enjoys cuddling when it's cold and he can't seem to warm up otherwise.

Matthew's prone to falling asleep when they're all cozy like that, especially when Gilbert takes it upon himself to run his fingers through his curls.

Since Gilbert is always, always the one to wake up first, he also likes playing with Matthew's hair when he's still asleep.

Every year, during the summer, Matthew complains about being hot and says he'll cut all his hair off.

And every year without fail, Gilbert talks him out of it.

They're both grateful for this when autumn rolls around and the days get that crispness to them.

There's a certain tea that Matt loves in this time of year, a German one flavored with cinnamon and roasted apple. And Gilbert dutifully keeps it well stocked during the season.

Despite his best efforts to learn, Gil cannot ice skate. He ends up with a myriad of bumps and bruises whenever they go.

Or maybe he does it on purpose so Matthew dotes on him during the lessons and when he's recovering from taking so many tumbles.

A few weekends every year, they go camping deep in the wilderness and spend the night talking and stargazing.

Gilbert's favorites of Matthew's hoodies smell like wood smoke, a reflection of these trips when the campfire has all but burnt out and the remaining embers crackle and fizzle.

It reminds them both of a simpler time, and it does them good to forget the world for a while and enjoy each other's company.

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Name Headcanon: 2p England

It's convenient having a human name if you look and act like a human.

All of the personifications have had their own human name. It's only natural, and it keeps them from using any given name at random and definitely sounding like they're using a pseudonym.

Except names change as people change and as nations change. Many personifications have altered their names over the years, at least to some degree.

Oliver Kirkland is certainly no exception.

See, Oliver is a name that was introduced to the English by the French in the mid to late 11th century. It's not native to English.

Which is a bit of a problem for 2p England, considering he's has been alive since well before the Norman Conquest.

But if you traveled to before the Normans conquered England, before England was a thought in anyone's mind, Oliver had no name. He had no country as we think of it today, though you might have called him Albion. He represented a loose collection of different peoples all united by two things.

He represented the Britons, and back then they lived under the Roman Empire.

At this time, he didn't represent all the Britons, mind you. His mother takes credit for that. But Oliver was undoubtedly British himself, albeit with a healthy helping of Roman influence.

So if he did have a given name it probably would have been Brythonic, and it definitely wouldn't have been Oliver. Not yet anyway.

But he had no name, only Albion.

Britannia was always a bit of a free spirit, something she wanted to instill in her sons in spite of Rome's meddling meticulous nature. She liked the idea of waiting until her boys were old enough to choose their own names, just as she had done.

But Rome didn't like that very much. He was a strict man, never approving of such fanciful ideas. Having a bunch of unruly Celtic boys all respond to variations of Albion and Alba was too much of a hassle.

And so Quintus was the first human name to be bestowed upon 2p England.

It was plain and simple, and easy enough to remember. He was Britannia's fifth son, so you couldn't say it wasn't fitting.

But it was so dreadfully dull.

Even back then, Oliver liked celebrating his individuality. Such a plain, common name like Quintus just wouldn't do! It wasn't even that he minded having a Latin name, but he didn't want a boring Latin name at all.

So he complained.

To anyone who lent a sympathetic ear and to anyone who didn't. Rome got so sick of hearing his complaints that he eventually asked the boy if he had any better ideas.

And he did.

One of Rome's grandsons, a charming boy who went by Flavius at the time, suggested Marinus for young Albion. It was fitting but it had character, meaning of the sea.

Rome rolled his eyes at that and offered his own suggestion: Spurius. Albion didn't like it as much but it wasn't that bad, right? At least it was better than plain old Quintus.

Until Rome's youngest grandson, Lucius, gleefully informed him that the name implied he was of an illegitimate birth. A bastard.

So then Albion chose Laelius as his new name. He didn't know what it meant but it did sound so much nicer than Quintus.

And it wasn't a low-reaching insult.

It didn't last long though.

Not long into young Albion's existence, the Roman Empire fell apart. Rome and his grandsons no longer came by. It meant he was free to spend the days with his mother and all his brothers again, right?

Maybe so, if Britannia hadn't disappeared around the same time Rome did.

Suddenly Laelius didn't feel like such a good fit. Albion didn't want to honor the Romans who split his family. He wanted to honor his mother.

And so Ailill became his new name.

It was a foreign name, an Irish one. But that was okay; the way Britannia spoke of Ireland made it seem like a magical place that her spirit could happily rest in, just like how King Arthur was resting in Avalon.

To add insult to injury, Albion never did get to spend so much time with his siblings again. The loss of their mother should have brought them together but instead it may have driven them further apart.

Coincidentally, his identity as Ailill didn't last long either.

New peoples with new cultures were looking to build new lives for themselves on his island home.

They were the perfect excuse. As he grew apart from his brothers, he blamed the new settlers. They were the ones driving the Celts- and his family -further north and west.

Away from him.

The Angles and the Saxons built a myriad of kingdoms in the place they called Engelond. Ailill was drawn to them more and more; where else was he to turn?

But as his sense of identity changed yet again, this time from Britannic to Germanic, his Celtic name no longer felt fitting.

So he changed it.

Unbeknownst to his family, he was thinking of them when he changed it. Ailill meant elf, and so, feeling lonely, guilty and abandoned after the loss of his mother, he still wanted to acknowledge her as he learned to embrace his newfound Germanic indentity.

This time he was Alfher, meaning elf lord.

The Anglo-Saxons were ever so terribly fond of compound names like that.

It's hard to say which of the new kingdoms he felt most drawn to. There were seemingly countless, but there were seven big players which later consolidated into four: Mercia, Northumbria, Wessex and East Anglia.

It didn't really matter which one he felt the strongest ties to. A boy with few obligations, Alfher was free to travel between kingdoms, and he often did. They all felt so familiar; his Anglo-Saxon identity had lasted about as long as his Romano-British identity.

Albion was a figment of the mythical past. He was Engelond now. And Engelond was him.

So when the raids began and a new threat started lurking around English shores, Alfher felt defensive of the four kingdoms. Of the people who felt so decidedly his.

But he was wildly outnumbered, and he faced conquest once again. It wasn't all bad; his new Germanic status meant that these northern raiders (who often wanted to build their own towns just like the Anglo-Saxons) weren't so foreign after all. Just pushy.

In fact, if circumstances were different he may have befriended the boys who visited him during the raids, the ones who called themselves descendants of Germania.

Germania. The man who dealt the final blow to Rome. History best not repeat itself.

The northerners continued to invade, and soon they annexed most of Engelond under an arrangement they called the Danelaw. Alfher made his new home in Wessex, the sole independent kingdom.

We won't go into the details of how the only English king to earn the epithet "the great" made peace with the Danes and made great progress for the English. But before long, Alfher was able to call a united England his proud home.

But it was a tumultuous time in history, and he and England both were about to go through another radical change. One that would alter his identity yet again.

Of everyone outside his family, Alfher probably had the most in common with this instigator. They were both born Celts, both formerly Roman, and both faced a lot of conflict from the northern seafarers.

That said, people change a lot in a thousand years. Or so you'd think. He touted himself as one of Rome's grandsons and was called France instead of Gaul, but other than that he was just as grumpy as he was the first time Alfher had ever met him.

But he was older and a little more grown up now, and England wondered if he had been this interesting when they first met. Why, Alfher couldn't even bring himself to correct him when he mispronounced his name as Olivier!

Long story short, the name stuck. Even when Alfher did work up the nerve to correct France, the familiar stranger assured him that Alfher was an ugly name anyway and Olivier was far more refined.

Looks like he was French now...

It was hard to argue. After the Norman Conquest, French culture permeated just about every aspect of English life. Well more so for the nobility, but the change affected everyone to a significant degree. There were even English kings that spoke no English!

Maybe he wanted to curry favor, maybe it was just time for the change he so craves, but the English personification was only too happy to become Olivier.

It was another few hundred years before the English were well and truly English again, but Olivier never sought out another major name change. French maintained a firm grip on high society, and over the centuries England himself never knew if he was going to use the French Olivier or the English Oliver.

Funnily enough he wasn't formally decided until the 19th century, although he had been leaning towards Oliver for a number of years. It was only after the publishing of a certain book that he truly made up his mind.

Admittedly he was fond of Dickens at the time, something that's still true to today.

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2p England Headcanons

Like Arthur, Oliver loves all things otherworldly but his enthusiasm can be off-putting since he's as fascinated by fairies and unicorns as he is ghouls and demons.

He'll tell horror stories in gruesome detail with a childlike excitement, seldom realizing when he's gone too far.

The horror genre as a whole does not faze him.

At all.

But while he does like the aesthetic of cutesy mixed with grotesque, he won't keep any of it around his siblings since they're not as into graphic horror.

He prefers to go purely for cute fashion, loving soft colors. And the more frills and bows, the better.

During the Renaissance it was trendy for men to have dark hair so, wanting to mimic a certain neighbor living across the Channel, Oliver once tried dyeing his hair black.

It turned green instead.

He was utterly distraught for months afterwards, always wearing hats and bursting into tears whenever someone asked why he had cut his hair so short.

That's probably a good reason why his hair is so unkempt, because he's afraid Scotland might have to take a pair of scissors to him again.

Besides, having longer hair helps to hide his eyebrows, which is a plus to him.

He still won't dye his hair on his own; he either pays to have it done or does it with Flavio's careful guidance.

He'll do other colors from time to time, but he almost always goes for pink hair.

Oliver wants to be good at gardening but he's so disgusted by the sensation of mud that it seldom works out.

In fact, his aversion to muddy or slimy textures is precisely why he would never ever run around barefoot as a child.

As an adult, he can tolerate being barefoot on grass and on the beach but he doesn't always like it.

You'd think this would make kneading certain doughs more difficult, but as a matter of fact he loves the different textures he encounters while baking.

He packs at least five lunches for every meeting he attends.

His rationale is he needs one (obviously) and Lilian won't cook for himself and would sooner go without than eat something gross in an unfamiliar place.

And James rarely packs for himself, instead taking his chances with what he can find and usually coming up with the saddest little meals.

Allen doesn't have as much opportunity to look for food; being a vegan that travels a lot is hard!

And for the fifth meal? What if one of his friends forgets or can't find anything? He can't let them starve either!

2p England is terrified of air travel and hates using it; he would much rather drive or take trains to meetings held in Europe.

While he loves seeing new places, he still wishes sea travel was more common.

If it got him out of a plane ride, he would ride a boat to just about anywhere.

That being said, he can struggle with communication if English isn't an option.

It's just that he struggles with languages that aren't native to him, but he doesn't need words to get along with people.

With enough time and patience, he will get along with anyone.

He's surprisingly good at gesturing and interpreting other gestures until one or both parties get their point across, so language is rarely a huge barrier.

But while he is most used to English, he does know a couple other languages.

He's never been able to completely wrap his head around French or German but he is comfortable with many of the Celtic languages, especially Scots Gaelic.

And he is trying to get better at Cornish with the revitalization projects.

At home, he and the rest of the Kirkland brothers prefer to communicate in either Scots Gaelic or BSL.

They learned BSL since Wales has always been nonverbal, but in recent years he's also started using AAC apps.

When he can get away with it (between being a personified nation and flirting with a dozen different hobbies), Oliver also likes to do charity work.

It makes sense since he loves meeting people, helping out, and generally making others happy.

It's good for keeping him busy too, since he doesn't handle inactivity well but has trouble working 'traditional' jobs.

A big reason for this is because he has no filter and he's honest to a fault. And he has a massive heart.

So if someone in a position of power wants him doing something that might hurt someone? Absolutely not, and he'll give them a hundred reasons why.

Actually it's not just in professional settings; for all his kindness he never did have many close friends.

Other people think he's being insincere, but it doesn't bother him (anymore).

In fact, it's something he's working on!

Since the 1990's, he's made an effort not to be such a people pleaser. He's learning to be unapologetically himself and doesn't care what other people might think of him anymore.

Part of this has included a lot of fun self exploration, for good and for bad.

One thing he's learned is that he likes playing with clothing and makeup.

Indeed, he feels that rigid gender roles aren't for him; he likes being masculine just as much as he likes being feminine.

Sometimes he wears skirts, sometimes he wears trousers. The only consistency is that he's almost always well dressed.

And he loves his sweater vests.

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Cardverse: A Magic Inheritance Squandered

There is a previous Ace of Spades, though gone now, who is best remembered for her gift of prophecy. Indeed, her visions proved exceptionally useful to the Spadian Court.

So when she had a son, everyone expected/hoped that he might inherit a similar ability.

Only he didn't.

Magic does take on similar forms across generations, but rarely are exact abilities passed down from parent to child. In the case of one Herakles and his famous mother, the same rings true. Their abilities are similar, but not the same.

While his mother had insight into the future, Herakles is more in tune with the past; he sees glimpses of events long occurred.

But that doesn't stop anyone from hoping that he might have a tiny bit of insight towards future events. And he does, but it's so miniscule it's not worth bragging about.

Still, his mother's reputation is a heavy one to uphold and he'd really hate to disappoint her and anyone else who knew her. If he's vague in his 'prophecies' and sells it well, he could be just as entertaining as any fortune teller.

This satisfies the Spadian Court, for a while. Jack Yao remembers his mother fondly and clings to the hope that her abilities live on in him, if deeply buried. It's far easier selling his bogus fortunes to the king; he's nice enough but seriously gullible.

The queen is less easily convinced, but Queen Arthur is a proud skeptic. That, and he has friends deeply interested in all studies of magic. Herakles couldn't hope to fool him, especially as one of his friends is a fortune teller himself. A real one.

At least Queen Arthur is nice enough to let him humor the Spadian Court. It wouldn't do well to create a big fuss.

So one day, when the king summons the Ten of Spades for a quick prophecy, the queen doesn't object. All Herakles has to do is act all mysterious and say something ambiguous and King Alfred will be perfectly satisfied.

Time to get to work.

"What do you think? I'm worrying for nothing, right?" The king asks the Ten of Spades, who holds his hand and hums with his eyes closed as if interpreting the will of the divine.

Herakles pauses. He opens his eyes and gives the king a frown as he releases his hand. He looks first to Jack Yao beside him, then the doubtful Queen Arthur.

"I see...a disturbing amount of updog clouding your future, Your Highness," he says softly, almost imperceptibly.

The King bites his lip and shuffles forward in his seat. This was not the good news he was hoping to hear.

"What's- What's updog?"

Herakles takes a deep breath, glancing up at the intricately decorated ceiling above before meeting King Alfred's concerned gaze.

"Not much, dog. What's up with you?"

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America Headcanons

When it was popular to hate on Comic Sans, he started using it for everything as a joke and was surprised to find that reading was suddenly a little easier.

Reading has always been hard for him and literature was never his forte.

He hated the days everyone wrote in cursive and now he refuses to use it unless he has to sign something.

As such, he gives Russia shit for writing in cursive all the time because of how scary Cyrillic cursive looks. Surely there's no way people actually read that.

America says, as if his own illegible handwriting can be described as anything other than chicken scratch.

Because of his messy handwriting and his struggles with language, England assumed he wasn't very bright. It caused resentment for both of them.

England underestimated him by never teaching him higher math, but how was he supposed to know America would excel at something that everyone says is difficult??

America is actually a total nerd, give him anything STEM (science, technology, engineering and math) related and he will devour it.

He doesn't like making people feel dumb (unlike England it seems), so he doesn't share his interests very much or he keeps it on a superficial level so he doesn't overwhelm others.

It's a big part of the reason he acts so clueless, since people tend to treat him like he's stupid no matter if he's giving all his effort or none at all.

If he acts like he doesn't know what's going on and people give him a chance, everyone's pleasantly surprised. If not, no one's surprised and no one's feelings are badly hurt.

That's not to say he doesn't have struggles and simply hides his perfection behind a clumsy persona.

He is unintentionally quite blunt and tends to overanalyze the situation before him, so he's never entirely sure of what the "right" move is in any given situation.

He also has a hard time moderating his volume so he genuinely doesn't notice when he begins shouting.

It's partly because he's uncomfortable if there's not a lot of things going on all at once. Essentially, he thrives in chaos and becomes uneasy if things start getting too quiet.

This leads to thrill seeking tendencies, so America loves seeking out and trying new things no matter how scary they seem. In fact, the more terrifying, the better!

Amusement parks are a big hit because of this.

So is trying new and 'exotic' foods, though he has to be in the right mood for it. And it's better if he has a friend with him to show him the ropes. It's always better with friends.

But sometimes, he does like it when it's on the quieter side and he has time to himself. Especially on days he's feeling overwhelmed, it's nice to curl up in his blankets with a warm drink and binge his favorite classic movies.

It's not something he often indulges in anymore but he loves the old black and white movies. There's a certain comfort in them and the nostalgia they bring.

He misses the transatlantic accent, which he can still do flawlessly (and usually does whenever he feels like it).

Speaking of accents and language, he can hold at least a basic conversation in a number of other languages due to his pride in being a cultural 'melting pot'.

He is most comfortable with Spanish, Mandarin and German (though his German could use a little work).

Most if not all nations are polyglots just because of their nature and dealing with others of their kind, but America still considers himself special in this regard.

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Cardverse: The Obstinate Queens of Spades

It's no secret that the Kingdom of Spades has a rather high number of former citizens that have yet to move on into the afterlife. It seems that every Spadian town has their own ghost story to tell, and even the palace where the court resides has no shortage of alleged hauntings.

Before he was coronated, before he came to the palace, Arthur heard stories about the ghosts that are said to reside there and he could tell you about every one of them. He never really grew out of the excitement he felt as a child, especially since his raw magic power is some of the most impressive that Spades has seen in recent history. It's only normal that he felt as connected to the supernatural as he did the natural.

Only it wasn't that easy to have that connection once he did come to the palace.

It would have helped if someone had informed him beforehand that he never would be sleeping in the traditional queen's chamber. That for almost two centuries a former Queen of Spades had refused to give it up.

Maybe the Jack of Spades thought that Arthur would have been more agreeable if this issue was only explained to him once he arrived at the palace. Maybe Yao believed Arthur wouldn't care enough to make a fuss.

No one should have ever underestimated Arthur's tenacity.

Technically he wasn't queen yet when he decided to move into the queen's chamber. Technically he was only a prince at the time, so he'll admit that was his fault. But the old queen didn't need to be such a prick.

It seems like Arthur was the only one to get any sleep that night. That, or he was simply pretending because his pride wouldn't let him admit defeat. No one else was able to sleep through the old queen's 9 hour long tirade about how he was being so grossly disrespected both in life and in death.

And the real kicker was that the old queen never had to pause for breath. You know, on account of being dead and buried for well over a hundred years.

But damn it if Arthur wasn't going to give him a run for his money.

It was fun to ignore the old queen for a whole night, but come the second night in the castle and Arthur was a little too tired and cranky to do it again. So once the former Queen of Spades started complaining about wanting his bed back, Arthur went off on him.

Growing up in such a loud household served him well. The queen's chamber was his by birthright, something he fought with the old queen over for hours.

The Jack of Spades didn't dare interrupt. The late queen, while fairly harmless, was used to getting his way. Yao didn't like giving in, but experience taught him that he had to pick his battles. Something the haughty Prince Arthur would have to learn.

Except he never did give in. Neither queen did, but the two were able to come to a truce and share the room amicably enough.

Better than that, they learned to get along! Not well; the two are polar opposites, but they did become more than acquaintances. Arthur is happy he gets to do his duty in relative peace, and the late queen is thrilled to feel so important. He is, after all, Arthur's informal advisor.

There are still occasional hiccups from time to time. Arthur's a fan of his quiet time, something he doesn't get much of, and on the other hand the late queen often feels he doesn't get the attention he deserves.

It causes some rifts between them, but goodness knows they know how to speak their minds and communicate their needs. They work it out, and for all others in the castle, there's no doubt that they are the most stubborn inhabitants there, if not in the whole of the Kingdom of Spades.

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RusAme Headcanons

(for when you're in the dreary dead of winter and need some warmth and tenderness)

Most of their relationship is Alfred ranting about something he's excited about and Ivan patiently listening and occasionally throwing in a "that's very nice, Fedya" so he sounds supportive.

Ivan wonders if Alfred actually needs to breathe considering how much of a chatterbox he is.

One time Ivan did not give any sort of verbal feedback to show he was listening and just let Al prattle on about whatever it was that piqued his interest.

He knitted a whole hat before Alfred realized he was the only one talking.

It wasn't to be mean! Only Alfred gets so easily excited and wants to share that joy, and Ivan thinks it's cute that he gets so carried away.

Ivan actually handles a lot of the domestic duties for that very reason.

Picture the two of them in the kitchen, Ivan putting together a hot, comforting dinner for them while Alfred keeps him company and talks about his day.

Sometimes they do get equally excited, depending on what that topic is.

One is stars. The space race may be a distant memory but neither one has lost interest in astronomy.

They've gone on road trips to rural places to see a night sky untarnished by light pollution.

They learn a lot about each other on these trips into the deep wilderness.

For example Alfred learned that Ivan does not like those freeze dried meals you reconstitute with water.

Since it was clear he wasn't eating some freeze dried chicken salad abomination, Ivan dragged Alfred along and taught him everything about foraging for mushrooms and other edible wild plants.

They both have deep knowledge like that on a wide variety of subjects.

And they can have some really heated discussions on just about anything.

It's always refreshing since Ivan isn't all the way to a scholar but is certainly the 'learned' type, whereas Alfred develops new interests and becomes an amateur expert within a week or so.

And.

You just know.

Chess is a very big deal between the two of them.

Both of them are so skilled at the game that they don't need a board. They're the type of ultra cerebral assholes that could chat while mentally playing against each other, much to the chagrin of the others.

Ivan's had a very long time to read about all the masters and study all the important games. He is methodical in his approach and takes some time to make his move (when the game is not timed).

Al on the other hand is a more impulsive player. It's not that he doesn't think things through, only that he's not going to waste time exploring every possible outcome. And he's so damn good that Ivan can't be mad at him for being reckless.

A lot of their relationship is like that. Alfred pokes fun whenever Ivan gets stuck in his ways, and Ivan tenderly reminds Alfred that he's immature and inexperienced.

It looks like they bicker a lot (and they certainly used to) but teasing each other is how they show they're comfortable nowadays.

In addition to poking fun at his partner, Ivan has a bad habit of fretting over Alfred's wellbeing.

Especially when it's cold.

Ivan will layer Alfred in coats and thick mittens and a hat and insulated boots and fleece lined pants until he looks like a marshmallow.

He also knits him a new hat every year.

Similarly Alfred is the king of comfort food so whenever Ivan's feeling down Al will make all these cozy meals for him and buy him all his favorite candies.

Touch is a big love language for both of them so nights in usually involve movie marathons and plenty of cuddling.

It's not unusual for them to fall asleep on top of each other on the couch on nights like that, awkward as it is with both of them being so big.

But one thing's for certain, and that's after that whoever wakes up first always makes pancakes for the other so they can spend a lazy, indulgent morning with the man they love.

[firo-archive]

Cardverse: An Introduction to the Kingdoms

Four suits. Four kingdoms that are named after them. The jokers don't have their own nation per se but they do have some land that counts as theirs because it would just be too big of a hassle for the other kingdoms to go out and claim it. Besides, going to places that they're known to linger in is sure to bring misfortune.

There's always two of them. The Red Joker is always from Hearts or Diamonds; the Black Joker is always from Clubs or Spades. Right now, the Red Joker is a Heartian prince and the Black Joker is a Spadian prince. It's said that joker magic seeks out royal blood when looking for its next cardholders.

To introduce the various kingdoms, let's first begin with the Kingdom of Diamonds. It's a rich country with even richer soil; all sorts of precious stones can be mined in Diamant lands and nearly every sort of plant can be grown there.

The Diamant people have a brilliant zest for life. The cuisine is often rich and heavy on the spices and you wouldn't want to miss it for the world. It's a land of luxury but its people remain friendly and down to earth.

Diamonds' old friend and rival is the land of ingenuity, the Kingdom of Spades. Initially it established its wealth via the production of the world's finest textiles, but it was the work of countless Spadian inventors who solidified Spades' position as the most technologically advanced country.

In a word, Spades is understated. Sure it's futuristic compared to the other kingdoms, but its elegance comes from its modesty. The Spadians are second only to Clubs in regards to their respect for tradition. That being said, they do take great pride in their festivals, of which they have many.

Next is the Kingdom of Hearts, from which many Spadians (including the King and Queen) can trace their lineage. This is due to near-ancient Heartian strife, but nowadays it's probably the safest and most peaceful kingdom in the World of Cards.

In spite of Hearts' tumultuous history, it is a kingdom best known for its friendliness and hospitality, especially towards visitors. The Heartians are hard workers that take pride in their craftsmanship. Hearts has some of the best artists and tradesmen in the world.

Last but not least is the Kingdom of Clubs. It's mostly rural and people here prefer to do things the old fashioned way. Just because they respect tradition, don't underestimate the Clovians. The people themselves are the source of Clubs' strength.

Clubs is probably best known for its fine folk music and dance but that's not all they're limited to. The Clovians are also talented with language, weaving words as effortlessly as they weave elaborate designs into their clothes. They are poets, authors, and their folk tales are known and praised worldwide.

All this to say that the World of Cards, like our world, is a magical place full of countless cultures. We can break it down into simple, easy to digest pieces but at the end of the day, such simplifications don't do all these splendid cultures justice.

Whet your palate and see what you like but by all means, don't stop there. Complete awe and utter fascination can come from the most unexpected places.

[firo-archive]

Cardverse: The Well at the Center of the World

For as long as there has been a world of cards vivified, there have been those who are leery towards the Jokers. In part it's because they don't quite fit in any one kingdom, but it's also because the superstitious heed the warnings passed down to them through centuries of cautionary tales.

But the source of all this superstition, like the source of all the world's magic, lies at the bottom of a well. And this well, as luck would have it, lies in the very center of the Jokers' domain.

This land doesn't belong to the Jokers in the same way the other lands belong to the kingdoms. They just get the leftovers.

For the Jokers, the different kingdoms noticed how unpredictable magic becomes the closer someone gets to the well so the closest lands have been strictly off limits to non magic users for ages. Magic users are allowed in the Jokers' domain but are urged to take extreme caution.

Seems a little backwards, right? Not quite.

Since they have none of their own, non magic users are horribly sensitive to all forms of magic. Going to a place with such high concentrations of magic is inviting danger with open arms.

With no natural resistance, magic often takes a toll. It both mentally and physically changes them. For those non magic users who are consumed by strong negative emotions like wrath and contempt, the ambient magic will quite literally turn them into monsters.

Nowhere is this effect stronger than at the area immediately surrounding the well. Here, even the most powerful magicians are not guaranteed their safety. Only the jokers are completely immune to this phenomenon.

So why would anyone want to go to such a place, you might ask?

For the most part, they don't. Sometimes, in times of war, cards from differing kingdoms will go there to discuss peace- using the Jokers as mediators.

Still a legend persists.

If someone whose heart is pure seeks help or guidance for a cause that is truly good and worthy, then they will find the answers they need. These answers lie at the very bottom of the well.

That person in need offers themselves to that well, to the world's origin and the source of all its magic, and in return the world will offer itself to that person.

But their cause must be a just one.

In ancient times there were plenty who thought themselves worthy of the world's help. Corrupt rulers that wanted everything for themselves, revolutionaries that sought to uproot order, individuals of every kind that were consumed with ill desires all offered themselves up to that well in the name of power or advancement.

Many were never seen again. Those who did crawl out again were no longer anything even remotely recognizable as human.

Interest in the well faded to relative obscurity as technology advanced. The Jokers, once seen as respected guardians of magic, are now seen as irresponsible scoundrels that plague the land. A fairy tale like that was simply a reminder to never trust the Jokers.

But if there was someone out there who was pure enough of heart for the world to want to help, what would happen? It's hard to say for sure but one thing is certain: they would go down in history as a sort of mythical hero, not unlike King Arthur in our own world.

But until that happens, it's probably best to stay away from that place. Oftentimes it's more trouble than it's worth, especially with meddling Jokers always watching outsiders from places unseen.

[firo-archive]

2p Canada: ever the outdoorsman

It should go without saying that James has always been a fan of the great outdoors. It's quiet out there. There's hardly any people and there's wild animals to observe and occasionally befriend. What's not for him to love out there?

It doesn't help that he spent nearly all his time outside before Lilian took him in...and then James took to running away. It's not like his intention was to misbehave, only that he liked it so much better when he was outside.

His running away did eventually come to a stop once he was sent to live with Oliver. It was nice to have a brother around his age, although with all the antics he and Allen got up to (all Allen's idea naturally) it's just about miraculous that Oliver's hair didn't go grey.

And then, well, it's hardly worth mentioning how that all came to an abrupt halt.

That house was all but unbearable once Allen left. Oliver couldn't hide his feelings to save his own life so once it was just the two of them, staying home with all that despair hanging in the air was all but impossible.

So once again James took to the woods.

He could stay out longer this time, having more freedoms now that he was older. This time he spent out there didn't go to waste. He was much better at looking after himself this time around and once Oliver went back to Europe to sort out everything happening there at the time, there wasn't much to stop James from staying out as much as he liked.

And that's exactly what he did. First for days, weeks, then months and years.

It wasn't like he ever got lonely out there. He did run into someone else once every great while, but his preferred company came in the form of a certain bear that he grew close to in his early childhood.

Occasionally the pair travelled. There was a lot of wilderness for them to see. But mostly they stayed close enough to home, just barely at the fringes of civilization where it was always easy for them to disappear.

Not much changed in the couple of centuries that followed. The world became smaller and people became more closely connected but somehow James was always more or less able to stay out of it. Even now, he prefers a longer commute back to the rest of the world if it means he's able to live in the peace and quiet that nature provides.

[firo-archive]

Hetealia: The Characters As Kinds Of Tea

Italy: an herbal blend of rosehip, apple, strawberry and hibiscus

Romano: a spicy ginger tea with lemon and honeycomb

Germany: a rich black tea flavored with vanilla bean and sweet almond

Prussia: a white tea with peppermint leaves, cacao shells and cinnamon

Japan: a peppery green tea complemented with cherry blossoms

England: an earl grey with rich bergamot and lavender blossoms

France: a delicate white tea with rose petals

America: a sweet herbal peach tea with lemon and rosehips

Canada: a roasted apple herbal tea topped off with cinnamon, clove and allspice

Russia: a vanilla macaron flavored black tea

Belarus: a bitter black currant tea with just the right amount of honey stirred in

Ukraine: a deliciously vibrant herbal blend of tart raspberries and hibiscus

China: a fragrant green tea with plum

South Korea: an herbal hibiscus tea with pineapple and lychee

Spain: a rum flavored black tea with orange peel and clove

Portugal: a black tea with rich chocolate notes and a hint of sweetness

[firo-archive]

Cardverse: Two Princes, Brothers Separated

It's rotten luck to have joker blood running through your veins. It's hardly better than a curse. No one knows what exactly causes magic blood to turn to joker blood, but it's best not to think about it.

Especially not if you're a royal. It's best to move on and pretend they don't exist.

It's not the jokers' fault. Not really. They're just vagabonds with a penchant for mischief, but you still wouldn't want to get too close. It's their magic that you don't want rubbing off on you. It's stifling, corrupting. It makes even the most disciplined mages lose their way. All for a little more power.

It's why the royals are officially unwelcoming towards the jokers (despite rumors about the King of Diamonds hosting such company). They know just how easily the scales can tip.

But the King of Hearts has never had much interest in the jokers. They're harmless. One of them is only a child, and while the other has certainly forged a reputation for himself, he doesn't seem to be that bad. A little reckless maybe, but not dangerous.

But if you only heard the things that reckless joker says about the King of Hearts.

King Ludwig is stuck up. He's self-centered and only serves himself. He only acts like a good king. The people only like him because of his work ethic. He's awful behind closed doors. The joker, Gilbert is his name, speaks with so much conviction, you'd think he knows the king personally.

He doesn't, not really. But he might as well, because he remembers. He remembers that he was born a prince. And he remembers that he was cast out for a bit of bad blood.

His grandfather tried to make things right. How was he supposed to explain to Gilbert that he, a mere boy at the time, was seen as cursed? That he would never be welcome as a Prince of Hearts, much less the king? Gil couldn't fault the him for coming out and visiting. The two had good memories.

Until the day the old man never came back.

Gilbert was going to meet his little brother on that next visit, provided he was up for it. So he waited. And waited. But he never did see his grandfather again or meet his kid brother.

On the other hand, Ludwig doesn't remember much of his grandfather, and he hardly knows anything about him. Or his family, for that matter. He never met his parents and he was always told that his only sibling, an elder brother, was stillborn.

He supposes that's the reason why he can't bring himself to rearrange his grandfather's old study, as dated as it is. There's comfort in seeing his things still there, giving the young king a sense of familiarity while he works.

Until he comes across a small portrait of a little boy smiling a wide, mischievous grin.

It's not anyone King Ludwig knows, and so his curiosity eats away at him. It's not until he receives a name from a hesitant cousin in Clubs that the pieces start falling into place.

The boy's name, according to his Clovian cousin Roderich, is Gilbert. And if Ludwig's memory serves him right, that's the same name as the joker that likes causing trouble.

It's easy enough to dismiss it as coincidence. Or it would be, if it wasn't painfully obvious that Roderich was hiding something.

See, it's no secret that the Kingdom of Clubs has the worst relationship with the jokers. All the face cards there have complained about them, and King Ivan in particular pokes fun at Ludwig as if it's his fault. How is the King of Hearts supposed to know that Roderich has been omitting details for their benefit?

It's not like no royal has ever been related to a joker. The anomaly only occurs in families with magical blood, so of course jokers have been born into royalty. A prime example is the little brother of the Queen of Spades. They bear such a strong resemblance that Queen Arthur could never deny their relation even if he wanted to.

It doesn't hurt Spades to have a joker prince because things have always been a little tense been them and Clubs. But Hearts and Clubs have historically been close. And with Gilbert causing such trouble for the King and Queen of Clubs, it's no wonder Roderich has been so tight-lipped both for his sake and the sake of his Heartian cousin.

But Ludwig is smart. Smart enough to put the pieces together. King Ivan's teasing. The other royals' unease whenever the jokers are mentioned in front of him. Roderich's guilt and reluctance to say anything. The portrait of that little boy silently mocks him, as if he knows something the king doesn't.

He can't always focus on that mystery though. His nation comes first, and right now diplomacy is taking him to the Kingdom of Spades. It's not his favorite place. It's rainy and when Spades is in a state of unrest, so too are its former inhabitants.

Of course, the Spadians themselves are used to it. Ghost stories are a part of their identity and there's a certain sense of pride they take in the occult. But for those with skeletons in their closet, Spades has a funny way of bringing those unwanted secrets to light.

Being haunted by ghosts of the past doesn't necessarily have to be so literal.

It's a cold, dark night once he gets settled in in the foreign kingdom, and the rain might have provided a nice ambient sound if not for the incessantly howling wind and roaring thunder. Ludwig knows he won't be getting any sleep, so he takes to wandering the halls.

And they say the jokers aren't officially welcome in any of the four kingdoms, but it's not so easy when it's a dark and stormy night and one of the jokers is a Spadian prince by birth. Just as Queen Arthur can't send his little brother off into such a tempest, Gilbert isn't going to leave the kid alone either, even if he never did care much for the Spadian palace.

All the same, the place gives him the creeps. He figures he won't be sleeping much anyway, so he decides to look at the the old place and wonder what life in the Heartian castle would have been like. It's enjoyable enough until he has the distinct notion that he's being followed.

Fuck. That.

He's not in the mood to be followed by creepy ghost guards or questioned as to why he's lurking around the Spadian palace in the dead of night, so he takes off. But it's dark, and the hulking guy coming after him is fast. Gilbert only just manages to dart into a spare room and close the door behind him.

Somehow, Ludwig just barely manages to keep pace with the shadowy figure clad in black. If it is one of Spade's former residents, then maybe he shouldn't follow, but if it's not, then whoever it is is highly suspicious. It's clearly not a servant. A criminal, maybe? He intends to find out.

He approaches the closed door where the figure hid and stands in front of it, pausing. Thinking. Is it possible for the other to be armed? Ludwig didn't recall seeing any sort of weapon, but it's best not to start a skirmish in a foreign country in the middle of the night. He extends a hand forward and knocks, using the same rhythm that his grandfather did to let him know he was going to come in.

And the person on the other side of the door answers with the rhythm Ludwig would always do in return.

The king can't stand it. He throws open the door, half-expecting to see his grandfather on the other side. What he does not expect is a grown up looking version of the little boy his grandfather kept a painting of.

The two stare at each other for several moments, their faces plastered with identical expressions of confusion. Gilbert's mind reels with questions, namely, why does his stuck up little brother look almost relieved to see him there? Shouldn't he be the first to slam the door in the exiled prince's face?

He doesn't have time for this. Obviously Ludwig thinks little of him, otherwise he wouldn't have waited 20 years to reach out. There's no use second guessing what he already knows.

Or is there?

No. He should go check on Peter, the other joker, and make sure the thunderstorm isn't scaring him. The two should be making preparations to leave first thing in the morning if the Hearts delegation is going to be in Spades.

Problem is, his kid brother isn't much of a kid anymore and is blocking the entire doorway. Gilbert couldn't leave if he wanted to. As he searches for a way to escape the room and take off running, the King of Hearts places a hand on his shoulder and stares down at him.

For the first time in almost 15 years, Gilbert feels he should be expecting a lecture from his grandfather. Damn, it turns out his brother really takes after the old man.

Ludwig accepts the stranger's guilty stance and fleeting gaze as all the evidence he needs to confirm his theory. The pieces have all fallen into place.

His older brother, not dead. Never was but instead a meddlesome joker.

"Gilbert," he says quietly, the name peculiar on his tongue almost as if he shouldn't be saying it.

The joker scoffs, then puts on a smile and replies, "Ludwig."

It catches the king off guard to be spoken to so casually by someone he doesn't know, but the night is still young and the two have plenty of catching up to do. They're brothers before they're anything else. Tradition and formalities can wait.

[firo-archive]

United Kingdom Brothers Headcanons

(to celebrate their long-awaited debut)

They all live together and there's not a single moment of peace in that damn house. Never has been, never will be.

This is because Wales is the only normal one. Or at least the most convincingly normal one.

The other three (yes including England) are completely feral.

Scotland sometimes wakes England up by playing the bagpipes, especially when he's holding a grudge or feels like putting the fear of God into him. Northern Ireland is used to it by now and Wales just sleeps through it.

North will pay for Scotland to wake England with bagpipes whenever important meetings are scheduled as long as he gets to request the song.

Yes it's mostly North and Scotland's fault the Kirkland residence will never know peace and quiet.

Mostly.

No one's ever going to forgive and forget England's punk phase.

Electric guitar at 3 in the morning.

And they like letting him know just how ridiculous they thought he looked.

"It'S nOT a pHasE iT's wHo I aM"

They've forbidden each other from trying to decide who's the oldest because it will never end well. The only agreement they can come to is that England is the youngest.

He has tried to argue this but the others just don't listen to him. He's given up trying to prove his point because he'll be babied otherwise.

Wales calls him his baby brother no matter what he does. But he's sincere. When Scotland does it, it's usually to mock England.

Oh and heaven forbid they ever run low on anything. Say it's a box of tea about to run out.

Wales will leave a single teabag so that they're not technically out. England and Scotland will both take the last teabag, but only England has the decency to throw the empty box away. Scotland is guilty of giving his brothers false hope by leaving an empty box behind. North is the only one to consistently replace things that he finishes.

None of them are gourmands by any stretch of the imagination, but they all have their strengths in the kitchen.

North is the best at cooking, so it's usually his job to put something together for the four of them.

Scotland likes to see what can and cannot be deep fried or made into a pie.

England has his pastries of course, but he's not allowed to cook for them unless the other three have been somehow incapacitated.

Wales isn't too bad at cooking either and his puddings are his specialty.

Between England and Wales, the UK residence has no shortage of blankets. It's impossible to be anything but warm and cozy here.

England will on occasion knit jumpers for his brothers. It's only because he feels obligated to do nice things for them, damn it!

Same goes for Scotland. When he tucks England in after he falls asleep at his desk, it's only because he as the big brother feels pressured to take care of him. Obviously.

When Scotland is responsible for tucking England in, he doesn't play the bagpipes. He's not that cruel.

Wales thought he was being sneaky when he managed to smuggle a dragon into the house. Turns out it's pretty hard to hide a whole dragon in your room, and his brothers just pretend not to know.

Their house has an immaculate garden which is no stranger to magical visitors whom they do their best to welcome.

Although he will wear them to meetings or other events where he doesn't have a choice, Scotland does not willingly wear trousers. He will either wear shorts or a kilt, thank you.

And you wouldn't believe all the checked prints that have made it into that house. You'd think they were opening their own tartan shop.

They have a rule that they're not allowed to hex each other. No one follows it.

The four of them are always putting up with inconvenient, albeit minor curses that they cast on each other.

[firo-archive]

Name Headcanon: Kugelmugel

There's a lot of discourse on human names for the characters. A lot. This isn't a bad thing. It's fascinating to see all the names that people come up with for all the characters since they provide insight into cultures from all over the world.

I just wanted to preface this by saying that my take is no more or less valid than anyone else's. And actually, I'd love to hear other people's headcanons, not just with Kugel, but for any of the characters.

So let's get into it.

My take. One out of many.

I should probably start by saying that I also have the headcanon that Kugelmugel is nonbinary so I'll be using they/them pronouns for this post (and probably any other posts involving Kugel). As such I wanted to look for names that either were unisex or could be made so.

Like Hanne.

It's a name that can stand on its own, or it's a short form of Johannes or Johanna (or other similar names). But considering they're amab, I'd like to propose that Kugelmugel's human name is Hanne, short for Johannes.

And since they're under Austria's charge and the two are almost certainly related (they do share a strong resemblance, hair color aside), it only makes sense for Kugelmugel to take Austria's surname, right?

So there it is. Hanne Edelstein.

Personally I think it's fitting and I like that name for Kugel. But you probably figured as much. Otherwise, why go to the trouble of posting?