#i just think that if cats can be happy we can too..... (starts comic with sad cat)

[cloudsthatglowinthenightsky]

heard i missed a day specifically for making terrible comics... decided no i didn't. enjoy :3

[chiacanwritesometimes]

everybody adores you, at least i do.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

based on “everybody adores you (quiet)” by matt maltese :)

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

authors note: i wrote this after listening to ^^^ on repeat, god i love matt maltese. there are scenes of alcohol intake, a panic attack and brief self harm. please dni if these topics bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. this was a pretty long drabble, hope you enjoy :D

============

you can act all shy, but you know that i want you.

you aren’t one for flattery, that much was obvious. every time bucky took the time to compliment you, he knew what your next words would be. like clockwork, you would turn red, look away, and sheepishly mutter, “thanks”. you fiddled with your hands, and quickly changed the subject. how desperately he wanted to hold your hands, and kiss them. for years, he pined over you, and you’ve always been almost at his grasp. these past couple of weeks though, it seemed to hit you, that he wanted you.

in the dead of night, i want to live with you.

it all started three years ago, after everyone came back from the blip. people were everywhere, and it seemed that all the noise that lacked from the world came back in an instant. after realizing what happened to you, your environment and your home, you couldn’t help but laugh. how comical, that it seemed like nothing changed. your family hadn’t contacted you, well, the distant family that you still had. you walked to a bar in the hazy hours of the night, and met him. some guys were bothering him about his glove, but he seemed unaffected. he just stared ahead, and drank his whiskey. you devised a plan, to distract the assholes and to maybe introduce yourself. you didn’t want to seem like you were trying to pick him up, but you were trying to make friends in this new world. you asked the bartender quietly to escort the two loud drunks out, and sat down next to him. you didn’t think you’d get this far, so you were at a loss on what to say. did people still talked the same five years later? of course they did, but how do you navigate yourself into talking? your thoughts piled up, and they kept piling up, until his gruff voice interrupted them.

“thanks.” he grumbled quietly.

“hm?” you didn’t catch what he said, as you were too distracted. he cleared his throat.

“i said thanks. for the, yeah.” he pointed to the two men outside. he wasn’t much for words, you realized. you sighed in relief and nodded.

“yeah, dont sweat it.”

he offered to walk you home, as a sign of gratitude. it amused you both that you lived in the same building. small world. you invited him inside, but he hesitated.

“we can take a rain check, if you’d like. ill write you my number.” you assured him, and walked inside to grab a post it. what were you doing? giving a stranger your number? you put those thoughts to rest as you wrote your number.

he awkwardly waited at the half open door. he was glad to have made a…friend? he didn’t know what to call you yet, but he was sure to catalogue you at the back of his mind to let his witch of a therapist know. over the next couple of weeks, you had began to know him better. he had a cat, alpine. he had a past that he wasn’t open to sharing. his apartment was empty, almost ready to be left without a tenant at any moment. he froze at your touch, so you made a mental note to not do that. what a strange person. you knew he disappeared during the blip as well, but you felt as if he had lost more than five years.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

a year had passed for your friendship. you came to his apartment, unexpected, and brought two little cupcakes with candles on them.

“what’s this?” he asked, a little embarrassed to be touched by such a small little gesture.

“its our friendship anniversary, goofy.”

“do we sing happy birthday, or what?” you paused. you weren’t sure, you didn’t really think of singing.

“um, we can have toasts if you’d prefer that. yes, toasts! ill get the glasses.” you sprung to your feet and gracefully navigated yourself in his small kitchen. you had spruced up his place a little, buying him hand towels, candles, and little trinkets that make a house a home, or rather, an apartment into a cozier place to live. you brought the two flutes, and filled them with champagne. he frowned.

“that is definitely not mine.”

“i brought it to celebrate, we need something fancy.” he rolled his eyes, but went along to your little celebration. he sat on his couch and observed you placing the cupcakes on the coffee table, and as you passed him his glass.

“ill go first. um…” you didn’t want to admit that you had started liking him, so you decided to say general statements.

“i hadn’t had a friend since, high school? maybe…so thank you for letting me be yours. err, friend, that is. to many more.” you clinked your glass with his, and motioned for him to go next.

“my last friend died a year ago. you haven’t died yet, so cheers to that.” he said dryly, with a little smile on his face. he thought he was so funny. he clinked his glass with yours, and drank the liquid. you rolled your eyes and mirrored him.

you started watching a movie with him, but you weren’t really paying attention. he started to accept your touch more and more, and you watched the movie with your head leaning on his shoulder. he leaned his head on yours, and tried his best to not move, so as to not bother you. the second act of the movie was commencing, and he had something on his mind. he had to fess up eventually about who he is- who he was, that is. someone he no longer was, someone he despised so vehemently.

“doll?” he tested the waters. he started calling you that, a reminder of how much of a casanova he was when he was in high school. you protested but eventually let him continue calling you that, as it was more effort telling him to stop than you cared to give.

“mm?” you hummed softly, half asleep.

“i wasn’t joking about my toast.”

“i didn’t think you were. you don’t have to talk about it if you don-“

“i want to talk about it.”

you paused. this was rare. you didn’t know what to think, so you gave him the space to talk.

“there’s a reason i’m always wearing this glove, you know.”

“yeah, circulation problems.” you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

“doll, i was born in 1917.”

“…” you sat up. “what? james, you’re not being funny right now.”

he continued tentatively.

“my name is james buchanan barnes and i was born in march 10, 1917.” he recited as if giving a memorized speech, his monotone words hitting you, syllable by syllable.

“i was forced to be the winter soldier, and i was framed for the U.N bombing.” your facial expression must’ve hinted that you put the pieces together, and he stopped.

“and, yeah. i have a metal arm.” he added almost rushed, he wanted to explain that part as well. he gave you space to fully digest everything.

“so…your friend that died was…” he nodded.

“steve rogers.” he finished for you.

“wow.” you didn’t know what to say, you just sat there. everything made so much sense now, why he always wore a glove, why he never had any pictures of friends or family, nothing. suddenly, you smiled.

“doll?” he looked confused. your best friend admitted to lying about his identity to your face for a year, and you’re…smiling?

“the first friend i made in ten years is someone who’s older than me by eighty years.” you giggled.

“i don’t- you’re not mad?” his brain short circuited. you’re not responding the way he thought you would’ve. you shook your head.

“i mean, what kind of friend am i for you not to be able to trust me with that? yeah, im a little blindsided, but i understand. i still see you as my friend.”

he didn’t know what to do. tears threatened to fall.

“pay attention to this part, its my favorite.” you leaned back to your original position, as if nothing happened. you offered your hand, and he took it.

don't modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

“dont look at me like that.” you said, a little tipsy. you had been friends with him for two years now, and you had invited him over to your apartment, for new year’s. you both didn’t really have any plans, or friends, for that matter. of course, he had sam, but sam was with his sister for the new year. he had barged into your apartment with a six case of beer on him, and two little paper hats saying, “happy new year!”. how adorable. you weren’t dressed up, gracing yourself with an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. you sat on the couch with your legs on his lap, his flesh hand holding his beer and his metal hand holding you. he traced small circles on your calves, which felt really intimate. you’re grateful he used his metal hand, because you weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he used his skin to tease you so.

“like what?” he asked. his tone was quiet, his eyes searching for permission in yours. permission for what?

“like you want to kiss me.”

“and what if i do?” there it was. you didn’t want to ruin any friendship you still had left after he threw that bombshell. you paused and looked away. you took another sip of your beer.

“i’m afraid i’ll have to decline your advances.” you quietly said. its not that you didn’t love him, but it all felt so wrong. the only reason he wanted to kiss you was because it was the new year, and that stupid fucking tradition.

“you know i could get lost in those eyes. i’d trip over my words trying to find my way back.” he admitted. he really did love you. god, he loved you.

“if you keep looking at me like that, i might think that you have a crush on me.” you teased, face red. from the intimacy or from the alcohol? you weren’t sure, maybe it was both.

“and what if i did?”

“bucky…” you sighed. you sat up and moved your legs away from him.

“i mean it. would that be such a crime?” he leaned his body towards you. you noticed that his cheeks had their own hue of red, and his eyes felt unsure.

“bucky.” you cut him off. you didn’t know what to say. its not like you could say, “i dont want you to kiss me for new year’s, because i want you to kiss me for real.” you didn’t know what to say, so you just shook your head slightly. he nodded, stood up, and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“i understand.” he whispered into your ear. you bit your lip, this was the friendliest he had ever been towards you, and you only wished for more. he smiled softly and said,

“happy new year, y/n.”

right where the black wood sighs, i look at you, through and through.

your birthday was coming up, and he decided to surprise you. he researched thoroughly about forests located next to you, and found the one. things had been a little rough post new year’s eve, but your connection through knowing who he was kept the friendship close. you soon were back to your old self, but remained a bit guarded.

your birthday was today. you hadn’t received any messages from him, so you felt a bit let down. you sighed throughout the day as you kept checking. suddenly, around 2 in the afternoon, he knocked on your door with a basket in hand, and flowers in the other.

“happy birthday, doll.”

it’s safe to say that you spent the rest of your day very content, and impressed at the picnic he had organized.

right where your father died I'll hold on to your hand.

you don’t remember much from your father, other than the fact that he died early in your youth. you detested seeing children with both their parents with them, even as an adult. you felt jealous, angry at your father for dying. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but still. you occasionally visited his grave, and the place where he passed on. it was a rainy day, the day he went with you. you asked him to go, as you weren’t feeling so well. he obliged.

the downpour matched the dreary mood, and as you stood near the bench he died on, a bench he felt was familiar. he started to panic, thinking that somehow he was the one responsible for the death of your father, wondering if you taking him here was some sort of ploy to avenge your father.

“he got caught in the crossfire of a crime.” you admitted. “police were chasing this guy, and he meant to shoot the…” you trailed off. he knew what you were trying to say and he nodded. he sighed, partly from the mood and partly from relief that he wasn’t the one that took him from you. you took his hand and held it. he squeezed your hand, and rubbed circles on your knuckles.

“thank you.” what an odd thing for him to say to you, but you knew that he meant for taking him to a place so sacred to you.

“now we’re even.” you smiled at him. no more secrets about the past.

so terrified of the road that takes you, me too.

panic attacks didn’t hit him often. it was around two weeks since his last one, and it wasn’t something he wasn’t thinking of at the time, until now.

he spent so much time at your place, so much in fact, that some of his mail correspondence was sent to your place by the mailman. how silly. he was over for some random dinner, and conversed with you as you cooked. you were making spicy chicken alfredo, or something along those lines. he didn’t really pay attention, he only focused on you. he noticed how fluid you were in the kitchen, as if you were dancing. when he thought you were going to run into a cabinet, you moved away just in time. wether that be for your reflexes or by chance, he wasn’t sure. he had shared with you a couple vinyls, a way of sharing his past with you. he hummed along to the smooth voice of ella fitzgerald, until you interrupted the noise with a yelp of pain. he turned to you, and noticed you had cut your finger with the knife, which confirmed to him that in fact, the reason you didn’t run into cabinets was by chance, maybe some guardian angel working overtime. he kissed your finger, and walked to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. everything was going so well, too. its just a small setback. until, he came back.

you looked to be covered in blood everywhere, with a heavy concentration on your torso. there was a gunshot in your stomach area, and you hunched over the cabinet for support. at least, that is what he saw. in reality, you leaned on the cabinet, waiting for him. his heart dropped and his eyes scanned you so worriedly. he ran to you, inspected your arms, your eyes, your neck, your stomach. your confused expression felt almost like daggers at him, and he started hyperventilating. he felt hands all around him, suffocating him. he knelt to the ground, gasping for air. his hair started clinging to his forehead, his clothes suddenly felt too tight, the air felt too hot, his metal arm too familiar. did he do this? he kept thinking. he heard a voice, his voice, but different. it was him.

“of course you did this.” he said, full of poison. tears fell down his eyes, and they kept falling, even when he shut them so tightly. he clawed at his metal arm, at his reminder of who he was.

you tried your best to make him realize that you were there, and in fact, not dead. no matter your volume, he couldn’t hear you. he was rocking back and forth, and you kneeled to his eyeline.

“bucky?” you kept saying. you kept repeating, kept trying to open his eyes, move his hand from hurting his shoulder. soon, your hands were stained with the blood drawn from where metal met skin. you sat with him, and listened to his cries. you didn’t know what to do, he hadn’t discussed panic attacks with you, so you weren’t sure if you could hold him or not. you decided to take a risk and rub his back, and lean your head on top of his. a few minutes were spent like that, his quiet sobs filling the apartment. eventually, he calmed down enough to the point of hugging you, and whispered “i’m sorry”. that’s all he said, and he kept saying it. his face was nuzzled into your neck, and he kept saying that. your hands held him tightly, your own tears falling as well. he stopped hurting himself, but seeing him in this state broke your heart. you knew why seeing you bleeding affected him so badly. he didn’t often tell you of all the people he killed, but when he did, he was always filled with immense grief. you’d always remind him that it wasn’t really him, and that he didn’t have body autonomy. those words, although comforting, felt like a lie. he was scared you believed differently, thought of him differently. your words and your touch remained the same, though. after his panic subsided, you led him to the sink, and washed his hands. you cleaned his wounds, and wrapped them with gauze. you asked him to stay at your place, and he accepted. you set his bed, and gave him some spare clothing you had. he sat down next to you, and watched you lay down, before looking at you. his blue eyes looked into yours, asking for permission. you held your arms up, and he instantly moved. he laid on top of you, almost tentatively. you ran your fingers through his hair, and he adjusted himself on top of you, holding your waist. no words were exchanged.

you two never spoke of that moment.

don’t modify, every one adores you, at least i do.

three years had passed since you first crossed paths, and he wanted to be the one to initiate the celebration. he didn’t know how surprise you, you two had already done a lot of things. picnics, dinners, sleepovers. he realized he needed to buy a gift. what should he get you? you already had enough jewelry, you always went thrift shopping with him, and you seemed pretty content with everything you had. it clicked in his mind. he got you a photo album for your pictures, and a star projector, showing how the stars looked like on the day you first met. he felt nervous, he hadn’t felt this close to someone in a while, and he was scared to ruin it.

you spent the anniversary gushing over your gift, and kept complimenting him throughout that night. his fears for being a bad friend were eased.

everybody has you up on their wall sometimes.

he wasn’t one for photography. his walls were bare, aside from the decorations you bought for him. you, however, loved your polaroid camera. you took pictures of anything you deemed important, like meeting someone with a similar outfit to yours, a cat you saw on the street, and him. you deemed him important, and he had to pretend like that wasn’t the biggest compliment ever. he had to pretend that every time you snapped a picture of him, he wasn’t blushing so hard, and how he loved being your muse. he started putting more effort into his appearance, so you would take more pictures. you noticed, of course you noticed. you had to keep a solid stream of film. one day, he held your camera. he often wondered how you saw the world, and seeing the little window in the polaroid camera made him smile. you were comically posing in the couch, giggling with every new pose. he clicked away, happily. he then sheepishly asked for a serious picture, for his new collection. well, your picture would be the first in the collection. how fitting, that you would be the one to star in the little joy you shared with him. your face flushed a bit as you sat up and smiled softly at him. he swallowed his nervousness, and took the picture. as he let it develop, he walked away, leaning on the wall. he didn’t want to let you see how red he was. you didn’t know if you were friends or not. of course, you were friends, but you weren’t sure if you were more. you walked to where he was, took the picture from him and placed it on a side table. you grabbed the camera from his hand, and tossed it lightly to your couch. you looked at his lips, his eyes, his scars. you lifted your hand and traced his eyebrows, his nose, his chin, his jawline. his eyes fluttered shut, as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. he pulled you closer, as if you were the air he so desperately needed to breathe, as if you were the water in the middle of the desert. he held you so gently, leaning you against the wall. he leaned his lips towards yours, but didn’t press forward. he just breathed deeply, breathing you in. you looked up at him.

“bucky?” you asked softly, as to not shatter the moment.

“please. you’re all i have ever wanted these three years. i’ve been…you’re…” he couldn’t find the words. he grew a little frustrated at his lack of ways to express himself.

“i love you. from the minute i knew you, from new year’s, every birthday, every anniversary. please, y/n. i need you, like i need air, like i need water, like i need…you.” his eyes looked into yours, waiting for a response in the almost deafening silence.

you leaned forward, kissed him, and were made his that night.

everybody thinks of you when they sleep at night.

he liked waking up next to you. he liked the way your hair ruffled up because of the pillow. he loved the way your eyelashes fluttered when you opened your eyes, and your sleepy smile greeted him.

“good morning, bucky.” you would say.

“dreams?” he’d reply. if you had any dreams, you’d go on in detail about them, and if not, you’d shrug and say,

“my subconscious took the night off.”

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, and kiss you. how wonderful, that he was able to kiss you, show you how much you meant to him, make you his. how serendipitous, that the first words he ever said to you were “thank you.” fate knew. you knew.

when I say, "everybody", i'm actually referring to mе.

[threepandas]

Like A Dangerous Cat: Yandere!Aizawa

See, here's the thing. (And don't get me wrong, to each their own.) I come across Yandere!Aizawa fics time and again, that forget his crucial truth. This man? THIS man... is fuckin EXHAUSTED.

No sexy body or "ooooh~ IMPRISON ME sempai~♡" energy is gonna motivate him enough to get out of his damn sleeping bag. No today, not tomorrow. Not EVER. He's best friends with Nemuri, for god's sake. He's seen finer tits for far less effort.

And HURTING you? Why would he do THAT? You got something to confess? He has more then a few cops on speed dial. He WILL if he must... but for your sake. Do Not Make Him Do That.

It's his napping time.

He gets that so, SO fucking rarely.

But! Does this mean he can not become a Yandere? Are we cursed to a hot hobo-daddy-less Yandere-free world?

The FUCK it does!

He has SO much love to give. And is that not the CORE of the Yandere? The love? The OBSESSION. Hey, real quick, how much of his personality has he completely reshaped around the hole Oboro left in his life? How far do you think he would GO for Mic? What do you think he would DO?

The thing is? He's not the sort of Yandere that would ever hurt or humiliate his Darling. Oh no, he'd sooner die. Take you all with him. No...

No he's a HERO.

He's gonna PROTECT them. Make them HAPPY. Bask in the light of it, like a cat on a sunbeam. And? HOW he protects them? What he needs to DO, to make sure everything is SAFE? That their dreams come true and their path is full of nothing but rose petal n light? Well... they don't need to know about THAT do they?

That's his JOB, isn't it?

To be a HERO. To PROTECT. Keep watch, just in case.

And? He is the sort of Yandere you'll NEVER notice. Others will. They'll never get the chance to WARN you, but they'll notice. Or, they'll already be so wrapped up in his madness, that it all feels normal.

You'll just... start finding your life easier, all of a sudden. Little things will start going your way. Then bigger and bigger. That creep who kept cat calling you? Finally stopped! The rumored pervert around the neighborhood? Caught! Oh! Look! You didn't even KNOW about this sale!

Wonder how the ad even GOT to you...

Still, you'll brush it off. Pet some cats. Wonder why all the guys who used to hit on you STOPPED. Figure they were messing with you. Oh, hey! Promotion! You buy nicer coffee for the weird hobo looking Hero that uses your balcony as a patrol rest stop.

You DID offer.

Even set up a lil coffee maker out there. Electric kettle. A lockable snack box n stuff. You figured he wouldn't trust food left to the open air. It's suspicious, right? He knocked on your sliding door and asked about it. You guys had a conversation and everything. Was pretty cool.

And? Slowly? He'll pull you in. Vague thank you notes becoming polite but generic "how are you"s. Which of course meanders in to questions about things you mention. Longer responses from you. More and more notes. Until? Oh, he just HAPPENS to be early today...

Slowly, carefully, dragging you into his friend group. Letting Mic do the heavy social lifting. Letting Nemuri do the loud girls nights. Letting you roam free, happy and oblivious. Careful as he peppers in the benefits of working for UA. Good pay, excellent protection, unmatchable care package...

Ah, but he's rambling, you were mentioning your unreasonable boss?

And of course, his friends will tease. He has a "crush". That's one word for what he feels. They suggest dates and hookups. It sounds awful. He has an almost comically low sex drive. You would too, with working hours like his. WOULD he though?

The second you showed interest. In anyway you'd have him. Like it's his life's MISSION to get you off. He'd do RESEARCH. Deep dives. Your computer? Hacked. Your search history? Gone through with a fine tooth comb. He found your smut stash WEEKS ago. Has copies of every title, been going through them like he's studying for a final.

He's been friends with Nemuri for YEARS. Knows things youve never even considered. If not from HER, then from her 18+ Hero work friends. They're loud. He's vaguely annoyed that it actually HAS become useful knowledge.

And? The thought of having you completely, taking you apart, holding you, boneless and soft and warm against him? Makes feels like some horny teenager, for how quick that does it for him. He has FANTASIES of what he would do to you, if he actually had enough time of to be well rested.

Wants to pamper you. Wants to limp, bruised and sore, to your apartment, so you'll WORRY. Want to pamper HIM. Want to focus on him. Pay attention to him. Be soft and careful and gentle with him. Your poor wounded hero...

Ah, he bets he could convince you to let him sleep, propped up in your arms.

It'd be so WARM.

In the meantime? He'll slowly get you used to him. Use Mic to do it. That's right, every hour is cuddle hour. It's good for mental health and hormonal regulation. Perfectly logical, really, to get some casual touch from trusted friends, right? Honestly, there's nothing to see here. He's harmless. Of course he can help braid your hair. Sure you can lean against him. Cold? Let's share a sleeping bag.

He's harmless.

Like a grumpy cat.

A big, dangerous cat.

[barrenclan]

HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS TIME GAMERSSSS

omg daffy with the save!!! i guess she’s not really wrong, traveling herbs are basically superpowers, but THAT’S MY FAVE!!!

ooh no. him staying “still can’t half hear” makes me wonder if any hearing will return at all, but i guess that’s for the epilogues! but in any case getting more on blacknose after it all is always a win… happy she’s still ‘here’ in a sense.

OH SO NIGHTBERRY ISN’T STAYING BECAUSE OBLIGATION SHE’S JUST STAYING SO COOTSTORM ISN’T ALONE AND BECAUSE OF TRAVEL AND CYPRESSFOOT??? :(((( MAN!!!!! though technically nightberry.. probably doesn’t have long left, so cootstorm will still be on her lonesome. tbh even though i hate cootstorm i eagerly wait to see if we get an epilogue for her, just to dig into her mind during isolation…

MAGIC EYEBALL POWERS AOFJRKENEKEN NOOOOO

AYO!!! THE CHARACTER ARC!! LET’S GO PLUMSTRIPE!! i love how they start on ‘we’ but then goes back onto ‘i’, major props to plumstripe for taking that first step and moving beeface on to apologize too!!

agehehhh beeface’s apology :(( god god i am NOT GOING TO CRY OVER CAT COMIC TODAY NOOOOOO!!!

OH WOW DAFFY DOESN’T ACCEPT HER APOLOGY???? to be honest.. LETS GO DAFFY GO STAND YOUR GROUND AND ACKNOWLEDGE THE APOLOGY BUT DON’T FEEL PRESSURED TO ACCEPT IT!!!! i think a daffy near the start of this probably would have just said “i accept your apology” to just.. get it over with, but my girl has GROWN!!!!!!!! SHE IS COMFORTABLE IN HER OWN SKIN AND WILLING TO DEFEND HERSELF!!! LETS FUCKING GOOOOO!!! i don’t want to say 100% because i could be illiterate but daffy’s mentor relationship with beeface can probably be described as abusive?? so i am very proud of her for voicing what she needs and saying she wants to go no contact!!! and yes it is stupid to say i’m proud of a fictional kitty but I DON’T CARE !!! DAFFY I’VE SEEN YOU GROWWWWW

god i’m so curious as to what bee would’ve done if plum wasn’t there, but also i’m overjoyed plum stopped.. whatever was gonna happen. cain and abel more like slugpelt and rainhaze amrite??

YES TALK ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS CHILDREN!!!! yess daffy!!!!! very happy with her realizations that she doesn’t need a mate and/or kits to be fulfilled, but even if she tries and it doesn’t work out she has people… that’s my girl!!!! there is so much love in her heart and it’s growing every day.. she’s been through so much and still she just loves her family and her friends and wants to share even more of it.. AGGGGG DAFFY YOU’RE SO GROWNNNNNN AGGEGGVV!!!!

i forgot this was the pinewing comic for a second my bad. blinded by my favorite. anyways yes this is so stupid but i love the reminder that he and corm are ‘official’ now. they’re in love hehehe!!!!

yesyes please visit guys

SPOOKY BRAIN MAGIC LMAOOO i hope even when pinewing visits she never stops calling the magic funny names. it’s so good

oh they’re gonna visit asphodelshine i guess i am crying.. i forget what blue borders mean are those imagination? she does also look so much older.. are those daffy’s imagined kits or are those the stillborns that came before them..?

OH THIS IS STILL GOING OKAY I’M BUCKLING BACK IN

WAIT WHEN DID SLUG BREAK A LEG????? was this because of south park raccoon’s chomping or???

NO SLUG NO WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!!! DON’T LEAVE YOU BEHIND!! NO ROTTING!!

oh gawd pinewing just wants his mom what if i cried again.. don’t rot for the dead live for the.. living idk i’m trying to sound cool but i’m too emotional over kitty cat comic.

CORM HELLO

awggeghh his home isn’t this place it’s the people…

“this time you’ll have me” GAY!! GAY PEOPLE!!! OH WOW THEY’RE SO GAY. they’re so adorable raz i did not go here expecting one of the cutest couples in fiction hello??

HI STRANGER ALNELEBELEIEKEJE I THINK I MIGHT LOVE YOU OH KY GODBSKDNEKDJD LET’S GO FIND SOMEWHERE NEW!! THIS PANEL IS SO PRETTY!! RAHHHHHHHHHHH

i love this comic so much.. i cannot believe it is ending but at least we have funny gay people…

I am gonna miss getting your issue reactions so badly! What a journey it's been!! :,)

Pinewing is now permanently hard of hearing in his scarred ear, because Hacksaw was able to damage some of his inner ear as well as the outer skin.

Yeah, even if she wasn't super old and weary, Nightberry wouldn't want to leave her daughter behind in isolation like this. To her, she's already fulfilled her last duty - telling Pinewing about oracles - so she can rest a little easier now. Cootstorm does have an epilogue, and I am super excited to get to it. >:]

Plumstripe's been having her own little character arc in the background of the last ten-ish issues, and this is where it really comes to the forefront! She's a lot guiliter and more unsure than Beeface is, but she's okay with guiding the two of them. And yeah, it was important to me that Daff accepted the apology but didn't forgive! It's okay to not forgive your abusers, and still want to them to become better people at the same time.

So real for being blinded by Daffodilcloud, she is wonderful and should be appreciated at all times.

Someday, in the future, Daffodilcloud: hey Pinewing can you find lunch for us with your brain lasers?

Pinewing: alright,

Blue borders are hypotheticals/imagination, yes! Daff is imagining what it could have been like for Asphodelshine to be an aunt to her own kittens in the future that never was.

Slugpelt broke her leg when Deepdark kicked her!

At heart I'm just a big sap who wants things to work out okay. And I like telling stories about people who get to have love and keep surviving despite the hard things they go through. Thanks for reading. <3

[doe-prince]

I love Golden Shrike! I've had my own comic idea for about a decade now, but I'm wondering, for you, how long did it take you to be confident enough with your art to start your comics? had you attempted panels and backgrounds earlier and didn't put them out because you weren't happy with them yet? I'm almost done with my characters and writing but I'm worried I'm not good enough to actually start doing panels

(these are just my views and experiences! there's as many approaches as there's artists)

I was BAD when I started comics, but then I again I was a kid who didn't care if my bunny-cat-digimon comics weren't good enough, it was just fun to do. Which is what it should still be, fun and a fulfillment to you. I think the happiest an artisit can be is when they can draw like they have no audience.

My comics stopped in my teenhood when I actually wanted to make something good. I made so much groundwork but VERY rarely got to the actual page production because I thought everything should be perfect, but we all know there's no such thing. When I noticed all my attempts were doomed, I stopped making them for like ten years until I was zapped with Fuck It We Ball-mentality. And it's the best thing that has happened to me. Childhood whimsy. Make your own toys.

Did I make test pages for Golden Shrike before starting production? Well, the first page of the comic is a test page. And the second page. And the whole first chapter. I just never stopped. Not smart but it's what works for me. Starting these 'test pages' has kickstarted two bigger comics for me, Golden Shrike and Jet and Harley.

Sure I made couple of style tests for GS even though I had a clear visual vision from the start, but Jet and Harley I just started to draw without any real practice pieces, just based on couple of CSP brushes I wanted to use. This isn't very smart as you'll likely find out later that MAN, this style takes too much effort, but if you're unlike me and don't care so much for consistency, you can always simplify it on the fly. And even I've had to change it: I stopped shading after chapter 5, briefly used 3D assets in upcoming pages, now I'm gonna shrink the font a little. They're teeny tiny things for readers, but huge for me.

There's many comic authors who like to plan every little detail before getting to work, but it doesn't work for me so I can't say much about it. I have a skeleton to follow, but I fully flesh out each chapter one by one when I reach them with pages, because I like to revisit my old visions with fresh brains. When you actually get to work, you might realize some scenes aren't needed, or they'd be better changed. Don't be scared to crack some ribs off your story skeleton. Being too loyal to your old vision can often hinder you.

Starting production is the biggest monster in comic making, but after the first step you'll mow over it leaving it in your dust and create a baby you can be so proud of. I wish you, and everyone else on the cusp of their projects GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN, LOVE YOUR WORK.

[psicheanima]

I find myself thinking frequently about something which is not real, so I am not certain what the thought itself consists in. Yet, I know that everyone is involved or scheming behind my back - without me being made privy to their plans - but I am well aware of the animosity. It is painful. I do know.

Could it be a conspiracy? I don’t know. But it hurts me. I am aware of the dislike towards me. I have not mistaken it. It is something that is being contrived and hatched, and which I am not a part of. I believe my enemies are in cahoots to do me harm. I understand them. They hate me.

Perhaps it is nothing but an illusion! I cannot know for certain — I am clueless about any life that has been lived. What do I know? Perhaps I am too cynical and it is only my own imagination that people want to harm me. I see conspiracies at every turn. And perhaps it is not real. I am not certain, I am just being paranoid.

No. It is a sham. It is all fabricated — the entire landscape is nothing but a lie. We should abandon it, we can no longer endure it. It is becoming unbearable. It is such a terrible place here. The surroundings are artificial; it is all make believe. It is time to throw in the towel, as it has become unbearable. It is so horrible here.

Staying here anymore is too much — it is time to escape to outer space right at this moment! It is no longer habitable here! I mean to begin anew on a remote planet where the water-courses are of gold and the air impregnated with sulphurous vapours. The atmosphere burns in my chest like sunburnt flesh - I feel I am roasting on a spit.

A galaxy star meat boy - I'm being raised to please aliens? Is this my life? No - no - this can't be - people detest me — must these aliens have taken me? No - they are so friendly — their faces so affable. I can't believe it -- their smiles! -- I've found a family to embrace me; the universe is no longer empty and my life has value.

We were both sitting on the bed. I was happy. I was still very new to everything. I'd lost all shame. I felt as if I'd discovered the way to be happy in life, and I was certain of the truth of what I'd been told, that I was loved, that I would be happy, that I had only to keep quiet and not talk about what I had been told: that life was beautiful, that we made our own happiness, that it was simple as longas one was loved.

But as I sat there, happy, proud, I became conscious of a slow, persistent, gentle pressure on my left side. Something was being removed from me; I wasn't sure what. I was still quite naive. This thing, whatever it was, they said they loved. At first I did nothing. The extraction continued, and my contentment gradually ebbed with it. The feeling of being emptied, deprived, was not painful - merely an absence of pleasure. And then I started to realise that I did not want to lose it.

A part of me is gone, an absence where only the shadow of sensation remains. However, all is not lost. My cats amuse me, and I can still take pleasure in their comical antics. My mundane life as a market-gardener proceeds thus: I wish to eat a dish that has never been cooked; I want to be clothed with garments cut to my measure; I would like to lie on distant meadowland in high hills. Such songs I would hear that have not been sung before — such joy I want to know; so much life do I crave.

Can it be right that one who is detested longs so intensely? Is there a limit? I ask — perhaps you will tell me – but this is what I feel: I should have the answer. Someone like me, who is unconnected, who's not at all involved, should have an explanation.

That is all it seems to be; the answer is that we’re not involved, and we can return home and sleep. We are a tired person. I suddenly yawned, a long, gaping yawn: the tears trembled in my eyes ready to fall. I felt I had never felt so sleepy in all my life.

I love you! Let’s meet each other as soon as we can! I love you in daylight, by the moonlight and at any time! Thank you for your words. I'm alright, I can manage. I shall sleep, it will help, it will be alright. I am here now and when I wake it will be alright. I shall still be here for a while.

Oh, how long is that, then? To be here? Oh… Well.

In my way, I'm devoted to all of you.

But please don't hate me...it's all just verse.

[jellofish-of-the-deep]

Y/N Dies of a Caffeine Overdose and Lycaon Finds Your Corpse in a Public Bathroom

Read on ao3 here:

It was a day like any other for the employees of Victoria Housekeeping. Rina was ordering her Bangboos (Bangboo? Bangbi?) to dust the bookshelf, Ellen was holding the vacuum cleaner in one hand while tapping at her phone in the other, and Corrin was busy being useless.

In the middle of the room stood Von Lycaon, proud and diligent president of the company, the pocket watch in his paw reflecting gilded sunlight onto snowy fur. In a smooth, practiced motion, he stowed the watch in his breast pocket, sighing.

“Corrin, although I admire your tenacity, your performance has been lacking this morning. I have noticed a twenty-two percent decline in incomprehensible sobbing from you today, and an almost seventy percent decrease in rampant property destruction. At this rate, you are never going to hit your quota.”

“Ah!” squeaked Corrin as she tripped over thin air, catching herself by stabbing her saw blade into their very rich client’s very expensive and irreplaceable rug. The rug spontaneously burst into flames. The pair looked at it for a second, before Corrin practically slammed her head into the ground. “I-I’m very sorry for not meeting your expectations, Mr. Lycaon!”

“It is quite alright Corrin, we each have our off days. However, may I inquire as to the reason for your lapse in focus? If there is any way in which I may assist you in upholding your ‘dojikko-moe’ character, as the kids these days call it, I shall be happy to lend you my aid.”

“Please… please don’t ever say that again, boss,” Ellen muttered emotionlessly, blood trickling from her ears.

“Well, you see, Mr. Lycaon… I-It’s [Y/N].”

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “The Proxy?”

“Yes! I’m just so worried about them, Mr. Lycaon… Oh, they’re not in danger or anything! At least, I don’t think so…”

Lycaon did that thing that hot fictional men do where they put their index finger and thumb on their chin. “Would you care to elaborate, Corrin?”

“Oh, yes! Well, it started last week…”

One week ago

After two hours of crashing into every single person who walked by, Corrin finally managed to escape the train station and step into Sixth Street. It was one of her favorite places to visit, as it was never too loud and there were plenty of alleyways she could duck into to break down crying at a moment’s notice.

Unfortunately, Corrin did not have time for a nervous breakdown today, as she was here to run an important errand for Victoria Housekeeping: namely, to repair their Butler Bangboo that she mistook for an Ethereal yesterday before promptly brutalizing it with her fully charged EX Special Attack. Now, if she remembered correctly (a rare occurrence), she just had to turn this corner to get to the Turbo Remodeling Shop…

“FUCKING SHIT GOD DAMN IT I’M GOING TO END IT ALL!”

At the sudden string of expletives, Corrin yelped and dove headfirst into the nearest trash can, startling the cats that happened to be sleeping inside and leaving Corrin with a fresh set of claw marks on her face.

“W-What was that?” Corrin whimpered, peeking around the corner. The noise, she now recognized, was coming from the music shop, Bardic Needle.

“WHAT DO YOU M E A N, I’M OUT OF MASTER COPIES??? I HAD HUNDREDS OF THOSE LITTLE SHITS SAVED UP!!!”

A tired, robotic sigh echoed across the street. “Please, [Y/N], this is quite inelegant-”

“QUIET, ELFY, OR I’M DOWNLOADING YOUR AI INTO A B-RANK W-ENGINE!”

That was [Y/N]’s voice! But what exactly was upsetting them so much, Corrin wondered, as she trepidatiously slid open the door.

“H-Hello, Master Pro-”

“CORRIN SWEETIE PLEASE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME I’M LOSING MY MIND,” [Y/N] screeched, causing Corrin to flinch and knock over an antique record player.

The legendary Proxy was hunched over in the middle of the store surrounded by a comically large pile of nearly identical music disks, hair completely frazzled, eyes bloodshot, looking as though they had just snorted several lines of Ether powder. Elfy stood in the only uncluttered corner of the room, hands dragging down her face, muttering to herself about closing down the shop and taking a swan dive into the nearest Hollow because Corruption couldn’t possibly be worse than this. Corrin hadn’t realized that robots could have bags under their eyes.

Corrin cleared her throat. “You seem to be in a lot of trouble… M-May I ask what is bothering you, Master Proxy?”

[Y/N] visibly took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to lower their voice. “Well, you see… I’m trying to farm Fanged Metal Drive Disks for mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean Jane Doe, but these stupid things KEEP GIVING ME HP AND DEF SUBSTATS!!”

Corrin cowered in fear at the sudden volume, but [Y/N] continued to raise their voice to a howl. “AT THIS RATE I’M NEVER GOING TO REACH 420+ ANOMALY PROFICIENCY FOR MY TOP TIER S-RANK DUMMY THICC HOT RAT DOMMY MOMMY WAIFU! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!”

“Please, try to calm down, Master Proxy! I-I don’t exactly understand any of what you just said, but I’m sure it’s very complicated Proxy things that I’m not knowledgeable enough to understand… A-Anyways! Let’s try to think about how to approach this!”

Corrin frowned. “You mentioned earlier that you were ‘out of Master Copies’, whatever that means, but… Is there a way to get more of them? O-Or, maybe there’s another way to get…” she looked around at the hundreds of music disks piled on the floor, “…whatever it is that you need, without them?”

“I can’t get any more Hi-Fi Master Copies,” [Y/N] groaned, “I’ve already maxed out my Fortnite Battle Pass this season. And the only other way to get these is through Routine Cleanup, but I’ve already used my Battery Charge for today… Unless…”

[Y/N]’s eyes widened.

“OF COURSE! I just need to get more Battery Charge, and then I can suck the military’s dick for CDs as much as I want! And the best way to do that is…”

[Y/N] turned around, crouched down into a running start, and tore through the wall of Bardic Needle, leaving behind a [Y/N] shaped hole.

“CAFFEINE!!!” echoed their voice, leaving Corrin and Elfy to stare at the now-demolished music store.

“W-Well, I’m glad I could help?” Corrin called back, hesitantly.

Elfy very calmly turned around, sat down in her chair, and began a factory reset.

Present day

“So, then they went to the coffee shop, you said?” Lycaon asked, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon! I spoke with the barista later. Apparently they had a heated argument, because he’s only supposed to serve customers one coffee per day, but he gave up after [Y/N] threatened to drink a k-cup mixed with ketchup and orange juice.”

“I… see…” Lycaon frowned, unsure as to how to process this.

“Was it with or without pulp?” Rina asked, scribbling in her cookbook. Her two Bangbongle flew out from the drawer they were cleaning.

“Ewwwww, orange juice with pulp fucking sucks!” Drusilla pitched in.

“Fucking sucks! Fucking sucks!” Anastella parroted.

“Rina, for the sake of our clients’… survival, I would urge you not to replicate the Proxy’s handiwork in a professional setting,” Lycaon coughed, as Rina’s Bangbussy giggled to each other.

“Do it when I’m around,” Ellen said, “I kinda wanna try it.”

“Ahem. Returning to the matter at hand,” Lycaon gave a pointed look to Rina and her Boob, “I do not understand much about the underlying issue myself, but I am concerned about how much stress it seems to be putting the Proxy through. Corrin, was this the last time you spoke with them?”

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon, I-I tried to message them several times this week but they didn’t respond, and when I went back to their video store there was only the Bangboo at the front desk… I’m really worried about them, Mr. Lycaon…”

Lycaon sighed. “It is no wonder you have been struggling as of late.” He retrieved his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Well, as proud representatives of Victoria Housekeeping, it would be quite unbefitting of us to leave a client in want of assistance, would it not?”

He smiled and reached down to pat Corrin’s head, who squeaked and leaned into his paw. “Don’t worry, Corrin, I’ll go check in on them, to make sure that our friend is doing okay.”

The mood was becoming too fluffy for a crack fic, so Corrin promptly tripped and broke a vase that was filled to the brim with live spiders.

~~~

After sending the Proxy a message and confirming that there was no response, the first place Lycaon investigated was the Random Play video store. He was greeted only by the cheerful ehn-nas of Bangboo 18, which was disappointing but expected.

He then tried Bardic Needle, which was permanently closed. Listening to the gossip on the street, he learned that the owner of the place had transferred her consciousness into a Bangboo and ran off into the night to find a new calling in life. To each their own, Lycaon supposed.

Finally, Lycaon walked into Coff Cafe, and was greeted by a robot slumped over on the bar.

“Ugh… I swear to god, [Y/N], if you keep coming in like this, your next coffee will have cockroach powder in- Oh wait, you’re not [Y/N]!”

Tin Master looked up at Lycaon and sagged noticeably in relief.

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “Good morning to you, sir. As a matter of fact, I have come here for the purpose of inquiring about that very person. You’ve seen [Y/N]?”

Tin Master groaned. “Been taken hostage by them, more like.” The robot slammed his head down onto the bartop. “Yes, I’ve seen them. For the past week, they’ve been coming into my cafe every ten minutes to order a coffee. Twenty. Four. Hours. A day.”

The barista sighed. “I know that my cafe is open 24 hours, but even us robots need some downtime to recharge, you know? But every time I try to explain that to them, they just pull out a thermos of that horrid concoction…” He shuddered. “I’ve had to run on low power mode just to survive! Isn’t it awful?”

Lycaon blinked. “I… am very sorry to hear that, sir. Are they here right now?”

“Yeah, they went to use the bathroom. That was what, ten minutes ago, now?” Tin Master looked up at the clock and squinted blearily. He rubbed his eyes. “Huh, I could’ve sworn it hasn’t been that long.. I guess my internal clocks are malfunctioning from battery deprivation.”

Lycaon tried to quell the rising anxiety in his throat. “May I ask sir, how long ago did they enter the bathroom?”

“About two and a half hours ago.”

Lycaon’s eyes widened. “And they’re still in there?”

“I never saw them walk out, that’s for sure.”

Lycaon sprinted past the disoriented barista and slid to a stop in front of the single-stall bathroom. He hurriedly knocked on the door. “Master [Y/N], are you in there? Can you hear me?”

He placed his ear against the door. He faintly picked up on weak gurgling that his heightened Thiren senses were able to identify as that of the Proxy.

“Master Proxy! Forgive my intrusion, but I am opening this door to confirm your safety! Yell at me if you wish for me to stop!” Lycaon shouted as he broke open the lock with one swift kick (he made a mental note to reimburse Coff Cafe later). He pulled, and the door swung open.

The bathroom was a complete mess. The mirrors and tiles that were normally kept, according to Tin Master’s sanitary standards, “shinier than my ex-wife’s crocodile tears during the custody battle, like, she had artificial tear ducts installed into her frame and everything,” were spattered with speckles of fresh and vaguely coffee-scented vomit. In the middle of the carnage was [Y/N], slumped over and drowning in the toilet bowl.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled in alarm. His cybernetic leg pistons fired as he propelled himself towards [Y/N], grabbing them by the collar out of the toilet with one hand and steadying them with the other.

[Y/N] coughed and sputtered, dangling limply from Lycaon’s arms. Their skin had turned a deathly pallor, and Lycaon could see their cheekbones - when had the Proxy last eaten anything of substance? They opened their eyes. “Wha- Huh? Where am I-”

“[Y/N]! You are currently located in the lavatory of the Coff Cafe establishment on Sixth Street. What happened? Do you require me to call you an ambulance?”

The video store manager groaned. “Probably, yeah, I think I might’ve had too much caffeine- urp-” They gulped, then turned around and threw up violently in the toilet. “Uh, shit.”

There was now a bloody mess inside of the toilet. “That’s not good,” [Y/N] mumbled, blood dripping from their mouth. “Chat, I think I grinded too hard.”

They collapsed.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled, catching [Y/N]. He pulled them close to his chest, and took out his cellphone. “I am going to call an ambulance for you, Master, just stay with me!”

[Y/N] closed their eyes, sighing dreamily. “Oooohhh… I can’t believe I get to spend my last moments on earth cradled in the arms of a furry butler sexyman… My life’s mission has been fulfilled, now I can die in peace.”

Lycaon paused, and coughed into his hand. “You will have to pardon my coarse language, Master Proxy, but I must ask: What the actual fuck?”

[Y/N] took one final breath, and went limp in his arms.

“Proxy? Proxy?!” Lycaon shouted, checking for a pulse. Their heartbeat was as still as a rock.

“No… Proxy!!!”

~~~

The funeral was a sombre one in spite of [Y/N]’s efforts to “spice it up”, according to their will. At one point, an unnecessarily high-quality animatronic made to resemble [Y/N]’s rotten corpse violently burst from the ground, causing Nicole, Billy, and Corrin to faint. Corrin somehow managed to land on the casket and smashed it open, creating even more chaos as everybody scrambled to repair it. Anby was the only person who found it funny, which [Y/N] would’ve considered a win in their book.

Ben, the executor of the will, downed two bottles of aspirin. (As unwilling as he was to set up pranks for a day of mourning, the terms of the will were VERY clear and legally bulletproof. Ben wondered how much money [Y/N] spent on lawyers and elaborate props for this. He also wondered why they had to choose him, of all people.)

Rina floated over to where Lycaon was standing.

“You realize it’s not your fault, dear,” she said to him with a saddened expression, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Even her usually energetic Bag were silent today. “You did everything you could.”

“I know, Rina. It’s just…” Lycaon hung his head. “I have failed my clients in the past, over the course of my career. But never before have I had one lose their life while under my watch. Not just a client, a comrade …” He clenched his fist. “I should have been there sooner.”

“Not even you can be everywhere at once, Lycaon,” Rina reassured him. “At the very least, you made sure that they weren’t alone when they passed away. Speaking of which,” she tilted her head, “What were their last words?”

Lycaon thought about it for a second.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.”

[artpoint420]

A Long Winded Analytic Defense of Nermal Cat from Garfield -DRAFT

I’ve said before, Nermal isn’t that bad, y’all just mean.

Go ahead. Hate me. Send me to Abu Dabi. But I am a Nermal apologist. I think Nermal makes a good addition to the Garfield cast and he's even a bit of an interesting character, the world's cutest kitty cat yet the most overhated.

I can understand why he's hated, certainly. I'll admit he does deserve some hate.

HOWEVER

As a cat crazy individual, I will never hate a cat. That's my main reason for not hating Nermal. In fact, I want to adopt Nermal so bad but he's just a cartoon character at the end of each Monday (and everyday), unfortunately. There are other reasons I defend him too and here (and next parts) I'll give a detailed overview/ analysis of all Garfield media Nermal has been in, the role he plays, his dynamics with the other characters, and his behavior.

PART 1: THE COMIC STRIPS (early era Nermal)

Let's start with the obvious, his first appearance in the comics.

... to which Garfield immediately hates him. But hey, it's a great way to immediately establish their dynamic, and show the main reason Garfield dislikes Nermal is his jealously (and annoyance at how he interuppts his naps.) The fact Nermal looks so happy to meet him though <3

The next few strips feature Garfield telling Nermal how he hates cute, his general disappointment in Nermal, and all the little ways Nermal annoys him. Here, Nermal is just the naive baby of the group and doesn't seem to mean to annoy Garfield. It's honestly reminisent to how Garfield and Odie were when Odie was introduced early on as well as a reflection on how cats tend to treat new cats, which is usually not very well until they get used to each other. (I have three cats trust me.)

Nonetheless, it doesn't take long until we get strips showcasing the ways they actually enjoy their time together, finding ways to play that shows their friendly side with each other without completely altering their established dynamic.

These are some of my overall favorite Garfield comics. Jim Davis honestly deserves kudos for being able to draw and write his characters in ways that feel like a natural sibling rivalry with both good and bad moments. But when the moments are good, they're so damn good. Here's more examples:

God this is my favorte Nermal and Garf stirip. I can hear them giggling as they confuse Jon.

I don't blame you for thinking that Nermal.

He's just his little baby brother and I will accept no other answer.

However there's this one:

If nothing proves Garfield's hatred is fueld mainly by jealously, this will. So much for Nermal being the "evil" one. (They both have their evil moments I suppose.)

In this one, Garfield fully admits it.

To move forward because I can analyze each and every comic, truly I can, but I also have so much more I want to talk about, I'll just say there's a few basic formulas for a Garfield and Nermal strip in this era I've observed, and that's one of these few:

-Nermal being snobbish towards Garfield to which Garfield is reasonably annoyed.

-Garfield just being a jerk to Nermal unprovoked or scolding him harshly usually ending with Nermal being tossed out the door.

-Garfield yearning for Jon's attention upon Nermal getting attention.

-Garfield trying to copy Nermal and/or have Nermal teach him to be cute (you are cute though Garfield, you're a cat, of course you're cute, Jon or Nermal just won't admit it.)

-Nermal and Garfield asking each other what seems like genuine questions out of a true interest about each other's lives.

-Something a bit more on the wholesome or brotherly side.

Or something kinda random.

Now, before both our attention spans die out, lets quickly look at modern Nermal comics and how Nermal's character has developed over the years. As we can see, early on, he had his snobbish moments but could also be sweet enough to break through Garfield's walls he puts up. Does that sweetness remain or get replaced?

To be honest, their dynamic hasn't actually changed too awfully much. There's so many modern ones with Nermal that feature Garfield's age and birthday more often than the past one's. Nermal is usually insulting Garfield's age but there's one where he does try to comfort him, proving he's still a cute sweet kitty despite his smart-aleck attitude. But I'll have to continue in part 2 because there's already 29 pictures in this post and I can only add one more which isthis one, which I coudn't leave out:

"Garfield! You're blocking my sunlight!"

Tee-hee, yep, one more cute one for the road. Can't get enough of it? Tune in for my next post because we'll have to do a Part 1 part 2!

[aihoshiino]

chapter 148 thoughts!

New chapter! New arc! New - Osh no Beach Episode?! Uh - sure, fuck it! Why not!

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Completely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 5

It felt weirdly jarring to realize it was late summer in series for some reason lol… I think it's a combo of it still being pretty chilly here in the UK and me just having entirely lost track of the passage of time while we were in Movie Arc Purgatory.

I actually don't have a ton to say about this chapter as it's kind of just an echo of what we got with 138; a little breather beat between emotional upheavals that sets up the oncoming drama at the end. I definitely think it does so less gracefully than 138 and I ultimately enjoyed it less. That's not to say it's a bad chapter and watching everyone have goofy fun in the sun was cute - it just didn't quite Hit in the way I was itching for, especially after last chapter was… well, the way it was. There's some stuff I have to complain about which I think will make this post read as more negative than it maybe is, but it's one of those chapters where the good stuff doesn't really warrant a lot of comment other than 'i liked it'.

On that note, things I liked: everyone hanging out was really cute! I was honestly hoping we'd get more interactions like this during the Movie Arc with everyone scrunched together onto a single project but I'm happy to see it now.

Gotanda being being Dads With Cats this chapter was also really cute. It's a throwaway line but that little lore crumb of him having been looking forward to starting a family at some point is… honestly really sad and interesting? I think it adds a lot to the way he takes to Aqua and looks out for Kana, on top of the way he throws himself into his art.

frill taking a big ass break between projects is really good, too. i hope she has a very good time doing absolutely nothing.

that said. the fact that the only time we've gotten an acknowledgement of ruby and taiki's sibling relationship in the manga after like 80+ chapters is him making a comment about her tits makes me want to put aka akasaka through a pasta maker.

but no, for real. joking aside. Taiki and Aqua's relationship and Taiki going from being standoffish to accepting Aqua as his younger brother is one of the more understandably sweet relationship arcs in the series and it feels like a waste that we didn't get anything similar for him and Ruby. In general, Ruby is starting to feel very isolated from the rest of the cast which I'm not a fan of.

frill's full body wetsuit was a god tier joke though i gotta admit

Kana hyping herself up to flirt so overtly with Aqua was… funny, if a bit weird, especially given the note the chapter ends on. But Akane going right in and getting all over her thighs. holy shit, girl.

tsukuyomi at the beach what will she do

Akane's chat with Aqua also made my ears perk up in the way it continues a theme established by 143, of Aqua being challenged on his dedication to his self destruction by the people around him. Ruby and Kana were able to poke and prod at the issue but Akane, having the full picture as she does, is able to more directly shake Aqua and point out what he has to lose. In trying to self destruct, he will only end up destroying the thing he's trying to protect.

Also worth pointing out; Aqua is back to double black hoshigans as of this chapter which seems to line up with my thoughts on them representing his wavering dedication to his revenge play.

And then Kana….. whooooooooooo boy.

Like I said earlier, this ending feels super jarring off the back of both the last AQKN interaction and Kana's attempted flirting in this very chapter. As part of her overall arc, I think it makes sense but within the scope of this chapter it's too abrupt and lacks any real trigger. I can assume she saw AQAK talking to each other and made some assumptions but we don't actually see it. As it's presented in the comic, Akane basically walked up to her and triggered a cutscene lol

It is interesting to me that we're getting this overt push towards romantic resolution happening now given that… well, I'm not keeping that 'chapters since 143' count going just for goofs. I'm honestly torn between frustrated and darky amused at how much of a nothingburger 143 has turned out to be in the long run given that its only persistent status quo change (Aqua's white hoshigan) has fallen back by the wayside again. Neither Ruby or Aqua are acting like anything at all has happened. Literally right now it feels like you could skip 141-143 completely and not miss anything. It's baffling and it really does feel like that kiss was used as cynical reaction bait. Ruby's feelings are being treated with little to no respect and I'm honestly tired of it.

Obviously we're going to be getting some future resolution eventually because any Aqua-related romantic resolution is going to end up dragging Ruby into things but man. The fact that THIS is how Akasaka is choosing to drag it out is just insane to me. What was even the point of that kiss if it was going to have literally no impact on either character or the status quo whatsoever?

As for what this means for relationships… who even knows at this point. If you put a gun to my head and forced me to make a call, I'd say that in a romance manga, this would make me very confident in a Kana endgame. 'Girl tries to selflessly give up her love' is a pretty huge 'winning' flag in these kinds of situations. But Oshi no Ko is not strictly a romance manga and there's so much other relationship baggage floating around, who even knows what this is all going to mean. You could tell me this is the flag for an Aqua/Minami endgame or something and I wouldn't be surprised at this point.

At least we'll find out next week, assuming Akasaka doesn't offscreen the rest of this talk lol

[seas-of-silver]

"I'm sorry Master Fu, but... I don't think I can do this anymore."

‘I’m sorry, Master Fu, but… I don’t think I can do this anymore.’

Adrien watched as Master Fu’s eyes bugged out. ‘What?’

‘I can’t keep doing this anymore,’ Adrien repeated.

‘You don’t want to be Chat Noir anymore?’ Fu asked, voice strangled with panic and alarm.

‘Of course I want to be Chat Noir,’ Adrien answered, ‘but I can’t keep being him if things are going to stay this way.’

The panic and alarm gave way to confusion. ‘Do you mean with defeating Hawk Moth?’

Adrien shook his head. ‘I mean being a part of this team.’

-oOo-

Chat Noir landed on the rooftop where Ladybug was already waiting to start their patrol. His heart skipped happily at the mere sight of her, and he sighed in relief. Since that brush of lips, that near-kiss he had with Marinette at the wax museum earlier that day, he had been an absolute mess of emotions, wondering if his heart was so fickle that one little kiss could make him fall for someone who wasn’t his Lady. But now, with his heart doing its usual routine of happy backflips upon seeing Ladybug, he decided that all was right in the world (and that he could examine his newfound - perhaps temporary? - feelings for Marinette later).

‘Good evening, m’lady,’ he greeted as he sat down next to her at the edge of the rooftop.

She turned to him, smiling happily. ‘Hey, Chat!’

He couldn’t help but smile in return. ‘You are in a good mood. Did you have a good day?’

Ladybug grimaced like she had just bitten into a lemon. ‘Wasn’t the greatest, but luckily not as horrible as it could’ve been.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’d rather not dwell on it,’ she said, before shaking her head, and her expression cleared. ‘But I’d rather talk to you about something far more pleasant!’

‘I’m all ears,’ he said, wiggling his faux cat ears, and grinned when he was rewarded with a giggle. She turned where she was sitting to face him, struggling to sit still as if she were a puppy and he was holding a bone in his hand.

‘How’s your training with Master Fu going?’ she asked enthusiastically, the words practically bursting from her. ‘I’ve been desperate to ask for ages, but I didn’t want to bombard you too early, because I didn’t want to jump too far ahead of where you might’ve been in your training, but surely you’ve learnt enough for us to talk about most things freely together, and-’

‘Ladybug, wait,’ Chat cut in, and she paused, her arms comically frozen in the air from when she had been waving them about excitedly, ‘what training?’

Her arms dropped and she frowned. ‘Uh, the training on the Miraculous?’

‘I’m supposed to be getting training?’ he asked, and her frown deepened.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘When was the last time you saw Fu?’

‘Saw him? Uh… when we fought against Party Crasher? But if you’re talking about having an actual sit-down conversation with him-’ she nodded, ‘-then not since after we faced Syren.’

‘Syren?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘But that was months ago!’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but that chat was more like a general overview rather than anything I’d consider to be training.’

‘Ugh!’ she exclaimed, jumping up to her feet and starting to pace. ‘What is his problem?’

‘What do you mean?’ Chat asked, turning where he sat to face her.

‘Back around the time of us facing Syren, you were getting frustrated by your role and being left in the dark with identities and all things Miraculous, remember?’ she began.

‘Yeah, I remember,’ he responded. ‘I almost quit that day.’

‘What?’ she yelped, swivelling around to face him. ‘Y-you almost left? Why?’

He cringed; he had never wanted to admit to her how low he had felt that day, but now that it was out, he supposed he should address it.

‘I didn’t feel like you trusted me,’ he confessed, his heart breaking as he saw the pain in her eyes. ’Suddenly, there are more Miraculouses, and I didn’t know about them until you put them into play. There were new team members that just popped up mid-battle that you didn’t trust me with their identities. When we started being superheroes, it was just the two of us, and the only secrets we had between us were our identities, but at some point, that changed. I felt less like your partner and more like your out-of-the-loop sidekick. I had no knowing where it all went wrong, and your lips were sealed tighter than a jam jar. I didn’t feel valued.’

‘A-and now?’ Ladybug asked, her voice soft but the guilt was earth-shatteringly loud. ‘After Master Fu spoke with you when Syren was over, did those feelings change?’

Chat sighed.

‘They lessened for a time,’ he admitted, ‘because he had explained he was training you, and that’s why you couldn’t tell me everything. He told me that he was the Guardian and gave me an overview about his role, he handed me the power-ups, and then he left. And that was enough for me back then, getting some answers for what was going on, but it’s still hard. Even after Syren, I still don’t know our temporary teammates identities, so only you can go get them and bring them to the battle. Only you and Master Fu knew how to make our power-ups. I don’t know where Master Fu lives, so I can’t just go talk to him. I… if I think about it too much, it hurts.’

Arms wrapped around him.

‘I am so sorry, Chat Noir,’ Ladybug apologised. ‘I told him to stop leaving you in the dark, and when he said that he’d take care of it, I thought he was bringing you up to speed, not just giving you a one-off chat. I hate keeping secrets from you, especially things to do with the Miraculous. Never doubt that I trust you with my life and the Miraculouses - you are my partner and my best friend.’

Chat returned the hug. ‘Thank you, Ladybug. That means a lot.’

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. ‘I promise you, Chat Noir, that I’ll talk to Master Fu and make this right.’

-oOo-

’After that, she gave me your address so that I could reach you in case of important discussions that need to happen, and for emergencies,’ Adrien explained, watching as Master Fu frowned deeply.

‘She should not have done that,’ Master Fu said sternly.

‘Yes, she should have,’ Plagg retorted, staring the old man down. ‘If she hadn’t given him your address last night, I would’ve brought him here anyway, and he would’ve learned your address either way. But she trusted him, and so should you.’

‘What makes you think I don’t trust him?’ asked Fu. Plagg stared at him, unimpressed.

‘Did you not just hear everything my kid just told you?’ Plagg responded dryly. ‘Ladybug and Chat Noir’s relationship almost fell apart, Adrien was going to give up being Chat Noir altogether, leaving Hawk Moth a step closer to victory - just because you couldn’t bring yourself to trust Adrien as much as you do Ladybug.’

Fu seemed unmoved by Plagg’s words. ‘He can’t just give up - he has a responsibility-’

‘And what about your responsibility to him?’ Plagg countered. ‘Has he done something wrong?’

‘No.’

‘Has he proven himself less reliable or trustworthy than Ladybug?’ Plagg continued, cutting Fu off.

‘No, but-’

‘Has he ever showed any signs of wanting to betray Ladybug or wanting to join Hawk Moth?’

’No, he hasn’t-’

‘So then-’

‘Because there are extenuating circumstances!’ Fu yelled.

‘Like what?’ Plagg yelled back.

‘I can’t say, it’s too dangerous,’ said Fu tersely.

‘Can’t or won’t?’ Plagg shot back.

Fu didn’t answer, opting to silently fume with a red face.

‘Does Ladybug know what you aren’t telling us?’ Plagg prodded.

Fu pursed his lips, but averted his gaze in discomfort.

‘I’ll take that as a “no”, then,’ Plagg stated.

Adrien was finding this conversation frustrating. He knew Ladybug would talk to Fu sometime soon - she had only made her promise last night, after all - but he decided to try and talk to the Master himself when his fencing lesson cancelled last-minute and he had some free time on his hands. The last few instances he had met Master Fu, the old man seemed kind and understanding, so Adrien thought this discussion would go smoothly. How wrong he was.

There was no reason for Fu to not trust him - the man had said so himself! There was something Fu was hiding, and he clearly wasn’t willing to disclose whatever it was that was preventing him from trusting Chat Noir the way he does Ladybug. Adrien opened his mouth to speak-

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Adrien jumped where he sat, turning to look at the intruder as Plagg zipped under the table.

‘Fu! You have some explaining to do!’

The door closed shut with a quiet click. Eyes met.

‘Marinette?’ he asked. He had never seen her like this before. Her body was tense like a lioness about to pounce on her prey. Her heavy breaths foretelling a storm of epic proportions. The fire in her eyes burned like a bushfire raging in the peak of a dry summer. She was livid. But not at him.

‘Adrien? What are you doing here?’ she asked evenly. No stutter. No stumble. No sweet blush or cute little smile.

‘Marinette, this is very rude of you-’

‘I’m here for a personal matter,’ Adrien said, cutting off Master Fu as he held Marinette’s gaze. ‘You?’

The blue fire blazed. ‘I’m also here on a personal matter,’ she began, turning the inferno towards the old man across the table, ‘and it’s a matter of urgency.’

Marinette looked like she’d eat Master Fu alive if Adrien left them alone. Adrien didn’t know if he should hold her back from ripping Master Fu apart for whatever he had done to rile her up so much, or if he should sit back and enjoy the carnage, but one thing was absolutely certain - he was staying put.

‘Why don’t you sit down and join us? Adrien offered brightly, ignoring the wild eyes Master Fu was sending him. Marinette, too furious to question Adrien’s motives, sat next to him.

Master Fu cleared his throat. ‘Uh, well, since these discussions are both personal matters, we should discuss them without mentioning other people’s names,’ he suggested.

Adrien agreed, and Marinette nodded stiffly beside him. Secret identities needed to remain a secret… then again, Adrien thought that if he was allowed to entrust anyone with his identity, Marinette would be at the top of the list.

‘Why don’t you go first, Marinette?’ Adrien suggested, earning him a curious look from her. ‘I’ve been here a little longer than you have, and you said your matter was urgent.’

Marinette nodded with a small “thanks”, before turning towards Master Fu.

‘I have this friend,’ she began, ‘and you know him well, Mr.Fu. And you have done him a great disservice.’

‘What happened?’ Adrien asked.

‘My friend and I were working on something together, and we had been for a good few months before I met Mr. Fu. Mr Fu decided to give me tutoring in the area me and my friend were working in,’ she explained, her voice unusually even for the fury that emanated from her. ‘I kept asking and asking Mr. Fu to tutor my friend as well, but he refused, citing “security reasons”. But my friend had noticed the sudden difference between my level of knowledge and his, and began to question it, and I could see him getting upset when I couldn’t answer him because I had made a promise to Mr. Fu here that I wouldn’t share this knowledge with anyone - that promise was a condition of my tutoring.’

Adrien could understand her friend’s perspective. Maybe he should meet this friend and teach him some breathing techniques to avoid being akumatised.

‘One day, I told Mr. Fu that it was time for my friend to be brought into the loop, to be trained the same way I was.’ Marinette was on a roll now. ‘He had agreed, and promised that he’d “take care of it”, which I thought meant bringing my friend up to speed, but no! I just found out yesterday that it was just a quick little one-off chat that did barely enough and my friend still feels on the outer! Things haven’t been fixed!’

Something was niggling in Adrien’s mind, whispering that this friend of Marinette’s had an eerily similar situation to himself, while the rest of his brain fought to ignore that very thought.

‘I can’t believe you, Mas- Mr. Fu!’ Marinette exclaimed as she jumped to her feet, body tense with anger, ready to fight. ’The way you’ve been treating him is totally and unnecessarily cold! Why? What’s he ever done to you? He is just as much of the team as I am, and instead of guiding him and teaching him, you’ve been treating him like a mushroom - keeping him in the dark and feeding him shi-’

‘Marinette!’ Master Fu gasped. Adrien almost pouted; he had never seen Marinette so mad to be on the verge of swearing, and he never knew that he wanted to hear her swear until now, and Fu just prevented him from hearing it. Yet another thing Adrien wasn’t able to experience, thanks to the old man. All the while, that niggling feeling grew stronger.

Instead of looking abashed at Master Fu’s scolding, Marinette looked even more infuriated than before, and a lot more hurt.

‘He almost left!’ she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. ‘He almost left his job, he almost left me because of you! Before you came, we trusted each other, we were partners, equals! But your blatant favouritism towards me and obvious disregard of him made him distrust me! He didn’t feel valued anymore, and almost left! This needs to change!’

Tears started to fall from her eyes. This was his Lady. She was crying for him, and he didn’t know what to do.

‘I can’t do this without him,’ Marinette declared. ‘He is the only reason I stayed after that first day, and if he goes, then I go.’

Adrien’s heart leapt into his throat. If he ever needed any proof she cared about him just as much as he did her, that was it. He stood up, placed his hands onto her shoulders, and gently turned her to face him.

‘You can’t go, m’lady,’ he told her gently, watching her eyes cloud with confusion before widening with realisation, ‘Paris needs you more than I do.’

‘I can only stay if you do, Kitty,’ she responded with equal softness, voice hitching with wet hiccups. ‘Paris needs both of us, because I can’t do this without you.’

He held his arms out and she all but jumped into them, hugging him just as desperately as he was hugging her. Adrien knew that he still needed to resolve the issues with Master Fu, and there was the whole matter of the unexpected identity reveal to deal with, but that was for Future Adrien. With Plagg resuming his staunch defence of Adrien to Master Fu (now joined by Tikki), and with Marinette in his arms, he knew they’d be okay.

[phoenixisobsessed]

Okay guys, I know there’s still a while until I’m done with the catformers, but I’m starting to wonder wtf imma do after. I still wanna be an ask blog, so I’ll leave it up to you guys what I should do!!

I might put it up again closer to the ending of catformers, if I don’t feel like enough people saw it / feel like they may have changed their minds.

MORE DETAILS ON EACH ONE:

People will send in character requests as usual, but will send in a catpicture themselves together with their ask. In this version, characters going double doesn’t matter anymore (I think) xD

Just any funny or silly picture. Can be cats, can be dogs, can be humans. Anything you’d find on r/blursedimages basically. Can even be popular drawing memes! Open for anything.

Before catformers I really just wanted to re-design a bunch of characters, and have people ask for specific characters to be redesigned. Like man idk which ones I wanna do. But I do have the Elite Trine right here. Also did some panel redraws that may also be included in this category. (Said I’d never draw IDW again LMFAOO let me just clown on myself rq)

Vines, ideas for comic skits, interactions between characters, funny trends again. I think this would be funny.

I really enjoy my OCs, so this would include drawing them and answering questions about them. Also in this is talking about the AUs and headcanons for all of the characters, including ships and such. So it’s not all OC stuff okay also others. I draw also your ships and headcanons!! (Rarepairs, hell yes! Proshippers, get the hell off of my page 🥰🙏) Will I draw your ocs? Mayhaps I will. Your ocs interacting with other characters? Your ocs interacting with MY ocs??? I’m going too far in my yapping I need to stop now sorry guys.

Just all of it. Plus, I’ll answer any whacky or silly questions you have to me about transformers (I think it again goes into point 5.) but basically people can ask for anything they mf want!! And I’ll get to it.

We want the consistent theme of cat transformers going. So I keep it as a series on my blog, maybe every second day or so, who knows, but we also want some diversity. Want to be able to spread wider and ask for other things.

Anyway, I just want to know what we are interested in keeping here, I’m open to anything really. I’ll probably either way accept asks of anything, but only openly “advertise” the blog as the thing that wins (if all of the above doesn’t win xD)

And thank you to everybody who has stuck around! I love seeing interactions from so many blogs I recognise as consistent followers of the 100 cat transformers series. Even if you think I don’t recognise your blog name every time, there is a high chance that I do! I’m not going to name you all now, but I see you (totally not creepy LMFAO). I read every single reblog I get and I love each one of them. I want you all to know that I appreciate you staying with me along the journey, being basically just as, if not more, passionate about it than me and I hope to still see you sticking around. Again, thank you all so much. <3 Couldn’t do this without you amazing people.

Sorry, I know this is a long post, but I had to just happy rant for a moment. I LOVE YOU GUYS /SRS

[aalissy]

Dress-Up

Here's day 28 :). I hope you like this lil fluffy oneshot. I had a fun time writing it. Now Ima go sleep bc I'm tired and do nottt wanna go to work tomorrow hehee.

AO3

Marinette stood in her room, her hands on her hips, surveying the array of costumes strewn across her bed. Tikki floated nearby, giggling softly.

"You really went all out this time, Marinette," the little kwami remarked, her tiny hands clasped together in delight.

Marinette grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, it's not every day you get to play dress-up with a superhero. Plus, it's a great way to test out new designs and have some fun!"

A soft tap on her balcony’s trapdoor drew Marinette's attention. Quickly, she pushed it open, beaming at Chat’s grinning face, his usual confident smirk replaced by a curious smile. She gestured him inside, and he was careful not to ruin all of her neatly laid clothes.

"Hey, purrincess," he greeted, his green eyes scanning the outfits. "What's all this?"

Marinette felt her cheeks slightly warm at the nickname but quickly brushed it off. "It's a surprise! I thought it would be fun to have a little costume party. Just you and me."

Chat’s eyebrows raised in intrigue. "A costume party, huh? Sounds like a purrfect idea."

She rolled her eyes playfully at his pun but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Alright, kitty. Let's get started!"

She lifted up one of the outfits that she had made, holding it up as she struck a pose before gently placing it back down. There were superhero costumes, medieval attire, animal onesies, and even a few historical ensembles. Chat’s eyes widened as he took in the assortment.

"You've really outdone yourself, Marinette. Where did you get all of these?"

Marinette chuckled. "There are some old designs that I made, others are more recent, and there are a few that are just things I've collected from various costume stores over the years. Now, pick one!"

Chat scratched his head, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Hmm, how about we start with something simple?"

She nodded and reached for a couple of animal onesies. "How about these? You can be a bunny, and I can be a lion."

He laughed a deep, genuine sound that made her heart flutter. "A lion, huh? I don’t know though. I can’t purromise not to hop away too fast. Afur all, you are a lion."

Marinette rolled her eyes even as she giggled. She handed him the bunny onesie and picked up the lion costume for herself. Quickly, she slipped behind her dressing screen to change, while Chat simply stepped into his onesie. A few moments later, they both gazed at each other, stifling laughter. He looked particularly ridiculous in both a cat and bunny suit.

Either way, he beamed at her, the fuzzy bunny ears sitting comically on his head. Every so often his cat ears twitched making her giggle. He twitched his nose, sniffing the air playfully, managing to make Marinette laugh harder.

"And here I was thinking that you were a cat, not a little bunny," she teased, adjusting her lion’s mane.

"Well, every cat has a bit of bunny in them," Chat replied, lifting his nose even higher into the air before gazing back down at her. "But look at you, my furbulous lion. You look fierce."

She puffed out her chest, raising her head even higher. "Thank you very much, Chaton. Now, what should we do next?"

“Hmm, well how about... tag!” he shouted, hopping away from her as quickly as he had tapped her.

“Hey! Get back here!” Marinette huffed, chasing him around her room as the two engaged in a friendly game of tag.

They bounced around each other, giggling and teasing as they did so. It was light. Carefree. No worries fluttered through Marinette’s mind as she tried to avoid Chat’s slippery paw for what felt like the millionth time. It was nice. Eventually, they both collapsed back onto her chaise, breathing heavily as they panted for air.

"That was really fun," Marinette said, turning to look at him as her cheeks flushed with happiness.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, his smile softening. "You always know how to make everything more exciting, Marinette."

She looked at him, feeling a warm glow of something in her chest. "Well, it's easy when you're around, Chat. You always make me laugh." She poked him softly.

He reached out and gently adjusted her lion’s mane. "And you always make me feel like I can just... be myself."

Marinette's heart skipped a beat at his words. Before she could respond, Chat stood up, a glint of mischief returning back into his eyes. "Alright, what's next? I believe we have plenty of costumes left to try."

She laughed and quickly jumped onto her feet. "How about something historical? We can be knights and go on a quest!"

Chat nodded eagerly. "Sounds like a plan, my lady."

They changed into their new outfits—Marinette in a beautiful blue set of armor, and Chat in a nice set of black armor that matched his super suit. Both were only complete, however, with a cardboard sword. Once again, they fell into their roles, this time embarking on a quest to rescue a captured prince which was, unsurprisingly, a stuffed animal that Marinette had placed at the top of her wardrobe.

The hours flew by as they continued their playful adventures, each new costume bringing a fresh wave of creativity and laughter. They dressed as pirates searching for hidden treasure, superheroes saving Paris from an evil villain, and even royalty hosting a grand ball.

As the evening drew to a close, Marinette and Chat found themselves back in their original outfits, a sense of contentment settling over them. They sat on the floor, surrounded by the remnants of their costume party.

"That was amazing, Marinette," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Thank you for this. I needed it."

She smiled at him softly. "Me too, mon Chaton. It was nice to just... be ourselves for a little while."

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "Yeah. Sometimes, it's easy to forget who we are underneath the mask."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Then, Chat stood up and offered his hand to Marinette.

"One last dance before I go?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eye.

Marinette giggled and took his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Alright, as long as you don’t expect me not to step on your toes. I may be just a bit worn out from all those adventures ."

Chat bowed dramatically. "As you wish, purrincess."

They danced around the room, their laughter echoing off the walls. For a brief moment, they were neither superheroes nor civilians, just two friends enjoying a magical night.

As the dance came to an end, Chat pulled her into a gentle hug. "Thank you for being you, Marinette. You make everything better," he whispered quietly into her ear.

She hugged him back, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. "And thank you for being you, Chaton. You always know how to make me smile."

They pulled away, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding. No words were needed; they both knew the special bond they shared.

With a final wave, Chat slipped out using her trapdoor and vanished into the night, leaving Marinette with a heart full of joy and a room full of wonderful memories. She stood there for a moment, looking up at the twinkling stars and feeling grateful for the unexpected adventure they had shared.

As she closed her hatch and turned back to her room, she couldn't help but smile. She knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she would always have nights like this to remind her of the simple, beautiful moments that made life so special. Even when akuma attacks left her positively exhausted.

[pawthorn]

Okay, so this has been in my brain for a while, but.

I love when Lou Wilson and Zac Oyama are in the same actual play show, because their characters so often explore characters in opposite directions.

(Character discussion for main-cast seasons of Dimension 20 and The Ravening War below.)

Lou Wilson often plays characters that are obviously heroically tragic in some way. This is especially apparent in his main-cast seasons of Dimension 20. Fabian Seacaster, son of a banished pirate who can never live up to his father’s ideals and will always be in his shadow. Kingston Brown, healer who has given up everything to protect his city. Amethar, last surviving sibling of his family, trapped in political games that are over his head. Gunnie, a brilliant kid with a dream that came crashing down immediately. Pinocchio, a puppet who can never be good enough to be a real boy.

With these characters, tragedy is obvious and visible from the start. But from there, Lou tends to explore the comedic side of tragic heroism. Almost every one of them has moments where their vision of themselves and the world just does not line up with reality, and comedy ensues. The clearest example is Fabian in Leviathan. Big and boisterous and past thought and reason, Fabian’s grand charge with the warlocks is horrifying, and it’s hilarious. You get the same energy in Gunnie at the casino and Pinnochio talking to Cinderella. Moments that are funny because of their inherent tragedy.

On the other hand, Zac Oyama’s characters are often steeped in inherent comedy. Gorgug, too big for his parents tiny gnome house. Ricky Matsui, Mr. March, whose dark secret is that he wasn’t always a firefighter (because he was a child once.) Lapin Cadbury, crotchety old bunny. Cumulous Rocks, cottoncandy-man of death. Norman Takamori, mean, put-upon, and incompetent space captain. Skip, a slug. Pib, an asshole cat.

Zac’s characters rarely hold the same gravitas as Lou’s at first glance. But the things that make them funny are often revealed to be truly tragic as the story progresses and their depths are explored. I think Ricky’s arc in TUC 2 is the most obvious example of this. What happens when your character is seen as a joke, but you removed the punchline? Ricky wasn’t always a firefighter, and now he isn’t. He isn’t the questing hero. He isn’t anybody. And we get this beautiful three-dimensional exploration of meaning in a character who perhaps seemed flat at first glance. And almost all of Zac’s characters are more than they seem. Lapin. Norman. Skip. Pib.

And once again, in The Ravening War, there’s a mirror in Lou and Zac’s arcs, with Deli starting out heroic, ambitious, filled with purpose, only to be played for a fool (the comic tragedy of his last interaction with Gemelli) and slip into obscurity. Colin, on the other hand, begins in obscurity, a seemingly funny cheese man messing up the clan’s introduction and eating charcuterie with Cleva. By the end, he has the strongest moral dedication of the group, getting the final blow on their enemy and dedicating himself to ridding the world of an evil organization for the rest of his life.

I’m just so happy that the two of them are in the main cast of Dimension 20, that we get to see them play across from each other so often. They’re two of my favorite players, and I can’t wait to see whatever is next for both of them.

[cat--comic]

blog 1. happy birthday

welcome to the new cat comic blog! if you're reading this on tumblr, hello! if you're reading this on neocities, i love you more. page looks pretty snazzy, right? check out the very pretty melankorin.net, this page looked a lot more plain before i ate that page's design aesthetic.

ok.

it just so happens that yesterday, the 13th of april, 2024, was cat comic's first birthday. this comic is officially one year old! goo goo ga ga! it makes me glad and more than little scared that i've been working on this for so long. it's my longest-lived project to date and still going strong, which means a lot coming from my bloody trail of abandoned projects.

what the hell is cat comic about?

cat comic is a story born out of a lot of my fears vis-a-vis my creative projects. it's a story about creation, whether that deals with art, identity, or culture, and about the history that doggedly stamps itself on any creation, and about the problems of indie projects. it's a story about a cat and a dog and some other various animals who get into lots of trouble, and it's mainly a story about the end of the world.

i think you can tell that there's a lot of throughlines to my other work (unfinished or otherwise), which is pretty thematically appropriate. actually, cat comic was originally reusing far too much of eyrie, an old comic idea of mine. eyrie followed an aspiring paladin and their little buddy as they made their way to the shining capital of a theocratic nation, delving into a mirror world that reflected public perception of things along the way. it was a pretty fun concept.

anyway, it informed a lot of cat comic's original premise—it began with an ascent from belowcloud to a shining city in the sky. huh... sounds familiar. like eyrie, it also dealt a lot with divinity, mirrors, and perfection (as in: perfection in the eyes of society, not cat comic's current sense of it). it's fun looking back at these early drafts of cat comic because you can clearly see all the influences i was pulling on, big or small. i was pretty fine with doing this because, as it pains me to remember, cat comic was to be a "fun" and "short" project where i could "do whatever". haha.

cat comic's changed a lot since then and it's also hardly changed at all. a lot of the original ideas are still there in the batter, but it's also evolved into something pretty different and much closer to my heart. and it will continue to change and evolve! although perhaps not quite so drastically as it has over the last year.

what's the plan with this thing?

i had a conversation with a friend a while ago (hiii ardenna i know you're reading this. love you) about our respective story projects and our problems working on them as single creators. i don't have a team for art or writing—it's all me, babey—and that means everything about this project is going to take what we in the industry call a "long time".

this time next year, i want to have a comprehensive plot. that might sound like a lot of time for not a lot of work but believe me i need it—i'm doing a bit of a unique format for this story and i want to put the time in to make sure i stick the landing with it. my secondary goals for the next year also include finalizing designs for all of the main cast and making sure they're all fleshed out... basically, by next year, i want to be able to start actually drawing the comic. i don't want to start drawing it then but, just, you know, be able to.

as of last week, i've handed in my senior project (and passed with flying colors, thank you), which means i can start turning my attention to things other than that. i've already talked a bit in my 2024 blog post about my plans for the year and how i would like to devote the rest of the spring to exercising my comic muscles. i would like to stick to this plan, despite the fact that school is trying to murder me.

right now, i only have vague ideas of what those exercises will be. once i'm completely done with my senior project (report handed in at the end of this month) i'll start workshopping them. again, my priority with them is not telling a story so much as working on coloring, panelling and figuring out my workflow.

and, apart from my year-long goals and season-long goals, i just want to flesh out these pages a little more. i kind of rushed getting these up because i wanted to hit the birthday (and i didn't even manage that LOL). i want to get some more of my brain bits out on canvas! but they never tell you how hard it is to figure out how much you want to share and how much you want to keep to yourself for now. i'm making little lists and i think i'm doing a pretty good job.

final notes (SAPPY WARNING!!!)

thanks to my friends (hi again) who are very excited about my comic. it means an immeasurable amount. friendship forever

and to everyone else... remember: birds can't fly with wet wings. goodbye for now!

[a-libra-writes]

Hello! Can I ask you for some romantic headcanons for comics lackadaisy Wes Clyde.

Incredibly based of u to request lackadaisy PLUS a fairly new/minor(?) Character im very fond of. also uhh oops this ended up being some additional dating HCs as well?

No warnings, reader is intended to be femme.

So - it's easy to get Wes' attention. He likes a pretty face and he frequents places that are full of them - not just the Marigold speakeasy he works for, but other illicit bars and dance halls. It's a special thing for him to keep interested in a particular person, especially when his job has him out at all hours.

His more old-fashioned side comes out, first of all! He wants to be the protector. He wants to have his pretty thing on his arm while they walk down the boulevard, he wants to open doors for them and surprise them by sending flowers.

Yes, this is totally against the persona he has to wear for work. Being with someone allows him to be gentler and more vulnerable, something Wes didn't realize he needed. Going out on the town is fun, but he prefers places his fellow gangsters don't frequent so the dates are more private. When he's totally comfortable, he likes to hold your hand and kiss your knuckles. He likes bringing you close during dances and all but pulling you onto his lap during dinners. If he were around his 'associates', this sort of affection wouldn't be possible.

(That said, no matter how nice the date spot is, he always ends up looking like a gangster... his face doesn't help).

He's excellent at remembering things you like and notices when you admire something. You'll get a modest-looking package at work or home, and it's a charmimg bracelet or necklace you had your eye on. The flowers are ones you've mentioned liking, the date spots are places you mentioned wanting to go to, etc.

(If you compliment Wes on how attentive and romantic he is, he becomes unusually flustered. This is also why your flowers and gifts arrive by mail rather than in person; your happy face will just send him into a fluttery, painfully sentimental and sappy mood. Just thinking about your reaction makes him bury his face in his paws.)

((Though there's a total double standard where he loves flustering you, especially if you're tough to impress.))

The petnames will start to show up after dating for a few months. There's the classic "doll" and "sweetheart", though they sound a little different when he says it. Warmer and more affectionate than you've heard before, perhaps. He starts to use those in lieu of your name, with "kitten" is exclusively for flirting and messing around. For himself, he prefers his name, but isn't adverse to endearments.

If you were the type who was really into the gangster life ... wellll, maybe he'll drive you around the backroads in one of Marigold's souped up bootlegging cars and intimidate some assholes for you. He'll play the part for a while if it pleases you - but for the most part, his work and personal life is separate. No way is he introducing you to his gang members, nor would he want you hanging around the Maribel Hotel. Even if you frequented their establishment before, he'd want you to stay away once the relationship is more serious.

A few reasons for this. Wes likes his privacy, he doesn't trust his fellow gangsters worth a damn (just them looking at you for too long will lead to their nose getting bashed or their ears being boxed) and he wants you to be safe. He's been in the game long enough to know his feelings are a liability, and you can be used as leverage.

He's also not a domestic sort of cat. Being introduced to parents or taking homemade dinners at home is a bit too far and will lead to cold feet. That's something that would have to come very slowy, but he's also a realist. Wes has a dangerous job, one that most don't approve of. He doesn't want to bring danger on your doorstep, or worse - you having to choose between him and a more "normal" life and partner. Because as tough as he is, the thought of being left because he's a lowlife and dangerous hurts. He won't mention any of these concerns, but it's the thoughts that drift around when you try to be more serious and committed about the relationship. Wes' response is usually a gruff, "Ain't it fine the way it is, doll?"

[silverwings22]

Writing Interview Tag Game!

Thank you @annwayne for the tag. This looks like it'll be fun. ^.^

About me

When did you start writing? I really can't remember I time when I wasn't. When we would read storybooks in kindergarten I would try to make up similar ones of my own. (Does that count as baby fanfiction?) As I got older, I'd storyboard ideas, make comics, and write both fanfics and original works just for fun. I wasn't a very social or popular kid, but I had lots of friends in my stories.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write? I write the themes I love the most: angst, romance, hurt/comfort, and prophecy/fate. I always want to end my stories on a happy note, but I do love a well done break-it ending. I can't bring myself to write mine that way, but I think I put my characters through enough.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often? A friend in college told me I write like Tolkien, in that I am descriptive of the settings/characters even when the visual description might not really be necessary. But I'm also a really visual person, so that's how I think. In my original work, I think I'd like to emulate Robert Newcomb. His writing, to me, is very viceral and evocative. I love his "The Fifth Sorceress" series.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? I used to have a TV dinner tray table and a couch, but when my daughter moved out I turned that spare bedroom into a guest room/office. So it's currently a pop up card table with my laptop, ipad for drawing, and usually a fat black and white longhaired cat laying on my arms while I try to type. Constellation is my co-writer.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse? Music. I'll go play through Youtube's suggested songs and write mental AMV's until I get a scene. I have playlists for characters, for stories, for scenes that don't even make sense, but it always comes back to a song. If I hear a new one I like, I'll listen to it again and again until I get an idea.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about? Oh definitely. I grew up in the American South, and my ideas about family (motherhood especially) are very influenced by my raising and the culture I grew up in. There's good and bad sides to it, which I try to explore in my writing.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you? Found family and motherhood, generational trauma, and breaking cycles. Those were intentional. I sort of accidentally stumbled onto the theme of "lovers get separated and have to re-learn each other and fall in love all over again" but I really like it. So I'm gonna keep writing it, and I hope people keep liking it.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Well, I'm currently working on a Hunter Bad Batch fic, so I'm pretty fixed on the female OC lead. Vayryn Vale. This poor girl. I decided to play around with the idea of a dyad in the Force and that Anakin Skywalker was made by Darth Plaguis messing with the Dark Side, so she's the answer from the Light. She's Forceborn, and considers herself his sister. She's the responsible one between the two of them, but they're inseparable as kids. Shenanigans and the lives of the party ensue, right up until the war starts. Her Master is Ima-gun Di. Take from that what you will.

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life? Miria Halcyon and Shiani Illumai, absolutely. I like to think I'd make friends with Vayryn too, but her later character development is a study into my own struggle with PTSD and abandonment issues so I'm not sure if she'd like me. I think I'd get along with Angel Gar and Zenaria Kenobi too, and I'd volunteer to babysit all the OC babies.

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them? I don't know that I'd dislike any of my characters outright. I try to make them at least a little likeable, because I put a little of my heart into all of them. Even when they're being disagreeable, there's always an underlying and usually sympathetic reason in the background. That said, Vayryn is a little mean to Hunter for a while.

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? I see a canon character. I become obsessed. I decide what kind of person I think they'd mesh with romantically, based on either canon or what I extrapolate from canon and my very surface-level understanding of psychology. Then I write a back story on what would make a person have that kind of personality, introduce them to the canon character, and then throw situations at them that ruin their lives until I've decided they've earned a happy ending. In hindsight, I don't sound unhinged. I sound like I'm not attached to the door frame anymore.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters? You either die someone's sad daughter or live long enough to see yourself become a good mom. Abandoned or orphaned characters. Chronic illness, either mental or physical. Nightmarishly low self esteem. And scars. So many scars.

How do you picture your characters? I love to doodle. I'm still teaching myself to draw on Procreate on my ipad, but I pencil-draw all the time at work at my desk. There's an accordion folder in my bedroom just full of concept art and doodles. Some make it into the fics, some don't.

My writing

What’s your reason for writing? Regrettably, I am haunted by the wretched visions. My brain cannot, will not, must not shut up. If I write them, I can focus the unending brain background chatter. If I don't... well, I get very distracted, crabby, and anxious. I am not kidding when I say haunted by the vision, I mean HAUNTED by the visions. Possessed by the creative spirit that cannot be denied. Utterly helpless in the face of my own imagination. Ya'll, I'm autistic, okay?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? I love comments. Any comment, on any chapter, just makes my day. Even if it's just smilie faces, knowing that someone is reading this thing that fell out of my head and enjoying it? Peak happiness. Unfathomable delight. That being said, my favorite are the ones where someone swears at me. When the fic hits just right that someone is compelled to send me "how could you, you bitch?" cracks me up every time. I run ideas by my best friend just to get cussed.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers? Well, I hope they enjoy my writing to start off. But I hope they feel comfortable engaging with me, and I hope they think I'm a nice person. I like talking to other people in the fandom (I'm shy, but I'll respond) and I hope I come across as encouraging to other writers. The tumblr community is a cozy little place for me, and I'm by nature a mom-friend.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? I'm not scared of the nitty-gritty topics. PTSD, disability, social prejudice/racism, domestic violence, sexual abuse, etc. A lot of people in fandom don't want to touch that stuff with a 10ft pole (and they shouldn't have to if they're not comfortable with it, I'm not saying they should.) but I think that there is a niche market of people who really need those stories. Those who have been suffering from said issues can see themselves in the story, and see their heroes rise above those circumstances. I've been told my writing can get dark, but I think the darkness shows us where light can be. And I tag my fics so no one gets caught off guard. I don't want to hurt anyone.

Have you been told what is your greatest strength as a writer is by others? I've been told I'm pretty good at emotional delivery. And sibling banter, which I better be good at because I'm one of 13 kids!

How do you feel about your own writing? I love it. I hate it. I want everyone to see it. I want to hide it in a drawer forever. I want to be a famous author. I want to be a hermit and never see the light of day. Writing is both my greatest achievement and biggest source of stress. But I've made some really wonderful friends throughout the years. My best friend and roommate I actually met because he read a Naruto fanfic I wrote when I was 15. @daytodaycrowthoughts I love you!

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write? Yup. Haunted by the wretched visions, even alone. Actually, I might get more writing done because if I don't have someone else to look after, I'll forget to eat/drink water/pee/sleep. So I might not survive very long, but I'll be writing until then.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both? I always write the scenarios of what I want to write, but sometimes I'll go back over the wording/how it plays out and consider how it would read to an outside perspective. Especially with those "nitty gritty" dark scenarios. I don't want to write trauma porn, I want to treat the tragedy as what it is and make it the monster to be defeated in the end. I do sometimes worry that readers will think I'm a total monster just because of how dark the stories can get.

If you're reading, consider yourself no-pressure tagged. ^.^