Show of hands: who here has read “The Worst Best Christmas Pageant Ever” by Barbara Robinson.
And who, as a consequence, leans over to a family member during the children’s choir’s christmas carol performance to comment that they sound like a closet full of mice, and see if they manage to keep a straight face?
[Astarion] is a cat. He's a black cat. There's a stray that comes into my house called Red... and he's quite feral. It took me three years before I could pick him up and hold him. He's totally cool with me now. Three fucking years. He gave me a lot of inspiration about Astarion.
- Neil Newbon, on developing Astarion's physicality and mannerisms
made a chart of the straw hats' skin tones with the colors being screencapped directly from the episodes, to show how much they've lightened.
this is more than just an "artstyle change" or "design evolution" or "just the timeskip" this is blatant racism/colorism. it's fucking ridiculous and i don't understand how toei is continuously getting away with it
please reblog btw, i think this is something people should see
sooo... @ranilla-bean wrote a fic The Iconoclast
beta read by @faux-fires
but before rana and i got to talk lots about sout eats asian clothing and khmer cuture and...
i stat down... drew the first one... and the other two. enojoy?
toji who grabs his little bunnie gf by the scuff of her tail to pull her onto him.
“bunny, come sit on it.”
“ouuuch ! toji, stop it! hurts..!”
“heh, sorry bunny. c’mere.”
it happens so quickly. you had just been sprawled across the sheets, playing on your phone before you were rudely interrupted by a desperate old man, in need of some assistance.
“sit on my cock, honey. w’na feel you.”
“y-you’re so crude , toji .” you frown, but in no way do you take your time tugging off his pants. his cock springs up almost immediately , the hard shaft slapping against his tummy causing a blunt noise.
“s’ hard toji . .”
your mouth waters at the sight, holding the fat girth in the small of your hand. your hands don’t fully wrap around him, nearly an inch left of cock that gapes in between your fingers. his digits reach to pull the crotch of your panties aside, quickly pulling you directly above him, making you hover over his cock head.
“mm,” he hums, “don’t make me do it all , work yourself on it doll.” he teases, coming up to tug at your fluffy ear.
“s-stop it !” you whine, making him laugh. it’s hard to work him with no prep, the sloppy tip of his cock immediately stretching the fat folds of your cunt. it burns , but you’re soothed over by the sweet circles rubbed into your skin to pace you.
“t-too hard, why’re s’hard . . mmf—“
“y’were swayin’ yer ass all over the place. how could i not be, bunny? don’t be so naive.” he grunts, watching intently as his pudgy tip slides in and out of your chubby walls.
“i wasn’t, toji ! y-you’re such a perv!”
he laughs breathily , hoisting you above his cock before slamming you down completely. you scream and thrash at the unpreparing stretch, round tail fluttering as hairs on your fluffy ears stand.
“oh, bun.”
his fingers sneak behind your butt to fidget and tug on the fur of your tail once again, but this time, you’re too lost in a haze to pay it any mind,
[ID: fist image: a digital drawing of a black fur ball with tiny triangular legs, triangle kitty ears, one cat eye in the middle of it’s face and a small tail.
second image: the same creature as described before drawn with pencil, there are five of them, in the upper left corner it is yawning, showing off the sharp cat teeth it has, in the upper right corner it is looking up, looking interested, in the middle it has a “smiling” eye, lower left corner it’s playing with a yarn ball, pupil dilated, lower right corner it is sleeping, curled up, eye closed. end of ID]
my favourite thing about chuuya nakahara is that he's just kind of. chill. about everything. he's like, my tragic backstory has no hold on me, i went to therapy and i'm all good now. i'm a bad guy cuz it pays good and my found family happens to be here. what do you mean that's not a good reason, you a cop or something?
someone will betray him and he'll go ok well that's pretty upsetting. they probably had a good reason though. i'll forgive them if they let me get a good punch in. if they're really just a hater they're giving me bad vibes and i don't wanna deal with 'em at all tbh.
things have been done to him that would warrant a lifelong crusade of revenge for anyone else, but for chuuya nakahara it's just, that was super not cool but i'll let it slide if you get therapy with me.
chuuya is down for any crime and thinks moral boundaries are for losers and stuff but he's the nicest guy in the port mafia when it comes to not mistreating his subordinates and probably helps old ladies cross the street. he shows up for a solid 10-20 minutes of screentime per season and makes all the fans fall in love with him while doing the bare minimum, and despite technically being a villain i don't think he's worked against the agency a single time (although to be fair this is often not on purpose). he also does the bare minimum every time he's asked to help in-universe and clearly isn't even trying, and he sweeps anyway because he is ridiculously overpowered and could probably kill literally everyone if he actually wanted to, and i just. no one is doing it like him. you go you unbothered king.
I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
The reporters are going wild. Another Wayne child! Another one! And he just walked right past the gala his father just went into!
They swarm the kid, asking over and over how it feels to be Bruce Wayne's love child, and finding out he has a whole second life full of money awaiting him!
Danny , dressed in a very expensive suit and successfully distracted from running away from Vlad (again),was very confused at first, then decided.
Hey.
Let's fuck around.
"Oh, what? No, I'm Bruce Wayne, and I'm far too young to have a child. What's that weird rectangle you keep putting in my face? Where am I? Why does everything look so different?"
What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.