#i've had this concept for so long

[canisalbus]

So i remember an ask mentioning your mortal enemy, Felis Atra and their cats, and i thought it'd be fun to draw what Felis Atra's version of your italian dogs would be.

I think they would be called Butter Knife and Flamengo! Butter Knife is not his real name, it's an nickname given by his peers because of how harmless he is. I choose Flamengo because that's the name of Vasco's rival football team here in Brazil, so i thought that was the perfect name :)

Cat Machete was slightly inspired by the Oriental Shorthair cat because of their long noses and thin head shape.

Cat Vasco was inspired by the Scottish Fold cat, because FLOPPY EARS. I gave Flamengo longer ears and orange fur to make him more like his look-alike.

The last doodle is a reference to this ask (https://canisalbus.tumblr.com/post/728923918314946560/me-i-am-machete-ear-fan-number-1-those-ears) and contains the tumblr ask stand-in dog, whose cat version was inspired by the American Curl cat! They have round ears that are slightly floppy outwards.

Final notes: I know cardinal clothes don't come in vibrant blue, but i was ADAMANT on switching Machete's and Vasco's clothing color patterns. I would draw the rest of Butter Knife's and Flamengo's clothes, but i suck at designing cool outfits.

Speaking of outfits, for Machete's iconic void outfit, i figured it would be fun to make it more baggy for Butter Knife, in contrast to Machete's, that looks very tight-fitted. I think it's cute, it kinda looks like a sweater. Also i can't imagine a Machete doppelganger without high heels boots, so those HAD to stay.

Oh, and just to be clear, i'm not like, claiming ownership of these guys or anything. I just thought it would be a fun exercise. Hope you like them!! I love your art and your characters.

.

[crow-caller]

I read a lot of YouTube comments, and I respond to a lot of them too. I don't know if this is... uncouth or whatever, but I do.

Sometimes, I get comments which are wrong. Sometimes they're abrasive. People who think trigger warnings are excessive, or that something I've called racist/ableist/antisemitic, Isn't. I do talk back to comments like this. And you know?

A Lot of the time, it works.

Most people who reply back consider what I say, and I've changed their minds. It's not that I'm some great writer, it's often that they are genuinely... confused.

A lot of people simply do not know Why trigger warnings matter, because their only context is mockery and extreme examples.

A lot of people don't know what institutional racism is. If you talk to people about things they don't understand, you won't have a scholarly debate— you'll have an argument where both sides thinks the other is an idiot. I had this recently.

I come at people with sympathy and then, gently, advise them. Do not talk to them like they're idiots or scum if you want to change anything. The above comment is saying "ableism isn't real", but what they unintentionally mean is "I don't know what ableism is so I don't think it's real." This is the case a lot of the time, because people's only context for what these terms mean is increasingly mockery, memes, and political ploys.

I was once a mod on the discord of a large gaming youtuber, a phenomenally half-toxic place— most regulars chill, most random lurkers posting the most atrocious memes and not getting why it was a problem. The head mod understood protecting lgbt+ people in the rules, but didn't Get nonbinary people — he was under the interpretation they were real, but the majority were attention seekers. He cited an account on tiktok, whose schtick was gathering and reacting to "blue hair pronouns" cringe. This was his only context beyond the moral instruction "our rules should protect lgbt+ people". He would have put that rule up either way, but only through discussing it did mods realize this was his opinion, and could explain why it was wrong.

I'm not advising everyone has to talk to everyone this way, I'm saying if you're going to engage, consider trying rather than venting.

[naomihatake]

A love so deep

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x GN!reader

Synopsis: He loves you so deeply it defies the forces of nature.

Content warnings: weapons, loyalty, maybe it's fluff?

Word count: a few hundred words

A/N: Zoro brainrot hours. I'm around episode 330 of one piece so I don't know for sure if he ever harms any of his crewmates with his sword, so for now this is just a headcanon. Take it as you will, dear readers

Zoro Roronoa is loyal. He's confident, despite the monsters hunting him sometimes, screaming in his nightmares that he's not strong enough, that he has to get stronger and stronger and stronger in order to protect his friends, his lover. If he can't protect the ones he cares for at least through actions — because he's never been a professional at verbally expressing himself — then what the fuck is he even doing?

His will is stronger than steel. Maybe it's tied to his stubborn nature, to the fact that once he wants to do something, there's no way to stop him. His will is the highest and strongest mountain you'll ever lay eyes on and you're either able to accept it or not.

He wants to protect the ones he holds dear to his heart. Out loud there are rare times when he admits such things, but he's proved it countless times. He'll say things with a specific nuance and only his friends would know the deep meaning behind his words.

His will are his swords. His stubbornness runs through the hilts and rests in his scabbards, it makes his katana shine each time he draws them out. He's poured his everything into these swords, even the overwhelming and undeniable love he has for you. Weapons, objects he always used to kill, blades that sparkle with the remnants of blood.

However, not even once did his sword cut through a friend, through you. Even his very body would be manipulated by some supernatural force, the blades would only graze the skin, would mold into your skin and still not break through. There would be marks, it would be obvious something happened, but your blood will never get on his swords.

Especially if you trust him, his abilities and his katana. They're like an extension of his very being, of his own soul. Even the blades recognise you, your haki, your energy. Even their sharpness softens at the contact of your skin and stops, refusing to hurt you, someone he loves so deeply he doesn't know for sure what path he'll take if something happens to you.

And he'd be damned if you're harmed by him. He would rather die one thousand times and run with bare feet through hell than be the one to inflict pain on you.

And he trusts you just the same way he trusts his own will. Whatever weapon you weild, whatever power has been bestowed to you by a Devil Fruit — none of those matter. Deep down, he knows you're not capable of harming him or your friends.

Because, at some point, an enemy you're fighting against might laugh hysterically about how "You'll bend to my will, Pirate Hunter".

Both of you know that no matter what, none of your wapons will ever be drowned in the other's blood. His sword would stop at the contact with your skin and your bullet would ricochet against his bare chest.

A love so deep it defies the forces of nature. The string of trust is thick and stronger than steel, just like his will and your own.

This connection between him and you won't appear out of the blue, but it will certainly grow steadily and once it does, it's unbreakable.

[kiitoskiitos]

main characters of a comic I'm hoping to dedicate a lot of my time to this year

[its-tea-time-darling]

nothing good is about to go down here babes...

part 2/? of babyboy's descent into madness (1, 3)

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

and I begin to bloom like a lotus flower once again the Agust D trilogy

[embbu]

You know Adaman and Melli from Pokémon? And you know the Zelda universe?

Okay, now hear me out--

[rragnaroks]

hello. it is i, your friendly neighbourhood goblin that pops up every now and then to scream about something new.

i love damien haas.

this has been a psa.

[thresholdbb]

Can we talk about The Dying Swan moment in Coda? As someone who was once a very serious ballerina, I need to talk about the Dying Swan. Here's your context --

CHAKOTAY: Harry's clarinet solo was okay. I could have done without Tuvok's reading of Vulcan poetry. But the highlight of the evening was definitely Kathryn Janeway portraying the Dying Swan. JANEWAY: I learned that dance when I was six years old. I assure you, it was the hit of the Beginning Ballet class.

Have you seen The Dying Swan? It is dramatic.

Here, take a minute:

First of all, this dance is much too advanced for a six-year-old, even if they’re doing it in demi pointe. (Six-year-olds emphatically should not be in pointe shoes btw.) The dance is almost entirely bourees and arm movements done to very subtle musical cues, not the foundational ballet moves typically taught in Beginning Ballet.

This is a very vulnerable, dramatic dance that is effective because of its subtleties. The performer would need to embody that vulnerability in some way for a convincing performance. It's short, but it's a solo piece -- all eyes on you. I mean, it was choreographed for a prima ballerina, BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT

Can you imagine our unflappable Captain Janeway willingly getting in front of her crew to do this ballet? I get that it’s thematically relevant to the plot of Coda, but since Janeway is only vulnerable in front of her crew when it means putting herself in harm’s way, it seems like a wild decision. She tends to hold herself apart from her crew, maintaining the professional distance of the captain. Further, when she does any creative pursuit, it is almost always in private, since her sister was the artist in the family and she was the scientist. As a captain, she commands Voyager in a much different way than she would as a dancer with this piece. I'm not saying she never shows vulnerability because she definitely does, but not necessarily in this way. Then when she talks about it with Chakotay, she just casually brushes it off with a laugh like no big deal.

There’s also the question of costume – would she have gone full tutu? Done it in her Starfleet uniform? An impeccable yet flow-y white suit? She does get into costume and command a performance in Bride of Chaotica!, but Coda is still kind of early days for our captain. Arachnia aligns more with what we know about Janeway's character.

Granted, it is Chakotay laying down these complements about her dancing ability and he is clearly biased. To be fair, Neelix does too before they leave in the shuttle. If she did this dance and performed it poorly or amazingly, I feel like the crew would look at her a bit differently afterwards.

Canonically she did The Dying Swan, but I certainly have trouble picturing it happening.

[sysig]

for requestober ! my heart's been aching for yanderapy for a while and i would like to get something about them :3 i don't have a specific prompt . i do like to see them more on the angsty-unhealthy-relationship side lol like some of the requests you made last year . overall , just seeing anything about them would be nice . X3

Day 1 - Sodium Chloride Couple

[bookshelf-in-progress]

There's always a danger of caring too much about a story, and then getting paralyzed by the need to do it justice, so it never gets written.

I've solved this problem in the past by writing stories so fast that I don't have time to get too invested, or writing stories that I'm not that attached to.

But maybe the trick is to love the story so much that I want to share it any way I can, even if it's imperfect. To feel that any version of this story is better than the story never getting written at all. To get out of my own way and stop worrying about what other people will think of my writing, or even what I think of my writing, and love the story for its own sake, love the readers enough to want to have the joy of sharing the story with them.

Maybe it'll work. Maybe it won't. But so far it feels like a much better approach.

[moe-broey]

I def wanna color these when I have the energy BUT..... back on a Pokemon kick.... ever so slightly......... also second sketch is so rough SORRY (I DO WANNA CLEAN IT UP!!! But I was mostly focused on conceptualizing the outfits!!!!)

I have soooo many other sketches too but I wanna save em for later.... but let it be known, this is just an elaborate excuse to play dress-up. Esp for Moe I'm gonna be so real, it has SUCH A SILLY OUTFIT and it is SO. SOOOOOO jackass rival coded. Guy who is gonna pick fights and cause problems for NO reason. Or for gay reasons. Most likely gay reasons tbh

[irondad-defensesquad]

The fall of Icarus

DO NOT REPOST!

P/roship DNI.

[hechose]

'lestat crossed an ocean to save claudia and louis from the paris coven!!!'

..... im gonna hold your hand while i bash you over the head when i tell you this,,, that mans went to paris to be healed by armand,,, that mans went to paris to punish the people he abused for daring to fight back,,,

[thr0wnawayy]

Writing Exercise: Invertia

Lavender rays snuck through the blinds of the Ninth's room.

The Ninth.

Izumi still had trouble processing that the events of the past semester were grounded in reality.

But the beating of her heart, the rising and falling of her chest as she slowly came into consciousness. It reminded her that she was alive, she was real.

The pink haired protege stiffly raised herself into a sitting position, her neck popped as she looked to her limited edition 'All Blight - Incinerator collab' calender that had been given to her by that overly cheery classmate, Shoto Himura.

It was the Sports Festival today. Well, fuck.

Izumi ripped of the bedsheets and trudged to to bathroom.

Her pink hair shot in every direction, one wiry eye peered behind the rats nest, glaring at itself like death.

Deku broke contact to grab a comb and try to fashion her hair into something salvageable.

Izumi hissed through her teeth as she realized her mental mistake. Nevertheless, she continued taming her hair.

Her mother was likely out of the house again. Not that Izumi minded, that was natural given her position as the head of a major lawfirm.

Izumi had been taught more than enough to survive on her own. Born in a time where Heroes were only just exploding onto the mainstream meant more risks of a break in.

Cooking, cleaning and self preservation were all skills Izumi had learned by age 9, such was the life of a middle class woman and her unexpected daughter.

Izumi snapped back to the present, finding that she had been on autopilot again and was now standing in the kitchen, fully dressed in a crimson "Woop Weep' band tee and black cargo pants.

Izumi grabbed the necessary items, looking out the window to see the familar crimson sky, perfectly clear. Izumi knew she had plenty of time, maintaining a perfect schedule and living in Musutafu helped with that.

As the pot began to boil and the soba lay in wait, Izumi found her thoughts returning to the subject of her "friends".

Izumi never really had friends, so she didn't know if Shoto, Uraraka or Ida counted.

Shoto was the latest addition. Completely the opposite of what one would expect from Incinerator's son. The number 2 was as unwavering and intense as the Black-Fire she weilded. Shoto was, well, Shoto. Talkative and energetic, a boy who could see a butterfly pass by and have a million questions.

Ida was more in-line with what Izumi had come to expect from a Legacy kid, although Ida's 'devil may care' attitude to most things was something Izumi could appreciate. The ginger haired delinquent seemed to take things in stride, though she supposes coming from a long line of Villains will do that to you.

Uraraka was the most mysterious for Izumi, the one code she couldn't crack.

Izumi was blunt, she spoke her mind and gave no quarter. Uraraka's tounge was barbed and honeyed. She had a way to get you hooked on whatever she was offering.

Thats how Izumi wound up agreeing to train her in hand to hand combat. Techniques she had spent years honing on bullies, earning her 10 suspensions by the time she was in 6th grade (all off record of course, lawyer mom)

The lid rumbles. Izumi listlessly places the soba strands in.

As she waits for breakfast, She looks at this little bobble head her mother had bought her as a gag gift a few years ago. A very familair face stares back at her.

"Toroshinori..." Izumi answers to the open air.

She still remembers that day on the roof. Izumi had clung to the 'Blight of villainy' himself, and she knew they'd tear her apart if they ever found out what she'd shouted at him.

"Why do the bad ones always become heroes!?"

Izumi had been tired, the world's worst manipulator had told her to kill herself. Her mother had been overworked and every day it seemed like another so-called "hero" forgot what side of the law they stood on.

She'd almost opened the door to the stairwell when he spoke.

He'd poofed in a cloud of smoke, the smell of ash filling the air. The man who restored order, was laid bare in front of her. A man who despite hardship after hardship, kept on going.

They hadn't realized the stairwell door had locked until that point, trapped up there until All Blight could recharge.

He gave her his story and Izumi gave hers. Two souls, hurt by the world and looking to reshape itm

He said that he "liked her moxie" and offered to keep on touch. Who was Izumi to refuse?

Izumi looked up at the oven clock, right on time. She turned off the heat, strained the soba and grabbed her seasoning.

By this point it was automatic. Izumi knew just the way she liked her Soba, what techniques and intracies. The craftsmanship of a homemade meal was simply enjoyable to her.

Izumi ate, enjoying the serine silence of the house. Absorbing it, because the Sports Festival was going to be louder than Tear Lord's charity guitar tours.

And just like that Izumi felt her mood sour again. She was going to have to deal with those idiots again. Most of her classmates were alright, but then there were those.

Kaminari was the textbook definition of a misogynist. Constantly trying to mask it through a false veneer of chivalry. Mineta, the paranoid, who was more than likely going to go on a killing spree sometime in the future.

And then of course, Bakugo. The leech of U.Gen, constantly riding on the coat-tails of everyone else. Thinking he's playing 4d chess with his "rumors" when it's little more that locker room gossip.

He is simply repungent.

Izumi shrugs it off as she grabs her supplies. 'Eh, he'll probably have a breakdown the moment he washes out'.

U.Gen was no joke, failing here meant expulsion, effectively immediately. Only the top 50 would go on to the next semester and the only reason she knew that was thanks to Toshinori's messages, which she always appreciated.

The decision came into place following the Ice Hero: Endeavor's, forced retirement. No one knows exactly what happend, Shoto seems to buffer whenever she asks. But the bottom line was Endeavor shouldn't have gotten through at all.

Since then, U.Gen has had two major exams in the first year. Each at the end of the semester. The first, the SF, was meant to weed out incapable or/and unresouceful heroes. The schematics on the next one are vaug, but Izumi knew it had something to do with one's character.

-And would you look at that, she's already in the train. She really needs to stop getting lost in her own head, it's not beneficial.

The tram was packed, no suprise there. Mostly with people either going to work or going to have fun.

What else are they gonna go to? With her to the Sports Festival? That hasn't been open to the public since Izumi was a toddler.

Izumi snorted at the mental image of her in a TerraRiser onesie, complete with the black cape.

The speaker dinged, letting her know that her station was coming up. The concrete practically shifted beneath her feet as she leapt out the tram car.

It didn't take Izumi long to find the bus, Her English Teacher: Silencer mutely greeting her with a soft smile and a head nod, miming tapping a watch to tell her that it was time to haul ass.

It wasn't much different to one's that sent them to the DWJ, it was kind of nostalgic. Even if it relatively recent. Izumi took in a deep breath of filtered air as the bus began to move.

Showtime.

_______________________________________

Kamino Ward District.

The Drousy Djin Diner.

Thunk, Thunk, Thunk

Gloved fingers met the screen of a TouchPad.

Thunk, Thunk, Thunk.

Eerie bright blue eyes pwwred from behind Reddish-Brown locks. The Sports Festival was today...

A black haired girl twirled a clearly stolen pistol in her hand, her expression bored as sin.

A white haired vigilante postured with his back against the wall, waiting for his partner in business and crime to speak.

A dead man watches eagerly from behind the counter. His body as youthful as the day he "died".

The Brunette shifts upright, all eyes suddenly on him. He grins.

"Who's ready to make their mark?"

[drones-of-innocence]

I've always wanted to entertain a universe where Princess Peach was not familiar at all with romance.

She would go through her life being raised on political philosophy and the understanding that she would one day be responsible for the people of the Mushroom Kingdom, her teachings are very strict and single-minded in the effort to make her an effective ruler. This turns her into an incredibly driven and kind woman who is primarily concerned with her citizen's security and happiness. The fairytale land of the Mushroom Kingdom emphasized a culture of love, certainly, but it was a love for all living creatures. Romance exists, but it was not part of the mainstream of ideas.

Her interests did not include fantasy or fiction. Even when offered by her guardians and retainers, she would decline and opt instead for denser, brainier, more intensive material. The concept of romance simply never came across her horizon.

Until she gets kidnapped, and a stranger arrives to save her.

This man is strong, stronger than the King of the Darklands. Strong enough to rescue her. He is humble and sweet, and he has the most earnest blue eyes she's ever seen. He is charming without meaning to be, content with the simple things in life, and her heart appears to do a little something every time he smiles bashfully at her attempts to thank him for his heroic deeds. He has dimples in his cheeks. Mario, he is called. Thinking of his name causes a most peculiar rush in her chest. She sometimes likes to murmur it to herself when no one is around, but she couldn't say why.

"It is love," those close to her tried to explain. But she didn't understand.

She discovers her grand library's fiction section. She pores over romantic tales, particularly those regarding a princess and her knight in shining armor. Meanwhile, she observes that her face becomes quite warm when Mario is around, and that she tends to ramble or stammer nervously when she is ordinarily so clear and concise. She has not had any practice disguising such feelings. They come off as quite obvious to any onlooker.

Mario is not presumptuous, however, and though he finds himself nursing his own romantic feelings for Princess Peach, he would never dare assume someone of his station would be worthy of her. Still, many point out her obvious flustered demeanor and clear affection for him. He had already dedicated himself to many acts of service for her, but he begins to bring her small gifts as well. Interesting findings, secret tokens, tiny treasures from his journeys. Small wonders of the amazing world he'd come to love living in, and tiny, heartfelt creations.

Pressure grows from those around them who can see they clearly have feelings for each other. When the time comes, Peach sits, meekly admiring a flower he had offered her as they sit on a grassy hill under the starlight. She explains that she believes she likes him, but admits that she does not understand very much about the nature of her feelings or of romance in general. She's a little frightened; her daydreams and wistful yearning have distracted her from her duties at times, and she becomes overwhelmed in his presence. She wishes to understand it all better, but she doesn't know where to begin.

Mario, surprised and flattered by the news, puts his hand over hers and tells her that he is willing to help her explore her feelings and make better sense of them. He can teach her; he's been a hopeless romantic for as long as he could remember.

And he loves her. He's more than willing to take this journey with her.

Flirting, dates, kissing. All of these are foreign concepts to Peach and she frets that she's very far behind and that she'll do it all wrong. But Mario soothes her and tells her it all comes with time. He won't push her into anything she isn't ready for, though he does purposefully tease and gently flirt with her just to see her blush and smile. Over time, she is able to reciprocate.

He invites her out to classic dates and more unique ones. Garden strolls, picnics, or trips to find the best view of the sunset. He continues to bring her gifts, and rescues her from Bowser all without any expectations that she return the sentiment.

She learns. She finds or creates gifts, and arranges dates to surprise him. Her heart feels full whenever she sees his eyes light up with genuine surprise and awe. She learns that he quite appreciates physical touch, and makes sure to reach for him often. Touching his arm, finding any reason to hug him, and offering a modest kiss on the cheek upon being rescued. He also finds great comfort and solace in words of affirmation, reminding him that she sincerely enjoys his company and finds him to be very cute. She loves how he blushes.

One night, after a date he put a lot of work into arranging, Peach expresses her gratitude for his effort, and tells him that she thinks she would like to kiss him. Blinking, Mario finds himself endeared to her shy and slightly clumsy request. He approaches her with his familiar soft manner.

"Close your eyes," he says with that bashful smile, and she does.

He kisses her forehead. His hands gingerly rest on her face, and she lets out a shaky breath. "Is this okay?" he asks, and she nods. He kisses her temple, and then her cheek. His mustache tickles. Her entire body feels like it's buzzing.

He pauses, his thumb stroking her face, before he tilts his head to kiss her on the lips.

She melts. It's tender and sweet. All the stories she had read emphasized the importance of a first kiss, and his delicate manner was better than anything she could have imagined. He pulls away, his eyes shining under the starlight, only for her to seize his hands.

"I want you to kiss me again," she says.

He smiles, and he does.