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acewithapaintbrush · 2 years

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OK so @lunamadrigal put the idea of a Pepa and Alma bodyswap a la Freaky Friday into my head and I had to write something real quick, just a little drabble.

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"I'm so sorry." little Olive wails.

Dolores shushes her daughter and assures her that everything is fine. "These things happen, mija. Don't worry about it. Just calm down and let's get you to bed so you can rest. We'll undo it tomorrow." She turns to her mother and grandmother. "Everything is fine, right?"

Pepa smiles. It feels weird on her face and not just because it's not fine, not fine at all, but also because it is not her face.

And isn't that a nightmare inducing thought.

"Right!"

Alma just nods. Good thing Olive is too young yet to realize what the dark, thundering cloud over her head means.

Dolores accompanies the sniffling child into her new room. The others only wait long enough until they hear the door click shut before completely losing their minds.

"I'm old!" Pepa screeches. She hurries to a mirror. It's slow going. Her old bones creak with every step. She screeches once more when not her own face, but her mother's stares back at her "I'm so old, oh Dios, I'm old!"

"Pepa!" Her mother scolds. Everyone is weirded out seeing the otherwise animated Pepa so oddly still, with hands folded in front of her stomach and head held high. "I'm right here!"

The cloud over her head belies her calm. It is dark and thundering and raining a little. Her eye twitches every time a raindrop lands on her head.

Pepa smirks evilly and points at her mother (at herself?) "Mama. You have a cloud."

A fresh downpour starts up and Alma groans and waves her arms above her head. To no avail.

Felix stares between the two of them. He looks sick. "I don't know how to deal with this. Seriously. I don't."

"Oh yeah? Imagine how I feel!" Pepa squishes her mother's face (or is it her face now?) between her hands, still staring into the mirror. Anything to make the wrinkles disappear. "I'm so old!"

"What kind of gift is this?" Camilo wonders. "Body swapping?"

"Maybe it's a karma gift." Bruno snickers. He turns to Pepa, only at the last second remembering that he has to look at his mother if he wants to address his sister. Wow, that's a headache in the making. "That's what you get for calling me old all the time."

Pepa wants to hit him, but her old body does not cooperate. Julieta has to support her.

"Easy Pepa. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can reverse it in the morning when Olive has calmed down. Let's just go to bed."

"That's a good idea. Things will look better in the morning. Now I need some cuddles to calm down."

Felix looks dazed as he takes his wife's arm to lead her to their bedroom. Only a very pointed clearing of the throat alerts him to the fact that he has taken his wife's arm.

The body of his wife.

"I don't know if that is proper, Felix." Alma muses with the voice of Pepa. His actual wife taps her foot and has her hands on her hips with an unamused scowl, while everyone else howls with laughter.

Felix drops the arm like it's on fire.

"I don't know how to deal with this!" he wails just like little Olive earlier. "I really don't!"

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto headcanons #pepa madrigal #alma madrigal #Poor felix #Dude really doesn't know how to deal with this #It is of course reversible #Don't worry

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ggomomomo · 2 years

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Cin-dye-rella

@felixmonth

Felix Week 2022 Day 2 (Fantasia Version) | Dye

AO3 | Masterlist

The previous stage was finished. He had stolen acquired an invitation for himself.

Next, his outfit.

Félix broke the door off its hinges just from his incessant banging. His eyes stumbled upon the seamstress inside, who was glaring at him whilst carrying a basket of leaves. “You better give me some bloodroot for that,” she said.

“I need a suit for the ball. I heard you can make one with a bit of . . . magic.” He rubbed his fingers in a sprinkling motion.

“Not for free, no.” She yanked him out of the way, picked up the fallen door, and rammed it back into place with her shoulder.

“Name your price. I need a suit that trumps all others.” But the handful of coins in his pockets indicated that he, in fact, did not have enough riches to cover the possible cost. Nevertheless, he was certain he could obtain the clothing through persuasion, and he was more than ready to do so.

The seamstress stopped to narrow her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Do you prefer the truth or a half-truth?”

“Why would you ask—of course I want the truth!”

Félix gave her a blank look. “I am the king’s secret child and I want to march into the palace to claim the title that is rightfully mine.”

She was stunned for a second. “O—kay, that's a blunt way to put it.” She dropped another basket of leaves onto her work table and tossed him a notepad. “If you want a charmed suit, you’ll have to work for it.”

Félix briefly scanned the list. The handwriting was horrendously illegible—he was fortunate to have experience reading notes from alchemists. However, the names written on the paper were hardly recognized by his forager self. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

Marinette huffed, gesturing towards the line of mannequins at one end of the room. There was one dressed in an extravagant ball gown which had skirts spilling to the floor; another was an outfit covered in an unbelievable amount of feathers; and there was a suit adorned with glittering rubies. “As you can see,” she said, “I’m already quite busy. Do you think you’re the only one to request clothing for the ball?”

“Why not take a suit you already made and lace it with charms?”

“That’s not how it works!” She slammed one hand down on the table, pulling on a roll of fabric. “Charmed suits are made from scratch. It is necessary that they are made from scratch.”

“Why? Does the magic not cling onto the fabric?”

Marinette clicked her tongue. She had her back turned to him but he knew her eyes were housing a fiery rage. “Look at you, a rude villager barging into my shop, doubting my magical methods.”

She cut off a piece of fabric and whirled around. “Look.” With her finger, she scribbled a glowing inscription on it. The piece curled on itself, edges blackening as if it had been burnt. “Magic is unpredictable with fabric. And it doesn’t stick well. That’s why instead of the fabric, I infuse the dyes used in its processing. The charm lasts longer while preserving the cloth’s quality.”

“And what of these strange ingredients?”

She rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, the inscriptions don’t stick to any kind of dye. See, the upper half of the list are dye sources, but the bottom half are linkers that help the magic bind to dye. Also, some are mordants. They’re just as important.”

Félix’s gaze raked over the list again. Incana leaves, sumacglabra shrub, cinerea bark, sassafras. Those were fairly easy to get. But the others . . . bucksnort berries, rubra seed, locust algae, summer-may-cone moss . . . “Bucksnort berries? Don’t those only grow in the northern mountains?!”

Marinette snickered. “Pretty rare aren’t they?”

He gave her a blank look. “Perhaps it will be better if you procure these yourself.”

“Perhaps, but I can’t ignore the rest of my clientele.” She reached for a pair of scissors. “If you wait for me to get them, the suit won’t be finished on the day of the ball.”

Doubt stirred in his chest. He had to go to the ball. There was no other chance. He was only a commoner thrown in the streets, but if he were to appear in the ball, he could win over the people regardless of what the king would say.

“I don’t care about your intentions at the ball,” Marinette began. “But is it really necessary for your suit to be charmed?”

“Absolutely,” he replied quickly. “I know it seems unfair, but it’s the only way to convince the aristocrats who are loyal to my father. If I announce myself at the ball without a charmed suit, I’d be seen as a fool.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his communication skills, or saw his charisma lacking. He only needed a surefire way to achieve what he wanted so that he wouldn’t miss his shot.

“Why?” He eyed the seamstress with suspicion. “Is there a consequence wearing a charmed suit?”

“Not really.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I can infuse as many charms as I want and nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Really?”

She scoffed. “I’m not a liar.”

“Then tell me where I can find the ingredients. I’ll get them myself if it means the suit can be finished on time.”

“Okay . . .” Marinette pricked her pincushion with a needle as she held a thread between her teeth. “The bucksnort berries grow naturally in the northern mountains, but there’s a dedicated farm inside the duke’s estate.”

Great. Another theft I have to commit, Félix lamented.

“For the rubra seed, you’ll have to open a lot of rubra fruits—they don’t always have a seed in them. I believe there’s a bunch growing near the docks. Ah, and the seed has to be at least the size of your fist. Make sure you keep it dry and away from the light when you carry it.” As she instructed him, she sewed busily with calloused fingers. “Locust algae is only visible exactly at sundown, right in the middle of Elder Lake. Last I checked, that lake still has caymans living in it, but you’ll manage.”

He grumbled under his breath.

“As for the summer-may-cone moss, uhh, there’s a chinkapin oak in the outskirts. It’s the tallest tree in town, and you’ll find the moss at the very top of it. I think.”

Félix scowled. “You think?”

She raised her hands up defensively. “I don’t remember if it’s still there!”

He sighed. For a mage like her, the tasks would only be slight inconveniences. But for a human like him, they were Herculean. “Fine. I’ll be going now.”

---

Most of the leaves and flowers didn’t take too long to obtain. He bought them from western market, even getting a few extra after he bargained with the sellers. Surprisingly (or not), the bucksnort berries were easy to steal as well. He made a quick jump over the estate fence and plucked a few plump bunches.

But when he traveled to the docks to get rubra fruits, things began to get difficult.

Félix wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. The weather was sweltering, and he hadn’t found a single seed. Split rubra fruits scattered around him—he looked like a madman hammering each one in half.

“Seriously, is there a pattern in this?” He cracked one open, saw a seed, but it was too small for the requirement. The fruit didn’t seem to have a telltale sign on its surface that indicated a seed. He could only assume that the seeds were random.

He stopped to take a swig from his water skin, praying to the gods that his effort would be worth it.

He spotted a withered fruit fallen near the base of the tree. Félix walked towards and opened it, revealing a white seed, taking up half of the rubra’s size. A sigh of relief escaped him while he stored away the seed in a special basket.

He checked the notepad once again. “Rubra seed, done—”

He rubbed his eye frantically. “I need two rubra seeds?!”

---

Elder Lake was far.

He had to get a ride from a merchant, sitting through rough pathways and the putrid smell of dirt. It was nearing sundown when he arrived.

The lake was by no means an impressive sight—barely anyone stopped by. Not even fishermen or hunters. Because of caymans and poisonous fish, the body of water was of little value. Its hue was a dull gray instead of a vibrant blue, and its edges were lined with sticky soil.

Félix rubbed his nose. He had to make sure his plan worked.

The algae patch was right where Marinette described it—in the dead center, with no convenient way to reach it. Félix considered this beforehand. He’d be working with a long distance and a small time window, so he concocted a plan.

When he had been an apprentice of an alchemist, there was an incident when a box of soap had accidentally fallen in a blessed pond. He’d been assigned in the cleanup, but the soap remnants had caused a nasty algal bloom in the water. It had been completely unusable for weeks.

Assuming locust algae is the only type that grows in the lake . . . Félix crouched down and tossed the pieces of soap into the water. The visibility doesn’t matter. It’s only at sundown that the light hits the algae for it to be seen, but it doesn’t mean it disappears.

What he had to do was wait.

Félix camped nearby for an entire night.

When he cracked his eyes open in the late morning, he saw it: a trail of chartreuse algae had grown from the center, leading towards the place where he deposited the soap. He headed down to the water and scooped the ingredient into a jar lined with netted cloth.

Félix had already decided there was no other way to get the moss. He wasn’t gifted in stamina or strength, but he knew he had to brave the humongous tree in the Chinkapin Forest. As he shielded his eyes and craned his neck to look up, he realized that he couldn’t even see the apex of the trunk.

He looked back down at the hook and rope in his hands. Surely climbing it would take a shorter time than cutting it down.

The air of the forest was forcing a shudder out of him. Yes, it's a bad idea to cut it down.

He started off slow, keeping his bag slung over his back. The bark had a few crevices to anchor to, and his boots provided enough friction. The problem in the long run was that most of the branches appeared flimsy—he wouldn’t be able to sit on them when he needed a breather.

With only a few feet above the ground, he felt the strain in his muscles kicking in. “Is this the only place to get that moss?” he mumbled, annoyed.

“Hellooo!”

“Gaaah!”

Félix felt himself falling, but instead of the cruel ground, he was met with air. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was hovering.

Marinette giggled below him.

“Are you here to mock me?” He kicked around.

“Nooo, I’m here to take a break. Teleportation works wonders.” She stretched her arms, taking a seat on top of a boulder. “The wind feels nice here, don’t you think?”

“Now that you’re here, why don’t you get the moss yourself?” He snapped. She still hadn’t let go of him.

The seamstress mock-gasped. “But that will dirty my fingers! Or scratch my skin. How will I be able to work on your suit with splinters all over my hands?”

Félix ran a hand through his hair .He knew that she could heal her hands in a snap.

She smiled brightly. “I also don’t want to get in the way of your progress. You climbed so high up already!”

He looked down on himself. “It’s too late for that.”

Marinette snorted, lowering her hand so that his feet touched the ground again. Félix stared forlornly at his hook and rope, which were left dangling on the tree. Out of reach from him. He dropped on the ground, panting heavily.

“Don’t tell me you’re making me climb again,” he spat out.

“I won’t!” She chirped. He was already halfway through deciding that he preferred her busy, grumpy mood rather than her cheeky one.

Marinette flicked her wrist again, carrying a big batch of moss from the tree and depositing it on his lap. Before he could say anything, she waved goodbye. “See you back in the shop!”

She disappeared without a trace.

---

As soon as he came back with his haul, Marinette handed him a sheet of fabric. “You’re here! Now, get to cutting.”

“I’m tired,” he complained.

“What, you think this is as easy as bibbity-bobbity-boo?” She put her fists on her hips. “Magic isn’t like that. You have to work for it.”

“That’s not how I saw it,” he mumbled, thinking back to the moss.

“If I were the one going to the ball, perhaps it’s that easy,” she said. “But this is different. You don’t have magic. Instead, you’re going to wear a suit with magic. That requires precision and care.”

He huffed.

“And I’m guessing you don’t have the money to actually pay for your suit.” Marinette lifted the hem of a mannequin’s dress positioned in the middle of the cluttered room. “So you have to pay in labor.”

Félix placed the collected ingredients at the foot of the table. “Once I become a prince, I can pay you back handsomely.”

“Ha! What if you don’t become king?”

His eyes shined with resolve. “I will. And I will pay you thrice the suit’s worth.”

She pointed a spool of thread at him threateningly. “For now, I have no guarantee, so get to cutting. I’ve marked the lines with pins. Don’t let the edges fray.”

Despite his exhaustion, he begrudgingly did as she told. There was a nagging voice in his head that she might curse him in his sleep.

“If you do become a prince, I won’t even want riches,” she said haughtily.

“What do you possibly want?” His tone flowed with sarcasm. “My hand in marriage?”

She gave him a look.

Félix reddened instantly. “No!”

“I don’t want that,” she sputtered. “I want a good promotion for my shop and a larger workspace.”

He examined the room. The walls were dusty, but the materials looked well-kept. It did look like the space was getting crowded. Instead of making room on tabletops, Marinette had stacked teacups on top of each other and random bottles had become paperweights for her designs.

“Fine,” he said. “I promise that.”

“Oh no, mister,” she tutted. “That’s not enough. We’ll make a magic contract for you later.”

“And if I don’t succeed in becoming royalty?”

“You shall work in my shop for the rest of your life.”

They worked jointly for two days, with Marinette directing him to do simple tasks while she bounced between his suit and other commissions. When it was time to infuse the dye with magic, she called him over to the stove where several pots bubbled with colored liquid.

She sized him up, from head to toe. “What charms do we need?”

“Influence, appeal,” he enumerated, “Persuasion, an aura of wealth, righteousness, virtue, bravery—”

“That’s an awful lot.”

“You said there’s no limit.” He shushed her. “Etiquette, reflexes, diligence, beauty—”

“Beauty?”

“Yes, beauty. And elegance.”

Marinette walked closer to him, pinching his shirt between two fingers and sniffing. “Let’s add fragrance to that as well.”

“Hey! I don’t smell!”

“You’re a villager. You’re used to it.” She turned back to the pots, tracing the air with her index.

After preparing the dyes, she taught Félix how to add them to the fabric. He worked on it with a close eye under her occasional supervision. Day transitioned into night once more, and the suit was ready for a fitting at last.

The design was immaculate. Both top and bottom were colored in black, with gold designs swirling around the cuffs, hems and collar. The buttons were also covered in a thin sheet of green dye to add a suitable accent. His overcoat was a regal shade of emerald, completing the princely look on him.

“I like it,” Félix complimented, feeling the soft fabric on his skin.

“As you should.” Marinette seemed satisfied. “Now go wreak havoc in that castle.”

#felix week 2022 #felix month #felix week #dye #royalty au #medieval au #magic au #marinette dupain cheng #felix pv #cinderella felix lol #poor felix #like literally #it was fun making up plant names #or getting inspo from the net

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