Pre-orders will be opening in 7 days
We’re still waiting on a couple of merch files and finished illustrations, but it’s getting closer to wrap-up time.

Here is a list of the options we’ll be offering once pre-orders open!

PDF Copy - $10 (offered later in the PO period)

Zine Only - $20

Postcards/Stickers Bundle - $30
Includes: 1 zine, 4 postcards, and 2 sticker sheet

Merch Bundle - $35 (Limited)
Includes: 1 zine, 4 postcards, 2 sticker sheets, and 1 acrylic charm

These prices do not include shipping.

We’ll be releasing the merch previews as they come in, so follow this blog or our Twitter page for updates!

In the mean time, scroll through the previews our artists and writers have posted so far!

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Welcome To Dimension Z-35B

You have now arrived in Dimension Z-35B. Here is some basic knowledge on this dimension. Rick’s portal gun is blue, rather than green. Morty has a necklace that is a emergency portal. Rick Sanchez and Morty Smith are not related in this AU. This also takes place in an ABO based universe.

Like the characters? Like the art? Than come on over and follow our ask blog! To see more of the characters interacting with each other, the characters interaction with you! The people that ask the question and just to have a great time.

©Mordecai to @isthis0rganic

©Richard to @casual-skeleton-dreamcloud

Come join us in Dimension Z-35B

I Thought Of Angels Chapter II

Hi guys! This is obviously Chapter 2 of the Angel!Patrick AU that Jasmin @pmvstump and I have been working on! Go check out Chapter I here if you haven’t already and follow our official au blog! We hope you enjoy, and remember, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Those eyes. They were all Joe could see. They appeared everywhere- in the walls, on the television, in his cup of ramen noodles. Most especially, though, they appeared in his dreams. The gentle aquamarine, the color of tide pools at noon, of heavenly rain, of the rushing waves, flooded his senses at all times. That hue, the sparkling energy and the feeling of pure anxiety that came with them— they were all there, picturesque and beautiful and awkward and terrible, just as they had been when he first saw them. That color swarmed his thoughts, coated his brain, caused him to melt. Everything was that shade. There was no escape, and frankly, Joe enjoyed it in a warped, odd sort of way.


“Shitshitshitshitshit…” muttered Patrick, rummaging desperately through the clutter of his dresser drawers. Solid-colored shirts and blue jeans flew haphazardly through the air to land on his bedroom floor; piles of hoodies and underwear accumulated in the corners. Patrick tore the comforter off of his bed, digging around under the pillows, the sheets, the mattress. Nothing. He slammed open the bathroom door, fervently checking the faux-marble countertops with both his eyes and his hands. He tore the shower curtain back, causing the rod to detach from the wall and clatter to the floor. Still nothing.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, sinking in resignation to the ground. He dug around in his pockets for the fourteenth time as a last resort. Still nothing. He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned his head back against the wall, running his hands anxiously through his hair. Where were they? If he had really lost them, it’s not like he could just go get a replacement. And what damaged had he already caused by misplacing them? His wings, an almost iridescent clementine shade, flapped of their own accord out of sheer panic. He grabbed on to the left one, and set to smoothing out the fine, peachy feathers with his fingers in an attempt to calm himself: his ritual practice for fuck-ups. Shit. How was he supposed to fix this? And, the most detestable thought of all, what would THEY say?


Joe held the glasses tenderly, as if they were made of tissue paper, and turned them over and over in his hands. They were simple enough; bottle-thick lenses with basic black frames, but in some way, he felt— and he wasn’t sure how or why— they were sacred. His fingers, which were fairly thin to begin with, and rather dexterous from years of guitar-playing, felt suddenly like bulky sausages that could crunch the fragile glasses in an instant. Gingerly, he lifted the glasses to his eyes in experimentation, but dropped them almost immediately. Now, clutching his curls, Joe realized he had a splitting headache.

As he rose to get some painkillers from the kitchen cabinet, grumbling under his breath, he recounted what had happened at the audition yesterday. That boy from the bookstore—Patrick, if Joe’s memory didn’t fail him—had rushed in when he was called, clutching the neck of his acoustic guitar like it was a life preserver. He kept adjusting his hat, running his hands through his hair, and, strangely, reaching to touch his back as they asked him questions. The anxiety radiating off of him was almost palpable.

“Is it cool if I put my glasses down?” he had asked, before placing them on a plastic collapsible table. If he was going to ask if it was okay to do everything, Joe thought to himself, he certainly did not want this dude in the band. To be honest, he was beginning to regret inviting him, but he’d already convinced Pete that this guy was worth watching out for. When they had met at the Borders the other day, Joe could sense that Patrick really knew his stuff about music. Still, the idea of letting Pete down upset him, and he worried that he had been wrong.

Joe was as far as one could possibly be from wrong. When Patrick opened his mouth, both he and Pete were immediately taken aback. Patrick had a smooth voice, but with elements of roughness and rage that were especially surprising from a man of his meekness, not to mention his stature. He had infused in his voice a million different musical styles, some of which probably didn’t even exist. He was, quite plainly, excellent, and Joe and Pete agreed that he could be truly incredible with some professional training. It was clear that this kid could do it all- sing, play guitar, even write melodies; he played one of his original songs, which had been punchy and powerful. And, as had been mentioned in the bookstore, he was a fantastic drummer to boot. He could play drums like nobody’s business, tapping out rhythms faster and harder than seemingly possible for a human.

“He’s really fucking good, dude,” Pete had whispered to Joe during the audition. “Like, really fucking good. He’s just got a musical mind, y’know? Like… like his brain is wired for this shit”.

Joe just nodded. He was fixated on the boy standing before them, putting his whole being into every single note he played. After what seemed like an eternity and also no time at all, Patrick finished his set. He immediately fixed his eyes on the ground in front of him, and, just like that, the lion was replaced with the lamb from before.

“W-was that good?” he asked, as if he had no concept of how talented he was.

“That was—” Joe couldn’t come up with a word strong enough to describe what it was, which was fine, because Pete had already started talking over him.

“Fucking awesome, dude,” said Pete. “I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty badass. We’ll give you a call, ‘kay?”

Patrick nodded, looking up for the first time. He finally seemed satisfied with himself, his cheeks turning bright pink from the compliment.

“Thanks!” he said amicably, looking over the top of their heads.

Joe shook himself off.

“Yeah,” he said, “thanks for coming, dude. We’ll get back to you soon. Expect a call by…“

For a split second, not even long enough to say “One, Mississippi”, Joe and Patrick locked eyes. Suddenly, Joe was swimming in the Mediterranean, laughing hysterically, running his hands along the softest fabric he had ever felt, watching a fire dance under a moonlit sky.


“This time next week,” Pete said, nudging Joe with his elbow, and giving him his signature what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

“Cool,” said Patrick, staring at the tile again. “Thanks”. He left the room just as quickly and anxiously as he had entered, leaving his glasses on the table where he had placed them.

“Wait, Patrick, you forgot—“ Pete called out. When he ran into the hall, though, the boy was gone, as if he had simply disappeared. Pete re-entered the room, staring at the glasses he clutched in his hands. After a brief moment of pause, he tossed them to Joe.

“Can you get these back to him?” he asked.

“I… I don’t…” stuttered Joe.

“Great! Thanks dude,” Pete’s mouth twisted into a mischievous grin, and he clapped Joe on the back.

“Well, I gotta get going. Playing a show tonight with Arma in the city”. He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder, giving Joe a two-fingered salute and a wink before striding out the door. Joe remained, sitting alone, cradling the glasses in his palms, watching the pulsating waves of turquoise and cyan that existed only in his head, and feeling a spark of infatuation flickering in his chest.


Joe’s headache had faded to a dull throb, and he figured he should start trying to find this guy Patrick and return his glasses to him. He was probably walking around, Joe chuckled to himself, bumping into walls and shit. That mental image made him smile from ear to ear, as he considered the possibility of that awkward, tiny, adorable man walking face-first into a wall. Joe shook his head. No. Patrick was not adorable. He was a normal guy who he barely knew. Besides, he probably had a girlfriend or something. With his face, demeanor, and talent, Joe told himself, he was probably a regular chick magnet. Still, as a man, objectively, he was attractive. Of course, that didn’t mean Joe liked Patrick or anything. That would be crazy.
Harry Potter Q&A with Alex!
Alex and I answer Harry Potter questions, and a few other questions geared towards us, and go on a lot of tangents too! So sorry about the audio quality, Ale...

Hey guys! Remember when we asked you guys for questions ages ago? Well here’s the video with our answers! 

We’re so sorry it took so long, we had quite a few technical difficulties along the way.

Thanks for asking us questions, for following our blog, and thanks for watching, you guys are awesome!

About the lack of Elia Martell in Rhaegar's "appreciation" week.

Hello to everyone that follows our blog, I’m so happy that our number increases day by day.

Well, as a Elia’s blog, I need to talk about the lack of Elia’s presence in Rhaegar’s appretiacion week. Not that i really cared about it ( Elia doesn’t need this, she is far more than that) but in respect to the several people who follows us, i’ll write about it.

Firstly, I do not know when it happened, because I barely knew about it at all. I just found out about Rhaegar’s week because I saw a lot of people complaining about this matter.

Secondly, and the most important, why to delete Elia or to remove her importance?
I can also answer that, because people do not have maturity to understand the complexity of relationships. People can ship anything they want. I think and I said several times that is sick ,to ship a married adult depressed man to a young innocent teen and believe that it was love that lead to several murders, rapes and death…

Now, going to the point … I dont like Rhaegar, i dont care about him … YET, i dont reduce his importance in the story. Because I can be mature, I can be logical … What some Rhaegar and Lyanna fans (i mean the “couple” because there are several Lyanna fans that dont support this non sense ship especially after HBO’s fanfic) is to try to reduce Elia’s importance in the story.
Elia and her children WERE important … Just because we barely heard about her (just like we did to Rhaegar and Lyanna) does not mean she wasnt important to the narrative. She was Dorne, Dorne and house Martell grows of importance book by book.

So, that’s all I can talk about this whole new war. Elia was important.
When we did Elia Martell’s week, we never reduced Rhaegar’s role, eventhough we will never think well of him. But, if to reinforce the “love story” or the importance of Rhaegar into the narrative, you have to delete his lawful wife, a princess by right, the mother of the two heads of the dragon … that speaks out loud of which kind of people you are and how immature and alogic you can be

To all our followers,

This blog is run by a team of volunteers. None of us are paid for the work we do for this blog. 

We do our best to answer urgent/time sensitive asks as quickly as possible, but we aren’t always able to. We are not constantly checking the inbox and there are some questions that require time and thought and possibly discussion to be able to answer. 

If you have sent in an urgent ask and it hasn’t been answered within 24 hours, you are welcome to send in a follow up to ensure your ask was received. 

However, it is not acceptable to be demanding of us or our time. We are VOLUNTEERS who are all juggling a variety of life responsibilities and challenges. 

If you are truly in need of urgent assistance, particularly for questions that aren’t about autism, please contact a crisis helpline or other service designed to help during a crisis. 


First Post! Hi!

Hey guys!! Guess who’s back?

For those of you that followed us on our previous blog, (Hi! Welcome back, thanks so much for still supporting us!!) you knew us as ‘CartmaaanBrah’ - we’re still the same people doing the same thing, just under a different name!

After a year or so break, we’ve decided to return and pick up where we left off. 

We hope you’re all well, we’ve missed you!! <3

Get ready, everyone! There’s a new event in the works! Starting this December 1st to January 13th, we’ll be hosting a Winter Celebration for all things SniperPilot. Either follow our blog, or track #sniperpilot winter to keep up with the event as it unfolds.

This time around we’re opting for longer prompt times - a theme a week rather than a theme per day. With a few extras as well. Just like with the Halloween event, we’ll be asking for prompts soon. Expect more information on the prompt structure for the event, and the call for prompts to come later this week!

We’ll be seeing you all soon!


I’m super excited to say that we hit 1,000 followers last night! I’m so happy how the blog has been going and how fast it has been growing! I wanted to thank you all for following and participating in our blog! I was thinking of maybe doing a milestone celebration! If any of you guys have any suggestions of how we could celebrate and thank you guys, please send us a message! Thanks!


I had finally reached the 100 followers on Tumblr to some this may not seem a big deal but to me it is an achievement that i had always’ed wanted since making my account on Tumblr.

So in the behalf of the Inkyhearts gang and myself i thank you for helping me reach this goal.