#no i didnt think out all the details lol

[tennessoui]

ok we knew it was coming here is 3k of this based on the tags where anakin leaves the college, eight years pass, and he writes a book about his time at jedi college and being with obi-wan specifically. sorta dark but mostly just allusions:

(3.2k) (only the italicized bits are in first person ok just trust me)

Everyone knows about the university on the outskirts of Jedha. Not because of its high academic standing or because of its beautiful campus or top-of-the-line staff, its sports teams or its student life.

Everyone knows about it because that’s where everyone wants to go, even if most people will never even step onto the campus. 

Even if most people know Jedi College is not for them. They want anyway, despite the tuition rates, despite the dreariness of the weather, despite the loneliness of the college, situated as it is in the hills miles away from the formal boundaries of Jedha.

The wealthiest echelon of society sends their children there with the knowledge that they’ll probably never open a single textbook and still pass with flying colors. 

That’s the best lesson Jedi ever taught me: a name carries more weight than anything else in the goddamn world, and you can’t hide behind anything if you can’t hide behind your name.

There are two kinds of people who attend Jedi College: those whose parents did—the wealthy, the greedy, the ones who have already inherited their parents’ ennui, and those schmucks who fought tooth and nail for their acceptance letter, who thought attending Jedi would be the first rung on the ladder out of wherever they came from.

Alright. Three kinds of people: the rich, the desperate, and me.

—----

Anakin’s new office is on the fifty-first floor of his company’s building, which doesn’t actually mean much about his job. Mostly it just goes to show how much bigger things are here in Coruscant.

Mostly it just means that Anakin has forty-three seconds exactly to lean his head back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and try to rest his aching eyes. There’s a full day of work in  front of him. And the day after that, there’ll be another one. And then another one.

Hitting the elevator emergency stop button has never been more temptying, but it would just be delaying the inevitable. Life would continue as it always did. People would probably even notice Anakin’s absence. 

After all, one does not simply write a Tell-All sort of book and then disappear without people asking some questions.

If he died in this elevator from lack of water or air or food or something, there’d probably be an investigation. There’d probably also be conspiracies on the internet that the headmaster of Jedi College had him assassinated. Or a malicious parent of one of the kids Anakin had gone to school with. Or one of the kids themselves, grown up and wearing borrowed power as unfitting as Anakin’s suit.

“Sir,” a voice says directly across from him and he opens his eyes. The elevator doors are open and his secretary is looking at him with the sort of blank gaze of professionals every person in Coruscant seems to have. “Are you going to get out?”

“Oh,” Anakin says.  “I suppose I must.”

This gets him a weird look from his assistant.

Anakin offers her a strained smile. He never talks like that, doesn’t know why the words had slipped out the way they did, except that he hadn’t slept well the night before and he’s just spent months thinking about someone who used such words all the time, said in the same manner. A lilting Upper Coruscanti accent.

“Coffee, then?” Blanche asks, which is why he’d hired her in the first place.

“Two shots of espresso in a drip,” Anakin confirms, exiting the elevator and running a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” his assistant says, even though it isn’t really in her job description to get Anakin coffee. It’s one of those days already where if he leaves the building before five in the evening, he’s probably not going to come back. “Oh, and there’s someone in your office.”

Anakin, who had been about to turn the corner to his office, pauses. “It’s nine in the morning.”

“He insisted,” Blanche says. “He also slipped me two hundred credits to not say anything and get out of the building.”

“But since you don’t accept bribes, you promptly denied him entry to my personal office and alerted the authorities.”

“No,” Blanche says. “I’m going to get you coffee with the two hundred credits in my purse. His name is Ben.”

Anakin’s throat tightens and his stomach shrinks. “I—I don’t know a Ben.”

Blanche raises a severely unprofessional eyebrow, casting her eyes to look behind them both at the framed poster of Anakin’s book cover. Golden lettering on a gray and black landscape photo of the oldest building of Jedi College: Chasing the Dying Light.

“I don’t know a Ben,” he says again stiffly, jaw working. “And you work at a newspaper, you should pay more attention to what is reality and what is fictional.”

“Yes sir,” his assistant says. “Though the man in your office is very real, I assure you.”

Anakin flounders for a second before stuffing his hands into the pocket of his coat. “Three shots of espresso,” he tells her. “Now that you’re rich and all.”

“My nephew wanted to pass on his congratulations that Dying Light entered its ninth week at the top of the Bestselling Nonfiction Courscanti Times List,” Blanche replies blasely.

“Four shots,” Anakin says.  “One of them liquor.”

“You wrote the book, darling,” Blanche at least looks sympathetic as she wraps her knitted scarf around her neck. “You should have known you’d have to eventually face the music.”

“There’s more than one Ben in the world,” Anakin replies, mostly to himself.

Blanche looks unimpressed. “And you don’t know any.”

Anakin doesn’t. That’s why he’d chosen the name out of all the options. He couldn’t write his real name, so he’d given him a different one and made sure he wouldn’t write out their story and think of anyone else but the boy who haunted his mind even eight years later.

He doesn’t know any Bens, but he’s not as surprised as he should be when he opens his office door and sees Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting behind his desk, feet up on the oak wood. 

“Hello, darling,” Kenobi says. “Honestly, an email would have sufficed.”

—--------

Ben Lars pulls you in like a whirlpool’s current. There’s no escape, but you don’t even realize you’re drowning. And yet I would have given him my last breath of air had he asked, had I known he was drowning too.

I met Ben the way people often meet the love of their lives: in a shitty college dorm bathroom at two in the morning. 

Shitty is subjective, of course. Jedi probably had the nicest student bathrooms on the east coast, but there’s only so much one can do to make a bathroom not shitty. Especially one used by boys who have never cleaned after themselves who arre turning into men who will never clean up after themselves.

That’s what Ben was doing when I met him. Or Ben’s…friend, though I’ve been told over and over again that Ben didn’t have friends. What else could we call Quintas, who was cleaning off the vomit on Ben’s shirt as the boy himself sat on the edge of the sink and did nothing to help?

I hadn’t meant to be there, but it doesn’t really matter why I was there. It matters that he was there, that he rolled his head against where it rested against the mirror and locked eyes with me.

“Hello there,” he said, blinking at me as if trying to decide if I were real or a figment of his imagination. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” he added. 

His voice caught me off guard. It wavered about a range of pitch, but every syllable was one of those pure Upper Coruscanti accents you only ever hear in films. Polished and perfect, if he hadn’t slurred his every other word.

The boy touching his shirt looked around, face tearing between fear and fury at a the interruption.

“Get out,” he snapped, rising up as if he were going to advance upon me. As if I posed a threat.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I wasn’t an idiot as much as I probably was. “He’s drunk. Why are you—what are you—”

“It’s my birthday,” Ben said, eyes earnest and wide as he looked at me. “Are you here because it’s my birthday?”

Quin turned around, back to me. “Ben, come on, I’m not getting this out without getting it off.”

“He’s drunk,” I repeated. “You’re not getting anything off him.”

“I didn’t think anyone would remember,” Ben said, picking uselessly at his shirt and then at his friend’s. “He’s in a different time zone though, Quin, he’ll call. It’s my birthday, he’ll call. He’ll—”

“You’re fucked to the wind, Ben,” Quintas replied. “If he calls, I’m not letting you answer it.”

“If,” Ben repeated, a drunken babble. “If, if, if—”

“Come on,” Quin offered his arms, and Ben slipped off the sink and into them easily. I shifted my weight, feeling as if I had to do something without knowing what.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Quintas snapped at me. “You couldn’t pay me to fuck him.”

Ben laughed, but I couldn’t figure out what was funny.

“I know him too well,” Quintas added. I’ve always wondered if that was a warning and I was too much of an idiot to understand it for what it was.

Or maybe I knew exactly what it was, but Ben eclipsed it—every damn thing—when he stumbled from his friend’s arms to mine, pulled at a piece of my hair to examine it, said, “Pretty,” and threw up all over my shoes.

I can never decide if he remembered that night, our first meeting, or if he did not. I only learned his name a few days later when it became very clear he hated me with a singular intensity. I thought at the time it was an intensity that came from a boy who had been made vulnerable against his will, but he always insisted he didn’t realize that was me. 

And when you’re in love with an accomplished liar, it’s hard to know if they love you enough to tell you the truth or if they love you enough to tell you what they think you want to be the truth.

—-------

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says. The man before him looks nothing like the boy he remembers. His hair is much shorter now, pushed across his forehead in a careful way that looks effortless. He’s grown a beard, something sharp and short, that sticks to the lines of his jaw.

The Obi-Wan Anakin had known had had long hair, though the professors had all given him grief for it. He’d had dimples when he smirked. Smiled, too, but he smirked more often. He’d had soft lips that Anakin had taken pleasure in kissing raw and red.

“Your secretary is pleasant,” Obi-Wan says as if Anakin has not spoken at all. He stands from Anakin’s chair, taking each shiny leather shoe down from his desk slowly. He moves like some sleek feline predator, dressed in a tight black turtleneck and tighter pants. “Blanche. It’s like she was born to be a secretary.”

Anakin doesn’t take a step back, but he does step to the side under the guise of taking his coat and scarf off, hanging it on his coat rack. “She’s nice.”

She’s a dirty rotten traitor who’d probably known exactly who Obi-Wan was both to the world and to Anakin. Any secretary worth a damn would have left him in the lobby.

“I’ve always thought there was a lot of power to a name,” Obi-Wan murmurs. His hands are behind his back, and Anakin doesn’t trust him.

God, Anakin loves him. But he doesn’t trust him.

“You would think so,” Anakin mutters, pacing away from him to look out one of the windows in his office. His office is practically all window. It usually makes him feel scrutinized, trapped. Now it makes him feel safe.

Nothing can happen between them. The world is watching. 

“What does that mean?”

“You expect me to stand here and pretend as if your father isn’t one of the richest men in Coruscant? Obi-Wan Jinn?” 

“It’s Kenobi,” Obi-Wan says silkily. He stays on the other side of the office at least.

“It wasn’t when we were in that holding cell in the height of winter, sharing a scarf and three gloves between us!” Anakin snaps back.

“Who do you think got you out of there?” Obi-Wan rears back as if greatly offended by his accusation. “I couldn’t do anything for you when I was there with you, but as soon as they released me, I—”

“Who got me out? Who do you think got me in there in the first place?” Anakin’s heartrate is pounding, pulse skyrocketing as he looks across his suddenly very small office at the man who once was a boy who tried his level best to ruin Anakin’s life, all the while calling it love.

Obi-Wan’s face is twisted in a sneer as he brings his hands out from behind his back. “I believe I forgot. Let me check.” 

A flash of black, gray, gold as he opens the copy of Anakin’s book, flips to the correct page, and starts to read aloud.

“Ben could convince anyone of anything. He could convince a professor to give him a passing grade, a glowing recommendation. He could convince an athlete with a drug test in the morning to help him finish his line of snow. Hell, he could convince a blind man he needed glasses. And me, the scholarship kid they let in to fill their quota, who needed to study more than he needed to breathe, whose future and livelihood rested on graduating Jedi top of his class….It took very little effort on his part to convince me of anything.

All he had to do was find me, tilt his head—”

“Stop it,” Anakin says forcefully, a hair’s breadth away from a shout. “For the love of God, stop it.”

“But why should I? You’ve gone on for at least one hundred more pages.” When Obi-Wan looks up from the book, his eyes are dark, expression fierce. He looks—God, he looks—so, achingly familiar.

Anakin snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head wordlessly.

“I’ve always liked my name,” Obi-Wan tells him lightly, snapping the book shut as well. “Power and all that. But you’ve made quite a good case for Ben. Do you think it suits me?”

“What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks, rubbing a hand over his mouth, blinking at him once before turning away. 

“I wanted a signed copy,” Obi-Wan says, tossing the book with just enough force that it lands on his desk and knocks over half Anakin’s mementos.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Perhaps I just came to warn you that Quinlan Vos has declared his every intention to kill you, and I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Anakin swallows and shakes his head. “I thought I wrote him in a fairly flattering light, seeing as how he beat me half to death when we were twenty. He still trying to fight your battles for you?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Obi-Wan inclines his head. “If only I understood the concept of friends.”

“If only you understood the concept of a lot of things,” Anakin mutters, crossing to his desk and fishing a pen out of the mess of his desk. He grabs Obi-Wan’s book, and flips open to the cover page.

The tip of his pen hovers over the paper. To my biggest fan, he writes and then signs his name.

“Cute,” Obi-Wan murmurs from just beside him, and Anakin barely resists the urge to jump. To cry too, probably.

“There. You can go.” He shoves the book back at Obi-Wan, almost letting it drop in his hurry to not touch him. He doesn’t know what will happen if he touches Obi-Wan Kenobi again. He’s spent eight years dreading the very idea and eight years longing for it.

“So you really believe you’ve done nothing wrong,” Obi-Wan marvels, holding the book in his hands as if it were a particularly fascinating live grenade. “I wondered what your defense would be. What you would say. How you would rationalize this: disappearing three weeks into your last year at Jedi, ignoring my calls, dropping out of school, leaving Jedha, only to emerge eight years later with a trashy Tell-All that thinks it’s highbrow literature. But you don’t have a defense, do you? You didn’t think you’d have to prepare one.”

“I didn’t think you could read,” Anakin clenches and unclenches his jaw.

He can feel Obi-Wan’s eyes boring into the side of his face. “Fuck you, Anakin Skywalker,” he says simply. Finally. Anakin holds his stiff stance, but Obi-Wan turns away, grabbing his coat from where he’s abandoned it on one of Anakin’s chairs.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” Anakin hears himself saying before he realizes his mouth is moving. “I saw the interview your ex-wife gave about you.”

Obi-Wan stops from where he’s halfway through putting on his jacket. His face is unreadable, but his eyes dart everywhere across Anakin’s face before he shakes his head. “She’s not....She spent our whole marriage furious at me that she couldn’t be what I wanted and I didn’t know how to tell her it was useless to try. You’re an idiot if you think her little interview is the same as—as you doing--as your---as this.”

He grabs a scarf—Anakin’s scarf—and winds it around his neck, turning to open the door. 

Anakin is there before he can, placing one hand to the side of Obi-Wan’s head and slamming the door closed again. “What do you mean.”

He feels half mad, borderline insane. His heart is hammering. He’s so close that he can smell Obi-Wan, and the smell is addicting. Cedar, cardamom. Spice. 

Without his conscious permission, he’s pushing further, caging Obi-Wan against the door and turning him around by the shoulders until he can grab the scarf, his scarf, and fist his hand into it.

“What do you mean?”

Anakin is taller and stronger. He always has been. Everything Obi-Wan put into his system made him weaker, stunted his growth. 

But Obi-Wan has always known he’s smaller, and he’s always known exactly how much Anakin liked it. He looks up from beneath his eyelashes at Anakin, slumping slightly against the door like prey that’s been caught. 

It’s a trap, it’s always a fucking trap, a fucking game, but Anakin falls for it. He presses forward

“She wasn’t you,” Obi-Wan tells him, eyes dark in something that could be hatred or love but is probably both at the same time. “Nothing she said or did would ever matter because she never—she was never you.”

“Why did you marry her then?” Anakin whispers. “Barely out of college. Would you have made me be your best man?”

“I thought you would have hated her the most,” Obi-Wan breathes back. “I fucked her better when I thought about how much you would have wanted to claw her eyes out.”

Anakin makes a sound like he’s wounded. He feels wounded. He feels raw and open. He’d hated her, Ob-Wan’s right. He’d hated them both, how easily Obi-Wan had married someone his father approved of, how perfect they looked together. As if Anakin had never existed at all.

“What do you want?” Anakin asks--begs--dropping his hands to Obi-Wan’s waist purely from memory.

Obi-Wan leans forward, and for a second Anakin is worried that he’s going to kiss him. He’s elated at the very idea.

“Buy me lunch,” Obi-Wan whispers into his ear, nose finding the curve of it and nuzzling against it carefully. “With all the money you made from breaking my heart twice over now.”

Anakin knows he will not say no.

Obi-Wan Kenobi has always been a whirlpool. At least this time Anakin understands that he’s drowning. Surely that has to count for something. 

where’s my toxic dark academia au where the Jedi Order is a prestigious private university for rich kids who are all a different flavor of beautiful and fucked up, and Anakin is the kid they let in on scholarship once every a few years and he comes in scrappy and defensive and in love with the daughter of the family who is sponsoring him (and maybe half-adopted him when he was 10 so it’s a bit fucked up all around)

and he meets this pretentious dickbag of a student on his hall who is so cold and aloof that anakin can’t stand him, this guy obi-wan who’s so beautiful and untouchable and who sees right through him

I imagine they fuck in the most explosive way where they’re in the middle of a very loud fight in some bathroom in some rich kid’s house and neither is sober, and obi-wan says some awful shit about anakin being in love with Padmé and if his adoptive parents knew they probably would wish they hadn’t adopted him and anakin says some awful shit about how obi-wan’s been sent to boarding schools all his life cause his father never wanted him, and it starts as a fight but they’re just punching each other with their mouths and probably crying too

[aliettali]

out of your friends which are you?! (skilltobers 13, 15, 16, 17, 18)

[cerealmonster15]

jamiazu / ashenviper week day 6: toxic yaoi overblot

SORRY it's very much a rushed mess especially in the lower half jdkslfjksd i was v busy today and trying to hurry to get something done for this before midnight [covers up the clock... i was close enough,,, it's still day 6 in some time zones jkfdlsjfs]

unfortunate that the overblots have so much going on and take me ten billion years to draw otherwise i think id like drawing them more bc they LOOK VERY COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[gen4grl]

halloween in pallet

[skunkes]

i dont like when character being blunt/having no filter = character just being Mean, and im trying to find a good balance with that for Talon. I guess it's not that hard since he's not an (active) overthinker and I have drawn him saying things he considers neutral that seem rude to others...I guess I have to find a way to show the opposite, too

[w0nder1ng-gh0st]

Some Wiwi's for each arc :3 !! prolly not completely accurate but let me live

(click for better quality smiles)

[lee-hakhyun]

from an outside perspective it’s really feeling like they’re emphasising kim dokja’s status as an eldritch god. like,,, you don’t feel it through orv because kim dokja himself has just enough knowledge from reading twsa to navigate, and on his own you can really tell how human he actually is, but. take things from a distanced perspective, and suddenly. suddenly, it’s azathoth and the outer gods of lovecraftian lore, played completely straight. i’ve heard enough people compare azathoth and kdj that i think i can say this much

you wanna know something i’ve thought about a lot regarding kdj and the oldest dream? about yjh becoming a terrorist, and how kimcom willingly went back into the fray, how they returned to the previous timeline - and how some people couldn’t comprehend their choices at first? it makes me think of that old trope of ‘going mad from the revelation’, how some people say that gazing upon this otherworldly being’s true form or ‘learning the truth of the world’ would surely make someone go mad.

go mad with what, though? insanity? or grief? because so, so often, one’s pain is incomprehensible to outsiders, and fail to understand how or why you lash out or break down. it’s a depressing pattern in real life, too. kdj goes mad with grief and self-hatred, learning the truth; kimcom take on the insane route of going through the apocalypse again just to reach the end; yjh is unable to heal, to cope with a world without the scenarios and without his companion to bear through it, and so he fights over the replica of the arc. from an outsider’s perspective, without the understanding that the people involved are all brokenhearted over truths only they know, it might come off as insanity. but it’s all just grief.

with that said, however, to have someone jung heewon KNEW, cruel as he was, replaced by someone from a world beyond - and to start singing the praise of someone else’s name? to say ‘i need to find them?’ how all of them look to one name that outsiders simply DO NOT KNOW, to hail this unknown person as important, as an idol, as… as a god…

the 41st turn before their version of shin yoosung travelled to the other worldlines is a forgotten story, and by orv logic forgotten stories are outer gods. in lovecraftian lore, the outer gods sought to wake the blind idiot god azathoth, who in orv is represented by kdj dreaming for ‘eternity’. also, the Outer Gods of orv (the one actually being called as such right now) see the side story - which is the ‘forgotten’ 41st turn, now being written in where once it was not - as their chance to finally be written on the wall. so it’s. it’s. this is just singshong taking their lovecraftian elements to their logical extreme

interestingly, however, kdj isn’t the only reader anymore, is he? orv places a lot of emphasis on communication and writing on the wall, but in the side story it could perhaps be interpreted as ‘trying to be read by one person in particular’. and then the readers that die are labelled as ‘kdj33’ or ‘kdj47’, reducing them to being ‘just a part’, but… they’re all different people. they’re all people who took in kdj’s story, thus his story becomes a part of their own - but only a part. i’ve said that before, but.

well, you can’t force your own narrative on to someone else.

han sooyoung tried that, actually, didn’t she? tried to get kdj back through ending the story early only to realize the hurt she was causing and backing off. you can’t always reach people in the way you want. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop trying, but there’s also a point where you need to recede, to compromise. am i making sense? i have no idea where singnshong is taking this story, but i’m looking at hsy with lee hakhyun and ceokdj with the readers turned kdj fragments and the outer gods wanting their story written on the wall and. i feel like i’m starting to see a pattern. i could also be hallucinating, but i could also not be. i offer this for your consideration

okay i put this aside for a bit but yes. oh my god. eldritch kdj.. i had not heard about this before, but that's so interesting thinking about it through that lens. and in the side story, hsy forcing the memories of orv on jhw to try to break her.. the explict mentioning of han sooyoung being seen as a 'god' in that moment...

--

fun fact, if you don't remember! lovecraftian horrors are also mentioned as outer gods in orv

chapter 179. when talking with the devourer of dreams, kdj mentioned these modifiers

the fear of sarnath - bokrug

horror from the hills - chaugnar faugn

master of r'lyeh - cthulhu

--

now, adding my own thoughts - the pattern is identity. stories.

there's something wrong with everything in this turn.

the kkomas were cute. until it was revealed that they were dead readers. though.. is that not also kind of what the yoo joonghyuk kkomas are? they may have all been yoo joonghyuk, but their lives in that turn were their own. <- however. the difference here is that while the yjh kkomas were all 'yoo joonghyuk' these kdj kkomas were NOT. they all had their own lives before being brought to wos, and upon being killed and placed in the theater.. they lost themselves.. which is terrifying to think about. you die, and you're brought back to watch your companions go on without you, but you're not yourself anymore. you're kim dokja, who wants to continue watching the stories on the screen.

the transmigrated readers. until the latest chapters, we hadn't been shown the real effect of the readers possessing characters in this world (honestly, we were led to believe that most people transmigrated into 'extras' without their own story. but that's not true, is it?). cheon inho has no one close to him as far as we know (lol), but that's not the same for others. what about the people who knew the possessed characters? lee hakhyun realizes this in the latest chapter, that maybe him and the readers coming here were an additional disaster for the people that lived here.

lee hakhyun's problems,, he's constantly going back and forth on 'lee hakhyun' and 'cheon inho', and there's clearly something wrong with the way he sees himself... we know more about him that he does currently, and if he does find out. i don't think things are going to end well.

and of course. everything about kim dokja. his name is in everyone's minds, the readers are desperate for a source of hope and he has become that to them. kim dokja is being idolized. even before the scenarios, there were those using kim dokja's story in the same way he used yjh. it's not framed as a negative, if that's what you need to do survive, then you should always do what you can to survive, no matter what. but even when you borrow stories, you need to stay yourself. you are your own person.

there's a clear connection with all of these, and it's identity. who someone is, the way they're seen, their stories. what makes you yourself? stories make up who you are, and these outer gods want their own stories written down on the wall to define themselves. rep kdj wanting the readers to forge a new story, lee hakhyun discovering stories that were never told in orv.

right now, nobody's happy. time is running out for the outer gods, the readers have unwittingly destroyed others by taking over these 'extras', kimcom are still desperately searching for their star, our dear protagonist is continuing to doubt himself. and kim dokja is still watching.

...this is orv. not everyone will get their happy ending. their goals oppose each other. we can hope for the best, but that isn't going to happen.

[orcelito]

For the low, low price of Mom Who Doesn't Care About You, you can get the experience of coming out to her..... twice!

More specifically I came out to her in a letter back in 2020 But Also my sister recently accidentally "outed" me but also not actually because I *already told her* I was gay. But she just forgot

I'm literally so astounded by it that it circles back around to being funny. And she wonders why I dont try to have a relationship with her 😭😭😭😂😂😂

[todayisafridaynight]

List of rgg charas with in-universe Wikipedia pages. Go

ryo aoki

r. ryo aoki :)

[mainfaggot]

the last time i felt emotionally fulfilled in a friendship was when i was 15, and before that when i was 13. im turning 21 next month

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[britneyshakespeare]

i dont know where to scream about this but i honestly feel some sort of weird relief that r//nbow high is declining. i knoooow i know it's popular and they've been such high quality dolls and collectors have loved them and some(?) people like the web series (or do they? ive heard mixed things but ive never had any interest in watching it) but oh god. i just. sometimes it takes me awhile to appreciate modern doll lines and their aesthetics but i just could not get past their weird fish faces and in general i do not like monochrome styling themes. i realize their designers did so much with their concepts, i realize a lot of heart and effort went into them, and i completely understand why so many people were floored with the quality of the dolls and the rate at which they were being put out. even though the prices kept rising for them, you could at least see where your money was going, like they were always so well-constructed and doing new things. but like. at the end of the day. on a very basic level they were just never all that aesthetically pleasing to me and it was kind of maddening to see all that potential going towards a line of dolls that had just... like... facial proportions i could not get past lol.

[star2stop]

mhhhh i think im gonna open a ninjago side blog,,,,

i just think it deserves its own little thing since i have so many things to say bout it and so many headcnons/ideas to explore already (and i dont want this blog to overflow with ninjago content lol)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nomairuins]

ill be like I can totally make a lighthearted post mentioning a kink i have and i wont even freak abt it. and then i freak abt it

[koobiie]

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*