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whalemiraculousau · 2 years

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Miraculous OC: Carlotta Suero-Dupain

So Carlotta was formerly known as María, but she’s changed a bit since I first created her and I love her dearly and want to show her off to all of you. Self-made blorbo. This is basically an edited post of the one I did a year or so ago. This post got realllly long hence the readmore.

Description:

As Carlotta:

Carlotta Estrella Suero-Dupain got the Dupain height; she’s 5′11 with waist-length dark brown wavy hair with shorter curls around her face that is always very well-kept. She has very naturally tanned brown skin and is covered in freckles from head to toe. She’s curvy and has toned calves and biceps; she’s an excellent swimmer and got her scuba-diving certificate as soon as she could. Her eyes are dark brown with blue flecks, giving them a violet appearance in certain lighting.

She’s covered in scars from various old injuries and treats them like a badge of honour. Everyone always focusses on the massive scar-tissue patches on her forearms, shins, and stomach (road rash from a skateboarding accident), but she insists they’re the least cool ones. Her favourites are a massive scar on her chest running from her left collarbone to the top of her ribcage and a similar one on the back of her right thigh (both from fishing accidents), one on her left cheek (from being hit in the face with a broken jellyfish tentacle), and one stretching from her right shoulder down to her ribcage (from a much much worse skateboarding accident). Carlotta is visually disabled - the same accident that caused the scar on her shoulder and ribs also caused her to lose chunks of her visual field due to head trauma. She occasionally uses a sight cane on bad days, but she’s stupid levels of stoic and won’t admit how bad it sometimes gets.

She dresses almost exclusively in crop tops, knee-length cargo shorts, and red converse. Her favourite top is a purple off-the-shoulder top with fishnet sleeves and a fishnet underlayer, and a whale-shaped appliqué on the front. She always wears stripy knee socks. She has piercings in her right eyebrow, the left side of her nose, her tongue, and her belly button, and often wears sparkly earrings. Her Miraculous is a hairslide that is slightly S-shaped and decorated with five black gems.

As Cachalotte:

Her hair is up in a high ponytail with a white ribbon that sticks up like a whale spout. She has a single purple highlight, and her ponytail is tied near the bottom so the end splits like a whale tail. Her mask extends down over her cheeks to hide her scar; it’s grey with a black stripe across the top and black eyelids.

She wears a black leotard with attached gloves, silver fishnet tights, and black thigh-high boots with purple soles. On top she wears a grey sleeveless zippered vest with a long coattail that ends in a whale tail; it has purple lining and the bodice is decorated with two thin white stripes and a purple double-looped belt. She also has small purple shoulder pads styled to look like Sperm Whale fins and doubling as extra armour.

Cachalotte’s Miraculous is pretty much the same as when she’s detransformed, except the gems turn purple. It’s S-shaped to resemble a sperm-whale’s blowhole. The irises of her eyes also turn fully purple to help disguise her. The Whale Miraculous weapon is a grappling gun that can be attached to her belt - but Cachalotta rarely uses it in a fight besides to move around the battlefield, preferring to use her size and strength in a fight as opposed to any weaponry. It matches her costume, with a fin-styled purple handle, a grey gun with white stripes, and a silver grappling hook that, like Ladybug’s yoyo and Vesperia’s spinning top, has an infinitely long and unbreakable string.

Personality:

Carlotta is deeply caring about those important to her; she would throw herself in harm’s way to protect her loved ones without a second thought. She doesn’t tend towards thinking things through; she is wild and impulsive and stubborn, and only thinks about the immediate future rather than any consequences. In spite of her caring nature she can be extremely selfish on occasion.

She gets along well with most people; she’s good at making stories funnier than they actually were (even if they’re disgusting) and has a very infectious laugh. Despite coming from a fairly wealthy family (they have a yacht) she’s grown to dislike ostentatious shows of wealth, largely from interacting with Chloé Bourgeois, and her only real personal splurges are a nice skateboard (she loves skating) and her beloved purple electric violin.

Carlotta is Marinette’s paternal cousin - the daughter of Tom’s younger sister, Vivienne Dupain, who left home when Roland refused to accept her choosing a scientific major (cetology and anatomy) over working in the bakery, and the final nail in the coffin was her relationship with fellow cetologist Juan-Miguel Suero (Carlotta’s father). They’ve started to get back in touch following Marinette reaching out to Roland, but the relationship is still rocky. Carlotta is the oldest of four; she has two younger sisters and a younger brother. Geneviéve and Juan-Miguel Jr. (“Juanito”) are fraternal twins four years younger than Carlotta, while Victoire is thirteen years younger than Carlotta. All four are as whale-mad as their parents are.

Carlotta’s fatal flaw is her single-mindedness; when she’s set her mind to something she’ll go through hell to get it with no regard to her personal safety or often the feelings of others. As Cachalotte, she started out as a bit of a Dark Knight: a protector in shadow, who tries to work behind the scenes to reach justice - unfortunately, she was oblivious to City Justice and Law Justice, and more concerned with settling personal scores. Then after a few incidents involving some classmates, Marinette clocked onto her identity and told her to cut out her bullshit or she would personally hand the Whale Miraculous back to the Guardians. Since then, Cachalotte has aided Ladybug and Chat Noir when she thinks they need it, and approaches battles with her normal singlemindedness that becomes utter focus on the situation at hand.

The Guardians have yet to try and retrieve the Whale Miraculous; they believe it to be lost forever at sea. The truth is, a thousand years ago the previous wielder drowned, and the Miraculous became lodged in a living Sperm Whale’s tooth. The Miraculous unintentionally caused the whale wild longevity until it became dislodged a few months ago, and the whale beached in England. Carlotta’s father, as one of the leading cetologists involved in the unbelievable discovery of the thousand-year-old whale, sent it to Carlotta as a gift, not realising what it was.

Powers and Abilities:

As Carlotta:

Carlotta is fairly powerfully built for a girl; while she’s no professional weightlifter she can hold her own in a fight against even a faster or more agile opponent. Being a sibling has taught her to wait for the moment to strike to deliver the most powerful blow. She’s also sharp-minded and good with noticing and remembering details in stories, personalities, and habits (actual visual details, not so much) (it’s the Dupain ADHD) (her special interest is cetology, the study of whales).

She’s deeply informed on cetology, top of the class at general biology, and pretty good at motion physics. In fact, there are few school subjects besides chemistry that Carlotta doesn’t excel at. When it comes to sports, she’s an amazing swimmer and diver, beyond average at strength sports, above average at gymnastics, and a fast runner. (But she falls apart at sports that require good aim or precision such as basketball or fencing.) She’s also a very good skateboarder, and regularly terrifies people with stunts she’s practised so often they’re practically second nature. Since the skateboarding accident that caused her partial loss of vision, Carlotta has started learning to read Braille.

Carlotta, as mentioned above, plays the violin - she’s extremely accomplished, helped by being lucky enough to have natural perfect pitch. Lizzy Starling (Miracuverse!Lindsey Stirling) is her musical idol. She can play entirely by finger-memory, and will jam along with anyone playing any other instrument nearby.

As Cachalotte:

Carlotta’s strength, flexibility, agility and speed are upgraded, like all Miraculous wielders. Her style of fighting is similar to her civilian style - fists, kicks, and waiting for the right moment to strike. She prefers to dodge an attack rather than deflect it.

Special Ability: “CODA!”

The Whale Miraculous grants the power of Echolocation. To use it, the user must think of what they wish to find in the fight - the weak point, the area their opponent will be next, their opponent’s power source - even the best path for the user to use themselves. In use, the user’s eyes glow bright purple and they see the thing they want to find highlighted in purple light, invisible to anyone else. The glow only appears for ten seconds maximum, and at its weakest (if the user is badly injured or as an adult after multiple uses) only three seconds.

Whale Add-Ons:

Qualities unique to the Whale Miraculous include mega-upgraded pain tolerance and resistance to air/water/magic pressure. Carlotta wondered if it would fix her damaged eyesight, but it gave her something even better: the ability to view her surroundings through sound, the way whales do. That’s not to say her damaged vision doesn’t make it hard to Hero sometimes - but she’s happy enough with things the way they are, because Klikk the Whale Kwami gave her the one thing she never thought she’d get - the ability to see the world from a whale’s perspective.

Klikk

Carlotta’s beloved sperm-whale Kwami companion. Klikk is rather mischievous, and can tend to encourage some of Carlotta’s more reckless behaviour (like, um, the time Cachalotte ran headfirst at a brick wall to see if she could leave a human-shaped hole like in a cartoon) (spoiler alert: she couldn’t and broke her nose) (which made Carlotta very glad she did it as Cachalotte and not as Carlotta like originally planned) but ultimately gives pretty good advice when Carlotta needs it. Transforms at the words “Klikk, Flukes Up!” and detransforms with “Klikk, Flukes Down!”. Klikk likes to hide in Carlotta’s hair, and despite loving physical contact, Carlotta refuses to let people touch her hair for Klikk’s safety. Klikk enjoys Blue Planet, cuddles, and deep-fried calamari.

#carlotta suero-dupain #oc: carlotta suero-dupain #miraculous ladybug oc #whale miraculous #miraculous oc #miraculous au #klikk #klikk the whale kwami

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glimpseofadaydream · 5 months

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youtube

Sooooo, I mentioned that I was watching politicians' new years speeches recently and one woman, who caught my eye a bit is the spokeswoman of the right-wing party AfD (Alice Weidel). AfD is always a bit on the brink of being unconstitutional - or at least under closer observation of our internal intelligence agencies. Pretty much like most european right-wing parties. Anyways. Why did she catch my eye?

Well, I watched the video muted, so I didn't pay much attention to the content but here are some details:

- a thoroughly done make-up but smudgy patches around the nose and lip. The make-up looks like it is inspired by german army make-up (foundation, powder, mascara) but she also wears eyeliner and some chapstick/lipstick.

- she has an absolutely insane blink rate and number of eye flutters for someone who tries to be taken seriously. A higher blink rate + eye flutters usually indicate stress, so either she's not comfortable with speaking on camera or the content that she is trying to sell stresses her out.

- Alice Weidel is part of a conservative right-wing party and commonly tries to win followers and voters by focusing on themes like nationalism or traditionalism. Hence, she often tries to portray a conservative, sophisticated woman, often mimicking an old-money-aesthetic. Her common accessories are a pearl necklace and a pocket square. Yet, it doesn't go together. She wears pearl necklaces with button-shirts and pocket squares. Common among old money folks is: pearl necklaces go with dresses or collarless shirts (usually in combination with matching pearl earrings).

Pocket squares are usually worn with suits, often with a matching tie. The upper button has to be closed, leaving the button open is considered casual wear. It is uncommon with a pocket square or even a pearl necklace.

Additionally, upperclass associates and old money folks (as well as oligarch-women) usually wear nail polish. Mostly in light colours like beige or rosé. A clear top coat is considered unsuitable, Alice Weidel's hands look like her nails aren't polished at all.

In fact, her hands look more like a working-class woman's hands.

Last but not least: her hair. It cannot be seen in the video but I looked up her hairdo in other videos. Even though her hair is fixed with hairspray to give it a bit of stability, her hairdo is relatively unsophisticated.

She might have her hair fixed in the front, yet in the back she wears a rather sloppy bun, which is very uncommon among upperclass- or blueblood-folks.

Generally, I had the impression, that A. Weidel tries to give an impression of a sophisticated upperclass woman, who stays true to her roots, yet she doesn't seem to know the rules of said people. It might be sloppyness, yet looking at the effort she tried to put into her make-up and clothes (as well as the neatly put up Christmas decoration) I would suggest it is plain manipulation.

With that being said - have a nice weekend everyone!

#Youtube

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cognidoodledoo · 2 years

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We can’t forget about giving these guys their own intro, types and enneagrams, now can we?

More info down below:

From top to bottom function, they get visibly less and less humanoid + the dark sclera compared to the main functions since they aren’t as developed or even expressed/made aware of as often as the first four (especially Te and Si).

In a way they’re all symbolic “opposites” to their functions’ counterparts! More of this will be detailed in their individual bullet points.

The similar color schemes and designs for Ne and Si to @cognitivedoodles’s still apply here: shadow ENTP/INTJ and ENFP/INFJ have Ne and Si in the same slot, but influenced by different auxiliary/critical and tertiary/trickster functions!

The introverted functions having a more muted palette and the extraverted functions with a more saturated palette still applies.

Introverted functions tend to have longer hair while extraverted functions have shorter hair; I’ll delve into this a little more for each relevant individual function.

Hopefully I delivered with the semi-compensated colors that represent both Fi and Te!

Opposing Ne

Ne’s design is meant to be reminiscent of a spider, since I associate opposing Ne as being “caught up/stuck in a web of possibilities”.

The intuitive functions are the only functions that don’t contrast each other through the “roles” they represent; they do it via imagery alone.

Compared to Ni’s ponytail made of converging the strands of hair, Ne gets twin tails and diverge at the end as a contrast to their way of processing patterns and information!

Another part of the design that points towards this is Ne’s multiple eyes; seeing multiple possibilities in equal weight.

The ribbon-like part of the outfit are supposed to act like extra limbs since I figured the actual extra limbs are reserved for Se. They’re also used to further hammer in the “multiple possibilities” aspect of Ne.

Ne has a bad habit of provoking Ni (re: everyone) when given the opportunity, which further serves Ni’s paranoia of needing to suppress them as much as they can.

Ne has a soft spot for Se though, given that they’re both the only manic functions around.....maybe when Ni finally slips up Ne can make her acquaintance with Se.

For all her teasing, Ne can at least respect Ni’s dedication to the user. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t harbor any hard feelings toward them though....

Critical Fi

Fi’s a ragdoll, which explains the stitches around on her body, fake blush on her cheeks, patches on her dress, and heart motif patched onto it which contrasts with Fe looking more clean and polished as a China doll with porcelain glazed skin and his heart motif as a shiny brooch of sorts separate from his body/outfit.

Also eye contrasts! Fi having buttons for eyes and basically an ‘x’ for pupils while Fe gets “actual” eyes with a pure white heart for pupils.

Not to mention hair contrasts- Fi with her long, lush, and thick hair that touches every inch of her body while Fe has shoulder-length hair and neat bangs.

Fi contrasts Fe’s role as a doting and sociable parent by being the silent and critical parent; she could give Si a run for his money when it comes to who’s the least talkative, given that she generally only speaks when spoken to.

In that same vein, Fi actually more often than not calls out Fe on his bullshit when she gets the opportunity and sees it, much to Fe’s chagrin. But there are also other times where Fi’s the only function to notice and recognize what Fe actually misses when reading others. and himself

Trickster Te

Te’s an automaton, hence the shiny body! (Based on many Te dom characters I love lmao) Also his “glasses” are actually just a visual provided by the screen, they’re not real glasses (or eyes for that matter).

Te contrasts Ti’s role as an innocent, tight-lipped, knowledge-hungry school girl by being the stern, aggressive teacher that always has something to say when everyone else is being inefficient, or worse, unable to make their plans work out.

Te definitely has issues with the entire main function stack being “disorganized” and “inefficient” because of the many notes he’s jotted down about why and how they could improve if they just let him and the other shadow functions take control for one second.

He mostly has issues with Ti, calling her “slow” due to her need to know every single little detail and fact (unbeknownst to Ti of course because of a few strings Ni and Fe managed to pull so a function like Te and the rest can stop threatening to take control of their spots and ruin the user even more than Se could ever dream of)

The whip is also another reason Ni and Fe don’t want him around lmao

Demon Si

Si’s a timekeeper demon that actually hates his face so much he opted to wear a mask so he doesn’t have to face (heh) himself

Si contrasts Se’s role as an eternally youthful, joyful teenager by being the eternally elderly, depressed time demon that would rather be left alone forever but sticks with the shadow functions under the excuse of “keeping them in check”.

The broken off demon horn is to emphasize the fact he’s a demon since the original one whole circle horn is supposed to symbolize him being a timekeeper (eternity). The demon and self-loathing emphasis references how INFJs/INTJs internalize Si negatively more often than not.

Si has only ever interacted with Ni a few times and Ni’s more paranoid about him than any other function; he fuels their anxiety more than everyone else combined, to say the least.

No one admits it, but Si is in some weird way the glue that makes the shadow functions stick together.

#mbti #mbti art #cognitive functions #infj #enfp #ne #fi #te #si #extraverted intuition #introverted feeling #extraverted thinking #introverted sensing #myer briggs #shadow functions #myart

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wisteriashouse · 4 years

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stranded.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1960

The mission was a success.

Although it is more common for Pillars to work alone to make full use of their manpower, Oyakata-sama had assigned you and Kyoujurou on a joint mission. There was a disturbance in a remote village in the far west, rumored to one of the Twelve Moons devouring people. Luckily, the two of you had managed to subdue and slay it before it could kill and feast on even more victims before proceeding to clear the surrounding forests of any more demons.

However, the both of you had gotten snowed in due to an avalanche blocking off the mountain pass, and hence are to be stranded there for the next three days.

The second you wave off the last villager come to thank you for saving her child, you promptly make your way into your room, slide the door shut and proceed to collapse onto the tatami on the spot. Every bone in your body is aching as if you’ve been run over by a train and all its carriages; you have no idea how Kyoujurou still has the energy to help the villagers bury the rest of the bodies. You had tried to insist on helping as well, but your fellow Pillar had cheerily shooed you off to rest, reassuring you that’d they’d be done in no time.

Rolling over into a more comfortable position, you wince when fresh pain blooms across your shoulder blade and immediately scramble to your knees to take stock of your injury. The adrenaline from the battle earlier must be wearing off, because the moment you try to look over your own shoulder, about ten different muscles howl at you in protest. You groan.

“That’s just wonderful.”

Shrugging the haori off your shoulders, you study the dark red stain on the fabric contemplatively and consider if this is an injury you can simply shrug off. Common sense and your desire to actually live beyond thirty tells you no, so you sigh and drag yourself to your feet.

You could do with another pair of eyes.

Stepping out barefoot onto the engawa, you tip toe your way to the room next to yours. The candles aren’t lit, and you briefly wonder if Kyoujurou is still not back or if he’s already retired for the night. While you’re pondering this outside, the door slides open all of a sudden, startling you.

“Kyoujurou! You scared me!” You tell him, one hand over your chest. Your friend smiles at you brightly from the doorway.

“My apologies! I was wondering why you were dawdling about outside instead of entering!” He’s in a slight state of undress, his Flame Pillar haori absent and two buttons on his uniform undone. He must have been in the middle of changing out of his clothes and getting ready for bed. “Do you need something from me?”

“Sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to know if you made it back safely.” You shake your head, intent on just checking out your injury tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll die overnight, will you? “I’ll leave you to your rest now.”

With a wave you turn to leave, but before you can, Kyoujurou’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“I wish that you would be more forward with me!” Kyoujurou declarers loudly out of the blue, and you whirl around to look at him with wide eyes. He’s smiling at you, hopeful and genuine. “As fellow Pillars, we should help and rely on each other! Furthermore, you’re a precious friend of mine. I’d love to help you out, if you need me!”

Red colors your cheeks, and you glance to the side, embarrassed. “Of course. My apologies.” You mumble, “It’s just been so long that we’ve met that it feels a little awkward. You’re a precious friend to me too, Kyo.”

At your words, Kyoujurou practically radiates happiness in the dim hallway. “That makes me happy to hear! Come on in!” He ushers you inside quickly, sliding the door shut behind you. You take a seat on the floor and make yourself comfortable, watching him move around the room to light the lamps. Soft candlelight springs to life, bathing the room in a dim orange glow, and he turns back to you once he’s done. “What is it that you need?”

“Well, I might have gotten an injury on my back, but I can’t see how severe it is. I need you to help me take a look.” You explain, and his eyes narrow in concern. In a few quick steps he’s by your side, kneeling behind you to examine your injury.

“Your uniform appears to have been slashed, but I am unable to take a closer look as your clothes are in the way.” Kyoujurou says, and you frown. This is going to be a pain... “Perhaps you should...” His words trail off, suddenly hesitant, and you laugh quietly under your breath. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him being flustered. “I can call one of the women from the village to help you instead-”

“No need to, it’s late and they’ve had a long night. Besides, I trust you.” You say, a little amused as you reach up to undo the buttons of your top. “Turn away for a bit.”

“Of course!” His voice quavers just so slightly, and you can’t help the soft laughter that escapes you. Rengoku Kyoujurou, Flame Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps, is endearing cute in your eyes, you think. Pulling off your top and wincing when the dried blood tugs at your injury, you use it to cover your front before calling to him.

“You can look now.”

You hear him shift to face you, and then there’s a little intake of breath as he sees your back. “There’s a cut on your left shoulder blade, about the length of my palm.” He explains seriously as he checks over your injury. “It doesn’t appear to be bleeding very much, but you should get it treated as soon as possible before infection sets in.”

“Ahh, got it. I’ll go to the village tomorrow morning and ask for some medicine.” You turn around to smile at him. “Thanks for your help, Kyoujurou.”

“I have medicine!” Kyoujurou announces enthusiastically before you can so much as think about leaving. “I visited Kochou’s estate before this mission, so I happen to have some ointment from her. I’m sure it’ll make you feel better! Give me a moment.” He rummages through his belongings and pulls out a distinctively lacquered container proudly. “Here it is!”

“Shouldn’t you keep that for something more important, Kyoujurou?” You ask him, worried. He’s headed out for another mission right after this one, after all. “I could always just get patched up at the village tomorrow. It doesn’t hurt much.”

“Nonsense!” Kyoujurou insists. “You are a precious friend, it would not be wasted on you.” When he sees your hesitance, his voice softens slightly. “Please, let me take care of you.”

Cheeks heating up slightly, you nod and turn around to hide your face from his gaze. “If you want to, then go ahead.” You say softly under your breath, and you can feel Kyoujurou’s smile behind you.

Demon Slayers are no stranger to injuries, and Kyoujurou has certainly faced his fair share of them before. He prepares the gauze and disinfectant liquid with practiced movements, raising them to your back with cautious hands. He’s clearly mindful of your injury.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns you, and you hum in acknowledgement.

“I trust you.” The words leave you easily. Kyoujurou’s fingers are warm against your skin.

When the disinfectant touches your gash, you bite back your wince at the sting, but of course Kyoujurou hears it. “Does it hurt?” He asks, clearly upset at the thought of causing you any pain, but you shake your head.

“No, I’m fine. I honestly didn’t think I was going to get injured, but today’s demon was really quite interesting.” You think aloud as Kyoujurou wipes down the area around your wound carefully. “I can’t believe I let myself get hurt by a Lower Moon. Embarrassing, don’t you think?”

“You’re not weak at all!” Kyoujurou pauses in treating your wound to scold you, and you turn around to see him smiling encouragingly at you. “You sustained it saving a little boy, did you not? It is not something to be embarrassed of!”

You laugh, turning back so that he can tend to your injury. “Thanks, Kyoujurou.”

“It’s not a problem! I simply spoke the truth.” He tells you as his fingers resume work once more, dabbing ointment on your wound. The faint smell of antiseptic tickles your nose. “It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” Kyoujurou’s voice is a hint softer than usual. “You’re just as selfless as I remember.”

His words make you smile, a light fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I got to come on this mission with you too, Kyo. Since you became a Pillar, I rarely get to see you aside from Hashira meetings. Maybe getting snowed in was a blessing in disguise for me.” You laugh a little at your own words.

“I feel the same.” Kyoujurou’s breath dances across the back of your neck as he leans over to reach some of the smaller cuts on your shoulder. Content and safe with him, the exhaustion from today starts to catch up with you and you feel your eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes.

“I’m done.” Kyoujurou announces after a few minutes as he secures the knot on your dressing. “Although the wound is not severe, but it’d be good for you to get it changed daily to prevent infection. You should head back to your room now and rest properly-” Your head tilts forward and Kyoujurou pauses mid-sentence to realise you’ve already fallen asleep.

He briefly wonders if he should wake you, but his hand hovers over your shoulder when he catches sight of your sleeping face. Letting out a soft sigh, he murmurs to himself. “Falling asleep in a man’s room like this, you’re truly are cruel for making me suffer in this way.”

Instead, he averts his gaze and slips his arms beneath your knees and back, careful to avoid your injury, and carries you to the bedding he’d set out earlier for himself. Gently laying you out on it, he makes sure to cover you with the thick blanket so that you don’t catch a cold, and then brushes the hair out of your eyes with a tender hand as he looks down at you with a pained smile.

“You’re so defenseless around me.” He says softly into the quiet of the room, silent except for the sound of the winter wind outside. “I wonder if it’s because you trust me, or because you don’t see me that way at all...”

With a slightly self deprecating sigh, he makes to get up, intent on heading over to your room to sleep instead. Before he can leave, however, a smaller hand wraps around his wrist, holding him in place.

“Kyo...” Kyoujurou looks down to see you pressing his hand to your cheek, a content smile on your face as you sleep. “Warm...”

His heart stumbles in his chest. Despite the winter chill in the air, Kyoujurou feels unbearably warm.

He settles back onto the ground, back against the wall as he looks at you with a resigned smile. “What am I to do with you, really...” His own eyes slide shut, but his hand remains tightly held in yours throughout the entire night.

The two of you fall asleep together, each dreaming of the other even as the sun begins to rise over the mountaintops.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic

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everyday-is-brighter-with-you · 3 years

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CRYING IN THE (WINTER)CLUB

Before starting the ID I want to say there are some OC characters in this, and I’ve described their general appearance in this google doc for ref!

[ ID: Wide front view colored art drawn traditionally and colored digitally. Every character is in fullbody except Dr Habit whos drawn till above legs. In the scene many people are gathered out in the winter snow at a backyard. Snow falls everywhere. Overall pic is light blue toned. There is slight pale vignette around it.

Dr.Habit is looking away and wiping a tear, smiling. In the artists interpretation he has yellow fur, pink hair, stitches on hands, deep red nails.He wears long brown fur coat, big white knitted scarf, black fingerless gloves, black fur ushanka with orange fruits and green leaves design. Wears hair in a long plait. A dark grey maine coon leans into him.

Putunia is laying down, hands on cheeks making a ''ooo'' face in anticipation and glee. In the artists interpretation she has long dark brown curly hair. She wears a purple petunia shaped dress, blue pants, short brim straw hat with fake purple flowers, thick yellow socks. Wears hair in big pigtails tied with pink bobble ties. She is looking at Lil Habby( the puppet) holding a fire gun to a melting chocolate bar, melting into a cup for making a drink. He wears the usual with a pink flower in hair. He has long thin simple shadow arms and legs here.

Marigold is sitting idle on the grass, looks curiously at snow on his petal hair, maybe even irritated. Near him on a pink cushy sofa with green highlights and little yellow flower designs sits Rose playing his flute eyes closed and legs kicking casually. In this picture his hair is longer. His hair tie rests on a sofa arm.

Behind him the Carlas are making a Snow Carla. Fortune Teller Carla is smiling and keeping a camellia on the snow figure. A red sleeveless dress and red gloves are drawn on her, wears hair in double buns with sparkling grey flower bands encircling buns, green eyeshadow. Another Carla laughs heartily, adding more snow. A green buttoned dress with yellow ''fluff'' and striped brown cap with same fluff is drawn on her. The third Carla's face is away from viewer, she too is adding snow. A blue dress like Elsa's icy dress and a purple flower crown is drawn on her, though the cape is actually worn. The Snow Carla has one swirly eye dug in, a button eye with leaf lashes and branch eyebrow, carrot nose, red wax lips stuck on. From the camellia tree behind the red-clothed one, a pair of green cat eyes with thick brown brows stare.

Farther away on the other side Kamal is walking in, holding a half eaten pitha in hand while approaching. He holds a bag with a box saying ''To Kamal, with love''. In the artists interpretation his face is acne scarred. He wears a blue-black sweater, purple scarf, blue pants, brown winter shoes with white fluff at the top, one gold earring, frog shape chew necklace, hair is in a bun.

At the center Trevor is reaching up with a stool and fiddling with a giant vibrating hot chocolate machine. He wears his usual coat with added blue jeans, red scarf with yellow and black stripes, leopard print heels, green goggles, mask for mouth, silver ear piercings. Hair is in a mullet and nails are sharp and black. The machine has a funnel streaming black smoke, and many bright devices on it. In the center of it is a radioactive symbol. On one side to its bottom is a part reading ''DEVIL MODE'' in allcaps with fire graphics, a big red button in a glass case is above it with a note that reads ''Never(underlined) touch'', stuck with a smiley face pin. There is a mounted fish figurine on one handle. The hot chocolate is fizzling over the brim.

Behind him a long table laiden with food is seen. There are swirl designs on the wood's sides. There are red and green apples, borscht, three colored drinks, yorsh, glintvein , 3 tier chocolate cake, shchi, cut open peaches, cut round bread, bowl with sweet bread cakes, three small buns, full breasted chicken in aluminium foil. Lily is looking over the table edge, grinning with the aim of stealing the cake.

There are plants around, a winter garden. In some places a green color overtakes the snow with grass growing. All over the yellow fence, to the left side, are huge clumps of winter jasmine.

To the horizon trees in blue-green shades with snow coverings are seen, closer and then farther and farther away. In that distance the silhouettes of Jimothan smiling and waving to Trencil, while dragging Parsley through the snow behind him are seen. Trencil stands and smiles, a little of his towering purple castle with red highlights, many turrets, visible.

end ID]

DESC UNDER CUT

yisssss MFERS I made a winter piece before winter was FUCKING OVER sobsob

heres my yearly tribute to the season of nosebleeds cracked lips and flies aND SNOW!!!!!!!!(NOT WHERE I LIVE ;W;)

Also my birthdays really soon. Like next week soon

Ermmm ahffjd to talk a little about what I drew...hmmhfhg...well idk if the perspective( god i tried) makes this look different so ill just throw it out there thats Habits not looking at my sonaJDJVNJ hes looking away and crying due to found family feelings. Carlas doing some gay shit. Pabit+Putunia about to start a small localized natural disaster. I mean how else do u make hot choco without setting chocolate on fire tbh. Hotted chocolate. aNd YeS mY fAmIlY SeLf iNsErTs ArE ThErE tOo >:3. The machine will explode tommorow but its OK. They can make bath bombs from the carnage. Hrhggh I had a different idea but then my sis changed my HC so Im just gonna say Habit built it but with Trevors help hence the flashiness nd DEVIL MODE. Now that ive watched hlvrai i cant stop dropping references this series is so quotable . Sawww those guys in the back? Honestly Trencils probably a winter person with the low light, fog and blocked sun.

---

EDIT: WELL MY BIRTHDAY GOT OVER AND JANUARY ALMOST TOO DAMN..GETTING OVER MY HEAPING ANXIETY AND POSTING

I dont Expect a lot of notes or anything but I suppose its alright, one of the important things to me is just archiving my art somewhere.

I know the IDs long but I’d recommend reading through if u also wanna like know the specifics of what I drew, OVER 15 PLANTS I THINK I’d be flattered,

If you reblog with tags i’ll be happy though!!

[ID: The same drawing but with no editing- no vignette, snow overlay, blue overtone or color correction. end ID]

EDIT: Shortened the rlly long ID, but if someone wants to know the plants i drew under ‘winter garden’; The flowers and plants visible at front are virginia rose, red chokeberry, snowdrops, a single frost covered rose, piers japonica in pots. To the middle inkberry, more snowdrops, colored hellebores patch, glory of snow, black hellebores patch, pansies, cyclamens, yellow aconite, some more snowdrops. A little farther are two winterberry plants, a camellia tree, witch hazel, english primroses, staghorn sumac.

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harris-coopers · 4 years

Text

Lili Reinhart takes naps anytime she can get.

We spend a third of our lives asleep—that means our bedroom is the most lived-in space in our homes. It’s the room where we start and end our days, and that’s why the rituals that happen there are extra-important. In The Wind Down, we’ll be exploring the nighttime routines of people we admire and taking their advice to make the moments just before bed feel our best—even when we’re on the go.

“I’ve traveled more in the past three years than I have in my entire life,” Lili Reinhart says. “It’s been an adventure.” The actress launched into stardom as Betty Cooper on Riverdale just a few years ago, and more recently appeared in the box-office hit Hustlers—hence why you might just find her napping, well, pretty much everywhere: a car, her trailer, a dressing room, and definitely on planes. (She has to recharge somehow!)

At this point, the newly minted frequent flier (who loves racking up points on her American Express Green Card) has her traveling routine down to a T. Here, she explains her methods for making the most of her time in the air and how she chills out after landing.

Log off: I check my phone before we take off and get my last dose of the Internet. I never really pay for WiFi. When I’m in the air, I think: It’s pretty pathetic if I’m paying for WiFi. I can take five hours off unless I have very urgent emails to answer.

Easy z’s: I am lucky enough that I can sleep on planes, so I always do. The red-eye I took last night was just four-and-a-half hours, but I slept for three and a half of those. Today I landed at 7 a.m. and took an hour nap on the car ride from the airport to my hotel before I started hair and makeup for the day. Literally, whenever possible, I sleep; I’ll set my alarm for 30 minutes whenever I’m tired. I was even sleeping during my lunch break.

Reset button: I take a lot of baths. Luckily, I have a good tub in my apartment in Vancouver. I use either Epsom salts, a bath bomb, or a nice little bubble bath situation. I try not to look at my phone, but I always do—I like scrolling through it when I’m lounging in the bath.

Travel uniform: I like to wear baggy jeans, never dresses, because I’m always curling up in a little ball. I’ll always wear boots or sneakers—it grosses me out to have any part of my foot exposed. And I always bring a jacket because I get so cold on planes. Even when I’m like, “Oh, it’s 90 degrees, I’ll be fine,” I’m freezing.

Featured picture: I don’t watch too many films on planes (because I’m usually sleeping), but the last ones I saw were the movie Jennifer Lopez did before Hustlers, Second Act, and Atomic Blonde. I usually watch a blockbuster rather than an indie; things that I missed in the theater.

Snack time: I’ve gone through different stages of snacks. At one point, I really liked Sour Patch Kids, then M&M’s, then peach cups, then sandwiches. Now I’m in an in-between stage where I don’t have a preference. I just try not to have Pringles. It’s such an airplane food to me—I’m like: You’re the last resort.

Write on: I don’t ever sit down and think, Yeah, I’m going to write right now. It truly comes to me when it comes to me. I’ll write in the notes on my phone, although I do love writing with pen and paper.

Carry-on extras: I bring a nice going-out dress, just in case I decide to leave the hotel. Lately I’ve been having to remind myself to pack my workout clothes. When I’m in L.A., I like to do reformer Pilates—I have those special Pilates socks.

Must-buy souvenir: My grandma collects magnets; she hangs them on the side of her fridge. I went to Aruba last year with my best friend, so I got her a magnet from there, and something from Notre Dame when I went last year. I collect little things for her, but nothing really for myself. Although I like to take photographs, and I’ll keep ticket stubs if I see a show somewhere.

source:

#lr

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demaury · 4 years

Text

defying gravity (5.5k)

“I’ve lied. To you.”

He turns his head to Eliott, who suddenly seems far too interested by the tobacco packet he exhumes from his pocket to look at him straight in the eye. Lucas watches as he tucks a filter tip between his lips and goes on to fill the roll.

“If that’s the moment you admit you’re a psycho who followed me all the way from Paris, it couldn’t have come at a better time, I’m ready to die.”

OR. Lucas hates everything, but perhaps not everyone.

You know, it’s almost funny, when you think about it.

Three days ago, he’d never have guessed that there’s a single thing in the world that could be worse than the idea of his dad’s remarriage. And yet here he is. Hiding from the crowd of family friends and family members behind a grey Audi, dressed as a fucking penguin, constantly trying to loosen the knot of the shitty tie everyone has insisted for him to wear — all the while riding a spectacular hangover on what’s probably the warmest spring day ever.

It shouldn’t be this hot already. Not in fucking April.

His hand shoots up to wipe away a drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck, just above the collar of his dress-shirt.

It’s a nightmare.

Everything is just so noisy and so- so peopley. He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose, and reaches for the water bottle he managed to score from a disbelieved waiter at the bar to take a sip. Wherever his gaze lands, it’s like someone is looking back and is ready to make conversation — hence why he sought refuge behind a fucking car, far, far away from the tent, because that’s just how much he needs to avoid people at the moment. They’re all so cheerful, chatting eagerly around a glass of champagne, and between the town hall ceremony and the huge-ass country house his dad has ranted for the occasion, he’s lost count of how many ‘Lucas honey you’ve changed so much!’ have been shot his way. Nice of them all to collectively ignore that although he’s not exactly tall, he still got taller since the last time he saw any of these people.

A few kids are scattered around, playing football, and he recognizes one of the ten-year-old girls as his now-stepmother’s daughter. Which probably makes her his stepsister, now that he thinks about it. Fuck. Call him slow, but it’s never really sunk in up until now. They are all playing like there’s no tomorrow, running and screeching and yelling and screaming some more, and he grits his teeth in a wince as a hammer pounds against his frontal lobe with every single glass-shattering sound they manage to produce. It’s probably for the best he doesn’t have a car here, otherwise he would have hopped in and driven back to Paris before his dad would even think about searching for him — although to be fair it’d surely take a while before that happens.

His eyes dart to the side when he hears footsteps approaching, already ready to tell whoever it is to go fuck themselves, when his stomach clenches brutally and his eyes widen behind his sunglasses. He has to do a double-take because it is not fucking happening, right?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hears himself mutter.

Problem is, he’s not the only one to hear it. The gorgeous-looking dude walking in fucking slow-motion on the gravel path near-by hears it too, and soon there’s a pair of grey eyes landing on him. Lucas mentally thanks the sunglasses on his nose — how else would he be able to handle that look, now that he’s sober? The guy’s pace falters about a meter away from the Audi Lucas is sitting against, a small frown of confusion making his brow furrow.

Lucas sighs and pushes his sunglasses up on his head. It’s always nice to know that whatever you do, the universe still has some jokes in store for your miserable existence. Of all the what-the-fuck experiences he’s had in his life, this one is probably a solid top-three.

Grey-eyes-dude stares back at him, and his gaze narrow when realization downs on him. “Okay, just so you know, I didn’t follow you all the way here,” he guy says, sounding almost defensive.

What’s his name again? Lucas racks his brain in search of an answer, but he’s not sure they’ve exchanged names at all in the first place. That being said he’s not entirely sure they didn’t. Nice job, brain. In the meantime, he makes a point to look unimpressed. Like it’s his daily lot to have one-night-stands, stalkers, and goddamn models following him around, hours away from the city.

“Didn’t even think of it,” he shrugs, hoping to strike casual.

The guy looks vaguely embarrassed as he drapes his jacket over his arm. Funny how he wasn’t so careful last night about literally any of their clothes. Lucas grabs his water bottle, maybe just because he needs to do something, anything at all, but as he takes a sip the guy’s still standing there, looking like that, with his navy slacks and light-blue button-up, and believe it or not but it’s surprisingly hard to make eye-contact with a guy who had his dick inside you less than twelve hours ago.

Like, seriously. When it’s not an exclusive relationship situation, it’s the epitome of w-

Hold the fuck on.

A weird feeling creeps up his spine.

What is he doing here? Not in a fuck-he’s-creepy kind of way, but in a fuck-this-is-family-only kind of way. He doesn’t know half of the people who’re under the tent. Let alone those who weren’t there for the pre-ceremony chit-chat. Fuck, what if he’s one of his cousins? Did he just bang one of his fucking cousins? He tries counting but he doesn’t even remember how many of them he’s supposed to-

Shit he’s started to talk, Lucas freezes as Mr. Fuck-Don’t-Be-My-Cousin is already mid-sentence.

“What?”, he calls out dumbly, cutting him off.

“The bride,” the guy says again, and he gestures towards the tent like Lucas can possibly forget there’s a wedding going on. “She’s my sister’s godmother.”

Oh. Okay. That’s better.

Not a cousin. Good.

Go-od.

He presses his lips together with a nod. “Small world,” he mumbles. It’s not like he’s actively trying to be sarcastic, but that’s just the way it sounds like. Whatever. There’s an awkward silence stretching, until his slow brain catches up. “That’s my dad,” he simply offers with a vague gesture of the hand. “The groom. Or whatever that’s called when it’s not the first time around.” He folds his legs and brings his knees close to his chest, letting his eyes wander away.

“Why are you hiding here then?”, the guy asks and Lucas rolls his eyes to himself. He’s really tempted to tell him that them banging last night doesn’t qualify as an obligation to make small-talks on cue at formal gatherings. “Shouldn’t you be like, celebrating out there?”

“I’m celebrating,” he counters, and when his one-night-stand-turned-shrink cocks an eyebrow, he waves his water bottle. He’s sitting flat on his ass on a patch of grass, desperately trying to let the world forget he’s ever existed — which is working spectacularly, obviously —, it’s quite noticeable he’s living his best life at the moment. “Fine, I needed a bit of quiet. Hangover and all. Happy?”

Praying that his dad chokes on the wedding-cake by the end of the day is definitely an activity that can keep it busy for a couple of hours anyway. Not that it’s his business. Or anybody’s.

The guy clears his throat. “Right,” he says, and he offers a small shrug. “I’m going to, uh, greet everyone.”

It sounds almost as a question and Lucas turns his face away, putting his sunglasses back on his nose with a noncommittal noise. He pretends to find an interest in the kids’ messy football game, which for some reason seems to have turned into a kickball game in the meantime, to avoid following him with his eyes as he walks away.

He has to leave his hiding spot, eventually. Not that he’s dying to.

The afternoon has already long merged into early evening as he does so, and the sun setting has made it much more complicated to stay outside in a simple dress-shirt without his teeth starting to clatter. He gives a few tight smiles as he makes his way under the tent, where everybody is cruising around and reading the nametags to find out about the sitting arrangements.

His name is two tables away from the main table, which he should be grateful about, he guesses. The last thing he needs is to end up squeezed in-between his dad’s already half-drunk witness and his stepmother’s sister. He might be an adult, legally speaking, but there’s a limit to the amount of adult-bullshit he can go through in a single day and he’s already dangerously dangling off the edge as it is, there’s no need to push any more than that. He lets his eyes wander on the other nametags on each side of him. There’s one with his paternal cousins’ name and another one he doesn’t recognize — Eliott.

Maybe it’s from Marjorie’s side, he thinks offhandedly.

Who cares.

He’s about to slouch into his seat when a small huff makes his head swivel to the side. His hook-up from last night is staring at him, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s just walked straight of an Armani campaign. “I’m going to start thinking you’re the one following me,” he says, cocking an eyebrow, and when Lucas frowns, he takes a step closer and pointedly draws the chair next to his own like it’s really no bother.

Eliott. So he’s Eliott. Great. Nice. Awesome.

“You wish,” Lucas retorts, and as much as this guy is triggering his fight-or-flight instincts, he tries to shove them back down as he sits down as well.

Hear him out. He’s not big on random hook-ups. He doesn’t do well with the whole no-strings attached bullshit, so throwing himself at a goddamn stranger isn’t something he does. He banged a random guy once.

Fucking once.

Jesus that will teach him to think with his dick.

Maybe it’s all that sunshine outside that grilled his brain but he’s sure he can feel him stare at him — probably just to test his nerves, like the rest of the world seems inclined to do. When he throws a quick glance to the side, Eliott nonchalantly looks away, his hands resting calmly on his thighs, and Lucas rolls his eyes to himself. No one has to know they’ve ever met each other anyway — and even then, ‘meeting’ is a bit of a strong word. Not that it’s such a problem or that he’s ashamed or anything, there’s just literally nothing to say. Sure, the sex was great. But that’s literally it. At this point he’s not even sure he remembers what they had to drink.

What are you concerned about anyway?, a voice snickers. He can be perfectly chill about it too. No problem. Why would that be a problem? Because on a scale of 10 Eliott happens to be a solid 15? Hell, he should be bragging about it, if anything. But there aren’t many people to brag about it with in the first place, so. The silence stretches between them and Lucas begrudgingly takes in his surroundings. A brunette in a floral-patterned jumpsuit rounds their table, and from the corner of his eye he can see her nudging Eliott in the shoulder. “Hey, mom wants us to take a selfie with Marjorie.”

“When did she become obsessed with those?”, Eliott grumbles without budging, but another nudge gets him rising from his seat with a sigh.

There’s an unintentional eye-contact as Eliott is leaving the table, but Lucas’ eyes automatically dart onto the three glasses sitting in front of him. It’s like they’re making fun of his hangover. Ah ah ah you should have gotten drunk tonight.

Well, maybe he’s gonna do that.

Maybe he’ll just steal a bottle of whisky or whatever they were offering at the bar and down it by himself in the bedroom waiting for him inside the house. He grumpily digs out his phone and starts scrolling through his IG feed and his twitter timeline. It’s already near impossible to drown out the noises all around, but it gets particularly complicated when the few cousins mentioned on the nametags come to his table to settle in their designated seats.

“Shit, Lulu,” his cousin Charline exclaims as soon as she’s done adjusting her frizzy red hair, “we’ve been looking for you for hours.”

He gestures vaguely. “I was there. Talking. With people.” Hiding from you all.

Her brother Nicolas sits next to her, and two more girls slide into the remaining chairs. He’s not good with faces but he’s 100% sure they are from his stepmother’s side. There’s a bit of an awkward silence at first and a few attempts at small-talk, only disturbed by the ‘thank you’ Charline chirps happily when a waiter spinning around the tables like a professional octopus drops a freezing cold water bottle and two bottles of wine at the center of their table, next to the centerpiece.

“Who’s Eliott?” Charline wonders, frowning, as she leans closer to peer at the nametag next to him, and Lucas reclines against his backrest with a mental huff when her hair hits him in the face.

One of the two girls in front of him grins. “Oh, we got Eliott? I thought we had Gaby. He’s her brother.”

“Marjo is her godmother, right?” The girl nods and Charline turns to him excitedly, hopping from one topic to another like she’s paid to do that. “Hey, we didn’t get to talk yet. How are things going for you?”

Awesome. I drunk like a moron last night and I almost missed my train because I couldn’t walk straight this morning. Oh, and the guy I slept with on an impulse is five minutes away from sitting his ass next to me for the next six hours to come. So exciting indeed. He doesn’t even know why it’s a big deal. Probably because he’s a man of principles. Yes. And the principle of one-night-stands is precisely not to stick around long enough to give the other person the time to regret their choices.

He gives her an unimpressed look and a no-less impressed shoulder raise. “It’s fine.”

He reaches for the water bottle to fill the biggest wine-glass at his disposal, when Eliott swiftly slides in the seat next to him. There’s a round of ‘oh hey’ ‘hi’ ‘I’m Eliott’ ‘it’s written on the nametag’ ‘oh yeah’ that Lucas is trying his best not to partake in, which isn’t made any easier by Charline’s throaty laugh that surprisingly enough (note the irony) gets really fast onto his nerves.

“I’m working in an art gallery,” Eliott says at one point.

There’s a whistle. “Shit, that sounds serious,” Nicolas observes.

Did he mention that Nico’s sense of responsibilities is non-existent? Last he heard of him, a few years ago, he was trying to pick a college with a good party scene. If he had been born American, he’d be your typical fuckboy lurking around the frathouse at 25 — Lucas himself is not exceptionally ambition-driven himself, but there’s a limit.

“It’s mostly sending emails,” Eliott huffs a laugh. “And running around before the automatic alarm sets off at night to get everything in order.”

Charline goes onto flaunting her degree in sociology, like she didn't move to Quebec because it’s easier over there, and Lucas is this close to roll his eyes — but instead he bites it down, because he’s survived this long without causing a diplomatic incident to let it all go to waste. The conversation picks up without him. He keeps himself busy with his phone and his plate, while everyone else chit-chats obnoxiously. They talk about family memories and Christmas mornings, about vacations at the beach, about missing swim-trunks stories and kindergarten tantrums, and with every single one of them he feels his grip tightening around his fork. A day to celebrate, my ass, he thinks bitterly, stabbing a piece of his food.

“Wine?”

His eyes meet Eliott’s, who waves the bottle of red wine.

He shakes his head. “Thanks, I’m gonna stick to water,” he mutters, and suddenly it’s like everybody remembers he exists, for better or for worse. Eliott is busy filling the glass of one of the girls but he shoots him a glare anyway. It’s his fault. It has to be.

“You’re still a student, right?” Charline asks between two bites of the first course.

“I graduated last year,” he replies stiffly, travelling a piece of his fish terrine in his plate, and since she’s still not looking somewhere else he elaborates: “I’m on a six-month internship in a private cabinet.”

“Oh, yeah! Accounting, right?”

“Architecture.”

There are plenty of reasons why she wouldn’t remember his major, objectively he knows that, but it goes with the fact that she barely remembers his age and that he’s practically sure the last time they texted was for Christmas two years ago — it only fuels his desire to flee. His attention drifts away to the main table, where his dad and his new wife stand up from their respective seats to start greeting each table. They’re lucky enough (joke) to be from the main family, so it’s a given one of them will drop by their table in a little while, and he’d rather die than have his dad looking all pleased and cheerful asking him why he’s not having fun.

“I need some fresh air,” he mutters to no one in particular, as he grabs his jacket and his phone before leaving the table.

Not like anyone will care.

Not like he gives a fuck if they do.

Since he’s not a fan of losing himself in the woods near-by and that hiding in the improvised parking-lot has gotten a lot creepier now that it’s dark as a pit, he’s opted for the bedroom that has been assigned to him for the weekend. At first, when his dad and his stepmother started talking about the sleeping arrangements, they had talked about him sharing with at least one if not two cousins, but he had been petty enough to say that if he had to share, he might as well not come at all.

He didn’t mean it. Like, sharing was really no big deal. He was just trying to push until his dad eventually burst and so he got a reason to dodge this whole bullshit altogether. But his dad had not burst. He had not done much, aside from sighing, shrugging, and saying that he’d get a bedroom to himself.

What a fucking joke.

He’s sitting on the balcony, trying to calm his nerves with a cigarette, when there’s a small knock on the door. He turns half-heartedly, only to stare at Eliott standing in the doorway, one shoulder nonchalantly resting against the doorframe like he’s always belonged here.

“How did you find me?”, he grumbles.

Eliott offers a small smirk in return. “Trust me I’ve majored in finding quiet spots to sulk.” He seems to hesitate, before he takes a few tentative steps in the room.

Lucas swallows down a huff. He’s half-tempted to tell him that he isn’t about to explode, but he simply turns away. “I’m not sulking. And you didn’t have to come, I’m fine.” Even if he flings himself off the railing, it’s only the first floor anyway. The worst that could happen would be for him to break his back. Or a leg. In short, more shit to deal with. It’d deter anyone.

Eliott footsteps grow closer, and soon he’s stepping on the balcony. “Do you want me to go?”

Not really. Maybe a little. He can’t really make his mind.

“Whatever,” he shrugs, vaguely gesturing with the hand holding the cigarette, and it makes the smoke draw intricate patterns in the air.

He’s not a heavy smoker. He’s just your typical stress-smoker who needs some nicotine in his system to avoid a major breakdown — he always ends up breaking down anyway, but whatever. Eliott seems to ponder for a hot minute, and Lucas is this close to burst and yell ‘in or out’ when he eventually brings himself to sit down next to him. They stay quiet for a moment, the silence only disturbed by the loud conversations coming from under the tent.

“I’ve lied. To you.”

“If that’s the moment you admit you’re a psycho who followed me all the way from Paris, it couldn’t have come at a better time, I’m ready to die.”

“Nah,” Eliott lets out, his lighter flickering as he lights up the cigarette a moment later. “I wasn’t at your table. I switched the nametags when no one was looking.”

He doesn’t really know why but it draws a small snort from him, as he tugs on his cigarette. It’s not that he hates having him around, he just didn’t expect him to exist outside of the bar from last night. It was the deal, right? He’s pretty sure it was. He remembers flashes of skin and ragged breathes, he remembers fisting his hand into Eliott’s hair and he remembers creeping out of his flat in the middle of the night. There’s a reason he didn’t leave his number behind — but at the same time it sort of balances out with the rest, and he can’t pinpoint why.

Except that now Eliott is sitting there, and he exists, and the leather jacket has left way to a suit jacket, and his hair is all combed. It’s weird, Lucas decides.

“I wish you had removed mine instead of yours,” he mumbles. At least it would have kept the cousins away.

Eliott huffs a laugh, glancing at him. “Way too obvious. You’re the son of the groom, I’m sure they paid extra attention to where you’d be sitting.”

Lucas slowly shakes his head with a snort. “You’ve got a high opinion of my dad.”

Like everybody else, he almost adds. No one is really able to fathom how much that charming and easy-going man can be borderline cold and uncaring when he sets his mind to be — and that’s even without mentioning that he’s never even bothered acknowledging he’s gay. It’s just like Lucas never came out.

A group loudly erupts in laughter under the tent, and Lucas’ eyebrow twitches in exasperation as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Can I ask something?”, Eliott asks, thoughtfully considering the cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to answer.” Lucas shrugs, letting some ash fall into the empty plastic cup he found on the way up here. “Why did you come at all if you don’t like them?”

It draws another snort from him. He makes it sound like it’s… yeah, like it’s easy. “Peer pressure,” he says neutrally. There’s an ocean between not wanting to attend this wedding and making it plain, and actually getting away with not going. He heaves a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t like them. They just… You know. They’re all nice and fun until you actually need them.”

He brings his cigarette to his lips and tries to focus on the gulp making its way in his chest to avoid thinking about his eyes and the way they’re starting to sting. He presses his lips tighter. “My mom. She’s schizophrenic. Half of the people you see here were once part of her family too and I can count on one hand how many of them actually offered to help whenever shit would go down.”

And that includes my dad. Between those who clearly didn’t want to deal with it and those who kept acting like she was a ticking bomb whenever she was in the same room as them, there weren’t many left to spend Christmas with or throw birthday parties. Shitty annual family gatherings stopped when he was 14 and no one really tried to push for them to be maintained. Every kind of relationship needs work on both parts to function, even family, and he’s not the only one to blame for shutting them out.

Eliott doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. He doesn’t really care anyway. It’s not like he’s expecting anything from him. He puts out his cigarette against the ground and drops it in the plastic cup.

“I know what it feels like,” Eliott muses, exhaling a puff of smoke. Lucas gives him a questioning look, and Eliott answers with a twist of his mouth. “The ticking-bomb thing. People dropping you.” He has a sigh, looking away as he brushes invisible specks of dust off his pants. “It sucks big time. Even when you think you’re over it, it still stings.”

It stings. “Yeah.” They fall silent again, and Lucas folds his legs against his chest to try and warm himself a bit, resting his chin on his knees. “You should probably head back anyway, my mood isn’t gonna improve in a matter of seconds.” It’s not because he’s dreaming to be literally anywhere else on the planet at the moment that he has to ruin the party for everyone, he guesses.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything else,” Eliott scoffs. Lucas shoots him a half-surprised, half-offended glance. “I mean, I offered you a drink last night and you straight up went ‘no names no talking’ on me.”

It should make him feel self-conscious. Embarrassed. But instead he finds himself huffing a laugh and the smile on Eliott’s lips broadens. “Is that a laugh I’m hearing?”

“Fuck off, you’re not that interesting.”

Eliott hums with an eyebrow raise and puts out his cigarette. He keeps the smoke trapped in his mouth for a second, then he tips his head back and releases it in a long puff swirling away in the darkness. It shouldn’t look so good and yet. It’s probably easier to look sexy while smoking when you look like an Armani ad printed on glossy paper.

“It kinda bummed me out that you didn’t leave a number,” Eliott says, quietly, and for a moment Lucas is too confused to put 2 and 2 together. He turns his head eventually, meeting Lucas’ eyes, and his only response at first is to twist his mouth a little.

“I’m not really an expert in one-night-hook-ups, but isn’t that the point?”

Eliott ponders the answer, and eventually gives a casual shrug. “Dunno. I’m not good with those either. I get attached, things get messy.” He punctuates it with a wrinkle of his nose before looking away, right in front of him.

Lucas’ voice sounds a little rough when he braces himself to ask. “Is that what’s happening?”

Why would someone like Eliott even get attached to someone like him anyway? That’s fucking surreal. It feels like he’s being trapped in a prank show. Will hot-dude-Eliott manage to make regular-Lucas believe it in the next two hours? Stay tuned to find out! Eliott glances at him sideways, and the way he ducks his head, it seems like he’s purposefully trying to make himself smaller. “Will you freak out if I say maybe?”

“A little, probably,” he admits. About your taste in men, definitely. Eliott doesn’t reply anything, and for some reason he finds himself leaning to the side a little, and gives him a slight nudge of the shoulder. “Relax I’m joking.”

“A laugh and a joke?” Eliott deadpans. “Turns out you’re quite the life of the party after all. Can’t wait to see you run downstairs on the dancefloor.”

As if. Lucas lets out a snort and shakes his head. “I’m not moving unless they play Emile & Images.”

As soon as the name dangles off his mouth, he knows he could very well be screwed. Knowing what crappy DJs like the one currently working in the backyard like to play, it’s a given that Jusqu'au bout de la nuit is on the track list. Eliott seems to have followed the exact same train of thoughts, because he starts laughing, his shoulders relaxing and a large smile brightening his features.

“That’s literally two tracks away, no take-backs,” he snickers, but when Lucas rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh, it comes out shaky. Eliott pauses, frowning. “Dude, you’re freezing. C’mon, let’s go inside,” he says, immediately rising on his feet.

Dude. Is he fucking serious? Lucas stares at him with wide eyes from his spot on the ground, not budging. “Did you really just ‘dude’ me?”, he scoffs, lifting himself off the floor. Seriously, if it’s his way of friend-zoning all of a sudden, hello whiplash.

“I was trying to be casual, thanks for ruining it,” Eliott retorts. He heads inside the bedroom without looking back and Lucas closes the bay-window behind him as he steps in. “Plus, I thought names were off the table anyway.”

Lucas waves dismissively as he sits down on the bed. “That was before you showed up here and we both had a nametag attached to our plate.”

Maybe he’s just not made for one-night-stands. Maybe that’s just the universe’s way of telling ‘you suck at those, get a grip’. Yeah. Probably. After a while Eliott joins him, settling at the foot of the bed. There’s a silence stretching a little, and he doesn’t know what to think of it now. They can hear the music coming from under the tent, distant and muffled but far too present for either of them to be able to forget about it.

He presses his lips together and glances at Eliott. “Lucas,” he says eventually, holding out a hand still tingling a little from the cold, “22 years of daddy issues crammed into a surprisingly muscular body.”

It gets him a chuckle, rough but sweet. “Eliott,” he says, squeezing his hand. “Your local, problematic dubstep fan with a gravity problem.”

“Dubstep,” Lucas repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Dubstep,” Eliott nods, unabashed, almost defiant.

He hasn’t let go of his hand yet.

Lucas isn’t quite sure he wants him to.

He stirs awake with a small grunt when the mattress starts dipping. It’s weird. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep in the first place. A rustle of fabric accompanies Eliott’s movements while he sits up to sweep his phone unlocked, still clad in his button up and his dark slacks.

“Sorry,” Eliott whispers sheepishly as he glances at him. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Lucas pushes himself onto his back, drowsily reaching to rub a hand over his face. He’s slept with clothes on before, but never with a suit — and it sucks. The sleeves of his shirt are too tight, his pants feel like sandpaper and his belt is digging into his midsection.

“What time is it?”, he mumbles approximatively, but it turns out a bit more muffled and with fewer words than that.

The room is completely dark, aside from Eliott’s phone, and he no longer hears any music outside. Last time he remembers checking the time was… maybe around 2? 3? He didn’t do it often though. There was surprisingly enough of Eliott to keep him busy, conversation wise. That’s probably why they are laying down the way they are, in the middle of the bed.

“Almost 6. I have to go,” Eliott says, sitting on the edge. The look of confusion Lucas sends him apparently prompts him to add: “Marjorie rented a cottage for my parents, and my sister’s looking for me.”

Everything is a bit blurry, though, and what he gathers at first isn’t exactly a full sentence. But the moment Eliott’s starting to move, he reaches out, hand winding onto his hip a bit haphazardly. It’s too dark for him to be able to see anything, so he has no way of knowing what Eliott’s reaction might have possibly been when he mumbles: “Can you stay?”

Please. He doesn’t add it, for some reason, which is weird because his mom raised him well in the end, but Eliott doesn’t seem to mind that it’s lacking. “Yeah, okay,” he says after a moment. There’s another outpour of bright light that makes Lucas squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face into the comforter, when Eliott unlocks his phone to type a quick text.

That’s absolutely not something he should ask for. That he shouldn’t even be in a position to ask for.

But he wants to be selfish — just this time. The light goes out as quickly as it arrived, leaving him completely blind as Eliott lays back down, and it feels almost wrong not to be able to look at him when he just knows they’re so close. But again, his eyes are heavy and his mind a bit fuzzy. He’s almost drifting back asleep already by the time he feels gentle fingers grazing his cheekbone.

“Lucas,” he whispers, so softly that he almost thinks it’s not meant for him to hear at first. “I think I’m falling for you.”

“You and your gravity problems,” he mumbles with a small huff, but he leans into the touch anyway.

Maybe something good can still come out of this, is the last thing he thinks before sleep takes over.

#skam france #elu fic #mine #*#okay so i don't know how to write anymore #🤪🤪#my fics

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crownedmango · 3 years

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Hi, guess who's got a Ghostbusters OC?

Uh so here's an info dump on him, have fun.

He'll get a proper ref eventually I swear-

Name: Avery Hays

Age: 34

Height: 6'0"

Weight: ~160 lbs.

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Status: Poly relationship [Egon Spengler and Ray Stantz]

Occupation: Full-Fledged Ghostbuster

Avery Hays has doctorates in Archaeology and Parapsychology. He studies any haunted artifacts the team finds while out on the job and writes as much information as he can about the item's origins, what it does, and how to contain it. Avery also allows himself to be possessed by ghosts in order to have better communication and understanding with them, he can control most of what's going on during possession, but that doesn't mean it doesn't always take a turn for the worse. Avery's father dabbled in witchcraft and taught Avery quite a bit about it when he was a child.

Avery's jumpsuit is the same as the rest of the teams, his proton pack however is more adjusted to one similar to the pack the Rookie wears in the video game. [in the RGB universe his jumpsuit is red with blue accents and his proton pack is the same as everyone elses]. His casual wear is usually a leather jacket and red shirt, a spiked choker, and torn skinny jeans with boots. His formal wear is a baby blue button up he tucks into a nice pair of black dress pants, boots included. His face usually has bandaids and patches covering cuts, scrapes and breaks due to his line of work.

Avery joined the team during the start of it's formation. He had been staying at the Sedgwick hotel due to reports and rumors of haunted items that resided there, while studying there, the "Slimer incident" occurred and he couldn't help but get too excited over the sight of a successfully captured entity. A few days later Avery had walked into the building for an interview and was hired on.

Avery goes on jobs just as much as the rest of the crew. He tends to be front and center when in a ghost fight, and will take the most damage from it, hence the scars and burns across his torso and arms. Avery is the type to run ahead into danger, and take risks, leading the charge into ghost infested territories and excitingly shooting them down, however it is noted that in high importance/dangerous situations Avery is more willing to sit back and plan things out.

When Avery isn't catching ghosts or doing research, he's gossiping with Janine, Fighting with Peter, or helping the others with their work. He's best described to be a "rebellious teenager" with a "chaotic grunge" aesthetic, so his hobbies consist of the usual: setting fires in parking lots, stealing shopping carts and pushing friends down hills in them, going out to smoke sessions, going into abandoned places and trespassing, and being a general disaster... Y'know, that kinda deal.

Avery loves his friends/co-workers to bits, and has a different way of showing it to each of them. Egon and Ray are the loves of his life, and he'll always buy them things like candy and toys when he can, Egon he'll spend time watching silently as he works or go mushroom collecting with, and Ray he'll talk with about whatever special interests they've recently gotten into. Peter and him fight and get snarky with each other a lot, but they don't hate each other, and Avery will get him some sort of alcohol as a gift (though he denies it everytime). Winston is his favorite person to talk literature with, they'll trade and lend each other books, and Avery, despite not being too into sports, is always willing to go with Winston to a baseball game. Janine he'll constantly gossip with, and always bring her some coffee and/or lunch whenever he can. Louis is someone he doesn't interact with a lot (mostly because Louis gets really nervous/scared around him) but he'll always try and assist him when he can. Rookie is someone he instantly tried to take under his wing when they first applied, and would check in on him whenever he could to make sure they were okay.

Avery loves driving the Ecto-1, yet the others tend to make sure they get in the front seat before him due to his tendency to drive a bit too fast and recklessly. Lives off energy drinks and cigarettes. A sucker for anything sweet and salty. He loves the mood slime, it's color for one reason, the other- well, we won't get into that. He heavily dislikes smaller ghosts, they always lead them on a wild goose chase. His biggest pet peeve is being touched by people he doesn't know or like. Artifacts getting damaged ticks him off to no end (if it needs to be destroyed for safety reasons that's fine).

Avery's strong link to the spirit world due to his constant possessions leads him to take on an abnormal form related to it. His teeth become sharper, his eyes go blank and have a strong glow around them, his nails grow long and sharp, he gains a spirit's inhumane strength and levitation. Avery cannot control himself during this, and may over exert his mortal body as well as hurt anyone in his way during this state. A simple process to tell what's affecting Avery during this state is to look at the color of the glow around his abnormal eyes: If green it's a normal crossover of the spirit world taking over, if pink he's been covered in negative mood slime, if red he's gotten too aggravated and an aggressive spirit link is active, and if blue he's gone into a depressive state and a mournful spirit link is active. The only way of getting Avery out of this state without just letting the connection break over-time is to shoot at him with a modified proton stream, which will cause his body harm... Where do you think the burn on his shoulder came from?

#the real ghostbusters #ghostbusters #ghostbusters oc #my artwork #Avery hays

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thenovelartist · 4 years

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A Bride for the Prince, chapter 9

A03 ~ < Previous ~ Next >

It had been a fine day so far; the prince was meeting with several of the ladies, meaning that the intimidating Lady Riposte and the irritating Lady Volpina were absent from… well, anywhere. Marinette never liked running into either of those ladies, considering she was looked down upon by one and harassed by the other. Today, she was free to spend time where she chose without having the day be ruined by either lady.

Unfortunately, her day was ruined anyway.

“It is truly fortunate that I found you,” Duke Barbot said, bowing before her. “I came to apologize for my behavior at the ball.”

Marinette didn’t buy his smooth words for a second.

“Whatever could I do to make it up to you?”

“Please, leave me be,” Marinette said, her tone sharp.

His expression faltered a moment. “Come now. I’d love to keep you company.”

“The last time you said that, you threatened me.”

Duke Barbot flinched, and she knew she’d struck a chord with him.

“Forgive me,” he said, quickly regaining his composure. “I meant no harm.”

She severely doubted that.

“Hence why I came to make amends.”

“I’d truly rather be left alone, my grace,” she said, voice firm. “Good day.”

“But Lady Bug—”

“Please,” she snapped. “I don’t particularly care to be in your company. So for now, good day.” And with that, she spun and marched off in a way that she was sure matched Lady Bourgeois when she was upset or Lady Volpina when her lies had been called out. But Marinette didn’t care how she looked. As long as she never had to spend time around the horrible Duke Barbot again, that was all she cared about.

Thankfully, she did find a quiet spot to spend the afternoon. She managed to find her way back to the private pond that Adrien had showed her and took a seat under a tree. From her satchel, she pulled out a piece of embroidery that she’d been working on to consume her time. To think that she had used the activity as an excuse with Adrien when she’d only known him as Chat Noir. Now knowing he had been teasing her, she couldn’t help but smile. The silly cat.

Hours later, when she decided maybe she should be returning back to her room to get ready for dinner, she would hide the handkerchief embroidered with a black cat in her room so that Adrien would never find it. That would be her secret, one she’d take with her once she left the castle to have on hand to remember him by.

Marinette always felt odd ringing for Alya. She’d grown up being rung for, and now, here she was, doing the ringing. It always reminded her of how much of an imposter she was.

“Where have you been?” Alya asked when she made it up to the room. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’re close to being late.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, letting Alya assist her from the day dress into one suitable for dining. “I lost track of time.”

“Ugh. This is why I have to babysit you half the time—”

“Babysit!”

“Yes, babysit,” Alya hissed. “Your head is so high up in the clouds it’s a wonder it ever comes down.”

“Sorry,” Marinette said.

Alya sighed, but her severe expression gave way to a smile. “You know I’m teasing. Kinda.”

Marinette grinned. “I do. Mostly.”

In record speed, Marinette was shooed out the door just in time to join the rest of the ladies as they marched down to the dining hall.

“We meet again.”

Marinette froze. The voice was too familiar, and not in a good way. “Duke Barbot.”

“What a coincidence running into you. Here I thought I was going to arrive at the dining hall early but instead, I’m rather late and graced with your company.”

Marinette didn’t answer.

“Whatever did I do to deserve the cold shoulder?”

“I believe you are aware of the reason.”

“I have a few speculations, so why don’t you enlighten me.”

Marinette took a breath, reminding herself that she needed to not draw attention to herself. “Duke Barbot. I will kindly repeat that I desire for you to leave me be. Thank you.”

And with that, she marched forward, closer to the other ladies in hopes that would end the conversation.

Thankfully, it did, meaning she only had to endure dinner, as per usual, before being allowed to retreat up to her room.

After what felt like a never-ending dinner, Marinette was finally released to her room where Alya was waiting to assist her from the dinner dress.

“Thanks, Alya,” Marinette said. “Have a good night.”

“You, too, Marinette.”

The door closed, leaving Marinette alone in an extravagant guest room that served as a constant reminder of how she didn’t belong here in this world. Once, she thought the room regal and extravagant, and she had been excited about staying in such a room. But the more time went on, the more she would give to be back in her own conservative bedroom where the weight of lies weren’t consuming her.

She sat on the plush bed that she truly would miss when she went back. She had never gotten such a wonderful night’s sleep.

A knock sounded at her door, startling her from her reverie. “Marinette.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise, yet she remained frozen until the frantic knocking came again.

She hurried to the door. Upon cracking it open, she came face to face with Adrien. Quickly, she yanked the door all the way open. “Get in here.”

He slipped in easily, Marinette shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her poor heart pounding out of fright and nervousness.

“Seeing you, of course,” he said with an easy grin. “It’s my favorite part of the day.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm and any response die on her tongue. “Dork.”

Adrien chuckled. “Actually,” he said. “I came because I figured out what I want for my reward.”

“Oh?” Marinette asked, curious.

He nodded. “I want you,” he said, tapping her nose. “To come with me.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered wildly. “O-okay. Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

He nodded.

“Then should I get changed?”

Adrien looked down at her. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. You should… um… Should I wait out on the balcony, maybe? I can’t exactly wait in the hall.”

Marinette felt her cheeks get hot. “Wherever you won’t get caught as long as you don’t peek.”

He nodded. “I won’t. I swear. I… I’ll wait out in the shadows of the balcony.”

And with that, he scurried out the double doors.

Marinette forced herself to take a breath, the idea of her changing with him so close getting her a little hotter under the collar than she thought it should.

She made quick work of dressing in her civilian clothes, buttoning up the last button on her blouse just as she started walking toward the balcony doors. She cracked them open. “Adrien?” she whispered. “I’m finished.”

He stood from his crouch by the railing, a spot where he definitely wouldn’t be caught easily. “Then I say we go.”

Next thing Marinette knew, her hand was in his and she was following him as he pulled her through the castle. It had become almost second nature at this point, sneaking down the hallways with Adrien. It was truly terrible, but she couldn’t help it. Saying no to him wasn’t an option.

At least… not in her mind.

Together, they made their way out of the castle and toward the horse barn, where there was already a large, black horse saddled.

“We’ll ride tandem,” Adrien said. “I have another place I want to show you.”

“We’re going to ride somewhere?” she said, a new worry coming up. “Won’t we be caught?”

“We’ll be fine,” he assured. “Up you go.”

He grabbed hold of her waist and hoisted her up into the saddle. He followed, sitting behind her and wrapping a strong arm around her waist. She probably shouldn’t have taken as much pleasure in being pressed up against his chest, but she did. It was a struggle to ignore the warm feeling of being so close to him, safe in his arms as they rode the horse out of the stable. Soon enough, they were cantering down a road that led them out of town surprisingly quickly.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” he said.

Eventually, he slowed the horse down right before a large field. “Good boy,” he said, patting the horse’s shoulder.

Marinette grinned, patting the horse’s neck. “Good boy.”

The horse snorted, shaking its head.

“We should get off,” Adrien said, dismounting. Marinette told herself she didn’t miss the warmth of him. “Let Plagg rest a bit.” He then reached up for her, grabbing her waist and lowering her gently to the ground.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked.

“Just a field.”

Marinette frowned. “What?”

He nodded. “Just a field,” he repeated. “Like the ones we used to romp in when we were children.”

The corners of Marinette’s lips began to pick up. “You mean like when we would sneak out at night and stomp down a patch of grass and stare up at the stars?”

“Only after we got tired of chasing the fireflies.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “So, wait,” she began, realization finally catching up with her. “You redeemed your favor because you wanted to come out here to chase fireflies and stare at the stars?”

He hummed, reaching into the pouch behind the saddle on Plagg to take out a large jar. “Just like we used to.”

Marinette felt bubbly from head to toe, giggles unable to be withheld. “How can I say no to that?”

She felt like a child again, chasing the fireflies around and catching as many as they could before stomping down a patch of the field to sit down on and admire their work a moment before letting them go.

Adrien then laid down in the grass, his arm stretched out in invitation. With a smile and heated cheeks, she laid her head down on his shoulder, snuggling up against his side as she stared up at the stars.

With his other hand, Adrien pointed up to the sky, tracing imaginary lines through the stars. “Tell me the story of that constellation.”

“Why? You were the one who taught me about them.”

“Because I like hearing your voice.”

Marinette felt heart race at the admission, heat flooding her face and chest. “Okay.”

How long they stayed there, Marinette didn’t know, but honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She never wanted to leave. She wanted to pretend this could last forever and they didn’t have to worry about anything other than what the names of the stars were.

“We should probably head back,” Adrien eventually said.

Marinette groaned. “I don’t want to,” she whined, rolling over to curl up against his side, hand grasping his shirt and face pressed against his shoulder.

He chuckled, his arm curling around her shoulders as best she could. “I know,” he said. “I don’t want to, either.”

“Tell me one story?” she asked. “Please? The one of Leo and Cassiopeia. I always like the way you tell it.”

“That because I don’t follow the myth. At all.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite,” she said. “Tell me about the lion that protects the princess pretender.”

Adrien hummed. “All right. I’ll indulge you.”

Marinette smiled, letting her eyes drift shut as his smooth voice filled her ears and heart with the tale she never got tired of hearing.

…

“Marinette.”

She groaned at the disturbance.

“Marinette, wake up.”

“No,” she mumbled, burying deeper into her pillow.

Her pillow chuckled. “We need to get back, Marinette.”

Back? Back where.

Her pillow hugged her close and whispered into her ear. “Marinette, we need to get back to the castle.”

Back to the castle?

Slowly, her mind started working, memories of the previous night coming back to her. She and Adrien had been under the stars. Adrien was telling her to wake up.

Did she fall asleep?

Groggily, she opened her eyes to see Adrien looking up at her.

He smiled. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he whispered.

“I fell asleep?” she slurred, her head still a little fuzzy and her eyelids heavy.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I did, too. But dawn’s coming soon, so we need to get back.”

“Dawn?”

“The stars are slowly disappearing, Marinette. We need to get back to the castle. Besides, doesn’t someone have a meeting with the prince?”

Marinette groaned, but he had a point. She forced herself to sit up, hoping that she’d wake fully soon enough. “Don’t remind me. I’m so nervous.”

“Why?” he asked, clearly curious.

“Because…” Marinette bit her lip. “Because it’s the prince. And he knows I’m a commoner. I feel so… so… inadequate. Who am I to be—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, placing a finger over her lips. By the sharpness of his tone, she knew he was giving her a fierce look. “You are not inadequate.”

“I’m a commoner. How am I not—”

“Shh!” he said, his finger pressing more firmly against her lips. “Stop it. Everything will be fine. You’ll do wonderfully. You have nothing to fear.”

Marinette waited until he removed his finger from her lips to continue speaking. “I just don’t want to mess up,” she whispered.

“How?” he challenged, standing from the ground before reaching down to help her.

She put her hand in his, gladly taking his assistance in helping her stand so she wouldn’t trip over her skirts. “I don’t know, just… make social missteps or trip or… I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, what do you have to worry about? Sounds like you’re worrying over nothing.”

Marinette sighed, biting her lip as she stared at the ground.

Next thing she knew, Adrien was wrapping her up in a hug, pulling her close against his chest. “Marinette,” he said, his lips shockingly close to her ear. “Please, don’t worry. There’s nothing you have to worry about. You’ll do great. In fact, I think you’ll be a refreshing change from all the other ladies trying to woo him.”

Marinette recalled Adrien saying the prince wanted no part in this. “Is he forced to spend individual time with each girl? Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed. “And he’s not fully enjoying himself thus far. I think having a chat with a lady who isn’t trying to, in one way or another, convince him to fall in love with her would be a wonderful reprieve for him. And you’re a wonderful person, Marinette. How he couldn’t enjoy spending time with you isn’t comprehendible.”

Marinette felt herself relax in his embrace. “Okay,” she said, shifting to hold him tighter. “I’ll believe you.”

“Good.”

Just as he began to pull away, she felt something press to her temple. It lasted a split second, but considering how Adrien suddenly froze, she realized that he’d just kissed her.

“Uhh…” he said, voice an octave higher than usual.

“I…” Her heart was flailing wildly. “I think we should go.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away and rubbing his neck. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Now, she was completely awake as they rode back to the castle. Despite Adrien’s encouragement, it was still a dreadful thought having to go back to pretending to be a lady and dealing with the other noble girls who looked down on her and running into Duke Barbot again…

“Adrien,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Um… I meant to tell you earlier, but… Duke Barbot—”

“What did he do?” he growled, his arm suddenly tightening around her.

“Nothing bad,” she said. “It’s just… he was being overly friendly with me. It… I just didn’t feel comfortable.”

A low rumble shook his chest, vibrating through her. His arm snaked further around her as his chin pressed into her shoulder in a way that felt protective. “Don’t worry about him. It will be taken care of. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry to bother you—”

“No,” Adrien snapped. “When it comes to Theo, I want to know what he’s doing. Thank you for telling me. Please, don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me when it comes to that. Furthermore, if any man other than Theo makes you uncomfortable, I want to know about that, too. Promise me.”

Marinette let her eyes drift shut and allowed herself to lean fully against him, relishing in the comfort he provided. “I promise, Adrien. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Marinette.”

Just as dawn was beginning to break, they arrived back in the stable. Adrien dismounted first before assisting her down.

“Sorry, Plagg,” he said, swinging the reins around a tie post. “I’ll come back for you later.”

Hand in hand, Adrien snuck her back into the castle and back to her room. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people looming about that could catch them.

“Before I leave you, I want one last thing as part of my favor.”

Marinette frowned. “You took me out and spoiled me with memories of when we were kids. How could that possibly be a favor you needed to redeem?”

“I wanted to spend time with you, and you granted me that.”

Marinette grinned. “You don’t need to redeem a favor to spend time with me.”

Adrien’s smile widened. “Well,” he said. “Then let me redeem my favor with this request.”

“And that is?”

Adrien presented his cheek to her, tapping it with his finger. “I want a kiss to even out the other cheek.”

Marinette’s heart tripped over itself even though she couldn’t help but smile at his hopeful look. “W-what?”

“You kissed this cheek,” Adrien said, pointing at his other cheek. “But you haven’t kissed this one, and it’s been throwing me off balance.”

She stood frozen for a second before being forced to bite her lip to withhold her laughter. “Okay,” she said. She took his jaw in her hands, angling him so she could press a kiss to the cheek he presented.

When she pulled away, she couldn’t help but notice how his smile grew. “Thank you, my fair lady,” he said with a bow. “You have graced me with a treasure.”

She giggled, quickly covering her mouth with her hands to hide it. Hopefully, he couldn’t see how red her cheeks were. “Dork.”

He stood, flashing her a wink. “Have a good day, Marinette. I’ll see you when I see you.”

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the castle.

Marinette shook her head. Such a dork.

And she loved it.

Marinette shut the door to her room behind her, wondering just when she should ring for Alya. Except, a knock on the door disrupted those thoughts.

“Lady Bug,” Alya said on the other side of the door. Even though Marinette hadn’t known her more than two weeks, she could hear the fake sweetness dripping from her tone and knew now was an appropriate time to be afraid.

Hesitantly, she opened the door, revealing Alya wearing a fake sweet smile.

Alya let herself in before Marinette could say a word, and the second Marinette shut the door, the other shoe dropped.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Marinette flinched. “I was spending a little time with Adrien before the day started.”

“Oh, it looked like you were doing a little more than that.” Alya braced her hands on her hips. “You have some serious explaining to do, Miss Marinette. Let’s start with the kiss.”

Marinette groaned. This would be a long day.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #A Bride for the Prince #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #fluff #budding romance #so sweet

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enbycalicocat · 3 years

Text

Day 10: 5th of February, 2021

At the tender age of almost twenty-six, Ellie already felt as burned out as if she were in fact sixty. She wasn’t even working a ‘proper and serious’ job, as her dad liked to say. Apparently manning a store was not an adult enough job for him. In fact, none of her jobs had been adult enough. Once, Ellie had worked at a book store, which he didn't like either of course. The manager there was about thirty-something, older than Ellie by at least ten years. Or that’s what Ellie thought. And the woman was dedicated to that store. She put her everything into her job. Ellie wondered how she would feel if she heard Ellie’s dad saying her job wasn’t ‘grown-up’ enough.

Probably about as invalidated as Ellie felt.

On top of the ‘kid’ job, Ellie hadn’t graduated from university yet. That one was an ongoing issue with her parents, a very serious one. More than her choice of work. They said her only job was studying (uh, hello? It’s not? She also had a full-time job to attend?) and that they could not consent what she was doing with her academic life (as if she needed their ‘consent’ to take longer to graduate).

The thing was, Ellie wasn't doing it on purpose or anything. She really put a lot of effort into her classes. And she really wanted to graduate, for no better reason than making them happy and get them to stop stressing her with their beliefs of when she should’ve graduated (which wasn't very healthy, Ellie was aware). But she just couldn't. For some reason, university was unbearably exhausting for her. It was something that made her tired to the very marrow of her bones. She hated it, with passion and fierceness. Hated it like nothing in the world.

After nearly six or seven years attending university (she changed degrees after the first two years and had to start again from zero in the new degree), the girl had come to a conclusion. University and her just did not get along well. Mind you, not studying and her. Not learning and her. No. University and her. There was a difference. Ellie liked learning. And she didn’t mind studying. Her problem was university. She didn’t like the courses, didn’t like how they were taught, didn't like the grading system.

Why was she studying then? Because in this country you went nowhere without a university degree. That’s why.

Ellie wanted to go nowhere. But her parents wouldn’t let her.

And hence, the burned out feeling mentioned before.

When life felt particularly crushing, Ellie liked playing simulation games. Specifically, farm simulation games. And that was what the girl was doing currently. The little guy on the screen moved according to the commands from the joystick, the arrows, and the buttons under her fingers, as she made him check to see how tomorrow’s weather would be and if she would have luck today.

I wish I was somebody else.

The guy on screen watered his little patches of crops. The watering can soon needed to be upgraded soon.

Really? Somebody else? With a whole other personality?

Ah, these crops were ready to be picked up, that meant money would be coming in today.

Hmmm. Now that I think about it, no. I don’t want to be someone else. I want to be me. I like me. And my personality. I just don’t like my life. So let me rephrase that. I want to have a different life.

And… Done! All the crops were watered and she had picked up everything that matured. Now, off to sell the results of her hard work.

Another life? What kind of life would you want? What would change? Your major at university? Like you haven’t tried that already.

Ellie ignored her very own voice berating herself as she separated the vegetables. The normal and silver ones would go to the shipping box by the house. The golden and purple ones would be sold at the local produce store. Because the girl cared about her reputation in town and didn’t want the neighbors saying the stuff she grew tasted horrible.

No, I wouldn’t change majors. That would make no difference.

The girl rolled her eyes at the screen in front of her, as if the tiny hardworking guy from the game or the television set could somehow be made responsible for annoying herself.

Well, what then? What kind of life would you want?

Finally at the supermarket, the guy walked over to the cash register and began to sell the crops. What kind of life did I want? She had not the slightest idea. Yet, as she watched the guy standing by the counter, pausing in the middle of counting, an idea occurred to her.

Well, first of all, I would’ve fought harder to give voice to the crippling gender dysphoria I felt when I was younger. I don't know that we would've been able to afford a sex change. Or that my country even allowed that back then. But if I had at least fought to have that very present male 'side' of me acknowledged, I would now be happily living as an androgynous being. Because I didn't, at present time I'm just a girl trying to hide her biological gender characteristics. If hormone therapy was in fact an option back then, and I had started it early enough, I wouldn’t have these annoying piece of crap breasts that do nothing but hurt and bring me trouble.

Continuing to sell the produce she'd harvested, Ellie imagined she'd look just like my character on screen. Slightly masculine, but also slightly femenine. Keeping people guessing as to which category to put her under. She could already picture this new life in her mind.

The day she... no, they, told their parents about how they sometimes feel very male. How sometimes the female gender biological characteristics feel weird, odd, off, like something was missing. Then going to school.

School...

How would school be? The bullying probably would've been the same. But they would feel happier about themselves, about their body, about the way they looked and dressed. They probably would've developed a whole different set of mental issues and gone to the psychologist no matter what. But Ellie wanted to believe that it would've all been better than what her school and younger years where actually like.

Oh, that’s a good start. And then? What else would be different?

Focusing back on the game, she finished with selling, and started buying the new seeds to replant the crops that had been sold. I also needed to buy fertilizer because the one I’d used had disappeared as soon as I picked up the crops. If my production rate continued like this, I would be able to buy the next bag and have more inventory space. And after that, I could expand my crop patches. More crops planted, more veggies to sell, more money coming in, and more money meant upgrades could happen faster.

Noticing all the planning and business decisions going on in her head, another idea came.

I would refuse university from the very beginning.

The guy on screen, the pixel Ellie, walked back to his farm with his seeds and his fertilizer, significantly poorer, for now.

No studying? How would you make a living then?

When the guy was home again, she got to work immediately, fertilizing, planting, and watering. They had other things to do that day.

I would make a living by…

At first, she’d thought about being a farmer, like the pixel Ellie. But in this country, farming meant working for the corrupt government, because all the new plots of land belonged to them. And there was no way, that was happening. Also, here having a farm meant no electricity, no running water, no wifi, no signal, no modern stuff. So, as much as she liked farming in game life, that wouldn’t work in real life.

Ah, pixel Ellie was running out of energy and they had no food in the backpack. So, they ran inside to quickly cook something in the house’s kitchen. Real life Ellie would love to make different dishes, there were some dishes that sounded really good. But this game was about how much energy you got from food. Hence, the importance wasn’t on the dishes name, or its ingredients, it was on how much it refilled the bar on the bottom right corner of the screen.

That’s when another idea came to her.

How about cooking? I could go to vocational school and study to be a chef. I really like cooking. Though, more than cooking, I think I would love to be a baker. I like making cakes, and cookies, and that kind of stuff. I mean, I don’t mind cooking, and I put heart into what I make. But I only have real honest fun baking.

So, instead of doing it as a hobby like you do right now, you would do it to earn a living? Remember the last time you tried to make a living out of one of your hobbies?

Writing.

That had been the worst mistake of her life. It got the poor girl into the biggest writing slump she'd ever experienced. All because Ellie had tried to make a living just as a writer and the pressure ate her alive. Until she developed anxiety so bad that Ellie just could not write without feeling like she would have a panic attack at any second.

Yeah, not so good an idea then.

She got the little pixel guy moving again. Everything farm related was done now. Let’s go fish and earn some money for that backpack.

For a while, the girl just played. Eyes glued to the screen. Thinking about nothing but her utter failure to be a human being. What did I want to do in freaking life? How was I supposed to make a living when I wanted to do nothing? How was I supposed to be a functional part of society when everything seems like an unbearable pressure and everything makes me have panic attacks? I would adore to take the pressure out of things. Maybe then I would enjoy them. Maybe then I would be able to have a stable job and a stable income and be a ‘grown-up’.

How about you stop trying to find ways to make a living out of the things you love? We have proven time and time again, that doing that will just make you end up hating them.

Sighing, tired and frustrated and angry with herself, Ellie threw herself back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

I don’t want to be a fudging billionaire. I don’t want to have some big-shot job. I don’t want to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or an engineer, or any of that crap. I’m happy with my stupid kitchen store job. They pay me more than a big percentage of the people in this country. Never mind if we compared it to what the people without a college degree earned. Even if I graduated there was no guarantee that I would get a better paying job, proved by the millions earning minimum wage out there. in any other country my job would be enough to pay for rent, food, and some luxury expenses. And I have enough free time to write as much as I want, because I don’t bring work home. So, tell me what the hell is wrong with just quitting university, dedicating myself to the store, maybe wind up as a personal secretary or manger later on, and write in my free time?

For once, there was silence in Ellie's head.

Indeed. What is wrong with doing that?

She sat up on the bed, looking around as her mind whirled.

That would take the pressure off writing. And I could literally just do it for fun. And my income wouldn’t depend on whether I write or not.

The heart in her chest was beating wildly. Excited. Happy.

I can't make enough to be independent with my current job. But to be honest very few jobs in this country would pay me enough. I would have to earn a couple hundred bucks a month, and short of becoming an escort I didn't know what would make me that amount of money. So, I could move out of this country. Go live with my family overseas and do the same simple things I did here. I could be a part of society. I could make a living. And not depend on my parents.

And, you could also open up a ko-fi or patreon page, have people donate if they want. If they feel like it. That way no pressure is added to you as the author, or to your readers, and you could have some extra income.

She could picture it already. How happy her life would be.

And then Ellie remembered her parents. The fact that she didn't have a passport and obtaining one cost around a thousand bucks. The fact that she had no belongings to sell to pay for the plan tickets. Her cowardice. Her nervousness. Her anxiety.

All at once her body felt completely exhausted. The energy seemed to have been sucked out of the girl and she let herself fall onto the bed, staring at the wall.

No hollywood dreams. No millions of dollars. No sports cars. No. The only thing I wanted was to be happier with my body, to quit university, to have a peaceful job, and write. That was the life I wanted. The life I couldn’t have.

So simple. And yet so far from reach.

A tear rolled down the corner of Ellie's eye, it traversed the bridge of her nose, continued down the underside of the other eye, and finally found the mattress. More and more tears followed its path.

Prompt: 10. Write the autobiography of the life you weren’t brave enough to lead.

Previous Day Next Day

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quilloftheclouds · 4 years

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🔍 if you haven’t done them already, celestine! if you HAVE… captain xuan?

[ Send a 🔎 and the name of one of my ocs and I’ll describe their appearance in as much detail as possible! ]

@livvywrites I’M GONNA DO BOTH BECAUSE I LOVE BOTH OF THEM AND HAVE YET TO DO THEM <3

CELESTINE (Up until book 3--clothing is from the start of book 1.)

4′9 1/2″

Celestine looks like she could be 14, and if she tries for it, she can seem even younger than that! She’s got that real round facial structure, soft and round cheeks, tiny chin, big forehead, big and wide eye(s). Nose with low bridge, broad base; round lips; dark, curving brows. She may be short, but she isn’t tiny: her build has a fair amount of chub to it, and the baby-fat likeness makes her look ever younger.

Deep, bronzy brown skin with a warm, orangey undertone. Underneath a long maroon dress with cream ruffles at its collar and sleeve ends, she hides patches of navy blue and silver scales on her chest, legs, shoulders and waist. Under a light beige scarf, she conceals three slits on either side of her neck--gills. She also has little wing like, light blue and black speckled fins that sprout from her shoulder blades and the sides of her waist.

Her dark brown, nearly black hair is a full, poofy cloud of tight ringing curls that falls just to her shoulders. Frequently she lets a part of her hair fall over the left side of her face, leaving her missing eye hidden. She also conceals the three points to each of her ears beneath her hair.

Her leather boots are nearly to her knees and contain hidden pockets down the insides. The soles are flat but with a grippy tread for hardcore parkour~

Her right eye is a light, stormy blue grey, similar to the colour of the mineral celestine! Hence her name! That’s also the colour of her magic~ When experiencing severe fear or anger, her pupil can thin to a vertical slit, just like a cat’s.

And then CAPTAIN XUÂN (with some things missing because spoilers~)

5′10″, though they usually wear heels that make them 5′11″ or up

Xuân is heckin’ muscular. They just. They are. Very Muscular. Obvious muscle definition, especially on their arms, legs and chest. Broad shouldered, mostly straight-lined form, but they do have a notable inwards curve to their spine and a wider waist.

They look physically to be in their mid-thirties, though this is more because of their build and child-like demeanor--when they’re particularly tired, it’s fairly obvious they are in their early forties.

Oval face with a soft triangular chin, low nose bridge with a wide base and slight upturned end. Full lips, notable high cheekbones, narrow, diamond shaped eyes with vivid leaf green irises. Dark brows with an angular curve.

Long, wavy hair that fall to their waist, nearly black with a slight reddish or bluish hue depending on the lighting. It always covers their ears.

Heavily tanned, light brown skin with a soft golden undertone. Pale green tattoos crawl up their arms in octopus tentacle designs. They have so many scars oh my stars. The most obvious is the jagged line stretching across their face from their left temple to the edge of their right jaw. They also have numerous cuts and bullet wounds across the rest of their body. A severe, nearly open wound cuts around their right ankle, a massive scar of charred and barely covering skin, with visible cracked bone--their ankle broke long ago and never properly reformed, magically infected against healing.

Xuân’s outfits are ALWAYS INCREDIBLY EXTRAVAGANT. We’re talking black with gold trim, fancy brilliant greens and blues and orange patterns, big feathers and shiny buttons. Their favourite hat is a giant floppy black felt broadbrim with a big peacock feather as well as numerous smaller feathers, pinned with a fancy gold and emerald brooch. They also use an ebony and gold cane that holds a hidden sword. At any time, there are dozens of weapons hidden on their form.

#xuan #celestine #oss #one siren's soul #appearance asks #i left out all the magic stuff about xuan because those are #BIG spoilers #ladytauria #Quill's answers

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thearcanaartificer · 4 years

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Okay! These are not the next ones I had, but I crunched through this ask list faster. Here is the original post. I will be cutting off my post a bit because I will only be doing half here and half in another post.

Thank you to those that are reading this and enjoying it. If you ever want to chat, I love talking.

OC asks that reveal more than you think.

1. Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

She has a few. She made a lot of stuffed animals when she was regaining a lot of her motor skills as a way to practice stitching and pattern making, though most she donated to the local orphanage for the children there and a few have been given to her pets. She likes making stylized bunnies, dogs, cats, birds, and teddy bears. Asra had to hide most of her old ones she had from their childhood- even the ones she had made him when he was ten.

Her most prized one is actually one that she found that Asra didn’t hide very well. A black bunny with mismatched button eyes. She calls it Pumpkin (Yes, she had just bitten into some of Sesali’s pumpkin bread when she named the thing). It’s not well put together and the type of stitching that was used is the wrong choice- like a surgeon had sewn it together like they would a laceration- and messy, but the thing is worn and obviously well loved. She felt attached to it from the first moment she discovered it.

She use to chew on its ears a lot when she was first recovering from her amnesia as a from of comfort. She’s stopped since then, but she takes the best care of it since its the only part of her past that she seems to be able to hold on to without headaches.

2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Yes to all three! Though she is a bit of a scatterbrain when she’s in the middle of a big thought or job, she’s actually very good at taking care of things. Plants are easy enough, just water them and make sure they are maintained and make sure they get the right amount of sunlight. Boom. Done.

Pets, she has a multitude and some of them are exotic, so she has a few rescues scattered around Vesuvia to keep them properly cared for and has actually hired other Vopels to keep them for her. But she has at least five at home that are hers to care for and she takes very good care of them. Her dog is almost always by her side, her cat is intelligent enough to find her when he wants her company, and her familiar is a bird, so he comes and goes but she always has bones ready for him if he doesn’t want to have to scavenge.

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

Big dumb, leggy bird of a man.

Okay, she knows he’s not dumb. He’s honestly one of the smartest men she knows- but he does dumb things when left unsupervised! So when she’s trying to describe him in a way that doesn’t give away the fact that he’s Julian Devorak- the wanted ‘murderer’ of the Count- she calls him that.

But if she’s asked to describe her love the right way? He’s a handsome man with the prettiest wild russet red curls of hair, strong nose, and a charismatic energy that will just pull you in. He wears mostly dark colors with at least one flashy bright one for dramatic flair and stands above the rest of the crowd with his height. He may be wearing his eye patch- no he doesn’t need it, its for the aesthetics, thankyouverymuch. He’s brilliant and kind and despite his towering, threatening looking frame, would rather cling tightly to her hand and draw courage from her presence. But he’s brave with or without her. He’s tender and altruistic and plays the part of being confident, but can get nervous and anxious if left alone in his head too long.

4. Do they look good in red?

She thinks she looks good in anything that isn’t predominately white or pastel. So red? Throw in some black or dark greys and yeah, she could work it.

She’d prefer orange though…

5. Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Yes, she’d give you one. No, you don’t want her too. Hers are a bit complicated and unending and always to the wrong audience. One minute she’s giving some normal speech about whatever the occasion is and next, she’s trying to teach a bunch of drunks the nonlinear properties of the magic realms and how to navigate their way through time lapses, its like the folds of fabric with how they intermingle and touch from one time to another, and the different realms can be tricky based on their patterns and-hey Juli put me down! I’m trying to give a speech about- why are we leaving?!

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Old Glory, surprisingly. She’ll take most advice from other Vopel women and even Asra, but she’ll toss out a lot of their sillier ones- like don’t date Ilya (Asra’s). But anything Glory tells her tends to be very good advice (she’s never given her bum advice) and she’s far better with reading people than Odelia and so she’ll just default listen to her on a lot of topics.

She has a long list of who she won’t take advice from, but, to no one’s surprise, she’ll instantly tune out Valdemar’s advice. They rub her wrong and even if the advice is solid, she’ll ignore it because why would she ever want or take their advice?

7. Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Smol chaotic neutral.

Controlled, chaotic exuberance.

8. Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

The more complicated the puzzle, the more interested Odelia is. She has a deep love for whodunit novels because she loves a good mystery to piece together. Her mind loves puzzles of any sort. Magic and science both have the allure of being a puzzle, especially when she’s working on projects that require them to work in tandem (hence her unique brand of magical artificery). Asra use to bring her little puzzles to fidget with as she reclaimed the dexterity of her fingers and she’d just sit there playing with them- before she could even properly speak again- and figure out how solve them by herself.

9. Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

She talks to them. A lot. Her plants are her babies and she’ll baby talk them. Her dolls have ‘personalities’ based on weird things they’ve done (like refused to stay in a particular spot so its persnickety about where its to sit or has fragile stitching so it’s an old lady stuffed toy). And books- she’ll talk to them about their condition or if they fall and land funny. A ‘there you are you sneaky thing’ to books that had eluded her.

But Odelia is a talker and it does help her focus on the here and now (rather than get lost in her thoughts) by talking out loud- even to inanimate objects.

10. What age do they most want to be right now?

The age she is now? She’s not one to daydream about her age or whatnot. She’s in her very early thirties and the world is her oyster. She’s fit and capable and her age is just an unimportant number to her. (especially since she doesn’t remember the previous years before ‘waking up’ anyhow.)

11. They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Haha, she’s already well off, so hurray more money? She’ll just invest the money responsibly as she did the money she had prior to that.

12. Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Oh she’s a sucker for a good romance. If she likes the two characters, she’s in their corner rooting for them. She likes the wittier ones that banter more than anything. But she does get annoyed by impractical drama. Excitement! Danger! Ah YES! ‘Oh no who do I pick? I’m stuck between two choices!’ Grow up and outright pick. Let the one you don’t choose have a chance to get over you and move on with their life and find happiness (or pick both of them if that is a possibility! Just pick!). Because nothing is worse to her than pulling on the heartstrings of someone you aren’t going to pick.

13. Name one thing their parents taught them.

She doesn’t remember her birthparents. They were never a part of her life. Her birthmother briefly, but, when her magic’s rare classification came to light, she was taken into the care of another to raise and train her in the ways of their magic style. But she has had parents in her life. The most current ‘parent figure’ she has (one she remembers) is Old Glory (a nickname she gave the older woman and uses regardless of if the woman is present or not. A bad habit.).

She taught her through her actions that kindness isn’t reflected out outer beauty. Though most think she looks scary, as gnarled and scarred as she is (has a very mean resting bitch face), her heart is kind and compassionate. She tends to children with the utmost of patience, though tolerates no blatant disrespect. She remembers the names of everyone she’s been introduced to and what was last told to her about their day or life. Volunteers her free time to visiting the less fortunate and charging them no fee for her services. Hard shell, ooey, gooey insides.

14. Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

Oh she has guilty pleasures. A lot of the sweets she buys at Sesali’s bakery are guilty pleasures of her because she buys them by the dozens. Also mystery novels. She will re-read mystery novels she’s already read because she still likes the narrative and the build up to the big reveal. And theater. It’s fun, no matter how obvious the plot is sometimes.

15. What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

Oddly enough, she finds sitting down to do her hair or having to apply make up or even more complicated outfits a waste of time. She’s very utilitarian in that regard. A ponytail will keep her hair out of her face so why spend hours learning how to do complicated braids simply because they look pretty?

Don’t be mistaken though. If Portia or Nadia or Julian want to do her hair or make up or dress her up- the time is no longer wasted. They enjoy doing those sorts of things and letting them enjoy themselves, despite how much she doesn’t understand why its enjoyable to them, means the time is well spent.

On her own though, nah. She’d rather do anything else- just throw on some clothes, toss her hair into a pony tail, and get going.

#ask Odelia #The Arcana Game #arcana fan apprentice #fan apprentice #odelia the artificer

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psychosistr · 5 years

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The Third Caballero- Chapter 5

Summary: A decade goes by as José and Panchito continue to search for their missing caballero. Their search (and an attempt to earn some money gone wrong) leads them to stay in a familiar building where they run into an equally familiar face.

Notes: Here’s another link to the sketches by @levtuve that inspired the fic, as those are the outfits they’re wearing in this chapter xD

-First Chapter-

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

Hope, José learned, was a fleeting resource for many people.

While he and Panchito kept true to their promise of never giving up the search for their missing boyfriend, as time wore on, many others did.

The first to give up were Donald’s extended family members and more distant friends. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, per se, it was simply that, after the first year or so, they had to move on with their lives.

Another year went by and some of Donald’s closer family members stopped holding out hope for his return, too. They were sad, but they felt it was time to grieve and move on.

After a few years of searching, and against his will, Scrooge was forced to give up, too. He’d sunk billions of dollars into search and rescue missions, using his company’s money as well as his own for the search. He chartered deep-sea expeditions, set up underwater base stations and labs, and had even bought out entire fleets of ships to find his missing nephew. Unfortunately, his money began to run lower than his board of directors were comfortable with, and they forced him to stop the expeditions and focus on his company.

Giving in to that decision did not help the old duck’s relationship with his niece in the slightest, judging from what Panchito and José heard. She still blamed her uncle for Donald’s disappearance in the first place, and hearing that he was giving up the search for her brother just widened the emotional gap between them even further. She still talked to the other caballeros every now and then, even if they never had anything more than dead-end leads or false-sightings. She still hoped, however distantly, that they would be the ones to find her brother like they promised.

The years piled up, however, and their communications with the pilot became less and less frequent as time wore on. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that they drifted apart from one another, really, they just had different things to focus on. José and Panchito had to focus on finding their dearest friend, as well as a way to restore José’s magic should the opportunity present itself, which would ultimately aid them in their primary goal.

And Della…well…Della had to look after her kids…

After she’d been fitted with her prosthetic leg, Della slowly cut off her contact with Scrooge until she didn’t even speak to him at all. She resolved to raise the kids on her own, using her trusted plane, the Cloud Slayer, as a sort of mobile home. It allowed her the freedom of flight and gave her the flexibility to keep her work-life and family-life together, often working odd jobs delivering cargo for small companies. While she did still hope that Panchito and José would be able to track down her brother, over time, her smile became less and less genuine and more forced. After almost a decade, they stopped hearing from her altogether.

It seemed, José would often think, that time could wear everyone thin eventually.

Well, except for Panchito, that is. The rooster was ever the optimist, always talking about the first things they’d do after they found Donald. No matter how many dead-ends they ran into, or how many leads turned up short, he would just smile at José and say the whole ordeal would be another funny thing they could tell their third caballero about once they found him again.

There were no doubts that, had Panchito not been by his side, José may have also given up hope by now, too. Not because his feelings for their missing comrade had diminished at all over the years, certainly not- if anything, he felt that his feelings had grown stronger due to longing. He knew Panchito felt it, too, from the way he would gaze up at the sky at night and play his guitar while singing all of Donald’s favorite songs (he said he didn’t want to get rusty while they looked for him).

No, if there was any reason he would give up hope, it would be because the sting of loneliness hurt worse the longer they went without seeing the brave duck’s smiling face.

He had Panchito by his side to help lessen the pain, of course. Ever since that horrible night the pair had become practically inseparable from each other. Maybe it was because they both sought comfort to ease the dull, aching pain in their hearts. Maybe it was because they were all they had left to each other and didn’t want to risk losing one another. Whatever the reason, they were by each other’s side every step of the way as they searched their world and any others they could find for their beloved.

Unfortunately, while they could find comfort and solace in each other to ease the pain on their seemingly endless journey, there was one thing that became more and more difficult to deal with as time went on:

Money.

Living as vagabonds was nothing new to the pair, but doing so for such a long period of time with no set location to hold down a job in proved challenging. They would scrape by selling whatever treasures they came across, stretching the little bits of money they acquired out for as long as possible. Thankfully they didn’t need to worry about housing, as Della allowed them to keep Donald’s houseboat to aid in their search (she’d smiled so sadly at them while giving them the keys, saying that Donald promised it as their home, anyway), but they still needed money for food, water, clothes, their phones, and any building supplies and tools needed to repair the boat along the way.

To help supplement their meager income, José had taken up to one of his old methods of earning quick cash- being a con-artist. It was something he had stepped away from many years ago, even before meeting Donald and Panchito. Conning innocent people out of their money always left a bad taste in his mouth, often leading to an overly-guilty conscience that would compel him to donate as much money as possible to the first person who asked him for a few dollars (often leaving him broke). He hated himself for resorting to such tactics to earn money again, and hated himself even more for dragging Panchito into his scams, as well.

Panchito was never a very good liar. He was honest and blunt and trustworthy, all qualities that José adored about the sweet rooster. However, these qualities also made him a good plant in the audience. His genuine wonder at whatever fake product or hokey slight-of-hand trick or rigged challenge that José set up would get peoples’ attention and draw them in. He was also really good at the more physical challenges, so, when he won, people would believe everything was fair-and-square, not realizing that the only reason the rooster won was due to his impressive strength and skills honed by training as a knight and his many adventures over the years.

Some scams went better than others, though, hence their inevitable need for disguises. They would pretend to be foreigner travelers as often as possible (which, depending on the country they were in at the time, wasn’t always far off). They collected pieces of clothing over the years that allowed them to pass as a multitude of cultural stereotypes, helping to further sell the illusion they were creating.

It was why, on the day they ran into someone rather interesting, they were dressed up as Russian tourists in Panchito’s homeland…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Panchito and José ran around a street corner and headed for the beach, a mob of angry people chasing after them. Still dressed up from their last attempted con, which involved “genuine Russian circus bear training courses”, Panchito was wearing a simple pair of black pants with a heavy red overcoat and a black Russian ushanka hat while José had lost most of his outfit in the ensuing chase, leaving him in an opened brown button-up shirt with a white undershirt and a pair of thick dark blue pants.

José spotted a way out of their current predicament and pointed to a ship down by the docks and then to a tall building a few feet away. “I believe it is time we ‘flew the coop’, so to speak.”

Panchito looked up to where his partner was pointing and grinned, quickly grasping what the other bird meant. “Ohhhh, good one, Zé!” He reached into the thick coat and pulled out his trusty lasso. He swung the rope around and tossed it into the air, easily hooking the crow’s nest of the ship and wrapping the end of the rope around his own hand for a little bit of leverage. “Hold on tight!” He said while scooping the smaller bird up into his arms.

“!!” José held on as tight as he could, clinging for dear life when Panchito took off running before leaping into the air.

The momentum and the odd properties of the lasso allowed them to swing through the air, easily crossing over the ship before the lasso released its hold and they rocketed up onto the building. Thankfully, they’d done this sort of thing enough times by now that they knew how to properly roll when they landed as well as how to stop before they reached the opposite edge of the building.

“Whoo!” Panchito laughed and sat up after they stopped rolling. “That could’ve gone better!”

“Agreed.” José said while rubbing his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness he felt. “What’s worse, we have hardly anything to show for our troubles..” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the few pesos they’d gathered during their last con.

“Aw, don’t sweat it, cariño.” Panchito said while patting the parrot on the back encouragingly. “How were we supposed to know someone would try our lessons out on a REAL bear?”

“Você está certo.” José sighed, putting the money away. “Still, I wish we could have gotten more- this will hardly be enough to patch up the boat, and I’d rather not sleep under that hole in the roof with the storm tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that- I know somewhere we can stay.” Panchito said with a cheerful smile as he stood, offering the smaller bird a hand up.

José smiled slightly in return and took the offered hand, letting himself be pulled up onto his feet. “I am certainly open to suggestions.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is not quite what I had in mind..” José said while eyeing his namorado’s suggested resting place for the evening and adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder.

It was a large mansion along the coast, a twin to one that resided in Brazil. And, just like the one in Brazil, this one was in an equal state of disrepair. Originally, the matching vacation homes were set up as a bit of a joke- one located in Brazil and one in Mexico, both buildings located in areas called Veracruz. Well, part of it was a joke, at least, the main reason they were set up in such a way was so Donald could visit his boyfriends in their homelands easily while technically calling it a “work expedition” for his uncle.

Now, though, the unattended building and messy grounds served as a reminder that no one had visited or lived there since Donald’s disappearance. Apparently it was too harsh of a reminder for his family about what happened, so both locations were left to rot. Even José and Panchito had not stopped by to see the old buildings for a long time…

“I know, I know.” The rooster’s voice cut through José’s reminiscing. “But it’s close to the docks, plenty of rooms to stay in that don’t have holes over them, there’s no one here, aaaaaand-” He spun around so that he was standing in front of his partner, almost hitting him with the large hiking pack he wore on his back, and held up a single key that was by itself on a series of keychains. “It’s free!”

José could not help but chuckle slightly at his boyfriend’s cheerful demeanor. “Are you sure Senhor Scrooge will not mind?” He questioned. Even though dark storm clouds were already covering the sky and threatening to unleash their torrential downpour any minute now, he did not want to trespass on the property owned by one of their beloved’s relatives.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” Panchito encouraged while opening the gate and heading for the front door. “He hasn’t checked on the place in years. Besides, we’re just spending a night or two- it’s not like there’s any food for us to eat or bills to pay!”

“I suppose you are correct..” José conceded with a shrug, following the other bird to the front door just as he started to feel the air pressure shift- a sure sign of a heavy storm soon to follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully the lock only stuck a little when Panchito tried the key, allowing them easy enough access via the creaky, unused doors. They were momentarily distracted by the dust their arrival stirred up, and proceeded to open up a few windows to air the building out, forgetting to lock the door behind themselves due to their need for fresh air.

After the air was cleared and they stopped sneezing, the two birds took their time exploring the old mansion. It gave them a sense of nostalgia to finally set foot in such a familiar place after so long- it was almost like coming home after a trip, but with a sense of melancholy and longing that hung in the air.

Each hall they passed contained pictures of the Duck/McDuck family. Every smiling face from various people, most of which they hadn’t seen in years, left the duo with a growing pit in their chests.

A familiar emptiness that had not yet been filled…

José noticed that the unpleasant trip down memory lane was starting to make the rooster’s ever-present smile slip. To distract him, he placed a hand on his companheiro’s shoulder, startling the other out of his thoughts and making him look at the parrot with a curious tilt of his head.

“How about I prepare us some dinner, meu bem? I managed to get a bag of those tamarind candies you like so much.” The green bird asked with a soft smile.

That instantly brought a bright, excited smile to the other’s face, his hands clenching into fists in front of him as he practically buzzed with anticipation. “¡¿Chaca chaca?!” At a nod from his novio, Panchito let out an excited grito and scooped the smaller bird into his arms in an eager hug. “AAAAIIYYHAAA! Gracias, cariño!” He gave José’s face several kisses to show the depths of his gratitude.

José laughed merrily at his partner’s restored cheer and patted him on the shoulders, signaling he wanted to be placed safely back on the ground again. “You can have them AFTER we finish a proper meal first.”

Panchito set him down with a nod, his smile so big it practically split his face. “Okay!” He gave his boyfriend one last kiss on the forehead before finally letting him go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

José was pleasantly surprised to discover both the plumbing and electricity to still be functional in the old mansion (granted, he had to run the tap in the kitchen for a few seconds before the water came out clear, but at least it was working). He spent about an hour preparing an easy but filling recipe of galinhada, deciding he needed a taste of his own home after sampling so many of Panchito’s local favorites. He felt like he was technically cheating a little bit by using freeze-dried vegetables and meat-substitutes, but there wasn’t much else he could do- they traveled better than fresh ingredients, lasted longer between meals, and they didn’t have the money to get anything fresher at the moment. Then again, given that he’d seen Panchito eat a bowl of mud and snails before, he doubted the other bird would notice much.

After spooning the rice dish into two bowls, storing the leftovers in containers, and leaving the pot he’d cooked everything in soaking in the sink (he always made sure to bring some camping-style collapsible cookware and dishes with them, as it made preparing meals easier while they were away from the boat), José carried the bowls back to one of the upstairs guest rooms where he knew Panchito would be waiting.

He prepared to open the door and walk in with the food, but, hearing the other’s voice caught his attention and he stopped to peek in through where the door remained ajar. Inside, he saw Panchito sitting cross legged on the bare mattress (they’d taken the dirty covers off and tossed them in another room already, the smell was unbearable) with his back to the door. Over the rooster’s shoulder, José could make out something familiar that made his heart clench painfully.

It was an old picture of himself, Panchito, and Donald- a photo taken on their first official date to a nice pizza restaurant/arcade shortly after their second defeat of Felldrake. Many of their closer friends joked that the trio had already been dating long before that point, but that was the day they actually talked it over and decided to try going out. They had a fun day eating junk food, playing games, winning prizes, and just enjoying each other’s company. It had been a wonderful experience and a great way to mark the beginning of their romantic relationship. They capped off the evening with a walk to the park where they laid on the grass and looked at the stars. To commemorate the occasion, Donald had decided to take a group picture and, as he held his new cell phone as far out above them as he could reach to fit them all in the frame, Panchito and José decided to surprise him by planting a matching pair of kisses on his cheeks right as he pressed the button. The resulting image involved a rather red-faced duck with his beak hanging open, a grinning rooster, and a pleased parrot all looking at the camera.

José had a copy of the picture as well, framed safely and nailed to the wall in the houseboat. He wanted to preserve the memory as neatly as possible.

Panchito’s copy, on the other hand, was extremely worn and weathered. He often kept it tucked away in one of his holsters so he could pull it out whenever he pleased. This resulted in the once-glossy paper losing its shine, a large crease forming down the middle, the edges crinkling, and blurred patches to appear on the paper from the way the normally happy bird would gently caress the image of his beloved with his thumb, much as he was now.

“What do you think, mi patito?” Panchito asked the photo with a voice trying just a little too hard to sound genuinely happy. “It’s been a while since we had a nice vacation, huh? Don’t worry, though, we’re only staying a day or two, then we’ll be right back to looking for you, mi amor.” There was a pause for a moment, the normally high-levels of energy the rooster gave off draining from him as his shoulders slumped. “…We miss you, Donald…”

José frowned as he listened to the one-sided conversation. This was not an unusual occurrence, sadly. He’d walked in on such moments many times over the past decade. Every time he’d enter the room, Panchito would be startled, quickly scrambling to hide the picture and pretend he was doing something else. It was the one thing he refused to talk about and tried to keep a secret from his partner. José could not fault him for such a thing- it was likely his way of dealing with the constant stress and let-downs they endured as the years wore on.

To avoid startling the melancholy man, José walked back the way he came quietly before turning back towards the room and calling from further down the hall. “Panchi? Could you get the door, meu bem? My hands are full.” He waited a couple of seconds before walking towards the room again.

“Sure thing, Zé!” Panchito called back with his usual enthusiasm. He soon opened the door and greeted the green bird with a bright smile, sniffing the air with a delighted hum. “Mhhh, that smells great.” His stomach gave a loud growl and he laughed before taking his bowl and heading back to the bed. “Looks like my stomach agrees!”

José chuckled a bit as well, taking a seat next to Panchito on the bed. “I am glad to hear it. Your stomach will also be happy to know that there are plenty of leftovers waiting downstairs if it is still unsatisfied after your meal.”

They grinned at each other and ate their meal in relative silence, enjoying the peace and quiet as well as the taste of a good home-cooked meal. When they were done, they spread their spare blanket and pillows out over the bed and cuddled together while watching the rain fall through the window and eating Panchito’s favorite candies. It was a nice, calming way to spend the evening.

That is, until the deafening sound of something being knocked over downstairs echoed through the otherwise quiet house.

“?!!!” Both birds were startled by the loud noise and instantly shot up out of the bed and onto their feet.

“Did you lock the door?” José asked while grabbing his umbrella from where it rested by their packs.

“I thought you did..” Panchito admitted with a slight frown as he drew one of his pistols.

They shared a look that communicated their thoughts to each other perfectly: It was likely some burglar that wanted to ransack the old building thinking it was abandoned. Nothing they couldn’t handle, really- the crook would probably run off the moment he saw Panchito’s gun. If not, the poor fool would be taught a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget…

Armed and ready for a fight if necessary, the pair made their way back down the stairs as quietly as possible. They followed the sounds of things banging against each other and crashing to one of the downstairs master-suites.

They froze momentarily when they noticed which room the noises were coming from: Donald’s old room. At all of the vacation houses Scrooge owned, there were special rooms set aside for himself, Donald, Della, and one or two other close family members they would take trips with on a regular basis such as Gladstone or Fethry.

Righteous fury burned through the two caballeros at the thought of some petty thief rifling through their beloved’s belongings. With his gun raised in warning, Panchito kicked open the door.

“¡No se mueva!” He shouted first in Spanish, then repeated it again in English to cover any language gap. “Don’t move!”

They saw a white feathered duck on the other side of the room, standing in front of a large framed portrait of Donald with his uncle and his sister. The intruder had his back to them and had apparently been in the middle of picking up some fallen knick-knacks and miniature diecast boat figurines from the dresser nearby. He was dressed in a dripping-wet green jacket and a black cap that was sitting askew on his head.

José got an odd feeling looking at the intruder. Something about him felt..different..

“Turn around.” He said firmly, keeping his umbrella tight in his fist and preparing to lash out if need-be.

The intruder slowly turned around to face them, raising his hands above his shoulders to show he was unarmed. Once he was facing them fully, they could see two things.

The first was the rest of his outfit, which consisted of a simple but dirty (and equally soaked) yellow-brown sweater under the coat and a golden necklace with a purple glass center.

The second was that he seemed completely and utterly terrified. His eyes were screwed shut and his whole body was trembling.

Panchito’s previous harshness faded slightly at seeing how scared the duck looked. “Abre tus ojos.” He commanded while keeping an eye on the duck. “Come on, look at us.”

The duck hesitantly complied, opening one eye nervously just a sliver. “……” Unfortunately, that only seemed to frighten him more when he saw Panchito still holding his gun. “!!” He moved as if he was about to try ducking or running away, but he stepped on one of the small boats still littering the floor and slipped, his back and head hitting the wall and his hat slipping down over his face.

José relaxed slightly after witnessing the clumsy display. This intruder was clearly not a threat. He reached over with his umbrella and lightly pressed down so Panchito would lower his pistol. “I think it is safe to assume this one is not dangerous.”

“Yeah.” Panchito agreed while holstering his gun. “The only one he’s hurting is himself.” He looked at the duck across the room again and called over. “It’s okay! We won’t hurt you! Estás a salvo aquí! Can you…stand…uhh…”

Panchito’s concerned questioned died on his tongue as the intruder did just that.

As the duck stood up, his hat fell off to reveal the messy little tuft of feathers on the top of his head. He rubbed at the spot on the back of his head that had hit the wall and opened his eyes in the process. Once he was standing up straight again, he looked at the other birds across the room from him with a raised eyebrow, likely confused over why they were both staring at him with such wide eyes.

They couldn’t help but stare, though. Not with how, when looking at the duck in front of them and the photo directly behind him, they were looking at the EXACT SAME FACE.

“D..Donald..?” José’s voice shook as it left his beak, the grip on his umbrella going slack and causing it to fall to the floor at his feet.

It was impossible…

It couldn’t be…!

It was-!

“Donald!” Panchito shouted with tears already forming in his eyes. “¡Mi amigo!” Unlike José, who was still frozen in place from the shock, Panchito was already running across the room to scoop the duck up into his arms and hold onto him tightly. “AAAAAAH!” He pulled back just enough to look into the confused duck’s eyes, words firing out of his mouth a mile-a-minute. “Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! We got Xandra and the girls to help, and your uncle sent submarines, and me and Zé traveled all over and-!”

Then, with a confused frown and a voice that was so very different from the one they associated with that face- one that sounded deeper and far more “normal” and with a slight Spanish accent- the duck Panchito had been hugging so enthusiastically asked one simple question that caused their raised spirits to plummet once again:

“Who’s Donald?”

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Just wanted to put in a quick description of the food here for those who’ve never had any of it before: Chaca chaca is a spicy tamarind candy- when I was little, my friends from Mexico would try to dare/trick me and my sister to eat it because they thought we would find it too spicy (my sister did, but I loved spicy food, so the joke was on them xD). Galinhada, on the other hand, is a Brazilian chicken and rice dish that you can mix in with vegetables like peas, peppers, or whatever you really want as long as it’s got chicken and rice- it’s a really tasty and filling meal that my Brazilian friend’s mom used to make pretty often and share with us as thanks for giving her some fresh saffron and turmeric (my grandfather’s sister’s husband was from India, so they would bring us some spices whenever they stopped by- saved us SO much money because that stuff’s expensive XP).

Translation Notes:

“Você está certo.” - "You're right."

mi patito - my duckling (I just love the trend I see of them calling Donald duckling x3)

“¡No se mueva!” - “Don’t move!”

“Abre tus ojos.” - "Open your eyes."

Estás a salvo aquí! - You are safe here!

#the three gay caballeros #three gay caballeros #the three caballeros #legend of the three caballeros #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt 2017 #panchito pistoles #jose carioca #panjose #The Third Caballero #Anastasia!AU

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