the secret box (qsmp side blog) • he/him • fluent in english, conversational spanish (feel free to help me practice!) • art tag is #silverware draw-er, post tag is #silverware lore • i talk about the transformative power of storytelling a lot • my favorite qsmp character is all of them. that said: Jorginho the IV stand
Well this was supposed to be an art blog but I'm. . .very inconsistent. . .about drawing. And also I've gotten more that 1 note on my posts which means I'm cooler and more popular than ever before 😎
Anyway here's a pinned post I guess (english under the cut)
Creé esto para ser un blog de arte pero soy. . .muy irregular. . . con dibujando. Y también recibí más de una nota en mis posts entonces soy más chévere y popular que todavía ya he sido 😎
Pues nada supongo que aquí está un post fijada (versión español bajo del readmore)
English Version
What can you call me: I don't really care, any derivatives of my username work I guess? Or just "hey you"
What do I do: uhhhh things
What languages do I speak: fluent in English and working on getting there in Spanish. I love learning curse words in different languages!!
What the hell do my tags mean:
- #silverware draw-er is for art I have made (rare and uncommon)
- #silverware lore is for posts that I have made
- #silverware tags is for when. I say things in the tags
- #silverware decor is art other people have made
- silverware humór is for edits/memes other people have made
- #posts that aged is for posts that aged.
- #cuesumblur is for those fake qsmp Tumblr posts because they really tickle my funny bone
Versión Español
Cómo puedes llamarme: uhhh no importa mucho, cada apodo como mi username funciona. O también "oye pendejo"
Qué hago: uhhhh cosas
Cuáles idiomas puedo hablar: tengo fluidez en inglés y estoy trabajando por lo mismo en español. Me encanta aprender groserías de idiomas diferentes!!!!
Qué a la verga significan mis pinches tags:
- #silverware draw-er es pa arte que he creado (raro y poco común)
- #silverware lore es pa posts que he hecho
- #silverware tags es pa cuando. digo pendejadas en los tags.
- #silverware decor es pa arte de otros
- #silverware humór es pa edits/memes de otros
- #posts that have aged es pa posts que han envejecido
- #cuesumblur es pa estos posts falsos por personajes qsmp porque me alegran por algunas razones
You're invited to a QSMP Miraheze Wiki Watch Party!
On August 18, 2024, at 6 PM UTC+0:00 we will be watching Día de los Muertos Event! Don't forget to join us in our Discord. We are very excited to see you there 😉
Hilarious that in QSMP Fit and Philza are In-laws because Missa and Spreen are canonically brothers. Like when Chayanne and Lullah say Tio Fit that is their actual uncle by marriage. Uncle Phil is is really Ramon's uncle Phil.
see the best unintended effect of the translator mod is that it made every moment on the server immediately reaction memeable because every word that was said was transcribed in real time above their heads. it's like how buzzfeed unsolved's blue and yellow text was so immediately memeable, bc the quips were already written out so all fans needed was a well timed screenshot. now we have screenshots like this, delivered right to our front door:
but the fact that they're translations ALSO gives the added fun of MIStranslations, so you get things like roier saying "young guy" in english with the translations set to spanish and producing "john gay".
like every oneliner ever delivered in a conversation is almost INSTANTLY memeable as long as someone is looking and that's honestly fucking hilarious
I will forever stand by the fact that one of the funniest things to ever happen on the qsmp server was, after weeks upon weeks of build up for Etoiles' fight in the Colosseum, when he finally gets there he makes a whole scene of getting his playlist ready, 100% convinced the admins were about to drop a nuclear bomb on him and dance on his corpse, and he just starts absolutely blaring centuries by fall out boy, just top volume, which he then STOPS the second he enters and sees 'Pomme' imprisoned in the Colosseum, just full on record scratch, bro took his earbuds out, and then he just never put the music back on mans was actually FED UP
I do find it a little funny that people make mike a creeper hybrid cause he wears a green creeper face T-shirt. That's like a human walking around wearing a big fleshy-coloured shirt with a human face on it
Qsmp ended but let's keep exchanging culture and language
I think it would be nice if we kept doing it even if we don't have the ccs anymore to be the voices of those exchanges. We could share expressions, untranslatable words or just little words we think are nice. You can also share some culture detail or facts about your country or language.
So, I will start with some of my favorites things in brazilian portuguese.
Untranslatable word
Cafuné - The act of brushing someone's hair tenderly with your fingers.
Anteontem - This one is not very exciting but I found funny that english doesn't have anything similar. It means the day before yesterday.
Expression
While we have a verb that translated to "give birth" (parir), we use "dar à luz" a lot too, the literal translation of this expression is "to give light".
"Amigo da onça" translated to "friend of the jaguar", we use to call someone that fakes to be a friend just to betrayed the person or use them.
Word I just like
Humming birds in portuguese are called beija-flor(flower kisser)
Fun Fact
Although tapioca and cassava are pretty popular in Asia, they are originally brazilian.
One of the most popular foods in a brazilian barbecue is chicken hearts, usually served in a skewer
every time mama's boy comes up on my playlist i think about qforever. i miss that cubito a lot actually. fuck forever but qforever u will always be my little guy. just like cwilbur im adopting u as my oc. i don't give a fuck. putting him in my pocket and running away
Roier and Cellbit moved into their new house six weeks ago after the tragic death of Roier's son. Roier's partner (what was her name again?) slowly stopped talking to him after that, and they didn't need such a big house anymore so. They move.
It's a nice house, all things considered. One floor, big windows that let in light all day, a porch, nice backyard. No extra bedrooms.
Cellbit has claimed a corner of the living room as his office. He put up a corkboard on one wall and is steadily covering it with newspaper clippings and red string. His desk is cluttered with books and notes and coffee stains, and every time Roier passes by, his footsteps stir up dust that he was so sure he'd cleaned.
The sun sets early now. It gets dark so fast that Roier has to flick on the lights or else Cellbit will ruin his eyes trying to read his handwriting by the dim light of the television they never turn off.
Roier watches it sometimes. He doesn't know where they left the remote and he can't really be bothered to get up and change the channel. They're always playing some menial drama, or cycling through commercials for products he'll never need. He can never quite remember what the story is about.
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit sleep in the same bed every night. Technically.
Roier is tucked in at 10pm sharp every night. Cellbit doesn't drag himself into their bedroom until at least four in the morning and he barely remembers to slip out of his clothes before he's crashing into the sheets.
Roier wakes up at 7am on the dot and wanders into the kitchen to make breakfast. He gets dressed. He cleans the house. He doesn't think about the face he's forgetting, a child he loved and clutched tightly to his chest as he bled out all over his lap. He doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't-- Roier clicks on the coffee machine at 1pm and waits for Cellbit to groan awake and stumble into his seat at the table.
They kiss, usually. When Roier is cooking dinner, Cellbit will press up against his back and dig his face into Roier's hair and they're happy. Cellbit will plop a wet kiss on Roier's cheek when he thinks he's being quiet while getting into bed. Roier cherishes each and every one, they melt into his skin like the snowflakes they used to crumple into snowballs to throw at each other. Before, back when--
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit love their new house. It's perfect in every way possible. It has furniture, it has a bathroom with two sinks so they can brush their teeth together in the mornings. It has big windows that let in the light all day, a porch, nice backyard. There is only one bedroom.
They don't have many neighbours, not that they'd know. They stick to themselves mostly, Cellbit in his makeshift office and Roier wandering the house, dragging his knuckles along the bare walls. He thinks he remembers paint, covering marker stains and scratching out height marks and hand prints in three different sizes. But the walls are always blank.
Cellbit forgets to use a coaster, and he keeps knocking over empty coffee mugs all over his papers. Roier hasn't tried reading them in weeks. He wonders if they make as much sense as the books on the singular shelf in their bedroom.
Roier takes care of the house while Cellbit works. It's an equal exchange, especially considering that when Roier cooks Cellbit has to do the dishes, keep them as sparkling clean as everything else in the house. The laundry machine is tucked away in the far corner of the kitchen, with no dryer in sight. He piles it with clothes he didn't bother to sort from the hamper, shoving in towels and socks and shirts all in one load. They always come out fine anyways, the colour bleached out by the rigorous washing cycle.
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit got married three years ago in a small venue with close friends and family present. It was a sweet ceremony, they kissed tenderly at the end, Cellbit ugly cried when they exchanged rings, and Roier got frosting smeared all over his white suit.
Two months later they moved into their old place, decorated a child's bedroom, took care not to step on any toys, and lived their happily ever after.
Until they couldn't anymore. But everything is fine, they have a new house now, and it's wonderful. It didn't cost much to buy it, the location is nice, everything is clean and crisp and ready for a brand new start.
Cellbit runs out of red string one evening, but Roier offers him white thread he was using to mend one of his jackets and everything is fine.
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit are in love. They do everything for the other, they're family, they're best friends, they're lovers.
They only have each other.
Roier watches tv and cooks dinner, Cellbit sits at his desk and covers the corkboard with more and more pages until it's no longer visible. He gets into the habit of adding milk to his coffee, the taste too bitter and grating otherwise. And every afternoon when he arrives at the kitchen, his splash of milk in the mug grows longer and longer. It's fine, they're changing.
There was a point in time when they were saving up for a car. Something dependable that they could trust to withstand tiny kicking feet and mudstains, that could travel to volleyball practice and then to work with no trouble.
Now, Roier wanders the house and thinks about nothing. He thinks about his nothing walls and his nothing furniture and his nothing dinner. He thinks about his everything husband and his nothing life. He thinks that he might've lost his bandana in the wash the other day, but Cellbit likes it when his hair hangs loose.
Cellbit's hair hangs loose also. It's soft when Roier cards his fingers through the strands and wonders if it was always more white than brown. Was it ever not white? He's always had light brown hair, but something itches in the back of his brain that makes him pause and question whether Cellbit's hair was ever that light also. Clearly he's not sleeping enough, it's just the sunlight from the windows bleaching their hair.
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit have a lovely new house far away from the bustle of the city. They love it here.
They don't have to worry about anyone bothering them while they're at home, and their fridge is always stocked with plain yoghurt and tofu and chickpeas. Roier is working on fixing Cellbit's diet.
They eat dinner together, holding hands over the table. They watch mindless tv before bed. They brush their teeth together in the morning. Roier thinks about how much he loves Cellbit, and Cellbit looks at Roier like he hung the moon. They don't worry about crayon lines on the walls or jello splotches on the sofa. Roier doesn't worry about the phantom feeling of a small body cooling in his lap lingering every time he gets dressed for the day. Cellbit doesn't worry about the gasping pain in his chest or the papers he doesn't remember writing.
It starts like this.
Roier and Cellbit love each other, and they love their new house.
Roier and Cellbit don't have anyone else, just the white walls and the white furniture and their white clothes. Why would they need anyone else?
Roier and Cellbit got sold a new house by a man who was also a bear. And they never want to leave.
Roier and Cellbit are happy.
Roier and Cellbit are safe.
Roier and Cellbit have been missing for six weeks, if you have any information please call--
