#just old and frustrating and not quite for me

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[twilightkitkat]

What if Worst Wolverine was the same Wolverine from Origins? What if he learned that "Deadpool" Wade Wilson was "Weapon X" Wade Wilson?

Inspired by this ask.

---

When Logan first met Wade in the bar, he felt oddly familiar. Like he knew him, but he couldn't quite place where. He felt nostalgia and regret and something else bubbling up to the surface without his consent. It felt foreign, and he brushed it off when he sobered up. But he kept it in the back of his mind.

But he kept being familiar. His voice, the way he fought, his mannerisms... it was all reminiscent of somebody he felt he should know. Someone long gone.

But it couldn't be, right? All of his old teammates were dead. If this world followed a similar timeline, there's no way this could be someone he knew. He must just be grasping at straws. Delusional, as usual.

It all came to a head a few weeks after the dust had settled. Wade and Logan were drinking together in their apartment, and Wade lopsidedly grinned at Logan with flushed cheeks. Logan felt his heart stutter.

"You know, you were just as cool back then," Wade giggled. "You looked good when you were younger, though I think the silver fox look fits you more with the grey streaks."

Logan frowned. "What do you mean when I was younger?"

"C'monnnnn Wolvie," Wade cooed as he leaned his head against his hand. "Back when we were in the Weapon X program together? I mean, we might not have been the best of buddies but it's kind of mean of you to forget about me."

It's like a part of Logan's brain unlocked. Wade fucking Wilson. Of course Logan remembered him, but he was so different that Logan had never made the connection.

Logan had a complicated relationship with Wade. He both respected him and thought he was a nuisance. Wade's skills were undeniable, but so was his motor mouth. Logan groaned in annoyance most of the time, but Wade's quips had managed to pull a snicker out of him on more than a few occasions. He tried to feign annoyance, but despite what people said, Wade was funny. His jokes were one of the only things that brought any life to the dreary and harsh environment.

Back then, Logan had still been tangled up with Victor and didn't let himself get too close to others (for both his own and their sakes). Still, Wade had found him in the corner of a bar a few times when the rest of the team was partying. He'd sat next to him and just... kept him company. He rambled on about inconsequential things, avoiding the more serious topics. He offered a distraction, a reprieve from the constant violence and solemn atmosphere. Logan appreciated it more than he could convey at the time.

And on the rare instances where Logan wanted to talk, Wade listened. Even if it was drunken gibberish, regrets and frustrations and feelings spilling out into the open. More notably, he didn't report him for having second doubts about the missions. Anyone else would've. Logan didn't do friends back then, but he'd consider Wade the closest thing he had to one.

And then Logan had quit. And left behind his teammates, cutting off all chance of further development. And then Logan had returned, but too late. By then, Wade had been turned into that... thing... by Stryker.

Oh god. The thought of it made Logan want to throw up. Wade, always chattering, with his mouth stitched shut. A mindless drone made to obey orders, a complete antithesis to the man who bent the rules and smiled privately at Logan when he rambled about what could be interpreted as treason. A mockery of everything he stood for.

That Wade was... the same as his Wade. Deadpool was Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson now was the same Wade Wilson from back then.

That means in his world, he'd let Wade down. He'd abandoned him and left him to be experimented on. Worse, he'd killed him. Logan killed Wade.

Fuck. The reason he didn't recognize Wade in the bar was because his was long dead. A clone that he himself had killed.

He looked at Wade, blushing and smiling with adoration in his eyes even as he feigned indignation at Logan not remembering. He looked at Wade and imagined him trapped in his own body, personality erased and gone. He imagined him with his mouth sewed shut, never to speak again. With a flat and empty stare instead of the twinkle in his eye.

Wade had saved him from himself. He'd given him a new home and fought for him to keep it. He'd been willing to die for Logan when nobody in his own universe would so much as look at him. Logan owed him an insurmountable debt, one that he couldn't even begin to repay in this lifetime. But he was trying. To make Wade happy, at least. It was his purpose in this world and would continue to be until Wade decided to throw him out or he finally kicked the bucket.

So the realization that he'd failed his own Wade so horribly made him viscerally ill. Even back then, Wade had been the only one to really see him when nobody else did. When even Victor just looked for a distorted reflection of himself and when everyone else wanted a mindless tool, Wade acknowledged Logan.

In a time when Wade didn't owe Logan shit, when he could've gotten in trouble for being complicit if Logan actually went through with what he said, Wade still protected him. And Logan didn't even think to check up on him in return. (Even when he knew Wade checked up on him. The Tylenol and water beside his bunk didn't appear out of nowhere. He didn't even remember climbing into bed before he passed out.)

Logan left him to die. Logan let Wade die. Wade, who was smart and funny and charming and caring and everything Logan was not. Wade, who had all of that stripped from him while Logan got to keep living. Logan, who took that chance and spat on Wade's fucking grave by ruining it all.

Logan wanted to throw up.

[m4rv3l-girl]

You’re not empty

Bucky x Y/N

Just an encounter - and a bit of healing for the white wolf…

Requests open

Warning: Some angst.

The city’s lights flickered like broken stars, casting a hazy glow over the streets as Y/N made her way down 9th Avenue.

She checked her phone for the third time, frowning at the lack of response. Bucky was supposed to meet her hours ago. He wasn’t usually one to forget plans, but there’d been a distance to him lately, a subtle drawing away that she couldn’t quite place. Tonight, though, that distance was becoming physical—stretching wider with every unanswered text.

She wandered through the familiar streets, her mind racing with worry and frustration. The occasional neon sign buzzed softly overhead, splashing the damp pavement with colors as she walked. The deep hum of the city around her almost drowned out her thoughts, leaving only the pulsing beat of her heart in the quiet spaces between.

She’d just about given up when a soft, orange glow caught her eye.

Tucked down a side street, a narrow bar with faded lettering on the window gleamed like a forgotten relic from another time.

Inside, she spotted him immediately.

Bucky sat hunched over the counter, shadows pooling under his eyes as he stared down into his drink. He looked distant, almost haunted, like a soldier lost in the memories of battles he’d rather forget. She stood there, watching him from the doorway, her heart tightening at the sight.

Finally, she approached, sliding onto the barstool beside him. He glanced up, a flicker of surprise softening the hard set of his jaw.

“Doll,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “What’re you doin’ here?”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “I could ask you the same thing, Bucky. You were supposed to meet me three hours ago. I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

He looked away, his fingers tightening around his glass. “Guess I just… got sidetracked.”

The tension settled between them, thick and heavy, filling the silence with unspoken words. She watched him closely, the way his shoulders curled in, like he was trying to shrink away from something, or someone.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?” she asked softly.

He sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. “It’s… it’s nothing, Doll. Just old memories. Bad dreams. Sometimes it’s hard to shake ‘em.”

Her heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. She knew he had scars—ones that ran far deeper than the metal arm or the haunted look in his eyes. Gently, she reached out, covering his hand with hers.

“You don’t have to deal with it alone, you know,” she murmured. “I’m here. I don’t care how dark it gets.”

He glanced at her, his gaze softening for a moment before he looked away again. “Sometimes I wonder why you stick around. I’m not exactly the easiest person to be with.”

“Maybe I like a challenge,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “Besides, you’re worth it, even if you don’t see it.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always know how to make a guy feel better, don’t ya?”

“Just part of the job, Serge,” she replied, grinning as he shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Serge, huh?” he mused, his tone lightening just a bit. “Guess I could get used to that.”

He took another sip of his drink before setting it down, the glass clinking softly against the counter. “C’mon,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Let’s get out of here. The night’s too quiet for sittin’ in a bar.”

She took his hand, the warmth of his fingers grounding her as they left the bar and stepped into the cool night air.

They wandered aimlessly through the city streets, the quiet between them comfortable, each step a slow unraveling of the tension that had been coiled inside him.

They walked until they reached a small park, its iron gates slightly ajar. Bucky led her to a worn fire escape overlooking the cityscape, and they sat down side by side, gazing out at the endless sprawl of lights stretching across the horizon.

After a long silence, he spoke. “Sometimes I feel… empty,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like there’s nothing left inside me. Just shadows and echoes of someone I used to be.”

She felt her heart clench, the pain in his words cutting through her like a knife. “You’re not empty, Bucky,” she said softly. “You’re just… healing. It’s not easy, but you’re not alone. You’ve got people who care about you, who want to help. You’ve got me.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “You mean that, don’t you?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the city lights. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” she admitted, squeezing his hand. “But I’m here for the long haul, Bucky. No matter how hard it gets. I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it.”

He turned to her, his face softening as he reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in a gesture so gentle it made her heart ache. “Darling,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”

She smiled, leaning into his touch. “Maybe, maybe not. But that’s not up to you to decide, is it?”

A laugh escaped him, low and soft, filled with a warmth that felt like a glimpse of the person he might become, someday. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they sat there, letting the quiet comfort of each other’s presence fill the empty spaces in their hearts.

As the first light of dawn broke over the city skyline, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You make all this…” he gestured vaguely to the city, the memories, the loneliness, “feel a little brighter. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Love is a funny thing,” she murmured, smiling up at him. “It has a way of filling even the darkest places with light.”

They stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms as the city came alive around them, its hum of life blending with the quiet promise between them.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but in that moment, with the sun rising over the horizon, they had each other—and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

——————————————————————————————————

[sassydefendorflower]

Okay. It's been a hot second since I watched FMA and I've been meaning to revisit. BUT. Something that always got to me, watching it, was Ed and Al's youth and their relationship to the military and power? Does that... that might be too vague. But is that something you can work with?

Ohhhhhh, that is SUCH a juicy topic and I probably can't even begin to touch up on all of it... but let's get started, shall we?

Sometimes that I always deeply loved (and found horribly frustrating) is how convincing Ed and Al are written as teenagers. Genius teenagers, maybe, but teenagers nonetheless. We see this wonderfully in the very first episode of the anime, when Isaac McDougal (what a delightful name) tells them that there's something wrong with the country, that the military is involved in that, and Ed literally tells him "I don't care. You have a philosopher's stone, right?".

Like.

WOW.

Plot of the whole show could be over right then and there if Ed had only stopped to listen. But, of course, that's not what a teenager would do, especially one so guiltridden he can only see his incredibly selfish goal right in front of him.

We are at the beginning of the story, after all, and there needs to be some room for character development.

But Ed and Al never quite lose that selfish, teenage viewpoint even as they grow (Ed comparing the bombing of Resembool with the genocide of Ishval to Major Miles' face, Ed throwing a hissy fit when they join forces with Scar even though Winry has made peace with it, Al sounding all of five years old when he repeats "Hughes moved to the countryside" like a child whose favorite animal just "ran away") but they do grow. Considerably.

They were always good kids. They always had an inane sense of fairness. But by the end of it, that sense of fairness has grown beyond them and their immediate surroundings. They can see farther than just themselves and Winry and the handful of people they call friends.

By the end of if their good deeds changed enough in the hearts of the Amestrian people to allow a certain degree of unity.

But how does that relate to power and the military?

Now, you see, Amestris is presented to us as a military state and we quite often get the sense that the military is the most common career path available to most of the country. At least if you want to eat. Somehow the Amestrian military has to feed all these endless wars after all, and that only happens if people join up voluntarily.

And it only happens if the benefits are good enough.

Which is exactly how Roy gets them. He dangles hope in front of their small, traumatized faces and makes it quite clear that the military is the only way to get what they want.

They need research materials, power, and the oversight of the state. They get all that by Ed joining up with the State Alchemists programme. As a civilian, all of that would be restricted and inaccessible to him.

But -- even in the beginning -- Ed never really identifies with his identity as a Dog of the Military beyond his title. He, in odds to all other State Alchemists, is known as Hero of the People, because while the rest of the Amestrian military exploits and the State Alchemists break with their promise of "be thou for the people" Ed and Al do give back. They do help. They do free towns from corrupt military officials, they do fight terrorists on trains, they do fix a street vendor's broken radio.

Ed is uncomfortable with the power he theoretically holds. When Maria Ross and Danny Brosh call him "sir" and use his official rank, Ed asks them to just call him Ed, saying that he's nothing special. We never once see him lever his status as "major" over any of the lower ranking officers. Later, we see him desert with no regards to his future career, and by the end we know he quit because the military was only ever a means to an end. And he reached that end. He reached his goal.

Ed never shows respect for authority figures (but he does salute Hughes once, so he must have had some formal training on how to behave), he doesn't claim the power he is theoretically owed beyond the independence it allows him, he has no invested interest in the politics of it all (even though he is aware of them), and he actively fights the corruption within the military when personally affected by it (even if he is way too selfish in the beginning to see the bigger question).

And both he and Al hate killing. They seem to accept it as a part of a soldier's job -- their problem isn't death, I don't think, considering how unbothered they are by dead bodies throughout the show - but the act itself is so abhorrent to them, that they try to stop even tangentially related murder plots simply because they want no part in it. It is naive -- the show tells us so. Many of its characters tell us so.

But.

But it is also a reclamation of Ed's agency. And it is hope for the future. Because Ed knows that he has become a Dog of the Military, he knows -- on some level -- that he's just sold his soul to a monster far bigger than him, but he will keep this one part of his innocence for himself. He will not kill in the name of the Amestrian government.

And you know what? Riza Hawkeye is impressed with him for that. Because she pulled the trigger when ordered to, and Ed is her hope for the future. Because he is the next generation. And he refuses to do what she once did.

(I think it is interesting to investigate under which circumstances Ed would kill and how that would influence his character and what would be the consequences of that, but for the sake of the show itself, I think it is a wonderful visualization of the world healing beyond what Riza and Roy and Armstrong and Marcoh and Kimblee did to it)

Now, how does that all tie together?

Well, I think it is Ed's youth that allows him to disregard much of the military's power over his life, and it is his stubborn teenage-ness that allows both him and Al to hold so steadfast to their ideals, be that the selfish goal of self-realization or the refusal to kill. Not once does either character strive for power, and even at the end of the series, once they're all grown up, we see them long for a simple life. For interesting travels, good food, family, and a future worth living.

The military is a tool, for Ed and Al - because the military state ensured that they would have to use it.

It is interesting, really, because Roy joined up because he believed the propaganda, and once he recruits the Elrics he's been firmly broken by that belief -- and the Elrics join up even though they distrust the military (the Rockbells seem firmly anti-military all things considered) simply because it offers the resources they need.

If Ed was any other protagonist this would be a very different story, because they handed a twelve-year old a whole lot of power and a pretty high-up rank and the worst he did was blow up a few buildings and buy ugly clothes.

This is probably not at all what you expected, but... well, you successfully activated my rambling button! AND MANY THANKS FOR THAT!!! <3 <3 <3

[maryse127]

Hot take but Final Fantasy VIII > Final Fantasy VII

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[horsefigureoftheday]

are you okay? horse figures are important, but so are you!

Horse is how I cope but thanks<33

[corvid-language-library]

.

[outsideyourhousewithaknife]

You HAVE to love the moment after your phone dies and you are left hunched over the screen, your eyes deprived of the blue light to which they have grown accustomed, your mind deprived of the distraction from the horrors of your reality, to behold your own image (reverse Narcissus) in all its double-chinned, acne-scarred, chocolate-stained and cheeto-dusted glory, and horrified by who you have become, and you are full of guilt and (remorse) exhaustion, and you are (entirely, devastatingly) alone, and you blink, and you get up, and you (cry) (look in the mirror?) go plug in your phone and get some more cheetos

No, really, you have to love it. It's the law.

[willowparkfanclub]

okay look. not to gatekeep but i think if you're a newer starkid and you can't tell me 1) who julia albain is 2) what little white lie is and 3) all the names in liam's got a phone call, i don't wanna hear your complaints about what starkid chooses to produce next

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[reliccipher]

just ended up sending in feedback about the layout to support. But I have to say it here too, this new layout is such a pain in the ass to figure out. I hated twitter's layout for the same reason, its so annoying to use and everything feels so cluttered and squished in and distracting... it's actually headache inducing.

I really wish I had the option to switch back. I wish there was an option to CHOOSE between the two layouts. I wish I had the choice to opt out of "testing" this thing.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it" really should have been brought up before they even tried making this. It was fine before, and now the new layout is completely different and frustrating when it didn't need to be.

If I wanted Twitter's layout, I would have just fucking gone to Twitter.

[batz]

i really think that some doctors need to be mauled by wild animals what do you MEAN didnt believe theres glands under your tongue!!! how many millions of years ago did he go to medical school!!! im so mad for you right now

i think some doctors just get like disillusioned or whatever but its NO excuse for them to not know that there are salivary glands under the tongue or other very normal things to know. and then be v rude and dismissive about very normal concerns. but maybe the doctor did know what was going on and just wanted me out of the clinic asap.

but also ive had to point out like rlly normal anatomical things to doctors lately im wondering if walk in clinics are just hiring randos off indeed at this point LMAO

[castrotophic]

I trust you

I LOVE YOU 😭

[icharchivist]

hey remember when i left those tags on that post?

i still don’t want to talk about what the work of fiction is but i legit just got reminded today that while it’s been like over 15 years that i did want to check this thing, the character that “caught my interest like 7 years ago” actually caught my interest 12 years ago. As in, there was a specific moment in time when i wanted to get into it because i learnt about the character in question.

i’ve been in hysterics for the past ten minutes because i’m realizing it’s been over a decade that once in a while i had humored starting this thing, and that while it definitely started out of another place, it’s been 12 years that steadily it was because this character was standing out to me enough that i wanted to get into it, but then forgot all about it, and now i’m out there actually getting into it after a *dream that came out of nowhere about this chara popping up while i haven’t thought of them in years* and i’m just. 

bestfriendo is making fun of me because “this is the most slowburn in all of history of fav characters” and i’m screaming into my hands, imagine considering getting into something for OVER A DECADE while constantly one character keeps standing out for you and eventually you just get a dream out of nowhere of this chara like a sudden “hey. I’ve been sending you messages about it for the past decade why the fuck are you leaving me on read” and now you’re not only forced to pay attention but also forced to realize YOU COULD HAVE STARTED ALL OF THAT OVER TEN YEARS AGO i’m feeling so unwell.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

When I was making my first trying-to-be-serious ocs it was in the start of the 2010s (and I mean the START, 2010-2012) and there was a big “anti Mary-sue” movement on deviantart (the website I spent half my internet time on and was posting my art on) and I liked to make my character designs pretty extra (although compared to modern stuff they look pretty normal) so I started to get self-conscious. At the time though I was watching soul eater (and there was another thing I’m forgetting and it’s really frustrating me) and I saw that it was popular with a cool art style and the characters were extra AF, so I was like “okay. Maybe, as long as I can draw my character often and consistently it doesn’t matter if they are wild!” and you know what? Early teen me was RIGHT. Not about many things, but about this in particular she was!