FLOR'S ARTIST PAGE.♡ status: DOODLING! ♡
♡ comm slots: CLOSED! ♡

hi! my name is punzie, but feel free to call me nam, cielito, or flor!     ❀i have been drawing for a few years now, been writing my whole life, and have basic zine mod experience!!!i really look forward to sharing my creative works with everyone!

my commissions are closed at the moment, but once open, prices can be negotiable! i will be placing a minimum price on samples shown to get a general idea of range for everyone, however!(any comm money i do receive will go to bills, food, or doctor’s visits my insurance cannot quite cover! thank you so much for supporting a disabled lgbt poc!!)✿ looking forward to working with you!     ✿

🌷.  my primary form of contact is on twitter! my dm's will be open to all when commissions are open!  i will do my best to respond to people within 24 hours of their dm!
works in progress will be sent there by default.🌷. you can also reach me on discord — customers may ask for it upon purchase of art.

🌷.   i am on discord nearly every day, and will send things like works in progress and whatnot through there primarily if this platform is requested instead!🌷.        my email will also be included below, for more official inquiries, but please send me a direct message or @ my twitter after you do send the email! i check my email fairly often, but not as much as the others!!
 🌸. thank you for perusing my garden! i hope you enjoyed it here!     .     🌸

   ❀. artist's rights.   

✿— by commissioning me, you are only purchasing my labour. i still hold the copyrights to my works, which includes but is not limited to: reproducing the piece, using it as self-promotion for my art account, distribution of goods, and so on.✿— i have the right to take as long as i need for a commission! while i will do my best to be quick about it, i am a disabled person who also has a part-time job. if you are curious about your commission's progress, feel free to send me a private message at any time!✿— i have the right to refuse a commission i am personally uncomfortable with!! please see 'commission guidelines' for a few examples, but please know that those are not all the examples needed to refuse a commission.   thank you!✿— for any art containing drawn / written gore, suggestive material, and / or artistic nudity, you MUST be 18+ to commission it from me.i may ask for proof of age to confirm such a thing, i.e. a photo of your license (with any personal information ー save for your birth date and name [if the same on paypal / venmo / etc.] ー censored, please!).✿— i am free to change or update
my terms of service at any time!

   ✿. guidelines.   

❀— things i will draw!:
✓.    fanart, original characters, anthro,
simple armour / mecha, blood / gore /
violence / artistic nudity (must be 18+).❀— things i will not draw!:
☓.   explicit noncon / abuse, pregnant characters,
complex mecha / armour, complicated backgrounds,
nsfw material such as: porn / explicit sexual content /
fetish art / etc., any bigoted or harmful ideologies.

 
❀— things i will write!:
✓.    fanfiction &&. rp replies (ask me what i'm
into!), suggestive content (must be 18+)!✓.    angst, hurt to comfort, tragedy / tragic back-
stories (including implied past abuse), fluff,
character studies / introspective pieces,
action, gore (must be 18+).❀— things i will not write!:
☓.   explicit noncon / abuse, pregnancy /
childbirth, nsfw material such as: porn,
explicit sexual content, fetish or kink
pieces, etc., any bigoted or harmful
ideologies, highly excessive profanity
(last one's a personal thing, sorry!!).

   ❀. payment.   

✿— all prices are in usd!✿— payment can be received through
paypal, wise, ko-fi, venmo, or cashapp!(please do note: paypal and wise can be used internationally,
while ko-fi / venmo / cashapp are currently us-only services!)✿— i personally work on a 'half-half system': a half-deposit is required when the commission is requested and confirmed, and the other half is required upon completion and distribution to the commissioner!✿— refunds are not available for completed pieces! if a commission is in progress (more than 50% completed and / or one w.i.p. has been sent to the buyer) and you wish for a refund, the half-deposit is nonrefundable.✿— payment plans can most definitely be requested! as someone who also struggles with money, i am always free to discuss what is best for you and your wallet! ♡ this does mean the aforementioned terms might differ slightly, i.e. instead of two 'half and half' payments, once the payment plan reaches that half-price, all monetary transactions cease until i finish on my end! (this is a hypothetical example and is free to change with proper communication and certified agreements on both ends.)✿— tips are greatly greatly appreciated, but not required by any means! ♡

   ✿. rules.   

❀— please do not remove any watermarks that may be present!❀— commissions received may be reposted, so long as credit is given and a link or @ back to any of my art accounts (twitter, toyhou.se, artfight) is listed somewhere!❀— any image bought from me can be edited for icons, banners, edits, etc., but you must link back to any of my art accounts or give credit somewhere on the post / your account profile / so on.❀— writing can be quoted, so long as credit is sourced back to me (via @'ing any of my art / writing accounts). please do not edit my writing!!!❀— please do not claim the artwork (whether writing or drawing) as your own. likewise, please do not make profit off of, resell, use for zines / nft's, or use said commission in a harmful / negative / bigoted way.❀— do not; under any circumstances, or in any way, shape, form, or capacity; integrate any of my art or writing into artificial intelligence programs (such as character.ai, midjourney, and any other service out there having to do with such)!!!❀— if you wish, you may trace basic poses from my art and use them for your own unpaid / free art as posing practice, but credit MUST be given to me (@'ing my art account or posting the commissioned image side-by-side)!...however, if it is for a commercial piece (such as a piece for profit somehow, i.e. zine work or a commission the buyer is requested to do), it is strictly prohibited!❀— images will be compressed by default, with allowance for transparency (.png)...!! layered images, such as .psd files, will not be given.

   ❀. process.   

✿— works in progress may be given upon request!, however please do not spam me with w.i.p. requests either! i will most likely update you with w.i.p.'s myself upon beginning it, so do not worry on that front! thank you!✿— depending on the intricacy of the commission (whether art or drawing), i may choose to send multiple consecutive w.i.p.'s to you as the process of completing it begins! until approval or gentle suggestion is given, i will not proceed on the work, as to avoid going in a direction you are uncomfortable or not happy with. (this will be stated explicitly to the commissioner for transparency's sake!)✿— please do not edit my writing or art after the commission is completed. if there is anything minor you would like me to change, within a week's time of completion, please message me and i can work with you on what you would prefer! i will not re-do entire pieces or large sections of a completed commission, however; the works in progress are sent to you as a way to gauge your like or dislike of how the commission is presented, so do not be afraid to let me know if there are things that need to be changed then!✿— commissions may take me anywhere from a day to a month. please let me know if you need the commission done within a certain timeframe, but please be aware there will be an additional charge for speediness depending on the complexity of the piece presented.

   ✿. all done?   

❀— thank you for reading my terms and services!!
you're amazing for getting through all that!!! ♡♡♡❀— click HERE to enter my garden, and
find aaaaall of my contact information!!                    ❁ — !! have a wonderful day !! — ❁

🌹.     saffron wiggled her fingers over the cauldron, a faint apricot dust emanating from her fingertips. she murmured a low, monotone, sussurous slew of syllables as she directed her goat-like gaze to the post-it note above her head.she had a horrible habit of mixing up the last two stanzas, but could you blame her for her tongue getting tied? she was a newer mage — one who, in a stroke of wild misfortune, was assigned to take charge of this year's hallow's eve festival. she wondered what it was that made professor pepper decide on such: was it the determined twinkle in her eye, her orange and black striped socks, or the bat clips in her hair? she was a particularly celebratory person around this time of year, yes, but if saffron had to take a gander on what could have caused her teacher's sudden ire, she'd place her bets on her failure to turn in last week's essay.regardless of what event may or may not have procured her mentor's wrath, what mattered now was assuring her hubris would not be her downfall. saffron mcnamara was a highly ambitious sort, you see, and the grand expectations for the festival only furthered her yearning. she wanted to go big in a way not very many fourth-years, let alone a second-year like herself, have ever done.her eyes scanned the note above her head once more. continuing her chant, she added an assortment of ingredients: three drops of frog's blood; the golden egg of a silver goose; crushed and dried poppy petals; freshly harvested squid's ink; and the heart of a two-headed bull, encased in a thick, solid layer of tree sap. she stirred the concoction and held her breath in anticipation.within moments the sickingly sweet stench of pumpkin pervaded the premises, as a head poked from the top of her cauldron. the eyes of the jack-o'-lantern squinted, as if adjusting its vision to the dim lights around it. the head craned itself in every which direction, seemingly surveying its surroundings. pleased at what it found, it smiled. it was a very wide grin, one that nearly split its head open; saffron had to frantically wave her hands and shout a warning to the creature to assure it didn't destroy itself in its elation. the jack-o'-lantern, however, appeared to find humour in her panic, as it gave the young girl a rather cheeky wink before hopping out of the kettle. the pumpkin-like being was incredibly tall, towering over saffron at least two times over — she wondered how a monster this tall could have fit in her tiny little pot!from this angle, saffron could see right up the jack-o'-lantern's large, triangular nose. it was through this cavern that his pulpy innards could be distinguised — if she stared hard enough, she could see the pulse of something unearthly stickily beating to the tune of a heart that never was. the young witch gulped.if this thing was alive, then did that make her a mother?!

🥀.     operator ivory was one of the numerous members of this company that would often get ahead of themselves, when work was done in the name of technological and scientific advancement. there was always something to do, from banal tasks like washing everyone's dishes after lunch to sharpening various blades in preparation for the worst. it was easy to lose track of time, despite the doctor's daily insistence on proper rest, but amber couldn't fault themself too much on failing to sleep — not when the alternative was losing precious time that could be spent absorbing unread documents, or passing out on the floors of various facilities like some were keen on doing.after fifty-five hours straight of hustling and bustling, the sarkaz found that their adrenaline was simply pumping too hard for them to retire to their chambers for the night. their sleepiness of the day dissipated as the moons rose, and vanished as the hours trickled on. it wasn't without effort — operator ivory tried various methods to soothe themself to slumber, such as counting each bump on dormitory one's textured ceiling, partaking in yoga, listening to calming music, and giving themself a neck massage. all were attempted, and all had failed.it was after stopping by the dining hall, a mug of hot milk tea cupped in between their slender hands, that amber found themself absentmindedly wandering about. they breathed in the gentle aroma of chamomile and lavender, crossing the bridge from the main hull of the ship to the deck. the clustered constellations shimmered serenely in the sky — caelum, eridanus, carina. rhodes island's moving village had been between cities for the past week, meaning that the lack of light pollution made everything sparkle with an intensity amber could barely recall prior.the caster inhaled again, the warm vapour of their beverage contrasting nicely with the slight breeze outside. the heat wafted onto their cheek like a kiss, then around their face as they tilted their head up to stare at the stars. they hung like swollen fruit in the sky, big and heavy and bright. if amber so desired, they felt like they could reach just far enough to grasp one in their hand, feel the brilliance burn their palms straight through and marvel at the afterimage of light behind their eyelids....they were beautiful, these stars — devastatingly so. it was the kind of beauty that was best shared with company, amber thought. a wash of melancholy bitterness, then, threatened to twist their face into an unseemly frown at that contemplation. they pursed their lips, instead, and brought the cup of tea to their lips. maybe it was the kind of glory best experienced with others, but operator ivory would have to brave this night alone.amber whitehorn was aware there was no other meaning to watching the sun rise than stolen memories of bygone days, but they carried on anyway. the night was young, and the sky stretched, deep and black and rich, forevermore. when they saw the first peek of dawn, they decided, was when they would try to sleep again.for now, they sit and they remember.

🌼.     and there he hears it: a melodious croon, as if trying to coax birds from the sky. bare feet slide across the surface of the shore, like the woman is waltzing on ice. her arms swim through the air, delicately poised and flowing to her tune. sand is kicked up with every graceful leap, and as she howls something fierce — something beautiful — the wind sweeps it all up around her. it encircles her, a tornado of intertwined fear and enchantment. he cannot find it in himself to look away.a dreamy smile flits across his face. it is an impossible endeavour, he attempts to rationalise, not to dance alongside this ephemeral temptress — to approach and cast his foot besides hers, sweeping the siren into a dip and watching as her sky-blue tresses caress the ground.just to imagine it — to envision himself beside this seaside nymph, makes his hands sweaty. he looks at her, gaze never faltering, as he was afraid if he even blinked she would vanish.his special mirage.his hand slips on the tree trunk, and a shard of wood embeds itself in his thumb. he curses under his breath, and takes a step back to analyse the damage.(and there she hears it: footsteps, their attempted disguising in the forest, and the low and angry mutter in the winds. with a face like a deer caught in the headlights, she gathers her thin, water-stained skirt in her arms and flees the scene.)inigo looks back and finds nothing, her image dissipated on the sea breeze.he finds himself frequenting the beach much more often, with the fervent hope that he may catch a sight of the illusion he once saw. inigo brings with him pencils, markers, paints and a canvas, sketchbooks and notebooks and flashcards and his own sheer will flickering at the surface like a shark's dorsal fin.he finds himself to be the ocean, and the woman persisting in his dreams like the moon — his waves reach desperately for the great expanse of the sky, jealous that it can embrace the lunar majesty he has found himself besotted with. he is ebbing, he is flowing, one step forward and two steps back to the shore; this is his dance, his solo, but how he longs for their duet.

💐.     felicia took a tentative step forward, reaching her arm out despite every warning sign in her clawing through her stomach. things whipped by her in a blur, the only clarity in her vision the sparkling ember of her own flesh and blood dissolving before them all. lord kamui gasped in horror, she heard, his body radiating heat as she both felt him beside her, her liege trying vainly to block her line of sight, and hundreds of miles away.and yet this all still ingrained itself into her mind. even when she blinked, the crackle of her sister’s slow demise burned itself into her eyelids, a picture of a scene of a moment of a memory that she wished she could forget as it occurred. but felicia had a tight grip on her past, both of her fists curled around the links and chains of reminiscence.she remembered everything in that moment. the silkiness of her sister’s hair as felicia wrapped it between her fingers, braiding it all and tossing it over her shoulder with childlike glee. trying to read flora faerie tales to lull her to sleep, and flora’s reminder of her mercurial, peculiar state of slumber. the hugs their nanna would give them, back when they were young, and how flora held on especially tight on her side of nanna’s wide waist, like every hug she gave would be their last, nuzzling into her soft warmth like a small kitten.flora in her thick purple dress — how she kept it in the closet of her room and gazed dreamily at it when she thought no one was looking; flora trying on her maid’s garments for the first time, and the indignation that razed forests in her thinly-veiled glare. felicia reaching forward to grasp her sister’s tiny wrist, to pull her into a hug.cradling her sister in her arms after she would shake felicia awake, shadows of dreams creasing thick betwixt her brow and eyes dead as nightfall. the feeling of her slender frame — far too thin, felicia thought, to carry this amount of burden — as it trembled in her embrace, asking, begging, her to stay like this for a minute, voice hushed as to not carry past the thinness of the quarter’s walls.flora’s whispers in the quiet of the witching hour, words like a well-worn incantation, spelling grievance, pain, and sworn wishes of going home, seeing father, helping rebuild the village, this she promised.the cushion of snow met felicia’s kneecaps, gaze glued to her sister’s body crumbling into ash.there was yelling, she thought,
grasping at the cold and clawing at the ground underneath.there was yelling.it was her own.