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Alice clicked her nails rhythmically against the glass, only stopping to occasionally swirl the yellow liquid within. When she took a sip, her nose crinkled. “Oh Maisie, my love, this is truly disgusting,” she said softly. “Bless your heart, but I can’t drink this.”
Maisie was, of course, not present. Alice’s best friend was likely stooped over in a field somewhere, gathering more dandelions to make up for the batch she had wasted creating the wine. Or perhaps dandelions were out of season at this point. Alice could never keep track. She waved a paw absently to the side of her head, as if dispelling distressing thoughts of foraging from her mind.
She made her way into the kitchen, but hesitated at the sink, reluctant to pour the effort down the drain. After waffling for a few minutes, she sighed and went back to her office. She set the glass down, pausing briefly to admire the way the sunlight shone through it, then she pulled the bundle of documents she had been reviewing back towards her.
She wasn’t sure what was worse: the stupidity of this legal case or the taste of the dandelion wine. At least she could clean up the former mess, while all she could do about the latter was apologize for suggesting it.

Alice leaned against the fence. She lifted a paw to block the sun from her eyes, and she waited for the stranger to notice her. When he turned around from the pile of boxes on his front step, she gave him a radiant smile. “New to town?” she asked.
He smiled back at her. “You’re the fourth person to point it out,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed to have done his research and thus knew that moving into Sprinhave was no easy feat. The town would be overrun if it were, and Alice played no small role in ensuring that would not happen.
“I’d expect at least five more after me,” Alice chuckled. She looked him up and down, and her ears flicked back playfully. “Today, that is. There’ll be more once news spreads.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Any advice for fending folk off until I can unpack?” he asked.
Alice beckoned him over. She held out a small business card — one that didn’t bother mentioning her profession — and a smirk played over her lips. “I’d suggest getting inside fast. That way they’ll at least feel obligated to bring you a gift. If anyone gives you too much trouble, give me a call.”
He laughed as he took the card. “And you’ll come save me?” he teased, though there was a note of hopefulness in his voice too. Smart man.
She shrugged. “I might,” she mused, eyebrows raising slightly. “Depends on who’s here bothering you. I don’t interfere with Monica, and she’s bound to catch wind of you soon.” Before he could ask who Monica was — as if she’d give him any clues he could use to spot her before she reached his doorstep; that would ruin the fun — she added, “Best be on your way, really. Good luck with all the boxes.”
With a wink, she turned on her heel and started off down the road. He seemed pleasant enough, but she’d wait to hear the town’s general consensus in a few days before digging for dirt on him. She wondered what it was he did. They got a lot of farmers in Sprinhave, but he didn’t seem the type. Perhaps he was a craftsman. There were still some niches that could be filled in the town if that were the case. In fact, Alice could even help him niche himself right in. Yet, as she’d already decided, that would have to wait until he either impressed or disappointed the other residents. She didn’t think quite so highly of her opinions and interests that she went meddling for only her own sake.

2017
The drawing served as a gift for a random person from one group on social networks. Unfortunately, I will no longer be able to find an image of the original character to use as a reference. Just like I won’t be able to find the owner of this pony to give him new art.

2022
Well…I still have the same problems with wings and color :D

Redraw of this piece from 2020

I decided to rewrite my February 2021 Creative Collective submission from Oriana’s perspective rather than Renee’s. I thought it would be a fun way to revisit their characters and see how the vignettes changed when Oriana was interpreting Renee’s actions rather than the other way around.

Both pieces are in the first link, but I’ll go ahead and put the new piece below:

I’m still getting the hang of digital art and including color in my drawings, so I thought I’d redo my limited palette drawing from February! I still don’t love it, but I do like the new drawing much better than the previous one.

February 2021:

January 2022:

A Coffee Amidst Chaos

Changelog:
- added nodes for the left and right intersections
- created a temporary list of future to-dos and priorities under the adventure description page
- change the defeat command title and text
- reroute “walk towards the left/right intersection” commands to their respective nodes
- move “encounter a hero” and “someone needs help” to left intersection node
- move “encounter a villain” and “a falling street light” to right intersection node
- slightly edit start command text
- add a node for the street with the coffee shop

The original from around 2009. It’s really rough, it pains me to look at it, honestly. This is Illcira, she was a part of a huge creative project that I sort of drifted away from but I’ve always liked her character. So I figured I’d dust her off and get her an update.

The Update! Changed quite a few things, unfortunately I don’t have time to fully render and do everything I wanted. So just imagine that as hardwood floors and tent like walls and what have you. Pardon the messy coloring in the background, legit just laid it down and went with it. XD Maybe I’ll go back and finish one day.

Revisited this CC entry of Pete from last April. Tried to keep the same feel with the short beak and chonky dodo, but made it cleaner using lines. Not sure I like it, but it’s better than the original. XD;

- created the adventure, made it non-canon, and set the number of players
- set some adventure tags
- set player HP
- gave the adventure a one-line description
- added some embark page text
- went through the reference guide to see if I could figure out what went wrong the first time
- failed to figure out what went wrong the first time
- renamed the beginning node
- copied over some text from an old adventure for the embark page
- created command 3
- brought over the text and info for the previous command 3 from my old adventure
- tried to set the start command to execute command 3 but it’s not showing up in the dropdown
- had to use the legacy editor to manually set command 3, but now it says invalid selection
-

Old ver

The towering shadow wraith screamed.

Victim’s love-laced arrow had pierced its shadowy hide, and a spiderweb of cracks with peachy pink glow raced along its foggy form. One of its huge legs fell off and shattered like glass, dissolving into smoke. It stumbled, then with a final roar the rest of its body followed suit.

When the wealth was all gone, a tiny mouse was left floating in a glowing pink bubble. It looked around in confusion as the bubble popped against the road and released it back into the world without so much as a scratch. With only a pause to clean its whiskers, the mouse darted away from the scene of the confrontation.

“Hmph.” Tyrant sniffed, watching the mouse escape. “Not perfect just yet. I’ll have to tweak the spell a bit more for next time.”

Victim notched an arrow and aimed at Tyrant. “Off with you, or there won’t be a next time~” Their voice was, as it always was, a dreamy sigh, despite the dark threat their words contained.”

Tyrant glowered at Victim one last time before opening a dark, swirling portal with a swipe of his claws, stepping through just as Valentine sprinted past Victim and slashed her sword through the magical doorway and shattered it as well.

Valentine took a moment to catch her breath, she a thing her sword so she could use both hands to sign: ‘Runaway, we grab, next meeting’. Roughly translated to spoken word, Victim knew Valentine was saying “He got away, but we’ll get him next time.”

“I do hope so.” Victim sighed, putting a hand on Valentine’s shoulder. “These fights are getting harder to…”

Valentine looked at Victim in confusion when they trailed off, then with a yelp grabbed Victim to steady them as they swooned to the side and nearly fainted to the floor. Valentine wanted to sign to ask if Victim was alright, but her hands were full and they looked nearly unconscious already.

Victim’s expression was usually a dreamy, unfocused smile with a thousand yard stare, but their smile had dropped and their eyes were wide open, glancing around with shaking pupils.

Valentine wasn’t the magic expert, all she could do was wait until color began to return to Victim’s face, their smile had returned, eyes still jittery but at least getting calmer.

“...I’m alright.” They said finally. “That wraith…I think Tyrant used a spell to make me drain more love magic than I normally would. That’s going to be a problem if he finds a host with real hatred in their heart.”

Valentine rarely expressed fear, but seeing the effect just one little mouse had on Victim, it terrified her to think of what would happen if she hadn’t been here in time.

Her thoughts were cut short by Victim putting their head on her shoulder. “Your love is…so warm….and….stable…” They sighed and hugged Valentine tight. “Your aura…feels like home…!”

Valentine blushed, but then cleared her throat and tried to look like she wasn’t embarrassed by the public display of affection. Victim needed hugs, it was for medical reasons, so hugs they would receive! Valentine slung an arm under Victim’s legs and hoisted them up into a bridal carry.

“O-oh—!” Now it was Victim’s turn to be embarrassed. “That’s too kind if you, Valentine…!” They placed a hand on their cheek and made a show of looking away in a maidenlike fluster.

Valentine just rolled her eyes at the corny display and started back home, letting Victim relax into her arms as they recovered. They basked in their shared love, it gave them all the strength they needed to go face whatever tomorrow would bring.

And if they exchanged a few pecks on the cheek when the other wasn’t paying attention, it was just their imagination, nothing to be embarrassed about.

New:

Original:

With his back stooped Grex shifted his grip with a grunt and trudged through the sandy expanse before him. The cool breeze of the night shifting the sands before him, and smoke and the spec of light of a fire still blazing from the crashed sabotaged ship at his back

Calloused hands, blunt words, sharp eyes, sharp teeth, and a scowl. Grex had never considered himself kind. Never once had he thought to use the word to describe himself. He had never been nice, a good kid, no one had ever called him a helpful young man, or looked at him naturally kindly. There was no good will in the world that had surrounded his youth.

He wasn’t good. He told himself throughout his life. And if he wasn’t good he wouldn’t have to expect anything good from life. His hopes would never be up. Always tempered and fair unlike anything else in life.

“I’m not kind. ”

A low chuckle sounds in his ear, “I wouldn’t…say that. Nev’r thought you’d be the sort ta save me?” Luka had finally woken up, and first thing the hero was doing was teasing him. Grex lets out a huff as he gentle shifts the hero’s position on his back once more.

He rolls his eyes and grunts out in response, “Doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t have enough energy to play any games with Luka or to make any witting comebacks, and he doubted Luka did either after pulling him out of the wreckage.

“Yeah?” Luka’s voice croaked and cracked in his ear, and the scowl on Grex’s lips deepened. The sound of the heroes broken voice in his ear made his stomach twist, and his brow furrow at the thought of how fragile this man, this supposedly invincible hero, really was, “Then…why’re ya doin’ it?” He weakly asked.

In his course forward Grex faltered in his step slightly, but kept going on. Grex had fought Luka time and time again. Some fights he won and some fights he lost, and sometimes they didn’t even do that. Sometimes thing were good and calm, and sometimes Luka actually laughed and smiled at him. He was one of the few people who did. But never had he seen Luka look like how he did now. He had never seen this annoying, invincible human look so…mortal and pitiful before.
“You just…”  He faltered as the images of Luka’s still body beneath the wreckage flashed through his mind. It scared him, plain, and simple. That face that last smiled at him and treated him kindly, actually kindly, “Looked so pathetic. Can’t let you be offed by someone other than me.”

His head was pressed against the expanse of Grex’s back, his limbs limp and covered in dirt and ash at his sides and swinging with each uneven step the Talmarian took back toward the nearest civilization.

“I owe you.” Luka mutters out his voice tired, and his eyelids flickering open and closed as sleep wished to take his body once again.

“No. No, you don’t.” Grex gritted out as a new twist in the pit of his stomach tore through him. Panic filled him as the lines began to blur.

But it didn’t matter anymore in this moment as Luka’s eyes drifted closed, his energy spent for the time being, and his entire body calling out for rest. Peaceful, even breaths were heard in Grex’s ear as he walked further through the desert with the hero carried upon his back.

With his back stooped Grex shifted his grip with a grunt and trudged through the sandy expanse before him. The cool breeze of the night shifting the sands before him, and smoke and the speck of light, the fire still blazing from the crashed sabotaged ship at his back.

Calloused hands, blunt words, sharp eyes, sharp teeth, and a scowl. Grex had never considered himself kind. Never once had he thought to use the word to describe himself. He had never been nice, a good kid, no one had ever called him a helpful young man, or looked at him kindly. There was no good will in the world that had surrounded his youth.

He wasn’t good. He told himself throughout his life and believed it. Because if he wasn’t good he wouldn’t have to expect anything good from life. His hopes would never be up. He would never be disappointed by what happened to him or what didn’t happen to him. Everything would always tempered and fair unlike anything else in life.

“I’m not kind.”

A low chuckle sounds in his ear, “I wouldn’t…say that. Nev’r thought you’d be the sort ta save me?” Luka slurred. He had finally woken up, and first thing the hero was doing was teasing him. Grex lets out a huff as he gently shifts the hero’s position on his back once more. A sigh of relief escaped him in those moments. Not that he wanted the hero to know.

He rolls his eyes and grunts out in response, “Doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t have enough energy to play any games with Luka or to make any witty comebacks. He doubted Luka did either after he had pulled his unconscious self out of the wreckage, but the human kept surprising him just like the day they met.

“Yeah?” Luka’s voice croaked and cracked in his ear, and the scowl on Grex’s lips deepened. The sound of the heroes broken voice in his ear made his stomach twist, and his brows furrow together at the thought of how fragile this man, this supposedly invincible hero, really was, “Then…why’re ya doin’ it?” He weakly asked with words slurred from exhaustion.

In his course forward Grex faltered in his steps slightly, but kept going on. Grex had fought Luka time and time again in the past. Some fights he had won and some fights he lost, and sometimes they didn’t even do that. Sometimes thing were good and calm, and sometimes Luka actually laughed and smiled at him as they just passed the time at some random bar and drank. Two anonymous people out in the big dark galaxy. He was one of the few people who did in his company. But never had he seen Luka look like how he did now. He had never seen this annoying, invincible human look so…mortal and pitiful before.

“You just…”  He faltered as the images of Luka’s still body beneath the wreckage flashed through his mind. It scared him, plain, and simple. That face that last smiled at him and treated him kindly, actually kindly, “You looked so pathetic.” He wanted to shrug, but didn’t as he knew jostling the hero anymore would hurt him, “I couldn’t let you be offed by someone other than me.”

His head was pressed against the expanse of Grex’s back, his limbs limp and covered in dirt and ash at his sides and swinging with each uneven step the Talmarian took back toward the nearest civilization.

“I owe you.” Luka mutters out his voice tired, and his eyelids flickering open and closed as sleep wished to take his body once again.

“No. No, you don’t.” Grex gritted out as a new twist in the pit of his stomach tore through him. Panic filled him as the lines began to blur. He was a villain and Luka was a hero. He was bad and Luka was good. Everything had been black and white up to this point. Everything had been clear. He had known where he stood this morning…before he had heard that Luka’s ship had been tampered with.

Even in the hot desert his next breath felt cold and frigid as it pricked and stabbed at his lungs, his chest, his heart.

“You’re wrong.” Grex utters out.

But it didn’t matter anymore as Luka’s eyes had drifted closed, his energy spent for the time being, and his entire body calling out for rest. Peaceful, even breaths were heard in Grex’s ear as he walked further through the desert with the hero carried upon his back.

Everything was different and confusing now.

His mismatched eyes glance toward the distant horizon.

It was all muddled like the sun bleeding into the sky.

Scribe Circle text

I only chose this piece because I’d already drawn it 6 years apart, and 6 years had passed again, so it seemed apt! haha. But I haven’t improved much if at all here really—just switched styles! I’ve actually become a bit weaker with oeakaki style, if anything LOL. I wouldn’t part with my layers for anything these days.

Here’s the new rework of my oc!

Andy & Ari were dropped off at an orphanage at 4. They waited eight long years, but no one ever adopted them, so on their 12th birthday they were sent to their Royal Academy. With a newfound purpose, and the chance to compete, they quickly dedicated themselves to the Academy, constantly vying to outdo eachother, comparing total missions and monsters killed and grades and whatever else they could. Andy preferred the arts, and saw expression and communication to be the most important, whereas Ari focused on science, believing that understanding the world around them was the most important thing.
Sick and tired of their constant bickering, and devising a way to put their competitive nature to use, their Academy quickly requested the teacher slot in the new Academy opening in Yun and informed Ari and Andy that they would be filling those spots. They were, of course, over the moon about it, and eager to spread knowledge to the new children of Yun.

tbf this is 1/3 of the bio for one of the kids LMAO tw death
A human woman, after a drunken affair, is horrified to find she’s given birth to not one, but two hybrids. Her well-to-do parents would be angry with one child - two hybrids is just begging to get thrown out.
So she throws them out first. Since they’re just hybrids, no one stops her.
One of the nurses, a Hybrid herself, quietly rescues the two infants, keeping them in the hospital under care until they can be delivered to the nearest orphanage.

Neither Andy nor his sister Ari know anything about this - as far as they know, they were born into the orphanage they’d grown up in. It’s not a great place. But they don’t know anything better. Sometimes people would come in, prospective parents, but they almost never actually adopted anyone - and if they did, it was almost always humans. They quickly learned to hide when someone came in searching for Hybrids specifically - it was uncommon, but always bad news. Still - it was hard for Andy not to dream, always poking his head around the corner, wide-eyed, hoping the nice woman who had come in would see him and his sister, fall in love, take them somewhere warm and safe and they could live a normal life, like in the movies he’d watch on the barely functional VHS they had in the main room.
Ari was more concerned about staying alive, working hard to be the best at chores and stealing extra food when she could - kids were regularly purged as more came in than left, and those thrown into the streets usually didn’t last long. A body in the back alleyway of a kid that used to sleep beside them. Andy tried to cover her eyes, but Ari refused.
They did their best to give them a proper burial.

her hair changed bc its a new season. shes a palomino :)

Not much is known about Rood Galatine’s life before he arrived in Eorzea. He hails from the Dotharl tribe of the Azim Steppe and was pushed around by bigger and stronger Auri growing up. Rood was not a very skilled member of the tribe and couldn’t really provide for them, so he left with an axe in the hopes of finding something he was good at. He wound up in Gridania, learning the ways of archery and the bard before being thrust into secret societies, secret powers, and plots to assassinate royalty. At first, the prospect of being a hero was enticing to Rood, so he chased it. Now, however, he warns wide-eyed, would-be Warriors of Light from the path. He has accepted his lot: his mental well-being sacrificed for the good of Eorzea. No one else should shoulder this kind of burden. His tribe better appreciate all the work he’s done to save their sorry asses.

Over the course of his journeys, he’d seen so much horror and committed many atrocities himself, and the songs in his heart that would spur men to fight or weep died along with the hope of a simple, carefree life. Many of his beloved allies have fallen in his name, but he must continue to fight. He took up the gun in the hopes of regaining his prowess on the battlefield, that he might one day be able to rest, pick up his harp, and sing again. Now he stumbles along, aimless, going where the Scions tell him to go and fighting what people tell him to fight. He considers himself not as a person but as little more than a weapon at this point.

Rood Galatine is an Au Ra of mystery. Ashamed of his experience in the Azim Steppe, Rood has made it a point to either avoid questions about his past or outright lie in response. In truth, he was considered the runt of his native tribe. Since he was born into the Dotharl tribe, one that thrives on unfettered violence and aggression, this very nearly caused his death many times. To make matters worse, he was never very good with the axe his past lives had favored, and he was often ridiculed by his peers for his incompetence and size. He’d always preferred the quiet reverence of the Qestir, and visited Reunion at every chance he got.

Slowly, he began to save up money for passage to Kugane and, eventually, Eorzea. He picked up archery as a means of survival; a couple of years later, he picked up barding as a means of earning gil. He often accompanied mercenaries on their jobs to provide moral support, but the horrors he witnessed as a result curdled his heart. He couldn’t make himself sing, knowing how much death existed in Eorzea as well. Many of his beloved allies have fallen in his name, but he must continue to fight and earn gil. He took up the gun in the hopes of keeping his prowess on the battlefield, that he might one day be able to rest, pick up his harp, and sing again. But that would be a long time coming, since Rood considers himself little more than a walking weapon, going wherever the Scions tell him to go and fighting what they point him at.