#c: amaryllis

[sandcastle-art]

listened to Thunder Lightning Strike while drawing this :)

[amouramaryllis]

BoneMeal: navigable 3D environment | 2023 | Made in Unity

Prompt was transitional periods. I apologize for the trees, I couldn't figure out the right rendering pipeline.

Prefab assets are mainly from sketchfab, in program sound from freesound and camera controller script + other models/bitmap textures are made by me or public domain.

Background track is Chopin - Raindrop Prelude (Op. 28 No. 15) sourced from musopen

[foxsoulcourt]

flora update: 10 Feb 2023 (2 weeks in)

[oflostinfound]

[PhoneCall] [Heylinhenchman] Crackly yawning sounds, the distant sound of wind and waves, “ Guess who fell asleep over the ocean? I don’t know what time it is I’ve been traveling slow for the ambiance and I’m not in a familiar time zone. But I hope you get some sleep after cleaning. And that the bot is— helping—“ Another yawn, a loud splash, shriek and slap against something plastic (the blinking dashboard he couldn’t DRAW), “Just a wave! I’m safe! But yeah I just wanted to say goodnight or good morning. Have a good day Eath.” Spicer truly did aim for Nicer, “LoveyaBye” CLICK. WHAT?

Eath wasn't normally one for keeping a lot of technology around the cabin, but with Jack as a friend she had to have some means of reaching the evil genius. So when she realizes she has a message she takes the small device up to her desk in the attic, setting it down and resting her head on her elbows as she listens to the message.

At the yawn, the splash, and the reassurance that he was safe she can't help but giggle. Responding quietly to the recorded "goodnight or goodmorning" with a soft,

|| 🔷 ||: ❝ Goodmorning, Jack. ❞

A light giggle following the words as she goes to stand from her desk-

“LoveyaBye”

And promptly tripping as her foot catches the leg of the chair, falling directly on her face with an extremely loud bleat,

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Eath!? You okay up there? ❞

|| 🔷 ||: ❝ I'M FINE DON'T WORRY I'M FINE- ❞

She's going to need a moment to recover from that one.

@heylinhenchman

[strangcbchavior]

@amaryllvs

ren had always known that hope was the better mercer. it was like she sapped up all the special, all the softness, all the beauty in their mother's womb and left ren with nothing but hollowness. she learned early on not to compete with hope because hope was simply a different breed of human, the kind people flocked to like brainless little moths, seeking a brief break from mediocrity.

but sometimes they flocked like locusts. ren never felt the need to protect hope when she was alive ( hope could hold her own and do it with one-inch acrylic nails ), but now that she was dead...something about amaryllis had alway creeped her out. there was hope's usual flock of admirers, and then there were people like amaryllis. people who asked her too many questions.

ren folded her arms over her chest and moved to stand beside the girl who was studying hope's picture with an intensity that frankly scared her. "how did you know hope again?"

[coffeeflavored-tears]

cquackity poppy amaryllis daffodil canna lily oleander send tweet

[steampoweredstrawberry]

Hi, that's my Tav Amaryllis!

People always talk about the great compatibility Gale has with different kind of magic user tavs, but noone ever mentions the arcane trickster. A subclass that focuses heavily on illusion magic, and yet in a way that's very different to Gale's field of expertise. I just feel like there's so much untapped potential there.

To the Galemancers with rogue/arcane trickster tavs, feel free to reblog this with your tav!

[kohaive]

"Well, we found him." "We didn't say we'd bring him back."

[alienve]

Just noticed that the background of Vere’s drawings contain symbols of the LI, and maybe even some of their endings.

1. The crow feather (mhin cuz duh) but notice that it’s kinda directly on top of the plants, possibly symbolizing Leander b/c of the scene where he gives a makeshift flower to Mc OR could have something to do with the sewers being overridden by plants in the Amaryllis District. (lmao is that how you spell it??)

2. Top center you can see Leander’s knife thingy

3. Mid left is Ais’ bracelet, it’s also being covered by Mhin’s crown feather

4. The tea on top left (duh Vere) but it’s also green, I take this as it being bitter maybe? So maybe one of his meh endings

5. Mc’s key in top left corner (Could be Vere or Leander, maybe even both)

6. Kuras’ glass vials in bottom center

7. Kuras’ jewelry also at the top right ( so far he’s the only one to actually wear gold jewelry/trinkets)

7. Next to the vials is the nail file thingy and maybe what looks like a drawstring bag, have no clue and I’m probably grasping at straws but these could probably relate to background LI (Elyon and Sen)

8. The two rings overlapping each other at the top right corner of the page, possibly symbolizing marriage or some form and devotion

Also wanted to talk about the placement of some of these items starting with the rings

1. The rings are very close to the page, could argue this wouldn’t mean anything because the tea is also close to the page, but this just seems like normal placement (you have a refreshment while doing something a lot) but I think this placement is significant because it’s a continuity in the drawing of the LI Vere has done so far, meaning that the possibility of a romantic and whimsical ending is possible for all the LI

2. If Vere hates Leander so much, tf is his knife doing there? Bro really just out here stealing

3. The items directly placed on the page correlate to Leander, Kuras, and whoever tf that nail file belongs to

4. The lighting is very reminiscent of that one scene in the trailer when we’re introduced to Leander, suggesting he has a lot of significance to many of the LI’s fates, NOT to mention that his knife is the closest and directly in the source of the light

Then, there’s the condition of the paper and Vere’s teacup:

The paper is slightly ripped at the edge and wrinkled all around, as someone that is a serial eraser, this could mean he was either vigorously erasing previous sketches of Mhin, which makes sense because many of the sketches seem transparent, or that he’s low on paper and they’re in poor condition for age, but looking back at the bag, there seems to be a stack of paper in there, so?? I’m going with the serial eraser cuz that’s so real of him

And then there’s his dialogues of the sketches for Mhin and Kuras:

Mhin’s is more playful and teasing, while he doesn’t say anything for Kuras, there is mention that he was heavily bribed to draw him AND that the sketches of him were so crude that they were deserving of a whole other paper. I think this could translate to rightfully seeing Kuras as more of a threat than Mhin, and not wanting to piss him off ( as he already wants the mf dead) or that he truly does put his all in the drawings because of how much he enjoys handmade gifts and considers this such

That’s it fr (possibly lying)

*showing pictures sorry it’s out of order*

[artsycrapfromsai]

More Amaryllis doodles with Amy and her friends and boyfriends!

Shoya is like Amy's brother and cares about her v much 💕 chaotic rogue gremlin

Yulani is the redhead, one of Amaryllis' boyfriends, along with Eclipse, the Blightmaid in the last art. Yulani is anxiety and Eclipse is very horny

(Everyone kinda hates Percy in the campaign lmao tho that's slowly changing, but he is a huge asshole)

Shoya (c) @voidgremlinguege

[maracujatangerine]

The Gift Exchange

CW: institutionalised slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation

“Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia, what do you think about this?.”

Coriander jogged into the kitchen, brandishing a roll of wrapping paper patterned with abstract swirls in silver and dark green. The silver accents glittered in the pale winter morning sunlight falling in through the windows.

“It is really pretty!” Miss Lydia smiled, brown eyes warm. “Good choice, Cory!”

The blonde pet ducked his head, but smiled back from underneath his bangs. He wore a soft, green sweater with leather patches on the elbows that matched his chestnut trousers.

Lydia was dressed in a dark grey, knitted dress with red leggings. She leaned over the table to move the pot with the red and white amaryllis out of the way.

“Should we wrap everything into one present, or should we wrap each gift separately, do you think?”

“T-this pet thinks we should w-wrap one gift for Colton and one for Linden, b-but that all their gifts can be wrapped together.”

“That’s a good idea, let’s do that.”

Coriander spread out several seed packages on the table and studied them thoughtfully. Closest to Lydia was a packet with a picture of lush, green sugar snap peas labelled: ‘Mangetout, pea seeds 'Norli' ORGANIC’. Then, there were two packets both marked ‘Thunbergia alata, Black-eyed Susan’, the first one called ‘African Sunset’ in shades of red and apricot, the second one ‘Alba Oculata’ in brilliant white. The final was a handwritten envelope simply marked in Cory’s neat handwriting: ‘Chili, mix’.

“Are you happy with those seeds?”

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia. C-Colton will be able to grow them on the balcony, and i-it will be fun that we both can try to grow the same seeds. P-perhaps we can compare notes.”

Cory gathered the seed packets and tied them together with a neat red bow. Meanwhile, Lydia grabbed a hardback book. The blue dust jacket had brightly coloured leaves scattered all over the cover. The title stood out in bright white: When we were birds, by Ayanna Lloyd Banwo.

Opening the book, she wrote on the inside of the cover. ‘To Linden. Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.’ Signing it, she handed it over to Coriander to add his name too.

“‘It is a bit of a risky gift,” she admitted to Cory, “since I haven’t read the book yet, but it seems so good. I got a copy for myself too, and I hope I will get the chance to read it over the holidays.”

They added two bags of homemade butterscotch candy in green paper cups, and two reused milk cartoons filled with gingerbread cookies, the result of last night’s baking spree.

Lydia and Cory put their joint efforts into wrapping the gifts into two neat packages. The dark, red ribbon a nice contrast to the green and silver wrapping paper.

“Let’s go for a walk and send it off this afternoon.” Coriander nodded.

“Y-yes, Miss Lydia.”

*

Linden wiggled the pen between his thumb and index finger, deep in thought. Leaning back in his kitchen chair, he looked over at Colton, who was working diligently at the end of the table. With wholly unbroken concentration, he was pulling strips of sellotape from the dispenser and sticking them in a neat row along the table’s wooden edge. When Linden had done the altogether far more fiddly task of wrapping a gift up, Col could pluck a pre-cut piece of tape and stick it in place. It was, as Linden had said about fifty times, excellent teamwork.

“Hey, Col, have you ever seen this before?” Linden asked, lifting his hand for Col to see. With the pen held right in its middle, Linden wiggled it gently, until it looked as if the pen was bending at the edges.

Col’s eyebrows twitched, and for a beautiful second Linden thought he was going to burst out laughing. Instead, his mouth curved upwards into a tiny smile. “Yes, Sir. I have.”

“Ah, not too impressive then. Haha, no matter.”

“Do you need any tape for the envelope, Sir?” Col asked, eyeing the Christmas card laid out in front of Linden.

“In a second… I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Ah, okay, Sir.”

Col took another breath, as if to speak, then stopped himself. Linden prided himself on reading Col well enough by now to know that it was because he wanted to ask a question. Probably what are you trying to figure out?

“I’ve written my part of Lydia and Cory’s card, but I’m not sure how to do yours. I’m not going to make you try and hold a pen. I was thinking - do you want to just dictate it? It doesn’t have to be much, just a little festive greeting sort of thing. I can be your text-to-speech robot.”

Linden was always cheery around Christmas time. Something about winter setting in, dark and long and rainy, and then being cut through by glittering lights, gifts and music. Today, he felt like he was on a veritable warpath to make Col smile.

“That sounds good, Sir… I can do that.”

“Great!” Linden said, overjoyed that Colton hadn’t taken issue with the idea of ‘dictating’ something to his owner, hadn’t overthought any possible rule-breaking that could come with speaking and forcing his Master to write it all down. “And instead of you signing the card the normal way, I thought you could do a fingerprint?”

“That’s a good idea, Sir, thank you for c-”

“Wait, no!” Linden said, making Col flinch. “Sorry, I’m sorry love. I just realised. We’ll both do our fingerprints. That’ll be nice. Then we’re the same.”

There it was again, the coveted half-smile. Col’s cheeks glowed. “Thank you, Sir, that’s really kind. I think- I, uh…”

“Go on,” Linden said warmly. “I want to hear what you think.”

“I think Lydia and Cory will like that, Sir.”

“I agree. Now, here’s what I’ve written.”

Linden pushed the card over. He’d written a short message making light of the strange way they first crossed paths, saying how glad he now was to know the both of them, wishing them a peaceful and happy holiday. He waited patiently as Colton gave his message some thought, then wrote it down exactly as dictated on the left hand side of the card.

Linden found some stamp ink in the back of a drawer, and the two of them rolled their index fingers in it until they could leave two bold prints, one below each message.

Once the card was sealed, it was time for the gifts. Lydia’s gift was a specially-made book embosser, which had EX LIBRIS - LYDIA WINTERTHORPE printed onto it. The embosser itself was a satisfying, weighty thing, and Linden hoped she’d get great pleasure out of stamping all of her most beloved books.

Cory’s gift was also a bespoke item: a brass door sign with his name, Coriander, printed on it. It had ornate rounded corners which gave the thing a rustic, rather stately look, and although Linden had never seen Lydia’s house he guessed it would fit right in. He had run the gift idea past Col first - would a pet such as Cory be okay with claiming the bedroom as his in this way? Col had given it a fair share of thought, ultimately telling Linden, in a way that sounded more like a sinful confession, that Cory would like it very much.

The two men performed their well-honed wrapping ritual, with Col sticking down the final piece of tape with a flourish.

*

This is a collaboration between @whumpzone and @maracujatangerine.

We would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[leanderfields]

SYNOPSIS: No song lasts forever. Not even a sparrow’s.

C/W: Ais x gn!reader, reader is MC with the curse and all, angst/tragedy- it’s fluffy until it’s not, a few innuendos if you squint, Leander makes an appearance, so does Princess and Vere, spoilers for the red choice in Ais’s demo route, mentions of blood, mild depictions of violence (more like the aftermath; I personally think it’s minor but just in case), written before the full game has been released so some creative liberties were taken when writing about Hightown and the Amaryllis District, more or less my rendition of an early bad ending for Ais, largely inspired by Enna Alouette's Wish of this Songbird

A/N: When you blog is Leander themed, but your first official post is about Ais and it's angst... haha whoops ─=≡Σᕕ(σ‿‿σ)ᕗ

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip. 

Ais took yet another drag on his cigarette, exhaling with an indolent puff of smoke. This one looks like Princess, he thought. The Soulless let out a reverberating purr on his lap.  

“You think so too, huh?” he grinned, scratching the top of her head. The other hand crushed the butt of the cigarette beneath his heel. That was enough of playing with smoke for now. Any more then he would have to make a trip to Lowtown before the sun sets. Bars weren’t fun during the day, but the streets were livelier according to a certain mage. The idea of running into familiar faces while taking a leisurely stroll didn’t seem that bad either. 

Ais drove the cigarette butt deeper into his heel. Well, it’s not like he could leave right now. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Pant. Pant.

Princess sprung off his lap, wooden panels creaking as she bounced towards the Seaspring’s entrance. Her tail swayed back and forth and her tendrils followed in suit. Ais reached for an extra floor pillow. Must be someone she liked. 

“Ais! Are you home?” a cheery voice chirped between Princess’s purrs. 

The demon smirked, hoisting himself up the rafters. He shifted into a comfortable position and propped his head onto the back of his hand. The beams rasped under his weight. His crimson eyes flickered to his Soulless pet who was quick to follow his trail, leading a cloaked figure to a tea set in between two hastily arranged floor pillows. 

“Ais! I know you’re home!” 

Princess gave him an eager stare. He put a finger to his lips and tossed the Soulless a treat from up above, one she happily scarfed down.

“Ai–”

“You should try looking up more, sparrow.”

“Well, hosts usually don’t greet guests from up above,” you said, pulling your hood down to meet his gaze, revealing bright eyes full of wonder and hope. Eyes that bored into his blood-red, piercing orbs. Ais saw them one too many times before they were engulfed by the same crimson that colored these eerily still waters. 

“Who said you’re my guest?”

“If I recall, your exact words were ‘you know where to find me.’” You crossed your arms. 

Ais sighed and jumped off the rickety rafter. The wood creaked beneath his feet and the waters rippled across the spring as he towered over you. His lips were on the verge of smiling. 

“Still not my guest though.”

“Even if I made a decision?”

“Even if you made a decision,” he flashed his fangs at you with a grin. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on one of the floor pillows. Princess trotted over to your side. Her tail continued to wag while you hummed a sweet song, pouring tea into two cups. Someone’s in a good mood. You were fairly relaxed despite dubbing the Seaspring as “the creepiest place in the world”. 

“So what’s your verdict?” he asked. 

“The tea is oversteeped,” you quipped, handing him a cup.

“That’s no way to treat a host,” Ais said, taking a generous sip of the moderately oversteeped tea.

“I thought I wasn’t a guest?”

Ais glanced at his cup, the floor pillows and the Soulless who seemed to enjoy your company more than his. He crouched down, meeting you at eye level. You flinched the moment his fingers made contact with your forehead. “You also thought I was a host.”

“Resorting to violence, already?” you giggled, rubbing your forehead. It differed from the crude laugh you let out when he told you about Ocudeus. This laugh was an endearing sing-songed melody that filled the empty spring with the same wonder and hope in your eyes. Ais’s own eyes lingered on the distinctly pink area of your skin. 

“Answer the question, sparrow.”

Your laughter halted. The mirth fell from your face as quickly as it came. You coughed and cleared your throat, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

“Said a lot of things last night,” Ais said dryly. He made three bad impressions during your first encounter. Many things had gone awry last night at the Wet Wick. Would that be the fourth or fifth bad impression he’s made since meeting you? It was an average bar brawl for him, but not for a newcomer as soft as you were. He flexed his bandaged hand. Well, maybe you weren’t that soft. 

“The thing you said about my curse… ‘Is the thought of living with it so unbearable?’”

“What about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about the things you said after that,” you paused to glance at him, but your eyes were quick to retreat back to your twiddled thumbs, “I’ve survived this far with it… but I don’t want others to suffer because of my curse.”

Ais’s lips morph into a visible frown, “So you want to take a drink.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Implied it.”

“I… want to find alternatives. Vere agreed to introduce me to some people from the Senobium.”

His frown deepened. You were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for all the wrong reasons. Though he can’t say that he isn’t fond of your chirpier side. The people of Eridia were typically solemn, apprehensive or the occasional thorn in the flesh.  

“The Senobium’s bad news,” he muttered. Ais’s crimson orbs glowered at the mention of the academy. You shrunk at the face of his deadly glare. “Seriously, sparrow.”

“It’s a little better than losing a bit of this,” you tapped the side of your temple, a gibe at the same gesture he used to explain the price of drinking from the spring.

“You’d be losing far more.”

“At least I won’t lose my shitty attitude.”. 

You were always the one to roll your eyes— always annoyed, and short-tempered, but it was Ais’s turn to roll his eyes now. “You want to keep that of all things?”

“Yes, some people happen to like it,” you beamed, jabbing a finger at his side. Your touch was as light as a feather.  

“I’m the only person who said that.”

“Verbally, yes, but I think others might like me too.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“Leander.”

A deep chuckle escaped Ais’s lips. He threw his head back with a rumble, his horns scraping against one of the wooden beams. The spring water swelled beneath him and his tea had run cold. Princess snorted as well. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“He’s friendly with everyone. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“It’s not getting to my head.” 

Ais hummed nonchalantly, pouring himself a bit more tea. The contents of the teapot had also run cold, but the demon continued to drain every last drop of the murky liquid into his cup. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He raised his cup, “Sorry. Did you want some?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I should be going now.”

“So soon?”

Words ran out of his mouth before he could catch them, but you put your hand up, a futile attempt to stop them dead in their tracks. “I just wanted to let you know about my decision. I’d rather not keep you.”

And yet they kept running. 

“Not like I got many things to do here,” Ais shrugged. 

“I’ve got many things to do in Lowtown.” 

Ais grunted and pushed himself off the ground. He smoothed his hands over his trousers, brushing off invisible crumbs. Then, he offered you a hand. 

“We’ll walk you back.” 

You checked your bandages before taking his hand. He squeezed your hand before pulling you up to your feet. You return the gesture, squeezing his own bandaged hand. The demon firmly squeezed your hand once again, as if he wanted the last laugh. Ais then turned his attention to Princess and whistled. At the signal, the Soulless rose to all fours. Her tendrils unfurled and coiled around his forearm as she trotted over to his side.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he cooed.

While Princess purred and her tail wagged rapidly, bewilderment washed over your face. You never heard Ais engage in baby talk. Few people have, but their expressions were always the same. A big, bad monster coddling another big, bad monster? How strange. How absurd!

“Oh, yes you do! Yes, you do!” 

You burst into a fit of laughter again. Princess cocked her head, looking up at her owner for an answer. Ais shook his head and scratched her chin. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped between your giggles, “It’s just– ha– so silly!”

“Take your time, sparrow.”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m done now.” you said, wiping a single tear from the corner of your eye. Ais smirked. Sparrow sure was a fitting name for you– who always twittered in short, abrupt bursts. 

“After you.”

He pulled you towards him with a languid tug of his arm. His large hands stiffly held yours as he guided you towards the Seaspring’s entrance. The warmth of his hands seeped through your bandages. Princess trailed behind you, prancing along the wooden panels. You stared into the crimson water, the rafters, the talismans on the wooden frames– things that haven’t changed since your last visit to the spring or perhaps for a long, long time. The water formed small waves unnaturally and other Soulless creatures held your stare with a watchful, famished gazes. Shuddering, you turned your attention back to Ais.

Sunlight traced the edges of the entrance and as you neared the opening, the soft yellow rays kissed Ais’s sharp features, highlighting his jaw, nose and horns. He squinted in the harsh lighting, bringing his other hand to shield his eyes. You drew the hood of your cloak up. Princess dashed past your reluctant figures and leaped straight into the sun’s embrace. She let out a bark that sounded like a meow and, much to Ais’s dismay, stomped her legs in the bog’s muddy waters, urging the both of you to continue walking. 

“You heard the boss,” he pointed. 

You nodded and followed Princess. She was several meters ahead. Still in sight, but far enough to not eavesdrop. Not that Soulless creatures could listen in on conversations. Even if they could, there would be nothing to note. No words were exchanged between you and Ais. Your hands were still intertwined. Ais stole glances at you while you were engrossed in the horizon where Eridia stood proud and tall. At this angle, it looked like the sun was balancing on top of the city’s highest point– the Senobium’s spire. His eyes narrowed. He could hardly understand why anyone wanted to go to such a gloomy place. 

“Will you be at the Wet Wick tonight?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ais clicked his tongue and averted his eyes to the side, “Depends.”

“Depends?”

“Might be there. Might not.”

“I see,” you smiled. Your eyes fixed themselves on the horizon and you both trudged across the mucky terrain in a stalemate of sounds. If the Soulless couldn’t find anything to note, perhaps crickets would. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Ais pressed his lips together as the bartender poured his umpteenth glass of whiskey. He sighed. Ais had only known you for two days, but there was something about your response earlier that lacked the usual bite and spite you had. The hell did you mean by “I see”? Were you finally at ease with his presence? Were you simply relieved that he wasn’t going to be there tonight? Another bad impression? He shook his head. It didn’t matter what you thought of him. At the very least, you weren’t pissing yourself at the sight of him. 

“Something on your mind?” Leander’s peart voice chimed in. He patted Ais on the back with a firm smack before he slung an arm around his broad shoulders. The demon glanced at him, raising a brow. He had one of those chewy shots in his hands again. Ais licked his fangs. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Leander put his hands up defensively, “I’m not trying to pry! You just… seem a bit glum over here… in the corner.” His voice trailed off at the latter half. 

“No one to pick a fight with.”

“Well, there’s always some friendly arm wrestling matches here. Or maybe some tabletop card games?” 

“You just don’t want to pay for everyone’s drinks again.”

“I could pay for your next one,” he offered. 

Leander caught the glass in his hand when the bartender slid it over. He nodded at her and she seemed to have gotten the memo. Shouts erupted from the Bloodhounds by the door. Someone had scored in whatever game they were playing. The mage’s emerald eyes darted to his companions then back to Ais. 

“Duty calls.”

After another pat on Ais’s back, Leander was gone as quickly as he came. He jumped onto a table in the center, chanted something, raising his chewy shot glass and the crowd joined him. Claps, stomps, and hollers. Looks like he’s paying for everyone’s drinks again after all. Ais raised his glass a beat later than the Bloodhounds. He didn’t clap, stomp or holler, but the occasion was something worth celebrating. Free whiskey was better than cheap booze. 

Ice clinked as he set his glass down and wood creaked. Weird. He was familiar with the sound of wood crepitating, but that sound was reserved for the rafters in the Seaspring. The Wet Wick was home to the sound of wood breaking. If wood were to creak here, the only source would be that dilapidated door. Not from the roof. 

Ais leaned back against the bar counter and turned his head upward, to the sound of creaking wood. And there you were– standing on the stair landing, leaning against the railing. He tipped his head further back. You craned your neck, bringing your face closer to his, albeit at an awkward perpendicular angle. You smiled like you had struck gold. Your hair tickled his cheeks. He never paid any mind to the Wet Wick’s second floor, but he made a note to remember it now. The stairwell was also dilapidated. 

“Evening, sparrow.”

“I take it you were in the mood to come?” 

“Drinks were on Leander.”

“I see.”

There it was again. That damned “I see”. What the hell did you see? His eyes flickered over to your figure which was no longer cloaked. Your hair was disheveled, hands still covered like a maiden, and a yawn gracing your features as you approached the bar stool beside him. He saw something, alright. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Like a corpse.”

“That tired, huh?”

“I had a lot of errands to run today.”

You lunged forward and reached for a beer stein, a pitcher of water and a bottle of fruit wine behind the counter and poured yourself a helping amount of each into the mug. The barmaid paid no mind to you or your bizarre concoction. She continued polishing glasses as if you were a trick of the light. She must’ve seen combinations far more peculiar than diluted wine in a mug. 

Ais swirled his whiskey, “Got a side hustle, already?”

“I guess you could say that. I’ve been taking some odd jobs. Information is worth its weight in gold here and I need information more than anything. Of course… you’d already know that,” you said, placing your hand onto your cheek. 

“Hard not to know when you keep pestering me for some.” 

“Not anymore! You can keep your spring secrets.”

“There were no secrets. Told you everything you needed to know.”

“Yeah, in the vaguest way possible,” you deadpanned.

“Did you not learn anything at all here?”

“Excuse me?”

There was the bite and spite you had. He was starting to miss it. He worried you’d pick up some of the insipid Hightown mannerisms, but it was for naught. You were still the spitfire. Ais smirked, “You just said information was worth its weight in gold. I know none of your secrets yet you keep asking for mine.”

You frowned at a loss for words. He was right. Though, you didn’t have anything to share that was worth even a sliver of copper. Nothing interesting. Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing that would turn a few heads. Save for your curse, but Ais figured that your curse laid in your molten hands from just a glimpse so that was off the table.

“What would you like to know?” you asked, silently resigned. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then why did you make a big fuss about secrets?” 

Ais’s smile reached his ears. Your voice was nearing a shout. A rosy tint crept up your cheeks. The bar was dull in terms of entertainment on the weekdays– no roughnecks or angry sleazers–  but seeing you worked up was a sight for sore eyes.  

“You called the kettle black. Kettle’s gotta retaliate.” 

“What if I want to know more about the kettle?”

“Thought you were done with the spring.”

“I am, but I want to know more about you.”

Your smile matched his, reaching ear to ear or higher if Ais’s eyes didn’t deceive him. The demon hummed, fiddling with his silver pendant that dangled by his sternum. He was feigning deliberation, but you leaned in on his sea-glass colored bicep, humming along. A sweet harmony to contrast his timbre, ushering him to a conclusion.

“Shoot,” Ais grinned. 

“Why don’t you live in the city?” You pushed yourself off his arm. Your curious eyes leveled with his. 

“Don’t think people here like my pets much.”

The Bloodhounds seemingly roared in affirmation. Another point scored in their vapid game. Timing was great. Ais swirled his whiskey again. Its amber color mellowed out to a muted brownish-yellow. The ice had melted.

“You live out there for your pets? Isn’t it lonely?”

“My pets are good company and… I go out at night.”

“If you feel like it.”

“Especially if I feel like it.”

“So it’s not that lonely out there?”

“Being alone and being lonely are two different things, sparrow.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Is that what you think?.”

“So yes?” you tried again.

He shook his head. You opened your mouth and formed a slight “O” shape before closing it. Ais propped his head onto his knuckles and continued, “Can’t be alone or lonely with my pets and my friend.” He tapped his temple. You rolled your eyes. 

“Your friend talks?”

“‘Course they do.”

He let your snickers slip past his sharp ears. You still thought he had a screw loose up there despite him being dead serious. You, on the other hand, were dying from disbelief and laughter, but it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. If he showed you, you’d be as aimless as the Soulless or worse– pronounced as dead. Fortunately for you, he reserved Ocudeus for special once-in-a blue-moon occasions and tonight was a new moon… so he’ll play along with you. Yeah, he’s got an imaginary friend. They hit up the bar every other night and have a grand old time. The sea-glass ink that snaked around his arm was a matching tattoo with a drinking buddy whose name had long been forgotten. 

“What about you? Curse aside, why are you in Eridia?” Ais asked once your hysterics simmered down.

“I’m only here because of my curse,” you replied coolly. 

“Going home after you’re cured?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Ais’s eyes never left you– like a vulture waiting on your last breath. Looks like he hit the nail on the head. Not that it was hard to miss. You were easy to read. If his heart was on his sleeve, yours was on a platter. 

“I guess not.” 

“No family?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’re a runaway,” he reckoned. 

Your eyes fell to the table and then to Ais’s metal-clad fingers which were drumming on the wooden surface.

“Got it wrong?” 

“No, I mean, you were spot on. Intuition’s good.”

“Thanks. Got it from my friend.”

“Pft– does your friend know anything else about me?”

“You’re good company,” Ais said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Bites and barks the same amount. Terrible taste in drinks, but you hold a decent conversation so… that makes up for it.”

“I’ll have you know that my tas– hic!”

Your hands were quick to clamp over your mouth. Muffled “hics” periodically bypassed your bandaged fingers despite your vain efforts. Beside you, Ais was doing his darndest to maintain a neutral expression. His lips were pressed together tightly as if all of his teeth would fall out if he were to open his mouth. 

Hic. Hic. Hic.

Ais had failed. A snort filled your ears. You shot him the deadliest glare you could muster, but it had no effect on him. His smirk was as smug as always. He locked eyes with you, taking your cup and filling it with water from a nearby pitcher. Maybe with a little too much water. The contents sloshed around the rim and splashed onto the table once he set it down. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He gestured at the mug, “Need to be fed too?”

Your lips curved upward beneath your hands, shaking your head “no”. Ais motioned at the cup once again. This time, you obliged. You lowered your bandaged fingers and wrapped them around the mug. Excess water leaked into the gauze as you gulped down half the pint in hopes of quelling your antsy diaphragm. 

“You a lightweight?”

“Didn’t drink much back home.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The hiccups seemed to have subsided. You exhaled in relief and hoped that your embarrassment hadn’t traveled too far up your cheeks. 

“No one to drink with?”

“More like… I didn’t go out much.”

“Good thing you’re free as a bird now.”

You smiled, “Yeah, I can go anywhere I want.”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Ais pinched the bridge of his nose as the gutter above his head pelted him with cold droplets of water. Stormy clouds invited themselves to Eridia over the course of the night, but they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to rain or not. They sprinkled a bit of rain here and some there, but showers never lasted more than five minutes. Even a man past his prime could last longer than these “storms”. The demon sidestepped the gutter and set his foot straight into a puddle. He scowled. 

A little water didn’t hurt Ais. In fact, he liked the rain… just not when he was cradling a flimsy paper bag filled with gourmet dog biscuits. He would rather have shrimp cocktails for breakfast, lunch, and dinner than to make another trip to Hightown and talk to that snobby baker again. 

…Maybe that was a stretch. His Soulless pets deserved the best and Ais would rather bite his own tongue than let seafood get anywhere near his mouth. One shrimp cocktail was enough for a lifetime. Dealings with an elitist dragged on for only a few minutes. Seconds if Ais skipped their hoity-toity pleasantries and opted to use his fists instead– a thought he entertained from time to time after one too many “please” and “thank you's”. It was more or less an intrusive thought, a controlled impulse. Ais was more than happy to wipe the disdain off that baker’s face with a solid punch, but then Princess wouldn’t have any fancy treats for when she was on her best behavior. He clicked his tongue. For her, he would be on his best behavior too.

The sun peaked out from the ashen clouds, shining a bit of light onto Ais’s path as if the sky was seeking penance for ruining his early morning shopping trip. He turned his head. He stared too long again. Even if shrouded by clouds, the sun was always there. Nothing special. His hurried steps padded the cobblestone road with a steady rhythm. His back faced the pearly bridge that connected Hightown to Lowtown. Ais adjusted the bag in his arms as he made his way through the maze of flood-eroded buildings.  

Highborn nobles would be appalled at the sight of Lowtown, but this was Ais’s turf. No pleasantries. People here were blunt enough to let the money talk. Business was business. No “please” or “thank you’s”. You only needed to pay. If you didn’t want to pay, you exchanged information or goods. A brawl also doubled as a negotiation. A shame folks here were scared shitless of the Soulless. 

Hu. Tu. Du, du, du, du. 

Ais stopped. His crimson eyes casted their gaze to an alleyway that bisected the deserted Lowtown street that led to the spring and the lively Amaryllis District. He spun his heel and looked up at the gilded buildings of Hightown then back to the alleyway. A detour wouldn’t hurt. The Amaryllis District was closer to the bog than that bakery was. Besides, he hadn’t been there in a while. A change of pace was much needed.The walk home would be less lonely too. The district never slept. 

La, du, du, du, du. 

This tune… 

The Seaspring was home to a few, repetitive sounds: The blood-red waters dripping and rippling from seepage, the purrs and growls of the Soulless and hushed whispers. When one ventured out to the Wet Wick, they, too, heard a few, repetitive sounds: alcohol being poured and measuredly sipped, the shouts and hollers of those who had one too many drinks, and faint murmurs. 

There was not much of a difference in terms of sound between the spring and the city (save for Hightown’s polite contempt for commotion and the entertainment district’s hustle and bustle) but Ais knew a sparrow’s song when he heard one. He was sure of it– not that he was a musical prodigy or any sort. The song was unfamiliar, but he knew the sound of your voice. He never took you for a singer, but he also didn’t take you for a lightweight. He bet you never took him for the type to spoil his pets rotten either. 

He smirked as he squeezed himself through the narrow passage. 

A  flurry of colors greeted him at the end of the tunnel like a gust of wind. Cerulean and coral lanterns strung themselves from building to building. Booths lined the street with an array of pastel tents. The avenue was nothing short of paintings, artisan goods, hand-crafted trinkets and gadgets. Street food vendors were also up and running, undeterred by the untimely hour. The elephant in the room was a large shell-pink tent sat in the middle of the plaza. People flocked and filed themselves around a ticket booth. The sign by the entrance read something along the lines of “troupe”. The fuss rushed past Ais, failing to rope him in. 

His main attraction was a lone stall several paces to his right. The stand was further from its competitors, but it was as busy as any other booth in the district. Tables and benches lined its perimeter. Most of them were occupied. Some had wax candles and pressed flowers while others had glass and frayed paint brushes. Ais scanned the area and smiled, eyes landing on a bench in the corner. It was you, alright. The tune you were humming increased in volume as he tip-toed towards your table. Your back was facing him, immersed in your art project. Your hood was drawn up as well, but he caught sight of your bandages. You were trying to be discreet, but you stood out like a sore thumb to him. The Amaryllis District was vivacious and colorful. Even the air smelled colorful. You, on the other hand, were as ominous as a disciple of death– black cloak, half of your features shrouded by a cowl, and hands wrapped in gauze. And you had the gall to call the Seaspring creepy? The superstitious folks would’ve believed you if you came knocking on their door one day and told them their time was up. 

But as luck would have it, Ais never bought into that sort of bullshit. And you were scary as a rabbit. Mischief spread across his face. 

He pulled your hood down, earning a squeaky yelp from you. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth, but nevertheless, a couple of heads turned– including yours. 

“Easy. It’s just me.”

You nodded and pulled your hood back up with a huff. He removed his hand from your mouth, barely dodging the daggers you glared at him. He grinned. 

“Top o’ the morning to you too, sparrow.”

You cocked your head. Ais put a hand behind his neck and cleared his throat. His gaze averted yours. 

“Learned something last week. Means good morning.”

“Couldn’t you just say ‘good morning’?” you muttered. 

“Gets boring.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to the glass bottle in your hand. It was short and stout, snuggly fit into your palm. He peered over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of a trio of birds flying over an ocean that was a work in progress. He frowned, realizing your little work song had ceased. He set his dog biscuits by your paint palette. You raised an eyebrow at the paper bag. 

“For Princess,” he explained.

“Has she been well?”

“The good-est girl.”

“And you?”

“The good-est boy.”

“The best,” you joked.

Ais rested his head on the base of his palm and watched you add strokes of blue to your ocean. It was a shade darker than the other blues. It reminded him of Mhin’s cape. He grimaced. It reminded him of one of those rare nights in Eridia where the skies were clear enough to see the stars. His eyes trailed up to the stormy clouds. He won’t be seeing any stars anytime soon. When Ais turned his attention back to you, you had moved onto a lighter blue. 

“You an artist?” 

“Dabbled in it.”

“How ‘bout a singer?”

“I don’t sing.”

“Could’ve sworn you just were.”

“You misheard,” you said with finality.

“Did not.” He paused, then added, “Got sharp ears.” Ais pointed to his ears. They were indeed sharp– as most of his features were. Perhaps the only thing that wasn’t sharp about him was the ink on his arms. 

He was met with silence and took it as an invitation to continue prodding at you. 

“Okay then do you hum?”

Your lips were taut. Your brows knitted together in contemplation. Then, they relaxed. Ais smiled as you reluctantly nodded. The movement was incredibly subtle. If he blinked, he would’ve missed his prize..  

“It sounded nice.” 

“You think?” Your back straightened. 

“Yeah, could’ve taken you for a performer here.” 

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Honest, sparrow.”

“I thought about it before… back home… being a performer– even an artist,” you gestured at your glass with your paintbrush, "But I had… another role to play.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear and swapped the blue paint out for an off-white color, sketching sea foam onto your ocean waves. A secret was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Not anymore though, right?”

You nodded. Free as a bird, you thought. You angled the glass to finish up some details. You were by no means talented. It was nothing worth auctioning or featuring in a gallery, but it was something you enjoyed, something you hoped to improve at. You found yourself coming to this booth more often than you’d like to admit. The owner knew your face and you had a collection of painted glass bottles tucked away in your room at the Wet Wick. 

“Do you come here often?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Only to see a friend.”

You turned your head to the building with pink curtains. His eyes narrowed. 

“Not like that, sparrow.” 

“You were misleading,” you shrugged.

“This district’s alright. Too perfumy though,” Ais elaborated. A philanderer was not going on his mental tally of bad impressions on you. He’d like to keep the numbers at a humble three or four. He had causal relationships in the past, but not to that extent. It’s been a while too so it didn't count. That title was more suitable for other people. He could name a few off the top of his head, but he’ll do you a solid favor and keep those names to himself. 

“You don’t come here often because of the smell–”

“Too strong on the nose.” He tapped his nose for good measure.

“When you live by a swamp?” You finished.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The water smells… strange there. It’s not like the river here.”

He knew what you meant. He knew the smell. He was certain you did too. You knew that smell all too well, considering you were welcomed by it on your first day in this city. It followed you as much as it followed him. Neither of you said a thing. Not a word or a whisper. A topic like that matched the somber skies, but clashed with the vitality of the arts and entertainment district. 

“Smells fine to me.”

“That’s because you live by it!”

Ais smirked. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip.  

Those pesky gray clouds have finally decided to cry their eyes out after two days of dilly dallying in the sky, submerging Lowtown with their tears. The ramshackle districts of Eridia were no stranger to floods. It was something the people had grown used to, looked forward to even. Floods may destroy a few buildings or dent a couple of roofs, but they also wash away the pungent smell of blood and death. The downpour was so strong that the Soulless avoided the city. The people were free to wander about at night, albeit with a few limitations. There was not a single booth set up in the Amaryllis District. It was the only time the plaza got a wink of sleep. Well, most of the district. A handful of lights were still on and all pink curtains were drawn, a sign they could go all night long if they wanted to– rain or shine. That wasn’t the case for most stores in Lowtown. Most closed when the downpour began, but bars were open and that was all that mattered to Ais. 

It was when Eridia rained that he simultaneously felt the most alone and the most at home. The flooded streets were akin to the Seaspring’s waters, but there was not a single soul in sight. He waded through the murky waters with unease. The rain turned the city into his domain. He was fond of it for many reasons, but it did not do what many Eridians loved about it the most: wash away unbearable stenches. Petrichor masked the smell of death, but it was prevalent nonetheless. Something lurked in these waters, waiting to be reaped. Or perhaps Ais’s intuition was off? His senses had been haywire for the past few days. He found himself looking over his shoulder to see if someone was behind him. Heat rushed to his usually cold cheeks. His heart raced even though he barely moved an inch. The rain started not too long ago so was it a long shot to say that not everything was washed out yet?

Splash!

Ais whipped his neck around, observing the Wet Wick’s alleyway. Blood spewed from the narrow pathway and coiled around his boots. It swirled and dissolved into the flood water congregating by the Wet Wick’s entrance. He cracked his knuckles and made his way to the alleyway. Even the rain couldn’t stop a good bar brawl. The victor of that fight was a worthy adversary if they could draw blood. Even if they weren’t, he was getting restless anyhow. Throwing a punch or two and knocking someone would be an easy fix for that. Talk about exciting. 

Thud! 

His grin faded as he stepped into the alleyway. His eyes dilated at the sight of Vere pining a cloaked figure to the wall with his bare hands. Blood spilled on the wall, dripping down into the flood water. Ais knew that cloak a little too well. It was black and embroidered with little bits of gold at the hem. He saw it a few times. At the Seaspring. At the Wet Wick. At the Amaryllis District. 

He could count the number of times he saw that cloak on his hands, but the amount of times it plagued his thoughts every now and then exceeded the number stars in the sky– When will you visit Princess again? What kind of weird drink will you have next time? Would he be able to hear that song again?

The same cloak that festered in his mind was now saturated with blood. Despite the ebony fabric, there was enough blood in certain areas to dye it red. Your torso. Your legs. Your head. Though shrouded by a hood as always, your cowl was the deepest of crimsons. It was tantamount to the thick red waters of the spring. 

Vere was the first– and perhaps the only one–  to notice Ais. He furrowed his auburn brows and dropped your body onto the ground. An audible thump echoed through the alley yet you remained still, blood pooling and pooling.  

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Ais responded with silence. His eyes lingered on you. He hoped for you to chirp and twitter about something. Curse or bite someone if you must. 

“Senobium’s orders,” Vere said, tossing his hair over his shoulder, “They were snooping around too much and… you know how that goes.”

"...I see." Two meaningless words that added nothing to the conversation, something he picked up from you. He never truly grasped the meaning of the phrase– he always thought of it as a sarcastic response– but "I see" seemed suitable to use for this specific situation. The scene before Ais was truly something and damn right he saw. He saw enough to know everything.

Vere's dusty pink eyes fell to his feet where blood accumulated. His ears drooped as he stepped away from your body. If he had put his tail between his legs, he could’ve fooled anyone.  His shoulder brushed Ais’s on his way out of the alley. “We should head inside. My fur’s getting soaked.”

The demon balled his fists, words flying over his head. He sauntered deeper into the pathway and knelt down by your side. The bar’s dilapidated door creaked open and then shut, briefly shining on your marred face. There was not a single fleck of wonder or hope in your eyes. They were dull and gray like the stormy sky above you. 

“I told you the Senobium was bad news, sparrow,” Ais smiled bitterly. 

Rain trickled down his face, hot and briny. He smelt the stench of death before. He had seen disfigured bodies in the bog and drew blood during fights. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but somehow he could not bear to look at you or your mangled neck for any longer. He was getting tired of the rain already. He was tired of kneeling by your side. With a dejected sigh, Ais stood up. 

Clink!

He clicked his tongue and lifted his boot up, revealing a shard of glass. Curious, he knelt down again, examining the shattered glass around your body. Must’ve been that bottle you painted the other day. Ais could barely make out the pieces, but he saw the various shades of blue you used. His eyes shifted to a rather large fragment by his boot. Unlike the other bits of glass, this one was yellow-orange with a small black line, the silhouette of a bird flying into the sun. Ais stomped on the fragment, crushing the painted sun beneath his feet as one would with a cigarette butt. He rose from the ground and turned his back to you, but instead of entering the bar, he ventured out into the storm. 

Then maybe, just maybe, he, too, could be swept away by the rain. 

[d1rlin]

☆﹔Flower & Spring themed names

Poppy , azalea , iris , aster , flora , abelia , cedar , aspen , daphne , acacius , cordelia , poppy , elowen , clover , willow , sylvie , juniper , amaryllis , sage , rosalie , marigold , maren , cynthia , magnolia , cassia , ione , zephyr , lennox , sylvia , cassiopeia , elara , rosalind , fleur , pandora , rue , linnea , ewan , lilac , aveline , ianthe , florian , Iris , Calla , Flora , Heather , Rose , Zinnia , Aster , Clover , Dahlia , Daisy , Erica , Ivy , Kalina , Lily , Violet , Blossom , Bluebell , Hyacinth , Jasmine , Lavender , Leilani , Flora , Fleur, Floor, Flora , Flora, Flower

☆﹔Flower & Spring themed pronouns

petal/petals/petalself , sprout/sprouts/sproutself , stem/stems/stemself, leaf/leafs/leafself , bud/buds/budself , fleur/fleurs/fleurself , bloom/blooms/bloomself , fern/ferns/fernself , ama/amara/amaran/amaranth/amaranself , bloom/blooms/bloomself , bo/bel/oss/bloss/blossomself or blosself , bud/buds/budself , ca/cam/mel/mellia/camelliaself or camellself , ca/car/carna/carnati/carnationself , ca/uc/yuc/ucca/yuccaself , co/lum/bi/bine/columbineself or columself , dai/daisy/dais/dais/daisyself , do/dog/gwo/gwod/dogwoodself , fir/firs/firself , fleur/fleurs/fleurself , flo/flor/flori/florid/floridself , flor/flora/floraself , flow/flower/flowers/flowerself , frie/friez/freesi/freesi/freesiaself , fu/fuch/uch/uchia/fuchsiaself , ha/hib/bis/cus/hibiscuself , haw/hawth/thor/thorn/hawthornself or hawthself , hy/cin/hyas/hyacin/hyacinthself or hyaself , hy/hys/hyself (hyacinth) , ir/ir/iris/iri/iriself , ja/min/jas/jasmi/jasmineself , je/min/jes/jessa/jessamineself , lil/lily/lils/lilies/lilself/lilyself , lo/lot/lotu/lotus/lotuself , ma/mag/nol/nolia/magnoliaself or noliaself , nar/narc/narcir/narcirs/narcself (soft c as in certain, narcissus) , pe/peony/peo/peon/peonyself , pe/per/peri/peri/periself or periwinkle , petal/petals/petalself , po/pop/py/oppy/poppyself , rho/rhod/rhode/rhodes/rhodeself , rie/orch/id/chid/orchidself, orchiself, or orchself , ro/ros/rose/roses/roseself , rose/roses/roseself , sa/sap/saps/saps/sapself , sy/syr/rin/ringa/syringaself , ti/tul/ul/uli/tulipself , to/mis/misel/miselt/mistletoeself , tul/tulip/tulips/tulips/tulipself , vi/viol/viols/viols/violself (violet) , wi/win/winkle/winkle/winkleself or periwinkle , wi/wist/wis/wister/wisteriaself, wistself, or wisterself , zi/zin/zin/zinni/zinniaself , moss/moss/mosses/mosses/mosself , shroom/shroom/shrooms/shrooms/shroomself , spring/spring/springs/springs/springself , dew/dew/dews/dews/dewself , shine/shine/shines/shines/shineself , flower/flower/flowers/flowers/flowerself , honey/honey/honeys/honeys/honeyself

[gorefreaklintjrwi]

heyy o/

can i hear abt some of ur ocs if you have any? C:

OHHHH MY OCS............................

THE PIRATES!!!!!! KIERAN MY LITTLE GUY MY SILLY LITTLE GUY WHO HATES HIMSELFFFF PIRATE CAPTAIN WHO HATES HIMSELF FOR SOMETHING OUT OF HIS CONTROLLLL (VAMPIRISM) AND ALSO TRANSGENDER

AIDYN THE GIRL.......... SHE IS SO COOL SHE IS SO DOG CODED WILL DO ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING FOR THE PEOPLE SHE LOVES BEFORE TAKING CARE OF HERSELF.................

AMARYLLIS SUNPETAL WILL RISK HER LIFE OVER AND OVER AND OVER IF IT MEANS HER REMAINING CHILDREN WILL BE OKAY. SHE DOES NOT WANT TO LOSE ANYONE ELSE AND GOD SHE NEEDS A HUG.

ENTER: SYLVIA GOLDLEAF. XE IS AN AROACE QUEEN🔥🔥 CLERIC LADY FROM THE SKY CITY........... FALLEN WINDWRAITHS MY BELOVED AGGUGUGHH SHE IS SOOO COOL SHE ALSO THINKS THAT WITHOUT HER LITTLE MAGIC GEM SHE'D BE USELESS SO THATS FUN (she realizes how strong xe really is later)

OHHHHH MAGGIE MY SILLY LITTLE GUYYYYY WHO'S BEEN TOLD THAT THEY WOULD BE NOTHING THEIR ENTIRE LIFE AND FINALLY FEELS LIKE A PERSON WHO HAS A REASON BUT ALSO FEELS LIKE WITHOUT THAT. IF THEY CAN'T PROVIDE AND WORK. THAT NO ONE WOULD CARE ABOUT HIM. GOD. NORMAL ABOUT MY OCS I PROMISE

CLIFF................. OHHHH THE FISH THE FISH THE FISHHHHHHHH SHE WAS TRAINED TO BE A KNIGHT AND JUST WANTS TO FORGET EVERYTHING BECAUSE THEY DIDNT HAVE A CHOICE GROWING UP AND THATS ALL THEY EVER WANTED........ A CHOCIUE IN LIFE......... CLIFF MY GIRLLLLLL OUUGHHHHHHH HER FAMILY HATES HER NOWW BUT ITS OKAY THEY HATE THEM TOO🔥🔥🔥 SHE IS NEVER GOING BACKKKK

ALSO SPARROW AND ASPEN. AMARYLLIS' CHULDRENNNN THEY MAKE ME SO SICK. THEY MAKE ME SICK. ASPEN HAS A THIRST FOR ADVENTURE AND WANTS TO EXPLORE AND SEE THE WORLD AND SPARROW HAS A THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE AND WANTS TO KNOW EVERYTHING THAT HE CAN AND JUST. AUGH. OHHH THEY MAKE ME SICK.......... SPARROW NEVER WANTED TO BE A PIRATE, ASPEN GREW UP TO BE A CAPTAIN

NO IDEA IF THIS IS EVEN COMPREHENSIBLE I GET ASKED ABOUT MY OCS AND I BLACK OUT theres more too but these guys are the main ones (sylvia also has a sister but i'd have to explain like all the lore about windwraiths and the wingless and stuff and im kind of eepy honesrly)

[worldsandemanations]

Piet Mondriaan Red Amaryllis with Blue Background, c. 1907

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotWeek Mar 3 - 9, 2024

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA |🔹Submitted by creator

BACHELORETTE PARTY

Gardenia in Blossom ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| BP NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Blades Full Listing Week Ending March 9, 2024

BLOODBOUND

Hide Me In Thy Wounds - Part 2/2 ✒️🔹| Gaius Augustine x MC - @gaiuskamilah

CRIMES OF PASSION

Crimes of Passion Drabble ✒️🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Gabriel Rose 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @lilyoffandoms

Home Without Part 3 ✒️🔹| m! Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @thosehallowedhalls

Kiss and Say Goodbye 🎨🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @/artbyainna (C: @jerzwriter)

Lilah Rose (COP F!MC) 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Royalty Over Loyalty ✒️| f!Trystan Thorne x M!MC - @kwaj115

Trystan Thorne Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms

What Doesn't Killy You (Series) ✒️| Sebastyan Thorne, Marguerite Thorne, Trystan Thorne - @choices-ceri Chapter 2

THE CURSED HEART

Kieran x F!MC Fanart 🎨by @bri1234

Oleander Fanart 🎨 by @artbyalz

ENDLESS SUMMER

Never Had a Friend Like Me: Part 1 ✒️ | Diego Soto & MC - @marmolady

GUINEVERE

Lancelot du Lac 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @lilyoffandoms

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 🎨 by @sadxlee

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 2 🎨 by @sadxlee

Esme (ID F!MC) 🎨 by @artbyalz

IT LIVES WITHIN

Freesia Gaze ✒️🔹| Abel Flints x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Martin Vanderweil Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

The Three Fates 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Original Characters - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

Levi & Lily Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Zoey 🎨 by @lilyoffandoms

MULTIPLE STORIES

Choices MCS 🎨by @cassiopeiacorvus

NIGHTBOUND

Forever Royal ✒️🔹| Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Open Heart Full List Week Ending March 9, 2024

QUEEN B

I'm Not Needed, Never Will I Be ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Ina Kingsley x MC - @kwaj115

RED CARPET DIARIES

Classic Hollywood Glamour 🎨| Thomas Hunt by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd for @storyofmychoices

Happiest of Birthdays 🎨| Thomas Hunt x F!OC by @weetlebeetle (C: @theartoflovingthomashunt)

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Best Kept Secrets (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 19: Built to Last

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Liam Rys x M!MC - @justcallmefox89 Chapter 20

Hirbawi ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Drake Walker x MC - @petiteboheme

Maxwell Beaumont x MC 🎨by @bombomangooo

Princesa Real (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 1: El Amor no Existe Chapter 2: Erase Una Vez 🔹

The Royal Romance: Once Upon a Time (Chapter 2) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @fadingreveries

SUNKISSED

You're Always Going to be a Wildflower ✒️🔹| Nate, F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS

Christie Jane Hayes (MC) 🎨@lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

WISHFUL THINKING

Amaryllis Bliss ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Jamie Lewis x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma