#i hope this makes sense to future me

[kimikitti]

I tried 5 hour energy for the first time, and man is caffiene nice. I got a second bottle. Turns out your not supposd to have two in a row. Thy should print that bigger because im blind. LOL

I've been thinking up of Obi overblot design. Honestly, I've made so many iterations of the design that I don't like. The concept itself has changed so many times too. But i think I have settled on an idea/ concept i want to base it on.

THe biggest issue I had with the core concept of Obi's overblot is the reason it happens in the first place. TBH I initially wanted it to be just as destructive and flamboyant as the othr OB.

BUT I don't think that really fits his character

The more I get to know Obi, the more I think he is like a tsundere. He has feelings and stuff but he is in capable of communicating them in a meaningful and honest way to others and himself. Unlike the tsundere's default language of anger though, Obi masks his true feelings through hypranalyzing people.

Obi likes puts himself into the position of a watcher, someone who is on the outside looking in. But that contradicts his desire to build connection, so he tries to rationalize all of it by saying that he's just playing along with the story.

The reason he is helping overblots? It's fun! Taking care of Grim? He seems interesting!

But deep down Obi desperately cares about others, even more than himself. Each of the overblotter's stories and experiences hurt but he takes them on because he is an observer. He can't be hurt if he is just watching.

Right?

The facade starts cracking by chapter 6 where things start to get more personal. I think Idia, probably is someone who would be able to speak Obi's language a little. Probably points out his bs a little as they are trying piss each other off.

by the end of ch 6, Obi makes the decision to jump into styx to save grim. And things stop being a story, Obi realizes that he cares about the Grim and the othr NRC students as more than just entertainment.

But here's the thing, Obi has finally realized his care for the people of Twst but he still lacks a lot of self worth. That wonderful combination is the mindspace obi is in when he overblots.

(I will refrain from any ch7 speculation for now. But let me tell you Malleus' overblot is absolutely crushing for Obi)

That has all been the preamble to explain and justify my concept idea.

Obi's overblot would not be loud and destructive. It would be quiet. Peaceful almost, as Obi just quietly lets himself sink into all of the blot he has been collecting. He's powerless to help anyone he cares about, so he quietly let's go. Obi would give up all of himself if it meant that Grim, and the others could get the chance to be happy.

It's a blissful dream.

I would hesitate to call what awakens after that even Obi. Wrapped in soft downy feathers with a gentle smile is the first ever non-magical overblot.

And he's here to help.

LOL this is long. this is mainly for my reference anyway so im going to list some visual design stuff that I'd like to include for future me

angel themes (biblically accurate? nahhh )

smile ( try to contrast it with Obi's usual express, softer curves maybe)

white and black making the core colors. More white though, like blinding amount (gold accents? Maybe?)

[mari-lair]

so the anime adapted this

but didn't adapt this...?

ok, sure, let's make the already most shallow friendship in this manga even more of a yuri bait.

[jadeyarts]

i'm lucky i'm in love with my best friend

[hyakunana]

Treasure Hunter Extraordinaire! ✨

[screechingfromthevoid]

I think the same reason I love Dorym is why I love Loquatious and Laerryn. One, the devotion of it all. But secondly, and more importantly, "But there's one story of a fairy who stumbled into this world and fell in love"

Because Dorian is an air genasi prince who left home to find something real. His home floats on wind and he's never wanted for a thing. And he came down from his clouds only to find himself stumbling, tumbling, into love with just a man.

There is something so earnest about a man who is considered magical and wondrous in a world that already has magic, falling in love with someone who just is.

It's a thought that scratches the back of my mind a lot. It goes hand in hand with Liam saying "he has no idea if Dorian returns his feelings". Because from Orym's point of view why would Dorian have feelings for him? Dorian. The beautiful blue prince who is extremely talented in both music and magic. Dorian is everything Orym admires in other people. Everything he doesn't see in himself.

But Dorian does have feelings for Orym. Because Orym is everything he's not. He's firm and reliable. He knows who he is and is unapologetic about it. Orym was the only one in the (original) Crown Keepers that wasn't tempted by the spider queen. Because he was too principled. He was too good. Dorian's alignment changed. Dorian felt himself getting worse. Yet Orym stayed steadfast. In the face of everything he did not change.

Their pursuits were the same. They wanted to protect their friends. At any cost. But Orym somehow stayed unchanged. He always knew the right way of doing things.

So the handsome prince fell in love with a guard and planned to stay with him until he no longer wanted the company.

I literally said to a friend "I know he leaves. But he is so devoted to Orym I don't know how they're going to get him to."

And it was the one thing neither could argue against. Family. Orym knew about family. He knew about duty.

But even a continent away Dorian couldn't stop thinking about Orym. His little tactician before he was the savior blade. Even when his world came crashing down, Orym called and he went.

Idk. I think there's something beautiful in the way that Dorian loves Orym. I think it is very reminiscent of the fey who stumbled into this world and fell in love. I think it will be a love that will always be with them. That they will have to recover from. A love they might have to mourn before they ever have it.

Even if they never... If there is no love confession, if they have to mourn the loss of the people they thought they were, if there's no way for them to be together; Dorian will always love Orym. In the same way Orym loves Will. First love often lingers.

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[mylove-thresher]

I fucking hate this but I’m NOT gonna try drawing it again. No. I won’t.

[clowningaroundmars]

hello it's me can I ask u (if you're so inclined/have time) if you could explain further about the theory of Kane making a deal with VEGA in the finale? I thought he was talking to the Duke and that VEGA was "a myth" (in his words...)? It's ok if you can't but you've piqued my interest :)

ok so in ep 19 when the burners were 1st meeting up after kane/vega wrecked shit downtown and "saved the day", julie pulled up to the scene after doing some quick research into his identity

she said "according to the files i found in kaneco databases, he's a spy from an organization called VEGA. which is based in cleveland!"

she shows a map, pinpointing exactly where the org's HQ is among a totally blacked-out map. ofc, we know after the grand reveal that kane most likely planted that data in case employees went sniffing around in the files to throw them off his trail, because it turned out that he was "vega" after all

... but why? at this point, kane doesn't know or even really suspect that julie is double-crossing him. that info is oddly specific to be planting amongst files that are highly restricted and can be accessed by only a few kanco employees.

assuming kane doesn't suspect julie to be the mole amongst his crew, there's certainly something there. maybe kane's double role as a spy is made up, but the organization he was associated with can be smthn substantial. also hehehe kane pretending to be a spy. meanwhile julie's life is literally nothing but pretending to NOT be a spy. parallels!

and from a writer's pov it would also be a fantastic set up for future seasons and a possible overarching goal to work towards. we never saw it come to fruition bc... stupid disney cancelled this amazing show! but imagine!!! cities outside of deluxe. mike str8 up says "everything outside of deluxe should be a wasteland! or maybe thats what kane wanted us to think..."

Kane the Control Freak covering up the existence of other civilizations possibly more advanced than even deluxe? makes sense to me

plus.. the tech "vega" used was extremely effective and extremely efficient, described by dutch as "not easy to build. or cheap". if deluxe has an expiration date soon due to kane's inability to successfully colonize motorcity, would he even have the means to build something like a powerful detonator in one single button?

or would a more advanced city be supplying detroit? a city that perhaps maybe kane is indebted to, giving him yet another reason to keep pummeling motorcity with everything he's got?

[customizablefriend]

My true self still loves Tommyinnit I am still an inniter at heart I have not changed

[anpiels]

Kazuma Asogay and Ryunosugay Naruhomo.........

(guy who never finishes art) hey guys check out this new sketch that i definitely didn't forget to put Karuma on at first

[asgardian--angels]

things I wish I could relive for the first time again:

that magical window where you finish a new piece of media, having watched/read it all by yourself with no fandom contact whatsoever, and you are just so happy about it, and full of interesting theories and takeaways, and just in love with it as a gorgeous piece of art.

because I swear to god as soon as you join the fandom for anything, you're bombarded with how you're supposed to view characters and their arcs, how you're supposed to morally and ethically judge the plot and the ways it apparently failed to present the right message, and if you don't you'll either be shunned for not sharing the popular headcanons or you'll be harassed for not criticizing the source material enough.

like how is it that the fans of a piece of media are also the ones being the most negative about it? If I like a show or a movie or a book, well, I liked it. That's kind of the point. I'm actually not here to tear it apart and talk about how it didn't live up to standards other people had! I enjoyed it for what it was, and forcing myself to find negative things to say about it doesn't actually bring me more enjoyment of it or reap any benefit to me. Fandom's a double-edged sword; you want to join a community to share your love for a piece of art, and the price you pay for a modicum of joy is a mountain of negativity. that's one main reason that I never engage with fandom until I'm completely done with a show, because if I was plugged into all of that commentary and discourse during the process, I'd be completely colored by how I'm expected to interpret everything this piece of art is presenting to me without being able to even form my own opinions.

[linkedin-offficial]

bugged out ! 🐞🪲

via sillies over at @raggedabstraction + @ask-the-rag-dolly

[astralhope]

Yuma's unshakable trust in Astral makes me cry every time

[cookies-after-dark]

Hey want some hurt to comfort stuff I got based off the idea of black sapphire thinking of ruining y/n's life in that one post? Well had an idea:

Imagine if y/n was already depressed before meeting them...and already isolated, alone, bad thoughts...no rumors spread about them and stuff but just say y/n doesn't like looking themselves in the mirror...cue shadow milk one day plucking them up and black sapphire meets them too and notices how y/n is already broken...wonder how black sapphire would react to that lol...a depressed reader lol!

Uh well. I will be honest with you anon, depression has a very heavy connotation to it and this is mostly an unserious porn blog; any heavy topics I talk about (toxic relationships, unhealthy dynamics, everything about yandere) is done in a sexual manner. I'm willing to write about fluff and comfort but I don't think this is the place to talk about straight up depression (at least I'M not really comfortable writing about mental disorders/mental illnesses on a porn sideblog).

Sorry about that, just my personal boundary.

[specialmouse]

X

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Oh! Before I forget ... I had a talk with a friend about that idea theft I was dealing with, and I'm going to try and start posting more, in spite of that experience. I never really got into it, nor do I want to, now, but it ... it dealt some real damage to my creativity and willingness to talk about my interests and AUs, and also sort of killed my desire to write or draw anything. But I really, truly, want to take my creativity back--I miss writing and posting about all my thoughts, so I'm going to do my best to defeat the fear I've been dealing with so I can be here, more.