🪼
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
EXPECTATIONS
Monterey Bay Aquarium
if i look back, i am lost
cherry valley forever
taylor price
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One Nice Bug Per Day
★
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Fai_Ryy
𓃗
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
noise dept.
sheepfilms
seen from United States
seen from Suriname
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
seen from Indonesia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
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seen from Myanmar (Burma)
seen from United States
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seen from Vietnam
@bxnjoplxyer
Do you like beans? Beanish people? Beanish people with a huge ego? How about just a beanish thief? If any of these catch your attention, how about I introduce you to Popple The world’s greatest, professional, shadow thief?
(( This blog is for Popple, a beanish shadow thief from the wonderful RPG game Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga ! )) (( Keep in mind this is a canon divergent version of him! ))
(( Wanna interact? Just reblog/like and I’ll check you out!! ))
@devilish-cartoon liked for a starter!
Step. Tap. Step. Tap. Went the man's shoes, hitting against the dirty wooden floor as small stacks of paper jostled in his grip.
Ohh, of course, had to be today's deadline. No, not next week like agreed- it just HAD to be today. Not like he was considering writing a few music sheets of his own, in the spare time that Joey should have given him- instead of STRESSING OVER TH.
Calm yourself, Lawrence.
C-
A wall.
He ran into a wall.
Stumbling back, left hand grasping for his newly bruised forehead, a low groan had risen from the director's chest. And, laying dased eyes upon the paperwork scattered across the.. th..
-"Oh- F- Goddamnit.”
i said, can i get an amen?
@arm-thief liked for a short starter!
-Hand gripping the axe’s worn handle, the prophet would simply opt to keep quiet, as blank, pie-cut eyes practically bore into the other’s presence.
Then, offering a silent tilt of his head, Sammy would look the.. thing’s mechanical hand over once again with slight interest.
Seems as if the filthy dog’s speech had fallen upon un-considering ears.
-”And, might I ask, this concerns me how?”
(( *Slaps knee* ))
(( Gonna get back on my rp feet, so here's a quick starter call ! ))
-| Like/Reblog/Reply if you'd be interested in interaction with Sammy boy here ! |-
[ Open to :
*- Mutuals/non-mutuals/Blogs centered around roleplay/Non-Batim rp blogs
[ Not open to :
*- Personal blogs ( Blogs not centered around roleplay )
(( Length may vary depending on my writing inspiration, but I'll try my best ! c: ))
(( #mobile ))
Hey my personal blog followed you because of the stupid tumblr setting of side blogs can't follow so I was wondering if that's okay ? I would like to interact with your Sammy ^^") -poisepxrfect
(( Yeah! That’s fine w/ me! ))
(( Tbh, I honestly don’t mind what blogs follow me, whether it’d be a personal or just a rp blog! c: ))
th3cr3atorli3d:
“Hhhhhhhh…” The consonant dragged out in one, long, hissing breath, the demon’s attempts to repeat that one word falling just short of successful. Bendy’s hands moved up to hover at his torso once more, fists loose, looking more like a scared animal than the godlike deity the ink demon actually was. He was still scared, of course.
But now Sammy knew what he needed. The only issue was how. And how was he supposed to tell the prophet with ink clogging his vocal chords?
Writing. The wall.
He shifted, drawing his head back from the other’s touch, hands reaching up to feel for the bare wall at his side. A few chicken-scratch words were written in what vaguely resembled the dancing demon’s usual calligraphy, full sentences nonexistent in the scrawls, but still, they were coherent enough to form at least some meaning.
‘Ink.’
‘Eyes’
‘See’
‘Adrenaline’
‘Calm. Please.’
Soft gurgles and hums rumbled in the creature’s throat, his hand pressing the thinned ink against the wall to form every letter before both limbs dropped back to dangle at his sides. The perma-grin had lost all sincerity, corners twitching to give the illusion of a frown.
Head shifting to the prophet’s direction once more, Bendy’s ears twitched in wait.
Writing.
Communication.
Vision trailing the ink lined upon the faded wall, not a single sound had been uttered by the prophet. Piecing together sentences within’ whatever was left inside his ink-stained skull.
Can’t see. Neither can I.
Calm. Calm. Calm.
..
Silence.
-”I see..” With a tone, barely above a whisper, there was a moment’s pause before he’d shift once more. Lifting a single arm towards the demonic entity.
Perhaps, music would help.
A slow tune. Something that would lull one to sleep.
Just needed the little darling devil himself..
who needs swag when you have class
…ical music
I THINK I LOST A FOLLOWER FOR THIS
THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE AGAINST CLASSICAL MUSIC I’LL RAM MY TROMBONE SO FAR UP YOUR HOOHAH WHEN SOMEONE EATS YOU OUT THEY’LL BE ABLE TO PLAY THE SOLO FROM SIBELIUS’S SYMPHONY IN C
th3cr3atorli3d:
Contact.
That one, tiny source of acknowledgement, the fact that Sammy was showing he was paying attention. It made the demon feel better in an instant.
Bendy’s head softly butted into the prophet’s hand, the thinned ink obscuring his vision sticking to the thicker substance Sammy was made from, body edging forward and fingers just barely brushing the ground as his arms hung loose at his sides. A weak, watery purr, half drowned by the ink in his throat, was his only verbal response.
God how he hated this form. When his own ink would overcompensate for the demon’s usually defenseless and pudgy body to stretch him into a bony monstrosity when he needed to protect himself. Sure it was useful in the short-term, but hobbling around as a blind, mute, frail beast wasn’t exactly the safest past-time in a place like this. Especially if he needed to run.
So finding Sammy after a fight was usually his go to plan. Funny, the ink demon had assumed Sammy was mad at him. The way he was just ignoring, plucking his banjo without a care in the world. He hadn’t put two and two together to realize the music director hadn’t even known it was him, but Bendy didn’t seem to be mad at him. Simply relieved that whatever funk the other was in had worn off in time. Maybe he could ask about it later.
But right now, there was something else he needed.
Raising his own hand to meet the watery, dripping ink that ran down his horns to his fixed grin, the toon feebly pushed it up into the black border of his face, only for it to flow back down the second it had been moved, covering the demon’s features once more. Bendy’s horned ears stood upright, twitching in wait, in anticipation and hope, for Sammy to realize what he was getting at.
Silence.
Not a word spoken as he’d observe the other’s movements, shrouded in the shadow of his own mask.
The mask. Oh.. How it was such a false mockery of emotion.
One that certainly didn’t reflect the prophet's own.
Not in the slightest.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
-”..”
Then, it clicked.
His lord.. needed help.
..That’s why he’d been chosen.
But.. What was he to do in such a situation? There’s only been a small handful of encounters with the demon’s frightening skeletal form, and yet, they’ve all been mear glimpses. Barely out of his line of sight, before he’d turn and see the devil darling himself.
Nothing close to.. this.
-”..My lord.”
-”How must I help?..”
hey. rb this if you’re a canon blog and you think ocs are valid as hell, because its the Truth
honesty hour!
ask my muse anything, nothing is off limits and they have to answer with complete honesty.
hinkwerks:
@bxnjoplxyer
Henry laughed over his cup of coffee watching the director enter the break room covered in ink. “Did ya go swimn’ there Sam?” He sipped his coffee setting the mug down. “Let me go get the towels and the rubbing alcohol.” He opened up several cabinets trying to quell his laughter. Henry knew he had to work in a gag about Bendy or one of the crew being covered in ink.
A glare.
-”No, I didn’t.” A blunt reply, followed by a groan of, what, irritation? annoyance? He felt annoyed, that’s for sure.
Offering a glance to one of the many nearby wooden chairs, there’s a moment’s pause before he’d reach out, grip said chair by the top and simply pull right on out. Sitting down with a slight bend.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The floor was practically ruined by this point. Ugh. Maybe he'll ask Franks to clean this mess up later.
-”For your information, Henry.”
-“Bendy was the one who did this to me in the first place.”
-”Some stupid ‘bucket-o-ink ova th’ door’ prank of his..”
-”..Had to go and ruin my nice pants too.” He’d mumble. Crossing both arms with a huff.
Some work day this turned out to be.
(( STARTER CALLLL!! ))
(( Feel free to: Like/Reblog/Reply if you’d be interested in interaction with good ol Sammy boy here!! ))
Open to
Mutuals/Non-mutuals
Not open to
Personal blogs/Blogs not centered around roleplay.
(( Length may vary between these, so try not to expect something super long here haha ))
-”..” Something. He’s considering something. Thoughts stir within’ his ink-stained skull, yet, not a sound.
Thoughts were interesting. Interesting indeed. One could quite possibly be the bridge between a fatal situation, and escaping a cold slumber.
There was also the chance that one might not be quick enough to react.
Slow reflexes, for example.
Was he himself, slow? No. He could run, of course. Run from whatever came his way. Whether it’d be searcher, striker, or simply the lord himself, he could run. Outrunning? There was the issue. He’d slow down eventually. Succumbing to exhaustion by such a waste of energy.
Floorboards creaked. Ripping the man from his thoughts, thrusting conscious back to the “real world”.
Silence.
beep beep how’s my portrayal ?
