#lmao idk what this is but i've been thinking about it all day

[piplupod]

so there's a trans woman who goes to the centre and everyone calls her by her birthname which she is like... fine with but only because she has no choice but to be fine about it. anyways I've known her for a while through a trans group before the centre so I asked her today if she'd rather I call her by her birthname or her chosen name and she said she prefers her chosen name but I can call her by her birthname if I want and oh my god I was about to cry for her bc god I really feel that whole situation fjdkdl, I just told her "no I WANT to call you by the name you prefer, that's why I'm asking, I want to make sure it's safe for you if I call you [preferred name]" and she seemed so grateful and I'm just :') eeurrgghh i hate how we have to be grateful with crumbs !!!

its just absolutely wild to me that she's presenting femininely and wears skirts and dresses and everything and uses her preferred name when she writes her name down on stuff and yet everyone at the centre calls her by her birthname and he/him pronouns. like. how are people so fucking rude and oblivious ??? she's even worn a she/her pronoun pin to the centre like.... people are so fucking stupid about trans people I stg.

idk I'm just hoping to make her feel a bit more comfortable and maybe if I start calling her by the right name and pronouns then everyone else will too eventually because I know she doesnt feel safe correcting people. I'm not going to make a big thing of it obviously bc I don't want to put her in danger but I will be using the correct name and pronouns now that I've double-checked with her about it, and if I start feeling like it's making things worse for her then I'll check in with her again at that point. I've honestly been stumbling trying to use he/him for her when I mention her to other ppl because she is just... she/her in my brain. it's what I know she wants to use so it feel fucking awful to use anything else !!!

[captainschaos]

I missed yesterday, so catching up with @mcyt-aro-week !!! day 1 - unconventional relationships / trope subversion

cledubs qpr you will be famous forever <3<3<3 but admittedly it's a bit of a stretch and not really apparent what the connection to the prompt is, is so I'm gonna explain under the cut ! tldr ancient greek vase painting visual culture, nerd stuff <3 I was in class LOL

so I'm currently studying ancient greek mythology in one of my classes, primarily through the lens of visual culture, which mainly focuses on vase art! learning the conventions of the symbolism and the culture is really interesting (and I might someday do something with showing how mcyt really has created an extremely similar culture, but I digress) and ngl I didn't even mean to do this when I was drawing during lecture LOL. but a lot of the stylistic traits of greek painting crept into this piece, you can kinda see the influence in bdubs' pose, as well as cleo's to a certain extent, and the main connection here is in the fact that cleo's facing forward! this was extremely rare in greek visual culture, and very significant when it did happen. in many instances it's connected to the crossing of boundaries or breaking rules, which was where I felt it could connect to the prompt! but even more specifically for cleo, and why I really leaned into it, is that forward-facing figures are often doing so because they aren't alive <3 it almost paints them as more object than person, but could also certainly be about undeath ! so that's the part that cleo really fits into, refusing to be controlled by anyone, defiant in undeath. and also aromantic, which I DEFINITELY have thoughts about connecting to those two ideas but they're evident enough and this is long already LOLL

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[vampyroteuthid]

ok well today was a lot better at work until right before i clocked out when i got a weirdly underhanded remark about having an animal science degree for some reason

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Actually obsessed with my new coworker at the farm ajdkalsl

[littol-bun]

i love being an age regressor ૮ᴖﻌᴖა ♡⁠ tonight it feels very affirming and comforting. I've kind of always had to look out for myself and be my biggest supporter, and there are a lot of strange ways this feels like a second chilhood at times.

like i regress to being younger, but I'm also a girl now in a completely different place with completely different circumstances/social circles etc. yk?

but when i feel rly small and my reality feels so big, it makes me happy that older me is there for me to make the important decisions and guide us there :3 it's like i am holding my hand through this, i haven't had an adult rly look out for me like this and it's so nice to have one now!!

i don't have to be scared of big changes, I'm doing good and I'm here for me and i can take it easy. i have someone who is helping me ♡⁠ i have someone who is keeping me safe. they work hard so i can be little ^.^ thanks big sis hehe ✌🏾

ouggghh im not little anymore but (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) ♡⁠ yeah. when i am little i can still like.. function as an adult n talk to ppl n stuff. but it's also like, well like i said before ig 0:

like im smaller but different‚ subtly. still me‚ but someone else since I'm like.. a teen?? that i never was. my childhood was nothing like my adulthood so this rly is a whole new thing little me has needed to learn 2 navigate emotionally/mentally.

but as i become more aware of when I'm in a little headspace and not, the difference in perception stands out to me a lot more. i can't articulate it very well... oughh. this is giving me very specific questions, but on that note — i am happy to feel so safe and looked out for when I'm little 😌💕 i used to feel scared and helpless but it's different now. we're doing this together 👩🏽‍🤝‍👩🏾 i got ya lil sis

[everymlmhybrid]

this part genuinely makes me feel like eating dry wall like i can't explain how i feel about it without making some of you finally tire of me and block me about it i think

[eepybubble]

i think when i'm at home i don't really mask bc my family is equally as weird as me so i can basically do whatever shit i want

[currentlyonstandbi]

[batfamfucker]

Tell the truth comic fans challenge. When's the last time you read a comic and how many have you actually read?

P.S. This isn't me being gatekeepy btw I'm being genuine because I'm gonna be honest I've probably only actually read about five series and every thing else I've gotten from movies/series, online, or fanon. I know all the important events. Have I actually read them? No because my ADHD just wouldn't. And I can't be assed having to read important events if it's in a shit run by a bad writer.

[niallandtommo]

.

[monster-noises]

Looking at my upcoming schedules and crying because i'll be making enough money to survive and maybe have a little extra usually

Looking at my upcoming Schedules and crying because i'm working 40 hours a week and I can see my comic-making dreams get slowly crushed lile in one of them hydraulic press videos 🥲

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[the-yearning-astronaut]

Nothing more scary as an adult than having to call out of work for the 2nd or 3rd time this week because your dysautonomia is fuckin with you, making it difficult to think clearly or do anything more taxing than sitting on the couch.

[queenerdloser]

so i'm taking a uni class this semester in part to see if i even still like higher education enough to actively try for grad school and in part (if the answer is yes) to have a potential letter of rec prof. it's a history class about memoirs and one of the assignments is writing your own memoir.

and like the prof was like "well everyone has a story to tell so even if you think your life is boring there's usually something there" and i fundamentally agree with that - everyone has a story to tell and even the most mundane life has the potential to be a really interesting memoir. my problem is less that my life is relatively boring (it is) and more that between depression, adhd, and brain fog memory issues most of my childhood and teen years are utterly incomprehensible to me. what was i doing at 15? fuck if i know man!!!! the level of memory detail needed to decide what the hell i'm going to write about for this project is just not something i have.

[kuiinncedes]

;-;