dantespilled
🌊 Noctambulist ⚓
Blog of trashes | Born for OC x Canon | Commission: closed | Brainrotting DanAya for 24/7 | Not spoiler free!
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does anyone know why alt dantes uses 私 instead of his usual 俺
i still dont understand that part LOL there is someone who says he uses watashi for both himself and chaldea dantes so im ???
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danaya being trapped in cycle of love and tragedy makes me so ill in the head
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Roleplay
“The young miss of the house has her moods,” the butler paused to draw the curtains over a window, not once looking at the man at his side. “She may call on you at odd hours, but it will be your duty to assist with whatever she needs. Questions are unnecessary, unless you do not understand her request. Is that clear?”
“Very.” He replied lowly, masking the long quirk of a grin before the other man could see it. “I am to begin the new schedule tonight, I take it?”
That earned him a look, brief and sharp, from the butler. Those pale eyes truly didn’t miss much, but he was certain that he’d armed himself well enough to avoid being caught by merely a glance. They studied one another in silence before the other man nodded, turning to lead the way down the too-quiet hall.
“Indeed. Follow me. Once you’ve been outfitted properly, training will begin.”
-
His new uniform fit well and thankfully remained easy to move in. The frills along the apron were, in his opinion, unnecessary. But it was the standard, and both the locale and pay were good. A minor annoyance wasn’t worth kicking up a fuss over, so long as he could continue his work. The hours were long, and he’d already caught a fair share of staff gossip about his position, but he made sure to leave behind a scene that could attract no undue scrutiny.
Clean was clean, after all, and he had no fear of bugs or heights. If anything, whatever pest he encountered ought to be afraid of him instead.
“The young lady is asking for her meal,” the sharp voice of the head maid broke through his reverie and he paused, glancing at the polishing cloth and heaps of silver before him. Most had already been done, shined to a mirror finish before the sudden interruption. What was left, besides a few stray forks, could be handled in under an hour if someone applied themselves.
“Is that so?” He restrained himself from smiling too wide, dropping the rag in the bucket that had been provided for disposal. “Then she should be tended to at once, hm?”
“Without any of your sass, mind.” The small woman corrected, eyes narrowing as she watched him stand. She didn’t question why the spots where his shadow fell were darker than they ought to be, merely put her hands upon her hips and fixed him with an openly suspicious look. “You shouldn’t even need to speak, honestly. Simply deliver the meal and attend your other duties.”
He caught a pointed reply before it could emerge from his mouth, curving his lips up into a smile to show that he would oblige. It wasn’t necessarily a nice smile, but the head maid made no comment on it. “Of course. With your leave, then?”
She waved him away irritably, pressing forward to examine the result of his past few hours of work with a furrowed brow. He left her behind in silence, stopping only to scrub his hands and collect the tray left in the kitchen for the young mistress of the house. Whatever had been set beneath the plate cover had a savory aroma to it, and there was a slim loaf of bread waiting just beside it, still warm and steaming.
He considered dumping it somewhere for another servant to find, but thought better of it. The young miss could do what she wanted with it, he didn’t particularly care.
Knocking on the heavy studio door produced a hollow sound, a as though the room beyond were truly cavernous and empty. Some of the staff believed that it was, since no one was allowed to discuss what the few who were allowed in happened to see after they entered. He waited only for the muffled command for him to enter, then eased past the door with a spark of anticipation darting up his spine.
Canvases covered the walls, dominating nearly all of the available space with their shapes and colors. He glanced over the portraits, bypassing the landscapes and still-life’s without interest, until his eyes settled on the only other figure in the room.
His excitement had been a spark - a mere trifling thing, but the surge of victorious recognition that swelled up in his chest was truly poignant and marvelous.
The young lady drew back from her easel with frown, balancing her palette with care as a thin brush waited to be cleaned in her other hand. She didn’t look at him, narrowed green eyes focused on the canvas before her with rapt attention. Where some painters pulled their sleeves back to lessen the chance of staining, hers remained stubbornly close around her wrists, masking everything but her hands themselves from view. She’d drawn her skirt up beneath herself at least, to form a sort of cushion from the blunt seat of her chair, but she held herself so still that it would have been easy to mistake her for a statue.
“My lady,” he all but hummed, relaxing now that he’d confirmed what he’d already suspected. That was who he’d hoped she would be, and that the memory of her face had not faded in the slightest. “Your lunch is ready, and will be cold if you continue to work.”
“Just set it somewhere.” She didn’t acknowledge his presence with anything but that offhand remark, reaching up to dab the bristles of her brush at a spot on the canvas. “I’ll get to it in a bit.”
Lies, he nearly said, catching himself just in time. There was another way to get her attention, and it would be fun to see her reaction.
“Ayako,” he began slowly, purposefully, adjusting his grasp on the tray as he watched her twitch at the use of her actual name. “Here I find you to be as dense as expected, like you’ve learned nothing at all.”
“What the -” she cut herself off when she finally looked at him, jaw working with surprise and abandoned frustration as her lovely green eyes widened. The brush she held trembled in her loosened grip, balancing at the last possible moment instead of clattering to the floor.
“Ayako.” Dantes replied with smug pleasure, grinning now that he had her full and undivided attention. “I did say that I would find you no matter the dream, didn’t I?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Ayako demanded, and he laughed at the conflicted look on her face.
He’d needed to look the part in order to find her in some dreams, didn’t she know? If not, well, she would now.
Keep reading
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Wait now i realize how there are similarities between the alice singularity and oc2
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I need my dantes content. I need my food
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NO WAY ISRFFGGTTGH USAGI ROUTO AGHHH SENSEIIII????? IM GOING CRAZY THIS IS TECHNICALLY OFFICIAL ART YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME.?!?!?????? EXPLODING EVERYONE????
the differences are making me crazy and crying... love how dantes is just straight up soft and even deadass nuzzling into dao meanwhile he who is resolve has that famous very small blush on his cheek like CLEARLY he loves it BUT as a man of Determination EX WHEN FACED WITH HiS DESTINY AND STAR he's reduced to this...............
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on my 10th wip for edguda fic, been thinking about monte cristo's fighting style like i know its explicitly stated enough about his left arm but you really get to see how evident and reliant he is on his right dominant arm .... like literally every attack/damage taken he has, mon-mon uses his RIGHT arm while his prosthetic arm is more for grabbing his sheathe to take out his sword because i bet that its really heavy even as his strength itself is B.... guh... i would really like to see the material book for him already...moreover, i like how his fighting style includes a,,... rapier? i think its a rapier... on both ascensions....the designer for his weapon hasnt said anything so far but theyve talked about how amazing the scabbard's belt animation is.... but a rapier for the count is just fitting...i love the emphasis on his status as "Count" / "Earl" status in this saint graph since normally we see him as that brooding dark flame of vengeance whereas Monte Cristo was the part of dantes in which enacted his revenge in paris and so that flame of "nobility" is especially prominent here.
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i looooove characters who are sacrificial lamb coded. characters who have never lived for themselves. characters born to be a tool, a weapon, a sacrifice, all of the above. a character raised by the heroes to save the world, at any expense, even their own health, even their own life. a character raised by the villains to end the world, at any expense, even their own health, even their own life. characters who are denied personhood so they can be used as tools instead. characters who never even had a chance to be people because they were shaped into something else from the moment they were born. characters who were born to die.
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dantes telling ayako to sleep early, eats well, take care of herself, listens to everyone around her if she wants to meet him again as she wont be able to see him again if something happens to her (which both of them loaths for that to happen) at the end of oc2
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