Happy Birthday To Our Dearest Author!

Drew a silly little comics for hallorvween on twitter ^^

thinking again about kim dokja's face censor and how its such a good mechanic. foreshadows the most ancient dream reveal. shows how his desperate wish to be a normal child effects him still to this day. functions as an extension of his reader-self-insert status. and most excellently shows exactly how much his disassociation and distancing from everyone and everything in his life affects him, to the point where his loved ones can't even recognize his face. that when they think of him it is with his back turned and expression obscured because they never knew anything else. no one can recall his features, be reminded of them when they look at his mother or see his familiar facial expressions in his kids. he's perpetually a blank slate, someone neither we nor his loved ones can see anything distinctive in because thats the point of his character and i so deeply adore it. someone needs to get sing shong out of the kitchen because they cannot keep cooking like this

And so, stuck on the infernal train, he reads, and he reads, and he reads, until he can read no more. But how should he be permitted to stop? The only way he could stop is if he were no longer able. The only way he could stop is if he could no longer see the words on the page. The only way he could stop is if he no longer see.

reblog with a spoiler for your wip with zero context. no context allowed.

I'm sick of internet negativity, so let's combat it: reblog this and saying something nice/pay a compliment to the prev in the tags.

here’s the thing it’s like an integral part of orv, in my opinion, is that to some degree it will be hostile to the reader. every reader. people who come for the number go up power leveling will be put through s&s’ philosophical agenda/literary conspiracy board, people who come for the overarching themes and narratives have to sit through fucking capture the flag arc and other such agonies. do not tell me of a fan of orv who enjoyed every development every aspect every word I will not believe you.

googling shit like "why do i feel bad after hanging out with my friends" and all of the answers are either "you need better friends" (i don't; my friends are wonderful) or "your social battery is drained, you need to rest and regain your energy levels" (i don't; i've got tons of energy, it's just manifesting as over-the-top neurotic mania). why is this even happening. it's like some stupid toll i have to pay as a punishment for enjoying myself too much

ORV SPOILERS but can u believe kdj bombastically spilled heracles' whole tea just to buy time for his own giant soldier

A KimCom pantheon and their domains according to Dream Brain:

Han Donghoon: shadows

Lee Gilyoung: insects

Lee Seolhwa: healing

Jung Heewon: retribution and also fire

Yoo Sangah: beauty and also thread/weaving

Kim Dokja: illusions

Yoo Joonghyuk: sword

I have the head canon that Kim Dokja starts to avoid reflective surfaces at all times, but especially after he first sees his attributes window.

Like, at first it isn’t obvious, he just doesn’t really like when his phone is turned off and he can see the reflection, but then it gets worse, he glances at a mirror after washing his hands and quickly averts his eyes, because when he looks, is that really him? This strange man in the mirror with eyes that seem like bottomless pits into unknown galaxies?

Then the attribute window happens, and there is a hole in his face, not just a bit blurry but smudged, completely indistinguishable, with a complete non-existence where his eyes should be. Gone are the galaxies, nothing but an abyss, unending and still growing.

When he arrives at 1863, after everything has calmed down and he has gathered his bearings, he stumbles across a full body mirror while in his demon king form (just roll with it) and realises that he can see nothing of himself but the horns and wings, and his own clothes, but none of those are really his though, just byproducts of the scenarios. Nothing left of him is really there anymore.

He full out refuses to look in mirrors from then until Kaizenix, with the thought that this is a stranger’s body, surely it’ll be fine if he sneaks a peak? But it isn’t a stranger’s body he sees then. It’s that blurry, white coat wearing man that simply cannot be him.

He looks at his arm, clothed in a fine poet’s blouse with golden thread lining it, blond hair falling over his eyes, and the mirror looks at its coat, with its hair being an ebony.

In Journey to the West, it is at its worst. His skin moves, with new slit shaped scars that have no source appearing after leaving N’gai. These open, and he sees those same piercing galaxy-like eyes running all over his skin. The worst part is that they work. Two eyes became thirty, thirty became more than a hundred when it happened all over his limbs. He hasn’t ever felt this disoriented, even when he was burnt alive and had to experience the first use of Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint stage 3.

A sweeping look not look, nothing is just a look anymore to appraise how he will get to the scriptures is interrupted by his eyes falling on the lake, and that figure in a now dirty white coat looks back at him. All he does is look. All that is beneath the coat is a mess of eyes.

After the final scenario, he looks at the oldest dream. If he lets his vision blur he sees that mass of eyes underneath the boy’s skin, watching, looking, reading.

On the train, surrounded by companions, his cheek has blood on it in the reflection. He wipes it off. There is no mass of eyes, and it is once again his face. No galaxies, no abyss.

51% of him sees himself in his phone. There is no longer a reflection.