#iris amacitia

Here ya go!! Poor babs....someone embarrassed iggy and is going to be stabbed aijsdiuhfiuhruger

FFXV-Tober Day 12: Iris

Thank you @lordzuuko for indulging me and helping me create this disaster

ofc i see mistakes but i worked too long w/this dang brush to care. my tablet is FINALLY WORKING so i wanted to get some practice in before i went to a wedding

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{Slides in just under the wire}

My contribution to the first day of Amicitias week.

@amicitias-week

It was the day of the annual Ostara egg hunt in Insomnia. Thousands of plastic eggs, stuffed with candy and tickets for prizes, had been spread out across the parks throughout the city.

           As usual, the Amicitia clan would be at the giant central park, with King Regis and Prince Noctis.

           This year, though, would be different. Instead of wearing her usual, childish outfit, Iris and her friends had decided to work with the volunteers and dress up as bunnies, help the kids, lend a silly air to the event.

           But she wasn’t going to be wearing one of those ridiculous fur suits, oh no. This year, she was going to show Prince Noctis just how grown up she really was.

           Her costume this year was a close-fitting, black leather jumpsuit, backless, with a halter-style front. A U-shaped patch of white faux fur covered her chest, with the neck tie designed to look like a little black bow tie. A little puffball tail at the back, thigh-high lace-up boots and long, floppy ears on a headband completed the outfit. She used her eyeliner stick to draw a little bunny nose and whiskers on her face  and dabbed on a little pink lip-gloss.

           She left her room, skipping happily down the hall, and down the stairs, aiming straight for the front door.

           “You are NOT leaving the house dressed like THAT!!!” Gladio bellowed as he grabbed her hand.

           “Ugh!” She shook her hand free of his grip. “I’m not a child, Gladio. I’m fifteen. I can wear what… I… want?”

           Her tirade slowed as her brother’s outfit penetrated her awareness.

           She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

           “You lost a bet, didn’t you?”

           Two feet away from her stood her brother – six-and-a-half feet tall, well over two hundred pounds, and every inch hard muscle – wearing the same costume she wore.

           “No. Yes. Maybe,” he faltered, blushing.

           “You do realize there are going to be photographers and live news crews there, right?”

           His blush deepened, and he grimaced.

           “Yes,” he groaned.

           She caught his hand in her own and opened the front door.