Freed up almost a hundred gigs on my PC, hoping to do more tomorrow.

beastly reminder

finally dug up my photo from the time i did a mole divination and scooped one right out of the ground

I know we all want redeemed Ben Solo to look and dress like his father at some point. But- ok, hear me out: There hAs to be sOme Lando spirit in there, SOMEWHERE. Like, come on, the CAPE? Are you telling me that Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa, grandson of fashion Queen Amidala, former Jedi padawan and Supreme Fashion Leader himself wouldn't fancy a cape at all? I don't believe u.

Lemme explain.

high waisted Lando pants but put inside the boots.

Shorter cape. Kinda like Lando's in Solo.

High belt, cause it looks good on him and he knows it.

Dark grey. Mid grey. With a bit of off white. (I believe this is self explanatory.)

Later in life, as he grows older, maybe he will start adding some colour to his clothes.

I'm still not decided on my definitive headcanon. The one on the right is still very close to Luke in RotJ despite the grey and higher belt, but I kinda like it? Just cause it looks more elegant. I mean, sure, you could give him a blaster (I... probably will, at some point), depending on where the stories go and how you write him as Ben. I gave him two lightsabers, because, well- I will explain that when my fanfiction is finished. Or maybe I'll abandon the idea till then. :') (Yes, yes they would be white.) Gotta see if it serves the story well or if it's just my old love for young Ahsoka's yellow shoto lightsaber blinding me.

Jeez, there are so many directions you could take this character. Jedi, pilot, smuggler, gambler, senator... there's no end to this. I've seen so much Jedi Ben Solo fanart and I love all of them. I love the robes so much that I went and made some shape exploration with them.

But the thing is I'm not really feeling it. If I were to take the story into a new direction, no Jedi, no Sith, just Force sensitives, a new take on this whole idea, expanding on what Rian Johnson gave us - which, I am - I would probably go away from the traditional Jedi designs. Sure, it all also kinda depends on how you colour it, I guess...

*sighs* there could have been so much to explore and discover in IX. But, eh, let's not turn this into another tros rant.

In my "can't continue under this circumstances" era.

How I see season 5 going and I am BEYOND EXCITED

someone on discord sugested I draw this hehehhehehjejeh >U< kinda late to the trend but whatever lol and decided to whip out the water mark again just in case haha

day 40: pink hedgehogs!

Companion.

beastly reminder

waxing gibbous 12/24/23 🌔

My Inktober Day 1 - Dream Disclaimer: Not part of the official Inktober prompts. I just wanted to do an "everyday challenge." Inktober is a perfect excuse and I also have new traditional and digital ink brushes. ALL "days" will be black-and-white to practice my inking and lighting.

Dreamtale by Jokublog

Backup.

page 562 - Do you ever feel overwhelmed scrolling through all the pictures you took, that you transferred from one phone to the next, backed up on a laptop or locked up in the cloud? Memories that could have been left to fallow, instead rise up zombie-like into your emotional present on a random Tuesday night when you scroll back too far?

There is so much and you don't need most of it. Most memory is meant to disappear after all; maybe only rising up when the light and the smell of an evening combine just so, or a photo falls out of an old notebook. Save the very few -- privileged or damned -- we all have corners and rooms that stay dark. You are meant to forget. It is not natural to scroll and be reminded of every 20 minutes from the last 15 years.

And so you feel feel sick from remembering. And you feel sick because you can't remember, because the remembering you just subjected yourself to isn't really remembering. It's forced and unnatural; a decisive moment abstracted from the life that surrounded it. There was smell and touch and emotion present when the photo was taken. Gone, killed by the visual. Another memory tried to surface, spurred by the photo in front of you. Gone, recall smashed apart by distraction. Only the remorseless engine remains, the piston of the scroll as a new picture is stamped over the old and again and again and anything gnawing at the edge of consciousness never has a chance. You're left with the feeling that you've lost something before it was even in your grasp. That you had finally remembered the combination to the safe where your most precious treasures are stored but the door was slammed, the dial spun and the numbers changed again.