#you can block me whenever

[banditblvd]

I finished my current sketchbook last night and wanted to post some of my favorite doodles in there :-)

there's so so many more in there that I didn't take photos if so I'm probably gonna post a bunch in phases

so I guess sketchbook reveal 1/?

[leapdayowo]

I am learning that writing my own story is akin to unraveling a ball of yarn. I find one end, unravel it and it’s satisfying and fun, then BOOM massive clump of knots! But no worries! I’ll just- if I can get this loop over this bit- oh for the love of- how did that happen??? And then most of the knots are out of that section (ignoring the ones I just tighten so much I cannot get them out). And then more unraveling fun! Yippee! until the mother of all tangles and knots appears from the center somehow like a writhing king rat and there’s yarn everywhere :’) some piles are meticulously folded or laid out nice and neat on the floor while other parts are a Mess. And I’m sitting there, looking at this creation/project at 2am realizing, I can’t put it back. Maybe I could have at the first hiccup, but Oh No. I have to finish this now because look at how much progress I’ve made! And made if I. Just. Keep. Chipping. Away. At. It-

nope.

I’m sleepy

so I carefully scoop everything up and place it in a basket until six months later when I have more important things to do that I really don’t want to do, I find that basket and dump its contents back out and start retracing my steps and progress I made on the yarn. I ‘tsk’ at the tight knots beyond help and resolve to take it slower. There is no rush with this particular ball of yarn to unravel it and get it ready to be used. So this end goes over here, then over here, put this piece in my mouth to create tension over here, pull this through then under- AHA!

and so it goes :)

[fbfh]

do you still write for jj?

ooooh not only do I write for JJ but I kiss you on both cheeks for giving me an excuse to talk about one of my favorite obscure JJ thoughts. JJ x ballerina!reader (gn so technically ballet dancer reader, but you do dance pointe and in a more feminine style in pas de deux so do with that what you will)

They thought you were a kook for the first few summers since you clearly went to school off the island. It turns out you're not, you're just a scholarship kid to whatever fancy school you go to (something that Pope LOVES to pick your brain about since he's dying for a scholarship to his dream college)

at some point or another, there's a hurricane. you end up sticking it out with the other pogues. that's when they notice how... weirdly flexible you are. especially JJ. mostly JJ. it started off small, with you stretching a little while you guys are hanging out in the aftermath since the day after a hurricane is always a free day. JJ looked away from you for like two seconds and you just fuckin... dropped into a perfect split. he's surprised by this obviously, but he's more surprised when you seamlessly shift to a split on the other side, then a center split, bending and moving with impossibly flexibility. then a moment later, you're asking him "hey can you grab my leg?" as you stand up and stretch into a scorpion/needle pose. soon you're dragging him out of the room to "help you with something else." he FULLY thinks yall are about to hook up, but instead you put on this beautiful, artsy, erratic piano music, kick off your sandals or sneakers or whatever, and begin moving like a fucking vision.

you're rambling to him while you dance like it's nothing, but his jaw is on the fucking floor.

"This is the solo I learned last semester," you chuckle while spinning like a little figurine atop a music box, or something in a snow globe, or... wherever else he's seen ballerinas in passing before.

"If I'm rusty by the time I get back, Miss Raine will kill me." you chuckle playfully.

after a few moments, you finish, posed delicately on the ground. you look up at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glistening with mirth.

"holy fucking shit," he exclaims, making you blush. "goddamn, princess, that-"

he trails off with a disbelieving chuckle.

"That was fuckin' incredible," he says with a breathy laugh, then nudges you playfully, looking at you more closely like he must have missed something all those times he looked at you and never saw this magical ballet fairy hiding inside you. "you've been holdin' out on me." he teases.

"okay, okay, here's where I need your help." you begin, trying not to get too distracted. you reach out and grab his wrist, holding out his left arm palm up. "I'm gonna run at you like this-"

you demonstrate, taking a step forward. his attention is locked onto you even harder from the moment you grab his arm.

"And kinda... kick my leg around," you do just that, so you're twisted around and facing away from him. he lets out a little noise of surprise. you know it must seem convoluted and ridiculous, but you really need help practicing this lift.

"I need you to wrap your arm around me like this," you say, bending forward with one leg extended behind you, the other supporting you, so your stomach rests on his bicep and his hand holds the small of your back. "And then place your other hand right on my ribcage here."

"oh, my hand will be wherever you want it, cupcake." he says, making you roll your eyes at the (only half joking) innuendo.

"okay." you say, taking a step back. "you ready?"

the first few times you walk through it together are clumsy and slow, a mess of limbs and giggles, but eventually you get it. you call your friends in to show them the bluebird lift you've been working on, even having successfully taught JJ how to lower you and do a few basic steps with you to conclude. you both get through it unscathed, and your friends reactions are very similar to JJ (with only slightly less innuendo and teasing from John B and Pope), and as JJ giggles and demands you come at him so he can lift you again, you start to see a lot of potential in him.

maybe, just maybe, you can shape that potential a little more over the summer. your ballet academy always has scholarships for boys available since they're always in demand in the performing arts. you think there might just be a chance for JJ to do a lot more lifts with you.

[bucephaly]

People love finding random natives online and dumping their family story on them expecting a reassuring 'of course you're native!!' Lol

Sorry, if you don't wanna reconnect why would you even mention your supposed apache or whatever ancestry. If you aren't connecting to the tribe what does it even matter. 'I find it interesting' so you're using supposed native ancestry as a fun fact to make you look more interesting? How is that different than any other 'great grandma cherokee princess' person. Especially since you apparently have time to research the history of all your ancestral cultures but you don't have time to do genealogy

And of course when I tell them 'assume the stories are fake until you've got actual proof' they block me.

[sharp-fawngz]

Gift Boy :)

Ko-fi | Redbubble | Commission

[sainteclectic]

Whywould you draw whole and Soul being together that's unpleasant

why are you asking this to the soulwhole guy. do you get mad when you go to the ice cream parlor and they sell ice cream

[vacantgodling]

✨preferences should not be standards for writing advice✨

[yingren]

gm yesterday i changed up my carrd again (surprise surprise) and clarified some things in my rules. while i absolutely adore other portrayals of the same character i write, i have never and am not going to start following blogs that are solo blade muses or multis heavily centered around a blade muse. i really want to avoid accidental similarities.

[thecreelhouse]

do I need to put flashing lights around this for some of y’all or

[honeyconez]

guys hear me out would painis cupcake pay taxes? Because he’s not like mega insane like ass pancakes I think he’d pay his taxes in my professional opinion.

[alchemiclee]

I really hate when people say this. if I dont record, I cant "enjoy it in the moment" because I dissociate out of my damn mind and then have no memory of it! recording helps ground me and keep me focused in the moment! let me do what I need to in order to enjoy things you soggy potato 😭

plus, as a photographer/aspiring videographer who hasn't had the luck to become friends with bands and work with them, IM DOING A THING I ENJOY AS WELL, SO SHUT UP LMAO. I enjoy doing video and photos MORE than standing in a crowded, overwhelming room watching people do stuff on a stage. THATS LIYERALLY ME LIVING IN THE MOMENT DOING A THING I ENJOY!!!!! WHY IS THAT WRONG?!

[waytooinvested]

Me: I've decided to be the kind of person who doesn't over think my fandom participation and just comments on/replies to/generally engages with content and creators. I LOVE it when people do that with my stuff! There are hundreds of posts out there about how much everyone else also loves it when people do that on their stuff! I'll be spreading the joy!

Also me: ohnowhatifI'mbeingreallyannoyingisitweirdthatIjustdidthatmaybethatpersonthinksI'mcreepynowarghistworepliestoomuchit'stoomuchisn'titIshouldprobablybackoffnow

... What the hell brain? 🙄

[epickiya722]

Till this day I am baffled to have came across an Anti Miruko post.

[fairyaltar]

i think it’s time for an i.wtv rewatch

[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.

[bi-chimneyy]

this fandom is acc driving me round the bend, guys, someone "jumping ship" or multi shipping is not a personal betrayal, do not take it as one