#going back go fantasy now

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

ooo fantasy au Poppy oooo there's so much empty space on this, it's killing me

rambles:

why is there lace? why does she have a neck corset? because she's Gorgeous and I'm the Artist Here. i will always inflict my personal tastes on everyone I draw. pretty bird <3

it's really difficult to put clothes on a bird... stream helped out a bunch with the colors & the leg gear! I imagine that the leather is durable, which is probably the only thing that gets her to traverse less Forgiving terrain. Thornbushes and itchy tallgrass can't hurt her! she's got "boots"! How Does She Secure Them, i hear no one ask. that's what neighbors are for, isn't it? and a skilled beak once she gets the swing of it.

her shawl remains largely the same due to my lack of imagination! i put a lil feather clasp instead of the shawl being tied together to give it a more fantasy-oriented look. i think i succeeded? i like to think so! i imagine that the clasp gives Poppy some stress, though. It's sharp! Ish. it's sharp by her standards!

Poppy's enchanted glasses allow her to "see" injuries and illness, both caused by magical & normal means. this is very helpful in her role as healer, but also extremely stressful - just because she can see issues doesn't mean she automatically knows what they are! to her, a papercut may be misinterpreted by the beginnings of a fatal infection! i like to think that she got tired of needing to hold the glasses in place over her beak and asked if there was a charm to keep them steady. and they confidently had their resident wizard spell them on - oops! the spell was a little too strong! they're now magically superglued on! yeah, those are never coming off.

she also has a magic bag that i imagine was a gift from her family when she left the nest! she'd never directly use it herself - what if she falls in? what if something nasty managed to crawl inside? - but the Neighborhood uses it as collective storage. it can hold a lot! supplies, books, tents, gold, even Julie when she's determined enough!

[arielluva]

so back in april i had the idea to draw ace attorney characters as if they were in fantasy life (so essentially combining two of my favorite games) but only finished phoenix then. tonight i finished up the page with some more, and since we know what the new lives in fantasy life i will be, i got the excuse to include vera as an artist :))

id under cut

[image ID: 5 digital drawings of some ace attorney characters drawn in the fantasy life art style, which is a very expressive, stylized chibi style. they are drawn in the outfits for different lives as if they were in fantasy life. in the top left, phoenix wright is drawn as a paladin, with text next to his head that says "Phoenix Paladin". he is wearing silver armor with gold trim, the trim forming a 'P' on his chest. the 'P' has a red gemstone in the center of it. his shoulder guards also have red gems on them. he has a long blue cape fluttering behind him, as he stands confidently, holding a sword in his left hand and holding up a shield with his right. the sword and shield are also silver with gold and red accents like his armor. next to phoenix, in the top middle, apollo justice is drawn as a blacksmith. he has text next to his head that reads "Apollo Blacksmith". he is wearing a teal apron on top of a white shirt and pants. his sleeves are rolled up, and he has a red piece of fabric tied around his waist. he is wiping sweat off his forehead with his right hand, and holding a hammer in his left. next to apollo on the top right, is vera misham. she is drawn as an artist, with text next to her head that reads "Vera Artist" she is wearing a pink beret that resembles her bandana, and has a paint brush with pink paint on the very top. she is holding her sketchbook in her right hand, and a paint brush in her left. she is wearing brown gloves that are stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing a pink dress with a darker pink collar and bow, and the skirt of the dress has a darker pink line going horizontally across it. she has a white apron tied around her waist that is also stained with various colors of paint. she is wearing brown sandals. on the bottom left of the drawing is trucy wright drawn as a wizard, with text next to her head that reads "Trucy Wizard". she is in an excited pose, running while holding her staff, a tall wand with a glittering green gem on top. she is wearing a light blue pointy witch hat with a white ribbon wrapped around it. the inside of her hat is pink. she is wearing a medium length black dress with a white belt, and she is wearing pointy white shoes. she is wearing a light blue cloak, with the hood on her shoulders, that has her green diamond brooch hanging where the ends of her hood meet. her cloak is fluttering behind her and trimmed with white and gold, the insides if her sleeves being pink. on the bottom right of the image, ema skye is drawn as an alchemist, with text next to her head that reads "Ema Alchemist". she is wearing gold goggles with pink lenses, and her hair is drawn more poofy than usual. she is wearing a white coat over a light green dress. she has a pink tie loosely around her neck, and she is wearing a darker green corset with gold buttons. her shoes are plain black. she is holding a potion bottle filled with a yellow liquid in her right hand, and is looking at it calmly, with the left hand in her white coat's pocket. end ID].

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

Will the teasing of the fire be followed by the thud? [x]

[kokiri]

Are you obsessed with Ishgard's lore? Because I know that I'm obsessed with Ishgard's lore! I present to you a 116 page PDF that compiles all of the levequest descriptions from Coerthas Central Highlands (Observatorium and Whitebrim) and Ishgard (Temple Leves).

There's tons of fun little bits of useless silly trivia to downright harrowing worldbuilding about Ishgard's religion and military practices. So, enjoy!

[rooolt]

need a sklonda/gorthalax update from Brennan so desperately, like are they still together? What’s their relationship like? How do riz and fig feel about it? I simply must know everything I think about them daily

[cosmicharm]

"And you? What would you do? I asked first."

[juustozzi]

been having fun doodling out others' designs on breaks between bigger works!

@daarcee @kuroeko @piotrek-chomik @paimy

[of-the-eventide]

the way au ra show affection is quite novel to some but for ito... well let's just say it makes them quite flustered

inspired by @vantaray's comic! it was such a cute little headcanon, it lives in my head rent-free at all times

[jjinpang]

Take 3.5. Take 2 and 3 here

[paradoxlemonade]

My @mcyt-summer-of-yuri gift for @garlicsbreadcrust!

Princesses Pearl and Lizzie share a sweet moment at a royal gala... Let's give them some privacy <3

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[uncanny-tranny]

I know other adults like to joke about how much pain they're in, but genuinely, please try to get your pain checked out if you're an adult experiencing it, or at least adapt your life in whatever way lessens your pain.

Your pain deserves to be addressed. Please don't "let" it get worse because you've been told that to grow older is to suffer. No, you aren't being needy or selfish or annoying. Ultimately, you are the one who suffers the most from the state of your health, and it's entirely reasonable to want your health to be up to your standards.

[picklesinabottle]

Siobhan 🤝 Aabria 🤝 Brennan

changing red to blue to make it a new thing

[ratgrinders]

'when you're in the mood to kill some clerics' - a kipperlilly copperkettle playlist for my favorite unhinged presidential candidate <3

AND IT'S DONE!! A HUGE thanks to everyone who contributed songs on my post here or who messaged me directly, you guys have great taste <3.

[slumbering-shadows]

Camera cuts to Oision Hakinvar, riding a dragon through the roiling stormclouds. His phone starts pinging wildly. He pulls it out, quickly, intending just to silence it, and sees an urgent notification from KVX Bank.

His nemesis list, somehow, now includes thousands of very strange names of people he has never heard of before. The Bad Kids being there makes sense, but- he squints at the screen. Who the hell is Siobhan Thompson?

He watches Riz Gukgak blast his fucking cousin out of the sky with a cannon.

The shockwaves cause his phone to slip from his grasp, and disappear into the clouds.