sollux and dave. theyre both really similar to each other as cool apathetic dudes except its like, daves got the classic cool guy schtick but hes actually a fucking wimp, and sollux has the classic nerdy wimp schtick, but hes actually a chad. so the dynamic would be like this:
Son dibujos que hice hace tiempo, pero quería publicarlos porque si, además de poner la referencia de Applebee.
Applebee es el primo de Manzanita, por lo solía ser un candidato a heredero, en una de los dibujos se ve a su primo GreenApple, el cual también era un candidato, de paso es medio incestuoso y está obsesionado con la lindura de sus primos.
Y también está Plátano u.u el cual prefiere que le digan "Plata", es un brujo al cual normalmente confunden con una mujer, además de que su padre fue exiliado por acusación de traición, por lo tanto su familia es vigilada de vez en cuando. No le tiene rencor a su padre, porque de igual forma él no es una persona buena, por lo tanto se le puede ver intentando cometer malas acciones, aunque es torpe, por eso termina de una forma que él no esperaba.
I remember the first time the huge door of the ferry dropped in front of Mercy and I to the bay of Kamares, the port of Sifnos, five years ago. The chains creaked and the heavy metal hinges groaned while Mercy trembled slightly next to me, and then the broad fresh blue air wept in as the ramp clattered down, and the crowd crushed forward behind us to push us into shore. The person I had rented a room from was waiting to drive Mercy and I to the fishing village of Faros, where we’d return the following spring.
This summer I took the ferry with my friends David and Efthimios, who have had a house at Sifnos since the early 2000’s. When we arrived, they drove me to the house where I would be staying, in the mountain village of Apollonia. The heavy but cleansing fragrance of oregano filled the evening air, and the more than two hundred year old Cycladic house-hardly touched except for basic additions of a kitchen and bathroom – welcomed us with its familiar jasmine and dusty stone smells.
I’d arranged for my friend Elizabeth – another longtime resident of the island – to take me to the grocery the following morning, where we would stock up on local cheese, mizithra, olives, chickpeas, horta, and other essentials.
As Mercy and I settled in to mountain village life, we started to shape our routine. I would do my yoga in the large high-ceilinged saloni and sit for a long time with my tea under the trumpet vine in the small garden.