With Gabriel gone for Christmas, Adrien is alone. So he decides to spend as much time as Chat Noir as possible, sleeping during the day and hunting around Paris at night. Until Marinette decides it’s time to intervene.
Here! Have some Christmas ANGST! Actually, I wrote this a while ago and totally FORGOT ABOUT IT! Now it’s inaccurate because of the Christmas Special, but oh well. Enjoy anyway.
Adrien always tried to get excited about it. Frankly, it was hard not to be. The whole of Paris was festive—trees in parks, people bundled up with hot chocolate, store fronts decorated with lights and garlands. Everyone was abuzz for it all through December, planning and exchanging gifts.
Even Adrien had received a few parcels from his friends the last day before break, which was a first. Ever. Nino had gotten him the new Mecha Strike expansion, which he’d been playing religiously since. Alya had given him a pair of Ladybug socks, saying he’d mentioned them offhand a few months before (he didn’t remember doing so, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the gift any less). Even Marinette had given him something, which he hadn’t at all expected.
But maybe he should have.
The gloves she’d made him were perfect. Not blue, like the scarf she’d given him for his birthday, but dark green with white accents. The cookies she’d made along with them had been phenomenal as well, though he shouldn’t have expected any less there either.
He’d been a little embarrassed when she’d given him the gifts, to be honest. He’d noticed her signature on the scarf a few months prior and promptly interrogated Nathalie on the subject. She’d confessed to the “mix-up” on threat of him telling his father, which would have gone over poorly for her.
His father hadn’t gotten him anything for his birthday—not even a stupid pen.
Happy(it’s still a bit far away)30th Anniversary Final Fantasy!
The real project all along was making something like this! a recreation of the NES version of FF1 battle hub. I took inspiration from both the game, dissidia and it has a bit of the desolate hope going on.
I’ve always been a Final Fantasy fan but became even more of a geek about it these last years.
This project along the other one must have been the most I have ever spent drawing something in my life (I think), I even had to take long breaks between drawing the characters, the hub and everything else.
I’m ready to just end both drawings here, I know I could have done more, but I’m already satisfied with the final product.
One Cold Night; 17K, nsfw. They work a case, get snowed in, and share a bed, all in time for Christmas.
“Dean, are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m just ─” Dean shivers again. His teeth clack together. “Jesus Christ, it’s cold.”
The diner ─ Noemi’s ─ is bigger than a boxcar, but not by much. The counter is crowded up against the bright red booths, and the strip of black and white floor between them is loud enough to make Dean’s eyes cross. Christmas lights and fake pine garland are swooped around the walls. The heater is cranked up so high that the vents are whistling; it feels like a blast furnace after the hour Dean spent staring at a bloody patch of snow.
The guy they want is about halfway down the aisle. He fits the description Dean got from the park rangers ─ a junior college dropout who swings a wrench at the body shop off the highway. He’s wearing a dirty bomber jacket and dark brown coveralls, and beanie is pulled down around his ears. He’s hunched over a hot chocolate topped with what looks like a whole can of whipped cream.
“Excuse me,” Dean says. “You Louis Burgin?”
After a pause, the guy looks up. A handful of lank, dishwater hair falls in his face. His visible eye is bloodshot in a ‘hair of the dog’ kind of way; he rubs it and asks, “Who wants to know?”
“Agent McCafferty.” Dean flashes his badge, then nods at Cas. “Agent Charlton. FBI. We have some questions about the night James Oester died.”
Burgin pauses again. Then he shrugs and pushes his hair out of his face. “Whatever, yeah.”