pockets overflowing

🌊What the Water Gave Me Spell🌊

inspired by florence + the machine’s “what the water gave me”, a spell to help ease those overburdened by worries/anxieties they can’t control. not a substitute for trained help

So lay me down, let the only sound
Be the overflow, pockets full of stones
Lay me down, let the only sound
Be the overflow

🌊 gather: stones, lavender, sea salt, and coriander. 

🌊 mix herbs in the water, a tub or a sink. 

🌊 play the song while you perform the ritual, dance and sing along if you like.

🌊 for each issue/burden, create a representing sigil and draw it on a rock with something biodegradable.

🌊 if you are not willing to take a bath, fill a sink with water and simply submerge your hands instead.

🌊 submerge as much of yourself as is comfortable (not your face). think on the things that are holding you down. each time you bring your head/hands up, drop one of the rocks. do this until you hold none.

🌊 remain in the water a moment, feeling the weightlessness it gives you. 

🌊 take the rocks to a pond and leave them underwater. 

Witch Tip

Remember that witchcraft has no defined style. It can look like anything. It can look like elegant altars to gods and goddesses. It can be a messy kitchen full of drying herbs and fresh vegetables. It can be shelves brimming with books and journals. Or witchcraft can be small windowsills with crystals and plants. It can sigils hidden under furniture. It can be pockets overflowing with shells and stones. Witchcraft is personal and beautiful. Don’t let anyone or anything belittle your craft.

Hey Soulmate (Yugyeom x Reader)

A soulmate au where whenever you have a crush on someone, hearts will appear around you, in your pocket, on your bed, in the drawer, etc, and the hearts will increase whenever you’re near the person that you have a crush on. The number of hearts that appear also depends on how strong the crush is, and the color the hearts have different meanings – for example, light purple is nostalgic, dull yellow is jealousy, red is passion, etc.

A/N: I’m finally off hiatus! Feel free to send in requests my box is so dry

1316 words

After you saw Kim Yugyeom, the hearts wouldn’t stop.

You’d had crushes before, but this was almost ridiculous. You had to pick the small folded pieces of paper out of your hair multiple times throughout the day, clean your pockets out, and sweep the floor around your bed daily.

And you hadn’t even seen him in person. You’d only seen him in photos or videos through the Internet. It had started when you had stumbled across some videos by a group called Got7. The seven boys had captured your heart, and it showed. Hearts popped up everywhere, no matter where you were or what you were doing.

You were fairly sure that you weren’t the only person who had that happen, since Got7 were a fairly popular group. There would surely be countless fans who loved Got7 and Yugyeom in the same way you did.

What made these hearts really special was that you could see when the boys found someone they liked. Jaebum had been the first, with his hearts overflowing his pockets on an award show when he had been standing next to a very pretty female idol. BamBam was quick to follow, and since then, all of the boys had hearts show up at some point around them when they saw someone they liked.

Every one of the boys, that is, except Yuygeom.

No one quite understood why. Some people thought that he was exceptionally good at hiding them, or that he was crushing on some international pop star across the world, and they just didn’t show up as frequently.

But Yugyeom was quite certain he’d never had a crush on someone before. He would a felt it, or seen it, or something. When BamBam was complaining about having to dispose of the hearts he got around various female idols, Yugyeom secretly wished he could have a problem like that. In his mind it wasn’t even a problem. He wanted to have a crush on someone, but wherever he looked, he couldn’t find someone he thought was just right for him.

Because of this lack of hearts, people at fansigns were always hoping to be the one who caused Yugyeom to show his hearts for the first time. And every time that didn’t happen, Yugyeom had to deal with disappointed fans.

This happened with both Korean and international fans. Every time Got7 went abroad, Yugyeom hoped that some hearts would appear, but alas, none did.

You knew that your hearts would be overflowing when you arrived at Kcon that year. You had gotten passes to see Got7 and to meet them. You weren’t even embarrassed about the amount of hearts you had popping up around you when you got to the venue, because the floor was already littered with hearts of various colours. There were the usual red passionate ones, some pink ones for new friendships formed, dull yellow hearts that represented jealousy, and nostalgic purple hearts.

Finally, Got7 came up onstage. If you thought that the amount of hearts on the floor were too much before, now it was just ridiculous. As often as it happened, you never quite got used to the amount of love the boys received.

The boys went through their stages, and then it was time for the meet-and-greet portion of the meeting. Heart pounding, you made your way up to the left side of the stage to where Mark was talking with the fan in front of you.

You had memorized the order in which the boys were sitting. Yugyeom happened to be in the center of the line of boys, which meant you had to talk to Mark, Jaebum, and Jackson before you got to see your bias in person.

You approached Mark with a smile. He smiled back at you. “Hi. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you said.

Mark smiled and swiped the hearts off the table to sign something for you, engaging in conversation and holding your hand for a bit. You thought about how happy you were that this was happening to you.

Yugyeom stretched his neck and glanced down the line to the fans that were waiting. He caught sight of Mark talking to a fan, and for some reason, he felt an odd twist in his stomach. It was like he was sick. His hands got clammy and the room felt about a thousand degrees hotter.

As he swiped his hands on his jeans to calm himself down, he felt a lump in his pocket which he was certain hadn’t been there two seconds ago. Confused, Yugyeom reached into the pockets of his pants and pulled out… four yellow hearts.

Yugyeom stared at the small pieces of folded paper. He couldn’t believe they were there. He glanced back to Mark, but he couldn’t remember if the fan he was talking to now was the one he looked at earlier.

All of a sudden the realization hit him. He had a crush on someone. His heart sped up, but he was worried. He was at a fanmeet, with hundreds, maybe thousands of fans. How would he know which fan he liked? What if they had passed him already?

“Bro.” Yugyeom glanced up to see BamBam raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “You like someone.”

Yugyeom just nodded.

“Who did you look at?” BamBam prodded.

“I don’t know,” Yugyeom sighed miserably. “I can’t remember.”

“No stress man, you’ll find them.” BamBam said easily, turning to inform Youngjae of what happened.

“Is that your first heart?”

Yugyeom looked up and immediately felt that same twist in his stomach. It was you. The fan he caught sight of talking to Mark. “Y-yeah, it is.”

“Wow.” You sighed. Whoever Kim Yugyeom liked was a lucky fan. Your eyes fell to the tabletop, and your eyes widened. “Wow…”

“W-what?” Yugyeom looked to the table to see it piled high with red hearts. “Oh. Wow.”

“Are those…” You didn’t dare believe it. “Are those yours or mine?”

Yugyeom reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of red hearts, adding them to the pile on the table. “I, um, I think they’re mine.”

Your heartbeat sped up. Kim Yugyeom had a crush. On you. You could hardly believe it.

Yugyeom could hardly believe it either, but he was still concerned. What if you didn’t like him back? What if he wasn’t your favourite member? What if-

You pulled a handful of red hearts and, somewhat embarrassedly, added them to the pile. “I- I mean, mine are here too.”

If you had to describe Yugyeom at that moment, you would have said he was the sun. The smile that spread across his face could have lit up the dark side of the room. He grabbed a paper heart and scribbled something on it, handing it to you quickly.

You looked at it and realized he had given you his phone number. You smiled back at you before a security guard asked you to move along.

You looked helplessly back at Yugyeom, wanting to talk with him more, but you knew you couldn’t at that moment. Even though Yugyeom getting his first hearts and you two finding each other as soulmates was a big deal, it was still an event at Kcon with a schedule. Reluctantly, you moved along down the line, getting congratulations from the remaining boys.

The fanmeet had never gone so fast in Yugyeom’s life. After he got offstage, the rest of Got7 surrounded him, teasing and congratulating him about his crush on you. He had to continually sweep hearts out of his hair, fish them out of his pockets, and clear the space around him.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a text notification. As soon as he looked at his phone, the floor piled up with hearts.

There were only two words on the screen, from an unknown number.

Hey soulmate


There is SO much money on Ashley Madison. THIS WEEK ALONE I’ve gotten 5 dates and $1800 along with a brand new purse. Not to mention the expensive meals I’ve been treated to. I’ve been on the site for two weeks (older ladies will scoff buuuut) I get about 15-20 messages from new men each day. There are four guys that I’ve met so far that I wish to pursue an arrangement with, and have booked second dates with them. Never thought to go on AM until I saw a post here about it….and hot damn has it been working!LADIES THERE ARE MEN THERE THAT HAVE OVERFLOWING POCKETS, GO GET THEM!

Grocery Shopping


Ricky: “Rick, the freezer is full.” You tried again to shove the box of Hot Pockets into the overflowing freezer to no avail. After another minute of this Ricky came over to open the box, sticking each individual Hot Pocket into the freezer. You finished unpacking the last bag and went back to cooking dinner. You’d started hours ago but you’d run out of pasta and a few ingredients for the sauce, which turned into a full shopping trip. As you reach for the pasta your heart dropped. You frantically scanned the room but the only thing left to be put away was the box of fruit snacks Ricky was currently digging into. “Babe…” you groaned “We forgot the pasta.” Ricky froze. “Shit… well what else can we eat?” “Wha- No! I’ve already started the sauce and the chicken, if we don’t do pasta it’ll go to waste!” Ricky’s hand goes to his forehead, already dreading your answer. “So… we go back to the store?” You nodded solemnly “It’s the only way.” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath before pulling out his keys and heading towards the door, “Fine, but we’re also buying a notepad for the kitchen because I swear to god we’re never shopping without a list again!”
Chris: You winced as your boyfriend pulled you into the store. “But I don’t want toooo.” You hated Wal-Mart. The only time the two of you ever shopped there was was when you really needed something and everywhere else was closed. This was one of those times. “Babe, our fridge has two diet cokes and some ketchup. It’s either this or we don’t eat.” Sadly, this was true. Chris had just gotten back from tour and you’d been working all week, so your kitchen was baron. Chris loaded up the cart as you whined up and down the isles. “We could just get take out.” He snorted “Y/N I saw like 14 pizza boxes back there- you built a fort around the kitchen trash.” This was true, but it hardly seemed like an issue. “I’d rather live on pizza then stay in Wal-Mart for another minute.” Chris turned and smiled devilishly back at you. “Fine.” He said stepping back. “If you can get this and put it in the cart, we’ll call it good and go home.” He gestured to the same goddamn cereal you’d been reaching for when you first met- which was still on the top of the goddamn shelf. You looked your boyfriend dead in the eyes. “I hate you.” Chris just laughed as he grabbed your cereal from the shelf. “Next we need pasta.”
Ryan: “The store brand is a better deal as long as it tastes the same. Not even the same, it just has to taste good.” “Yup.” “But the store brand also has more calories and fat content, I mean neither of us are trying to lose weight but we should still eat healthy.” “Yup.” “Ryan,” You cried, swatting his shoulder with one of the boxes of mac n’ cheese you were holding, “you’re not being helpful!” Ryan tilts his head up, the rest of him still slumped over the cart’s handle bar. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, be helpful!” Ryan straightens up and pulls you closer “Babe,” he mutters as he plants a kiss on your forehead, “It doesn’t matter what brand mac n’ cheese we buy, just pick one.” You lightly swat at his chest, “Ry, that’s why you’re here! You know how indecisive I am, you’re supposed to help!” Ryan rolls his eyes and blindly takes one of the boxes from you and chucks it into the cart. “There, decided.” You smile up at him, “See this is why I need you.”
Vinny: “Ok,” you mumble checking things off your list, “next we need bread.” “And ice cream.” Vinny adds, “Oh and chips! I ran out yesterday.” “I thought we were going to start eating healthy. Remember we talked about broccoli?” “I can’t eat broccoli while gaming. I need snacks. Popcorn, Fruit by the Foot, Tostinos, Chips Ahoy, stuff you only need one hand to eat. And that actually tastes good.” You sigh looking down at your cart. It was filled with raw meats, vegetables, and any other fresh ingredients you could need for some great meals. However those meals would take hours of prep, and as delicious as they would be it would probably be just as satisfying to stick to corn dogs and pizza rolls. “Fuck it.” You’d given in. It’s probably cheaper this way anyway. “Alright new plan: I’m gonna put this crap back, you get another cart for the good stuff.” Vinny cheered as he ran off, and you crumpled your list, finally looking forward to your easy frozen dinner tonight.
Devin: “C’mon slow-poke,” you called as you started to skate away on the cart “Let’s get my Oreos and get out!” “That’s not even what we’re here for!” Your boyfriend ran up behind you and grabbed hold of the cart just in time to stop you from crashing into a display. It was 3am and insomnia had taken hold of you for the 4th night this week. Devin, once again woken up by your antics, decided it was time for the big guns. He steered you over to the pharmacy section and started loading the cart with melatonin, valerian root, Tylenol PM, and anything else that so much as had drowsiness as a side effect. You rocked back and forth on your heels as Devin compared two bottles. “You know what’d be great right now? Mountain Dew.” “Fuck. No. That’s the complete opposite of what we’re trying to accomplish here.” You groan and stomp your foot, exhaustion quickly bringing out your childish side.“Come on Dev, I’m bored, do you want me to be bored?” “I want you to be tired.” You sigh and let your eyes wander around the pharmacy. “Hey Dev, you know what’d make me really tired?” You coo. Devin looks up to see you tilting your head toward the condom rack. He can’t help but smirk. “Toss ‘em in the cart.”

Goddamn it I’m as bad as Yondu. I spent so much time resisting the “tiny cute plastic toys” trend but shit it caught up on me lmao. I’m now falling into the Tsum Tsum and Shopkins pit and shit if i dont think our good Trinket Hoarding Captain would do the damn same.

“Captain it is a tiny pink cake with a face”

Damned if he doesnt have his pockets overflowing with teeny plastic figurines at any given time. The first time Peter brought one onto the ship after checking out some Earth Imports, the package said “collect all 200 different color varieties and shapes!” And Kraglin immediately snatches it from Peter. Yondu cant see it, Yondu cant know. Kraglin will be dumped on terra (being able to pose as human) to collect them all, buying out stores everywhere. Kraglin CANT let Yondu find out terra is littered with collectable things of every kind. Because one day on Earth and he will have stolen so many toys, his capns bed wont even fit poor kraggles

At A Speed Dating Session

*crashes into the chair at the next speed dating table and grabs a handful of the complimentary peanuts and stuffs them into my already overflowing pockets.*
Hey so uh about me. I like to refer to every room as “this is where the magic happens” and think that every movie poster should always have the tag line “There goes the neighborhood” and before this goes anywhere, Yes I’ve cried twice at pop scare videos before OK but that’s in the past and is just a harsh reality we have to accept. Hi I’m jory I gotta go though it was nice meeting you I gotta go eat peanuts.

okay but Painter!Harry + Collector!Draco AU

• Harry Potter is a highly respected name in the world of arts; his renowned abstract paintings are absolutely mesmerizing and gorgeous. Even the Queen of England loves his paintings (and has a wall dedicated to them back at the Buckingham Palace).

• Draco Malfoy is a wealthy collector and lover of anything and everything that has got to do with sophisticated artworks and masterpieces. He is known for choosing only the very best paintings. Draco is extremely in love with Harry’s paintings, of course.

• Draco always bid for Harry’s paintings but due to the high demand of his artworks, he never got them—even with his vast network of connections.

• One day, Draco saw a painting of Harry’s that he really really really loved and he was more than willing to shell out millions of pounds for it.

• The name of the painting was “[Iridescent]”, which was French, reminded him of his Black heritage.

• He went to the auction with his pockets (metaphorically) overflowing with money. He was determined to get what he wanted and Malfoys never lose to anyone.

• What he didn’t expect is to actually see Harry Potter in person! He’s been to quite a handful of auctions but never has the painter actually joined the event.

• And bloody hell, Harry Potter was even more gorgeous in person.

• He was wearing a white shirt splattered with paint and ripped jeans. Although everyone else in the room was wearing formal clothes—including Draco, he didn’t seem to notice at all. He was lounging comfortably on a couch by the stage; he had a sort of goofy smile on his face. His raven black hair was properly messy and his shockingly green eyes lit up his already face attractive face. He looked like someone who didn’t know just how sexy he was, which turned Draco on more than it should’ve.

• God, Harry Potter’s presence sealed the deal. He was going to get the fucking painting if it was the last thing he ever did.

• And Draco did get the painting.

• After the auction, Draco “accidentally"—at least he swore it was accidental—bumped into Harry on his way out of the fancy events place.

• “So sorry,” Draco mumbled, steadying them both by placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

• Draco could smell Harry. He smelled just like art would if it had a smell at all—lovely and divine.

• For a few seconds, which seemed like eternity, Draco and Harry stood there.

• Harry broke the silence by coughing awkwardly and letting go.

• “Mr. Draco Malfoy, right?” said Harry politely, blushing. “I’m glad that you’ve taken a liking for my painting.”

• “Please. Call me Draco,” he replied firmly. “And you’re welcome. Everyone has taken a liking for it.”

• Harry smiled a little embarrassedly, running a hand through his hair. “Apparently, yeah. Nice to meet you, Draco.”

• “And I you.”

• A little later that day, after a coffee shop "date”, Draco gave Harry his number strictly for “business” purposes.

• This gave way to their cute and romantic relationship.

• One day, while cuddling in bed naked (and possibly other things), Harry murmurs fondly, “You’re my masterpiece. And you’re much more beautiful than any artwork out there.”



(to Ishola, a nephew)

the mere thought
of it
is grating

some time to come
you shall no longer
be the
not-yet-two year old
shoor shoor (as your mama has pet-named you)
(or ishyyy, as i have)

patrolling the house,
pockets overflowing
with inexhaustible cheer;
freely doling lumps out
to grownups
who could definitely
do with some

we’ll taunt you
into exasperation
you scream it:

and then
(rather than obeying you
and stopping)
we collapse
with gut-upsetting ripples

(then its back to provoking
for us silly adults)

-look at ishyyy cooking sand-rice and sand-banku
-look at him: running and running and running
about the house; rarely ever falling, rising
rapidly if he does

isn’t he sweet; straddle-riding my
shoulders, beaming
with his honey-dark lips parted,
sugar-white teeth showing

“ah, he’s so beautiful”
myself and your aunt are fond
of saying about you
“like a girl,” she invariably adds

and i’ll scoff:
as if boys
can’t be beautiful too

-shoor shoor is a beautiful boy
-is sunshine and rainfall and rainbow
-is love(d)

he makes us laugh&laugh&laugh&laugh&laugh


+ Robbie Kay x FamousReader

Prompt | Request: “Reader is a celebrity and donates money in a auction gallery and ends up winning a date with a certain famous boy.”

I have terrible anxiety at social events like these. They’re incompetent, useless and all that happens is gossip, gossip, and oh, Miss, did you get that new bag from that new designer?

I love fashion but despise the people in it who claim to be “all about it”. Yes, you buy a random, expensive handbag with your wealthy husband’s credit card and go out to some shit- over-charged restaurant with your other housewife friends– and you claim that you’re all about fashion?

Another dreadfully somber Galla event, with “all-white” outfits and those few people who decide to be bold and not wear white. Oh, but this is different! This is a charity event. Same concept, but some wealthy snobs here are actually here to compete against their patrons and help cases.

“Act like you actually want to be here, Y/N.” My manager, Eric, scolds me, glaring at me with a gaze that burns through me.

“I am.” I childishly reply to him. Besides, he’s the one who always sets me up at these damn events. All I’m actually interested for here is donating money to the charity events. My sister is the socialite in the family, not me.

“Shush, they’re starting the charity announcements.” Eric once more ignores my comment and waves me off. He places a hand under his chin and looks intently at the stage where some guy is blabbing on about some cause he has no clue about.

“The bids starts at one thousand dollars, winning a date with the beautifully talented and gorgeous: Perrie Edwards.” The man winks over at Perrie, causing her to blush.

Men who have nothing else to do with their overflowing pockets of cash battle off for a date with Perrie, whom I now pity for this reason. The men don’t even care about the cause, all they want is Perrie’s time and to get in her pants. Okay, it is possible I may be too honest in my own time.

“The charity case for UNICEF goes to Robert Pattinson for ten million dollars!” The new hostess announces as she takes over the next bid, clapping to begin the round of applause.

“And next! This is a good one, single ladies!” The hostess giggles, causing all the snobby single women in the room to laugh along with her. I simply roll my eyes and cross my arms.

“Y/N, that’s not ladylike.” Eric scolds once more. I turn to him with a bored expression and put my left leg over my right leg.

Your face is not ladylike. You’re very unattractive, but you don’t see me scolding you for being cursed with the uglies. But oh, the things I wish I can fire back at Eric, I never really say. 

“Put a sock in it, would you?” I simply mutter before turning back around to pay attention to the hostess announcing the next case.

“For the Fountain of Wishes Charity, in which the highest bidder will bid their money to the children’s hospital and grant each ill patient a wish.” Being someone who lost a loved one to a hellish disease whom never got the chance to truly live their life, I become intrigued.

“For all the single ladies, your date will be with one of our lovely patrons who has been generous enough to volunteer. They’ll know you, but you won’t know who they are. A free mystery date, sponsored and brought to you by Le Spot Alimentaire! A wonderful French cuisine restaurant.” The girl gets on with the charity.

“One thousand dollars!”

“Two thousand dollars!”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Seven thousand dollars!”

“Fifty thousand dollars!”

“Bloody hell, this is getting ridiculous.” I snap, causing Eric to knit his eyebrows in confusion. I snatch my little sign and stand tall. He’s always encouraging me to spend a some money on a good cause, so here I am.

“Twenty-two million dollars. I can write a check upfront right now.” I bravely put in. With my statement filling everyone’s ears, the attention all turns to me. My heart rate begins to beat fast as the room stills and the spotlight is shined upon me.

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maybe someday i’ll tell someone about you
how you made me feel like how broken glass looks
i sit in the back of the gym and write shitty poetry about you and how for a brief time you made me invincible and then ripped my heart out so i had to keep living with the pain of losing you
even afterwards you still wouldn’t let me go
you closed your sweaty hands around me like how Captain Hook closed his fist around Tinker Bell and tried to crush her fragile wings
didn’t you know fairies can’t live without their wings?
yet you still held me in that vice grip, crushing my lungs with the pressure
you know they say to carry salt to protect yourself from ghosts
my pockets are fucking overflowing with it
but your ghost is still closing his hands around my throat
please just let me fucking go you don’t own me anymore you never did but i let you control me because i just wanted to feel like i mattered and i thought you loved me like i loved you but you were just suffocating me so please leave this isn’t your home anymore and i can’t love you like i used to.
—  on abusive relationships//e.r.l.

Animal Crossing.  The game where you can catch sharks with a regular fishing pole, and if you remove the tiniest of things from your overflowing pocket, you can fit the live shark in there.  

And you can keep it fresh and alive in your pocket, closet, dresser, or in a tank that literally has no filter and is way too small for it.

A Way to Warm You

(Solas x Lavellan)

Some holiday fluff for my followers. 

Inspired by two prompts, courtesy of Kreebby. 


The sound of joy was not common to Skyhold.

Isii was happy to hear it, but she felt disconnected as the cold air whipped around her. The snowfall was heavy that night, thick wet snowflakes accumulating into fluffy, crisp piles against the buildings. Despite the turn in the weather, the courtyard was filled with people, warmed by the steady flow of ale and wine. She studied the celebrants quietly, their loud and raucous merriment echoing off of the surrounding stone walls. Cullen was pink-faced from breathless laughter and the wintery chill of the mountains. Blackwall was quickly losing a drinking game against Bull, thick froths of ale catching in his beard as he slapped his leg, bellowing and cursing. Varric was as animated as ever, speaking with his hands as Cassandra listened, smiling despite herself.

A large tree had been dragged into the middle of the clearing, nearly swallowing the front corner of the tavern with its width. A young boy clung to the branches, carefully retrieving ribbons from his overflowing pockets and tying them onto the outstretched boughs. Isii studied the process curiously.

“Happiest of First Days, Isii dear!” Dorian grabbed her from behind, spinning her into a hug before she had time to respond. She squirmed, trying to save her face from being crushed against his chest as his grip tightened. Her voice muffled against the padding of his jacket; the only words he could make out were dammit and shem. He laughed, releasing her.

She rubbed her hand over her chilled and sore nose as he took a swig from the wine bottle he clutched, all pretense abandoned hours ago. “You’re well into your celebrations, I see.”

He grinned. “Had to find a way to keep myself preoccupied. You Southerners have an odd way of marking the occasion. You don’t even get the name of the month right.”

She shrugged, hugging herself for warmth as the chilled night air whipped through the courtyard. “I wouldn’t know.” She said. “I’ve never celebrated First Day.”

“This is your first First Day?” He asked before giggling at the repetition. She could tell he’d had quite a bit to drink. Though Dorian amused himself with most of the words that came out of his mouth, he was not often quite so generous with his tittering.

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I know this is a bit wordy (and awkwardly written to boot!), but I kinda got carried away thinking about this and have lots to share on the topic, haha! 


If an artistically-inclined Nocturne watches another dragon paint/sculpt something, they can then replicate the piece almost perfectly. This makes for much easier and faster mass-production since one Nocturne can pass their knowledge down to another. (Though many artists prefer to teach several Nocturnes at once to keep the piece more pure rather than have recreations of recreations.) The replicas tend to sell cheaply (and be made out of much cheaper materials for maximum profit) but popular works can bring it lots of extra money for the original artist and their crew of replicators!

Assuming, of course, that the artist pays replicators for their work or the Nocturnes don’t sell their creations without the artist’s consent…

Additionally, if a piece gains enough popularity and the artists holds onto the original for long enough, they can then sell it for beaucoup bucks to art snobs with deep pockets for bragging rights!

Also, a seasoned Nocturne artist can restore very old, damaged artwork by trying to decipher the technique of the craftsman and making educated guesses at what materials would have been used to make the relic in question based on the time period and territory it was made in. (Other dragon species can do this as well, but mimicry of any kind comes more naturally to Nocturnes.) It can take them quite a while to get it right, but the results are often invaluable to historians and collectors of rare art alike. 

But not all of the talented Nocturnes out there take on the stressful task or restoring precious artifacts - many prefer to recreate much more contemporary pieces just by looking at them. The original artist may be gone, but there are many that will take the time to bring their beloved work back to life. Most of these professionals make cheap prints to help others prettify their lairs on a budget, but some prefer to use the materials that their predecessor used. (Again pandering to the purists with overflowing pockets.)