Word Prompts (E14): Enthusiasm (2016-01-26)

I am the cobbler’s apprentice.

I suppose it doesn’t seem like a very interesting job from the outset. Shoes are shoes–everyone has them. They go on your feet and walk on the ground and step in some things you’d rather not mention.

But I like the job well enough. I get to meet a lot of people–after all, everyone has shoes–and even if I don’t get to talk to them very much, it’s still nice. Sometimes, I like to imagine how their days are going, or have gone, or will go.

Maybe the shoes I help make will lead them on an adventure. Maybe they’ll bump into the love of their life while wearing my shoes. Maybe someone will climb a mountain or go on a ship to faraway lands, each step made with the shoes that I sell them.

Of course, the truth is probably less glamorous: walking around the town like usual, seeing the same people, maybe even marching through the fields and trying to find an errant sheep. But it doesn’t make it any less appealing.

Home is home and friends are friends; to a lost lamb, even the fields are a vast new world.

Maybe someday my shoes will take me somewhere beyond this cobbler’s shop. But for now, I am the cobbler’s apprentice, and I am happy with my life.

~

A/N: Tiny thing I mashed out in ten minutes because I had so much work to do and 😦

Ahaha, and watch me not use the word in the drabble. Yup, because that’s how I roll.

Are you going to keep writing Ain’t no Rest or is that done? I loved reading it but you haven’t updated it in a long time.

I’m sorry to say that Ain’t No Rest is “officially” on hiatus–so I may get back to it sometime in the future, but unfortunately not anytime soon. I’m glad you did enjoy it while it lasted, though.

I do kind of miss it, but that fic just stalled on me and I didn’t want to force it and grow to despise it, you know? As it is, my writing style is kind of sporadic–in that, I’ll leave something alone for a few months and suddenly come back to it with a burning need to write something for it. So fingers crossed 🙂

alexander–ludwig:

Color version of Alexander Ludwig’s Fluant Magazine photo shoot (2015).

The Gaston twins, Gaston Jr and Gaston the Third.

Gaston Jr, who willingly and enthusiastically goes by the nickname “Deuce,” is extremely a little more confident than his brother. While he’s not as narcissistic as his father, he does think of his body as a gift to humankind and often flaunts it with casual semi-nudity and strategic lounging. He is, specifically, in pictures 1, 2, 3, and 5.

Gaston the Third, who prefers to be called “Theo,” is more reserved than his older brother. He is pictured in 4, 6, 7, 8 and 9. (He possibly also has a crush on a certain mad scientist, and brings Carlos interesting spare parts that he scavenges from barge runs. But without looking like he’s trying too hard. Deuce thinks its hilarious.)

Light It Up (Burn It Down), 1/? (2016-01-25)

A little over four years into Ben’s reign, the Isle of the Lost goes dark.

In a literal sense, it’s always been dark: the island never lent itself well to development, and so only a small area was installed with power lines; the sun, too, was almost constantly obscured by fog. But now it’s also figuratively dark.

It takes two weeks for Ben to be informed that the cameras monitoring the most populated part of the Isle have stopped broadcasting. That the last barge of supplies has yet to come back.

The Isle of the Lost is still a part of his kingdom, even if it’s residents are not necessarily his people. He has a responsibility.

And then, news of burglaries and thefts come in. Small things at first–some food, some blankets, clothes. It’s disheartening, but not necessarily bewildering–even a prosperous kingdom like Auradon has homeless people.

Ben doesn’t think it’s related at first.

Except it keeps happening. More frequently and in greater quantities. And it spreads to other stores–a pharmacy, an electronics store, hardware store, a plant nursery–to the point where finally the police must admit to their king that they cannot stop it.

This series of crimes are the work of a well organized and strategic mind, these thefts are pointed and specific. It is no longer the actions of a single, desperate person trying to survive, but rather a group of people. A group whose motivations and background are completely unknown. A group who has yet to leave any evidence beyond the lack of clues.

Then a jewelry store is broken into.

While this particular burglary still has a distinct lack of mistakes on the thieves’ parts, it does bring up a lead. Two actually.

The jewelry store heist finally pushes the case up from minor crime to grand larceny, meaning that an actual detective is put in charge. The detective is an old man, more prone to talking about past cases than current ones–the old days when things were actually exciting–but that tendency proves to be beneficial. And worrying.

“If I didn’t know she was trapped on that rock, I’d think this was de Vil.”

Of course, that information isn’t nearly as worrying as the other lead. Because the actual jewels stolen? They weren’t the most expensive or the prettiest or even, in contrast, the easiest to grab and pawn off.

No, the gems stolen were done so for a specific reason, the Fairy Godmother says solemnly, those gems are ingredients for certain, powerful, magic spells.

Or curses.

—

After a month of seemingly random thefts and silence from the Isle, a message is sent to Ben.

Technically? All of the glass in the castle shatters except for one lone mirror. The hand mirror Ben’s mother received as a gift from his father–one of the few magical items in the castle.

Though the household is spooked, nobody is injured, which gives Ben a tentative sense of optimism when he finally sees the message:

“Where is Mr. Smee?” The mirror asked in stark letters on gray stone. No matter what Ben said, it would show him nothing else.

But what a strange message: unlike the rest of Captain Hook’s crew, Mr. Smee had not been banished to the Isle despite being the Jolly Roger’s boatswain and thus fairly high ranking amongst the pirates. The Darling family’s defense of him as an individual made it so that he could have lived a completely new life in Auradon. But Smee’s deep loyalty, even to a man as evil and cruel as James Hook, led to him working on supply barges to the Isle of the Lost.

… such as the last one that had yet to return. Did he defect? Was Mr. Smee somehow in charge of the radio silence from the Isle? Is that what the message is trying to convey?

Running a kingdom is not easy, and while Ben has many responsibilities as king, many matters he has to delegate–to his councilors, to the other royal families in charge of their regions–but he thinks he ought to check into this matter himself.

—

The nearest point to the Isle of the Lost is the resort town of Charmington. As the name implies, it’s under the rule of House Charming. One of the kingdom’s less… cooperative royal families. Ben remembers not being keen on Chad Charming during their Auradon Prep days, and his father certainly never enjoyed interacting with Charles Charming.

Of course, while that worked well for his father’s “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy in regards to the Isle of the Lost, it’s making this investigation rather… tedious for Ben.

Oh, he’s still going to be inspecting the warehouses in charge of shipping supplies to the Isle–he’s king, there’s not much he can’t do in Auradon–but apparently Chad is going to be dogging his every step. As a “guide,” of course.

This does backfire when Ben actually sees the warehouses though, “We’re sending them garbage?” He asks, his outraged question bouncing off the walls. The stench of the so-called supplies is disgusting, but not as much as what it means.

Ben knows that the Isle depends entirely on the barges–there’s a limited amount of arable land and useable resources, even if they had the tools to do anything–and it’s frankly nauseating that they’ve been living off of Auradon’s scraps. No, not even: Auradon’s waste.

Has this been happening all along?

Chad’s face is pinched, brow furrowed almost in irritation at being caught. But it completely shutters in fear, going pale, when Ben asks the question he came to Charmington for:

“Where is Mr. Smee?”

—

The Knights of Auradon is a law enforcement agency beholden to the greater good of the kingdom, not royalty. Ben is relieved when Captain de Châteaupers arrives because he knows the matter will be in good hands. The Charmington police department cannot be trusted for this: as it is, he’s pretty sure an innocent man will be sent to prison in Chad’s place anyway. The Charming family can certainly afford the best lawyers, given how much they made by shipping trash instead of supplies and pocketing the money for themselves.

Ben leaves the town, a sour taste in his mouth, and he channels his anger into reassigning the Isle of the Lost supply route. The House Atlantica is fair, and though their region is farther from the Isle, they have a stronger ocean presence. Negotiations with Princess Melody go well–at least one thing in this situation is.

The Knights find the body four days after they begin their investigation, wrapped in tarp and weighed down by cement blocks beneath the pier. It’s bloated and decayed, a horrifying thing on which the coroner can only give estimates. Over a month, for sure, but more exact is impossible.

It’s enough, though. Enough to connect the burglaries and the message. He doesn’t know how to control his mother’s mirror–it’s still displaying the same question–but he takes time out of his busy day to read the Knights’ reports out loud, hoping it will appease whoever is on the other end. Whoever is demanding justice for a man that would have been forgotten otherwise.

When Princess Melody sends word of her House’s first successful supply run to the Isle, she also sends news that the missing Charmington barge was sent back as well–the captain unharmed but, somehow, missing his memories of the past two months. She also includes the encounter her House’s captain had with the lone islander who greeted him on the docks.

The captain pointedly remarked on how foggy it had been, how only the docks jutting into the ocean was visible, the rest of the Isle hidden from sight. He described a young woman, purple hair and green eyes, and her brief message.

“The supplies are appreciated, but we are not appeased.”

An alarming statement, Ben thinks, upon hearing it. He shoots a look at his mother’s mirror, never far from him these days. Nothing changes, it still asks after Mr. Smee, even though Ben continues to read aloud to it updates on the case.

For a few weeks, he doesn’t quite forget it, but he is no longer so actively concerned. The burglaries have stopped completely–likely because they already have what they need–and the justice system chugs along, the case switching hands from Knights to lawyers.

Yet again, Ben is reminded of how imperfect his kingdom is, when Chad Charming walks free and an Andrew Baker is thrown into jail instead. Something is rotten in Auradon, and something must be done about it.

From the corner of his eye, Ben spots the mirror’s image changing. When Ben gives it his full attention, he sees the question disappear and, in its place, a blue rose appears, floating upright. A single petal wilts and falls off, drifting slowly, ominously, and downwards out of view.

~

A/N: I’ll be honest, @walker2702, your prompt spawned an absolutely fascinating AU in my head which kind of blindsided me as I was writing it.

Like–I had no idea Mr. Smee was going to be mentioned, much less murdered by Chad Charming. I had no idea there was going to be a rose curse. I had no idea Carlos wasn’t even going to appear in this even though I kept writing with the hope that he would appear.

So I guess this means I’ll be writing a part two for this?

😀 I’m excited, I missed writing Descendants. So thanks, walker2702!

‘we have magic on our side’ Ben says almost warning, ‘so do i’ i say with a slight condescending tone ‘and all three of my magic users could utterly destroy the fairy godmother’ Carlos Ain’t No Rest

Well, walker2702, I’m sorry to say that Ain’t No Rest is on a hiatus, but I do greatly appreciate this prompt. So here’s a different AU–hope you enjoy reading it, because it was certainly a lot of fun to write!

[I know the drabble doesn’t have the prompt in it though it is largely influential in the development and feel. Hopefully this means I will write a part two that does have that cool exchange in it]

iheartnewt:

Kaya Scodelario for Wonderland magazine

Princess Melody, daughter of Prince Eric and Princess Ariel of The Little Mermaid fame, has already graduated from Auradon Prep and is now attending the University of Auradon with a double major in political science and oceanography.

~

A/N: Like Esteban “Zephyr” de Châteaupers, Melody is an already established Disney next generation. I couldn’t really change her name–given that there’s no way to misconstrue it as a nickname like Esteban “Zephyr” and her name is a fairly important part of her movie–nor would I really want to anyway.

I also figure that she’s actually one of the oldest of the next generation (why I have her at university instead of ambiguously high school). Say around the age of my fancast set of older Lost kids the “Predecessors?” And seeing as how Uri, son of Ursula, is one of them… 😀

She does have a younger sister still at Auradon Prep.

vuittonable:

fka twigs in “wild child“ by patrick demarchelier for vogue us january 2015

Now presenting Esmerelda and Phoebus de Châteaupers’ twin daughters:

Phillipa “Phia” and Phyllis “Lizzie” de Châteaupers, younger sisters of Esteban “Zephyr” de Châteaupers

~

A/N: … well… seeing as how I did technically make it home before midnight (with thirty minutes to spare!) I figured I still ought to do something for a daily post, even if it’s not very much. So here we go–a Descendants Fancast!

I just sometimes spot really cool outfits or photoshoots and wonder who would this be in Descendants. Because I am still Descendants trash despite my dearth of writing. This photoset seemed like a “hero” side, but toeing the line of edgy and cool towards villain. And given how Esmerelda’s storyline almost went… well. They would be rather more accepting of Lost kids.

Why Phillipa and Phyllis? Well, given everyone in this world strangely seemed to be named after their parents and yet Zephyr exists in The Hunchback of Notre Dame sequel… well. That could be a nickname. And someone already came of with Esteban which is rather cool. So I’ve accepted that headcanon. So it seems fair that if the son is phonetically named after Esmerelda, then the twin daughters ought to be phonetically named after their father–hence “Ph” names. 

Well… there aren’t exactly many of them. But I felt that Phillipa “Horse Lover” and Phyllis “Green” resonated well? Because Phoebus’ horse Achilles is a character in his own right–and no doubt would be the best guard/nanny horse for the twins–where as Esmerelda means “emerald” so in a way Phyllis is also named after her mother.

Maybe one day I will use these ladies in some fic! I’m guessing they’ll be Carlos’ age (since I headcanon Carlos to be 14-15 in comparison to Mal and Evie’s 16 and Jay’s almost 17) and probably be in a few of his classes (the ones that he hasn’t skipped ahead of, anyway).

Untitled drabble (2016-01-23)

By day, our town is a filthy, dusty thing. Concrete and pavement covered in grime, the heavy weight of despair. But at night?

At night our town shines.

Hers is a traveling laugh, notable and dynamic. It changes like the tides, flowing and surging.

Her laugh begins with an exhalation, a soft puff of breath that heralds the rest. It is the vanguard, making way and laying foundations.

Then follow the knights–bright and shining, confident and strong. These sounds turn heads. These sounds draw attention. Ears tuning in for more.

And they are not left wanting. The laugh turns high and sweet, a confectionary masterpiece; colorful sugar melted and formed into intricate spires. The kind that looks sharp but melts easily on the tongue.

Even when the laugh declines, when she begins to run out of air, the laugh continues. It is more movement and feeling than sound, wind rustling through the leaves, a steady percussion of almost laughs, tiny sparks of a cooling fire.

Finally, like a matching parenthesis, she sighs. The last remnant of air punctuating the end of her laugh.

~

A/N: A little short because I wrote this on my phone at a birthday party for someone I don’t actually know.

Also, I don’t want three missed posts in a row and I’m planning on traveling tomorrow so…

Untitled drabble (2016-01-21)

“I can’t just leave him there!” her brother sobs, straining against the grip Jessica has on his arm, pulling him up and away towards the helicopter. Towards safety, “I can’t!” he repeats and pulls again. But Joshua is injured and tired and heartbroken, whereas Jessica is not.

And anyway, Jessica has always been stronger than him. Physically and in this, “That’s not him, anymore!” She shouts back at him over the loud rhythmic beats of the rotors spinning through the air, “We have to go, Josh!”

Her brother goes limp, the fight gone out of him completely. She does not particularly care whether it is out of exhaustion–his body having given up under the strain–or at the truth being so coldly presented to him; he stops fighting her, and together the siblings board the awaiting helicopter.

“Let’s go!” Jessica shouts at the pilot, strapping Joshua’s prone form into a seat before clambering into the passenger seat in the front.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Chance shoots back before lifting them all up into the sky.

From this distance, the lone island they depart from looks like nothing more than a toy. A model volcano, the likes of children’s science fairs everywhere. Except somewhere in the bowels of this volcano is the shell of a base for an organization that almost destroyed the world–if it hadn’t been for her bleeding-heart brother and one integral little fact:

The twins look awfully similar to their mother.

Almost ten years after the near disastrous end of the world, Joshua tries to put the matter out of his mind. He knows his sister worries–wants him to go back to seeing his therapist again–but he thinks, maybe in this specific matter, he will refuse her.

He keeps himself active and involved in the sleepy little community he’s chosen. Somehow, even with all the fame and recognition trailing behind him like an unwanted hanger on, the people of this town have kept a respectful distance while still welcoming him into their fold.

He coaches the little league hockey team. Admittedly, strange, since it’s not something he grew up doing himself–but he was one of the leaders of a vigilante strike force that saved the world before he turned twenty. Fifteen kids isn’t as daunting.

To be honest, he thought the gear would be the problem–guards and pads and a helmet like armor, the hockey stick only one step away from the staves the strike force used– but the frigid air and the scrape of skates on ice keeps him removed enough that he can remember:

This is not Xanadu Island.

It is not the buzzing, oppressive humidity and the scorching, sulfuric heat. It is not running through the trees with the knowledge that enemies are chasing, so close, too close. That his bravado may have led good people to their deaths.

That Joshua left him behind.

No, it is just a small town’s little league hockey team, and now he is only Coach Joshua–not Commander Ortega, face of the Hesperian Corps that saved the world.

Someone has been selling government secrets to terrorist groups and Jessica is going to comb through every single document in this building to find out who.

Chance walks after her–a more leisurely pace than her war march–calm, and a little amused. This is not the first time he has seen her like this, nor will it be the last.

Unlike her brother (may God watch over that poor kid), Jessica used her time as one of the Hesperian Corps’ Commanders Ortega as a stepping stone into her current occupation. A self made one (her call sign is Lady Liberty, which is hilarious in so many ways–frankly, Chance thinks it should be Liberty’s Guard Dog).

While Joshua’s face got plastered on so many news outlets (and fresh faced caricatures of him still get made into TV shows and movies with titles like Hesperian Heroes), Jessica’s role was not quite overlooked so much as deliberately understated. A reputation is only helpful when it’s under control and, over time, the Hesperian Corps has now become nothing more than a resume-padder.

Still, it’s not like Jessica isn’t frightfully good at her job. It takes an unholy fifty four hours (of which, Jessica only slept a maximum of six) and twelve pots of coffee before she’s pinpointed exactly who the traitor is.

And then, she draws it out.

The woman–a temp who had been hired on permanently several years ago, and now enjoyed the lofty position of senior analyst–is included in a group of other employees who blink around at the mess of folders and documents that their conference room has become. Jessica has them sit, a coolly expectant order that gets them all scrambling for chairs (Chance stays standing, two steps behind her like he almost always is–unless he’s in a cockpit, that is).

This is not the first time Jessica has done this, nor will it be the last, but the expression on her face is just as satisfied as ever as the traitor is arrested and dragged away, kicking and screaming. The remaining employees gossip amongst themselves, fleeing the room as soon as Jessica dismisses them, no doubt to spread the tale. This is not an unusual sight.

What is unusual is the way one of them stays behind; watching and waiting and letting Jessica initiate the conversation.

“Ms Savoy,” Jessica says, irked at the power play, but not letting it show (Chance knows he will be hearing about it during the flight home).

“Commander Ortega,” the woman returns, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Agent will do,” Jessica smiles, bright and sharp and deadly, “What can I do for you?”

Savoy tilts her head back–that backwards instinct of defiance in humans–and gently corrects, “It’s what I can do for you, Agent Ortega. Where is your brother?”

Jessica blinks, the only give away to her confusion, “My brother is retired.”

“Yes, yes,” Savoy rolls her eyes, “The conquering hero safely tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Except you might want to check again–the lovely townspeople of Cooperston haven’t seen him in three weeks.”

Chance can feel his own spine stiffening, shoulders tense at the news–he can only imagine how bad Jessica’s is. She hisses a breath between her teeth, but the lack of response is enough to confirm Joshua’s chosen haven and her own lack of communication.

“Now then,” Savoy continues, confident in her victory, “Would you like help in locating your brother, Commander Ortega?”

~

A/N: … I’m rather pleased with this! I mean, a little shaky in some places, but over all: I am greatly pleased 😀

(so, if you couldn’t tell, I was reading Star Wars fanfiction before I went to sleep last night and this is what happened to my dreams)