#so i’m going off memory

[tothelighthouse1]

i’m 10/10 convinced adam parrish is in matthews or thayer.

there’s no way he’s in a union by the books’ description. he’s not in mass or lionel or mower. those are fake dorms (jk love them but he’s not there). weld and grays aren’t giving the right vibe. there’s no way adam is in canaday and managed to get his therefore many roomates out for the night. wigg also doesn’t really fit the description, it’s too tucked away. hollis/stoughton room set up doenst work at all for that night ronan stays over. staus feels too out of the way. holworthy room set up with shared bathroom and too many roommates and detached basement doesn’t work at all.

thayer room set up doesn’t really fit since it’s mostly two rooms too but none of them do and vibes kinda fit?? i think they were playing cards in the downstairs common room and thayer has a nice one. location also fits from what i remember.

matthews fits the vibe then most and the room set up kinda works in terms of sizing and number of roommates. also the fact of having to take the stairs is yep. but the common room isn’t great

—

ok so this is part 0, all dorm memory analysis part 1, the thayer analysis part 2, the weld analysis

[doctorsiren]

he’s mad she ratted him out

[frogs-in3-hills]

normal after-school hangouts

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

“Even when we’re apart, our hearts are always connected. Don’t forget that.”

Finally fulfilling my years long dream of making a station of awakening for my best boy 🥹❤️

Thank you very much to @catraears for their template!

[ ✿ Please do not reupload/edit/use without proper credit or linking back ✿]

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,

[comixandco]

ik that taako’s voice in the first episode was because justin was still figuring out his character but i like to imagine that before joining bob taako put on fake accents to avoid being recognised, since he was wanted for the whole poisoning incident, but also for the bit

and then kravitz changes accents mid-fight in crystal kingdom and then drops them during their date at the chug ‘n’ squeeze and taako’s like oh 😳 same hat 😳

[jerksbitch]

i’m an spn purist , in my mind s1-2 is the only canon i really need to know

[otaku553]

Hello! I saw your recent art of sabo, and in the tags you mentioned the big 3 of Shounen. I know it’s One piece and Naruto, but what’s the third? How come you like the character? Lovely artwork, it’s candy for the soul!! Thank you •u•

Ah thank you!!! The big three of shonen (for I guess the previous generation?) are Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Naruto and Bleach have already ended but it seems like One Piece is still going quite strong, despite the new generation of shonen anime (including Hero Aca, Demon Slayer, and the third spot is still debated! Probably JJK is my guess though that falls into its own sub genre of shonen dark fantasy I suppose)

Here are my favs! I’ll put the reasons why I like them in the read more because it’s quite long :)

Despite watching Naruto first I could never actually finish it because it was so long so I kind of just osmosed the later parts of shippuden through fanfics and other such media ^^; I think it’s pretty difficult to pick a definitive fav for Naruto because I feel like it tends to fumble a bit of its character writing? I think if I had to pick one maybe young Kakashi but still kind of eh. Maybe I just didn’t watch far enough to get attached

As for Bleach, I picked it up years ago around middle school and then dropped it after the first hundred episodes or so because filler got boring for younger me but then I picked it up again in high school and managed to at least get past aizen! And then I dropped it there because I wasn’t interested in any continuation after what seemed like an already pretty strong ending.

Toshiro is my favorite because he falls into all niches of character tropes that I enjoy including but not limited to: child genius who acts responsible but is still somewhat immature, cold personality along with ice powers but fierce loyalty to close relationships. I especially enjoy child genius characters for the contradictory dichotomy of what is expected of them in terms of maturity and knowledge and the amount of pressure these kinds of characters face and how they handle it! That said, I enjoy him more for the tropes that he falls into and my personal interpretation of him rather than canon writing for him. I think that though canon is an alright base, he doesn’t get much time to shine (character-wise instead of combat-wise).

And Sabo. Oh my goodness I am brainrotting so hard over Sabo right now. The ASL siblings in general have a vice grip on my heart and really are not letting go. There is so much tragedy in the way that they are written, that works because there are three of them. Ace and Luffy spend so much effort trying to save the only brother they have left in the world not realizing that if they go they’ll be the first to go actually because Sabo is still alive, and Sabo could have done so much and changed so much if only he had regained his memories sooner. Why didn’t he remember sooner? I can only assume it’s because he didn’t want to remember, because he grew out his hair to cover a scar he wasn’t proud of, because he was running away from his origins when he lost his memories and maybe that stuck with him. I don’t even remember when Sabo was introduced as a character because I don’t think he was mentioned during Marineford? But he’s such a compelling character because he does so much to save the world and yet is unable to save his own brother! And he’s written to fit with Ace and Luffy incredibly well, being the voice of reason where they can’t be.

[xskyll]

Page 15, for the second time! Apologies to those that saw the version I posted last night with the typo. My days lately have been busy, so sometimes I feel a bit brain foggy. A couple of people left comments on either here or Twitter and it killed me to delete everything. ;_;

Prev / Next

First

[stitchkiss]

yknow what? yknow fuckin WHAT? this look

THIS. LOOK. !!!! WHAT WAS IT FOR ??? I NEED AN EXPLANATION!! THE SCENE? THE SHOT? THE FACT THAT THEYRE JUST STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER AWAY FROM THE REST OF THE PACK??? like,,,, theo had no reason to look at liam at all but he did anyway and he decided to look at liam like THAT!?!??!? pls what was the reason😭😭😭

[krazycartoonist]

I know ppl don’t care about my bnha oc BUT I DO SO I DONT CARE BACK !!!

[bluehexagone]

Realism is fun till it isn’t and I realize I’ve already committed too far and can’t just scrap it but I know it will take me too long so here are some sacrifices you may see finished later on

[zeb-z]

to be fair, I don't think qroier not trusting qbad is particularly new haha. i think it's been going on for a while even before purgatory. the only thing purgatory did with that particularly relationship is it gave qroier an excuse to be more vocal in his annoyance

( @lucienff the themes of these are similar so I’m answering the ask and responding in one post instead of the comments, hope you don’t mind :3 )

I agree with the read that Roier didn’t particularly trust Bad before, but I think that at a baseline, Roier doesn’t have much trust with most anyone to begin with. I think everything that had happened with Spreen back in the beginning of the server is something that is a large cause in that, because its still something he is suffering from months later - it’s just in true Roier fashion, it’s something he doesn’t really talk about to others. He’s only recently shared it and talked about it with Cellbit.

But even then, he had a respect for Bad. When the eggs first went missing, and they were both visibly affected by the stress, they had moments of somewhat acknowledging the other, but sticking to the script of “oh I’m fine” yknow what I mean? And before purgatory, yeah, there was no doubt that Bad cared for the eggs, and could be trusted in that regard.

But post Purgatory, I think that baseline trust has been shaken. He doesn’t let Bad see Pepito when he visited the castle, makes excuses for him to leave, and then afterwards talks to himself about how he’s angry that everyone seems to have forgotten Purgatory (both in the context that he also doesn’t trust Pepito, and he doesn’t want Bad coming up to him as if the past two weeks didn’t happen). When Leo wakes up, and Bad is around trying to talk with them, he makes a point of pulling her away. Of putting himself between Leo and Bad. And it’s in the subtle, usual jesting way he’s done before with Bad (“you can only drink lava once yknow. sure, try it, I’m not going though!” and “stranger danger Leo, stranger danger!” etc etc. said with enough dramatics it keeps it lighthearted, because that’s what Roier does).

I don’t think Roier is actively thinking he should mistrust Bad with the eggs specifically. I don’t think that he thinks Bad doesn’t care about the eggs. I just think he hasn’t fully trusted Bad before, and now since Purgatory he doesn’t trust him at all, for good reason - Bad was very much an instigator and a cause for both his own torment and his family’s (Jaiden namely, what with the spawn killing, and Cellbit, Foolish). It’s no longer a ‘this guy is a thorn in my side and I don’t trust him’ kinda petty drama between islanders. It’s a ‘this guy went back on the deal to keep the score 50/50 and did so under the impression we as the losing team could die’ kind of situation. A ‘we spent the past few weeks in hell and this guy repeatedly not only killed, but went over the top in tormenting my family and myself, I don’t trust him’ kind of situation. It’s not an excuse to be petty or properly annoyed, it’s a result of how Bad burned all his bridges in purgatory. It’s in large part a trauma response.

It doesn’t matter that Bad has never once been a threat to Leo, that he’s taken care of her multiple times, that he has always checked in with the eggs and cared for them - it matters that Leo is his sister, that Pepito is under his care, and he Does Not Trust Bad.

[arcadianico]

quackity continued his walking away even while people were talking thing this stream. i really do think part of it is being overwhelmed. he’s so used to isolation and lack of noise that it has to be jarring to be around so many people, especially when they’re getting answers (which you don’t have) from you. i also wonder how much of his distracted wandering was him experiencing the world for the “first” time. there was a kind of childlike curiosity sometimes in his behaviour

[haledamage]

Past, Present, Future

I was planning to write something a little more seasonally-appropriate, but stumbled across a WIP that my brain decided to latch onto instead. So, uh… Happy Life Day?

@queen-scribbles gave me this prompt in a conversation we had well over a year ago, and I’ve finally finished it 😅 the specific request was something along the lines of “LET THEM SMOOCH ALREADY DAMMIT” for Qora/Arcann, and the prompts were:

“don’t leave, illusion, too loud, or harsh whisper”

I’m not sure where exactly this fits on the timeline, but definitely later on in-game. probably post-Echoes of Vengeance, but I… haven’t actually finished that questline yet, so there should be little to no spoilers 😆 ~2.5k words, trigger warning for abuse/violence against children, because this is Qora and Arcann we’re talking about

---

“Again.”

The overseer’s stern voice echoed through the chamber, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

The training room was dark beyond the platform Qora stood in the center of, giving her the illusion that she was alone. But she wasn’t. She knew she had an audience, but who they were or how many, she had no idea. The whole Academy could’ve been watching, and she wouldn’t know the difference.

The sweet-metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, along with the acrid odor of sweat and the ever-present ozone tang of lightning.

There was blood in her mouth, too. Her lip was bleeding sluggishly, split by a lucky blow… five fights ago? Six? She’d lost count.

Four acolytes stepped out of the shadows to join her on the platform. They were all older than her - most of the other acolytes were - and they were all armed.

Qora tightened the grip on her own practice blades, the handles digging into her palms. Her combat stance was steady, even if the rest of her didn’t feel it.

“Begin.”

The first acolyte lunged too quickly, too eager for the kill, and didn’t have the safety of numbers to protect him. One hard strike to the jaw, and he was on the floor before the others had even started moving.

The second and third were smart enough to attack together, both rushing her in tandem. Their swords were a blur of motion, almost too fast to follow, but she managed to keep them at bay. When the larger of the two raised his blade for what was meant to be an incapacitating blow, Qora reached out with the Force and dragged the smaller one between them. The blow took her opponent out instead. After that, the other one was dispatched easily.

The fourth snuck up behind her as soon as Two and Three were down. The pommel of his sword slammed into the back of her skull.

Her vision went white. She lashed out on instinct, swinging her blade in the direction the blow had come from.

She heard her opponent hit the mat, and followed right after him.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

“Again.”

The overseer’s voice sounded farther away, hard to hear over her own too loud heartbeat. Static hissed at the edges of Qora’s vision, and her eyes refused to focus. She could feel her consciousness slipping, and clung to it with everything she had.

“Again.”

The repeated order was a threat. A concussion would be the least of her worries if she didn’t stand up soon, but her legs refused to obey her orders.

A hand appeared in what remained of her field of vision, and Qora snapped her head up. Forcing herself to focus past the pain, she followed the arm up to… a boy. 

A boy she knew--though she wasn’t sure how she knew him. 

He looked to be around twelve or thirteen, the same age as her, with the same buzzed hair that she and all the other younger acolytes had, and gentle, pale blue eyes. The fine white robes he wore were much different than the grays and blacks the rest of them had, and contrasted so sharply against their dark surroundings that he almost seemed to glow.

“On your feet, Qora,” he said in a soft, raspy voice, his words firm but not demanding. “The next wave won’t wait for you to recover.”

“They never do,” she replied dryly. Her own voice sounded unfamiliar to her ears, a Corellian drawl instead of the crisp edges of Dromund Kaas. Like someone had filed all the corners off of her accent. She hadn't sounded like that in a long time.

She shook off the thought and took the offered hand, letting him help her to her feet. He didn’t flinch away from the cold metal of her prosthetic, or from the way she stumbled as her bruised and battered limbs protested the change in position. He just held on and let her take her time steadying herself.

He only let her go once he was sure she could stand on her own. “Are you alright?”

Part of her wanted to laugh at the question, no matter how sincere it was, but she bit it back. Instead, she said, “You shouldn’t have come here, Arcann. It’s not--not safe to be around me. Especially not here.”

“Just try and stop me.” Despite her warning and his challenge in response, Arcann carefully cupped the back of her head. The pain eased immediately in a warm yellow glow and a muted hum of the Force. “Unless you’d rather face them on your own?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“...No.” Qora felt guilty as soon as the word was out. It was stupid and selfish and Arcann was going to get hurt because of her, but it was too late to take it back. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“Never.” His hand slid from the back of her head along her jaw, until his thumb brushed her bottom lip. Another whisper of Force healing, and there was no evidence of the split lip besides the blood in her mouth. “There is nowhere I would rather be than by your side.”

There was a sound of boots scuffing against stone as someone else approached, and Qora and Arcann turned in tandem, shifting until they stood back to back. Blindly, she reached back and pressed one of her swords into his hand.

He squeezed her hand before taking the offered weapon. “You know this is a dream, right?” he murmured, as six new acolytes stepped into the light with them.

“Yes.” She knew it the same way she knew Arcann’s name, knew the difference in her own accent. “Doesn’t make it less real.”

Further conversation was halted as the overseer’s voice snapped “Begin,” and the acolytes closed in.

Qora and Arcann moved as one, staying back to back in the center of the platform. When one of their assailants rushed toward Arcann’s left, Qora spun to intercept, knowing his vision was limited on that side--or would be, someday, in a future far from this place--and caught the oncoming vibrosword with her own before it could make contact. She took that one down with a sharp elbow strike to the jaw.

A second acolyte took advantage of her momentary distraction and threw their sword, sending it in a Force-aimed arc toward her now-unguarded side.

Arcann snatched it out of the air without even looking, still holding back another two opponents with his other hand. He presented Qora the hilt with a small, playful flourish. “Your weapon, my lord.”

She laughed, exultant and a touch manic, as she swept the sword out in front of her, sending another opponent scrambling backwards to avoid it. It was the first time the Academy walls had ever heard her laughter, even in dreams.

The remaining assailants didn’t stand a chance. They were on the floor before they had time to react.

“How many more are there?” Arcann asked, when they were alone again. He hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, that first round barely enough to make him breathe faster.

“However many it takes.”

“Again,” the overseer called out, but neither of them heeded the implied threat this time. Qora was no longer afraid, now that Arcann was by her side.

“Takes for what?”

“For me to learn my lesson.” She stepped away from him toward the edge of the platform. From there, she could just barely see past the heavy darkness to the dozens of faceless, nameless acolytes that still waited for their turn. Far more of them than there’d ever been while she was a student (a prisoner, a gladiator, a slave) at the Academy.

She felt when Arcann stepped up beside her, though his footsteps made no sound. “Is this training, or a punishment?”

She laughed again, empty, humorless, bitter. “You’d be surprised how often the two coincide.”

“No. I would not.” The anger in his voice was a distant thing, an echo of past rage rather than something fresh. His hand gently covered hers, easing the white-knuckled grip she still had on the vibroblade. “This isn’t your life anymore, Qora. You don’t have to keep fighting.”

The sword fell from her hand, and she reached out to cling to him instead. “This is who I am. What I was made for.”

“Not anymore.” He tugged on her hand, coaxing her to turn around. When she did, his other hand settled over her cheek, the warmth of his touch comforting in the chill of the training arena. “It’s time to wake up.”

Qora awoke with a gasp to find herself in the familiar confines of her quarters on Odessen. The blankets were hopelessly tangled around her legs. The cluttered shelves and tables nearest the bed were in disarray from the Force reacting to her emotions, some of their contents spilling onto the floor.

Arcann’s arm tightened around her waist, and just his presence was enough to clear her mind and slow the panicked flurry of her heart. Without a word, she rolled over and pressed her face into his shoulder.

His hand traveled up and down the length of her spine, gentle and soothing but firm enough to anchor her. With every caress, the Academy fell farther away.

Eventually, she felt calm enough to pull back, if only just far enough to see his face. The look she found there was patient and understanding, embers of anger shining in his eyes but very clearly not directed at her.

“Sometimes it feels like no matter how far I travel, part of me will always be twelve years old, alone in that pit,” she confessed quietly. Arcann’s anger flared a little brighter, but he didn’t interrupt. “It was supposed to break me. So they could reforge me into something more useful. I guess in some ways, it did.”

She certainly didn’t bear any resemblance to the child she’d been before the Sith took her, that little girl who crawled through Corellian junkyards for scraps she could turn into art. Sweet little Qora, who could fix anything you brought her, be it a speeder or a teddy bear or a broken arm. She liked to think that girl might have become a healer, if she’d been able to join the Jedi like she was meant to.

Qora let her hands wander, fingertips tracing the lines of scars on Arcann’s shoulder and chest, following the edge of where warm skin and firm muscle gave way to the cool metal of his cybernetics.

“This happened on Korriban, too, didn’t it? Not long before we met.” It wasn’t really a question, and she didn’t really expect an answer, but she got one anyway.

“Yes.” He caught her hand and stopped its further exploration, pressing it flat over his heart. “And they paid dearly for it. My brother and I made sure of that.”

“Good. I hope you burned it all down,” she said in a harsh whisper. She hoped Arcann and Thexan had reduced the entire planet to ash, every tomb, every temple, every overseer, every blasted k’lor’slug crushed under the might of the Eternal Empire. “Not even the memory of that place deserves to be left standing.”

Rage burned so hot in her chest that it hurt to breathe, and she shook with the effort to push it down. Tears blurred her vision and stung the corners of her eyes, but Qora refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of her tears, even when they weren’t here to see it.

Arcann didn't reply, but instead rolled them over so that she was on her back, his body caging her in and pressing her down into the mattress. It grounded her, forcing her out of the past and back into her own body, driving away all thoughts of Korriban and the Academy and the shadows of the training room.

He kissed her then, slow and deep, demanding her attention to be on him and him alone. That was a command she was more than happy to follow. The fire in her chest receded, replaced by a much more pleasant warmth that built and spread through her under his skillful guidance, and the tremor in her hands abated when she cupped his face between them.

It was only when the mood started to shift from comfort to desire, kisses turning heated and hands starting to roam, that Arcann broke away. He was breathing harder just from kissing her than he had been at any point in the nightmare they’d just escaped.

“They will never touch you again. I swear it,” he vowed, deep voice solemn and utterly sincere.

“I believe you.” She exhaled a long breath, releasing the last lingering tension with it, and drew him back down enough for their foreheads to touch. “Thank you, Arcann. I needed to hear that.”

No matter what the Sith Council thought, or the machinations of whoever they’d decided to blindly follow this week, she was beyond their reach now. She had no doubt that if they tried to subjugate her again, they would learn their lesson the hard way. And Arcann would be among the first in line to teach it to them.

She was grateful that he was so willing to remind her of that, when she needed it.

Qora let out another sigh and slid her hands up to the back of his neck, playing idly with the hair at his nape. It was only barely long enough to run her fingers through, but she adored it. Both for what it represented for Arcann’s healing and growth and because it was just… pretty. His hair was silky soft to the touch, and the warm caramel color made his eyes appear an even brighter blue. It warmed her heart every time she looked at him, to see this visible proof of how far they’d come.

They should probably talk about what had just happened, she knew that, but she wasn’t in any hurry to broach the subject and reopen those wounds for the second time in one night. It’s not like this was their first time sharing dreams, anyway, even if none of the others had been quite so… authentic. Dwelling on it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” There wouldn’t be any more rest for her tonight, but that didn’t mean Arcann had to suffer on her account. “There are still a few hours until--”

“No.” How he could put so much intention into a single syllable, she’d never know, but when combined with the heated look he gave her, it was enough to make her shiver. 

“Oh?” she said in feigned innocence, even as she lightly scraped her nails against his scalp. It earned her a low rumble that she felt more than heard, something between a warning growl and a contented purr. “Did you have something else in mind?”

His smile was soft, and so was the kiss that followed it; neither did anything to dim the desire burning in his eyes.

“The past will always haunt us, in one form or another.” He took one of her hands in his and slowly led it down from his neck and over his shoulder, his chest, his ribs, lingering on a scar there.

It was one Qora knew very well. And she should--after all, she’d put it there herself. During their last fight, when she’d “defeated” him. She brushed her thumb over the thin, raised line; such a small souvenir from something that had been so important.

Arcann only let her linger for a few seconds before moving on, guiding her deliberately lower. His lips grazed her cheek before finding firmer purchase on the sensitive spot under her ear. “There is no need for us to give it more power than it already has. I would rather… appreciate what’s right in front of me.”

“By all means. Appreciate away.” Her breath hitched when he kissed the hollow of her throat, ruining any attempt at keeping her tone light and teasing. She gave it up as a lost cause, and surrendered completely to him, and to whatever came next.

[gggoldfinch]

What're your opinions on spider maul?

Maul is in the top 5 bracket of my All-Time Favorite Blorbos. so obviously I love every iteration of him. But ya Spider Maul is incredibly tragic and I cried the first time I saw his reveal in TCW as an adult because DAMN boy went thru a LOT.

I think the “realism” of him being emaciated with overgrown horns and nails, literally out of his fucking mind and living all alone in a cave of trash was really the most haunting and painful part. Like I know Talzin “fixed him” afterwards but doubt that made a decade+ worth of trauma just vanish like that. Does he lose sleep over it? Is he more on-edge than he was before Lotho Minor? Probably. I also choose to believe (as someone with IBD and somewhat chronic back pain) that he is irrevocably disabled and knowing him probably struggles to cope with that. Like dude lost all of his lower abdominal organs, part of his spine, and his legs. you look him and tell me he isn’t disabled in multiple ways. (I could go on and on about this)

On a lighter note I originally thought the spider prosthesis was kinda goofy lookin, but now i see the usefulness and ingenuity of it (and how it’s pretty cool)

plus. spider body made of junk or nah I’d still let him hit 🤷🏻‍♀️