#this is not reflected with their ink colors they are green and purple naturally

[gingergari]

late ass splatoween drawing + blacktober drawing + more talia propaganda bc when it comes to drawing for an occasion you know i’ll be late 😤

[arogustus]

Splatband Analysis: Team Past vs Present vs Future

As you all know, we all got our latest crumb of Splatband lore in the form of their signatures outside of the Grand Festival Area. The thing about these signatures, though, is that they are written on colored banners denoting the different Splatfest Teams! Red for Past, Purple for Present, and Green for Future, Plus a fourth banner for what can be assumed is Neutral.

After going insane with my friends in figuring out who's who, I now come to you guys with my theories as to why each band chose what they chose! Are yall ready? Then letsa go!

Go Team Present by the way.

Team Past here, recognizable by the Red and the fact Callie and Marie signed, has Wet Floor, Diss-Pair and SashiMori (and perhaps a certain someone). I view those who chose Team Past as those who value their beginnings. They owe what they have to their own Past. But also there might be a sense of longing for what they used to have. You'll see why in a second.

Wet Floor: Kagi formed the band to "restore some Indie dignity", disliking the current state of things. Mizole is a fan of vintage music while Ryan is a fan of the now defunct Squid Squad. Most of them are influenced by things of the past, and that probably influenced their choices.

Diss-Pair: It generally seems that, despite Ikkan's forward moving character, he still misses Squid Squad. The Ink Theory valentine's day picture did show he still carries stickers of them on his equipment. Warabi themselves probably feel they owe to their past how they got here now. They were exposed to a lot of music thanks to their childhood, and if they never traveled the world, they wouldn't have met Ikkan.

SashiMori: They all met each other long before SashiMori, coming from their old band with who we think might be Pearl, and then reforming into SashiMori thanks to Taichi. And they didn't become the way they are if they had never found Paul, you know? As for him, we've learned from Side Order that most Octarians are still nostalgic for the domes, and still view it as an important part of their lives. Its easy to know because of the Octarian we happened to adventure with.

Acht: They're here too after all (look at the little squiggle above Paul's signature. That wasn't part of his old signature). We get to learn a lot about Acht's past, and even if they've started moving on into the future, they still hold some value in it at the end of the day. That, or they simply signed the banner to be next to Paul.

Team Present, as seen by the Purple and Pearl's huge ass signature. Dork. These people are focused on the now, whether its the people they are with, or making changes in the now with the world or with oneself. Yoko's polycule of Ink Theory and the Gold Bazookas dominate the whole thing.

Ink Theory: It's a bit hard to parse, but none of them have expressed desires to change the music industry or any such grand goal. Karen cites Hightide Era as an inspiration for the band, but they do their own thing despite that. They all seem to just be content doing what they do and getting better at it.

Yoko and the Gold Bazookas: We don't know these ladies (and guy), but Yoko formed it while on a journey to reinvent herself, to become someone knew (likely after a breakup with Karen, research still pending till Bankara Walker releases). Like Ink Theory, they don't seem to have any grandiose goals beyond just playing music for its sake.

Team Future, presented in Green with Deep Cut in the corner. These people look to the future, wanting to make a change, sometimes taking the old to make something new with it. Hightide Era, Bottom Feeders and H2Whoa are here.

Hightide Era: (They still live, booo.) It comes of as strange considering we know Taka is a shallow poser who uses music to get fame and fortune, with Kuze and Nishida seemingly just along for the ride. But there is one thing about the future they care about; nature. They named themselves Hightide Era to reflect the current reality of ecology, so it seems they do care about environmental awareness and the future of their world. Neat!

Bottom Feeders: Finn Bottom wants to show the goodness of traditional music to a changing world, while Tangle dislikes the current state of music and wants to return to more straightforward styles. It sounds like they'd be more Team Past material, but they do seem to focus more on the changing aspect of their craft rather than the past part, unlike Wet Floor.

H2Whoa: They're harder to parse since we have no idea of their personalities. They're described as Topical, meaning they're very current with trends, but that seems to be in a sort of paradoxical disregard for what is actually big at the moment, with all the punk rock and jazz. They play music their own way without a care for the present or past.

And this is the Neutral zone. Chaos vs Order did have a few people who were neutral in the battle, so it seems here is the same deal. These bands didn't make a choice, perhaps because they couldn't decide due to finding all three choices important, or all three choices unimportant. Chirpy Chips, Front Roe, C-Side, Riot Act and Damp Socks are our final bands to see.

Chirpy Chips: I imagine they're a case where they see all three choices as important. The main thing about the Chips is that they are all close to each other and go at their own pace regardless of whats going on. They had a breakup in the past that was quickly resolved, and they haven't broken up since, meaning they're all very close to each other. Past, Present or Future, the Chirpy Chips are forever.

Front Roe: Well clearly they're still hiding their identities from the public with new signatures, though it seems Ichiya is the only one trying to hide. I think they're in the unsure category. Front Roe is literally them trying to distance themselves from Squid Squad, but they owe their lives to it no matter how hard they run. Their present i feel kinda sucks what with C-Side being on their assess. And I think they don't even know what their future holds for them.

C-Side: They're kind of a no brainer to me since their description gives evidence for each choice. They value the Splatlands and the lives they live there (Past), they care deeply for each other and are very close (Present), and Beika wants to gift his music to a world of shifting chaos (Future). They all see each choice as equally valuable to them.

Riot Act: I feel they share the same opinions as C-Side (in fact I think they came with them to the venue, considering they share a Kikura). Plus their collab with Bottom Feeders show they appreciate the music of now and are happy with making it with other bands.

Damp Socks: We don't really know much about them, but I feel they fall in the indifferent category. Yeah, I got nothing for them

Back to the Fest

Like I say often, these are my interpretations as to what this information could mean. Feel free to share what your ideas are about their Splatfest choices. And happy Splatting!

[mysticstarlightduck]

WAIT IGNORE MY LAST ASK I PUT THE WRONG QUESTION LMAO

HERE IS THE REAL WBW (i accidentally did a blorbo one LOL)

anyway happy worldbuilding wednesday! what are some fashion trend(s) in your world(s)?

Happy (Late) Worldbuilding Wednesday! Thank you so much for the Ask, @cabbojage!

What are some fashion trends (s) in your world(s)?

Oooh, I adore this topic!

In Agrannor, there are many different fashion trends which all vary depending on which culture they belong to!

For example, in Ergyre, gold and purple clothes are extremely popular among high-standing nobles looking to get in the good graces of the current Triarchy, by wearing the kingdom's colors. Nail polish, exaggerated makeup, and intricate masks are also beloved trends in Ergyre. The finest tailors/seamstresses, makeup artists, and hairdressers are always in high demand in this kingdom for this specific reason.

The inhabitants of Vellamere opt for practical yet intricately flowy clothes, perfect for both social gatherings and setting sail into the vast open sea. Silk dresses, as well as scarves and delicately woven headdresses, are incredibly popular. Vellamere is also known for its incredibly vibrant colorful clothes, painted with bright ink and intricate embroidery. Pearlescent seashell necklaces, as well as many different kinds of handmade artisanal jewelry, created from items usually found on and near the sea.

Etaruze and Farravia are known for long overcoats covered in colorful yet delicate brocades, ruffled cotton shirts, and embroidered leather ornaments. Makeup is welcomed and indulged in as a form of art and self-expression. Colors are strong and vibrant, but hold a sense of subtlety and nobility. Faravvia is much more vibrant than Etaruze, which favors more delicate and pastel tones. Both kingdoms are known for their strong use of makeup, nail polish, and bold hairstyles.

Nethilor's fashion trends are often reminiscent of aspects/symbolism of the seasons of Spring and Autumn, as this kingdom is by far the most connected to its flora. Vibrant dresses as green as summer leaves, purple gowns and suits like blossoms in early spring, wooden headdresses, and earthly-colored attires - this is what Nethilor is rather known for.

The Morosyn Empire values austerity, efficiency, and stoicism, but also boasts its power, wealth, and conquests. Their fashion sense is a mix of these values. While some of the more traditional nobles of the Imperial court choose to wear delicate/stern attires in the Imperial colors of marble white, gold, and silver, some of the more eclectic nobles import fashion traditions from Ergyre and Arkellya, wearing more vibrant colors, especially purple and dark blue, as well as statement pieces of headwear. In the Empire, makeup and nail polish are often kept more delicate and faint, using the Imperial colors to strike a sense of severity. Bolder colors of makeup are often reserved for courtesans and other entertainers.

The Kingdom of Midtaren values fashion trends that blend with the forests, looking as one with the forest. So their clothes often reflect colors often found in the woodlands, from green and brown for gowns and clothes to vibrant blues, delicate pinks, and opaque yellows for accessories. They value practicality and flexibility, liking clothes that look fancy but which allow them to swiftly move around the forest trees, where their city is nestled above. They like clothes that echo of the nature around them.

[lanierpens2023]

Unveiling the Elegance: Exploring the World of Monteverde Fountain Pen Inks

In the digital age, where keyboards and touchscreens dominate communication, the art of fountain pen writing stands as a timeless testament to elegance and sophistication. Fountain pens evoke a sense of nostalgia, bringing to mind a bygone era when the act of putting pen to paper was an art form in itself. Among the many elements that contribute to the allure of fountain pens, the choice of ink plays a pivotal role. In this article, we delve into the realm of Monteverde fountain pen ink, a brand synonymous with quality and innovation.

Crafting Masterpieces with Monteverde

Monteverde, a renowned name in the world of fine writing instruments, has been producing exceptional fountain pen inks since its inception. The company's commitment to quality and craftsmanship is reflected in every bottle of Monteverde fountain pen ink. What sets Monteverde apart is not only the exquisite range of colors they offer but also the meticulous attention to detail in their ink formulations.

A Kaleidoscope of Colors

One of the most captivating aspects of Monteverde fountain pen inks is the extensive array of colors available. Whether you prefer classic blues and blacks or desire a burst of vibrancy with reds, greens, or purples, Monteverde has a color for every taste and occasion. The pigments used in their inks are carefully selected to ensure not only vividness but also a smooth and consistent flow on paper.

Superior Performance on Paper

The hallmark of a remarkable fountain pen ink is its performance on paper. Monteverde fountain pen inks excel in this regard, offering a smooth writing experience with every stroke. The inks are formulated to flow effortlessly, allowing for a consistent line without skips or smudges. This characteristic makes Monteverde inks a favorite among writers, artists, and enthusiasts who demand nothing but the best from their fountain pens.

Innovation in Ink Technology

Monteverde is not content with resting on its laurels. The brand continuously strives for innovation in ink technology. One notable example is their use of ITF (Ink Treatment Formula), a cutting-edge ink treatment that improves ink flow and lubricity. This innovation not only enhances the writing experience but also contributes to the longevity of the pen and minimizes maintenance requirements.

Environmentally Conscious Ink Choices

In an era where sustainability is paramount, Monteverde stands out by offering environmentally conscious ink choices. Many of their inks are formulated with natural, non-toxic ingredients, making them a responsible choice for eco-conscious consumers. The brand's commitment to both quality and environmental stewardship aligns with the values of modern consumers who seek products that balance luxury with sustainability.

Monteverde Fountain Pen Inks - A Lasting Impression

In the world of fountain pen enthusiasts, the choice of ink is a deeply personal one. Monteverde fountain pen inks have earned a reputation for leaving a lasting impression on users. Whether you're a seasoned writer, an artist seeking the perfect medium, or someone looking to elevate the act of writing, Monteverde offers a palette of colors that transcends the ordinary.

[ballpens]

Ink Colors and Varieties: Exploring the World of BallPen Inks

In our digital age, where typing and texting have become the primary modes of written communication, it's easy to forget the tangible, artistic beauty of traditional handwriting. The ballpoint pen, a ubiquitous writing instrument, is often taken for granted. But beneath its commonplace exterior lies a fascinating world of ink colors and varieties that can add depth and personality to your writing.

The Basics of Ball Pen Inks

Ballpoint pens, introduced in the mid-20th century, utilize a tiny ball bearing to distribute ink onto paper. This mechanism makes them reliable, quick-drying, and virtually smudge-proof. The ink inside these pens is often oil-based, which contributes to its unique properties.

The most common ink colors are black, blue, and red, serving as the staples for everyday writing. But don't be fooled by their apparent simplicity; even within these primary colors, you can find a wide array of shades and subtleties. For instance, black ink can range from the deepest ebony to a dark gray, offering nuances that affect the tone and appearance of your writing.

Beyond the Basics: A Kaleidoscope of Colors

While traditional black and blue inks are utilitarian, ballpoint pens have expanded their horizons, offering a plethora of colors to cater to different preferences and purposes. Here are some intriguing ink options:

Green Ink: A symbol of growth, renewal, and nature, green ink can bring a refreshing touch to your writing. It's often associated with creativity and innovation.

Purple Ink: Signifying elegance and creativity, purple ink is often chosen by those who want their writing to stand out. It's perfect for adding a touch of sophistication to your work.

Turquoise Ink: Combining the calmness of blue and the vibrancy of green, turquoise ink is associated with creativity and self-expression. It's ideal for journaling and personal writing.

Pink Ink: Soft and inviting, pink ink conveys emotions such as love and friendship. It's often chosen for personal notes and letters.

Brown Ink: Evoking a sense of stability and reliability, brown ink can add a touch of vintage charm to your writing. It's favored by those who appreciate tradition and heritage.

Gold and Silver Inks: These metallic inks add a touch of glamour and elegance to your writing. They're often used for special occasions and artistic projects.

Ink Varieties: Gel vs. Oil vs. Hybrid

Beyond the rainbow of colors, ballpoint pen inks come in different formulations. The three primary categories are gel, oil, and hybrid inks, each with its unique characteristics:

Gel Ink: Gel inks offer a smooth and consistent flow, producing sharp and crisp lines. They are known for their vibrant colors and are a popular choice for those who appreciate precision in their writing.

Oil-Based Ink: The traditional choice for ballpoint pens, oil-based inks are reliable and quick-drying. They are resistant to water and smudging, making them a practical option for everyday use.

Hybrid Ink: Hybrid inks combine the best of both gel and oil-based inks. They provide the smoothness of gel inks and the quick-drying properties of oil-based inks, offering a balance between performance and convenience.

Choosing the Right Ink for Your Needs

The wide array of ink colors and formulations can be overwhelming, but the choice ultimately comes down to personal preference and the context in which you plan to use the pen. Here are some factors to consider when selecting the right ink:

Purpose: Consider whether you're using the pen for everyday writing, artistic projects, or special occasions. Different contexts may call for different ink colors and properties.

Personal Style: Your ink choice can reflect your personality and style. Are you more drawn to bold and vibrant colors, or do you prefer classic and understated options?

Paper Quality: The type of paper you write on can affect how ink appears. Some papers may absorb ink differently, so it's essential to consider the compatibility of the ink and paper.

Special Features: Some pens come with unique ink options, such as scented or erasable inks. These can add a fun and functional dimension to your writing.

Ink Refills: Check if the pen allows for ink refills or if it's disposable. Opting for refillable pens can be both cost-effective and environmentally friendly.

The Art of Expression Through Color

In a world that often prioritizes speed and efficiency in communication, the act of writing with a ballpoint pen and selecting the right ink becomes an art form in itself. The color and quality of the ink you choose can convey emotion, personality, and intention in ways that digital text cannot.

Experimenting with different ink colors and varieties can inspire creativity and bring joy to the act of writing. Whether you're jotting down notes in a meeting, expressing your thoughts in a journal, or penning heartfelt letters to loved ones, the world of ballpoint pen inks offers a broad palette to enhance your personal and creative expression.

In conclusion, ball pen inks are more than just a means to write; they are a canvas for self-expression. From the vibrant hues of gel inks to the classic elegance of black and blue, the world of ballpoint pen inks is a colorful journey waiting to be explored. So, next time you pick up a ballpoint pen, remember that you're not just writing; you're painting your thoughts with the ink you choose.

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I���m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.

[skekheck]

All About the Seven Clans: The Dousan

This post contains everything I could find about the Dousan. Some information written here are from older material and may either contradict statements or is no longer relevant. I will do my best to string it all together as coherently as possible. If there is information that I am missing, please let me know and I’ll add it!

Clan Index: Dousan Drenchen Grottan Sifa Spriton Stonewood Vapra

Overview

An elusive clan that lived in the Crystal Desert, also known as the Crystal Sea and Desert of the Dead. Being the most spiritual of the seven clans, their lives revolved around Thra, its mysteries, and the cycle of life and death. For these reasons other gelfling clans were suspicious and even afraid of them. The skeksis encouraged this by spreading their own rumors and barred the Dousan from becoming guards at the Castle of the Crystal for they found their worship of death revolting.

The Dousan’s clan color was orange, their totem animal the Daeydoim, and their core elements were the skies, endless heavens and the studies of its celestial bodies, and lightning. Their sigil color was dark yellow/orange and their pennant colors were orange, blue, and yellow.

Characteristics 

The Dousan had one of the most striking features among other gelfling. Their skin were mainly blue, but had hints of yellow that started at the forehead and could extend down the face. Eye color tended to be very light, almost off-white in some cases, sticking to yellows, greens, and browns. Darker eye colors were also possible. Primary hair colors were purple or white with strands of dark brown and/or white. It was commonly styled in braids, ponytails, dreadlocks, and sometimes a combination of all three. Some also preferred to shave their heads. In concept art, a Dousan’s wings were white with black spots.

As they were a minimalist clan, the Dousan dressed for function over appearance and adorned themselves sparingly. They wore long flowing cloaks that protected them from the weather and were light enough to travel. They were crystal-weaved from the crystals scattered along the desert which made the Dousan blend into its sparkling, ever moving sand currents. Much like their pennant, their clothing sported dark blues, yellows, and oranges although black, browns, and reds were also worn. It was common for Dousan to have head protection, whether it were hoods, headscarfs, or other head covering. Of the few accessories a Dousan had were their bone charms, attached with simple marble and string. Spiritual leaders carved their bones with geometric patterns.

Tattoos

Arguably the most prominent feature of the Dousan were their tattoos. They weren’t just tattooed on the face, but their bodies as well. Each tattoo told a story, usually of significant experiences from their adventures in the desert. It also doubled as protection from the Three Suns. Common colors were deep blue, green, and gold, found in abundance from the pollen and plants of crystal palms. Rarer colors were white and silver. If the Dousan desired these colors, they would had to go get the material themselves. This was one of the few instances of materialism they displayed. 

The tattooing process was long and painful. It was performed with Crystal Skimmer scales, a mallet, and plenty of ink. The scales were laced with thousands of small spikes and could be cut and shaped into different patterns. The tattooer, which was always an elder sage from the Wellspring, would place the scale spines facing down and pounded onto the skin so it was kept in place. Drops of ink would then be inserted into an opening carved within the scale and then bled into the skin. Because the spines were not closely knitted, the process was repeated several times to get a rich solid color. 

Connection With The Skeksis (and Mystics) and Belief System

They were one of the few gelfling clans far removed from skeksis influence. The Dousan even went as far as omitting prayer and rituals based around the lords which was considered heresy. SkekMal the Hunter seemed to have been the only skeksis that interacted with them, but his visits were rare. This doesn’t mean the Dousan were completely removed from their involvement with the Lords of the Crystal. They supplied them with incense and desert-specific animals such as the peeper beetle and guided the Hunter when he needed passage through the desert. Instead, the Dousan were influenced by the skeksis’ other halves: the urru.

There was conflicting information surrounding just how many were involved (either one or two) and the name(s) are not confirmed. However, according to Songs of the Seven Clans, “guardian” and “navigator” were named. Deduction suggests they could be urZah the Ritual Guardian and urGoh the Wanderer.   It was also not exactly known why the mystics taught the Dousan as the mystic way was to observe not intervene. But the Dousan inherited their beliefs and adopted an introspective nature. They were taught how to meditate, guard rituals, and listen. They also had beliefs in sacred geometry, represented by the bone charms they wore. The Dousan believed they were given the responsibility by Thra to contemplate the mysteries of life. Much like the mystics, they surrendered themselves to Thra’s will and wisdom and never interfered in the grand scheme of things even if it meant losing the precious gifts Thra provided for them. 

Then, of course, was their apparent worship of life and death. They believed the threshold between the two realms were very thin and thus created a tradition around the inevitable. That being said, the Dousan believed death was not the end nor should be caused for fear or sorrow. When life ended, it began anew in Thra’s lush beauty. For many Dousan, becoming comfortable with death was a lifelong spiritual pursuit. They were also the only clan who viewed Mother Aughra and the skeksis as mortal beings instead of immortal deities. 

While the mystics taught the Dousan their ways, the clan eventually forgot who they were. Their likeness was illustrated within the Wellspring Cloister, but they were constantly misinterpreted as the skeksis (which was discouraged by elder sages). The Dousan had simply referred to them as ancient sages. 

Lifestyle

When the Six Sisters were given their duties, the sister which would become the first Dousan maudra was given the heavens to study the suns, moons, and stars. It was there that they made their home in the Crystal Desert.  

The Dousan were nomads. Living in an arid climate plagued by storms and sands that continuously shifted discouraged permanent settlement outside the Wellspring. They made their homes out of sand skiffs (also called sand ships), their trusted Crystal Skimmers, and camps. Because of this constant change and travel, the Dousan had particularly simple and immaterial lifestyles. They had very few possessions and only carried what they needed. 

Due to the scarcity of materials, they used whatever they could find including the crystals found in the desert and the remains of deceased animals. They were particularly skilled in bone carpentry, utilizing bones and other animal remains for tools, shelter, ships, and instruments. Their preferred weapon was the bone dagger. The Dousan traveled all throughout the dangerous desert, but there were places even they refused to go. They believed the Circle of the Suns, a ruin located deep within the Crystal Desert, was cursed. The clan unanimously agreed to forbade anyone from traveling there.  

Daily Routine

Daily work was put into two categories: body tasks and spiritual tasks. Body tasks involved food preparation, collecting water, seeking shelter from storms, scavenging, and other types of physical labor. They were assigned during specific times of the day or in cases of emergencies. The rest of their time were dedicated to spiritual tasks. Most of it involved meditation but also included minor things like incense making and fire burning. It helped remind the Dousan of their communion with Thra and the Crystal and reflect on their own mortality. These rituals helped the clan face the harshness of the desert, approaching dangers and finding the paths to precious resources.

Diet

The Dousan were mostly vegetarian but they weren’t strangers to meat. They refrained from eating diurnal animals and hunted nocturnal insects, birds, and other animals instead. Their primary source of food came from the flowers and vegetation that grew in the desert which, unlike animals, had no restrictions. Water was collected at night as that’s when desert dew was able to form and were collected in shallow water traps. Considering the environment they lived in, they rationed their food and water but doing so taught the Dousan about self control and restraint. Before eating, they would take a moment to acknowledge the plants and animals who gave their lives so that the gelfling could consume them. 

Some notable Dousan foods were fruits found at the Wellspring. They had slightly hairy, leathery rinds with yellow meat. The taste was described as sweet with a “green” after taste resembling that of meadow grass. A delicacy among the southern xerics were raw spine flower blossoms drizzled with nectar from the flower’s pollen.

While not eaten for food, the urdrupe berries were another staple vegetation of the Dousan. They were hallucinogenic and when eaten helped one converse with Thra and see the future. Taking urdrupes was a notable occurrence among shamans. 

The Xerics 

The Dousan had a particularly large population, but rarely would congregate together and were always apart within the vastness of the desert. Therefore, a highly organized system of close-knitted groups called xerics were created. There were twelve in total, which were made up of 12 - 30 gelfling. Smaller xerics were solely reliant on sand skirffs while larger ones needed the aid of Crystal Skimmers, sometimes more than one. A Dousan was assigned to a xeric by the Dousan Maudra and her council of sandmasters and elders based on the gelfling’s aptitude and skills. When a gelfling was assigned a xeric and left the Wellspring it was an important day and often celebrated. Each gelfling were given specific roles depending on the size and territory of that xeric.

Sandmaster: Also referred to as a captain, they were apprentices selected and trained by the Maudra. They often made decisions and acted on her behalf as well as commanded over their assigned xeric. The sandmaster carried a horn made of bone that would summon the Dousan together in emergencies. They also carried a smaller bone-like whistle to command their Crystal Skimmer if they had larger xeric.  They held the highest rank above the other roles in the xeric unless the Maudra was present.

Second sandmasters: Dousan who worked and trained under the sandmaster should they need to take over. They also served in the xeric’s council, making decisions along with the sandmaster and elders before action was taken. True to their namesake, there were two of them and they held the second highest rank in the xeric.

Guardian: Gelfling that were given this role were usually the elderly members. They were ritual guardians well versed in meditations and practices observed and performed by the Dousan. They were in charge of delegating daily spiritual tasks and acted as mentors. Being a well respected member of the xeric, they held a similar ranking to the second sandmasters and served on the sandmaster’s council. 

Pilots: Important sand sailors who worked in and out of transit. They were in charge of controlling sand skiffs. They seemed to be specific to smaller xerics.

Navigators: Similarly as important as pilots although they were found in all xerics. They were readers of the skies and kept an eye on the constantly changing dunes. Some navigators were far-dreamers. 

Crystal Skimmer Trainer: A role only found in larger xerics. An offset of normal pilots who directed and trained with Crystal Skimmers. It was said it took a great deal of bravery and fortitude to build strong bonds with Skimmers as they were headstrong but otherwise loyal. During bad storms, the Dousan would climb into a Crystal Skimmer’s mouth for safety. They would also use the insides of the beast’s gums to store supplies.

Sand Sailors: Also called Sand Mariners, these were ordinary ranked Dousan. Sand sailors was also synonymous for the entire xeric crew aside from the sandmaster.

Dousan Song and the Language of Silence

As with all gelfling clans, song was an important part of the Dousan’s culture. It was said that theirs were unequaled as it invoked the very song of Thra and knitted the realms of the living and the dead together. The Dousan believed they were carried to them by the winds of the Crystal Desert.

But the strangest thing about their songs was plenty of it were silent. Even outside of that, the Dousan rarely spoke with their mouths. Rather they used a form of sign language called vojeye and communicated with each other with quick articulated hand gestures. It benefited both the body and spirit. Speaking would take away too much moisture so not talking conserved it. The sign language granted them a greater spiritual connection, being undistracted and always listening, they were able to hear Thra. Even in environments like the Wellspring, the Dousan preferred communicating in vojeye.

They also sung in vojeye. When a songteller, an uncommon role in the clan, “sings” they did so in a flurry of hand gestures. It became a beautiful fluid dance where entire stanzas and verses were told without sound. Much like many things in their culture, their songs were highly protected. On the rare occasion a Dousan sung instruments weren’t always involved. The songteller would simply use their environment or own body to create sound, like tapping their fingers against their knee. The only other times Dousan sung out loud were at funerals and the chants and prayers heard within the Wellspring Cloister. 

Day of the Dying Sun

The most sacred Dousan holiday was celebrated when the Dying Sun was visible in the sky. The Dousan would gather in threes, removed their head coverings, and performed what was called an empty dreamfast. It was a dreamfast with no memories or voice, instead a shared meditation in silence. It would last until the Dying Sun dipped below the horizon. The Dousan saw the Three Brothers as representations of life and death, with the Dying Sun represented as the journey to death. They believed that by empty dreamfasting they shared the journey of the Triple Sun’s dying incarnation, better preparing themselves for the day they too would make that journey. 

Trial of the Daeydoim

The trial was inspired by a re-imagining of Raunip’s story, something that the Dousan deeply related to. A star that fell from the heavens was given a name by Aughra and believed it was a native of Thra until it learned the truth. In contemplation of everything it learned, it wandered the desert for all eternity to find its final resting place. From its footsteps sprouted the Daeydoim.

The challenge was performed only twice in a Dousan’s life: once as a youngling when they were preparing to leave the Wellspring and second as an elder when they retired from their xeric. They would go out into the desert with nothing but a red sheet of clothing, leave the Wellspring in the dead of night, and not return for three days. If they returned, they were rewarded with milk from the Wellspring Tree. If they were a younging, they were allowed to stand by the Maudra and council to be assigned their xeric and role. If they were an elder, they were granted their “Last Home”, a hut by the Wellspring and a seat at the elder’s council. It’s unknown what the Dousan do during the trial and not all return. 

Dousan Funerals

While funerals performed by other clans were somber, the Dousan’s were livelier. These were one of the very few times instruments and verbal singing were performed. The deceased would be buried underneath the soil of the Wellspring Tree and their belongings be piled into a pyre. The Maudra lights it and the other Dousan would celebrate the life of the fallen through songs and dance. The members of the deceased’s xeric would sing about their favorite memories about the gelfling. What remained of the deceased’s belongings were scattered among the sands of the desert by wind, signaling a final farewell. 

Incense

The incense made by the Dousan were highly sought out by the other clans and could be found all throughout Thra. Even the skeksis used their incense during their own ceremonies. Its aroma was described to be savory and heady and produced a blue smoke. 

Incense making was reserved only for elders at the Wellspring. The incense took the form of palm-sized chips which were burned in torch wells under enchantment until their signature blue smoke filled the air. Traditionally, the incense was made from dried bark from aging parts of the Wellspring Tree. it was grinded into fine powder and compacted into bricks using sticky sap also found from the Great Tree. It was left out to dry in arid conditions where the fine dust dried rapidly and hardened which was then carved into chips. 

The Wellspring and Oszah-Staba

The Wellspring was the hometown of the Dousan. It was an oasis found within a valley far up north of the Crystal Desert and nestled around the Claw Mountains. It looked like a dense jungle with amber red and gold trees and a large lake with the Great Tree towering over it. The Dousan’s communal hearth was located near the back end of the lake. Tents, canopies, and Last Homes resided near the lake’s edges many of which were temporary. Only elders and younglings who had yet to be assigned to a xeric lived there. Most other Dousan only arrived to trade, refill supplies, or had wounds tended to. Only times when all Dousan congregated at the Wellspring were for emergencies or certain celebrations. 

The Oszah-Staba, or simply the Wellspring Tree, was the Dousan’s Great Tree.  It was characterized as an upper canopy of enormously broad leaves that provided shelter to travelers and prevented storms from reaching the Wellspring. It also produced a white milk from its leaves when cut which had lightning repellent properties. Dousan would smear this liquid on their clothing and skiffs for protection.

In the J.M. Lee book series, the Wellspring Tree was barely a waterlogged tree trunk beneath the lake. All the Dousan believed it had died except Periss, who kept insisting it wasn’t. When Periss helped Naia and her group to the Wellspring, he had them assist him in reviving the tree. With the help of Amri, Naia’s healing, and (with convincing) the entire Dousan clan, Oszah-Staba was revived and sprouted back to its former self just in time to dissipate the incoming storm that would had otherwise destroyed the Wellspring.

The Wellspring Cloister

Walking down a promenade hidden under the sand lead to the Wellspring Cloister that lied within the crags of the Claw Mountain. It was a temple carved by the Dousan over hundreds of trine. The entire cliff face as well as its insides were etched with figures and pictographs. It was written record of the Dousan’s wisdom, which included illustrations of the passage of time and the clan’s history. Among its notable illustrations were of gelfling, storms, the Wellspring tree, and the mystics. Within the temple was a large effigy of the Crystal of Truth, which was the size of an average gelfling. The Dousan would come to the Cloister to pray and at least three would be found there at a time.

Relationships With Other Clans

Due to cultural differences, the Dousan rarely leaving the desert, and misunderstanding, other clans were highly suspicious and generally found the Dousan morbid and creepy. Many of the stereotypes revolving the clan were most likely perpetuated by the Skeksis, but these beliefs were held through the Gelfling Rebellion as well. The Dousan’s quietness and being highly protective of also created the assumption they were aloof and unfriendly.  However, the Dousan never prioritized their traditions over connecting with outsiders. They just had an individualized connection with Thra that was sacred to them and them alone so they never felt they needed to explain it to others. They were otherwise friendly with other Gelfling.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t share the clan-first mentality. Taking a mate from another clan was seen as a capital offense. At least before they were taught by the mystics they treated gelfling who committed this crime more brutally, going as far as to hunt them down even when they left the desert.

The only true clan relationship the Dousan had with was the equally nomadic Sifa. On the rare occasions they left the Crystal Desert, they would go to Cera-Na and trade with them. It was noted that every time the Sifa’s mother ship, Omerya-Staba, were audibly amazed at the sight of it. They dedicated a song to the vessel titled “the Sifa Mother of Sa-Schala”.

Aside from Cera-Na, Dousan travelers were also spotted in Ha’rar’s port markets but these visits too were infrequent. 

Legacy and Connection With the Firelings

The Dousan may be the only known surviving clan after the end of skeksis rule. A village within an unspecified forest was founded by Chal the Explorer, an exiled Dousan early into the Age of Division. While not clearly indicated, the inhabitants may have been descendants of the clan and practiced aspects of their culture although plenty seemed to have been lost. It’s unknown if this village was kept a secret during the Age of Division and gelfling lived there, it was the origin place of another clan, or the descendants found out about it and settled.

Other descendants of the Dousan were the firelings, or at the very least the first firelings, as Chal was the father of Cindrah. They remained untouched by skeksis influence and were able to flourish during the Age of Division. There seemed to be small evidence of some of Dousan culture as the firelings had a group system similar to xerics early on in their history.

Notable Dousan Members

Rek’yr: The charming and slightly rebellious sandmaster from the late Age of Division. He was the captain of the southern xeric and former guide for the Hunter. He helped the gelfling resistance by guiding the gelfling to the Circle of the Suns with his Crystal Skimmer Bennu.

Maudra Seethi, the Skin Painter: The Dousan Maudra during the late Age of Division. She took the legacy of funeral rites seriously and made it her duty to pass them on to the next generation. Her transcendental dream-etching were said to be glimpses into the afterlife.

Periss: Younger brother of Sandmaster Erimon. Because he had conflict with the Dousan ways, he ran away and became a thief who wandered around Cera-Na and Ha’rar stealing all the riches he could find.

Erimon: A well respected sandmaster who commanded over a smaller xeric. He constantly butted heads with his brother over their ideologies and always had to fix the messes he made.

Chal: A significant member of the Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. An explorer who was cast out by his clan for being eloped to a gelfling from another clan. He discovered Mithra and the future home of Kensho and was the father of the first fireling.

Kataal: A Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. He and his xeric chased Chal across Thra to punish him for committing heresy.

Maudra Io: A Dousan Maudra from an unknown time period within the Age of Division. Her Skimmer, named Urami, was famous for its lineage went back to the Skimmer of the first Dousan that entered the desert.

Kensho: A descendant of the Dousan born in the Age of Power. Once an acolyte who made himself an offering to save his clan, his destiny became intertwined with the fireling princess Thurma who got involved with the re-breaking and re-mending of the Crystal of Truth. Later he gained the power of absorbing the darkening and became the leader of the Gelfling Nation.

Kolba: Another descendant of the Dousan and mother of Kensho in the Age of Power. She resided in the village founded by Chal.

[Sources: Song of the Seven Gelfling Clans, The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance, Inside the Epic Return To Thra, Official Dark Crystal Website, Song of the Dark Crystal, Tides of the Dark Crystal,  Heroes of the Resistance, Author Quest: The Gelfling Gathering, Power of the Dark Crystal, the Dark Crystal Bestiary]

[vylequinnewriting]

Underwing Challenge Day 4

Hello, and welcome to Day 4 of the Underwing Challenge. Here’s a link to the challenge if you want more info.

What’s the world of your WIP like?

The world Making a Killing is set in is Telvan. Telvan is a world where magic permeates the water, soil, and even the words you speak. Telvan is ruled by seven Gods who affect the world by tying their power to natural forces in the world. Referred to as Domains, there is Order, Change, Creation, Motivation, Gift, Exchange, and Loss, represented by the colors yellow, orange, red, silver, green, blue, and purple, respectively. Under each God is a possibly infinite amount of Aspects who control increasingly small parts of each God’s roles. They can be as benign as the Aspect of Hidden Garments, who is the reason you lose a sock in the wash every now and then, or the Aspect of Unrelenting Blight that wants to “gift” the world diseases. There are a large number of races in Telvan, some being direct creations of the gods and others the result of errant magic over a long period of time. The most common are Huemans, who are identical to real-life humans except with the potential to have brightly colored eyes and hair that reflect their domain, Thay’Rhyll, also known as Thae, who are what happens when you cross an elf with a satyr, and Chrominé, “dragon” people who range from more traditionally draconic and scaly to amphibian and slimy.

Here’s a map of Telvan. (With a link to the post that goes slightly more in depth with geography.)

Making a Killing takes place in the city of Zastüd (the brown spot marked 13 off the center of the map.) The sun once fell in that area and burnt all traces of magic away, so it is the only place on Telvan that doesn’t directly lie under control of a specific God. Created by a joint effort by nearly every region, Zastüd has an extraordinarily diverse population, and even accomadates rarer races like werewolves, merpeople, and the occasional vampire. In order to supply the people with magic, magic-rich water is piped throughout city. Magic can be used for nearly anything in Telvan as long as you can put in enough effort to make it work. Zastüd even has a rudimentary form of the internet! (It’s essentially mass telepathy.) Magic is even used aesthetically (in the form of runestone piercings and magical ink tattoos) and magic prostheses have become increasignly more common since Zastüd was built.

Spell casting in Telvan has two branches. There are those who use the magical particles of an object to create a spell. It’s called Catalyst magic and anyone can produce any effect if they put in enough work to learn the spell. Then there’s Hieromancy, which draws upon the magic present in your own body to produce an effect that is unique to you. This effect is based on your psyche and each Hieromancer’s power is different from another in some regard. A relatively new form of magic, Hieromancy is achieved through having a traumatic experience and/or coming in to contact with an extremely condensed source of magic. Most characters are Hieromancers in MaK as a result of Duhl’s experiments with magic. So far, Canel is the only Catalyst user.

[purplehaze-y]

Project 1: Skate Deck- Progress

The idea for this series was ‘Aspects of Dusk’. It was meant to capture the moment’s of dusk when that magic hour of skateboarding happens, and those feelings of the last light upon you as you skate. I wanted to have a very mystic feeling, and a very rich color palette. I wanted to take the designs back to skateboarding’s roots in the 70′s and 90′s while adding various points of mysticism and a healthy amounts of music references as I love music but music often rather reflects a feeling that is spoken but untold. That was something I was determined to portray in this project. Music is something very important to me and how I create my art, so using music as a catalyst to execute my theme was essential. 

The first board (left display), was meant to have a late sixties and early seventies color palette and lean on less imagery and more color. These three colors, red, yellow, and blue, were meant to be very dusk-like in nature and focus more on the hand’s twisting fleshy arrangement and the gesture. Looking back I think I was subconsciously inspired for the fleshy gesture and the way the eye was portrayed later in a very stark and unsettling nature by a favorite record of mine by King Crimson and maybe even the inside of The Wall by Pink Floyd’s slip jacket. I have used the hand gesture before for another project and wanted to practice it’s form as I am not overly confident in the way I draw hands. The Beatles Jukebox was originally a contender for the green door I ended up using, but it felt to colorful and I scrapped that idea. The bandaids were kind of used as a reference to all the spills that happen when skating. The purple on the hands were also rather impromptu, but I felt it fit the theme for the “Haze Faze’ board as a smokey specter and I wanted this board to be very unspecific so that anyone could project onto it and not have it be very skin-color specific. That green door I used as a reference, partially because I love green doors and their history, but also because of the knob being right in the middle and it reminding me of a certain hobbit-hole. This door actually exists in London, so if you are there, you may spot it! 

The second board (middle display), was meant to have a very Woodstock-y and that ‘height of psychedelic rock’ feeling. As such, I thought of the famed Woodstock concert on the Isle of Wight and the Jimi Hendrix statue that rests there,and that lead to thinking of other bands along a similar vein in and outside of that time period (mainly those with either that feeling or a rainbow motif) such as The Grateful Dead, Phish, the cover of Yes’s Time and a Word record and the checkered motif I love to use and it’s ties to the van’s 90′s skate culture, the Troggs and the Association, and then I decided to incorporate some Beatles motif since the jukebox was eventually axed- that and the sugar magnolia blossom wasn’t fitting within the design shape and was shifted to the third board. That said I picked a pink strawberry blossom, the six-petal variety, as the regular white variety would not have worked. The teacups were meant to show a soft and fragile nature that ended up being a show of different time-periods, courts, and European cups for different types of tea servings and different classes. It’s a niche passion, but something that reminds me of my childhood and my family’s culture. Skateboard decks are also something that can be very masculine, and I wanted to make a feminine board that anyone of any gender could like. Though the second board was the weakest in design I’m glad I kept my faith in it and saw it through. 

The third board (right display), was more of a nineties board with a more obvious historical feeling, and also a bit of a modernistic feel. I wanted to take a the sun symbol you often see in my home of Colorado, which has it’s ties to Indigenous and Latin culture and can often be seen on murals and bandannas in the Southwest. It’s also found in Aztec culture and was popularized again in the nineties by the band Sublime which was also a popular tie to skate culture in California. I had Fat Old Sun by Pink Floyd stuck in my head and I kind of just went from there. The red bird, or rather the Vermillion bird is a mythical bird dating back centuries to China and other east Asian cultures, through Taoism. It’s one of the four divine creatures, and holds the position of the South. The Vermillion bird is also a symbol of fire and the guidance of souls to heaven and a celestial creature of great grace. As this is a mythical being though, It’s not as if there are any real photographs for a reference, so by stature and form and elegance I chose the Crowned-Crane, an African bird that had a similar structure and head. For the tail I just looked at historical records, statues, and ink drawings of the bird and used a male Peacock as the tails bare a similarity. The pink and yellow print was more of a mod-like lava lamp and sixties pattern. The sun area being like a cassette player and the font having a deco feel. The Vermillion bird is associated with summer and I felt that it’s presence flying downwards could represent the sun falling, and thus tied in with the Fat Old Sun lyrics, ‘ When that fat old sun in the sky is falling, summer evening birds are calling. Children's laughter in my ears, the last sunlight disappears.’. It may sound contradictory, but I wanted the design to almost feel like an old golden age snowboard. 

[lemonywitch]

Happy day, witches! I hope you are all staying positive during these troubled times. If you need someone to talk to, just know that you can talk to me. Send me a message here, or you can dm me on Instagram @lemonywitch anytime. These are lonely times for a lot of people, and I think everyone should have someone to talk to. I know we’d be total strangers to each other, but that’s ok for me. Please do be aware that this is not an invitation for any inappropriate messaging. You will be blocked without warning. Anything else is good. Just want you guys to keep that in mind.

Moving on, since we didn’t talk about candles last time, let’s talk about candles today! Don’t worry, this post should be shorter than last time. Or at least I’m gonna try...

The first thing that I want to talk about is candle colors. In your spells, different colors can mean different things, whether it’s a candle, a string, or the color of pen ink you use. Here’s a list of colors and what each one represents, along with some spell ideas:

Red 🍎: Love, passion, desire, energy, determination. Can be used if you want more love or intimacy in an already-existing relationship, or if you’re in need of some energy for a new project, or for determination to start your new business.

Pink 💖: Happiness, self love, self esteem, grace, compassion, tenderness, understanding. As you can see, pink is used in situations where you want to help yourself in areas of self love and self esteem, or in areas you want to improve, such as in happiness, grace, compassion, tenderness, and understanding of others. In other words, pink is for YOU, baby.

Orange 🍊: Strength, success, encouragement, attraction, joy, confidence. Orange is used for spells where you need some kind of extra boost for yourself. This could be helpful if, for instance, you need some extra courage and confidence to ask for that promotion at work.

Yellow 🌼: Happiness, success, eliminate obstacles, balance, creativity. Yellow is good for spells for more happiness, balance or creativity for yourself, or to help you succeed and eliminate the obstacles blocking you when working on a new project.

Green 🌱: Healing, growth, good luck, wealth, prosperity, fertility, new beginnings. Green is one of my favorites. Not only does it represent the earth and nature, but it’s so versatile. It can be used for healing in any aspect, personal growth, or, like a seed that’s been planted, new beginnings. It’s the color of money, so if you need some extra funds, green is the color to use. It’s also helpful if you are trying to conceive and want to cast a fertility spell for yourself or for someone else.

Blue 💧: Peace, tranquility, flexibility, meditation, balance, inner peace, calmness. This color is good more for spiritual applications. It can be used when you meditate, or if you’re trying to make peace with yourself, and sometimes if you need help making peace in your mind about something that involved another person. When I say flexibility, I mean the ability to “go with the flow, man.” As Bruce Lee said, “Be water, my friend.”

Purple 🔮: Power, wisdom, spirituality, psychic connection, intuition, dreams, enchantment. Historically, purple was used as a color that royals and high-ranking nobles wore to show their status. This color can be used if you wanted to give yourself more power. I don’t mean power over other people like royals, but power over yourself and to have a stronger will. It could be useful in just having the ability to say no to some people. Purple is kind of just a general “magical” color too. If you want to hone your skills and be able to learn more magics, you could cast something like a mind-opening spell, and you could use purple to help yourself get more in touch with your magical side and gain more abilities.

Gold ✨: Prosperity, wealth, abundance, enlightenment. As you can see, gold works in much of the same way green can, but it has an extra trait: Enlightenment. You can use gold to help you gain more spiritual insight to help you on your journey.

Silver 🖇: Illumination, reflects energy. Silver isn’t used much, but you can see it’s similar to a mirror. Silver can be used to send bad energy back to the person that sent it, and it can help you to reflect on your own life and decisions.

Black🕷: Banishment, binding, absorbing negative energies. Black doesn’t have as many uses as some other colors, but its uses can be extremely powerful. Black is used if you wanted to banish a person from your life, or if you wanted to bind your soul with someone else’s. I personally carry black crystals with me if I know I’m going somewhere or meeting someone that I my have a negative experience with, so I don’t carry those energies back home with me. You could enchant a black piece of clothing if you wanted or something similar.

White 🥚: Clarification, positive energies, healing. Opposite of black, white is for inviting positive energies. It can also be used for clarification of your mind, and healing of your spirit.

As you can see, some colors can cross over and have the same meanings as a different color, so in some cases, if you needed an extra boost, you can use two of these colors instead of just one.

But let’s say you need to perform a certain spell, but you either don’t have the color you need or you don’t know which color your situation is for. In that case, always use white. White is universal and can be used for any purpose. Sometimes colored candles are hard to find too, but white candles are usually sold just about anywhere.

But candles aren’t about just the colors. The shape of the flame can also be important. You can use this information during regular spells if you like, but reading your flame is mostly used during communication spells. Communication spells are when you try to get a message from an ancestor, your spirit guide or deity, the Universe, etc. Maybe you’re looking for guidance about a new job or relationship, for example. Here are some ways that flames can look and how you can read them:

Small but bright: Success is coming

Large and bright: Good luck

Dim: Disappointment in store

Leaning heavily to one side: Change is coming

Small flame that looks like it’s about to go out but it endures: Excellent luck (much better than just good luck), but could come with troubles or effort on your side. But it would work out in the end.

Sputtering: Romance is coming

Flickering: Depending on your questions or your situations, it could mean wavering fortune or luck, or that enemies are coming

Sparking: Danger is around or on its way

Twisting: Unseen enemies or danger is around you

No flame: No success is coming, but no bad things are coming either. Things are staying the same.

Sometimes we need to be careful about our flames. Sometimes if we’re in a room with an open window, or sitting close enough to the candle that your breath can reach it, it can make the flame act differently than it’s supposed to. So make sure you’re in a room or environment where there’s no air currents (this can include air conditioners as well) and make sure you’re sitting close enough to see the candle clearly, but not so close that your breath could affect the flame. Otherwise you could get a wrong reading.

There are differing opinions on how to let the flame of your candle die out when your spell is finished. Do whatever feels right to you, but there are pretty much 3 different ways you can do it.

This first method really only works if you’re using a jar candle or something similar, so this wouldn’t work with a taper candle. You would use a tool (an old kitchen knife works great for this) to dip the wick down into the melted wax to put out the flame. By doing this, it’s like the candle is putting itself out, so there was no “outside influence.” This outside influence is thought to affect the outcome of your work, so some people prefer to do it this way.

The second method is to just let the candle burn out by itself. Like the last method, some believe that by you or someone else extinguishing the flame at all is an outside influence, so you need to let the candle burn itself out. My opinion on this: If you have kids or pets, or just generally are busy most of the time, letting a candle burn out by itself isn’t always smart or safe. Sometimes we don’t have time to sit and wait for a candle to burn out, and leaving it unattended is just dumb. If you are able to do this, go for it. It’s just usually not very convenient for a lot of people.

The third way (and my preferred way) is the easiest. Just blow the candle out. Some people believe that by blowing out the flame, the smoke carries your wishes or intentions to whoever or whatever you intend it to, such as the Universe or your deity. This is also helpful because, like the first method, you can still save and use this candle for later.

On that note, what should we do with a candle that we’ve already used for a spell? Let’s say you burned a green candle for a prosperity spell, and you still have half of your taper candle left. If your spell doesn’t work, you can still use this candle if you need to do the spell again. The outcome of your spell is dependent upon your intentions, not the tools you use. If your spell works, great! But don’t use that candle for any other type of spell. If you used this candle for prosperity, only use it for prosperity or something related, such as for a new job. Because that would still fall under a “prosperity” umbrella. You wouldn’t t want to it for something like healing or fertility. One rule you need to follow is never, ever, EVER use a candle for another spell that you’ve used during a curse or banishment. Only use it for those same purposes if you have part of a candle leftover. If you happen to use a candle you previously used to curse someone for another spell, those energies could spill over into your new spell. Just a warning.

As always, please make sure that when burning candles, you do it safely. Make sure you’re in a controlled environment and that you burn your candles on heat- and/or flame- proof surfaces. Always monitor your candles so your kid or your cat won’t mess with it. I know this is common sense stuff, but sometimes people need extra reminders.

You can use candles in specific spells, but sometimes you can use just a candle for a spell. To use a candle for a spell is super easy. All you really need is a candle with the color of your choice, and either a knife of some sort or a pen that doesn’t have any ink left. The reason I say a pen with no ink is because some inks are flammable, so if you have a dead pen lying around, now’s the time to put it to use. If you use a knife, make sure you’re careful, and don’t cut yourself. Unless you just want to use your blood in a spell, and if you do, go for it. Just know that that’s on you. I do plan to do a separate post just for blood magic, so we’ll cover that later.

To use a candle for a spell, just carve the words you want to use for the spell into your candle using the tool of your choice. This can sometimes be difficult if you’re using a jar candle, but in that case you can use a sigil. Once you’ve finished carving, you can chant the words of your spell, light your candle, and continue to focus your intentions until your candle is burned out, or whenever you’re finished. I will tell you that you don’t have to carve up the whole candle, and that’s totally fine. But you want your candle to burn at least until your carving is gone. If you’re using a taper candle, let it burn down until all the carving have melted off. If you’re using a jar candle, burn the candle at least until the wax the carving was made into has completely melted and you can’t see any signs of your carving anymore.

When it comes to the kinds of candles you can use, the sky’s the limit! You can literally use whatever type of candle you want. It can be a jar candle or a taper candle, it can be scented or unscented, the only condition you need to worry about is if it’s the color you need. I wouldn’t use the flameless candles, but if you want to learn about that I’d be glad to research it and see what ideas we can come up with.

That’s all about candles that we’re going to talk about today. There are a lot of other spells you can do with candles, but this blog is like a beginner’s handbook. We will talk about dressing candles and other candle spells like the needle spells at a later time when we get most of the basics down. That being said, you can’t say you’ve completed the basics without learning about sigils! I mentioned using sigils to carve into your candles, but sigils can be used for almost anything. So next time we’ll talk about what a sigil is and why it’s important, how to make them, and how to apply them in everyday life. Until then, stay healthy and safe!

[eirian-houpe]

Lightly, Tender... My Dream

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Smut, First Time, A Monthly Rumbelling (Once Upon a Time), One Shot

Summary: Between realms, beyond curses, and through the passage of many lost years, Belle and Rumplestiltskin find one another again, and finally act upon their love.

Read on AO3

Notes: Came in right under the wire with this one. Written for the January A Monthly Rumbelling prompt 'Press Lightly' (Song)

Lightly, Tender… My Dream.

Rumplestiltskin wept…

He railed, fists gripping and shaking the bars, feeling the weakness that the magical nature of the cell induced in him, allowing himself the moment of frustration to wash over him; allowing himself a moment to indulge the madness - embrace it.

When was the last time he’d felt the ghost of a touch, her touch. His Belle - lost?

He stood at the window.  He hadn’t been up here in many years; many many years.  The room had been closed and gathering dust, not that he’d know it, not now.  His maid had left it spotless and a part of him was angered at that; frustrated. The reflection of all of his feelings had lain in that dust, and now, with it gone, he worried he’d forget, forget himself; the feelings of those small fingers slipping through his in the howling, mocking fury of the portal’s whorl. Its blue light was predominant and reminded him of the one behind it.

The door behind him opened and he watched the reflection of Belle pull up short - startled.

“Rumplestiltskin!  I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” she apologised hurriedly, but sincere. “I was just bringing up fresh linen.”

That he didn’t answer her seemed to spark concern, and she set down the linens from her arms, and came to him at the window.  Her hand brushed his as though to get his attention as she looked up at him. She called his name, her voice downy soft, and as distant as the reflection in the darkened window, distant, like the memory as he struggled to remember how to feel.

Her hand slipped, hesitantly, into his, her hand small - like Bae’s - and for a moment, just a precious moment, he squeezed tightly and he knew, no matter how clean the room, she would not allow him to forget.

Later, he remembered, he would look up at her as she perched on the table, asking to know him, asking about his son, touching him with the feeling again.

The memory faded into the darkness of his solitary cell, and he fell away from the bars; from their biting metal - Iron over hidden, running water, but mostly it was the iron… She was lost to him now, taken from him by her own hand after inhuman tortures at the hands of those that should care for her, should have loved her. Lost to death.  And Bae, still lost; lost to a world without magic, and after his Dark Curse was cast, he would be alone… again… with no one to share as he could have shared with Belle.

For a moment he embraced that pain of only having them to hold in his heart, and wondered aloud, “Who will hold me ?”

Then, with an insane chuckle, he permitted the Darkness to take hold again, loving it; loving himself as the Dark One, for all the power he’d had, and would have again,  He was patient. He would play the long game.

His fall, away from the bars, seemed endless, nothing to catch him, even when he hit the hard dirt floor. He snatched up the parchment from its hiding place, and the quill beside it, guarded by the rats and scurrying insects and reached for the precious, precious ink. His practiced hand writing a word, a name, over and over. Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma….

Belle turned away from the mirror, sobbing, feeling his pain.  She yearned to wrap her arms around him, hold him, comfort him, but locked in a cell of her own, with only the mirror for her own cold comfort, how could she reach him? But what would she have done had she made it back to the Dark Castle? Innocent in spite of her desires, reticent to touch… In spite of her desires, a stranger to touch.

Her breath caught, and her heart and stomach switched places as Rumplestiltskin squeezed her fingers as she hesitantly slipped her hand into his beside the window.  They have always been so ‘apart’ before, despite her yearning… despite the number of times she’d caught him watching her when he didn’t know she saw.

What would it be like, she wondered, to reach up with her free hand and try to soothe his obviously troubled brow; run her fingers through his hair and comb the tangles from the wildness of it?

In their reflection in the darkened window pane her gaze drifted to his mouth, his lips, and she felt the heat of a blush rise to color her cheeks.

“Isn’t there work you should be doing?” he snarked, though without the usual heat, and with an almost teasing spark in his eyes.  She murmured a hurried, apologetic response and began to move to leave; to turn away and head for the kitchen, but he did not release her hand, and she turned back, a worried query on her face, until he murmured softly, “Thank you, Belle.”

Later, she remembered, when she returned from town with the un-needed straw, she would come to know, at least a little, the answer to her question… almost at least… as she dared to kiss him and for the briefest of moments he returned her kiss.

The pang of hurt caught her hard, and low.  She would never know him now. He couldn’t come to rescue her, caught as he was in the cell that stole his magic; the Dark Curse that Queen Regina so often boasted of as she came to torment Belle almost upon them.

In sudden frustration she turned and beat her fists against the mirror, spreading spider-web cracks over it, and again, and again until it shattered, its magic throwing out the silvered glass toward her.  She raised her hands to protect her face, closing her eyes as a darkness, out of nowhere, swept over her.

Cold… Silence… She woke with a start from a dream that had been anything but.  There was a warmth, there was a man; a strange man with green and golden scaled skin and she knew she loved him from the way she cried out at his touch… nothing real.  All imagined, so the doctors said as they pressed needles into her arms to speed her to oblivion.

She opened her eyes again. How long had passed?  She didn’t know, but she remembered a mirror; breaking the mirror.  It felt like more than just seven years bad luck.

The door opened and expecting it would be the nurse, come to either medicate or feed her - the only time she ever saw anyone in this place, otherwise left alone, forgotten… lost and not found. She curled up into a ball in the corner of the cell.

“Come with me.”

The voice was male, and strong with promise, and she looked up - did she know this man? Did it matter, when he offered her freedom… hope?

“Sweetheart… I promise.”

He never thought he’d ever speak that word to her; thought her lost to him, long since dust beneath the soil of Avonlea, so many miles away he couldn’t even mourn her, yet here she was, in his arms.  He would give her the world, a simple promise not to kill Regina for all the hurt and heartache she had brought them both was nothing - a simple breath.

Their lips met, and she melted against him. Decades of separation and loss building in the kiss.  He wanted more, needed more… needed her. She said she loved him, and the gods knew he loved her, and he wanted, so much, to show her. Her lips parted to his kiss, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, their tongues tangling together like the threads of their lives.

Then together, though it would have been barely a thought, a moment to apport them both back to the shop, they walked hand in hand through the woods, and back to town.  She looked so frail to him, not the vibrant, light filled wonder that she’d been back at the Dark Castle, before he’d foolishly given in to his rage and fear and sent her away.

Couldn’t he have trusted her, even then?  What would she have done if she had understood why he couldn’t allow her to break his curse and made of him an ordinary man? Should he tell her? Could he tell her now?

Long hours of walking, of trying to make sense of her heart had led her to one single place, every thought, every objection, every aching beat of her heart had brought her back to Rumple.  She loved him… and gods help her she wanted him - all of him - even the parts that belonged to the darkness. She wanted to surrender her love and to her love; to give him everything she was.  No more separation, never again.

So she went back, and when he tried to send her away - far more gently than the last time - she refused.

“You must leave because, despite what you hope, I’m still a monster,” he said, his face a sorrowing, serious mask.

She smiled, and gently gripped his shoulders as she said, “Don’t you see? That’s exactly the reason I have to stay.”

She kissed him then, tightening her arms around his shoulders, afraid to let him go.  There was a moment - just a moment - when she feared he’d put her away again, but it passed as his resolve seemed to melt away with the kiss.

“Take me home,” she murmured against his lips as she pulled away from the kiss for breath, only to begin another, moaning softly with a need she hoped he’d understand. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer yet, to press lightly to the whole of her, breaking the kiss to whisper against her cheek.

“I could never deny you, my Belle.” His breath was hot against the sudden cold in the swirl of his magic. “Not any more.”

The haze of purple faded and she found herself in a dimly lit bedroom, the only light from the street lamps outside, and even that disappeared as he moved to close the heavy gold and deep red curtains. The drapes matched the bed, she noted, as he flicked on the lamps, then returned to her arms, to draw her to him as she shivered involuntarily.

“Are you…?” he asked softly, nuzzling her softly before pressing his forehead to hers. “Are you certain, Belle?”

“You said it was forever,” she whispered, and felt him pull back, pull away, though his hands tenderly cupped her cheeks to bring her eyes to him.

“Sweetheart, I have long since released you from our deal,” he murmured. His voice kindness, but a hint of sorrow and regret still remained.

“Don’t you…?” she swallowed, interrupting herself, “Don’t you want me?”

“Oh, Belle,” pressed his nose to hers as the breath escaped him, as if she had just sucker punched him with the question.  Then she felt his lips begin to feather over her, over her lips and her neck as he tipped her head back still further, between the light press of his mouth against her suddenly oversensitive skin he murmured, “I have never wanted anything more than to show you how much you mean to me… how much I want you.”

She moaned softly, beginning to run her hands over his back, exploring his form through the thin silk of his shirt.  She felt him shiver at her touch as he took a deep breath between kisses, and she couldn’t help but wonder what was in his mind, in his thoughts.  

“I won’t rush you, Belle,” he told her softly.

“But I want you, Rumple,” she answered. “We have already been apart for far too long.”

He whispered, “My fault,” before capturing her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss that turned from the slow, sweet kiss of reunion to one of deep passion and desire as their need for each other increased.  His fingers trailed down her back as he lowered the zipper of her dress, and she fumbled with the knot of his tie, the buttons of his shirt as they began, between kisses, to divest themselves and each other of the clothing that frustrated her need to feel his skin against hers.

As though completely attuned, they moved together, each now clothed only in their underwear, to curl around each other on the bed, breathing together, Thoughts and memories washing over them, like a tide, washing away the many years of separation, cleansing them of the lies.

She trembled against him as his fingers explored her sensitive skin, in part from anticipation, and the unfamiliar, and in part with growing need. Her own fingers began a sweet but lazy journey over his shoulders, over his chest, feeling him harden against her hip, and a growing, swollen, tingling ache flared with each touch and each kiss that fell over her body, bathing her in his love for her.

“Rumple!” she gasped, pressing her head back against the pillows, her legs parting to admit his touch against her hot, wet heat, then moaned softly as his touch teased, circling in her wetness, never quite against the place she most needed his touch. “Please…”

“My Belle…” he murmured, rising over her, only to begin kissing downward, over the curves of her breasts, lingering there to to share a maddening feast of sensation and pleasure as his lips, and teeth and tongue worshiped there, tugging her nipples one by one into the hot cave of his mouth until she gave a soft cry and clasped his shoulders, repeating her needful pleas.

Rumple felt as though he had a fever, his need to be one with Belle almost overwhelming; a sweet kind of madness that he welcomed, and desired to share with his love - a madness of pleasure.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as he pleasured her breasts, his fingers teasing where his lips could not.  He looked up at her flushed face, his expression softening with love around the hard edges of his desire for her.

She was so beautiful, shining with her inner light again, warming him, reminding him of life, of a time without the darkness; that he was so undeserved.

“Rumple,” she whispered his name as though she could tell, just by his expression, what he was thinking. “...Love me…”

Her voice was soft, deep and husky with his need, and it shot right to his loins, strengthening the ache, making him pulse for her, his risen length twitching against the covers. He kissed lower, down from her breasts, over the flatness of her belly, the bottom of her ribs far too visible as she arched her back. He kissed still further, nuzzling at her with his chin before pressing his mouth to her, his tongue parting her, teasing as his fingers had, her answering cry like music to him.

Her taste was salt and sweet, both together… like the finest honeyed wine, and he moaned against her center, lapping at her wetness, as he slipped one long finger carefully inside her, moaning again as her soft and trembling heat clenched around his touch, pressing only as far as her body would allow before withdrawing again, stroking in and out with first one, and then a second finger until she began to move with him, chase the touch; soft cries escaping her lips as he drew her closer and closer, feeling her already tight walls tighten still further around his fingers.

He closed his lips around the risen nub between her soft folds and suckled between the swirling pass of his tongue, more fervently the closer he sensed she became, until a last her breathless moans became a keening cry and he felt her body clenching, a frantic flutter around his fingers.

He continued to stroke her gently, drinking her down and moaning his own pleasure at the sweetness of her, riding easing her down, until her languid body in the wake of her climax began to coil again in perceptible tension under his touch, and her breathing became ragged, her voice a moan again.

“I want… I need…” she gasped, and he raised his head, releasing her from the touch of his mouth but not from the ever moving glide of his fingers.

“What, sweetheart?” he rumbled softly, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” she gasped. “...inside me… not holding back.”

He moaned again at her words, moving at her request to cover her and take her in his arms, and he felt her legs fall, then rise to either side of him as she encouraged… invited him on, and he took a moment to adjust himself against her; to coat himself in the juices soaking her, before pressing the blunt head of his risen desire at her entrance.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed, barely moving, barely entering her, the head of him surrounded by her heat, her walls tight around him, still trembling, slightly, in the aftermath of her peak.  For all his words he wanted just to sink inside of her, deep inside; needed for her to take him, all of him and make him hers. To be separate any more was a pain deeper than the darkest of curses.

“Take me, Rumple,” she echoed his needs.  “Make me yours.”

They moved as one.  As he rolled his hips against her, she lifted to meet him, and they came together, one at last, both home.  She gasped, a sharp, almost shrill cry as he claimed her innocence, and his kissed away the wetness of the tear that rolled onto her cheek, spilling his own in its place, but she reached up to wipe away his shame, then wrapped him in her arms and held him tightly to her, murmuring and whispering of her love. His name sounded like a prayer on her lips.

“Oh, Belle,” he breathed as they began to move again, like the ocean, rising and falling to each other… tides of love, their desire the moon, its light winding them together, binding them, blinding them as they drew closer and closer to that point of brightness, their bodies now only sensation, only desire, only pleasure.

He moved faster, plunging into her even as she lifted her hips to meet the descent of each possession; possessing him until he felt her trembling again, her inner wall squeezing him so tightly it was almost pain, a pleasurable pain.

She cried his name as she burst around him, trembling and squeezing him over and over as her climax pulled him with her into that bright space and he emptied himself inside of her, pulsing to fill her with the heat of his life; to the beat of his heart.  They fell back to each other, back to awareness. Spent. Home…

...and Rumple wept.

[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Four

Summary: Luigi and Peasley are faced with yet another challenge. 

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

Luigi woke with a start.

His heavy eyes twitched, a yawn escaping him as he sat up. He groaned, gaze flickering as he glanced around, examining his surroundings. He was still in his bedroom, the window slightly ajar as a draft of early morning breeze ruffled the dark green curtains. Beams of sunlight coated the master bedroom's floor, covering the room in a warm sepia tone. It was particularly silent, bare of activity and life.

With a sigh, Luigi cuddled up in his covers, exhaling.

Luigi felt the bedspread sinking as Polterpup woke alongside him. He flinched as the spectral pup soon pressed his paws onto his owner's cheeks, licking him across the face. Luigi sputtered, chuckling as Polterpup yipped.

”Shhh…! Quiet, doggy!” Luigi hushed as Polterpup snuck into his arms, his round eyes staring up at Luigi’s. Luigi ran a hand over Polterpup’s back as he sat up and glanced toward the other end of the bed.

Lying on the edge of the bed was Peasley, who’d apparently dozed off sometime during the night. He was in a half slumped-over position, his back uncomfortably situated across the end of the bed.

Smiling, Luigi stood up and out of bed, moving toward Peasley. He pushed him gently into a more comfortable sleeping position, lying his head down on a pillow. He kissed his husband's forehead, covering the rest of his body with a blanket.

Luigi stretched before unlocking and opening the bedroom door, exiting the room to make his way downstairs. Polterpup followed close behind at his heels, panting.

Luigi’s steps dragged as he made his way into the kitchen. He passed by the living room, trying his best to block the area out of his vision, quickening his pace as he went.

He had tried his very hardest, all throughout the night, to convince himself this was all some awful dream. That what he had seen was a nightmare. It couldn’t possibly be real. It couldn’t! It was all just part of a bad nightmare he had.

Sighing, he entered the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. Flipping the coffee machine on with a sigh, Luigi reached to the cupboards to grab a cup. The machine whirred to life as he set his mug down upon it, waiting anxiously. He drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter, glancing around his shoulder and all around the kitchen every so often.

Luigi yelped instinctively as the coffee machine beeped to gain his attention. He lifted a hand to his chest, laughing nervously before reaching forward with trembling fingers. He picked up the cup, beginning to sip the warm beverage. He kept his shoulders hunched.

Polterpup whined at Luigi’s feet, rubbing against his legs. Luigi bent down to pet the ghostly dog before moving to the counter, reaching for a golden bone from a jar. ”Here you go, doggy…” Luigi smiled as Polterpup immediately perked up and yipped. Luigi chuckled. “Fetch!”

The bone was tossed to the other side of the kitchen, Polterpup bolting off to catch it out of the air. He nibbled on the bone, gnawing on it as Luigi watched with an applauding smile.

He moved forward, but stopped, catching a glance at the wastebasket lying in the kitchen. Torn apart and lying atop shredded parchment and cardboard, was the cassette tape. The same one that contained the nightmare Luigi had been trying to push away.

Reality hit him, the pain of it all hurtling harshly into his chest as he stared down at the cassette. His gaze quivered.

”When did you wake up?”

Luigi screamed at the sound of a sudden voice, feeling his stomach drop as he whipped around defensively. He felt his nerves subside when he realized who was addressing him, Peasley standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His hair was messy and he looked like a wreck, to put it lightly.

”Ah, I’m sorry! Did I frighten you?” Peasley inquired, trying to keep his tone gentle.

”N-No!” Luigi exclaimed, holding his hands up. “No, I’m… I’m okey-dokey. I’ve been up for a little while…”

Peasley nodded slowly, moving into the kitchen. He sighed, running both of his hands through his hair. “Darling, I…”

”Did you watch it?” Luigi blurted out, curiosity getting the better of him. He paused immediately after the question sounded, throwing his hands over his mouth.

Peasley was silent for a moment.

“...Yes. I…” Peasley gently kicked the wastebasket with his foot. “I… I got rid of it.”

Luigi nodded understandably, taking a shaky breath before making a sound of acknowledgement.

”Who is that man?” Peasley questioned abruptly. “Why does he claim to know you?”

”...W-What?”

”He said… he said something about how you should know who he is. Do you have any idea who he might be?”

”Nh… no.” Luigi murmured, burying his face in his hands tiredly. “I… I don’t know who would ever do this…”

”So, you don’t know anyone who looks like that? Wearing a broken mask and all?”

Luigi froze, stiffening. He could have sworn he felt his heart stop.

"W… What?” Luigi whispered out. He hated to think back to the contents of the tape, but he tried to remember what the figure looked like. ”I don’t… I didn’t see any mask… I-I would have remembered that…”

Luigi’s mind began to wander. If Peasley was being truthful, then…

Then…

No! It couldn’t be. He was dead! He was gone. He couldn’t be…! He couldn’t be…

Peasley nodded, lifting a finger to his chin. He perked his head up after a moment of contemplation, rising to go run over to the counter. He dug through the drawers lining the countertop, withdrawing a piece of parchment and ink.

”Here… if my memory is of any use, I’ll be able to sketch what I saw for you.” Peasley explained, trying to maintain a steady hand as he started to draw out a face. “He was wearing tattered fraying clothing, rather distasteful, but fitting for a man of his nature.”

Peasley began to draw a roughly geometric shape, drawing a line down the middle and shading one side of it.

”His face was the most striking feature. I believe it was a mask he was wearing… it looked reflective and porcelain, but it DID move and react to his emotions. It was, truthfully, rather creepy to look at... And the mask was split in color, right down the middle. One side was black, one side was white, and there was one yellow eye…”

Luigi’s body went numb.

There was a startling SMASH as his coffee cup hit the ground, shattering into pieces as it slipped from his grasp.

”...Luigi?!” Peasley exclaimed, stepping back instinctively to avoid cutting his skin on the shards. “Wh… What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?!”

”N… No… he can’t...” Luigi mumbled, not moving. His face was pale. His gaze trembled. “No, he’s dead… that… n-no, that c-can’t be right…!”

”Who is?!” Peasley tried to maintain his composure, but felt his tone heighten as he almost screamed at his panicking husband. “Luigi, please-!”

”He…” Luigi dissolved into sobs, crouching down on the floor as he cried out harshly, covering his head with trembling hands. “Mario promised me… he said he was dead… h-he said he’d never be able to hurt m-me ever a-again…!”

”Who? Who hurt you?” Peasley cried out, trying to level his gaze with Luigi’s.

”Oh, dear Grambi… he’s… he’s going to k-kill me!” Luigi shrieked, guttural sobs tearing past his lips as he wept. “He’s going to k-kill everyone!”

”Luigi, please, get a hold of yourself!” Peasley tried to shout over Luigi’s panicked cries, grabbing his shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, I promise…!”

”NO! You d-don’t know him, you don’t know what he d-did, you don’t know w-what he can d-do!” Luigi screamed defensively, trying to tear away from Peasley’s grasp.

Peasley released Luigi and scooted back, trying to give him enough space. ”L-Luigi… please, I’m… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Peasley admitted. “I-If Mario knows, t-then let’s go get him. Maybe he can help us…”

Luigi wanted to retort, wanting nothing more than to just cry and scream at the prospect of his past tormentor returning to ruin his life and steal away everything he loved and cared about. But, he paused, holding his tongue as he thought back to everything that had happened.

He needed help. Mario… Peach… and even Bowser… they had saved him and stopped the deranged jester for good. Maybe they could help him again. Maybe they could put an end to this nightmare.

After a moment of hesitation, Luigi nodded, Peasley extending a hand to assist Luigi in standing. Luigi took his hand, getting up slowly despite the numbness of his legs. He could barely feel.

”Are you up for going to see Mario? I could always go on my own if you’re not feeling able.” Peasley inquired. “Your brother is quite the hero after all, I’m sure he’ll be able to help us in some way.”

Meekly, Luigi nodded his head, hiding behind the shade of his hair. “We can go see the Princess too… she… s-she knows about him…”

Peasley blinked before nodding, trying to comprehend all of the confusion at the moment. “Let us embark then.”

Peasley glanced back at Luigi, who was hugging his sides as he stood still, trembling in the kitchen. He sniffled, glancing up to stare at Peasley, who grabbed his hand comfortingly.

”I promise you, Luigi, I’ll protect you from whoever this deranged murderer might be. If you aren’t ready to tell me who they are, or how they know you… that’s quite alright. Just so long as I can keep you safe.” Peasley opened the front door to the manor, stepping out onto the porch with Luigi following behind.

He paused, however, as his feet immediately ran into something lying outside the door. Eyes widening, their gaze fell upon yet another package lying out on the front porch. 

It was wrapped in a purple bow this time, still packaged without a tag to identify who’d sent it.

Peasley's face flushed, reaching down to pick up the box. Luigi had already retreated back inside with a subdued whimper, Peasley following after him hastily.

”Luigi-!”

”I don’t want…” Luigi whimpered into his hands, trying to hold back tears. “He… he… he’s going to...”

”Luigi, please, calm down!”

Luigi shook his head, running into the living room to avoid facing the truth of reality. He was terrified. He didn’t want to go outside. He didn’t want to stay inside either. He felt trapped in the world, and there was no way to escape.

Peasley stood alone in the foyer, shutting the front door with a gentle heave. He locked the door before he moved to the kitchen, sitting down and tearing the bow off of the box.

He opened the package hesitantly, revealing two cassette tapes, as well as a note taped to one. He lifted the note with delicate fingers, reading over it.

’It wasn’t very polite of you to destroy the first. You should be grateful for the gifts you receive, you know.’ A crude scribble of a smiling face accompanied the words, the note signed with only a purple star symbol.

Peasley reached into the box, removing a tape labelled with the number one, identical to the one he’d destroyed the evening prior. He shifted his gaze before lifting up the other tape as well, labelled with the number two.

A sense of dread filled his chest. If what the stranger had said at the end of the first tape was any indication… He feared the absolute worst.

He set the tape he’d already seen back down into the box with shaky hands, holding the cassette labelled 'two' in his hand. He looked it over before moving to the living room, Luigi flinching as Peasley entered.

Peasley hesitated before whispering out, emotion missing from his tone. “He left another one.”

Through hazy eyes, clouded with tears, Luigi glanced up.

Without thinking clearly, Luigi pointed to the television with a trembling finger. He wanted an explanation. He had to watch it to figure out what was happening. If it meant he could have a better chance at avenging his friend, he had to.

Peasley nodded, understanding what Luigi meant as he went to put the tape into the player. He pressed play on the rickety machine, retreating back to sit with Luigi on the couch, holding him close.

The video flickered to life, revealing a figure hunched over, head lowered. Past the static overlay of the recording, it showed the figure held up against a wooden board of some sorts, shackled at their wrists and ankles. They didn't move, presumably unconscious.

As minutes passed in the video, the small figure eventually came to, lifting their head. As soon as they sat up, they inhaled, releasing a panicked gasp and cry.

”I-It’s...” Luigi whimpered out upon recognizing her shriek and voice. “It’s Toadette… He... He took both of them…”

Peasley tried to shush him comfortingly, rubbing at his shoulders as he held Luigi close.

Moments passed in the recording before there was any sign of activity, a voice ringing out obnoxiously. 

"Ah! My assistant finally decides to join me, like a fairytale princess awakening from a deadly coma!”

”Who are you?!” Toadette’s voice shouted back against the darkness of the room. She sounded almost defiant, yet her voice trembled. “What’s going on?”

”Why, I’m the pleaser of crowds and the master of dimensions, but that doesn’t concern you, my dear!” His magnificently macabre tone cackled, jubilant. “What concerns you is the show we’re putting on tonight!”

Toadette struggled against her bonds, lifting her chest and writhing. She got splinters pushing herself against the wood. “What are you talking about, weirdo?”

He finally walked into view, his back turned to the screen as he lifted a knife in his black gloved hand. 

"Tonight, we are going to be playing a game that involves your utmost participation. A little experiment, if you will.”

Without warning, he threw his arm back, flinging the knife forward. The blade whizzed past Toadette’s head, just barely missing, hitting the wooden board behind her. Toadette stiffened.

”It’ll be a game testing your strength and endurance.” The attacker laughed, garbled giggling cutting in between his words. “I’ll be putting you through a few trials.” 

He laughed.

”The only rule here is that you cannot scream.”

Another knife was thrown, zipping past Toadette’s head, grazing her face as it passed. She moved to yell in pain, but held her tongue. Her cheeks went red, gaze shifting as she nodded understandingly.

”Good. You comprehend my instruction.” With a wave of his hand, a flurry of weak sparks appeared on his fingertips for a moment. He walked toward Toadette, smirking. “Pass this test, dear assistant, and you’ll have a chance to escape here alive.”

Toadette flinched at that prospect.

The attacker reached forward, hands on the wooden board Toadette was strapped to. He gripped one edge, heaving, before spinning it hard. 

She kept herself from squealing out, the dizzying spinning of the moving wheel making her sick. The killer stepped back once she was in that spinning motion, aiming yet another blade toward the small toad girl.

With each knife that was sent hurtling toward Toadette, she kept her lips pursed and her eyes shut, hoping this would all be over soon. The wheel of death just kept spinning, the motion making the toad girl lose track of where she was. 

Many minutes passed of knives being thrown at her face and body, some slicing her arms. One was even flung directly into her forearm, tearing past the flesh and sticking out of her limb. She felt harsh tears slipping past her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare scream. She endured the pain, determined to escape alive. 

Eventually the attacker stopped, straightening his back and stepping back into the darkness with a low chuckle. 

It was miraculous, but Toadette wasn’t too badly injured. The wheel stopped it's motions, leaving Toadette to breathe momentarily. She felt so sick.

”Well, congratulations to you, my dear assistant! You’ve passed my trial.” There was a shuffling sound.

A desperate smile cracked on Toadette’s face, a sigh of relief escaping her.

”Allow me to reward you with a gift…!”

The video recording distorted for a moment.

Tossed into view from offscreen, a darkened mass rolled toward Toadette’s feet. She stared down from her raised position.

Tears formed in her eyes, the sound of sniffling and hushed sobs heard over the glitched audio recording. She breathed heavily, lines of hot tears streaming down her face as her blank expression went pale, her dull gaze shrouded in shadow.

She couldn't believe what she was looking at.

She was staring at the mutilated face of her dead brother.

She didn’t even realize she had released a blood-curdling scream, shrieking and sobbing her brother’s name into the darkness of the room.

The audio recording distorted again, the image flickering to complete black for a moment. In the pitch darkness, the only sound in the audio was harsh sobbing, before it abruptly stopped.

A choked sob gurgled before everything went to complete silence.

”Just like the last assistant… Such a pathetic display…”

When the video recording returned, it revealed a camera shot of Toadette, pinned against the wheel with a knife lodged directly between her eyes. It had sliced through her entire skull. Her eyes were dull, gaze glossed over as blood trickled down her face in streams, mixing with drying tears.

The murdered laughed at the display, now moving the camera with a slight shuffling sound.

”And that brings our show to its end… I must apologize for how short-lived this performance was…” He spoke sadly, disappointed. ”But, fear not! The next one will be quite the show-stopper! It’ll be the perfect display of one’s determination to live, testing all knowledge and wits against the impending threat of death!”

Without warning, a masked face appeared in the view of the camera, one yellow iris gazing straight toward his viewers beyond.

”Thank you for tuning in, my dearest audience members. Until we meet again...”

Luigi could now clearly see, despite the low recording and darkness, the yellow and violet pattern of his tattered clothing. And his face… that mask… 

It was all too familiar. The memories made him shiver. It was too awful.

”Ciao!”

All of Luigi’s fears were confirmed at once.

This wasn’t a lie. This wasn’t fiction. This wasn’t a nightmare.

This was real.

Dimentio was alive.

[charismastaticarchive]

@halycondaze​ [ edelgard + dedue ( andromeda & perseus ) ] sun on third degree burns; i’ll stand in the shade of your shadow & feel only & just... perfectly warm.

Dedue shakes and retches near constantly, and he cannot tell if it is because he is sick and feverish from the harsh conditions of the castle dungeons---or if his skin has been burned by the fires so deeply he will always be hot to the touch. He was ripped away from his family, the only survivor, lungs filled with ash and smoke and the smell of burning flesh---and the sight, the smell, the taste on his tongue---still hangs heavy and dry in his throat like he’s choking on charred meat he cannot swallow. The blond, soft boy had saved him, the cherub on a white horse, the golden embers of the fire swirling around its hooves, like a halo, as the boy lifted Dedue on to its back.

And yet they had taken even Dedue’s savior away. Ripped him from his arms, into chains and cuffs, pulled him there on broken, bare feet covered in soot from the fires. They watched with greedy, ugly eyes, the same color as his people’s---blue, and pale, but so much more sinister and wanting. People threw things at him---anything that was in their hands, ink and papers, children’s toys, wooden swords, rotten fruit. Noblewomen laughed in high pitched voices, the same howling sound he imagined belonged to the animals of the furs they wore on their backs. He still remembers their pearls and gold and feathered hats and red, lecherous lips pulled taut against their gums.

He was alone now, deep within the Castle’s prisons, with nothing but his own bile and the black bars of his cell for company. No one came to feed him---or to tend to his wounds. There was no distraction from his loss here. He could’ve well been driven mad by the lack of company---the rats at his feet, the pain of his own burns, the taste in his mouth & smell of his own waste.

The children who appeared before him were nothing like angels. Their faces were outlined with dark ridges---pale, hollow eyes with bags that sunk into their skulls, fists clenched into so many layers of cloak and skirt. And yet the ground glowed beneath their feet with a halo of purple magic.

Dedue will never forget the face of the girl---so small, so skinny, like a fragile porcelain doll that might break at any moment---as she reached out, slipped her hand around the bars. She did not look at him with pity, or sadness, even with the tears still dried on his lips, mucus and pus drained on every inch of his charred clothing, burns apparent.

She looked at him with righteous fury. Not at those of Duscur---like the soldiers. But for him.

Her voice is small&young. A little girl’s, despite all her determination, her quest for justice.

“Come with us.” She said. Not an order, but a plea. Her grip on the axe in her other hand tightens. It is too big for her, too heavy, he would think. Yet she holds it as if it is second nature.

He looked at his feet, blistered and bruised and dirtied. Whoever this girl was---in all her finery, her long, pale brown hair, & all her clear power---she was giving him a choice.

In the darkness, she reached out her hand.

And he blinked in bewilderment, almost laughed---and took it without another word.

That felt like a long time ago, but it was in fact only a year. In that time, Dedue’s scars had healed up rather nicely, though the memories and trauma would last forever. Edelgard tried her best to understand. And she did not push him. 

**He would come to find that the younger girl was incredibly intelligent---bright and spirited for only six (at the time. She would ‘share’ her birthday party for him, so he could get half of the gifts). She was a prodigy that loved politics---and she had heard of the Tragedy of Duscur, and the boy her very own age who had been pulled from the fires and was to be put on public trial---and she had begged her Father to help him, in a time where her Father was still one of the four most powerful people in all of Fodlan. It would turn out the madness had made the days seem shorter than they were. He had been in the dungeons without food or water for a full three weeks. Dedue was lucky to be alive&might have been only from the shock---and it would take him time to heal. 

**Almost everyday for the past ten months, Edelgard would race to Dedue’s door to play with Dedue in the Imperial Garden Maze. They were beautiful---so many flowers that Dedue had never seen or even heard of. He had always known that the Empire had more of a rich climate and thus more expansive fauna than Duscur’s neighbors, The Kingdom---but seeing it in person almost made him forget that his whole world was gone.

She would ask him, if he wanted to talk. And he would talk, of course, regardless of his own desire to, about, at the very least, the flowers. He told her of the Duscur flowers---how important they were to their culture, and their way of life. How they named every flower they grew for ceremonial purposes, and prayed to it, and thanked it after it was cut. 

Over time, and partially by Edelgard’s insistence towards the castle staff, she would find Dedue in the gardens all alone. They would talk, and talk, and talk, about Duscur---and Fodlan, and the world. They would play together often--like the children they really were, Dedue having to scrub out the dirt in her dresses to keep from them getting in trouble. Sometimes she even succeeded in making the usually emotionless Dedue laugh, a deep, rumbling thing that matched his old soul. Over time, he would begin to smile every time he made her smile. And that was its own kind of happiness, dependent but sure&strong.

Slowly Dedue named every flower, and then planted his own, his own little place in Edelgard’s world. And slowly but surely, he came to believe that Edelgard would not let his own world, of Duscur, wither away so easily.

One day, some day a long time from now, when they are older&wiser&too close to bear, Edelgard will show Dedue her own scars, and Dedue will bare his own with pride instead of shame---marked by the strong muscles he’s grown, his impressive height, his beautiful skin, clean and warm. Dedue will kiss each of her scars, one by one, tracing his mouth along each deep line and deep prick; and she will gasp; and cover her mouth to stop from screaming by burying her own lips against his own; stop from flinching by pulling him tight against her; body against body---flush.

**But now they are still so young, Edelgard only on the cusp of seven, and she has something very important to tell him that could change everything, her face not the usual silly one it becomes sometimes when she sees a frog or worm nestled in the dirt.

Dedue peeks up from the flowers---surrounded by a large maze of green hedges and statues of Saints and serpents alike. He likes this spot best, the greenhouse with its steam-covered walls, sun reflecting through the mist, where he’s gotten to work trimming the rosebush he planted earlier this year. His clothes are of of the Empire---a handsome, tailored suit as a kind of everyday-uniform, at Edelgard’s request from her Father. But he wears an apron over top so as not to get it dirty. He considers the question and his shears carefully, as he continues to clip away at the hedges.

***“Of course,” Dedue’s voice is a quiet, higher echo of what it will one day become. He does not have the vocabulary to express all the right words, too young, not yet as fluent in Common as he would like. Still, he speaks with formality, honor. “I definitely want to be your shield, Princess. But I already asked to be your Knight a long time ago. And you didn’t say anything...”

[goldfishbymatisse]

purple.

Own Knowledge:

Purple is a secondary colour as it is a result of mixing the primary colours blue and red. 

I have a personal connection to the colour purple because I have a vitamin deficiency which causes bruising on my legs excessively. 

I currently have over 30 bruises on my legs. 

An influential novel in my adolescence is The Color Purple by Alice Walker. 

I was raised by a Catholic mother and observed in the masses that the priest’s robes worn during the Advent and Lent seasons, purple reflects sorrow and suffering.

The colour also came to symbolise wealth, power and royalty because in antiquity purple dye was very expensive.

Depending on your spiritual beliefs you make think the next sentence is phoney. A ‘spirit guide’ once observed that my aura was lilac (a purple tint). 

My birthstone is an amethyst which is a precious stone consisting of a violet or purple variety of quartz.

When I was growing up I had a really big lavender bush that my family used for restlessness, insomnia, headache and pain as well as for  flavour in food. 

Purple ink dissolved in water was hosed onto protesters, during apartheid, to locate them once the crowds dispersed.  In the English language, the word "purple" has only one perfect rhyme, curple.

Purple Idioms:

Purple prose – writing that is more complicated and formal than necessary.

Born to the purple – Someone who is born to the purple is born in a royal or aristocratic family.

Purple State - In U.S. general elections, a state that votes in roughly equal proportion for candidates of both the Democratic and Republican Parties. Primarily heard in US.

Purple Patch - A section of writing that is showy and extravagant and often stands out in contrast to the rest of the writing in a piece.

Purple Kush - a strain of marijuana

Shrinking violet - A negative term for a very shy person. Purple squirrel - a term used by employment recruiters to describe a job candidate with precisely the right education, experience, and qualifications that perfectly fits a job’s multifaceted requirements. The assumption is that the perfect candidate is as rare as a real-life purple squirrel.

Purple in Nature:

Dwarf Iris

Amethyst Starling

Book Recommendations:

“In the colour spectrum this linear sweep of colour is bent and joined at the ends so that the shortest and the longest wavelengths overlap and form purple.” (The Luminous and the Grey by David Batchelor) “Purple gives way to blue. The blue gives way to purple.”   “A mere two days after his arrival in New Guinea in 1914 he could write in his diary: ‘Felt not too distinctly or strongly but surely that a bond was growing up between myself and this landscape . . . the purple glow in the west penetrated the palm grove and covered the scorched grass with its blaze, slithering over the dark sapphire waters.’” “... amid the turquoise vegetation, you see rich purple stones overgrown with weeds.” “Fires had been started in a few places. Marvellous spectacle. Red, sometimes purple flames had crawled up the hillside in narrow ribbons; through the dark blue or sapphire smoke the hillside changes colour like a black opal under the glint of its polished surface.” “...while indigo, so hugely important a commodity for some two thousand years, this blue that is also black and purple, became the colour that supplanted colour when, beginning in the fourteenth century, the aristocracy (male and female) used indigo to have their clothes dyed deep black in a widespread process of European discoloration in both Catholic and Protestant countries.” “ The beauty of old Indian ‘painted calicoes’ lies first of all in their colour, which is the first thing to strike the eye. Lovely rich tones of rose, from full crimson to delicate shell pink, purple fading to palest lilac... “ (What Color Is the Sacred? by Michael Taussig) “‘Purple’ is defined in the new Oxford Dictionary as ‘a colour intermediate between red and blue’. Blue is defined as ‘a colour intermediate between green and violet’ and violet is ‘a bluish-purple colour’.” “alpenglow - The purple gleam on alpine snow” “amaranth -The reddish-purple or deep crimson colour of the leaves of the Amarantus. The words amarantin, amarantine and amaranthine, signifying ‘fadeless’, ‘immortal’ or ‘unwithering’, refer to Pliny’s imaginary and never fading amaranth flower. Also a purple food additive (E123). “   “amethyst- Violet-purple or purplish-blue (particularly in heraldry); from the Greek meaning ‘preventing intoxication’ a characteristic once ascribed to the stone of the same name.“

“anthocyanin(e) or anthocyan - A group of pigments providing a large range of colours in flowers, plants and fruits including blues, purples, violets, maroons, reds and pinks – producing red when acid; blue when alkaline and violet when neutral. Anthocyanin is the name given to one of the E numbered red, violet or blue food additives (E163). “ “argaman - An ancient purple dye made from the shellfish murex trunculus referred to in Judges viii:26 and rediscovered in 1998.”   “blatta - Purple; also the name for silk dyed purple.“ “cudbear - A natural red, violet, purple or brown dye made from fermented lichens.”   “depurpleise; to- To bowdlerise text in order, for example, to rid it of steamy sex scenes and over-sentimental expressions. “ “natural order of colour -The colours placed in order of their lightness of tone from yellow (the nearest to white) through orange, red, purple, blue, green and violet (the nearest to black). “ “ porphyrophobia - Fear of the colour purple. “ “ purple heart - An illicit amphetamine. “ “yellow star - The yellow six-pointed star which Jews were required to wear both before and during WW2 particularly by occupying Nazi forces. Such stars were also used in Nazi concentration camps where patches and badges of various colours were required to be worn to indicate a variety of other groupings. Brown triangles indicated gypsies; purple or violet – Jehovah’s witnesses; green – habitual criminals; red – political in-mates; pink – homosexuals; black triangles indicated members of a supposedly asocial grouping including prostitutes and lesbians (and in some camps, gypsies) and a blue triangle indicated emigrants.” “purple patch; to go through a -To experience a period when everything goes well. “     (A DICTIONARY OF COLOUR by Ian Paterson)

History of Purple:

As civilisations developed, so did clothing and coloured dyes. The earliest purple dyes date back to about 1900 B.C It took 12,000 shellfish to extract 1.5 grams of the pure dye - which was hardly enough for dying a single item of clothing the size of the Roman toga. It’s a no-brainer, that this colour was used primarily for garments privileged individuals. Over the course of history, purple pigments and dyes became less costly and complex, but one thing has remained the same: Purple symbolises nobility and luxury to most people in the world.

Bases on surveys in Europe and North America, purple is the colour most often associated with rarity, royalty, magic, mystery, and piety. When combined with pink, it is associated with eroticism, femininity, and seduction.

Symbol of the Feminist movement (Second Wave) in the United States (1970s). The purple colour was chosen as a tribute to the Suffragette movement a half-century earlier (First Wave). In the West, purple is the colour most associated with vanity, extravagance, and individualism. Among the seven major sins, it represents vanity. It is a colour which is used to attract attention. Purple is the colour most often associated with the artificial and the unconventional. It is the major colour that occurs the least frequently in nature, and was the first colour to be synthesised. Purple is sometimes associated with the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community. It is the symbolic colour worn on Spirit Day, a commemoration that began in 2010 to show support for young people who are bullied because of their sexual orientation. Purple is closely associated with bisexuality, largely in part to the bisexual pride flag which combines pink – representing homosexuality – and blue – representing heterosexuality – to create the bisexual purple. 

Purple in Art:

Henri Matisse, Les toits de Collioure (1905). Henri Matisse and the other painters of the Fauvist movement were the first to make a major use of magenta to surprise and make an impact on the emotions of the viewer.

The Reserve Bank of India (RBI) issued a Magenta coloured banknote of ₹2000 denomination on 8 November 2016 under Mahatma Gandhi New Series. This is the highest currency note printed by RBI that is in active circulation in India.

Claude Monet Waterloo Bridge, Blurred sun, 1903 Oil on canvas

Andy Warhol Cow 1977 Screen-print on wallpaper

[senadimell]

Okay, this is exactly the kind of super-cool thing I like geeking out about, but (so?) I want to point out that fluorescence is a little different than just color our eyes and brains can’t see.

Some things reflect UV light, and we don’t see it because our eyes and brains aren’t optimized to process that kind of energy as visual output. Many animals can see UV, so it’s not impossible that they’d see UV like red or green or any other color. (Whether or not they can also see those colors is a different story*).

But shining a light on a possum so that it turns pink? That is not exactly the same phenomenon. That’s fluorescence, not reflectance.

Fluorescence is essentially when atoms absorb a bunch of energy (excitation), but instead of losing it through heat, etc, they emit it at a lower-energy frequency as light. It’s a two step process: it has to absorb the right (usually high-energy) frequency of light, and then emit the leftover energy at a lower frequency. UV light is higher-energy than the colors we can see, so it tends to enable fluorescence more readily. This article goes into it a little bit more with some graphics.

The gap between what the energy/color of light absorbed and emitted is called the Stokes shift. Ever seen hidden markings on money that glow under a black light? The ink absorbs UV light, and emits a lower-energy light.

[ID: a picture of a 50 Euro bill under a black light. A ring of neon green and orange stars form a ring, and rectangles and dots appear in other places across the bill].

Generally speaking, if you’re absorbing something, you’re not reflecting much of it. If you’re absorbing a lot of UV, you’re not reflecting it as color. So those possums aren’t glowing in secret UV colors that we can’t see. Rather, they’re absorbing it, and when you’ve got enough concentrated, high-energy UV light, you’ve figuratively wound up the jack-in-the-box of the molecules and they’re converting it into lower-energy light that they emit as fluorescent colors.

Animals that can see UV don’t look at a Euro and see the glowing patterns on the bill above, because it’s not reflecting a ton of UV. If it’s glowing in a picture and it’s not bioluminescent, chances are it’s fluorescing under very specific lighting conditions: a lot of concentrated UV.

So not only are the possums not secretly glowing, they probably don’t fluoresce much in the natural world. Think of them as potentially-pink instead of secretly pink. Or platypuses as potentially-blue. Put on the hat light, and suddenly it’s (Perry) the fluorescent blue platypus. The jury’s still out on why this biology helps them!

But are there things that reflect UV light? Are there secret patterns in the natural world that animals who are UV-sensitive can see?

Yes!

[Image ID: three pictures of the same 8-petaled flower. The first is a vibrant yellow. The second is muted, almost grey-scale, but with a big black spot  in the middle covering about half the inner length of the petals. The third also has the spot, but instead of being pale yellow-tinted, pale purple is also present along with yellow tinges]

Notice how this picture doesn’t look neon and glow-y. That’s because the flower isn’t fluorescing. Rather, the photographer used a UV lens to capture reflectance that our eyes can’t see. [photographers feel free to chime in]. Our brains don’t have a checkbox for the UV range, so the black marking is invisible to us, but it represents the UV light that’s reflecting back as strongly as any other color. Butterflies and many birds can see this! (It most likely doesn’t look black to them).

Lastly, the ultraviolet spectrum is a spectrum just like the visible one--it’s a continuation of the same thing! But the invisible pink of the possum or blue of the chameleon’s bones aren’t “pink UV” or “blue UV,” because those are regular, visible-spectrum colors emitted through fluorescence. Black-light green looks green because green-energy light is glowing off the shirt. It only looks funny because it’s glowing rather than reflecting green/absorbing all the non-green visible wavelengths.

UV has a range of energy, and if we could visually distinguish between those ranges, we’d probably have cooler names for those colors. As it stands, we’ve got plain ol’ UV A, UV B, and UV C. The later the letter, the higher the energy (and the more damaging). We really don’t want to be exposed to high-energy stuff--the higher the energy, the harder it is to stop or reflect, and the more damage all of this energy can do to us internally. UV rays-->X rays-->Gamma rays: yikes!

As a final word, remember that prolonged UV exposure can damage anyone’s skin, regardless of race or skin color. Remember how the UV camera captured the “black” spot on the flower that was bouncing back a lot of UV? Now take a look at this photo shot with a UV lens of someone putting on sunscreen.

ID: A photo of the same white woman, identically posed to have her hands pressed against her temples, with sunglasses on her head. The full-color picture on the left shows a pale, barely-visible film of sunscreen that she’s rubbing in. Her skin in the black-and-white image on the right looks black, as if she’s applied black paint.]

The left photo shows how the sunscreen’s reflecting UV light, protecting your skin from harmfully absorbing its radiation. Stay safe, folks!

(As for aliens seeing patterns that we can’t due to different ocular structure...I wrote a whole fic about that! Don’t get me started on color television...)

*We can’t automatically assume that just because an animal reflects a color, it can also see that color. Animals that we know see UV tend to be fish, bugs, and birds. Mammals don’t generally have the ability to process UV light.** There are exceptions, though.

The frozen wastes of the Arctic reflect around 90 per cent of the UV light that hits them; snow-free land typically reflects only a few per cent. So Jeffery and colleagues wondered whether reindeers had adapted to their UV-rich world....

“Very few mammals see UV light. Rodents do and some species of bat do but we have no idea why they have developed this capability,” says Jeffery. “This is the first time we have got a real handle on why a mammal uses UV light.”

The eyes of most mammals cannot cope with UV light because it carries enough energy to destroy their sensitive photoreceptors, permanently damaging vision. To prevent this happening we experience “snow blindness”: our corneas respond to UV light by becoming temporarily cloudy, preventing excess amounts of UV reaching and burning the retina.

“Why don’t reindeer, arctic fox, polar bears or arctic seals get snow blindness?” asks Jeffery. “Arctic mammals must have a completely different mechanism for protecting their retinas.”

Glen Jeffrey, quoted in “Reindeer gained UV vision after moving to the Arctic”

**Technically, some humans can see UV, UV. Generally, this ability is caused by aphakia, or missing the lens of your eye.

***The platypus study! And another article about it.

We’re only finding out recently that a lot of animals have colors and patterns that we cannot see because they’re outside of our visual range. It calls to attention how much of the world we can’t experience because our senses are limited. When we shine UV lights on them, they glow pink or blue, but these are the colors that we CAN see…. they could be a bunch of different colors, which we SEE as all pink. It’s also interesting to consider that most of these animals are not aware of having glowing patches on their bodies…. isn’t it also possible that we have skin or hair patterns that were not aware of? . . (There is actually some research out there to support the idea that our own skin fluoresces as well and that there are gender differences in the pattern and glow.) Other places to see my posts: INSTAGRAM / FACEBOOK / ETSY / KICKSTARTER    

[wileds]

hc. love & color symbolism, clothing, etc.  past headcanons have established that the decorated body makes up a part of his cultural background & identity.  that said, color symbolism doesn’t apply to all of the clothes or outfits that he wears as many of his style choices are just for style.  color symbolism applies mostly when he wears traditional clothing and formal / ceremonial clothing, which is often traditional for him or incorporates traditional elements.  in the clarkia tribe  light colors are said to resemble sunlight and include any hue of red and yellow.  greens and blacks (often replaced by blues or purples) are dark colors.  white represents morality and good fortune, reflected even in one of their sayings that someone who is good-natured and agreeable has a “white heart.”  if you go further white also has connections with piety, prayer, and such things especially in head coverings or modesty garments.  the colors in love’s wardrobe are eclectic and do not lean heavily in the light or dark spectrum but, significantly and intentionally, all of his tattoos - present and future - are done in red ink, a light color connected to sunlight.  if asked love will happily align himself with sunny metaphors and symbols over the moon as well, even though there are some standards of (feminine) beauty linked to the moon & moonlight which he also enjoys!

metals like silver and gold can grant anything extra dynamic energy, especially if it’s metallic sequins or some similar baubles that move and shimmer when one walks.

and fun fact:  green is one of the most heavily symbolic colors.  obvious ties to vegetation and fertility, but it also has religious significance and charisma.  you will see green in and around a lot of shrines and significant buildings, be it tiles or plants.