Ideas For A MP100 X JJK Crossover

stupid ballpoint sketch🥴

I really wanted to know why Oda and Toei changed Ace's old actor and yassified him, so I made an edit with his old design (maintaining its striking physical characteristics), because I really like crack Ace of Alabasta

Well, well, well. Guess who fell into the new gay pirates fandom? And guess who finished OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH and was immediately like, “I gotta find some fic to read to fill the void.” Despite that I swore up and down I wasn’t going to get drawn into another new fandom, five minutes after the final episode, I was opening up AO3 and clicking away like my life depended on it. I thought it’d just be a fun, silly show to watch in between more serious ones! Just some cute pirate antics with some nice queer rep! Sure, maybe some heavier stuff might happen, but it was ultimately a silly pirates show and I wasn’t going to have real feelin– OH NO NOW I’M HIP DEEP IN FEELINGS AND I AM MAKING IT EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM WITH ME. Because if fic is going to make me cry and/or laugh through my tears, I’m not suffering that alone. So, here, read a bunch of fic with me. OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH FIC RECS: ✦ He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by AuntieClimactic, ed/stede, NSFW, 14.4k    “Here we go again,” he heard Lucius scream over Izzy’s furious cursing. ✦ and he doesn’t mind the (ooh) by thatbug, ed/stede & cast, NSFW, 5.4k    As a curious man, Captain Stede Bonnet determines that he should learn more about the great piratical pastime of buggery. Edward Teach is surprisingly unwilling to discuss. In which it’s much harder than Stede would expect to convince Blackbeard to fuck him up the ass. ✦ do no harm, take no shit by holsmi, ed/stede & mary & cast, 2.1k    Mary Bonnet receives some uninvited guests. ✦ The Biblical Sense by Fyre, ed/stede, NSFW, 2.5k    Ed’s eyes creased around the edges. Smiling. One could always tell by them, even if his beard and moustache and everything else hid his mouth. “I know you’re a bit new to the whole… seaman thing,” he said with that rumble of amusement in his voice, “but I thought even you’d recognise a come on when you saw one.” ✦ echo your name (call it love) by treescape, ed/stede, 1.6k    Or, Stede realizes he’s maybe, possibly started calling Ed rather revealing things. ✦ Beyond Vanity by reserve, ed/stede, 2.3k    After Izzy leaves, and Stede gets patched up, Ed uses the bathtub for something other than a nervous breakdown. ✦ Hold me deep beneath your waves by makesometime, ed/stede, NSFW, 1.2k    “Would you believe…” Stede breathes, voice shaky in that way that Ed’s come to learn means he’s excited, but like, in a nervous way. “That I’ve never done… this… before?” ✦ this is not your grave, get out by morian, ed & lucius (& ed/stede & black pete/lucius), 10k    Or: Lucius survives. For better or for worse. ✦ Break down, it’s alright by rowenablade, ed/stede, NSFW, 3.2k    “Stede.” Ed’s voice breaks, dragging Stede’s eyes back up from where they’ve been staring at the floor in shame. “Please.” ✦ you reached out your hand to me by holsmi, ed/stede, 4.1k    Stede Bonnet sneaks onboard the Revenge, and sets some things right. ✦ the relationship counselor by Nanashi07, ed/stede & olu/jim & lucius, 4k    Lucius Spriggs: the unofficial – and involuntary – relationship counselor of The Revenge. ✦ peccadilloes by Badgerette, ed/stede, 2.1k    On the benefits of literary references. Now with a variation on a theme. ✦ ease one life the aching by treescape, ed/stede, 1.1k    Or, Ed’s not used to being taken care of. Stede wants to change that. ✦ separating salt from water by morian, ed/stede & cast, 6k    Or: The Revenge has been becalmed for six days. Ed has bigger things to worry about, like sharks and being in love. ✦ denial by huojuvuus, ed/stede & mary, 2.1k    (or, mary builds an unlikely friendship and maybe saves her ex-husband’s relationship in the process.) ✦ when you love it by mia_ugly, ed/stede, NSFW, 5.7k    Stede’s being kissed before the door fully clicks shut behind him. ✦ on the bed of this blue ocean by kirkaut, ed/stede, 9.6k    [Or: Ed hears about Stede’s ‘death’ and promptly falls apart.] ✦ Trick by Desdemon, ed/stede, NSFW, 4.2k    Stede teaches Ed how to play piquet. ✦ Two Captains and a Baby by triedunture, ed/stede, 9.2k    The crew of The Revenge finds a lost infant during one of their bouts of fuckery. Stede and Ed play caretaker for one night. ✦ every morning the world by treescape, ed/stede, NSFW, 1.1k    Or, breakfast in bed doesn’t go exactly as planned, but that’s okay. ✦ we were warnings by mia_ugly, ed/stede, NSFW, 13.1k    Stede comes back. Ed does too. It just takes a little longer. ✦ Never Been Sketched by Luddleston, ed/stede & lucius, 3.6k    Or: Ed poses for a portrait in the nude, and Lucius has to watch Stede go through a life-altering internal crisis, witness a frankly upsetting level of sexual tension, and deal with the most fidgety portrait subject ever. At least he gets to ogle Blackbeard while he’s at it. For the sake of art. Obviously. ✦ heartless by Nanashi07, ed/stede & izzy & frenchie & jim, 4.8k    Stede seems determined to win Edward back. It must be why he keeps “accidentally” showing up in Edward’s life.

another art tutorial post :) this time it’s for rainbow effects

Cultural Practices: Pai Sho - The Game

I'm honestly a little embarrassed it took me this long to get to this topic! As always, credit goes to @atla-lore-archive for saving all the neat ATLA tidbits and concept art from the old Nick website.

Pai Sho (牌數), meaning "several game pieces" in Chinese, takes inspiration from a few different table games:

Its most obvious influence is the German game Sternhalma, known in the English-speaking world as Chinese Checkers. Like Chinese Checkers, the game is played on a circular board.

The lines on the board and the circular tiles are reminiscent of Xiàng​qí (象棋), known in the English-speaking world as Chinese Chess. The pieces often being positioned on the intersection of lines is also very similar to Chinese Chess.

The game's four player limit and visually creative tiles are reminiscent of Mahjong (麻将), China's most famous tile game. In particular, the iconic white lotus tile appears to draw heavily from the classic Mahjong one-dot tile.

Finally, the name Pai Sho was likely inspired by Pai Gow (牌九), meaning "nine game pieces" in Cantonese--- which is both a domino game and a style of poker.

Just like ATLA's animals, it seems that Pai Sho is a fusion of different real life sources. In the next posts, I'll be covering the symbolism and cultural significance behind each Pai Sho tile shown in ATLA.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

Let's talk money. As of now Madol is the main currency used by people at NRC. We don't know yet if other countries in TW have their own currency or not, but as of now let's just stick to Madol.

First of all Madol probably got its name from combining the words "magic" and "dollars" together, a very Japanese way to name things as expected from a Japanese game. Second of all, what about coins? As of now Madol are shown to be bills, so are there coins? If yes then what are the coins called, how much of those coins make up 1 Madol, how many types of coins are there and what are the prices?

Thirdly, and most interesting in my opinion, is the exchange rate. According to Ruggie's PE uniform personal story he had to go buy a drink for Leona at Sam's shop that costs around 700 Madol, which Ruggie saids that's "expensive". In Floyd's SSR PS he bought *some* peppermint candy from Sam's shop for the price of 100 Madol, which Azul say that 100 Madol is "cheap". Knowing that I think we can assume that the inflation rate at NRC is similar to that of Japan or South Korea's.

That would make sense. Twisted Wonderland is a Japanese game with the author of the stories also being Japanese, it would be convenient and simple if she were to use real life currency she's familar with as reference. Now if we were to blatantly assume that 1 Madol = 1 Japanese Yen, it would also actually make sense. Right now 1 USD is around 106 JPY, so in Floyd's case he bought those candy for only one buck, that's pretty cheap. As for Ruggie's case if 700 Madol is 700 JPY, then it's going to be around 6 USD. 6 bucks IS quite expensive for just a cup of juice.

All in all I would love for Yana to give us an official exchange rate for Madol and real currencies.

What do you guys think? Discuss.

“i. “Your name is Tasbeeh. Don’t let them call you by anything else.” My mother speaks to me in Arabic; the command sounds more forceful in her mother tongue, a Libyan dialect that is all sharp edges and hard, guttural sounds. I am seven years old and it has never occurred to me to disobey my mother. Until twelve years old, I would believe God gave her the supernatural ability to tell when I’m lying. “Don’t let them give you an English nickname,” my mother insists once again, “I didn’t raise amreekan.” My mother spits out this last word with venom. Amreekan. Americans. It sounds like a curse coming out of her mouth. Eight years in this country and she’s still not convinced she lives here. She wears her headscarf tightly around her neck, wades across the school lawn in long, floor-skimming skirts. Eight years in this country and her tongue refuses to bend and soften for the English language. It embarrasses me, her heavy Arab tongue, wrapping itself so forcefully around the clumsy syllables of English, strangling them out of their meaning. But she is fierce and fearless. I have never heard her apologize to anyone. She will hold up long grocery lines checking and double-checking the receipt in case they’re trying to cheat us. My humiliation is heavy enough for the both of us. My English is not. Sometimes I step away, so people don’t know we’re together but my dark hair and skin betray me as a member of her tribe. On my first day of school, my mother presses a kiss to my cheek. “Your name is Tasbeeh,” she says again, like I’ve forgotten. “Tasbeeh.” ii. Roll call is the worst part of my day. After a long list of Brittanys, Jonathans, Ashleys, and Yen-but-call-me-Jens, the teacher rests on my name in silence. She squints. She has never seen this combination of letters strung together in this order before. They are incomprehensible. What is this h doing at the end? Maybe it is a typo. “Tas…?” “Tasbeeh,” I mutter, with my hand half up in the air. “Tasbeeh.” A pause. “Do you go by anything else?” “No,” I say. “Just Tasbeeh. Tas-beeh.” “Tazbee. All right. Alex?” She moves on before I can correct her. She said it wrong. She said it so wrong. I have never heard my name said so ugly before, like it’s a burden. Her entire face contorts as she says it, like she is expelling a distasteful thing from her mouth. She avoids saying it for the rest of the day, but she has already baptized me with this new name. It is the name everyone knows me by, now, for the next six years I am in elementary school. “Tazbee,” a name with no grace, no meaning, no history; it belongs in no language. “Tazbee,” says one of the students on the playground, later. “Like Tazmanian Devil?” Everyone laughs. I laugh too. It is funny, if you think about it. iii. I do not correct anyone for years. One day, in third grade, a plane flies above our school. “Your dad up there, Bin Laden?” The voice comes from behind. It is dripping in derision. “My name is Tazbee,” I say. I said it in this heavy English accent, so he may know who I am. I am American. But when I turn around they are gone. iv. I go to middle school far, far away. It is a 30-minute drive from our house. It’s a beautiful set of buildings located a few blocks off the beach. I have never in my life seen so many blond people, so many colored irises. This is a school full of Ashtons and Penelopes, Patricks and Sophias. Beautiful names that belong to beautiful faces. The kind of names that promise a lifetime of social triumph. I am one of two headscarved girls at this new school. We are assigned the same gym class. We are the only ones in sweatpants and long-sleeved undershirts. We are both dreading roll call. When the gym teacher pauses at my name, I am already red with humiliation. “How do I say your name?” she asks. “Tazbee,” I say. “Can I just call you Tess?” I want to say yes. Call me Tess. But my mother will know, somehow. She will see it written in my eyes. God will whisper it in her ear. Her disappointment will overwhelm me. “No,” I say, “Please call me Tazbee.” I don’t hear her say it for the rest of the year. v. My history teacher calls me Tashbah for the entire year. It does not matter how often I correct her, she reverts to that misshapen sneeze of a word. It is the ugliest conglomeration of sounds I have ever heard. When my mother comes to parents’ night, she corrects her angrily, “Tasbeeh. Her name is Tasbeeh.” My history teacher grimaces. I want the world to swallow me up. vi. My college professors don’t even bother. I will only know them for a few months of the year. They smother my name in their mouths. It is a hindrance for their tongues. They hand me papers silently. One of them mumbles it unintelligibly whenever he calls on my hand. Another just calls me “T.” My name is a burden. My name is a burden. My name is a burden. I am a burden. vii. On the radio I hear a story about a tribe in some remote, rural place that has no name for the color blue. They do not know what the color blue is. It has no name so it does not exist. It does not exist because it has no name. viii. At the start of a new semester, I walk into a math class. My teacher is blond and blue-eyed. I don’t remember his name. When he comes to mine on the roll call, he takes the requisite pause. I hold my breath. “How do I pronounce your name?” he asks. I say, “Just call me Tess.” “Is that how it’s pronounced?” I say, “No one’s ever been able to pronounce it.” “That’s probably because they didn’t want to try,” he said. “What is your name?” When I say my name, it feels like redemption. I have never said it this way before. Tasbeeh. He repeats it back to me several times until he’s got it. It is difficult for his American tongue. His has none of the strength, none of the force of my mother’s. But he gets it, eventually, and it sounds beautiful. I have never heard it sound so beautiful. I have never felt so deserving of a name. My name feels like a crown. ix. “Thank you for my name, mama.” x. When the barista asks me my name, sharpie poised above the coffee cup, I tell him: “My name is Tasbeeh. It’s a tough t clinging to a soft a, which melts into a silky ssss, which loosely hugs the b, and the rest of my name is a hard whisper — eeh. Tasbeeh. My name is Tasbeeh. Hold it in your mouth until it becomes a prayer. My name is a valuable undertaking. My name requires your rapt attention. Say my name in one swift note – Tasbeeeeeeeh – sand let the h heat your throat like cinnamon. Tasbeeh. My name is an endeavor. My name is a song. Tasbeeh. It means giving glory to God. Tasbeeh. Wrap your tongue around my name, unravel it with the music of your voice, and give God what he is due”

—

Tasbeeh Herwees, "The Names They Gave Me“ (via cat-phuong)

I am weeping.

(via strangeasanjles)

Reblog this if your sanity is being assaulted by an obnoxiously large video ad for an Amazon Prime Video series called ‘The Boys’

im not saying you should follow my spotify/check out my playlist but you should follow my spotify and check out my playlists :)