#the art of a lemon wedge

[lemon-wedges]

Just bread today

[heavendraven]

thinking about him again

[lazyworksinprogress]

The art of the pivot or "when life gives you lemons" monologue as performed by Roderick Usher - The Fall of the House of Usher, episode 3 "Murder in the Rue Morgue"

"One thing I tried to teach them, the art of the pivot. When life hands you lemons... first you roll out a multimedia campaign to convince people lemons are incredibly scarce, which only works if you stockpile lemons, control the supply, then a... A media blitz. Lemon is the only way to say "I love you," the must-have accessory for engagements or anniversaries. Roses are out, lemons are in. Billboards that say she won't have sex with you unless you got lemons. You cut De Beers in on it. Limited edition lemon bracelets, yellow diamonds called lemon drops. You get Apple to call their new operating system OS-Lemón. A little accent over the "o".

You charge 40% more for organic lemons, 50% more for conflict-free lemons. You pack the Capitol with lemon lobbyists, you get a Kardashian to suck a lemon wedge in a leaked sex tape. Timothée Chalamet wears lemon shoes at Cannes. Get a hashtag campaign. Something isn't cool or tight or awesome, no, it's lemon. Did you see that movie? Did you go to that concert? It was effing lemon. Billie Eilish, OMG, hashtag... lemon. You get Dr. Oz to recommend four lemons a day and a lemon suppository supplement to get rid of toxins 'cause there is nothing scarier than toxins. Then you patent the seeds. You write a line of genetic code that makes lemons look just a little more like tits and you get a gene patent for the tit-lemon dna sequence, you cross pollinate, you get those seeds circulating in the wild, and then you sue the farmers for copyright infringement when that genetic code shows up on their land.

Sit back, rake in the millions, and then, when you're done, and you've sold your lem-pire for a few billion dollars, then and only then, you make some fucking lemonade."

[midnigtartist]

Redrew that one super cute piece of concept art for @lemon-wedges 💛

[biggie-chcese]

3 and 10? (for the ask game)

3. a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

desuhiko for sure. the source material doesn't do him a whole lot of favors but god the things fandom does with him and also pushes his more positive traits to light (more often than canon does) turned me from "neutral desuhiko tolerator" to "desuhiko enjoyer." kudos to yall, desuhiko fans. extending this to zilch as well because the memes around him are funny.

10. a blog (mutual or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter

god there's so many. it feels so unfair to just list one. imma say for tgaa, definitely @destructix, @lemon-wedges, @hikari-kaitou, @r0ttengrapes, @mikomikono, @endlexina, and @heavendraven. there's more but off the top of my head, these guys have made me actively excited to be in the tgaa fandom. y'all rock

for rain code, @alfiely-art, @rararazaquato, @pixelatedraindrops, @hopelilies, and @loremaster are all folks im love seeing in the tag and enjoy overall. of course, there's more but i'd be here all day if i listed em all haha.

i love it here, truly. thank you for asking! <3

[artastic-friend]

Hihihi

Dragon March has wedged into my brain

So have this

I don't claim to know what I'm doing when it comes to dragons but they're close enough to my usual subjects ponies that I'm proud of it

I tried to make them super fluffy bc I love a fuzzy dragon

YEAAA!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone look at this awesome art aaaaraewrraeaeea!!!!^^^^

I love it so much😭😭✨ thank you!!!

Also ayo??? Pony art?? :D

I love drawing ponies too eeeyeyeyahhshde

I have a MLP Sona too, they're a Kirin named Marble! 😁

And I also have two lesbian Pony ocs!!!

They don't have official names, but I call them either Swirls and Limone, or Swirly Pop and Lemon Breeze, can't decide which names I prefer lol

But hell yeah! Draw those ponies man! Draw them with pride! Be cringe, be free!💖💖💖

[moss-fuzz]

Updating designs for art fight > : ) Their link

(ID: A illustration of a teal croc character that is sliced into wedges. Their insides looks like a lemon -ID End)

[kindheart525]

It was a great night to be out on the town on this Friday night. Ponies were bustling with activity, some going home after a long week of work and others finding a little fun to kick off their weekends. Either way, for many it was a night of fun, or at least relief.

Three young stallions were having a bit of fun of their own. Freshly starting their EMT training, they were seriously devoted to their work, but still undisciplined thrill-seekers like many their age. EMT school was a lot of work so they needed a way to unwind, which the three buddies were doing well as they stumbled out of a pub.

“Did I kill it at karaoke or what?”

One of the stallions, Lemon Wedge, bragged while making finger guns with his wings and jokingly acting like he was hot shit.

“Killed everypony’s ears, maybe!”

His friend Swift Valor retorted. They’d been hanging out for long enough that this was lighthearted banter and not a genuine insult. 

“I dunno, there was that one lady who was watching you all night!”

The third stallion, Golden Opportinity, added.

“Those pipes could get you a date!”

“Aww yeah!”

Lemon pumped his hoof and the three of them erupted into uproarious laughter. They were all rather tipsy, not enough to get into too much trouble but definitely enough to be a bit unaware of their surroundings. A passing couple shot them a glare for disturbing their night, but they hardly noticed.

They were wandering the streets pretty aimlessly until Lemon stopped in his tracks.

“Guys, it’s like, 9pm. What are we doing?”

“Going home?”

“Why, to feed your weasel?”

The other two stallions started snickering but Golden became defensive.

“Noodle is a ferret! And yeah, I gotta be responsible and shit!”

“Didn’t you call your sister or somepony to do that? You’re already being responsible.” 

Swift wasn’t particularly concerned about the ferret, but he did want his friend to stop worrying so much and have fun with him. Even through the buzz he was able to use logic to convince him to let loose.

“Oh yeah!”

Golden carried on following his friends, his hesitation quickly dissolved.

The three stallions continued down the street, bantering and looking around for something to do. Most places on this Canterlot street were too stuffy and frou-frou for their tastes, so their options were already limited.

“What about that place?”

Swift pointed out a storefront that stood out from the rest. It was just as fancy and refined, but the outside decorations had more of a whimsical quality to them, it was unique.

“Isn’t that like, the psychic place?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s probably a big scam but we’re messing around anyway, we’ll just see what it’s about.”

“Yeah, sure, we got nothing better to do.”

His friends murmured in agreement and proceeded to follow him in.

“Not like anything will come of it.”

*****

Prophecy had been running her shop for a good while now and it was everything she dreamed of and more. The space was small but it was hers, a place to harness her powers on her terms and connect with ponies who needed her help. She planned her schedule so she wouldn’t be overworked at all, so she could actually enjoy her gift.

On Friday nights she had a few evening hours to catch the early-weekend crowd, but now it was getting late and she was closing up her shop for the night. Until the doorbell jingled and several ponies came in for her services.

Great.

Prophecy was usually pretty patient, but she was always irritated by ponies who came in at the last minute. Her hours were right on the door! Oracle was a serious art, it wasn’t like going into a store and picking up a few last-minute gifts.

But she came out of her office with a pleasant smile on her face, greeting the guests with the same politeness as always.

“Welcome! How are you doing tonight?”

The three stallions stood around her shop, looking around as if in a daze. She’d decorated her space to have a dream-like quality. but she didn’t think it’d make ponies actually think they were dreaming. But they were swaying slightly and mumbling like they were drunk. That explained it.

She recognized one of them from her foalhood days, calling him out to get his attention.

“Hello, Swift! It’s nice to see you!”

“Oh! Prophecy!”

Swift snapped out of his stupor, having been quite disoriented entering this more serene space after trotting among the bright lights and bustling energy of the city.

“You work here?”

“Dude, you know her? Is she your girlfriend?”

His friends started laughing at him as he quickly shot a glare at them.

“Shut up! We just went to school together.”

He turned back towards Prophecy, leaning on her desk as casually as he could manage.

“Are you here for a fortune?”

She cocked an eyebrow, a bit peeved that these guys didn’t appear to be taking her space or her time seriously.

“Damn, I can’t believe you’re still into this oracle shit.”

Swift chuckled wryly, not mincing his words very well. This only made Prophecy even more annoyed.

“Shit?”

“Yeah—I mean, no—like, it just never made sense, you know? You predict stuff with data and facts, and like, observing the world around you. Not magic. It kinda seems like you’re getting paid to read the weather report.”

Prophecy didn’t remember Swift being quite this stuck-up as a kid but she didn’t like it one bit. She’d dealt with her fair share of skeptics, but this one especially grinded on her nerves. He knew her just enough that what would be annoying banter felt like a personal insult.

“Well, this is literally my cutie mark, so it’s real whether you can wrap your head around it or not.”

She retorted.

“Yeah, but it could have been a coincidence! You always believed in fairy tales even when you were too old.”

“And I watched you cry so hard you threw up because Eru wouldn’t share his little blue wagon with you. You were almost 10. So I guess we’re even.”

“OHHHH!”

Swift’s friends screamed as his face grew hot with embarrassment, and for a moment Prophecy felt a petty sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t usually in her nature, but it was just too easy to put him in his place.

“Fine, fine.”

He tried to save face, cooly tossing a few bits over to her.

“Give us some predictions, and if they come true, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Deal.”

She agreed to satisfy him, though she really didn’t care about convincing stubborn ponies.

Then she turned to the other two stallions.

“What are your names?”

Lemon Wedge and Golden Opportunity mumbled out some introductions, and Prophecy immediately got to work. She inspected each stallion closely, taking note of every minute detail in their mannerisms. Then she took a box out from under her desk, filled with all of her best supplies.

“Bro, what’s she doing?”

They began to whisper amongst each other as she shuffled through her things, her mind firing off with visions of what was in store for these stallions.

It wasn’t good.

“Golden Opportunity.”

The stallion quickly stood up straight at his name, Prophecy’s voice holding such authority that for a moment, he almost believed in her. Just an instant.

“Your life may seem golden now, but it will not always be so. One day soon, you will lose a dear friend and you will have to learn to stand on your own.”

She placed a small glass figurine of two ponies on her desk, symbolizing close bonds.

“Lemon Wedge.”

For the next stallion, she held up a deck of playing cards.

“You’re a go-getter. You take risks. But too much of this will be your downfall. If you do not rein yourself in, you will suffer great losses.”

The pegasus rolled his eyes at her but she didn’t see it, quickly turning to face the smug visage of Swift Valor.

She was ticked off at all of them, but she wasn’t making their fortunes bad on purpose. She was just interpreting the visions she had. But staring at Swift’s cocky smile, she wanted nothing more than to see it wiped off his face. For him to see the truth.

“Swift Valor, you regard yourself with as much value as your possessions are worth; it has always been this way. If you do not humble yourself, you’ll find yourself dispossessed and with a cracked ego.”

To demonstrate, she held up a cheap bar of fool’s gold and smashed it on her desk, doing so with a bit more vigor than her job called for. She was really going for the dramatics.

His friends were a bit startled by this, but Swift just nodded nonchalantly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know when that happens, if it does.”

He started making his way for the door, his friends trailing after him.

“Nice to see you again, Prophecy. Tell Eru and your moms I said hi, alright?”

Though he bid her farewell like an old friend, his attitude leading up to that moment completely soured it for Prophecy. But she didn’t spend any time dwelling on it, she moved right on with her life and started cleaning up. They weren’t her problem anymore, whether they believed her was their perogative.

But the predictions didn’t lie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Plain Sight Next (for Swift): Broken Mirror Next (for Prophecy): Iconoclast

[okeanosornamentalgraphics]

Larry, Larry, Oh So Extraordinary

“Afternoon, Larry! Your usual, I presume?”

“Hello, Moe. And yes, please.”

“Comin’ right up!”

Larry slid into his seat, setting his briefcase down onto the floor beside his feet. He let out a sigh, it was identical to the other sighs he let out every workday. And the sighs he normally let out while placing himself down at the counter were of content. He considered the Treasure Eatery as his safe haven. The constant low humming of the bustling restaurant was a pleasant experience for him, and the scent of aged wood and cooked food brought him comfort whenever he set foot inside the warm building. However, this particular sigh was for another reason. And because she had mastered the art of decrypting the different pitches of his sighs and what they meant, Moe instantly caught up on it.

“That doesn’t sound like a happy sigh,” she slid him a fresh plate of grilled rice balls, complemented with two slices of lemon. One minute and forty seconds, she was quicker than last time. “Everything goin’ alright? Besides the usual office woes, of course.”

Larry looked down at the golden triangles before him, instantly feeling his mood lift a smidge. Food. Food was always a good thing. Food was always there for him. Food never disappointed him. Food made him happy.

“Well,” he began, wedging a lemon slice in between his fingers and spritzing his rice. “You know how the Pokémon League has been scrambling for the past month to find suitable candidates for the Elite Four, since all the previous ones resigned?”

He didn’t need to say any more. “No way, you got promoted?!”

He snorted, taking his first bite and chewing thoughtfully. “More like forced. I don’t know what on Earth my boss was thinking recommending me. I’m just an average guy from Medali who likes to eat, I’m nothing worth nominating over.”

Moe swat the air, eyeballing the wok of frying vegetables to her left. “Oh, don’t be like that, Larry! You’re known as the ‘Exceptional Everyman’ around here! We didn’t give you that title for no reason!”

Larry hummed as he finished off the first rice ball and went to the other one. “And I still don’t quite understand why you all insisted on giving me that title. Or why the League even demands that we submit titles in the first place.”

Moe scratched her forehead with her arm. “Think of it as a uniformity. I know how much you value consistency.”

He arched a thick eyebrow.

“You know how Gym Leaders in other regions have a title, or some kind of motto or phrase that describes their person or the type of Pokémon they specialize in, right?” She took a brief moment to finish up another dish of stir fry, setting the hot bowl onto the counter for the waitress to retrieve it.

“‘The Lightning Lieutenant’ in Vermilion,” and she stuck out fingers to count. “‘The Underground Boss of Driftveil.’ Hearthome’s ‘Alluring, Soulful Dancer.’ ‘The Person Who Makes Paths with Starlight’ in Anistar. The list goes on.”

Larry frowned, swiping away a grain of rice on his cheek. They all were much too complicated for his liking, and the last one felt nauseatingly over the top. Now “The Extraordinary Everyman” didn’t sound as bad as when he first heard it. A thought crossed his mind and he hummed.

“Gym Leaders in Alola don’t have titles,” he mentioned. The second shriveled lemon lay discarded in the corner of his plate.

“Unless you count ‘Trial Captain,’” she winked, cracking a couple of eggs into a skillet and scrambling them with a whisk. “It doesn’t have the same ring as the others, but a title’s a title.”

She had a point, he supposed. He was just glad he wasn’t the one who contributed to the creation of his title. He had the creativity of a blank sheet of paper, and he didn’t want to be bothered with spending any more of his depleting energy or fleeting time to come up with something.

“Another one, ‘Larry the Extraordinary?’” She chuckled as he ducked his head in between his shoulders.

“…Yes, please…” 

                                              ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

✪ This is just a little small snippet from a much bigger passion project I’m working on! 

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Writing done by me!

Illustration drawn by the amazing MsCMB_! <3

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

[cinamun]

miss lorelei for the backstory game 🥳

Went to art school for 1 semester and knows more about color theory than you think she does. very picky about who she dates. owns the entire Fenty Beauty collection. Only drinks coronas with a lime wedge stuffed inside. Has a contagious laugh. Side-eyes men in suits. Grew up in a military family, values discipline. Has a special toy. Studying marketing but hates the corporate machine. astigmatism in both eyes but her frame game is flawless. never eats at potlucks. dating is a chore and she hates it. Wants a man who doesn't spend more time getting ready than she does. has a pit bull named Tiny. she will never tell a secret, doesn't gossip but listens to it. has a photographic memory. makes a mean lemon meringue pie.

[comparativetarot]

The Magician. Art by Kim Thompson, from Divine Your Dinner.

DREAM IT, CONJURE IT.

Magickal Ingredient: Cinnamon Inspires self-mastery through connection with the Universe

You are the creator of your world. No matter your circumstances or resources, you have the ability to change your personal domain. Your power is an extension of the connection you have with the Earth and the Universe, these celestial bodies that all ultimately came from the same place as you. Call on these siblings when you need assistance aligning your experience with your ideals. Then, kick back with a glass of this Butterfly Pea Flower Cinnamon Gimlet and wait for the visions to come floating in.

Used as a magickal accelerator in many spells, cinnamon packs an energetic punch all on its own, activating your power as much as your taste buds. The stress-reducing properties of butterfly pea flower allow you to fully enjoy the awakening.

ADDITIONAL MAGICKAL INGREDIENTS: BUTTERFLY PEA FLOWER, LEMON

BUTTERFLY PEA FLOWER CINNAMON GIMLET COCKTAIL—MAKES 1 COCKTAIL

A classic gimlet is two parts gin, one part lime, and some simple syrup for good measure, shaken and served up. This is not a classic gimlet—it’s full of magick—and even though true magicians should never reveal their tricks, we’re gonna have to. Wait to add the lemon juice until after you serve it. The butterfly pea flower syrup reacts with the acidity and changes from electric blue to deep purple for a swirling tie-dye effect. Just serve the cocktail with the lemon on the rim of the glass and tell your friends to squeeze the juice and drop the rind into their drinks to watch the magick unfold!

HOT TIP: FOR A NONALCOHOLIC VERSION OF THIS DRINK, ADD 2 OUNCES BUTTERFLY PEA SYRUP TO AN 8-OUNCE GLASS, ADD ICE, AND TOP WITH CLUB SODA. DON’T FORGET TO SQUEEZE IN A WEDGE OF LEMON OR LIME TO CREATE THE MAGICK EFFECT.

2½ ounces gin ½ ounce Butterfly Pea Syrup (recipe follows) ¼ lemon, for serving

1. In a cocktail shaker, combine the gin and pea flower syrup. Add ice. Shake well to combine, about 30 seconds. Strain into a coupe glass. 2. Position the lemon wedge on the rim of the glass and give instructions to the recipient for squeezing in the lemon juice before drinking.

BUTTERFLY PEA SYRUP MAKES ABOUT ¾ CUP

2 cinnamon sticks 1 tablespoon whole dried butterfly pea flowers ½ cup sugar

1. In a small saucepan, combine ½ cup water, the cinnamon sticks, and butterfly pea flowers and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Once boiling, remove the pot from the heat and let steep for about 10 minutes, or until bright blue. Strain the liquid into a small bowl and discard the cinnamon sticks and pea flowers.

2. Return the liquid to the saucepan and stir in the sugar. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Remove from the heat and stir to make sure all the sugar has dissolved. Let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate to chill before using. Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 1 month.

BUTTERFLY PEA SYRUP MAKES ABOUT ¾ CUP

2 cinnamon sticks 1 tablespoon whole dried butterfly pea flowers ½ cup sugar

1. In a small saucepan, combine ½ cup water, the cinnamon sticks, and butterfly pea flowers and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Once boiling, remove the pot from the heat and let steep for about 10 minutes, or until bright blue. Strain the liquid into a small bowl and discard the cinnamon sticks and pea flowers.

2. Return the liquid to the saucepan and stir in the sugar. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Remove from the heat and stir to make sure all the sugar has dissolved. Let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate to chill before using. Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 1 month.

[lemon-wedges]

I lied. I realized I have to draw regular sollace first in order to figure out how to draw old man scollace :T

[thepaleelf]

GET TO KNOW ME. tagged by @wyllstariontruther 💛 thank u!!

three ships:

i’m not super into shipping like i used to be so i’m skipping this lol

last film:

hellboy 2004! i love me a guillermo del toro movie.

currently watching:

the bear, i just finished up season 1. also rewatching community but we mostly put that on for background noise during dinner.

currently reading:

dungeon meshi! the concept of a dungeon as a complete ecosystem is so cool, well written and i love the art. the cooking stuff reminds me of when i used to read the redwall series as a kid, reading about their food was my fav part.

currently consuming:

water 💧

currently craving:

haribo peaches 😔

@garbageboy-stinkman @lemon-wedges @alexanderdamnilton post with me

[werepires]

I posted 7,421 times in 2022

That's 1,552 more posts than 2021!

529 posts created (7%)

6,892 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@valleydean

@werepires

@lemon-wedges

@deanandkastiel

@deancrowleycas

I tagged 5,954 of my posts in 2022

Only 20% of my posts had no tags

#dw - 373 posts

#self reblog - 251 posts

#cats - 163 posts

#eurovision - 161 posts

#esc 2022 - 158 posts

#art - 157 posts

#lotr - 122 posts

#cockles - 117 posts

#doctor who spoilers - 99 posts

#answered asks - 97 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#you know what i saw this post earlier today and i was genuinely like ‘‘yea that checks out they probably would they’re insane like that’’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

5th of the month, time for a redraw

2,184 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

Your honour,,,,,,,,,,,

About time I made a proper illustration out of this one

2,270 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

#3

Cradlehisfacenatural

3,528 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#2

“I need you”

“I love you”

5,009 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

36,019 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ahsteria]

can we read the murder lesbians short story

!!!!! YES omg its under the cut <33 a little over 1k words and is one of my first attempts at creative writing would love if anyone read or gave feedback soooo much okk here it is

"define, desire":

To the outsider, Anna’s attention is failing. She sits alone at one of the library’s hexagonal tables, has turned the page maybe once in the past hour. What the outsider doesn’t understand, is that Anna's attention is an arrow with a string, sharp and resolute point embedded in its mark. It’s not her fault, really, how can she be expected to focus on East of Eden when God’s favorite angel is typing in her peripheral. Mari is wearing thin, silver framed glasses today, enlarging her already lamb-like eyes.  

Five months ago Anna’s mother passed, leaving her the pale yellow-painted estate and an ever-unsatisfied well wedged deep in her stomach, unrelenting thing. September was rain waving hello, through windows on slow train rides from Anna’s Brooklyn apartment to the quiet and innocuous woods of Seneca Falls. Her intention was never to stay, this was promptly ruined on a notably gray September Sunday: Anna subjected to tediously returning her late mother’s stack of overdue romance novels. Upon first glance, she mistook Mari for actual, inhuman art. It’s nice that the library is investing in the fine arts, she thought. Oh, oh but then the beauty blinked itself alive, flesh and blood, Pygmalion and Galatea. Silver-blonde hair ending at the dip of visible hip bones, her front strands framing those fucking doe eyes. When reading The Argonautica, she thought Jason's men stupid for being unable to resist the sirens’ call. She sympathizes with them now. Mari is desire personified, something sicker than yearning. Flesh and blood cannot look like that. Anna moved to Seneca Falls the following week.

Anna is not insane. She and Mari are friends. It began with books (Anna often watches Mari’s desk then purchases her current read from the local bookstore). Sometimes they’ll discuss art (Anna’s favorite pieces may, on common occasions, feature fair maidens with notably defined anatomy). Recently, they’ve been frequenting local events (she’s canceled three appointments now to attend said events with Mari). The two of them, in fact, went to the loveliest gallery opening last month and shared a slice of blackberry lemon-crème cake. Mari fed Anna a bite with her fork: a doubly bittersweet, indirect kiss. Mari mentioned a craving for it two days ago, red lips in a distracting, horrifying pout. So Anna, in a normal, nonchalant way, called the gallery with the intent of purchasing an entire cake. Tragically, she failed to locate the baker. The gallery was lucky enough however, to have a copy for allergy concerns, which was faxed over. Mari gifted her a kiss on the cheek for it yesterday: a bullet to rational thinking. And so, here is Anna, thinking about warm lips and delicate wrists and flushed skin as Steinbeck’s open pages collect dust. 

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

Mari has never been more beautiful than in Anna’s late-mother’s kitchen. It’s not the kitchen really, with its outdated black and white tiled backsplash, nor even the setting sun’s orange light placing a halo atop her head. It’s Mari suggesting they bake the cake together, Anna’s kitchen is bigger anyway, it’ll be nice, she had said. Suggested so casually, as if not filling Anna’s mind with sickly craving, sugarcoated daydreams.

The cake is cooling now, on the silver rack beside the knife block. They’re making frosting. It’s difficult for Anna to pay much care to anything besides the smear of buttercream on Mari’s forearm. She thinks of placing her mouth on it, saccharine skin. Mari smiles, full face, and it's then Anna realizes she’s been talking. 

“Sorry—missed that,” Anna says.

“Oh I just said the photo on your fridge, it’s nice,” Mari replies.

Mari is referring to a photo of her mother—loose brown curls and stress lines around the eyes, her smile is strained only slightly, it’s almost indiscernible. Anna is seated next to her, same strained smile but significantly less disguised. 

“Oh, thanks. That’s my mom, we took it over there.” Anna nods towards the blue velvet couch in the living room where they had then posed for the hired photographer. 

“Cute. You look like her.” Mari says. 

Soon the conversation moves to the new Margaret Atwood they’re both ‘coincidentally’ reading. The butter churns, loud and repetitive, like a third voice interrupting the discussion. Mari snacks on spare blackberries as they wait, her hands match Persephone’s, all stained red. 

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

It’s horrific, two toppling layers, collapsing under the weight of undoubtedly too much lemon buttercream; blackberries lazily clinging to swirled dollops. There’s a sheen to it, moonlight on the melting fat of the frosting. 

“It’s beautiful,” Anna quips. Mari laughs, taking a knife out of the block, eager to taste.

“It’s a scale model of the fucking leaning tower of pizza—” Mari says.

“You’re beautiful.” Anna interrupts, unable to help herself. Oh, she’s ruined it now. This was supposed to be a quiet, careful seduction—waves ebbing at rocks so slowly that the rock never realizes when exactly, it goes under. A sea stack.  

Mari’s eyes go big and pleased. She smiles, impossibly, wider.

Oh fuck, oh, oh fuck, Anna thinks. Does she know? Shit. Anna is sick, sick with want, poisoned by something carnal and consuming.

“You’re lovely,” Mari says, as if it’s simple.

She’s close, now, the warmth of her skin corporeal. The red nail polish of Mari’s fingers meets the cotton of Anna’s shirt. Anna gently claps her wrist, takes the knife out of her hand, a tentative touch. The whole thing is lovely really: the delicate press of bone against skin, Mari’s breath, soft against hers, and Anna’s knife, deep in Mari’s guts.

Desire: “to strongly wish for or want (something),” this “something” is undefined. Romance perhaps, sex, money, love, or, in Anna’s case, violence, flavored with sacrilege. When Anna first realized that Mari was not in fact, sterile art,  she was overcome with desire to kill something that is holy and also alive.  Mari is screaming, an angel’s chorus. Prey eyes thick with tears, the confusion of a calf raised by a butcher. Her blood is blackberry juice against buttercream, pouring out from the mouth, catching on the veins of her throat, pooling in her clavicle, then trickling back into the original wound in the stomach. Collapsing, strings cut, she fades into a beautiful lifelessness, ars longa vita brevis. Unrelenting hunger satisfied, Mari lies on the floor— Millais’ Ophelia. Anna is ecstatic, a bit in awe. She thinks herself a sort of artist, the corpse on the floor her undying masterpiece. High on ultimate hedonism, Anna notices blood splattered on the cake. She takes the frosting on her finger, metallic, sour, and too-sweet, it’s quite good. A shame, Anna thinks, that she never got to try a slice. 

[ormspryde]

Art fight attack I finished last night! I saw this character and immediately knew I had to draw them baking cookies lol.

Daiquiri belongs to https://artfight.net/~zanofarc

[ID: A digital painting of a tiger colored pink with deeper pink stripes and yellow and green highlights, with a strawberry, a wedge of lemon, and a straw on their head and wearing an apron and two oven mitts. In front of the tiger is a tray of cookies, steaming from just coming out of the oven. /ID]