#my brain go “lmao no”

[amazingdeadfish]

How do you draw lmk style?

Step One: Draw Head (I generally just try and try and try and try and try and try and try again until I get the square right. Make sure the corners are ✨round���)

Step Two: Draw Torso (more trial and error. I draw the torso that... Sort of resembles the rib cage? But it's so deformed you can't really tell)

Step Three: Rest of the body (gotta just wing it for whatever pose that's needed. Remember that all limbs are sort of cylinders and are not rectangles)

Step Four: Add Details (I have drawn this blue man and Macaque so many times that a reference is like, never used)

Step Five: Colour!

[deep-space-lines]

IT'S FINALLY FUCKING DONE. I'M FINALLY FREE

UNTIL FRAUD COMES OUT

Tumblr shrinks it down pretty bad so please. please. I am begging you. look at the full sized image and zoom in. This art piece made my friends worried for my mental health I need someone to witness the amount of detail and effort I put into this

also the original sketch under the cut bc I think comparing them is really funny

[tagerrkix]

Eden was their ✨disney princess era✨

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[cable-salamdr]

They proceeded to recreate all of motm. Geo got to dress up as the munce queen and felt very smug about it.

(We are pretending it is still Halloween for me and not past midnight since an hour. Thank you.)

[timethehobo]

Scribbled on the flight home. One day more! 🥺

[excali8ur]

Weird dream.

[werewolfhooligan]

we'll meet beyond the shore / we'll kiss just as before / happy we'll be beyond the sea / and never again i'll go sailing

[meteoraolive]

They were just a cameo but they were so cuteee

And he called her 'my love '🩷💗

[xxplastic-cubexx]

me Omw to annoy you about more Francesca content 😼😼

you and my entire inbox my friend strap in everyone this is gonna be The Francesca Mega Collection. part one The Bed Collection ft You HAVE To Click/Tap To Read Anything ESPECIALLY The Asks

thank you for joining me for the Francesca Bed Collection im going to pass out

[bizarrelittlemew]

calling it right now that season 3 starts like this

[duusheen]

Where do you go If I don't love you anymore? 🎶

[doctorsiren]

Today’s textured canvases once again featuring that Legally Mom AU 😁

Miles and Phoenix were never separated, and so they remained best friends through high school and college. They both went to law school, but Phoenix got a BFA and went to law school wanting to defend artistic and creative rights. He also went because he would be bored all day if Miles was still going to school and he wasn’t

Edgeworth actually becomes a lawyer and he works at his mother’s firm

Mia ends up working there instead of at Grossberg’s because it makes more sense that she would work at the firm connected to DL-6 and also uh she would have a woman as her boss lmao (Eleanor ends up becoming like a mother-figure for Mia, and Miles becomes like a younger brother to her)

Since Mia isn’t working at Grossberg’s, she wasn’t involved in the Fawles trial (which was prosecuted by Franziska). Diego was the defense attorney on that one, and he went on a solo mission to investigate Dahlia. He and Mia met and became friends, but Diego kept the Dahlia investigation close to his chest and a secret, partially to protect Mia (since they were friends now and since she was a new attorney and inexperienced). Diego and Mia finally ask each other out one day, and they plan to have a date later that week, but Diego then has to go to a meeting he has…which was with Dahlia…and he got poisoned…and by the time he wakes up, Mia is dead and they never got to go on that first date. He was asleep and unable to protect her, which is why he didn’t tell her about the Dahlia investigation in the first place. He ends up blaming the Edgeworths (Eleanor and Miles) for her death.

Dahlia (Iris) still dates Phoenix since Phoenix and Miles are dummies and have yet to confess their feelings for each other (although Eleanor can tell). Since Mia wasn’t a part of the Dahlia investigation, and since it was handled by a different firm, it didn’t raise any red flags when Phoenix started dating this chick. Phoenix was also in the courthouse library that day because, again, he wanted to go to law school with Miles (subconsciously pulling an Elle Woods).

When the murder of Doug happens, Miles isn’t a lawyer yet since, even though he could have skipped a grade or two, he never did because he didn’t want the increase in social isolation and also didn’t want to get separated from his friends he already had at his grade level. So he’s the same year as Phoenix (senior in college). I think Eleanor would then be the one defending Phoenix (rather than Mia) since she’s also basically a mother to him (he practically lived at the Edgeworth household since his home life wasn’t great, and then he moved in after his mother passed away his senior year of high school. So he’ll call her Mom and such, but he doesn’t refer to Miles as his brother and neither does Eleanor refer to them as brothers since She Knows What They Are [even if they don’t really know yet lmao])

We also figured out that for Turnabout Goodbyes, Eleanor is the one framed for Hammond’s murder since MVK wants to get rid of her as she is still trying to investigate the truth and he can’t have that. Miles has to defend his own mother BUT THEN when Miles starts saying the stuff about how he probably is the one who killed his own father, Eleanor then defends HIM and it’s just…Ough…mother son bonding over murder and death of father 😭😭😭😭

Just some thoughts 😁

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Spock knew he was dying. It was, he supposed, quite inevitable. In truth, he was surprised that death had not claimed him much sooner; there had been many instances throughout his life and career when it had seemed inescapable.

Now, however, it would be time that would claim him.

All told, it was a significant improvement upon his last death, trapped within the Enterprise's warp core. Though his bones ached with age, his flesh did not burn with radiation, and his vision remained quite clear. He hurt, yes, and was cold, but he was not in agony.

However...

The last time he had died, pressed up against the glass, he had not had to face it alone. Jim had been with him, as had Doctor McCoy and Mr. Scott. He had been unable to touch them - and indeed he had wanted to, had wished quite illogically for the glass to fall away and allow him to tumble into Jim's arms - but they had still been there, at his side.

He was a Vulcan, and so perhaps it should have been inconsequential, but he was old now, and sentimental.

He could not help but want.

And then, as though a breath had passed through the room, Spock sensed a change.

Suddenly, without any fanfare at all, Jim stood at his side, smiling warmly down at him. He looked just as young as he did when Spock had seen him last, before he had been swept away by the Nexus and held away from him for so many long decades. He was, thought Spock, so beautiful.

If this was an illusion, it was a welcome one.

When Jim's hands clasped his own, they felt real, somehow, soft and warm against his chilled flesh, and Spock gripped back with all the strength he could muster. Illusion though it may be, Spock would savor it.

Jim, he wanted to say, how I have missed you, but his voice was well beyond him. To even try would be an exercise in futility. Kaiidth. Perhaps it was for the best. It would not do to frighten his doctors by speaking to a hallucination.

Still, he allowed himself to look, drinking in Jim's appearance like a man parched. It had been so very long since they had been together, and Spock could find no shame in taking advantage of his situation. He was dying, and if an illusion was the only way he could have the company of his husband, he would accept it without question. It felt like Jim, and it looked like Jim, and that was enough for him.

To his other side, a light began to bloom. Sunrise. He had not expected to make it to this sunrise. Memories, long cherished, of watching alien sunrises with Jim bubbled up in his mind, and a sigh fell from his lips.

Oh, how he had missed him! And now, at his very last sunrise, Jim was back with him, hands holding his.

Yes, this was by far an improvement on his previous death.

With some effort, he turned his head towards the sun. Jim, too, turned to face it, and together they watched, as they had so very many times before. It was peaceful. Wonderful.

He did not know how long he lay there, gazing at the rising sun, Jim's hand still in his, before the change became apparent to him: breath no longer stirred in his chest, and his heart no longer beat in his side. Gone, too, was the ache of time that had so suffused him these last years.

And yet, the sun still shone before him, and Jim's hands were still warm against his own.

He blinked, wondering.

"Jim," he whispered, and the name fell with shocking ease from his lips. Cautiously, he pulled himself to a sitting position, and his form moved more smoothly than it had in many years as he turned to meet Jim's eyes once more. "Jim."

"Hello, Mister," Jim replied.

Jim beamed at him, that beloved face warm with affection. The barest hint of sadness lingered at the edges of his eyes, and Spock's hand raised almost of its own accord, brushing lightly over his cheek.

"You grieve," he murmured. "Why?"

Jim just smiled, leaning into Spock's touch. "Illogical, I know," he said, a light puff of laughter escaping his chest. "I only - well. It isn't pleasant to watch you die, peaceful though it was. And, while I'm terribly pleased to see you again, I can't help but feel sorry. Death is - quite permanent, most of the time. I'm afraid no strange Vulcan rituals will be bringing you back, this time around."

Spock understood. Gently, he threaded his fingers into Jim's hair. "I confess that I am relieved by that," he admitted, cherishing the feeling of Jim beneath his touch. "I would not wish to be taken from you once again, so soon after arriving."

Something honey-warm softened in Jim at that, his eyes alight with a deep fondness.

"You sweet talker, you," he said, squeezing gently at the hand still within his grasp. Then, something almost tentative crept into his face. "Spock," he started, eyeing him cautiously, "I know it's been... quite some time, for you. But - to say it bluntly, I still love you. If you've moved on, I'll never mention it again, but-"

Illogical, Spock thought, silencing Jim's words quite suddenly with his lips. Jim melted against him easily, and for a long moment they did nothing but kiss, breathing into one another as they traded touches. When Spock finally pulled away, Jim looked almost kiss-drunk, lips swollen and eyes besotted.

"I suppose that's my answer, then," Jim chuckled, squeezing Spock's hands again.

"Indeed," Spock replied, allowing his eyes to crinkle with some of the delight which pumped through his veins. Gently, he rubbed his nose against Jim's, then pulled back again.

"I'm glad." Jim looked at Spock for a moment, and then glanced down at the bed he still sat upon. "I'll admit, I expected you to have more questions."

"I have surmised that I am dead, and that you are here," Spock said. "Anything further seemed unimportant, for time time being."

Another huff of laughter escaped Jim. "Imminently logical, Mister Spock," he teased. Spock merely inclined his head in response.

Jim stood, and pulled Spock with him, rising from the bed. Disconcertingly, he could see his own body laid out beneath him, eyes closed in death, but then Jim leaned in to press a brief kiss to his cheek, and it was forgotten.

"Well, suffice to say, it seems there's some kind of afterlife. It might be a part of the Nexus, believe it or not." Gently, he tugged Spock along as he started walking, linking their arms together "I'm not the only one who's been waiting for you, I'll have you know," he said, an almost impish smile playing at his lips. "You'll have quite the greeting party, I'm sure. I think Bones has been saving up gripes just for you."

A smile found its way to Spock's face, and he did not try to stop it. He had Jim in his arms once again, and soon he would see their friends. But, before they could continue, Spock pulled lightly at Jim's arm, stopping him.

"Jim?" he said. "I am glad you were with me."

For a moment, Jim looked at him, clearly surprised. Then, an expression which shone like the sun spread across his face. He stepped forwards, enclosing Spock in a hug. Spock went willingly, tucking his face into the crook of Jim's neck.

"I am, too."

[mochiwrites]

It’s dark out.

Moonlight casts a softness over the server that isn’t there during the chaos of the day, creating something uncanny and uncomfortable for a game such as this one; softness. It’s not something that lasts, not something that comes naturally here. And yet the moon remains with its soft glow, gentle light sitting around them all like a blanket.

It’s dark out, and it’s hard to see.

It’s just Skizz and him now, their third no longer tied to this Hell. Grian is stuck between jealousy and relief. There is no break for someone like him, no reprieve or rest. The pain of it all doesn’t stop when his lives run out, when he leaves this place—it only continues. It wraps around him, sinks into his skin, his heart. It digs its claws so deep in him that it leaves a permanent mark on his memory. He’s unable to forget any of it.

He has to tiptoe around Skizz when leaving, avoiding stepping on the arm the guy has thrown out to the side of his body. His loud snores grate on Grian’s sensitive ears, and the quicker he escapes the better. He tucks his wings in close as he climbs the bridges, Mumbo’s ecstatic voice ringing loud in his ears with each creak of wood under his feet. Grian holds onto the railings, but his grip is weak, loose.

He doesn’t need to ask himself where he’s going, or even think about it, really.

When he reaches the last of their bridges, he heads up the mountain. It almost feels familiar, like he’s done it one, two, three times before. Cherry blossoms drift to the ground around him, uncaring of the somber air that Grian carries with him. He almost wants to stop and shout at them, can’t you read the room? I lost my best friend today! But he doesn’t. He ignores the tranquility of the petals, ignores how he squishes some under his feet.

Some chests come into view, right at the center of the mountain. He passes by the three parrots, some bit of him happy to see them untouched. He’d have to fix them up himself if they were damaged (and knowing looks would be sent his way the following morning).

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that no real infrastructure is up here. No base for safety from the night, a small farm or two. At least he’s learned to put torches down to ward off mobs.

Grian moves closer to the center, finding no one else around. Lizzie probably went off to see Joel, and Jimmy… who knows with him, really. That doesn’t matter much to Grian, not in this world where his brother is dead to him.

His eyes roam over to a pink bed, and ah.

Scar is awake, as if he were waiting for him.

Grian’s feathers ruffle slightly as he avoids making a big deal out of it, stalking toward him. The scarred man doesn’t say anything, simply scoots over some to make some room. Grian is quiet as he pulls the blanket back, sliding into place. In this world, he hates how perfectly he fits with Scar. It makes it hard to hate him, to commit to being enemies with him. How is it that Grian can so easily promise his own flesh and blood that he’ll kill him until he’s out of the game—but he can’t keep to being enemies with Scar for more than a session, if that?

It’d be… so much easier if Grian could just hate Scar. If he could kill him without mercy like he does with everyone else and go back to a world where hating Scar is never a need nor an option.

It’d be safer, if Scar hated him too.

(It would’ve been safer for Mumbo, too.)

Rough fingers card through his hair kindly. Grian burns. Something primal and angry and hurt claws at his chest. He lashes out much like a wild animal would, despite having sought Scar out on his own. “I hate you,” he tries to say, tries to keep any emotion out of his voice, tries to mean it.

(He couldn’t help Mumbo. But maybe here—)

Scar’s gaze softens, lacking any hurt. It only serves to frustrate Grian further. “You don’t.” He sounds so confident, so certain of it, like it’s some kind of universal truth that everyone has accepted except for Grian. “I don’t think you could hate me if you tried.” He’s smug.

“I can, and I do,” Grian argues with him, glaring.

“Mhm, and that’s why we’re best friends, huh?” Scar lifts a brow. “Why you gave me the mace and only wanted to ally with ol’ Scar instead of the Bamboozlers. Or why you’re here in my bed, gripping me like I’ll poof.”

“It was an underhanded kill.” Stop looking at me. “I would’ve done that with anyone.” Stop knowing me. “Your bed is the closest.”

Scar’s fingers in his hair don’t stop, soothing and gentle. It feels wrong. “But you didn’t. You wouldn’t have if it was TJ or Pearl.” His lips curl with amusement, “You can’t fool me with any of that.”

Grian doesn’t answer, and Scar doesn’t push.

Instead, he’s tentatively pulled closer, an arm sliding over his waist. It feels so familiar, in a different home, in a tower. Grian can almost imagine the sound of a llama bleating nearby. He huffs some frustrated noise, and lets the familiarity tug him in. He selfishly takes the comfort Scar gives him, as if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago. But Grian is selfish, and he takes what he wants. Scar is selfless, and is happy to give whatever Grian needs.

He exhales silently, right against Scar’s buttoned shirt. He doesn’t speak, so Scar does it for him, giving him an out. He always gives Grian some kind of door. “I put you back to 100/100 reputation with us.”

Grian can’t help but snort. “Did you put the heart back too?” Contradiction after contradiction.

“Oh, that was only for your name. No offense to Skizz but he and I aren’t like that.” Scar’s hand drifts down to the middle of Grian’s back, right between his wings. “I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Grian huffs, “might just explode it again if you kill me.”

“Probably. I’ll show it to you anyway.”

Grian rolls his eyes in return. “Better not betray me again then.” It wouldn’t be Scar who does it.

Scar’s eyes hold understanding. Grian almost wants to reach in and tear it out, replace it with the hatred he wants Scar to feel instead. He only digs his fingers into Scar’s shirt. “I’d be a fool to betray you after getting you back today.”

After getting you back.

Grian should be the one saying that. “Whatever,” he mumbles in return. He clings to Scar, allows himself that small mercy, that small kindness. Lips brush his hair.

“Sleep well, G.”

Neither of them say anything more.