#you felt purple and red and earthy to me :)

[faunandfloraas]

✒️ 👉👈

~💜

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, sadism/emotional torture, death threats, talk of death, degradation, Adamverse again (i am literally obsessed with his emo ass no joke)

You don’t know exactly what you did wrong. Maybe it’s because the dinner was just slightly less crispy than he likes, maybe it took you just one second too long to return his kiss - or maybe he just felt like torturing you - sometimes he got into these weird, sadistic moods, and you could never tell exactly where you had messed up. And you wish you did - oh how you wish he would tell you straight up, so you would be able to avoid the pain in future; alas that would never happen. Why would he let you in on the secret, why would he make the rules known if he has so much fun with you once you inevitably break them? He doesn’t need a reason to hurt you, because he already owns you, but sometimes he likes to have one; just so you’d blame yourself a bit more - just so you’d ask yourself what you could do better next time.

All you know now is that he’s mad, red - hot fury plastered all over his thin pale face. His expression, already deadly and hostile, at this moment looks simply demonic. All you know now is that he’s gripping your wrist and sinking his sharp nails as deep into your prickled skin as possible while dragging you somewhere unknown. Somewhere deep within the forest. 

You take in the smell of cold, fresh rain as your naked feet splash into the soaking grass, leaving a muddy trail behind. The forest feels alive - living and breathing into the early winter, the earthy scent of wet wood and linden heavy in the air. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, all this green scenery, even the icy air filling your lungs and the silent song of the sparrows left to die in the cold. You’re trying to appreciate this short moment of peace and quiet, of finally feeling the earth beneath you for the first time in what feels like years, but you just can’t ignore the biting, freezing chill that wraps around your body like a coat woven by Death herself. 

You’re wearing nothing but a flimsy white nightgown that sticks to your body, pretty and way too long it drags against the damp soil, sullying the beautiful lace. It’s almost funny, you think. The delicate fabric seems red under the soft moonlight - like blood, and it makes you feel like some fucked up fairytail metaphor of a princess, a trembling virgin waiting to be deflowered by the beast. But this can’t be further from the truth - there is nothing left for him to take.

Adam stops suddenly, making you trip and swing towards him - but instead of catching you, he pushes you to the side.

“Watch your step.” He hisses through gritted teeth, once again reaching to grab your hand. “We’re almost there. If you don’t want me to leave you to the wolves, you better keep up.” He adds, resuming his quick step ahead. Somewhere in your rational mind you know he’s just trying to scare you into walking faster - there is no way there are wolves this far up north, and even if there were, he would never let them hurt you. Would he?

“Alright. We’ve arrived.” The man stops after a while, letting go of you. You turn to look at him, eyes full of confusion. You’re in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing here aside from a few bushes and a big hole covered in dry leaves. “What is–”

“This will be your grave.” He interrupts you before you can even question him, gesturing to the wide open pit as he shoves you closer to the edge - so close you’re staring at the pitch black void that awaits you at the other side. You freeze in your place, unable to move an inch, cold sweat running down your back. 

You’ve pictured this night countless times before - the night when you finally die. Somehow you imagined it would be different; a lot less romantic. You thought your heart would stop due to the constant stress and paranoia, or Adam would squeeze your throat just a bit too tight - your face would get just a touch too purple and you’d kick the bucket. He’d force his length down your throat and you’d choke on your own vomit, or he would simply beat you up so badly you wouldn’t wake up the next morning. You never thought your end would be so picturesque - wearing a beautiful, sensual robe under the moonlight, slowly bleeding out as the sun rises over your cold, unmoving form. He’d probably kiss your dead lips and hold your hand too. 

No. You can’t let this happen. You don’t want this to happen. He doesn’t get to decide whether your death is pretty, ugly or fucking gruesome, whether your guts stick out for the world to see. You can’t let yourself die beautifully. You can��t let him see himself as some romantic gothic hero from the old books. He has to be the grim reaper, he has to realize he’s nothing more than a sadistic, lonely creep with vengeance and a sick fascination for blood that just happened to be yours.

“Are you going to kill me?” You whisper, voice as smooth as you can force it to be. You can’t let him know you’re scared. His eyes, so far sharp and calculated, suddenly narrow with a crazed glint - and he takes a step towards you, wrapping his hands around your waist. You can feel his weight resting against your body, a clear signal that one wrong move and you will both slip down the drain. “Maybe I will.” Adam leans in just slightly to whisper in your ear, chuckling at the way your shoulders stiffen completely - fists clenched to remain balanced. “Maybe I won’t.” His hot breath hits the freezing skin of your neck, but instead of another human’s warmth, all you feel is ice - cold fear. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“You fucking asshole–” You hiss inaudibly, small angry tears forming in your eyes. You can swear you’re not angry - or at least you shouldn’t be. One can only be angry when their expectations are being met - you should know better than anyone what the man is capable of. Yet somewhere far inside you still find the courage, the patience to feel rage, to feel cheated; tricked. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? It’s my fucking life on–” Your sentence gets cut off by the deep guttural sobs tearing off from deep within your lungs. If you weren’t a second away from falling into your literal grave, you’d be beating at his chest right now with all the energy you have left - which isn’t a lot, but you’d give it your damn best.

“Shh, baby, it’s alright.” Your captor wraps his arms around you, breathing in your sweetness mixed in with the rain and the light earthy scent of the forest. For a second he can imagine laying you on the wet soil, not even shoving you down like usual, just gently pushing your body deeper and deeper into the mud until all that’s left unburied is your lips. “You always say you want to die, don’t you? I mean, you obviously seem to think that being with me is a fate worse than death.” He slaps on a big taunting smile, and you can’t decide if it makes you scared or furious. “So what’s different now?”

You inhale slowly.

“You-you–!” You feel your cheeks heat up with ire as your whole body prepares to attack the very source of all these complicated feelings, when… Nothing. Your fists can’t reach him, nor can your poisonous words break his heart for the second time. You’ve slipped into the world of the dead, somewhere far away. It’s darker than the winter night and more quiet than you had anticipated Hell would be - the only thing you hear is your own shallow heartbeat.

“Look at what you did, you stupid girl.” Someone pulls you back into the human realm, forcing you to open your eyes. “You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” The voice sneers with the same old malice you can recognise even with your hands covering your ringing ears - so you must still be alive. Or maybe people are right, and Hell is on here on earth. “Scared of life, yet terrified of death.” Adam keeps mocking you, stepping closer to the pit so he can see exactly how pitiful you look, squirming in the dirt. “Also fucking clumsy at that. You know, I was just teasing you, but you really went and got yourself into that filthy hole. Just how useless can you be.”

You gulp, your dry throat straining against your tonsils. You’re alive - and you’ve made a fool of yourself just like always. Sometimes you wonder if you only exist to entertain Adam, if the whole reason for your being is one big excuse for him to hurt you until whatever is haunting him goes away. Yet it never does, and you’re not sure which of you is more pitiful.

“P-please…” You whimper weakly. You’re not sure what you’re even begging him for - to stop talking, to go away or to help you get out of this black, bottomless pit. You’re so cold, so wet - you just want to go home, although… Maybe your home doesn’t exist anymore.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart. Speak louder.” The man coos, his shadow towering over you in a cruel reminder that even in death he’d still follow, somehow. “Do you need a hand? You’d have to be more convincing than that if you want me to help you, baby. Why should I waste my time saving a woman who doesn’t even love me?”

Your stomach turns, you’ve been here before. It’s a trap question - whatever you say, it’d still be the wrong answer, because with Adam there are no right answers. There is only suffering and dread over and over again until you’re both old and decaying in your own filth somewhere in the basement of his late mother’s cottage, surrounded by rats just waiting to feast on your flesh once your hearts finally stop. And even then you’d know no peace - he’d probably find you in Hell. You’ve been sharing his pain for too long, whether you like it or not, whether you love him or not, you can’t deny your souls are tied, glued together with blood and bile and sweat and tears.

“Please stop playing around, Adam. Just get me out of here, okay?” You make your voice small and whiny, just the way he likes it to be when you plead with him. Part of you is fighting against the survival instinct to snap into pure submission - to promise him anything and everything, because you will, and then what? He’d take you home, he’d be sugary sweet for the next two days, approximately, before you inevitably fuck up again. It’s all pointless. This love of his is nothing more than an exercise of nihilism - you’re just unsure why he feels the need to drag you along.

“You’re just hopeless without me, aren’t you?” He says rather softly, recognising the clear retaliation in your tone. Then he jumps down the pit, landing on his two feet like a panther - like he had rehearsed for this moment alone. It goes as usual. He stretches his hand towards you. You take a quick look at him. You reach in, just barely hanging on. Fingers hovering under his clenched fist. Shivering. He kisses your wrist. Standing up slowly. You’re dizzy. He wipes the mud off your face. Headache. Your chest tightens. 

And he gets to hold your hand and carry you away as the sun approaches, bright and blinding under the clouds just like a bloody fucking fairytale. 

[buttered-my-biscuits]

The First Kiss

Summary: (Y/K)’s first kiss with Fili & Kili - (Separately)

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Hinting of Sexual Activities, Very soft; playful and fluffy.

Word count:

Fili - A Masterpiece: 737

Kili - The Game of Chase: 841

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Translations:

Berzêl. (Sun of all suns (gold)

Abnâmul: Beautiful

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Fili

It was a frosty winter morning, the cold nipping at your nose as your breath fogged the air. It was early enough that the birds only just began singing.

The others were packing the last of the camp, talking quietly amongst themselves. You’d ask to help, but were politely rejected.

So, instead, you allowed yourself a moment of silent solitude. Strolling thru the wet and dewy forest, you stopped on the edge of the hillside; the sunrise was to die for.

Pinks and golds and purples painted across the sky, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. A soft breeze littered the clearing as you took a deep clarifying breath.

A branch snapped behind you, breaking your serenity.

Instantly, your dagger was pulled from its sheath, already raising to attack. A hand, however, stopped your arm from behind, as a deep chuckle erupted from one’s chest.

“It is just me, no need for such violence.” Fili offered with amusement.

“Well say something next time, before my blade decides otherwise, by accident.” You snapped back with a sigh, turning to meet those icy blue eyes.

Said eyes were crinkled at the corners, dimples standing attention on each of the tanned cheeks.

“My apologies, Berzêl. I did not mean to startle you. I was just simply curious as to where you wandered off to.” Fili chucked again, his eyes shifting to the sunrise behind you.

Following his eyes, you turned halfway and laid your own upon the horizon once more, watching as the purples and pinks slowly faded to red and orange.

“I cannot remember the last time I actually watched the sun rise…” you said quietly, the tranquility returning to the clearing. “They’re so beautiful… masterpieces presented to all right before our very eyes.”

Fili watched you wonder at the sky with a warm smile. The morning sun slowly extended its golden rays through the morning fog, streaks of gold shining on your rosy cheeks and through your hair.

“Abnâmul…” He whispered quietly, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Huh? Did you say something?” You asked as you turned your head to him once more. Instead of speaking, however, he crept in close. Sliding his arm slowly and gentle across your back, he turned you so that you two were chest to chest.

You looked up into his pale eyes, confusion splaying across your features. Fili raised his other hand and brushed a lock of your (h/c) hair behind your ear, before coming to rest against your cheek.

Time nearly stopped in it’s place as he leaned down.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, Fili pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, the tips of your noses still touching.

He was reading you; his expression tinged with worry — worry that maybe he should not have done that.

After a moments time, and after the initial shock wore off, a soft giggle escaped your lips.

Confusion slowly creeped its way across his face at your reaction, causing another giggle to escape.

Leaning up, you closed your eyes as you rubbed your nose alongside his. You practically felt the sigh of relief exhaled from his lungs. He returned the gesture, your noses slid slowly and intimately against one another.

This time, it was your lungs that released a sigh as you felt his lips press against your own once more.

Your hands found themselves wrapped around his neck, his earthy yet sweet smell intoxicating you as his own hands landed on your hips.

He pulled you in against his chest, his tongue swiping against your lips requesting access. Access you happily granted.

A battle began between tongues, a soft moan escaping your throat as you fought a losing battle.

Far too quickly, though, your lips parted.

The two of you retreated to your earlier stance, foreheads and noses against one another again; both of your eyes closed as you took in the moment.

Once more, a giggle made its way past your lips. Another. Fili happily returned the sound; the two of you high on endorphins.

The sun had made its way higher into the sky; the colors of a sunrise no more.

“We should get back to camp before they worry…” You whispered, your arms still wrapped around Fili’s neck.

“I agree.” Yet, neither of you moved.

Another kiss was shared. Then another. And another.

…The others could wait a bit longer.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Kili

The game of Chase

Word Count: 841

Your feet echoed across the stone as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you. Your heart beat at rapid speed.

Another set of footsteps could be heard following quickly behind, though these footsteps were heavier — louder.

You squealed in surprise as you were grabbed from behind, being thrown over a broad shoulder.

“I got you!!” Cheered a loud, deep voice.

Your hands beat against said shoulders, struggling to escape the strong arms that kept you captive as you screamed once more.

One swift jab of your knee to your captivators stomach sent you tumbling off and landing with thump against the stone floor of the mountain.

A groan of pain rang through the air before they yelled “That’s cheating!”

“It’s only cheating if you’re a sore loser!” You returned back, a cocky smile painted your face and you huffed from exertion.

Quickly scrambling to your feet, you began the game of chase once more. However, you were too slow.

A strong hand reached out and grabbed yours before you could run away before shoving your back against the wall. Had a hand not strategically been placed behind your head, you would have surely been left with an ache.

“Kili! What gives!” You cried out, finding yourself trapped between his arms.

“I win.” Kili stated matter of factly as he heaved — out of breath from running for so long.

As the adrenaline slowed down, the realization of how close the two of you were, settled in.

Your breath hitched as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. Hints of gold speckles mixed with warm amber.

You were not the only one who took notice of the close distance.

Kili’s eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned in.

Too slow.

Just as his lips ghosted your own, you tore out of his grip and down the hall with a giggle.

Kili visibly deflated for a moment before a devious smile plastered itself onto his face.

You turned, halfway down the hall to lock gazes with him, offering a big playful smile. “You…” he growled before taking off after you.

Another playful scream escaped as you fled towards the door you knew would lead outside. Pushing it open you attempted to slam it behind you, but you were too slow.

The wood creaked as Kili’s brute strength pushed against the other side. With one last shove, the door swung open, causing you to tumble backwards right onto your rump.

In an instant, Kili was on you. Pushing you backwards with arms on either side of your head, his thighs locking your own together.

Laughter rang loud and clear from the two of you, Kili’s a bit more devious, excitedly celebrating yet another victory.

A soft breeze rustled your messy (h/c) hair, bringing with it the soft sweet smell of spring.

You two had ended up in one of the lesser known royal gardens. One that scarcely had visitors. Your breath panted out harsh breaths as you struggled to catch your breath due to laughter.

As your laughter whittled away into giggles however, a gasp tore itself from your throat.

Soft and gentle lips found your own — Moving slowly and languidly. Releasing a euphoric sigh, you felt your own eyes slip closed, your hands finding dark brunette locks to reside in.

Kili kissed you deep and intimately, pushing you into the soft grass beneath you, taking in the smell of your sweet strawberry oil you often used on your hair after a bath.

A deep groan released itself from his chest as he deeper the kissed further, his tongue slipping between your lips.

Your hands tightened in his hair as his tongue plundered your mouth. Tearing himself from you, his mouth quickly moved to your jaw, kissing and sucking gentle down to your neck.

Sighs and moans filled the air as he kissed a rather sensitive spot right below your ear.

“Kili…” you tried, his name sounding a bit too breathless. “Kili.” You tried again.

With one last kiss against your sweet spot, he pulled himself from your neck, staring into your eyes.

Your breath hitched upon looking at him. His eyes were dilated, honey brown quickly turning nearly black.

Releasing his silky locks, your hands slid down to rest upon his shoulders. Locking eyes, you gave one last playful smirk, before shoving him to the side, rolling the both of you over so you were the one sitting in victory.

A victory he was very much willing to let you have.

His hands gripped your hips as your thighs made their home on each side of his. Leaning over him, it was your turn.

You kissed him once, twice. Your arms found their place beside his head, dropping to your elbows as your tongue fought for dominance.

Your victory however, did not come.

Kili gripped your hips, before grinding up against your own. Your back arched as you cried out.

Licking his lips, Kili smiled deviously. “I win.”

[popatochisssp]

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

[nectar-cellar]

mortimer's closet

i want to ramble about the sense of style i have in mind for morty. this is more for my own reference than anything but feel free to read if interested. with the previous version of mortimer, i never felt inspired to develop any looks for him, his appearance just didn't speak to me. i did not have a strong inspiration/direction when i was making him either.

this new version is a much better muse.

colours: red and black is obviously morty's signature combo, but i wanted to work some more colour into his wardrobe. i thought some muted cool colours (blue and purple) would actually suit him really well because of his pale skin and black hair. i also thought cream (a sweater or some trousers) would complement the black and red colour scheme but i didn't make any outfits with it. for some brighter colours i could see him wearing teals, emeralds, and golds. i feel like earthy, warm colours (oranges, browns, greens, pinks, beiges) and neon colours would look very out of place on him.

everyday 01: sports coat, turtleneck sweater, wool or tweed trousers. his outfit for running errands where he'll be seen in public. comfortable, relaxed but still quite mature and luxe to reflect his personality and background.

everyday 02: a shirt with rolled up sleeves and slacks. he's not a fan of jeans. this is as casual as he gets.

formal 01: pinstripe double breasted suit. i always associate pinstripe with mortimer's old school vibe. this look is very vintage wall street yuppie. this is his power suit !

formal 02: a sleek, modern charcoal suit for any formal occasion. business meetings, weddings, funerals, divorce proceedings...

outerwear: this peacoat just suits him so well.

athletic: a long sleeve shirt for working out because he'd be too embarrassed to show any skin up top. all his workout gear is monochrome. sadly, no neon spandex for him.

sleepwear: a pair of silky red undies because red is his signature color! i added gold lettering because his TS4 default outfit has a bit of gold in it. and you know this man only wears designer underwear.

swimwear: a pair of silky lightweight swim trunks with designer print on them. these are the only colorful, printed clothes he has in his closet. he feels lighter and more relaxed just looking at them.

[silent-dark-entries]

I left my panties at Malfoy manor.

When I woke up this morning, It was so hot that our skin felt fused together. With Draco being little spoon I was able to peel myself away from him without alarming him. I slowly made myself down the loft stairs to the bottom and search for my clothes in the darkness.

I decided to walk home before school so I can put on fresh clothes, so I got up before five. As I made myself down the driveway I notice that security had arrived. I prepare myself to make up an excuse but the gate opens without me saying anything.

Now, here I am on the side of the country road doing my very first walk of shame as the morning commuters swerve pass me. In my school girl outfit and my thirty kilo book bag. I'm starting to think I think of myself way higher than I should. This is a very humbling experience.

The sky is almost completely lit when I finally make it home. My mother has left but the mirrors are still fogged up in the bathroom so I'm assuming she has just left. She's always in a hurry to leave because she tries to get every second of sleep she can. I swipe my hand across the mirror clearing only enough to see myself for the first time since losing my virginity. I graze my hand over two purple marks Draco has left on my neck. They're faint, but still noticeable. I feel embarrassed. How am I suppose to explain this to my friends. I hop straight into the shower. Leaving my clothes and book bag by the hamper.

I get out only when the water starts to run cold. I head straight into my room trying not to look at my self in the mirror. After putting on a fresh uniform, I decide to put on some make up. Placing two red dots on the hickeys to make it look like a vampire bite and some dark eye make up.

I walk toward the science wing where the Botanist Club meets in the morning. I feel stupid with the amount of makeup I have on. Neville is the chairman and has been in it with Luna, his vice chairman, since first year.

I love walking in the science hall. It's covered in vines and colorful flowers. The floors also has the periodic table painted onto the floor by the art club from years ago.

When I look out the garden windows I see Neville leading the club back in from the green house. Luna sees me before I see her. They're both wearing their matching costumes. Neville has a pink flower on top of his head with a couple of white thorns made out of paper stuck to his school vest. Luna has a bunch of deep purple leaves stuck to her with a couple of whit flowers, along with the rest of the club that are dressed as flowers. Luna waves at me dreamily while walking towards me. After seeing Luna at Neville's party everything about her makes sense. Luna's not ditzy, she's a stoner. She's always high.

"Wow Maisie, you look fantastic!" Luna pulls me in for a hug. She smells like dirt, but not in a gross way, in the earthy way.

"So do you Luna! The whole plant squad looks adorable!" I say.

"Thank you! It was all Nev's idea of course!" Luna turns and waves at Neville and he waves back. The first bell rings and Luna and I head for class. "You're coming tonight, right? I hear Cormac was invited but Neville never got an answer."  I nod. Oh god. I forgot about the whole Hermione and Cormac secret. I completely judge Hermione for hooking up with her peer and I had done the same exact thing. 

"Hey, do you want to go to Blaise Zabini's Halloween party Saturday." I say as we turn down the History hall. It's not as decorated as the science wing but its covered in some historical documents and quotes. Nothing special.

"I was invited and it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Plus, they probably wouldn't mind you being there especially Theo." Luna rolls her eyes.

" I heard they do coke at those parties or at least, that's what Fred and George said. Pansy Parkinson did a line of space dust and stripped naked in Goyle's fountain...at a Christmas party." Luna recalls."So yes, I want to go. Who invited you anyway? Draco Malfoy?" Luna says softly as if saying his name will summon him.

"Yeah he did. The tutoring thing has brought us back as friends I guess." I say.

"Oh yes! I remember you two being close in like primary or something. How weird..." Luna says as the second bell rings. Luna and I split as we head to our separate classrooms.

My first class of the day is history with Professor Moody. He's a crazy guy but I'd easily say one of my favorites. He's a great teacher and the perfect teacher to wake me up early in the morning with his loud voice.

I sit close to Moody's desk in the front. We usually talk at the end of class or have small debates. I pull my books and pencils out as the rest of the class floods in, Including Moody.

"Almost didn't recognize you there Maisie!" Moody Laughs. "That Vampire bite almost looks real" I look down and my ears start to feel hot. Moody turns to the board and starts to scribble something on the board. I'm lucky to be a good listener because Moody's hand writing is exactly that, scribbles. I don't want to blame it on his eye patched eye but I always thought that was why.

More students fill the room, including Theo Nott who has his lacrosse stick hanging half way out of his bag. Theo scans the room before meeting at me. He walks towards me and sits down. It's not really unlike him to sit next to someone like me, so he can cheat off us. I won't allow it! If he'll just ask me for help I'll at least think about it...

"Here." Theo holds his hand out like there's something in it. I look up at him and he shakes his head. I hold my hand out and he drops a white origami bird in my hand with 'open me' written on it. I start to open the paper ripping it occasionally.

MEET ME IN THE FORBIDDEN CORRIDOR .

d.m.

I look up at Theo and he shrugs. I stand up and walk up to Moody.

"I...uh...need to go talk to Head Mistress Afults." I say. The bell rings and the last late students walks in. Moody nods and I walk out the class to the forbidden hall way.

It's not as scary as you think it is. It's just an abandoned hall way with empty class rooms. We were told it was forbidden first year but mostly because no prefects are available to watch it. I go to this hallway all the time to tell the truth. When the art classes do their yearly paint of the tree in the courtyard I come in and sit in one of the classrooms for the week.

When I reach the corridor I see Draco at the very end. As I get closer Draco, his costume becomes more apparent as he turns to me. A vampire. His long cloak flows behind him as he paces across the hall, and as he turns to face me. I feel his eyes wander over me. Draco lifts his eyebrows and smile.

"Maisie Waters, skipping class... never saw that coming." Draco teases. Draco holds his hands out for me to grab. I look down at his long fingers stretched out towards me. They're decorated with silver snake rings with emerald eyes. I look up at Draco's gleaming eyes. He's smiling at me and I can't help but to smile back. I grab Draco's hand firmly and step closer to him. "You left so soon this morning."

" I tried not to disturb you." I say quietly.

"You didn't disturb me, that's the problem. I want to be able to walk you out next time." Draco says sternly. Next time? "And maybe next time I can help you find your panties." Draco reaches under his cape and pulls out my pink Monday knickers. I feel my face turn hot. I reach for them but Draco snatches them from my arms length. "Oh no Mai, they're mine now."

"Oh god, Dray." I mumble. Silence falls on Draco and I. "Draco why did you call me out of class..."

"Just wanted to make sure you're okay..." Draco trails off. "And to make sure we were on the same page about what this is...."

"This? You mean you want to keep it a secret." I hiss. Draco says nothing. I let go of his hand letting it swing to his side. "I wasn't going to tell anyone. You arsehole."

Draco crosses his arms in front of himself and looks at the ground. "I'm not trying to offend you Mai-"

"-Well you did." I say backing away from Draco. I throw my hands up and let them hit my sides as I walk away from Draco. What a dumbass, and I'm not even talking about Draco.

[nerdy-nintendo-noodle]

Quilt

(An idea of a fluff scene inspired by @lizadale 's Dimigi stories. I hope you all enjoy! Luigi's POV, by the way ❤️)

You think for some time, staring down at fistfuls of oddly coloured fabrics in your hands. He'll like it. You almost seem to try and convince yourself for a moment. Again, you sift through them.

First was the huge piece of white material, which when you flipped it over, you got a beautiful sea of stars and what felt like a portal to space. Ah, count Bleck's cape. Very high quality fabric. Just Textured like your jersey that Dimentio had liked before.

Then, a black one. Oh. With gold buttons on. And a neckerchief of green. It must have been his. Or rather, yours. But not you. You try your best to breathe through the hard lump that accumulated so fast in your throat. And, just as quick, a little twinge in your chest. Breathe, breathe, the longer you look at it, the less overwhelming it will be. The less the heart will have control over you. Just desensitise. You blink many times with shuddery breaths staggering through you. Every glance hurts, but a little less than the last. It was Mr. L's shirt. It was hard for you to see. But it was clean. All the fabrics were now.

You'd gone to all this trouble to go back and get these. This bundle of clothing and materials were the same pile of colours that clashed the day you saw Dimentio huddled unconscious in them. They were previously stained in blood, sodden and crusty. Dusty and an overwhelming smell of rubble and antiques. You'd cleaned them all tenderly. First by hand and then in a washing machine.

Next was a patch of what you could gather of Dimentio's old attire. A small patchwork square of purple and yellow. You had actually salvaged two small fabric squares of it. And, as you peered into a bag to the side of you, something else, but you'd already fixed that.

Following this was a polkadot fabric. Yellow mainly, and then white dots. Mimi's. Then a skirt. Red and black. Oh, that's no skirt. And if you'd have said that to O'chunks... well, who knows what would have happened. You feel your lips curling upwards as one of your thumbs lightly rubs over each one. Time to get to work.

When Dimentio finally arrives home from his day out with the flopside Nolrem and managing a shithole of a dimension, he looks just a little overwhelmed. And you feel the tension in your chest as you grip the bag you'd stuffed the things into.

Oh dear. This may hurt him more. I don't want to do that. Please. Please be okay with this. If I just explain it maybe it'll b-

"OW!" You exclaim, feeling a notch of your skin retract from between his pinched fingers.

"You're worried. I was too long gone, was that the problem?" Dimentio asks, rubbing the patch where he'd nipped you. The heat of the tight pinch started to fade. You shake your head, then tipping it towards the bag you're holding.

"I... I got you something. Well, us, something..." You answer. He smiles a touch, reaching for it. As he grabs it, you feel your hand clench in protest. Don't, don't!

"Well, won't you let me see? A little odd that you would make something and not let me have it." Dimentio squinted at you and forcefully pinged each of your fingers from the loopholes of the bag.

Your stomach scrunched. The heart. It was pulling you down. But at the same time, you knew, somehow, that you both needed this in your lives.

Dimentio pulls a large quilt out from the bag. All knitted together. A collection of the fabrics he once swaddled himself in. The members of team Bleck. Their attire. All here. His face screwed for a moment as he went to smell for the cold, earthy, aged deteriorating smell. What he expected wasn't what he got. Detergent and soft feels, smells of lavender and a couple of spices. You knew to put warm smells in there, and not watery fragrances, of course.

"I... I thought we could have it as a momento. You know... our pasts aren't getting any easier to deal with. So, if we work together to get over it, and remember there's comfort in our tale somewhere... maybe desensitising ourselves to these and purposefully looking at the bad and turning it into a positive will help? Its okay if it stays in the wardrobe for a while, I'll understand..." You disclaim. Because you have to. You can't just leave it. You have to tell him and demonstrate to him that you didn't do it for his past to haunt him.

Dimentio goes through some facial phases. First, a touch of confusion. Then a hit of fascination. Followed by admiration as he swept his gelled bangs aside to look at the seems you'd knitted. The texture differences of all the clothes, the knitted seems, the colours. Everything was so distracting but yet beautiful all at once. You notice that the longer he stares at this thing, the more his mouth tries to open and say something.

"Thank you. This is, actually, genius. You singlehandedly made this. And you didn't have a meltdown while seeing-" He points at the black fabric with a green bandana. Your hands clasp together and fidget for a minute.

"Yes. Just a little. But I listened to you. I wanted to be brave. No matter how many times you tell me to shove a sour candy in my mouth, dunk my head in cold water and all the rest when I'm stressed... it takes a lot for me to notice that I'm actually stressing... You, on the other hand, can notice it a mile off. So when you remind me you're here, pinching me and waking me up... I dunno. You see, I wanted to expose myself to stress but make something good out of it... and maybe that way I'll get to get a little stronger while battling the heart. While being on my own." You blabber on. Your true intentions laid bare in front of him now. No harm done, no intention to hurt, I hope you see it.

Dimentio looks down at it again and swiftly curls the large blanket around himself. A jester burrito. And you cannot believe it. So early on, he's wrapping it around himself. You were prone to thinking it would be banished from his sight until he could cope. Apparently, he's gotten better with things being the way they were too. This is news. And good one, at that.

"Ah, there's more!" You nod at the bag again. Dimentio peers inside and pulls out a smaller granny square. It was his old uniform, but with small bells around it. He shook it delightfully, listening to their teeny individual chimes. Each one sounded different, but together they sounded far better.

Then, one more. Dimentio finally pulls out the last item... and his face. Oh his face. That smile. A genuine one. That curled from ear to ear and it wasn't threatening. Thank grambi. His old mask sat in his hands. It was all pulled together and stuck into one piece. However, the cracks were visible. It wasn't one of the seemless repairs like it was brand new, because what was the point of that? Oh no, this one's shattered pieces were bonded together with gold.

"Y'see the method here was to see the cracks and how much you've healed. I heard it was call-"

"Kintsugi. Yes, I'm familiar with it. And I can see why. I see its repair methods are similar to that of when you are using that soldering iron. These crafts aren't a far cry from what you stand for. Healing things by stitching them up and nurturing them, followed by fixing things and yet embracing their far from perfect past. I must say... these are exquisite. Thank you." Dimentio cooed, now rushing to fill in the blank space between you and him.

His warmth. That familiar feel of a job well done. It was never going to be easy, being away from him time after time when he went away to fix dimensions. So you thought it to be a good idea of getting stronger to fight the heart on your own. Though surprised, Dimentio actually started to look happy about it. And over the past few weeks you could visibly tell that he was, catching feelings for you. Nothing really backhanded was going on. And you could breathe without second guessing. You could breathe without the heart, because he was right there, helping it to sink deeper away from you. The cuddle was so tight that it felt like the chaos heart could get shit out, quite frankly. And the thought was tickling.

"By the way," Dimentio muffled into your chest, coming up for air to stare you dead in the eye.

"This is still not a decent substitute for your clothing. As much as it is deeply appreciated, leave a bundle of your clothes to me. If I should find an empty wardrobe at any time, I will kill you." He informs. Looks like laundry day, no matter how hard you try, was still going to be a fight...

[letterstoear]

Pomefiore inspired jewelry

I've been putting off this dorm for so long! I was completely lost in how I wanted to design each piece but after a long time I've finally have them all!

You can purchase them here: Pomefiore Trio — Letters to Ear (squarespace.com)

More about each piece under the cut!

Starting with Vil, whose earring was definitely the most difficult for me. I wanted something elegant, and I wanted an item that I could see Vil wearing for himself. So, I came up with this design. Of course, it's gold which is a nod to his crown and because Vil doesn't scream like a silver metal kind of person. We also have six pearls that are looped together after a purple bead. The purple bead is a glass briolette bead which is a nod to his color motif, and I wanted the gem to be faced. It couldn't be smoothed out at all because I wanted something to display the different kinds of challenges Vil went through to get where he is now. You can also look at it as a way to show how Vil has cuts that run deep. With the pearls it's supposed to look like a mirror as they're in that kind of shape, but I don't think you can really see that pop out.

Moving onto Rook Hunt, we have a chocker necklace. For Rook I wanted to incorporate his past of being a part of Savanaclaw. Which is why I picked to do a necklace as Savanaclaw students seem to wear necklaces and chockers often. This cotton lace was chosen as I felt it had an elegant yet earthy tone to it. Which is similar to Rook who is both. As for the two gems I wanted green for his nature loving self and yellow as color motif for him.

Now for Epel, I originally didn't want to do apples for him. I feel that it's overused for Epel, but it was a classic. He is based on the poison apple, so it was only fitting for him. I chose purple instead of red as Epel has a lavender color motif and it's not actually all one solid color either. The glass beads have a gradient look which is done on purpose. I thought it would better to show his change in character through a gradient color.

[cyrsed]

how do you get your colors in your art to look so good?

gonna resist the urge to say my colors aren't that great, and i'm gonna try and think about how i do color seriously.... also thank you for the compliment! i've always felt like i struggle with color but maybe i can still be helpful :B if this stuff is all super basic, apologies in advance

ig i already love bright colors, especially warm colors, but i feel like a lot of making visual art is bringing out the contrasts between colors, light and dark, textures, movement, saturation, curves and straight lines, etc., so that just means i usually try to think about the relationships between the colors a little more than the colors individually.

i also don't usually start with a solid color palette defined beforehand. i usually know the basic colors i want, but i don't typically choose them before i start bc that's too rigid for me, and i want to be able to adjust things or throw things out without worrying that i'm messing up the balance of a palette i already committed to.

so for this one

i used a lot of warm colors bc i loove earthy yellows and oranges, but i think it can make colors feel more vibrant if they're next to colors that contrast w/ it (warm and cool, or complementary colors).

the "gray" metal parts of the picture like the shelf stile coming down vertically, and the jar lids behind it, are green to contrast w the oranges and reds in particular, and there's some blue popping up in the zombie head and the shadows on the bottom shelf for the same reason, altho the blue is a touch on the greener, cooler side of blue (as opposed to the purpler, warmer side).

usually if i use a color in one place, i try to pull it into the rest of the picture for better balance unless maybe if it's the focal point. so i'm doing that with the blue, and the orange stickers to spread the bright orange from that big jar around more.

also i don't usually use straight gray/white/black, 99.9% of the time i'll use something tinted like that green metal stile, or the pinkish gray in the jar on the far right.

same here: it's mostly green and red bc i like that combo & they're complementary, but i did try to pull a little blue in as well through the shadows on the right ribcage and that one mystery organ under the green intestine, nd in the back of the leg.

that being said tho, it's not really "blue", it's more like nearly gray-purple that looks blue bc it's next to such bright warm colors. that's the magic of gray lol, it's very useful bc it's easy to make it look as if it's warm/cool depending on what colors it's surrounded with.

ig color for me is mostly about color relationships and saturation... the gray can look like blue if it needs to, and it can make the colors next to it look even more vibrant so the skin of this necromorph dude looks sickly and dead but the organs look pretty lively.

when i shade something i always try to use a color that's at least a little bit different from whatever the base color is. so in this case the base color was that kind of pale orange and the orange-ish gray, but the shadows are both super saturated & one is leaning more toward a sienna/orange (on the left side of the pic on the arm and ribs) and the other one is leaning a lil more toward a berry purple/red & i think that usually adds some nice depth to the color. also don't be afraid to add reeeally dark darks and really light lights, but imo the darks give colors the most life by contrast.

since this was a limited palette & not that detailed, i didn't worry about pulling that aquamarine anywhere else.

other than that, i just try to be bold with colors, and go for something exciting & not worry too much about whether it looks naturalistic. plus there's tons of colors you can pull out from regular objects/lighting/whatever else. this isn't specific to color, but the other thing i try to do is practice seeing what colors/forms are really there, not what i expect to be there.

a super basic example would be if i want to draw a banana, i don't want to just automatically reach for yellow bc bananas are yellow, i want to either look closely at the real banana i want to draw, and really try to see what colors are really there (which can be surprising tbqh), or if i'm not actually looking at a real one, then just try to pull in more color for the fun of it, like shading it with purple or blue maybe idk go nutso!

tl;dr i think i usually try to keep in mind

warm/cool color balance

complementary colors (altho tbh you can make any color combo look good, esp if you mess with warm/cool balance)

saturation (i keep a lot of things saturated, but also the contrast between saturation/desaturation can make the colors look more intense)

light and dark contrast

using tinted grays to imply a warmer/cooler color that contrasts with the main palette

color depth (shading with cooler and/or warmer variations of similar colors)

go nutso

[thelustybraavosimaid]

In the past fortnight the royal party had been in Winterfell, Aemon was not without either Robb or Arya.

The latter always promised him some grand adventure, and more often than not the two of them burned the day away by playing silly games in the godswood until they were breathless and sweaty and dirty and succumbed to laughing fits, or giggling to themselves as they nick hot fresh loaves of bread or scones from the kitchens, but this day was different.

Today she led him to Winterfell's glass gardens, and he inspected the outside of it. Panes of glass were wedged between the thick slabs of granite stone that matched the castle. Aemon had been told before that Winterfell had been built upon a system of hot springs that fed through the stone like blood pumping in a man's body, and that seemed to be the case here as well. Moisture misted the inside of the garden, and the silhouettes of the workers within were distorted and darker shades of the green and yellow of the glass panels. Utterly unbothered by the presence of others, Arya held onto his hand and led him to the door, the glitter in her grey eyes as she looked back a little promise of adventure.

Who was he to deny his cousin on her name day?

The prince passed the threshold, and was taken with the deceptive size of the inside. Rows of assorted trees, fruits, vegetables, and flowers were sectioned off. Cherries and apples and squash, tulips and blueberries and raspberries, much and more spanned the length of the area. Cooks were tending to the vegetables in one section. Baskets of various sizes were filled with carrots and leeks and onions. They spared them a furtive glance from time to time, but generally paid them no mind.

Two things truly caught him. The first was the scent of the room itself, familiar and comforting, though this was his first tour of the gardens. It was warm and earthy, and it hit him that this was the smell that clung to Arya's skin. Wind and water and freshly tilled earth, blended into one as if the gardens themselves formed her. He took a deep breath, relaxing.

The second was how hot it was in here. Not hot enough to stifle one's breathing, but warm enough for perspiration to dot his brow. But despite the sweat on his hand, Arya's grip was still on his, tight and sure, and he continued to follow.

The air was very sweet here, and they stopped before a little field of shrubs. Blackberries, he thought, his mouth watering. Did she know the fruits were his favourite? Some of the five-petaled flowers were still in bloom, while fruit bore in other spots—some pink and red, unripe and sure to be sour, while others still were dark and ready for picking. Arya filled her hand with those, and offered them to him with a shy smile.

Aemon scooped up half with eager greed and shoveled them all into his mouth, relishing the taste. He felt the liquid dotting the seam of his lips. This is not princely, he thought, unbidden as his tongue subconsciously darted out, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Arya's cheeks were puffed with fresh fruit and the juice was already staining her lips a deep purple, a stream threatening to escape further and down to her chin, and he wanted to laugh at the sight. It didn't help that one of the cooks chased them off, slow and lumbering, telling them that they needed those berries for pies.

She wiped her mouth with the back of the hand. "I want you to see the flowers," she declared, jutting out her chin in a stubborn pout.

He nodded his assent.

Arya led him to the section of flowers, the sweet smell mingling with earth.

"I love the smell of this place," she confessed. "The covered bridge where you can see the whole of the yard is my second favourite spot."

He quirked a dark brow. "You never told me that you liked flowers."

"Why would I bring you here if I hated flowers, stupid?"

"Because you enjoy spending time with me, little cousin. The longer the better." He snorted, following her as she named more. Red flowers, blue, pink and purple, the colours of the rainbow were on full display. She plucked a sweet-smelling blue flower and brought it to her nose before reaching to tuck it behind his ear. "You are holding me hostage with games and adventure because you know how impossible it is to deny you anything. I can see right through you, Arya."

"It's my name day!" A ghost of a smile traced her lips. "Why wouldn't I want to show you my favourite spots?"

He ruined her hair further with a ruffle. "And that's why I'm here, little cousin." Though I'd still be here even if it weren't your name day.

Aemon's gaze travelled until he spotted a rosebush off in the distance. Now it was him leading her somewhere; he inspected the bush until he found one to his liking. Smiling, he withdrew the little blade his queen mother had gifted him and sliced it off with ease.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity littered her voice. The smile was still plastered on his face when he slanted his head.

"As thanks for the berries, allow me to make something for you." He ran the blade down the stem, slicing a few thorns off before he looked back up at her, raising a brow. "Do you object?"

She sucked her lip between her teeth and chewed. He took her silence for acceptance, and so he continued his work.

As his fingers danced, he had launched into a tale of how the Queen Lyanna taught him the names of various flowers, and he had committed them all to memory—gillyflowers and poppies, dragon's breaths and thistles and everything in between until she eventually plucked a red rose for him. Back then, he had taken the petals off, one by one, carefully twisting the stem to impale them on the thorns to mimic the one she wore, but then she picked another one and showed him how to make a flower crown proper. The queen's hands were strong as she cut off the thorns and twisted and wove, feeding one and then another through the weave. By the time she had finished, there were four fat roses sturdily braided in a thick tangle of stems, one for each side.

And remember, her lilting voice softened as she put the crown on him, no one wants to be pricked by thorns, Aemon. Make sure you remove every one.

Lost in his memory, Aemon followed her old instructions until it was well-fashioned enough for him to rest it on Arya's head, the weight making it sink in dark tufts. Instead of one on each side, he had made a crown of three roses littering in the front.

"My mother was my father's Queen of Love and Beauty," he said absently. "Father says she does her duty well, but sometimes I think she prefers the first crown he gave her."

His hand found her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Was it just him or was she...glowing? He was caught by surprise, and he found himself watching her. Sparkling grey eyes, a pink flush to the cheeks, a rough tumble of dark hair in loose northern braids, a smile as wild as she herself...she is pretty.

Very pretty.

He broke from his thoughts with a blink and a cleared throat. "There," he said, straightening. "Now you are my Queen of Love and Beauty."

[crystallizedtwilight]

Hello!!!! I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I was just wondering if you’d be willing to share any of the inspirations or design choices behind your designs for various Shakespeare characters?

I’ve been a fan of your work for a while, and I was mostly just curious about how that process was for you? + Perhaps any characters who you found easier / more difficult to make designs for? Sorry for the long ask, I hope you have a good day/night!!!!

Sure! It will be quite long so I will put it under the cut:

My Designs for Hamlet:

[Reference Sheet]

Designing difficulty - Easy/Medium. I felt like I had a good vision of what I wanted these characters to look like since their personalities were all so distinct.

Hamlet - The platinum blonde hair is inspired by the the 1996 movie actor

Horatio - I designed Horatio to look very studious, since the first thing they do in the play is shove him out to talk to the ghost because he 'went to college' lol. I wanted him to have a soft, gentle, almost sad look to him, since we know what he will bear witness to

Ophelia - I designed Ophelia as a traditional goth because I figured if she was dating hamlet, as macabre/fascinated with death/moody as he is, perhaps she also had an interest in the beauty of darker aesthetics and subjects.

Laertes - As Ophelia’s brother, I wanted him to look very similar to her. He also has a canon fan club, so I tried to make him look quite dashing with his long, tied back hair.

Polonius - Goth dad

Rosencrantz - In the play, everyone keeps mixing up Rosencrantz and Guidlenstern so I wanted to design them both in a way that was extremely similar. I did this by switching the color palettes of their hair and eyes so they look somewhat different...but it might take you a moment to remember which is which.

Guildenstern - See above

Gertrude - Honestly I had just finished designing Sonia’s mother and that “older royal woman” hairstyle was still on my mind lol

Claudius - I think I had Théoden on my mind at the time

Fortinbras - His green eyes and curly hair are based on the 1996 movie actor, but I tried to make him look slightly more modern with his haircut and earrings

--

My Designs for a Midsummer Night’s Dream (Fairies):

[Reference sheet]

Designing difficulty - HARD. I redid Oberon's color scheme, like, 3 times. I wanted to design versions I had never seen before and that was not an easy task.

I am quite pleased with how these designs turned out as they took a lot of thought, are 100% original (uninspired by any play or movie version), and turned out pretty much how I'd hoped!

Titania - Colors Based on a rosy maple moth. I wanted her to be etherial but have something memorably absurd about her, hence, how I came up with the idea that spites hold up her hair so it does not collect leaves on the ground. Looking back, the one thing I think I would change would be the shape of her wings. I designed her before I designed Oberon, so I wish I had given Titania wings that matched the rosy maple moth's shape and let Oberon be the sole design with the luna moth shape.

Oberon - Based on a Luna moth

Puck - Based on a roseate skimmer. I wanted to design Puck in a way that was different from any version I had ever seen. Many performances give him an earthy color palette with many browns and greens and I wanted something totally different.

--

My Designs for Romeo and Juliet:

These designs are all simply based on the actors from the 2010 French musical. I exaggerated them a bit, such as making Mercutio’s hair purple, but all in all they are meant to represent the designs of the actors in this particular performance.

--

My Designs for Macbeth

[Reference sheet]

Lady Macbeth - I based her long, red hair on the 1971 movie actress

Macbeth - idk I just made like the most generic Macbeth ever lol, I don't really plan on drawing him again so I was lazy

--

Much Ado about nothing

[Reference sheet]

Designs loosely based on the actors in the 1993 movie

[waste-lit]

Amafray, Wiggins, and the Owl Bear

Amafray and Wiggins slowly crept through the grass towards the massive pine in the middle of the clearing. It’s needled branches high above them stretched out over the field providing strips of shade in the hot summer afternoon. Wiggins moved silently and the sound of grass brushing against Amafray’s leather jerkin seemed absurdly loud in comparison. As they came closer to the tree, its giant roots snaked through the dirt around them, leading to the great trunk. Gaps in the roots formed crevices, easily large enough for the two adventurers fit through. Amafray motioned towards Wiggins to follow her into one of the crevices.

Inside the crevice was a maze of tunnels and openings formed by the tree’s roots. It was cooler in the tunnels, and most of the light from the harsh midday sun was blocked out. The smell of earth felt calming. They came to a fork in the tunnel and Amafray stood for a moment, looking between her options.

“Don’t tell me we’re lost,” said Wiggins.

“We’re not lost.” Amafray extended her arm and pointed to the tunnel to the left. “It’s this way.”

The resumed walking and turned down the left passageway. The earthy smell turned musky, the smell of a large animal. Wiggins didn’t need Amafray to tell him that they were getting close.

Amafray turned a corner, then stopped. Wiggins saw in front of her was a large nest, approximately three meters in diameter; made of grass, fur, and feathers. In the center of a nest lay what they had came for. Curled on its side sleeping was an owl bear cub. It’s downy feathers flittered gently as it breathed softly.

“Careful, don’t wake it,” Amafray whispered as they watched the cub’s side rise and fall.

Wiggins took a step forward. The owl bear cub didn’t stir.

“What are you doing?” Amafray asked under her breath as she shot him a warning glare.

“Just think of what we could get on the exotic pet market for this!” Wiggins reached the cub and bent down.

“Don’t!” Amafray stepped forward to stop him, but it was too late. Wiggins picked up the cub and held it in his arms. It looked up at him sleepily and then opened it’s beak, a shrill cry emitting.

“Fuck, you’ve killed us now,” said Amafray. “Just wait until-”

Amafray broke off, staring behind Wiggins. He turned around. Filling the entrance to the den was an adult owl bear, monstrous in size. It opened its beak and screeched before lunging towards Wiggins, and he leaped to the side to avoid its pointed talons.

“Holy shit-” Wiggins clutched the cub tighter as the mother owl bear reared up to pounce again.

“Let go of the cub!” Amafray was hurriedly mixing a pinch of sand into a vial filled with a swirling purple liquid.

The owl bear landed down over Wiggins. He held the cub in one arm and a short sword in his other, trying to guard his delicate face and neck. The owl bear roared in his face and spittle speckled his bare skin. He tried to wriggle free, but the owl bear’s paw on his shoulder kept him prone. The owl bear dug her talons through Wiggins’ leather armor into his flesh and muscle. Blood trickled down his front. He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from calling out. The owl bear lifted its other paw and went to make a swiping motion, but as it lifted its great paw, Amafray threw the purple vial and hit the owl bear’s feathered head, and it broke open, splashing the potion against its face. The owl bear blinked, then lowered its paw, swaying on its feet. Then suddenly, it collapsed into a heap on top of Wiggins. Deep snores sounded from the creature. The owl bear cub chirped, slipped out of Wiggins’ grip, and went to snuggle into its mother’s side. Wiggins groaned under the weight of the owl bear.

“It’s a sleeping spell,” Amafray explained as she rushed over to drag Wiggins out from under the bear. He grunted as he got up to his feet and brushed himself off. He stank of musk and red stained his jerkin.

“I saved your life idiot, now you’ve got to say you love me,” Amafray teased.

Wiggins’ face flushed. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then tell me you like me,” Amafray said, smiling.

“I’m not saying that either.”

Amafray sighed. “Well, we should leave now before she wakes. She won’t be happy.”

Wiggins nodded in agreement, thankful that she did not point out his burning cheeks and ears, and the two of them returned to the maze of tunnels. Amafray moved ahead with ease, barely pausing when coming to a fork. Soon there was a bright light that grew as they approached, and then they burst out into the clearing. Amafray took out a canteen that smelt strongly of booze and took a long sip.

“Amafray?”

“Mm-hm?” She continued drinking, the canteen against her lips.

“I like you,” Wiggins said, blushing so hard that he looked sun burnt.

Amafray put down the canteen and smiled. She was pretty, in her own way, Wiggins thought. “I like you too.”

For a moment they stood in silence. “Want to hit up Old Glass Eye’s Tavern?” Amafray asked.

“Love to,” Wiggins grinned and the two of them headed back to town.

[nataliescatorccio]

I feel sooo compelled to ask you how you choose your color palettes. I've always wondered this but after that last crows gifset, I can't take it anymore 😂 do you just pick them on a whim, or do you use color palette generators? they always look so beautiful and I know you get told this on the daily but I envy your ability to make any color combination look good and I need to know your secret for coloring picking.

firstly, beck thank you for being so kind and complimentary ❤️ i'm not sure it's so much a secret though as me just messing around and seeing what comes together! a lot of the time when i'm thinking of what colours to use for a set i will just look at the scene i'm using and see what colours pop out for me. usually i'll do my base colouring and something will stand out, and that will create the basis for my colour palette. let's take this crows outfit set i did this week as an example, these palettes just sort of formed from what colours i felt stood out in their costumes, and so i adjusted the backgrounds around that. so the palettes i ended up using were very personal to them, but i also think there was a lot of work in costuming to get cohesion between the characters (e.g. they all have quite earthy tones somewhere in their outfits) that i could accentuate myself for the gifset.

with that said, sometimes i do use colour palettes to get ideas, but i usually use them once i have an idea of at least one colour i want to use rather than going in blind. so let's just take this nina/inej set for example, i knew i wanted to use purple because as i was working on the first gif, there were a lot of blue accents that could easily be manipulated to purple (and i would always recommend trying to look for colours that stand out in your og scene, because it just makes colouring so much easier too if you can manipulate what's already there). but i didn't really know what i wanted my overall vibe to be, so i just put 'purple colour combos' into my good old search engine and i got a lot of palettes and pictures with purple as a main focus that i could chose from. ultimately i found this one which had a lot of sunset vibes which i really liked and so i decided to roll with using the first three shades in the gifset:

also sometimes i just get inspired by random things in day-to-day life. like absolutely years ago i remember seeing a picture of meghan markle wearing red and purple and i was like 'daaaamn i wanna use that colour combo in a gifset so bad'. which is so random but i think we're surrounded by colour combos day in day out via fashion and advertising and media, so sometimes i just get inspired by other outlets! it probably does help that i love colour matching, but there's also a lot of outlets that can help you think about how to pair colours together to create something special. anyway, i really hope that provides some helpful tips! good luck color picking!

[fluffs-palace]

Im bored at work so give me all your mcs their favourite foods and colours.

x

Questions 5 & 6

Favorite Food and Favorite Color

Lyari

Selasi's pumpkin bread can be beaten out by no other in his eyes. Just like you can't out pizza the hut, you can't out pumpkin bread the baker.

Their favorite color changes every week. On one day itll be purple, the next itll be red.

Marsom

He loves a good borscht but only when he makes it. He's had others but they just dont quite add up. Plus there's always that satisfaction of making it yourself. Sourcing the ingredients, slaving over the stove, adjusting the spices, playing it by ear every time, etc.

His favorite color is a mix up between green and teal. He can't quite decide.

Osanna

None honestly. If she really had to pick then she'd supposed pasta would be the lesser of the evils. It goes down easy, yknow?

Pink is her absolute favorite. Has been since she was a little girl. Even with her memory loss, she chose it time and time again.

Samuel

He had already loved Mazelinka's soup when he'd first gotten his hands on it. She could be brash, sure, but it felt like it was made with love... but then Julian and Portia took him to Nevivon. He'll swear to the day he dies that Mazelinka's is the best, but he's been craving the soup they made there ever since that trip.

Purple! He loves how well it goes with his hair.

Seli

It might be a little basic, but she really likes salads. They're easy to take with her places. Versatile in taste. You can add basically anything. Portia makes some mean garden salads too from her harvests.

[TBD because she has been the hardest for me to figure out a color scheme for 🥲]

Tai

They can't get enough of a fresh vegetable or fruit. Anything that was grown with love and care. Their favorite favorites, though, are the root vegetables. So much earthy flavor! Oh, you want a specific answer? You can't possibly make them chose!

Call them boring or say its not a color, but they love white. Yeah, thats the color of the only clothes they've had, but it just goes with everything!

Vaura

Having to travel so much, they can't say they really have a favorite. Mostly its just field rations. If you were to ask them they'd say "Jerky?" and leave it at that.

Just like their love, gold is a must have. It's their favorite after all. Why skimp on it?

[dogueteeth-fhr]

Unusual Muse Associations

Thanks for the tag @silvery-bluish !! ❤️

I'll tag @wonda-fhr , @ladyshivs , @antigonick , and @autistic-sidestep ! No pressure to participate if you don't want to :) Would love to see anyone else's answers too, tag me if you'd like me to see!

Cerrísa Becerra

Fallen Hero

Seasoning

Turmeric and Anise

Weather

Foggy and overcast, with the heavy scent of rain lingering in the air, though it has yet to fall. You're not sure if it will until the sun is down.

Colors

Earthy browns and dark, vibrant reds, moss and sage green and hues that are shadows of what they should be.

Sky

Winter skies with silver clouds, the sun rising bright and strong, gold and sulphuric and just strong enough to feel like warm fingers on skin.

Magical Power

Telepathy!

Plant

Purple Dead Nettle, or some sort of Fern of Pine Tree? Maybe a wildflower

Weapon

Her mind, her surroundings, her tongue. You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar...

a ball can be a weapon, too

Subject

Canine Behavior, Philosophy, Earth Sciences and Biology, the Arts

Social Media

Has stolen Danny/Ricardo's phone to scroll for cute dog pics and find godawful memes she can superimpose Spoon on to send them to Chen

Makeup Product(s)

Nail Polish is the only one that's always felt comfortable. Sometimes a bit of eyeliner, concealer, and eye shadow is ok too, but reserved almost exclusively for special occasions.

Candy

Gummies! Sour Haribo Coca-Cola gummies and peach gummy rings or strawberry marshmallow gummies! She also loves any kind of sweet involving bits or chunks of real fruit.

Fear

Being seen and deemed unworthy, being used and tossed aside when her purpose has run its course, when her value no longer holds the same thrill. A dog returned to the shelter, an old photo tossed in the garbage.

Ice Cube Shape

Smooth cubes, just a few, not too small and not too large

Method of Long-Distance Travel

The bus, when her shields are strong. A brainwashed cab driver, for a hurry. When her shields are fraying and she's overstimulated, walking downtown is the only safe way to go.

Art Style

Baroque, Expressionism, Symbolism, maybe?

Mythological Creature

The Beast of Gévaudan strikes me first.

Piece of Stationary

A swivel chair, old and used, one a sane person would have gotten rid of a long time ago. But the cushion is stitched and the joints are oiled, the surface is clean and duct tape holds together what once-sturdy engineering cannot. It is old, and it is loved. Not in danger of being retired any time soon.

Three Emojis

🐕🟠🫀

[fio-renze]

Director Mirthstar’s office was full of a myriad of magical things, a grand, ornate desk fitting of her station in the Violet Citadel and an overly inflated air of importance. It was familiar in an uncanny, palette swapped sort of way. Fiorenze had been here before, in a different city and circumstance. Aradana was not the Grand Magister, she never would be, but there was enough of a similarity between the many years of her life that she spent in service in Silvermoon that set her teeth on edge and left a bad taste in her mouth.

As soon as the door had closed she felt trapped. Aradana casually went to the bar cart and fixed them both a glass of wine, comfortable enough to leave her back to her guest. If she had been anyone else, the way that the director positioned her body just enough to block her line of sight on the glasses and bottles would’ve passed notice — but she had been the Grand Magister’s spy on other Silvermoon court nobles for decades. 

Fiorenze smiled blithely as Aradana handed her a glass of red wine, playing to her personal strengths in deception, “Wine at this hour? You’re certainly treating me well.” 

“Of course! You’re my guest, and we’re friends are we not? It’s not often I get to treat someone like this,” the director swept her purple robes behind her as she had a seat in her chair, settling her own glass down on a marble coaster. “It’s a fine vintage from Lordaeron, pre-fall of course,” the Quel’dorei woman’s own smile was charming as she nonchalantly gestured back toward the re-corked bottle. 

She recognized herself in Aradana, too. Somehow the other woman had lucked into enough promotions to be here, there were strings to pluck and pull to figure out exactly what the point of all of this was — no doubt the director would be trying the same. Fiorenze lifted the glass to her nose, the rich, fruity and earthy scent of the wine hit her immediately, with a secondary and extremely faint saccharine and soapy note lingering just behind that would’ve been more difficult to notice before her time with the Starweaver. That explained the need for the stronger vintage at this hour. Her eyes flicked up to watch Aradana’s face as she took a polite, if slightly too deep drink. 

Aradana, to her credit, did not react beyond having a sip from her own glass, “Human wines are, truly, a bit acidic for my taste. I’m glad for a more neutral world again, having access to Eversong trade in a more robust way is good for me,” she laughed at her own joke before settling her glass back down so she could lean forward, elbows on her desk, “I’ll admit some surprise that you decided to declare citizenship here; your ties to Dalaran aren’t nearly as strong as your sister’s, but I suppose that will be to our benefit long term, no?” 

Fiorenze hummed, relaxing in a subtle show of accepting the pretense of friendship and geniality in a way that let her rest a hand out of sight, against her own leg so she could covertly cleanse the poison she’d been served out of her system. “Shouldn’t they be? After all, both of my parents were professors here for quite a long time by the city’s standards. I’ll admit I was pleasantly surprised to hear you’d become director! We weren’t the best students, you and I.”

“If I recall you only passed because your parents were professors. We can’t all marry up, and sometimes following the whims and wishes of your family can set you back centuries. You’re going to be so much more successful making your own way now, I think, especially if we’re able to get you out of that sad little flower shop,” Aradana sighed and rested her fingers on the base of her wine glass so she could push it around and swirl the deep red liquid around. 

Fiorenze had another sip of her wine, trying to suss out exactly what the dose was before subtly cleansing it out once again. Whatever it was likely was meant to kill her by the end of the day. How long had Aradana been double dealing with both Dalaran and Silvermoon? “I passed because my little sister is smarter than I am and was willing to help me. Just as I’m sure you’d like to be able to help me with my job prospects. After all, before I resigned from the Magistry, the Grand Magister himself offered me the upcoming directorship there.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie; he had offered her a role that would eventually set her up for the title down the line. That gave Aradana some pause, “Did he? And you didn’t take it?”

“It wasn’t going to make me happy. Are you happy doing the work you do, director? Does this,” Fiorenze gestured around at the office and its fripperies, “bring you joy? The work I did for the Magistry never did. The flower shop is simple, but it makes me happy.” 

Aradana smiled again, the underlying pity in her expression not lost on Fiorenze. The other woman absolutely thought she was going to be dead later, and so much for being happy at a flower shop, “Is this your way of telling me you’re not interested in the job?” 

“I suppose it is, now that I’ve had time to think about it,” the poison had certainly helped make the decision a bit easier. She smiled and set her mostly empty glass on Aradana’s desk, ignoring the available coaster off to the side before standing and smoothing her dress out, “I sincerely hope you find a good candidate, though.” 

Aradana waved a hand, using magic to open the door so that Fiorenze could show herself out, “I imagine we will. Shame it won't be you.”