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animehouse-moe · 8 months

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Ishura Volume 1: Otherworldly Action

Yeah yeah, Ishura's first volume is pretty old at this point, I know. I've had it on my shelf for a while too, and this is about a week removed from when I finished reading it. Bit of a mess, no? Anyways, I just wanted to chat about this series. My expectations, reactions, and my overall thoughts through this experience spurred on by the interest of a friend.

Right away, the world itself is an incredibly interesting one. In spite of the inclusion of "isekai" as a concept, the world they exist in stands incredibly comfortably on its own two feet. It's established, full of life and history, and much like the power and ability of our Shura, is an opaque well of indiscernible depth.

For example, the primary form of magic is called "Word Arts", an incredibly powerful but equally finnicky system, it takes the place of traditional mana in this story. But it's deeper than that. It's not just whether you have enough mana or ability to cast a spell, it's whether or not you're close enough to it.

Whether or not you are close enough to the earth around you to command it, to the water that runs through a stream, to the air or weapons or the very people around you. It's a magic system tied down by familiarity and association, which I think is an incredibly great idea. It means that it's usefulness is very sparing, relying both on the talent/affinity of the user as well as their positioning or location. Also, it's just a really great in world answer for how "Visitors" (the term used to describe people effectively "isekai'd" to this world), as well as any manner of minia (the in-world term for humans) or even intelligent beasts and monsters can communicate with one another.

Following that, a piece that might be a bit abrasive at first thanks to its late justification is the naming system. People have a primary/first name, of course. Soujirou, Alus, Higuare, Kuze, so on and so forth. But rather than a "last" name or "family" name like most are used to, they have a second name. The naming conventions for it might be a little on the nose for some though, as it's more like a "term" or turn of phrase used to refer to the characters in question. The Willow Sword, The Star Runner, The Pelagic, The Passing Disaster. They refer to the talents, perception, and feats of the individual Shura. So like I said, some might not like it, but if you think on it for a second, it makes sense. Words themselves are power, there's no better way to express a shura's/person's power than with a name that describes them.

Alright, so where to next? Maybe I'll drop by the characters. The range of characters that exists is really cool, and continues to speak to the depth and scope of the world. A humanoid mandrake, a pair of intelligent wyverns, Visitors, a living tank (yeah, that's right). The variation within the cast of Shura appearing in this volume is delightfully fresh, and dabbles in just the right amounts of each to provide a sense of the scale of the world. They might not be expanded upon or overly well developed, but the very nature of them adds a great deal.

Alongside that, the focus of this first volume is surprisingly solid. Lithia is a principality that has seceded from the last Minia nation left in the world, Aureatia. Aureatia and it's 29 officials are the vestiges of the human nations that banded together to push back the True Demon King years ago, and they don't take kindly to one of their own officials trying to make it on their own. Because of that, what started as harassment and guerilla warfare balloons into an all out do-or-die assassination attempt from Aureatia.

The concept is incredibly interesting, and aims to add to the intrigue of the world.... but it falls short. It's sped through in a first volume that introduces several characters through their own chapters while attempting to juggle the political and strategic challenges of the squabble turned battle. The fodder characters are more fodder than you could ever imagine, considering their importance prior to the overnight battle. Specific Shura end up doing nothing, while others end up the center of attention in spite of their lack of charm or interest.

Let me explain. We have eight, maybe nine? Shura that are introduced in this first volume. Most have their own dedicated chapters exploring how they come to exist in the story, and what their pasts are. Sometimes, with characters like Kuze The Passing Disaster, that introduction intertwines with the story, but it's not all of them. Because of that, quite a bit of the time ends up away from the fight between the the nation-state and nation. It's a difficult middle ground to strike, that feels like Keiso wants to explore these characters, but also wanted to explore the political tension and couldn't decide which to do in this first volume.

So, the pacing is rushed and somewhat muddy at times. Not great, but not overly terrible either. Let's talk characters, some are good, some are very much not, and others don't get the light of day. These are all Shura, incredibly strong anomalies in their world. Sometimes that's exposed through things like a Mandrake that was a battle slave that continually adapted to his environment, other times it's a Visitor that can cut anything with any old sword. Sometimes it's a character that is essentially omnipotent but struggles with the concept of morality and violence due to their age and innocence, and sometimes it's a priest/paladin that can kill anything if it attempts to harm him.

See what I mean? They're not all created equal, not in the slightest. OP ability can be incredibly well contextualized with some characters, and be nonexistent with others. It means that there's a decidedly large gap between which characters are "good", and which are "bad" (though that's not to mention those that are thrown to the wayside like Nihilo).

And because of that gulf, battles can seem... disinteresting, at times. Once I got into Lithia vs Aureatia in full, I called every death except for one. The writing of the characters exposes them to Keiso's idiosyncrasies. They don't exactly drop hints as to who will die, but as you read you can very clearly tell who is the favorites/favored in the story by how their introductions and interactions are approached.

I think worse than that though is how the Shura force an imbalance in the world building. A standing army that can be wiped out by a single person that can be hired for next to nothing, an anomaly on the scale of a monstrous winged swarm that is snuffed out without the challenger exchanging anything of value, so on and so forth. The gap in power between the average minia and a single Shura is too wide, it creates holes in the logic of the world. Why would you create a professional army, pay them, house them, and train them, when you could hire a single Shura to do the exact same duty? It's an enigmatic question that you find several times over through the first volume.

And I think that's the best way to describe it, an enigma. Much like the Shura themselves, this first volume is full of incredibly interesting and great pieces, but is marred by a handful of egregiously bad and poor decisions, coated in a questionable amount of forgotten aspects. Keiso has some truly great ideas that have formed this world, and interesting angles to approach it via, but struggle greatly with putting it together.

I'm undeniably interested in this story, but am not all for it. I don't need to pick up the second volume right away to read it, but I most likely will at some point. I think that Keiso has a lot of potential, and even still, Ishura embodies that potential. It's just that the intrigue and excitement should be tempered with a series like this. So, if you like the idea, and are aware of its shortcomings, I'd certainly say there's a solid chunk of people out there that will enjoy this series.

#ishura #異修羅 #light novel recommendation #light novel review #light novel #anime and manga #anime #upcoming anime

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marvel-m-lee · 2 years

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Inspired by THIS art by @purplecarseat

WATER BALLOONS

Words: 3057

Fandom: Mha, bnha

Ships: none but idk if you want??

Fluff <333

Summary: Midoriya, Uraraka, Kirishima and Todoroki tried t ay a revenge prank on Iida but it goes totally wrong... (inspired by art above <3)

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Uraraka giggled as she was handed a freezing cold water balloon, filled up by Todoroki as to cause an even better, colder reaction for its victim.

As she used her Quirk to levitate the balloon above a door, Todoroki, Midoriya and Kirishima all stood a fair good distance away as not to get soaked themselves when it exploded. Each hardly holding back a laugh as they all stood together, watching as Uraraka set up the final part of their prank.

You see, in the last week their dear old friend Iida had been playing pranks on them. Very out of character for him, I know, but even so he was always found guilty by the end. Whether it was jumping out and scaring them or putting up broken elevator signs. One time he even sped past during training and placed a little note on Izukus back- harmless, but even so it was definitely confusing when almost everyone tried to tickle him throughout the day.

Well the four had come together to stop this rain of terror that seemed to be possessing Iida to play so many pranks on everyone.

Once the prank wad set up, Uraraka walked back over to the boys, the four standing together at a fair distance as not to get soaked but also to see everything that was about to happen. Each having a grin on their face, excited to watch revenge unfold.

But oh, lice was not so easy or kind.

The door opened and Uraraka quickly dropped the ballon, hearing it splash and collide with its victim and soaking them as they jumped and wiggled around trying to escape the unpredicted freezing water.

It was too late to stop the balloon once each realised who had walked through, it was inevitable... some choked back a laugh even through the fear while othersbstood in pure horror as their victim stood, frozen in cold water while trying to process what had happened through soaking blond hair and a soaking black shirt.

The old man stood, staring and waiting for an excise form the kids. All who which stared at one of their teachers, whom was soaked from their prank.

"I thought Iida was meant to come through that door Midoriya!" Kirishima whispered yet yelled, still staring at the previous Number One Pro Hero.

"I- I thought he was! He said he had training from 10-2 yesterday! It's two now and I thought he'd come through!" Midoriya blabbered an excuse, slightly- well definitely- terrified.

For a moment everyone was silent before Kirishima stood up with a sigh and glared at Midoriya, looking at the time on his phone.

"Midoriya."

"Yeah?..."

"ITS 1PM. THE CLOCKS WENT BACK YESTERDAY- HOW COULD YOU FORGET THAT?!" Pure fear sunk into Midoriya's face after that, realising realising he hadn't reset his clock on his phone. He looked at each petrified face to All Might who was still stood there with a lit of blood dripping from his smaller forms mouth.

Midoriya's apologies quickly spilled from his mouth as he raised his hands, apologise perfusly in fear of what would happen next between his friends.

It was broken though by All Might grabbing the green boy by his wrist and holding him to his chest, both cringing from the cold water.

The successor couldn't tell what was going on but saw fear in all his friends faces. Toshinori had a blue, devilish glint in his eye as he grabbed Midoriya's hand in one hand and placed the other right beside his side.

Finally Midoriya noticed this and began to struggle, giggling a little before his hand even touched him. All his friends seemed to be frizen in fear even as he pleaded.

"The three of you have 3 seconds to run." The power three heard this and suddenly bolted out if sight, waving good luck to Midoriya as they hid.

"SORRY BROCCOLI BOY"

"Sorry Midoriya!"

"Good Luck!"

The thee bolted down the corridor before splitting up into hiding, leaving Midoriya with the sadistic who stood above him, glaring at him with a smirk on his face.

Izuku couldn't help but let out a few nervous giggoes and pleas but before he knew it he'd been thrown over his idols shoulder and dragged to the common room where he was thrown on a sofa with no escape as he swore he could already feel the tickles from the butterflies dancing around in his stomach.

"S-Sir please- I dont- didnt- waiaiahihit!" It didn't take much to make Midoriya a mess of the couch, and Toshinori's wet, freezing, hair dripping on him made it so much worse.

The man gripped onto the child's sides and mercilessly gave him no hope in freedom, squeezing his sides as he began to try to fight back in high pitched laughter.

"wAiHaIhiT! WaIhAiHIt! Pleheahase! Plehease!" Midoriya was barely given a break as All Might then went for the boys ribs, knowing them to be a weak spot, turning him a little more high pitched and squeally, trying to curl up his knees in protection.

"Never mess with me Young Midoriya! Never, do you understand?" Midoriya still tried to fight him off but he was so damn ticklish that the first squeeze rendered him practically useless in defense of the tickle attack.

All Might knew the not well, so he knew if he left him like this, he wouldn't dare to leave the couch if told so, or couldn't either as he'd be too weak from laughter, but even so he wanted to take it one step further. He loved to joke and play with his successor every once in a while.

He gripped onto the boys hips and glared him in the eye. Quickly the broccoli began to beg and apologise frantically, pushing his hands away yet failing desperately.

"If this is all you can take, then how will you ever go Plus Ultra?" Toshinori grinned, pinching down and suddenly going full speed at Midoriya's hips.

The boy was sent through heaven to life to hell and back, no more words other than his giggly screeches and legs kicking out, hips bucking and head shaking, a smile wideky present on his face.

"EEEEEE PLEAAAAHEEASE PLEASE NO MOREEE AHHHH" The greeny couldn't take anymore and his laughter screeched through the dorms, a few people coming to watch, along with one of the other members of this beautiful prank.

All Might finally let up on the poor boy, patting him on the head while laughing, still soaked but now Midoriya seeming a little damp too, and extremely giggly as he hugged himself and tried to hide in the sofa.

Those around gathered to see what had happened and saw Toshinori soaking wet, from that view alone mixed with the revenge in his eyes, they knew not to interfere.

Toshinori told Izuku not to move from the couch until he returned, which the boy had no problem with at all- he then looked up and around, looking for any of the last three who's come to visit with the crowd, and booya, there she was.

Second Target, Ochako Uraraka. The two made eye contact before bolting down the corridor, though it didn't take long before she too was dragged back to the Tickle Punishment.

"You know Young Uraraka, sometimes coming back for a team mate is dangerous. Though im glad you're here, means less hunting for me"

With that he threw the girl on the couch, beside a curled up Deku. A good few people were watching now, smiling at their class mates or just intrigued at was was about to happen.

Ochako raised her hands and begged all Might for a mercy she wasn't going to receive. It took even less time to make her squeal, new to Toshinori but the girl had ticklish palms, which did make sense. Her quirk was light and she did have soft hands, so he decided to take advantage of this treating the girl like a child.

He sat beside her, taking taking her hands into his lap before chanting a nursery rhyme, swirling his fingers around and around one palm while the other hand held her in place.

"Round and round the merry go round" He teased, making her blush and giggles nervously. "Round and round the garden" He then began to walk two fingers up her wrist and arm. "Like a Teddy bear, one step, two step, tickly under there!" Suddenly his hands were under her arms and tickling away at the hollows, making the poor girl squeal and raise her shoulders for some kind of protection.

Though this wasn't enough for All Mights revenge, God no. He then dragged her legs on top of his own, pulling her sideways and giving her a giggly break before gently fluttering fingers underneath Ochakos knees while holding down her legs as not to kick him in the face as she squealed through giggly high pitched laughter, unable to stand the light, weakening tickles on her legs. To add a little kick to it Toshinori would occasionally grab onto her shins and give them a quick squeeze before going back to the maddening soft tickles on his prey.

It didn't take long for Ochako to break either, still giggling and shaking her head when he'd finally freed her, ghostly tickles still attacking her legs.

She quickly his her bright cheery face with her hands and whined into them, nodding when Toshinori told her to stay where she was.

Most people were gone now, going to do their own thing. A few people continued to watch but Toshinori had left by now on search for another of his four prey, only having two left.

Luckily one of them was pretty easy, Bakugou wasn't necessarily quiet while playing video games, especially which screaming at 'shitty hair' whenever he lost.

"Dude! Shush!" Kirishima begged, looking around as if All Might would just burst through the wall at any moment.

"Don't tell me what to do!? You still haven't told me why you came bursting in here, begging to stay for a while. You're not a fucking lost puppy"

Bakugou was way too pissed off at his game to realise how loud he was being, and this was just pure luck for a certain hunter.

After a monet of yelling there was a knock on the door, making Kirishima stop in his tracks.

"What do you want?!" Bakugou screamed, but without an answer, he groaned and got up. Kirishima however jumped up and began to try to convince Bakugou to not open up that door. As you can guess Bakugou gave no shits and did so anyway, only to be greeted by his teacher, Toshinori.

"Hello Young Bakugou, is Kirishima in here?" He asked, Bakugou seemed a little surprised but shrugged, turning around to give his friend away into his torturous and tickly hands.

Kirishima stood in pure fear of the man. "Young Kirishima! Come here please" that glint in his eye. Kiri bolted to the bed and Bakugou followed, confused af as to what was going on. It didn't take long though to realise and burst out laughing as his friend was being tickled to pieces by the world's previous No.1 hero.

Toshinori grabbed Eijiro by his foot and pulled him down onto his stomach on the bed as he began to tickle said foot vigorously, sending the hardening boy into hystericals. The sudden funny touch made it almost impossible for the redhead to use his quirk and hardwn his body, legs gone weak anyway and face in his friends pillow.

Eijiro began to wack the bed like a child having a tantrum as his two feet were placed into a foot lock and tortured, making him weak in the knees and a laughing mess.

Bakugou couldn't help but burst into hystericals at the same time, he wasn't one to take part in- this. But he also knew they were alone and that Kirishima looked so funny right now-

"Nahaha! Noho NOho sTAHaAhp sIR!" Kirishima jumped like a worm ad tried to curl up on his stomach, though it did very little when All Might began to tickled under his toes and occasionally reaching over to give his rib a squeeze.

The childish laughter that came from the red heads mouth was incredible, but what made everything a billion times better was when Bakugou decided to jump in there and help All Might out.

"Move out the way, this is how you really get him to scream" Bakugou informed, moving and straddling Kirishima who seemed a thousand times more worried than before.

"HEY- HEY! BAKUGOU- plEheAse dude!" Eijiro's face had a wide smile but desperate pleas, All Might was still sat at the foot of the bed, luckily not as soaked as he'd previously been but still rather damp.

Katsuki had a sadistic smirk on his face, ready to get himself some revenge from that previous game. "What is it Shitty Hair? Can't handle some tickles?" And with that he dug into these little squishy bits around Eijiro's lower tummy and vibrated his fingers, making the boy scream in hystericals.

Kirishima wasn't the most ticklish but from what All Might was seeing, whatever Bakugou was whispering and doing seemed to be working pretty well.

Unsurprisingly, Bakugou did this until the red haired boy's fave was the same colour as his hair, and had gone silent from laughter. All Might debated whether he should interview but just told the red head and blonde to not kill each other and to go to the common room when they'd finished.

"I'm fine with that" Bakugou smirked, some villainous thing trapped withing him as he gave Kirishima a break as Toshinori walled out the door.

As soon as it shut behind him thiugh, a scream was heard, followed by pleas and loud laughter, with a bed creaking.

Now for his last victim, Todoroki.

All Might searched high and low for him but it seemed he was a much harder target than the last three. It took a little more than a stroll to find him, but finally, all good things mist come to an end when the half and half boy had been found right where the crime had taken place...

The half and half was wondering through halls, cautiously looking round corners as he made his way anywhere from Toshinori. Honestly he had little clue as to if Todoroki was actually ticklish given his childhood and how he'd barely seen the boy give too much emotion, but something told him that by the way he was hiding, the boy was bad.

For a while Toshinori decided to mess around with him, following him out of sight before scooping him up Iver his shoulder as he yelped, kicking out but quickly dying in defeat, deep, quiet giggles already foaming up and out of his mouth.

Shoto was too, thrown on the couch and tickled mercilessly like the rest. Uraraka had snuggled up to Midoriya and the two were taking, watching TV, still very happy and playful so there was still a sofa free in which Toshinori threw Shoto over on his back and sat above him, digging into the icy hot boys tummy, making him hug himself in defense and bucking upwards.

"Todoroki, I never knew you were so ticklish. A weakness such as this is one you should definitely work on" All Might teased, beginning to tweak at his sides, making he boy give up happier and louder laughter. Honestly Shotos was one if the best as it was much rarer to hear it so light and honest.

"AhAhaLL MiHIHiGhT! PlHESSSaSe! NohOhO!" Shoto couldn't stand the tickles and his quirk gave a little jolt, one side suddenly freezing while other much hotter. All Might then tickled his neck making some of the most adorable Todoroki laughter pour from his mouth, batting away at his hand as his temperatures cooled down.

Toshinori went back to tickling his stomach for a while before making the boy scream uncle, leaving him helpless and a giggly mess as the blood got up.

Not far behind, a certain blond and redhead could be seen, Kirishima's face seemed to be as red as his hair while Bakugou also had a slight blush, though Kirishima obviously got much worse, barely being able to walk without laughing.

He collapsed on the couch at Todoroki's feet, Bakugou being in a weird but playful mood tickling them a little to move them out of the way. Todoroki jumped and giggled softly, melting everyone's hearts.

Toshinori looked down at his victory of smiling faces and ghostly tickles, still a little wet but even so happy with his victory.

Just then the one, the only, Tenya Iida walked through the doors with a towel and shirt for All Might, smiling and wiping his own forehead with a separate flannel from his training.

"I saw you needed a towel and shirt sir-" Iida then looked down at all of his friend who had seemingly died on them couches.

"What happened?-" He couldn't help but laugh little, still slightly concerned though.

Each of the original four all looked up at Iida with red, smily and worn our faces and groaned in synchronisation.

"Totally not manly" Kirishima whined as he dropped his head face first into a pillow. Todoroki only let out a couple more giggles but even so turned on his back and whined in the failed prank.

"Nothing, these four just couldn't hide very well"

Iida seemed confused but laughed, it didn't take a genius to realised they'd all been tickled to bits. Even so, they all snuggled up on the couch and watched TV together, vowing never to play a prank again and even dragging Toshinori in with them.

When everyone was falling asleep, exhausted, Izuku was laying on Toshinori's chest, half asleep and drousy, "Sorry dad, but thanks" Amd with that, practically knocked out. Iida was on the other couch with Shoto, Kiri and Bakugou luckily, so they hadn't heard and Uraraka was long gone. But it meant a lot to All Might. To Toshinori.

It meant a lot.

EVEN SO THE NEXT DAY THEY TRIED THE SAME PRANK BUT SOMEHOW FAILED AGAIN BUT THIS TIME GOT AIZAWA AND MIC SO HONESTLY THEY NEVER LEARNT THEIR LESSON GOODBYE.

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ponysweet · 2 years

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Can you give Starlight Glimmer headcanons this like this but when she's still a villain? I'd love to see what you have

Whipped this up quickly because I don't have too many changes? I liked her with curls in her few concept arts so I gave them to her here. I also took the chance to change the scar on her flank since it bothered me oijadsf. Despite doing it to herself, she would use it to gain some sympathy

warning long text, me rambling about starlight because i wuv her !!

I think Starlight began 'Our Town' as no so evil at the beginning, she wasn't exactly out their preaching about her hatred of cutie marks out in the public square or something. But as she would tell her stories to ponies, it would hit close to home for them and they'd agree with their hatred of their cutie mark and the society based around them (and also hatred for themselves). Like unicorns who didn't have magic base talents but something like, making balloon animals, baking, kite making, who were often seen as 'not needed' seeing as earth ponies could do that stuff normally. Or pegasi without flying or speed related cute marks. Eventually word would spread about Starlight and ponies who wanted to live in a cutie mark-less based society formed around this little village Starlight had nestled into. It was nice seeing other ponies feel the same way she did and everything was nice and perfect for awhile, ponies were building amazing lives and they even decreed Starlight as their Mayor since she brought them all together here. I don't think ponies removed their cutie marks via magic, but probably just hid them or covered them up with make-up like Starlight did in canon.

But the more this 'society' grew the more frequent in fighting would become over other things. It wasn't just cutie marks that were driving wedges between ponies, it was other differences as well. So Starlight banned the usage of magic and flight in Our Town as her first rule, and when fighting still happened- some sort of punishment would be handed out. Usually it was 'being locked in your house for the day' but being stripped of your position in Our Town was another, as it was so simple that it could be filled by another pony easily. Then 'daily mantras' were introduced to help everybody stay focused on the goal of life! Everything was stale, lifeless, and joyless but ponies were still smiling..! Sort of..! They weren't fighting, and everything was normal. Haha.. yup. Starlight was obviously convincing herself everything was just a-okay! She'd give everyone the creeps by her smiling too widely and acting WAY too peppy while everyone felt the complete opposite. Though bottling up those emotions eventually lead to aggressive outbursts over the smallest out of place things, big meltdowns would be common for Starlight and others would actively avoid her or avoid angering her, and eventually that's when the Mane 6 were called in.

Everything is sort of the same? They show up and Starlight tries the best she can to convince them but eventually brings out the big guns and uses her pent up magic to actually remove their cutie marks like she did in canon in hopes that it'd do something. It didn't really do much, showing that ponies don't necessarily need to be tied to their cutie marks to be something special (because the ?? removing their cutie marks was just like taking away magic, making them useless and slow was like??). The Equalized 4 or whatever help out to return the cutie marks though and become closer friends and those 4 try to convince Starlight to come back and start over, but she felt betrayed- cutie marks were chosen over her again which always seems to be the case. Starlight escapes in the end.

#.asks #anonymous #.txt #starlight glimmer #i know i haven't posted on my pony blog in forever but uhh #this ask tempted me to post again #if you didn't read my last post on starlight the ask does link to my previous headcanon post #and talks about the reformation of starlight

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artfromsaturn · 1 year

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A side project to get myself back into pixel art: a roster of 8 fake gym leaders from a goofy ideal pokemon game region in my head. :o

Have some bio about them under the cut, along with a 100% view.

dark gym leader - Dunstan

Dressed like a musketeer, leads a nightwatch for the city comprised of teens and others who are troubled & helps them keep on the straight and narrow. He's the straightest laced of the bunch to keep them all together but still enjoys hanging out with them and watching them do loud rebellious (but not illegal) things.

fairy gym leader - Momo

Magical girl themed idol, adores clefariy and all fairy types in general. All her trainers at the gym want to be idols themselves, they tend to help by being back up dancers in music videos. Very active & nice. "I love Cleffaries, Cleffas, and Clefables, but even if i was offered the biggest, shinest clefable, I still wouldn't trade any of my party members! I love them all so much!!!"

poison gym leader - Maya

magician and student of the trickhouse guy. loves jokes and is very silly. Get ready to be #pranked, bro.

flying type gym leader - Neil

sweet guy. mostly retired from his old flight job, now takes people on balloon rides and gym battles. cloud afro. Committed to laughing every day.

ghost gym leader - eustace

utter fucking dork who is a ghost hunter and an overdramatic horror show guy. large ham who likes to appear cackling evil. theatrical but really does appreciate it when you beat him and likes it if you come back and help or talk to him, he needs more friends. loves pokemon ghost, secretly afraid of human ghosts!

grass gym leader - Lata

swamp woman. lives swimming in the water and keeps an eye out for the swampy city. she's serious, stern, and speaks few words, but enjoys company and loves Pokemon of all forms.

fire gym leader - Haruto

Young volcanic monk. good guy, just unsure of himself and can get lost in devotion. worried that losing to you means he will not be worthy of leading the gym, but learns soon after that the rest of the monks dont think less of him for losing to his first challenger and encourage him to keep the position. shonen. insecure but has a firey heart and will go for it with his friends.

steel gym leader - Eun

helped build the city she lives in. beeg city, shining. humble but knows her strength and has confidence in herself and her workers. business woman and architect. Would die for her city.

#pixel art #pixelart #pokemon pixel art #pokemon fanart #pokemon sprites #pixels

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murderedgoat · 2 months

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(OPINION) Vote "Violent J" and "Shaggy2Dope" of I.C.P. for President of the United States. Fuck America, what has it done for me?

I can't say for certain that this is a call to arms of the youth, but what I will say is this: All those bags of bones in government offices will either govern you into varying degrees of misery, or they won't fucking govern at all. American politicians only care about two things: money and themselves. A bunch of losers in suits down in Ohio offered to overturn a landslide marijuana legalization vote (somehow?????) all for the sake of their make believe fucking fairytale sky dictator. Cunts. The Insane Clown Posse, and their fans were put on Earth to spread joy, positivity, and freedom of expression in many an art form. They are the polar opposites of piece of shit, 1%-er, bald, white dipshit politicians, and anyone born and raised in San Antonio, TX.

We have a president currently in office that's used the "N" word on live TV meetings in the late 80's early-ish 90's, has a hate boner for Haitian people and their country, and is actively funding and supporting Palestinian apartheid. The dude running against him in this years POTUS race is a conniving rapist, gun ho "white power" enabling, bat-shit stupid convicted felon. Go back in time and tell Teddy Roosevelt that a man whom brazenly told the world he hid felony-level-classified state documents from FLOOR TO CEILING in his golf home shitter is actively running for president in 2024, and he would pull out a .22 derringer, shoot you in between the eyes, and have your corpse dismissed as "extra-terrestrial." So fuck it. We the people can do write ins.

None of the misery I listed above would happen in an Insane Clown Posse U.S.A. Nuh uh, no siree. Just think about the policies we could get passed with a couple of juggalos in the oval office huh? New prints of the bible have disclaimers on them, letting them know that god is indeed, not real, and that they should delegate that love to the people they, oh I don't know, gave birth to! Kid Rock banned in all 50 states. Faygo now has a 0 calorie option and is only 99 cents.

John Fetterman gets guillotined live on CNN. Free healthcare.

Defense budget spending is reduced to half of it currently is.

The Juggalo College Loan Forgiveness Program (in order to have all your debt erased, suck some whippit out of a balloon on a beachfront balcony office.)

Mardi Gras is celebrated nationally in every major city in all 50 states and is broadcast live on MSNBC like the new years eve ball drop, only everything is uncensored including all the ass-holes, dicks and puke. And we have people from the news studio go down to bourbon street, get shitfaced, and moon the camera live on TV. Rent reduced by like 90%.

Home ownership is possible for over 75% of the younger generation, for the first time ever. Israel isn't recognized as a country anymore (finally) 3/4's of the NYPD are fired, blacklisted, and can never serve even the simplest security job ever the fuck again. Lest their hatred for colored skin erupt again and take it out on the dude corralling carts into Target. All IOF fighters are extradited to the U.S. , tried and charged for war crimes, mass murder, etc. Israel Prime Minister Benjamin Nemathatyou or however the fuck you spell that dogs name, is chained by his ankles to the hitch of a 2002 Chevy Silverado, then dragged and beaten within an inch of his worthless life through the poorest, most poorly paved city in the entirety of Mississippi.

Both tumblr and twitters CEO's disappear and is replaced with non-transphobic and generally friendlier leadership Would you believe me if I said that this is the short list?! What on this list isn't there to like? If this sounds like the America you want, then just write-in "Violent J" as president, and "Shaggy2Dope" as vice president this November. Fuck homegrown and nepotistic politicians. It's time for some real change. Change for the better. We can also make Boeing change their name back to "McDonnell Douglas."

VOTE I.C.P. FOR PRESIDENT, BITCHES!!!!!!!!

#icp #juggalo #insane clown posse #politics #whoop whoop #murderedgoatblog #no ones gonna see this shit any damn way #just putting this out there its a good idea.

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anysigns · 4 months

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In a bustling Mexican airport, amid the rush of travelers and the hum of departure announcements, an extraordinary sight steals the attention—a young artist immersed in a vibrant mural painting. Her canvas? The airport walls themselves, are soon to be adorned with a mesmerizing display of colors, reminiscent of Banksy‘s evocative style.

The artist, embodying the spirit of creativity and freedom, delicately weaves her vision onto the walls. With each stroke of her brush, she breathes life into the scene—a captivating hummingbird poised in flight amidst a whirlwind of colorful balloons.

Central to her masterpiece is the hummingbird, a symbol of boundless energy and grace. Its iridescent wings shimmer with a myriad of colors, each stroke capturing the bird’s elusive elegance and the transient beauty of nature’s wonders.

The balloons, a vivid spectrum against the airport’s neutral backdrop, add an element of whimsy. Each balloon, painted with an explosion of hues, seems suspended in midair, ready to take flight and carry the dreams of those passing by.

This captivating mural, reminiscent of Banksy’s thought-provoking artistry, serves as more than a visual spectacle. It’s a narrative etched in vibrant tones—a celebration of fleeting moments and the pursuit of joy amidst the everyday hustle.

Immortalized in the form of a vinyl sticker, this artistic marvel offers a piece of this enchanting world to carry anywhere. It’s not just a sticker but a portal to a realm where colors dance, dreams soar, and the language of art speaks volumes without uttering a word—a testament to the power of creative expression.

#vinyl decals #vehicle decals #art #adhesive vinyl print application #painting #car stickers

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grad503-13-ruby-bird · 2 years

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Week Nine - Article Content

In this post I will include the content I will be using for pages 6-10 of the publication; the article. I decided on this text as it gives an overview of El Lissitzky’s involvement in working with the suprematist style. It discusses some of his most famous works, which I felt important and especially relevant to the publication. The colour pallet used in the publication is inspired by some of Lissitzky’s suprematist works, so the article links well with the visual style of the publication. If this article is too long I can shorten it by removing some paragraphs and abridging the text.

Suprematism: El Lissitzky

Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge is a propaganda poster designed by El Lissitzky using the abstract visual language of Suprematism, an art movement founded by Kasimir Malevich in 1915. Made in support of the efforts of the Bolshevik Red Army to overcome the anti-communist White Russians, the poster creates a powerful dynamic composition using basic geometric shapes in red, white, and black. The few words are aligned with the diagonal trajectory of the red triangle so the act of reading follows the overall movement of the design. The red triangle pierces the white circle like a pin in a balloon, implicitly freeing it from the surrounding darkness. A smaller triangle and circle repeat the same theme in the upper right, and throughout the design small red rectangles dominate small dispersing white rectangles, symbolising the Red Army’s triumph over the White Russians.

Towards a practical Suprematism

In this poster we see not only a masterpiece of modern graphic design, but also a new application of the Suprematist visual language, which signified spiritual transcendence, into a practical language intended to convey specific ideas and information about the material world. This seems like a betrayal of the aims of Suprematism, but Malevich supported this practical application of Suprematism’s forms. In the chaotic years following the Russian Revolution of 1917 Malevich backed the creation of the new Soviet culture and believed that deploying Suprematist works throughout society would help to usher in a new spiritual era of immateriality.This sounds naive in hindsight, given the dedicated materialism of communist ideology and Soviet society, but in the years following the revolution avant-garde artists were given substantial opportunities to help shape the new culture. Many artists, including Lissitzky, followed Malevich in seeing the Russian Revolution as a preliminary stage on the path to a new spiritual form of existence.

UNOVIS

After the Russian Revolution the art education system was re-organised, and many modern artists took teaching positions in the new art schools and workshops. In 1919 Malevich was invited to teach at the art school in Vitebsk, where he promoted his Suprematist ideals and acquired many followers among the teachers and students. They formed a group, UNOVIS (Affirmers of the New Art), dedicated to disseminating Suprematism as the visual language of world revolution. In keeping with communist ideals they saw themselves as a collective and signed works as UNOVIS. Most of their works have not survived as they were temporary installations or ephemeral works like posters, brochures, and signs. They used Suprematist forms to decorate public buildings and meeting rooms, such as the facade decoration and curtain design for the Committee to Abolish Unemployment in Vitebsk, which was celebrating its anniversary with a festival in 1920. This is a new stage of Suprematism, one that sees it moving out of the cloistered confines of avant-garde art exhibitions and into the real world, to test its viability in front of a general public.

Prouns

In addition to the movement from the art gallery into the real world, another key transformation of later Suprematism was the extension of its flat planes into designs suggesting volumetric forms. Lissitsky makes this move explicitly in compositions he called “prouns,” an acronym for Project for the Affirmation of the New in Russian, which he described as “the transfer point from painting to architecture.”[1]Lissitzky’s Proun 19D and Malevich’s Painterly Masses in Motion both display abstract rectilinear forms floating in an indeterminate space. Malevich suggests some depth by relative size and by overlapping his brightly colored rectangles, but the overall design of the painting remains very flat. Lissitzky’s Proun 19D uses more muted colours and multiple textures, including collaged papers of varied sorts, foil, oil paint, and crayon. These textures already make the proun a more substantial material object than Malevich’s oil painting. In addition, Lissitzky depicted some of his floating forms in axonometric perspective to indicate that they were three dimensional. The thin brown rectangle that juts in from the right edge of the painting has a bright side receding on the top and an even brighter end receding on the left. In the center of the work two more rectangles, one brown and one blue and beige, are also depicted in axonometric perspective, floating at the same angle. These three forms hover over and through the various flat painted planes surrounding them in the composition to create an ambiguous, but still fairly consistent sense of objects in space.The upper left side of Proun 19D is, however, far more complex and cannot be read as a depiction of objects in the same space as the forms on the right, or even at all in many instances. For example, several of the black rectangles suggest the sides of three-dimensional geometric forms, but they are not consistently drawn, so they metamorphose into flat shapes or altogether different objects as you examine them. Which planes are receding? Which are flat? It is impossible to tell. This lack of rationally-defined space is another instance of the Suprematists’ preference for ambiguous, otherworldly spatial constructions over practical, real-world applications.

Making Suprematism Practical?

Despite their apparently greater materiality, Lissitzky’s prouns remain abstract and spiritual, and even when Suprematism was enlisted to make utilitarian and propagandistic objects for real-world use, it was similarly impractical. One of Lissitzky’s most famous designs, Lenin Tribune, was for a speaker’s rostrum, which was based on earlier UNOVIS designs attributed to Ilia Chashnik.Chashnik’s earlier design employs characteristic Suprematist geometric forms, but rather than floating in an indeterminate space, the forms rise up diagonally from a square anchored to a ground line. Lissitzky’s reworking of the design employs the three-dimensional forms of his prouns: the square is now a cube, and the linear pattern of the diagonal rectangle has become a structural girder supporting the speaker’s platform.The photo collage of Lenin speaking from the rostrum further emphasises the material reality and function of the structure, but even so the Lenin Tribune is curiously abstract and impractical. The jutting platforms, although drawn as solid forms, serve no obvious purpose, and how did Lenin get up to the top platform? What exactly is that grey plane on the ground? A shadow? And if so, of what? The Lenin Tribune is less a utilitarian design for a speaker’s podium, and more a conceptual project intended to associate modern engineering, abstract design, and the leadership of Soviet Russia. In the end, Suprematism had great difficulty reconciling its utopian, spiritual aims with the practical applications demanded by the Soviet state.

Dr. Charles Cramer and Dr. Kim Grant

https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/art-1010/cubism-early-abstraction/russian-avant-garde/a/suprematism-part-ii-el-lissitzky

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alchemisoul · 2 years

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"One word balloon in From Hell completely hijacked my life ... A character says something like, 'The one place gods inarguably exist is in the human mind'. After I wrote that, I realised I'd accidentally made a true statement, and now I'd have to rearrange my entire life around it. The only thing that seemed to really be appropriate was to become a magician."

"There is some confusion as to what magic actually is. I think this can be cleared up if you just look at the very earliest descriptions of magic. Magic in its earliest form is often referred to as “the art”. I believe this is completely literal. I believe that magic is art and that art, whether it be writing, music, sculpture, or any other form is literally magic.

Art is, like magic, the science of manipulating symbols, words, or images, to achieve changes in consciousness. The very language about magic seems to be talking as much about writing or art as it is about supernatural events. A grimmoir for example, the book of spells is simply a fancy way of saying grammar.

Indeed, to cast a spell, is simply to spell, to manipulate words, to change people's consciousness. And I believe that this is why an artist or writer is the closest thing in the contemporary world that you are likely to see to a Shaman...

...In all of magic there is an incredibly large linguistic component. The Bardic tradition of magic would place a bard as being much higher and more fearsome than a magician. A magician might curse you. That might make your hands lay funny or you might have a child born with a club foot.

If a Bard were to place not a curse upon you, but a satire, then that could destroy you. If it was a clever satire, it might not just destroy you in the eyes of your associates; it would destroy you in the eyes of your family. It would destroy you in your own eyes.

And if it was a finely worded and clever satire that might survive and be remembered for decades, even centuries. Then years after you were dead people still might be reading it and laughing at you and your wretchedness and your absurdity.

Writers and people who had command of words were respected and feared as people who manipulated magic. In latter times I think that artists and writers have allowed themselves to be sold down the river. They have accepted the prevailing belief that art and writing are merely forms of entertainment.

They’re not seen as transformative forces that can change a human being; that can change a society. They are seen as simple entertainment; things with which we can fill 20 minutes, half an hour, while we’re waiting to die.

It’s not the job of the artist to give the audience what the audience wants. If the audience knew what they needed, then they wouldn’t be the audience. They would be the artists. It is the job of artists to give the audience what they need."

- Alan Moore

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artxyra · 3 years

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Damian Acting Like A Teenager? Impossible.

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notices was the change in the dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns, there are whispers focus around the new girl. At first, he didn’t care about the gossip, well, that was until he met her.

It was an unusual encounter, something that he would look down on.

It was the passing period, and she was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he didn’t particularly care for; they bump into each other, causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to their newly dubbed princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, which, of course, occurred, but what they didn’t expect was an eventual best of the worst of alliance ever made.

Several months passed since the two had met and several weeks since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship, and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised.

The moment Marinette had broken down any (and all) walls that the boy had placed, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started small with a joke here and there; then it progressed into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point, to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over-the-shoulder wink. The young Wayne swears that he has never blush a day in his life, but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first, the teachers were opposed to the idea, but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become, they slowly agreed to the concept of allowing the duo to have less strict rules. That and they didn't want to be sued by the Wayne family.

Which now brings us to this moment: Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practices his form with a katana; don’t ask how he managed to get it past security-- cause there is no answer.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette thinks aloud, looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What mayhem do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s assume that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~☾★☽~

Since his partnership with Marinette, Damian has been hiding his characteristic change at home. Surprisingly, it was simple. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared enough to pay any attention to it. It only then became a shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred had offered to take him to school to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does anyone else seem to think that Damian is acting strange?” Dick asks, pipping his head down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe Dick should dust the chandelier for him as an apology.

Tim walks in with a large, filled to the brim, coffee mug in hand, “Which one?” He absently wonders, taking a long sip. The dark circles and bags around his eyes explain it all.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite some time now.” Alfred appears out of nowhere, thus starting an array of concerns.

It wasn’t long before Jason came in shouting demands with the head of the household trailing behind him. Alfred reprimands Jason for the yelling as he hands Bruce a cup of coffee.

Not caring enough about the conversation and looking like a madman, Jason shouts, “Look, I can’t explain it, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.”

“Uh, why would we need Baby Bird?” Dick asks, dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look, there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After several protests and one change of clothes, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me, or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim ponders, narrowing his eyes, as he takes a long sip from a to-go coffee cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property like a man on a mission.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself, with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either a passing period or free time from the number of students in the halls. Some student dared to pull out their phones while other whispers amongst themselves.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance office, where the attendance assistant, Joyce, resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here to pick up Damian. He has a, uh, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks, hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” After lingering in her thoughts, Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers, followed by a series of typing noises.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be in the art room; it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it, as it’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted on the walls. Before you go, please sign here."

Joyce hands Bruce a sign-out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to search for his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks, causing Joyce to break out laughing.

It took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to do.

When they got there, Damian wasn't there, but the teacher did show Bruce a couple of Damian's artworks. Bruce couldn't help but feel proud.

While looking around the room, one of the art students told them they last saw Damian playing Pokémon Go near the gym; he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again, Damian wasn’t there but a different student in his stead. He tells them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some wicked skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER would do something that stupid. The student shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen. Bruce then apologizes to the instructor for their disturbance, as Tim walks casually behind Dick carrying Jason.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making an ice sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. One of the workers overheard the question and answered him. Evidently, Damian was there earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students.

When they asked the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with: “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls."

After three locations and no Damian, Tim wanted nothing more but to have a mental breakdown, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up and taking his coffee away.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well, that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shh the male. It took every bone in Jason's body not to show the teacher his middle finger.

After a beat of silence and walking down the hall, they overhear a familiar voice.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” Jason stops dead in his tracks and turns to railings.

The voice was too good to be true.

Looking over the staircase, they find an alcove, and sitting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Wayne. Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as she makes her points, “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color. He's never seen with a yellow background, and if yellow didn't clash with his fur, he would definitely be wearing it.”

“I disagree. Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items, not yellow. Case in point, the red balloon, his shirt." He counters. The conversation continues with banters and statements; whether it was true or false is up to debate.

This was not happening.

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Jason.exe has stopped working.

Jaws dropped, a low groaning sound.

They cannot be witnessing this. The most deadliest of the Wayne’s is currently arguing about Winnie, the motherfucking, Pooh’s favorite color.

Bruce has no words. He's practically in the same stance as his middle children. Dick, on the other hand, pulls out his phone and begins to record what remains of the conversation.

No one dares to move or utter out words. This version of Damian is the apocalypse. Nothing in the world is okay.

Slowly, the four Waynes exit the school; no one saw them leave.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from his classes. When he had returned home, his family didn't utter a word to him. He was meet with either a profusely blinking, unwanted hug or laughter, as they were still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that all hell breaks loose. Damian had introduced the family to Marinette.

----

A retouch version of Request #2

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #artxyra one-shots #daminette

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brawltogethernow · 3 years

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@mirrorfalls submitted: Came across this while searching for James Bond’s scrambled-eggs recipe (long story). Your thoughts?

But did you find James Bond’s scrambled eggs recipe?

In this article, Scocca laments his inability to find accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable to read with his young son, while also demonstrating a mysterious aversion to looking at DC and Marvel’s lines of comics for children, which is where the accessible, lighthearted superhero comics suitable for reading with young children are. He wants his elementary schooler to be able to safely have the run of all superhero media so he doesn’t have to touch the yucky baby books.

This is not an industry-wide crisis. This is just one dude who got paid to write an article where he accidentally exposed one of his personal hangups.

The child headed toward the trade paperbacks of Marvel and D.C. superhero titles on the side wall […] a few steps in front of me. […] Is he with you? a clerk asked me. I said he was. You know, the clerk said, we have a kids’ section. The clerk gestured backward, at a few shelves near the entrance. I said, Thanks, we know and tried throwing in a little shrug, as the kid kept going.

You can’t just turn a seven-year-old child loose in a comic-book store to look at the superhero comic books. […] My seven-year-old really wanted to see that last Avengers movie […] that is, he wished it were a movie he could see, but he understood that it was, instead, a movie designed to scare and sadden him—a movie actively hostile to people like him.

They have a children’s section. Because comics are a medium suitable for stories for everybody, and they are sold in comic book shops, which have sections, like bookstores. You can use this organization to find books that you know in advance are suitable for children. What goes in that category is determined by industry professionals. This area will be bigger the bigger the shop is. These comics are not lower quality that titles from the main lines. They are actually slightly better-written on average.

Your local comic book shop has considerately wrapped Empowered in a plastic bag, so your child will not be drawn in by a colorful superhero and accidentally read a graphic scene. If you think your kid might find a memoir about internment camps upsetting, it is your job to notice them picking up They Called Us Enemy and read the blurb on the back before you let them have it. This comic adults are meant to read is in a comic book shop because that is where comics are sold. Not every public place is supposed to be Disneyland.

Movies have ratings systems. If you do not want your child to watch a PG-13 movie, you will find that most superhero cartoons are for children. They are about the same characters. Some are quite good! I really enjoyed Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Your child may like Avengers Assemble. At least I think that’s right. I’m always mixing those titles around.

This is a deeply weird bias for Scocca to casually demonstrate, because he identifies in the article that real childishness is striving for empty maturity.

He compares an old comic,

[…]a 1966 Spider-Man comic in which Spider-Man meets, fights, and defeats the Rhino; participates in a running argument between John Jameson and J. Jonah Jameson about his heroism; buys a motorcycle; breaks up with his first girlfriend, Betty Brant; flirts with Gwen Stacy; and reluctantly agrees to let Aunt May take him to meet her friend Mrs. Watson’s niece, Mary Jane.

and a new comic,

[…]a 21st century comic book in which Thor, brooding in a Katrina-destroyed New Orleans, beats up Iron Man. He also yells at Iron Man a lot about some incomprehensibly convoluted set of grievances, including involuntary cloning, that he believes Iron Man perpetrated against him while he was dead(?), and then summons some other Norse god from the beyond somehow for reasons having something to do with real estate. I think. Where the 1966 comic is zippy and fun and complete, the whole contemporary one is muddled and lugubrious and seems to constitute a tiny piece of a seemingly endless plot arc—simultaneously apocalyptic and inert.

and concludes that the edgier comic is actually less mature. This is true. (This is not news about mediocre comics.)

It also has nothing to do with either comic being child-friendly, the article’s nominal thesis, except in the sense that ASM #41 (yes, I eyeballed that from that summary, yes I am just showing off now) is better written, making it more everyone-friendly. It also has practically more space dedicated to word balloons than art and is about a college student juggling girl problems and a part-time job with a tyrannical boss. But the immature one, as Scocca points out, is dour.

These are both teenagery issues, separated only by quality. It’s true that lots of new comics published by the big 2 are bad in the specific way Scocca describes here, taking themselves too seriously and hauled down by associated stories instead of buoyed by them. Some are not! Some titles from these companies’ main continuities are zippy, contained, and child friendly. Give your child The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl! Or if you like vintage comics so much better, why don’t you…buy some?

The books on the kid’s rack are good and fun and totally suitable for parents to read with their children without wanting to scoop their eyeballs out. Scocca cites the Batman ‘66 comics as the brightly colored, tightly written all ages solution to his problem about sharing superhero stories with his son. My local comic shop stores this title in the kid’s section. I am glad that Scocca’s does not, as he seems to have a peculiar aversion to looking for comics to read with his son there.

Scocca cites Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse as a superhero movie he could watch with his kids. (I was surprised when this line made it sound like he has several. I don’t want to assume the other one isn’t in this article because they’re a girl, but I very much am assuming that.) Great! Go to the kid’s section and look for Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man. It’s a fun, zippy title directly inspired by ITSV where Miles, Gwen, and Peter superhero together. It’s much more tightly written than most of the various Spider-Verse comics, which are ambitiously messy ubercrossovers. You may not want to give those to children because they include murder and so on, but also you just have the choice between the two as an adult reader deciding how much continuity you want to deal with. Adventures is one of the only titles I would buy on sight before corona. The kid comic rack is a reliable place to take a break from How Comics Get Sometimes regardless of how old you are.

This article makes me feel quarrelsome. Maybe it’s that it doesn’t seem like exploration of a single idea so much as a loosely grouped bundle of things to kvetch about. Maybe it’s that the experience of getting into superheroes that Scocca describes experiencing, projects his seven-year-old son will experience, and from which he extrapolates a metaphorical microcosm of the history of the genre is completely alien to me.

Comic books [and] comic-book movies—are […] trapped in their imagined audience’s own awful passage from childhood to adolescence. A seven-year-old has a clean […] appreciation of superheroes. They like hero comics because the comics have heroes: bold, strong, vividly colored good guys to fight off the bad guys and make the world safe.

But seven-year-olds stop being seven. […] They become 13-year-olds, defensively trying to learn how to develop tastes about tastes.

The 13-year-old wants many things from comics, but the overarching one is that they want to prove that they’re not some seven-year-old baby anymore. They want gloomy heroes, miserable heroes, heroes who would make a seven-year-old feel bad. (Also boobs. They want boobs.)

Not because of the boobs line, although that does illicit an eyeroll that this gloomy thinkpiece is fretting over preserving the superhero experience of little boys who resemble the little boy the writer was while casually dismissing everyone else. I was one of those unlikable little seven-year-olds with a college reading level and the impression that maintaining it was the crux of my worth. I only read Books - distinguished media you could club someone with. I have a formative memory of pausing, enraptured, in front of a poster for Spider-Man 3, preparing to say that it looked pretty cool, and being beaten to the punch by my mother making a disparaging comment about how the movie was trash. It wasn’t out yet, but it was a superhero movie. That meant it was for loud, brainless children.

That was the total of my childhood experience with superheroes, excluding being the unwilling audience to incessant renditions of “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” that left me wondering why in god’s name Batman’s sidekick was named Robin. I certainly never visited a comic book shop. I got into TvTropes, which got me into webcomics, which got me following David Willis, who got me into Ask Chris at ComicsAlliance, which led to me rewarding myself for studying like a demon for the AP tests with three volumes of Waid’s Daredevil, pitched as a return to the character being colorful and swashbuckling. I was seven…teen.

This is of the same thread as Scocca’s point that immaturity is running from childish things. It leaves me baffled that he doesn’t follow that maturity is embracing them.

I will disclose here that while I think it was dumb I had to overcome my upbringing’s deeply embedded shame associated with enjoying arbitrarily defined lowbrow media and children being childish, I think it’s fine that I was allowed largely unchecked access to technically age-inappropriate content. In my limited experience, content small children are too young for is also content they’re too young to understand, so it kind of just bounces off of them, and what actually ends up terrorizing them is unpredictable collages of impressions that strike out at them from content deemed perfectly child-friendly. I would not forbid a seven-year-old I was in charge of from seeing an MCU movie unless I had a reason to believe that specific child would not take it well. These are emotionally low-stakes bubblegum films. It will probably be easier to socialize with other kids if they have seen them.

But then, when I picture being in charge of a hypothetical child, I usually imagine this being the case because they are related to me, and the pupal stage in my family strongly resembles Wednesday Addams. ALL children love death and violence, though, right?? This isn’t a joke point. I know it looks like a joke point.

The MCU thing seems especially weird in light of the article’s particular focus on Spider-Man, which is the kiddie line of the MCU, even if they refused to waver from their usual formula enough to get a lower rating. Though I am more inclined to describe it as “preying on the young” than “child-friendly”.

(MCU movies are increasingly dubious propaganda, but I would not judge them in front of a child who wanted to watch them for that reason, just in case this led to them partaking of them without me the second they were old enough to and then they grew up to run a blog about them while our relationship suffered because they didn’t feel like it was safe to talk to me about their interests…Mom.)

I tried to overcome the philosophy of letting anyone read anything while compiling this handful of mostly-newish superhero recs for the road that anyone can read. (Handily, I have been in spitting distance of being hired as a comic shop clerk enough to have thought about it before):

For actual children:

Marvel Adventures Spider-Man (the new one is reminiscent of ITSV, the old one is more like 616) any DC/Archie crossover, Archie’s Superteens The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (for bookish children who think they’re too good for comics and adults afraid of the kid’s section) Teen Titans Go (even if you hate the show) Superman Smashes the Klan

For teens:

Ms. Marvel Young Avengers (volume 2) Unbelievable Gwenpool Batman: Gotham Adventures Teen Titans Go (the tie-in comic based off the old show was also called this)

Here are a bunch of relevant C. S. Lewis quotes.

#me every time i read a comic book article by a rag not exclusively about comic books: i know more than you.#marvel #spidey #DCU #MCU critical #mirrorfalls #asks answered #submission #unearthed this and bashed it out in one sitting ... i have not been working on it since you sent it last year XD

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reidandweep · 3 years

Text

Riddikulus

Draco Malfoy x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N- In no way do I support JK Rowling and her views. This work is all about the characters created by their true author, Daniel Radcliffe. I do not also dismiss the actions of Draco’s character. My imagine of Draco will always be a different interpretation.

Word Count- 5011 words

Warnings- Mentions of death, drowning, angst, mentions of animal hearts, and fluff.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had never been a strong point of Y/N’s. Even more so now that they had gotten used to having a new teacher every year. It seemed being in the same year as Harry Potter caused staff to come and go for many particular dark and sinister reasons. They were glad that Lockhart was no longer teaching, as his ways of education was rather, in the nicest phrase, absolutely shit. So far, Professor Lupin had done more for the children in teaching the subject, than both Professor Quirrell and Lockhart did combined. Y/N was truly hoping that Lupin was a permanent fixture to the position.

While Lupin prepared the class for each lesson, nothing could prepare the students for having to deal with the Boggart.

“Can anyone tell us what a boggart looks like?”

Y/N looked around at the classmates near them, instantly noticing Hermione’s hand shoot into the air.

“No one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever the person fears most. That’s what makes it so…”

“Terrifying, yes. Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let's practice it now, shall we? Without wands, please... Riddikulus!”

Y/N joined their classmates in repeating the incantation.

“This class is ridiculous.”

Turning at the sound of the snide comment, Y/N locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. In Y/N’s world, Draco was a mere speck in the distance, and that greatly offended Draco. No matter how much he called them a mudblood or caught them in the corridors with his cronies behind him, as they teased the young wizard/witch, Y/N all but let the worlds roll off their back; like water on a duck. Draco wished, just once, that what he and his friends said affected them, but yet it never did, and that pissed Draco off to know end. Not because his words did not hurt them. But because he wished that he could affect them just as much as they affected him.

Draco hated to admit it, but Y/N was a constant thought in his mind. They had made home in his soul and his heart long ago, and yet, he meant nothing to them. Draco often watched them from afar. He admired how they interacted with anyone and everyone. Draco craved that kind of attention. He craved the good mornings and hellos that others around him were graced to from Y/N. He wished that he had never called them horrible names. That maybe if he never, had, they would have been friends. Or even something more. But Draco was a teenage boy, and even though he was a wizard, he still dealt with his feelings the same way most teenage boys do… he hid them.

Y/N simply looked Draco up and down as he sneered towards them. Quirking an eyebrow at the boy’s useless act to cause her fear, Y/N watched as the look on Draco’s face faltered and was replaced by a look they could only describe as nervousness. The longer they stared at Draco, the more nervous the boy became. So much so, his cheeks began to turn red. But it wasn’t nervousness Draco felt. It was embarrassment. Because the longer Y/N looked at him, the more he felt himself fall.

“Good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart off is... laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Neville, come up here, will you?”

Y/N pulled their gaze from Draco, as the class laughed at the conversation between Lupin and Neville. They watched as Neville nervously stepped forward. Leaning to try and hear what Professor Lupin whispered to the boy, Y/N watched as the wardrobe began to shake.

Lupin stepped to the side.

“Right then. Wands at the ready. One. Two. Three!”

Sparks shot from Professor Lupin’s wand. As they hit the doorknob, the wardrobe instantly opened to show a figure of Professor Snape crawling out. Y/N was surprised. They never really knew how terrifying Neville had found Snape. It must have been greatly if he feared him more than the woman who tortured his parents.

As Snape walked closer to Neville, they saw the boy falter with his wand.

“Come on Nev!”

Neville quickly glanced back at his friend. Y/N motioned their hand in the form of the incantation. Neville quickly looked back at Snape as he approached.

“Riddikulus!”

Suddenly, the figure of Snape transformed, as the man’s usual clothing was replaced with the ugliest outfit any of the students had ever seen. Instant laughter erupted around the room. Y/N covered their mouth as the laughter tumbled from their lips.

From behind them, Y/N heard Draco and his cronies grumble in annoyance. Rolling their eyes, the young wizard/witch chose to ignore them and instead focus on the hilarious figure in front.

As the class continue to laugh, Professor Lupin walked forward towards the gramophone. Placing the needle down, loud music filled the room, as the students looked at the teacher.

Spinning around, Professor Lupin pointed at Ron Weasley.

“Ron! Forward!”

The Gryffindor did as Lupin instructed; shakily stepping forward. The class watched in eager anticipation as the horrifically dressed Professor Snape’s figure twisted and twirled in the air. The mass of magic soon transformed into the largest spider any of them had ever seen. Shrieks could be heard from some of the students, as Ron quivered in his shoes. Y/N couldn’t help but look on fascinated at the sheer size of the creature.

Lupin quickly set Ron in a secure stance, tapping the boy on the shoulders. Y/N watched as Ron successfully produced the spell, causing the giant spider’s leg to be placed in roller skates.

Once again, the class erupted into laughter once more; with even the Slytherin’s letting out a chuckle or two. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Draco, seeing the platinum haired boy quickly wipe the smile off his face at the turn of her gaze.

“Alright everyone! Line up and remember, to keep laughing.”

Y/N eagerly lined up behind their classmates. Placed behind Dean Thomas, they looked around the tall boy to see what everyone was facing.

“Ready to face your fear, Y/L/N? Bet it is something ugly and grotesque, like yourself!”

Y/N glanced behind them to see Malfoy and his followers laughing at his jibe.

A look of indifference fell on Y/N’s face.

“I’ve had to deal with you for the past three years Malfoy. I’m sure whatever it is won’t be as horrid.”

Malfoy’s smirk dropped as he heard the students around him laugh at Y/N’s rebuttal.

Y/N turned back to see that they were up next, watching as Dean turned the giant cobra before him into a helium balloon version of itself. They couldn’t help but giggle at the silly creature.

High fiving Dean as he walked past, Y/N stepped forward and waited for the Boggart to take whatever form it wished.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to expect when the Boggart began to morph. They found many things frightening like heights or clowns. Even birds creeped them out. But what they weren’t prepared for was to see a hooded figure crying next to a hospital bed.

The class ceased their laughter as confusion fell amongst the students.

It wasn’t clear what was in the bed as the cover was draped over the figure completely. A loud continuous beep erupted from the machine next to the bed. Whatever, or whomever was lying there was dying.

Y/N stood still in their tracks as the figure next to the bed let out a heart-breaking sob. The cries grew louder and louder; filling the room.

Just as Y/N drew their wand to cast the incantation, the hooded figure lifted their head, and whipped their gaze to Y/N’s.

The words caught in their throat as Y/N looked into the eyes of themselves.

Draco pushed himself off the wall and walked closer to where Y/N stood, his worry for them coming to the surface.

Y/N couldn’t pull their eyes away from the boggart, feeling like they were relieving the worst day of their life all over again.

Professor Lupin soon realised that the boggart wasn’t being changed. Ready to step forward and take over, he was stopped by the young student walking towards the boggart and stood on the other side of the bed.

The class watched in bated breath, unsure of what was going to happen.

Suddenly, Y/N looked towards themself. Looking into their own grief-stricken eyes, they watched as the figure stood up and walked toward the life support.

“No don’t do that! Don’t turn it off!”

Before they could reach their own figure, the boggart turned off the life support. Y/N looked on in shock. Quickly turning their gaze down to their bed, Y/N saw the rise and fall of the sheet covered body stop.

Slowly, Y/N turned to face the boggart version of themselves, and before anyone could step in muttered the incantation.

“Reducto.”

Students shielded their eyes as the boggart disintegrated. Like I divine presence was in control, the record playing screeched to a halt and silence befell upon the class.

“I think that is all for today. You may leave, except for you Y/N. Can you stay for a moment?”

The class began to disperse out of the room, throwing confused and worried glances towards Y/N, who still stood staring at where the boggart once stood.

Draco stood still in his spot, contemplating whether to approach them or not. Before he could do so, Draco watched as Professor Lupin slowly and carefully escorted Y/N up into his office, closing the door behind them.

“Oi Draco, Crabbe and I are going to hex some first years before dinner. You coming?”

Draco tore his gaze from where Lupin escorted Y/N. Facing Goyle, Draco moved to step out of the classroom following the stupid Slytherin.

Y/N stood still in Lupin’s office, as though in a trance.

Lupin carefully walked around the student, moving objects around to make the room more spacious. He could tell that what had occurred was more than just a boggart.

“Would you like to discuss what happened?”

Y/N broke out of their daze and stared at the professor.

“There’s nothing to discuss Professor. I saw the boggart and failed to use the correct incantation. So, I apologise.”

Lupin shook his head at the person’s dismissal of the traumatic event that had just occurred. Moving to lean against the desk, Lupin took in the stoic nature of how Y/N stood. It was more than clear that what had happened was truly affecting them.

“What happened is nothing for you to apologise for. I am the one who has to ask for forgiveness. I did not step forward when needed to. You should not have to have seen or faced what you had.”

A distant look clouded over Y/N’s eyes. A look that Lupin knew all too well.

“Don’t worry Professor. It’s nothing I haven’t faced before. Now, may I be excused?”

Lupin knew better than to push the student. Nodding his head, he watched as Y/N walked to the door and exited his office without another word.

Walking down the corridors, Y/N took in the gaggles of students walking to the Great Hall for dinner. As they entered the Great Hall, Y/N moved to sit at their house table, when suddenly their path was blocked by Draco’s buffoons; Crabbe and Goyle.

“Finished crying, have we?”

The two boys snickered as Y/N just looked at them with no regard.

“Yes.”

Crabbe and Goyle were thrown of at Y/N’s truthfulness. Shaking it off, the boys continued to jibe the person in front of them.

“Now tell us mudblood, who was it dead on the bed? I bet Crabbe it was your blood traitor of a mother. He thinks it was your worthless muggle father.”

Y/N wished they had stayed in Lupin’s office because then what would occur would probably never have happened/

Y/N stepped forward to and gave the pair a venomous look.

Crabbe and Goyle ceased their laughter, freezing in fear at the stare they were held under.

“The next time you think about calling my father or mother names, it’ll be you both dead on a slab. You got it?”

The pair silently nodded their heads and watched as Y/N walked around them, continuing to walk to their seat.

“Whoever it was, I bet they’re more than glad they don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

At the sound of their words, Y/N whipped around, pulling their wand out of their robes in a frenzy.

“Aguamenti!”

A flourish of water sprayed out the end of Y/N’s wand, instantly knocking the boys to the floor. Students around them screeched as they moved out the way of the spraying water. Y/N could hear those around them laughing at Crabbe and Goyle’s misfortune, but they didn’t care. Y/N would not allow anyone to disrespect their family in any way.

“Y/Fu/N!”

Ignoring the shout of their name, Y/N continued to spray water at the two boys. Pushing them further and further back, Y/N neglected the presence of the tears falling from their eyes. Watching as Crabbe and Goyle unsuccessfully tried to fight against the sprays of water, Y/N felt nothing but rage.

“Finite Incantatem!”

Suddenly, the water ceased spraying from the end of Y/N’s wand. Turning to give a piece of their mind to whomever stopped them, Y/N’s words ceased once they saw the Head of Slytherin house behind them.

The glare shooting into their own stare would have usually petrified them, but the emotion of the days was already clouding their mind. Before Y/N could defend their actions, they felt a sharp tug on their forearm.

Students watched in silence as Professor Snape dragged Y/N out the hall; Draco being among them. He had witnessed Y/N attack Crabbe and Goyle. It seemed his wish of Y/N being affected by the words from he and his friends had come true. But at what cost? Them being dragged away before Draco could even do what he had planned to do; step in and be heroic? The minute he saw his two idiotic friends approach Y/N, he knew that whatever they were going to say would not be positive. Draco was ready to walk over and stop them, but before he knew it, they were on the floor, drenched, and coughing up water. He had missed his chance to help once more.

As Madame Pomfrey rushed into the Great Hall, Draco followed the nurse and Professor McGonagall as they escorted Crabbe and Goyle to the hospital wing. While many would have thought he was accompanying his friends to see how they were, the minute Draco left the Great Hall he headed in the opposite direction; to where he knew Snape would have taken Y/N.

Y/N knew that their actions were irresponsible but after the day they had, they truly could not care if they were even kicked out of Hogwarts. They were scarred from the Boggart incident earlier on in the day and angered by Crabbe and Goyle’s horrible words. The day had just been too much to handle.

Snape continued to pull Y/N down corridors, weaving through the different paths around the castle before he reached his desired destination. Y/N obviously recognised the professor’s classroom as they approached the door.

Forcefully, Snape pulled the student into the classroom.

“Sit.”

They did not have the will to fight back at this moment in time. Feeling the exhaustion from what had just occurred, Y/N took a seat on the stool behind them; hardly having enough energy and strength to hold up their own body. The tears continuing to flow in rivers down their tear-stained cheeks; pooling in the creases of their hands which barely held their head up. What Y/N had seen had truly wrecked them, but what Goyle had said was what broke the dam.

“Now, enlighten me Y/L/N. What bewitched you to try and drown two members of my house?”

Y/N rolled their eyes. Of course, that was all Snape cared about.

“Do not roll your eyes at me child. Answer the question.”

“It was simple misunderstanding Professor.”

Snape rolled his eyes at the student’s attempt at dismissing the subject.

“Well, it must have been something for you to not only cause harm to your fellow students, but to nearly flood the Great Hall and now sit in my classroom and cry about it.”

“Like I said. It was nothing Professor.”

Before Snape could retort back once more, a knock came from the door.

Both Y/N and Snape turned to face the archway as they watched Draco open the classroom door.

“What is it Draco?”

Draco’s eyes flittered between the pair. He saw the tears that had stained Y/N’s face and the grimace on Snape’s.

“Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you. He said it was concerning the events of last week’s full moon.”

Snape glared towards Draco and headed towards the door.

Turning to face Y/N as he stands in the doorway, Snape pointed at the student.

“Do not leave this room. You will face the consequences for your actions when I get back.”

As Snape whisked his cape in a flourish and strode down the corridors, Y/N couldn’t help the scoff that emitted from their throat at the man’s over the top departure.

Draco stood in the doorway and watched as Y/N wiped away the tears. He wanted to help them. He wanted to help them with all he had in him. Seeing them cry felt what Draco could only describe as his heart breaking. It consumed him with guilt that the people who he associated himself with had hurt Y/N. But, yet, he knew, that the words he has said in the past have been just as horrible too. Except he had never seen the words affect them. Until now.

Y/N felt Draco’s presence still in the room. They could make out his figure standing in the archway of the classroom, watching them. Staring at them as they continued to wipe away their tears. They weren’t in the mood for anymore bullshit.

“Don’t even start with your pathetic, sarcastic comments Malfoy. Your cronies have done more than enough today.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but before even a breath left his tongue, Y/N pointed their wand towards him.

“I swear to Merlin Malfoy, leave me alone for fuck sake!”

Draco watched as the tears continued to fall down their face, tracing their blotchy cheeks, and falling into the curve of their neck, below their crumpled collar. He wanted to help.

Moving towards the potion cabinet, Draco searched through the shelves.

“What are you doing?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco continued to search the cabinets.

“Malfoy, what-”

“Will you be patient? And put that wand down for Merlin’s sake, I am trying to help.”

Y/N slowly lowered their wand. Placing the wand on the table, Y/N threaded their hands through their hair and leaned their elbows on the surface in front of them. Their body felt more and more heavy as the seconds went by. Like the weight of what they had seen and done had been placed around their neck and was dragging them further and further into the depths of despair.

Draco couldn’t stand seeing them like this, so he worked as quickly as he possibly could. Grasping the necessary ingredients, Draco positioned himself on the stool diagonally from Y/N and began working on the potion at hand.

As the smell of lavender washed over the room, Y/N carefully lifted their head to see Draco stirring a mixture in the boiling hot cauldron. He concentrated on his work in silence, giving Y/N the chance to stare.

While Draco thought Y/N saw him as nothing but one of the other students in the school, as a speck in their life, he was terribly wrong. Y/N noticed Draco much more than he realised. They noticed how much he cared about his studies, how he truly enjoyed potions the most. They noticed how he always started the day by eating eggs on toast for breakfast, just a different form of egg every day. They also noticed that even though he and his friends called them names, he unconsciously winced every time a horrible word was said towards them; like it hurt to even hear such things directing their way. Y/N also noticed how when the boggart had shifted into what she had seen earlier that Draco stepped forward and unconsciously held his wand tighter. She just didn’t understand why.

Continuing to stare, Y/N watched as Draco meticulously dissected the crocodile heart to his side, putting the necessary amount in the cauldron. Once he had done so, Draco mixed in the drops of peppermint needed and stirred the potion until completed. Pouring his creation into a bottle, Draco grabbed a piece of parchment, and teared a small piece off. Writing on the scrap piece, Draco tied it to the bottle and placed it on the table.

Draco slid the bottle across the table until it was in front of Y/N.

“What is this?”

“It’s a Calming Draught. You can take it for whenever you suffer shock, trauma, or an emotional outburst. You’ve already calmed down mostly so only take a few drops. But if you ever need to calm down quickly, take a large gulp. There’s enough there to last a while.”

Y/N’s eyes drifted from Draco to the bottle he had placed before them. They still felt the dried tears on their face and the tension in their body. They knew that continuing to think about what they saw would just cause them to cry more. Grabbing the bottle, Y/N did as Draco instructed, and poured a couple of small drops onto their tongue.

Instantly, as if the most soothing wave had rushed over them, Y/N felt calm. The tension in their back eased as they breathed a sigh of relief. No longer did tears pool at their eyes at the thought of what happened. They could only feel serenity, and at that moment, they were extremely grateful to feel only that.

At the sight of Y/N visibly relaxing, Draco himself felt the tension from his shoulders leave. Happy that he had actually helped as he desired to, Draco stood from his seat and began to put away the ingredients.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. Draco had always been irritable towards them. Making snide and awful remarks, but, as they had realised, it seemed it always hurt the boy to do so.

“Thank you, Draco.”

Draco paused for a split second as he held the jar on the shelf. He quickly continued to put the ingredients away.

“I’ve written instructions on how to further take the potion. You will most likely need to use it again if you find the memories of today too much.”

Draco turned back to face where Y/N sat.

Whilst he saw that they had calmed significantly thanks to the potion, he still saw an aura of sadness surrounding them.

“I’ve lived with that memory long enough to get used to it. But I still appreciate your kindness.”

Draco clenched and unclenched his fingers. The boy wanted to ask further questions about what she meant. However, he felt he was in no place to do so.

As Draco successfully packed away the items, he swiftly walked towards the door, ready to leave.

“You can tell Crabbe and Goyle that neither of them has won their little bet.”

Draco stopped in his steps. Confusion fell upon him.

“What bet?”

Y/N swung their legs as they sat on the stool, fiddling with the string of the potion in front of them.

“Crabbe thought it was my, in his words, ‘blood traitor of a mother’ who was on the hospital bed. Goyle said it was my ‘worthless muggle for a father’. They were both wrong.”

Draco was unaware of the exact words that Crabbe and Goyle had said to Y/N. Now that he had heard them, Draco wished he had his own supply of Calming Draught, as what Y/N did to them was in no means near how bad Draco was ready to deal with the pair.

Draco stepped closer to Y/N.

“What did you mean when you said you have lived with the memory long enough?”

Y/N ceased fiddling with the string in front of them. Turning to look at Draco, she saw a look that she never thought would be directed at her by the Slytherin Prince. He looked concerned. Almost sad to hear their words.

“For a lot of people, their boggart is something like a person or a creature. Mine’s more of something I had to do. I had no choice and I live with that every day of my life. I live with the fact that I had to turn off my brother’s life support as I was the only person he had left. He was all I had left. Now, it’s just me, myself, and I. Has been for a while.”

Draco was at loss for words. He could not imagine being without his parents or to have to lose someone so close to him.

“What happened to him?”

Y/N looked down at their lap.

“Accident at work.”

Draco moved forward until he was near the stool next to Y/N. Slowly taking a seat, he watched in case they chastised his actions. They stayed quiet.

“When did he pass?”

Y/N could feel the tears coming back. But they knew if they continued to bottle it up, that they would just react how they had before. Draco might have not been who they thought they were opening up to, but this was a day of surprising events.

Y/N flashed a watery smile to Draco as they sniffled their nose.

“Um, about a week after I started first year. He was nineteen and had just gotten a job as an Aura. One of the youngest ever to be one. He was apprehending a dark wizard when he was hit with a spell that I have no clue of. He was in muggle London and was found by a muggle who called an ambulance. If he was taken to hospital in the wizarding world he would have survived. But I can’t blame the person who called the ambulance. They didn’t know about magic. They did what they thought was best. I did what I thought was best too.”

Draco reached out to hold their hand. Just as his fingers grazed theirs, Y/N pulled their hand away. Confusion laced their features.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Why am I telling you this?”

“I don’t know either.”

Y/N stared at Draco, taking in his figure. He didn’t look like the confident, arrogant Slytherin that roamed the halls. He looked soft. Breakable like porcelain. Like if enough pressure would be forced on him, he would shatter into a million pieces. Draco looked how Y/N felt.

“Why did you help me Draco?”

There was so much Draco wanted to say. He wanted to tell Y/N how much he truly hated the horrible things he had said towards them. How he longed to have them say hello and good morning to him like they did to everyone else. How he was standing so close to them in DADA class earlier because he wanted to take down the boggart for them. How he was about to hex Crabbe and Goyle himself before they did. He wanted to say all this and so much more.

“I’ve always wanted to help you. I finally had the chance to now.”

Right as Y/N was about to ask Draco what he meant, the door to the classroom swung open once more. The pair watched as Snape walked through the door, his cape billowing behind him as always.

Snape looked up towards where Y/N sat to continue reprimanding the student. He ceased in his steps once he saw how close they and Draco were sitting. That their hands were inches apart. One look in Draco’s eyes and he saw himself at that age. Hopelessly falling into a feeling, he never stopped falling in to.

“Leave.”

Draco went to stand without an argument.

“The both of you.”

Y/N looked at the Professor.

“But I-.”

Snape whipped to glare at Y/N.

“I have greater matters to deal with than your hormonal outburst child. Now, both of you head to your dorms before curfew or I’ll have you both in detention for a month.”

Without a second glance, Y/N stood from their seat and followed Draco out of the classroom. The pair continued to walk in silence down the corridor. As they arrived at the moving staircase, Y/N noted that this would be where they departed. Just as Draco moved to walk down the steps, he felt a pressure on his arm. Turning around, Draco watched as Y/N stepped towards him. He could feel their breathe on his face. Draco Malfoy had never been so stunned for words.

“Thank you, Draco.”

As their eyes stayed interlocked, Y/N moved their hand from Draco’s arm and slid it down to hold his own. Giving the boys hand a squeeze, they let got, and moved to head up the staircase without another word.

Draco watched as Y/N strode up the staircase and passed a corridor. He watched until he could no longer see them. Looking down at his hand, he clenched and unclenched his digits, feeling the ghost of a touch that was there for a fleeting second.

Facing back to the stairs, Draco walked down them, heading to the dungeons. Just as he was about to pass the hospital wing, a sudden though came to mind. If Crabbe and Goyle thought they were spending the afternoon in there, they would think again. After Draco would be done with them, they were going to be in there for a week.

While Draco could be sweet and kind for Y/N, he was still the Slytherin Prince after all.

#harry potter #draco #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #tom felton #tom felton imagine

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bubblesuga · 4 years

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Cool For The Summer

Prompt: Co-counselor and existential pain in your ass Jeon Jungkook really, really likes you. And your tits.

A/N: My first JK one shot! It’s shorter than I wanted but I wanted to write something while I had a couple days off. Hope y’all enjoy!! xx (side note: should I do a series where all of the members are counselors??)

Warnings: cussing, smut (no penetration... besides fingering), oral (m and f receiving), tit fucking (?), exhibitionism

Ah, Summer...

Of course, everyone loves Summer. The trees are a gorgeous bright green, the smell of the flowers fill your nose, and the sounds of the river flowing over the rocks beneath your feet soothes you.

Well, it did when you were a kid.

Returning to your old camp as an adult has been, to put it lightly, one of the weirdest experiences you have ever had. When you heard that they needed camp counselors, you were one of the first to sign up. The idea that you could relive your childhood while also helping children make memories sounded amazing to you, so you were extremely happy when you got the call that you were hired.

What you didn’t seem to expect was the fact that children were annoying, and even more annoying? Your overly-ambitious-yet-extremely-introverted co-counselor, Jungkook. Or maybe you were just annoyed that you were so attracted to him.

He always seemed to be in the wrong places at the wrong time. More specifically, when you were hosting arts and crafts for the 10-12 age group, and Jungkook decided it was a good idea to lead his group of 6-8 year olds through your group while they chased him with water balloons.

Sure, he apologized afterward, but not before inadvertently ruining every single art project your kids had been working on.

So now that you leaned against the counter at the snack station, you watched Jungkook carefully as he pretended to be a tiger and growled at the younger kids, laughing as he heard them squeal and tackle him to the ground. He was good with the kids, there was absolutely no doubt about it. With that being said, why did he always stutter his way through a conversation with you? He seemed to talk with so much ease to everyone else, were you really that intimidating to him?

Admittedly, you did yell pretty loudly at him a few days when the pink water balloon burst against your chest and splashed onto your canvas. You had never seen someone turn to red so fast, the sight of your blue bra sticking against your white shirt causing him to blush as your arms flew up to cover yourself.

The bad part was the fact that you did find him cute, in more ways than one. Him being good with kids was attraction number one, and number two was the way he laughed as the other counselors told stories and jokes around the campfire. On top of that, he was so damn attractive. His hands were big, and when you ended up sharing a canoe one day, you couldn’t help but watch the way his biceps flexed under the thin white t-shirt of his counselor uniform as he rowed the boat with ease.

“Hello, Earth to _____?” another one of your co-counselors, Jimin, waved his hand in front of your face, breaking you out of your red themed day dream.

You turned to him, blinking away your thoughts, “What’s going on?”

“What were you thinking about?” Jimin asked, a smirk on his face as he followed your earlier line of sight, “Still mad about what happened on Tuesday?”

You groaned, “I just don’t understand how he can be so... so...”

“Cute? Devastatingly handsome? Some other word girls use when they have a crush on a guy?” Jimin spoke, his voice raising a few octaves to mock some gossip he had heard before.

“No,” you shut him down, your eyes turning to slits, “so... annoying. I mean, look at him!”

Jimin glanced back over to where Jungkook was, now watching as Taehyung stomped over to him and began to pull the kids off of him to ‘save’ Jungkook. “Oh, yeah. Playing with the children, doing his job. So annoying.”

You grabbed a granola bar from behind the snack counter, unwrapping it and taking a bite before speaking again, “You’re no help.”

“I never claimed to be,” he grinned, “Look, if you just admit that you like the guy I’m sure you’re Summer will be a hell of a lot better.”

You nearly choked, “And why exactly do you say that?”

Jimin didn’t respond. He only smiled, grabbing the granola bar out of your hand and walked away with it. Your jaw dropped, your eyes trailing after him in a silent attempt to get him to come back with an answer.

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at your watch and sighed, “Okay, kiddies! Play time is over! Make your way over to your cabins so we can start count then you can all get ready for bed!”

Audible protests were heard from all the kids, though one voice was much deeper than the rest. In the center of the courtyard, Jungkook joined the kids in their groans of protests, earning some laughs as he stomped his foot for added dramatic affect.

“You too, Jungkook! Get to counting!” You yell, grabbing your clipboard and making your way over to your cabin.

When all the kids were put to sleep, albeit not without a fight, that left you and the rest of the counselors to finally have some adult time.

As usual, most counselors decided to get some separate work done or relax seeing as this was the only time they could get to themselves. Tonight, you found yourself sitting out by the dimming fire with a beer in your hand. You weren’t supposed to bring alcohol with you, but when you heard that Yoongi had some stashed away, you were quick to beg him for some. You needed to unwind somehow.

The crackling of the fire helped further your relaxation, and you stared up into the sky, glad that the stars were so visible.

“S’ pretty.” A voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and try to slip your beer beneath your jacket as quickly as you could. You whipped around to the culprit, spotting a bright smile and crinkled nose. Sighing, you pulled your beer back out and took another sip.

“Yeah, the night sky is always pretty.” The beer wasn’t strong enough to have much of an effect on you, but when Jungkook slipped beside you, you immediately felt intoxicated. You weren’t sure if it was the smell of his cologne or the close proximity of him beside you, but butterflies swarmed in your belly.

He didn’t say anything as he sat beside you, leaning back on the long you were resting your head on and sticking his bare feet out to be warmed by the fire.

You advert your attention back to the sky, picking out the constellations you could see and listening to the soft breathing of Jungkook beside you.

After a moment, you swallowed, “So how come you’re not in your cabin?”

“Jimin said something about wanting to be alone for a little bit and basically kicked me out.” Jungkook explained, stretching his arms upward.

Damn it, Jimin.

“Ah, did you piss him off?” You decide to ignore the fact that Jimin definitely did this on purpose.

“I don’t think so,” He signed softly, “I think he might be a bit overwhelmed. Him and Hoseok are teaching a dance tomorrow and he still hasn’t come up with one to teach.”

You knew Jimin was lying, because you had seen him and Hoseok practicing the dance earlier, which further confirmed your suspicion of Jimin kicking him out on purpose.

“Oh,” you said softly, offering your beer to Jungkook. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, looking at your questioningly. You rolled your eyes, “I promise I don’t have mono.”

“That’s not what- I wasn’t worried about that,” Jungkook said, “I just thought you hated me. Y’know, for what happened the other day.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, seeing Jungkook nibble on the inside of his cheek anxiously. The fact that he was genuinely sorry for it warmed your heart. It wasn’t that big of a deal in the long run, Jungkook made it up to the kids by buying them all ice cream sandwiches so none of them held a grudge. The only thing that you had been annoyed about was your white t-shirt becoming see-through.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered, watching Jungkook’s shocked expression as you grabbed his hand and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle, “I was just frustrated that my favorite bra got wet.”

Jungkook sipped from the beer, his mouth wrapping around the edge of the bottle, small dimples forming at the corners of his lips. “Is blue your favorite color?”

You laughed loudly, not expecting such a casual question from him. Jungkook’s cheeks turned red while he grinned in response to your laughter, the sound filling his ears like music.

“No, no,” you quieted down your laughter for fear of waking some of the kids, “It’s just a cute bra. Fits me well.”

“It does.” Jungkook responded, his eyes going wide as he realized he said that out loud.

Again, you laughed, “You mean to tell me you were looking at my chest, Jungkook?”

Panic rushed through Jungkook as he slipped a little further away from you as subtly as he possibly could, unsure of how to respond to you. Of course he was looking at your chest, the black crystal necklace that hung just above your clevage always captivated him, but he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to trail just a touch bit further. You were just too gorgeous to deny.

“I- no! I just-” He stuttered, gasping as you cut him off.

“I’m just teasing. I don’t mind you looking at my chest.” You shrugged, adding the last part quietly as you slugged more beer down. Maybe it was having an affect on you.

“You don’t?”

You shook your head, turning to look at the older boy again. He swallowed softly, allowing his eyes to fully fall down to your chest. He hoped you weren’t teasing him again, because the thought of fucking your breasts had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. Though he’d never admit it, unless you wanted him to.

Sensing his gaze, you pressed your breasts together, tugging at the collar of your shirt, “Do you like them, Jungkook?”

He met your eyes again, giving a slow nod.

An idea rushed through your head. A stupid idea, probably the dumbest you have ever had, but you couldn’t stop yourself. As if in slow motion, you crawled over to him, feeling the grass beneath your legs before you straddled Jungkook’s thighs carefully. You gauged his reaction, unable to hold back a giggle as he stared up at you with his jaw dropped.

“Do you want to see them?” You asked softly. You almost felt like you were back in high school, seeing as Jungkook’s reaction was that of a teenager seeing his first pair of boobs in person. You found his hesitation cute, only being able to watch you in awe as you tugged your shirt over your head slowly.

Sure enough, that blue bra you love so much pushed your breasts together, the necklace falling into the top of your cleavage. Jungkook was overwhelmed with the feeling of your knees on either side of him, and the sight of your almost bare torso in front of him.

“Can I touch?” He questioned in a whisper, and you almost moaned at the sight of his hands coming up to your chest but stopping just short of touching them.

“Please.” You breathed, inhaling as his large hands kneaded your breasts gently in between his hands.

Instantly, you felt his thighs relax beneath you. You rested against him, leaning your forehead against his. Jungkook’s bravery grew ten-fold, craning his neck upward and smashing his lips onto yours.

You gasped at the feeling of his lips against yours, your hands flying to cup his jaw. Though you didn’t expect the kiss, you were pleasantly surprised with the amount of force behind it. His hands moved from your chest to your back, silently asking for permission to unclasp your bra.

You pressed your lips harder in approval, Jungkook’s nimble fingers cool against your skin as he unclasped your bra one by one. Slowly, and without breaking the kiss, Jungkook slid the straps of your bra down your arms.

The cool taste of the beer laced both of your tongues, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip while your bra was finally removed.

Jungkook only broke the kiss to finally see your breasts. His face was now flushed, his hips flexing beneath yours at the sight of your nipples perking beneath the cool air of the Summer night.

“Gorgeous.” Jungkook breathed, “better than I imagined.”

The husk in his voice shot arousal straight to your core. Instinctively, you ground your hips hard against his, “You imagined this?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, “wanna fuck them, wanna cum on them.”

Jungkook was a different person now that you were on top of him, the earlier hesitation completely gone. You let out a soft moan when Jungkook tugged at your nipples.

He was hardening beneath your heat, twitching against you.

“Do it.” You finally say, smashing your lips onto his again.

Jungkook removed his hands from your body, pulling his own shirt over his head and laying it down in the grass. You tilted your head questioningly, following his lead as he moved you to lay down on his shirt. You smiled, unable to contain your giddiness.

Now he hovered above you, his shirtless body delicious in the light of the fire. He was quick to press kisses down your neck, nibbling and biting on your collarbone, until he found his way to your breasts again. He laid hickeys across both of them, then taking your left nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.

Your back arched and a loud moan fell from your lips. Jungkook pulled away with a soothing lick, “You have to be quiet, baby. You can’t let anyone know we’re out here.”

You met his eyes, nodding obediently as his fingers moved to tug your leggings down your legs.

“I thought you wanted to...” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed to say what he wanted to do. The role reversal was prominent, but you weren’t complaining. You enjoyed seeing Jungkook like this.

Jungkook spotted the pink dusting your cheeks, “I will, but I want to make sure you feel good first.”

With that, Jungkook pulled your leggings from around your hips, taking your panties along with them. The cool air hit your head quickly, and you began to scramble to cover yourself, only for Jungkook to catch your wrists in one hand and spread your legs apart with the other.

You glistened underneath the moonlight, a shiver running up your spine as Jungkook bent his head down to level with your core, his eyes peaking just above your pelvis. You couldn’t see his mouth, but you could still tell he was smirking.

“Pretty,” he chuckled, “so pretty.”

He stuck his tongue out, licking a long strip up your heat until he stopped at your clit, watching as you squirmed beneath him. Your hand was quick to fly up to your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries of pleasure, and Jungkook mentally high-fived himself as you did so.

The feeling of his tongue against you was so euphoric that you didn’t know what do to. He groaned against your core when your other hand found it’s way to his hair, tugging at it while you ground your hips to gain as much friction as possible.

“Jung- fuck- Kookie, more. Please, more.” You begged, your nails scratching gently against his scalp in an attempt to encourage him.

Silently, he brought his fingers down to your sex, pressing his middle finger in and curling it upward. You lurched forward at the feeling of him immediately finding all the right places to touch, his tongue still lapping ferociously at your clit.

Slowly beginning to coax you to an orgasm, he slipped his ring finger in beside his middle, your smooth and velvety walls surrounding him deliciously. He couldn’t wait to see what you would feel like around his cock.

Finally, you felt yourself begin to tighten around his fingers, your mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ shape. You were so close, and you were so ready.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moan out, much louder than you intended but unable to keep quiet as Jungkook sped up the movements of his tongue and pressed hard to your g-spot.

White spotted your vision as you came undone, Jungkook staring deeply into your eyes, his own darkened with lust while he allowed you to ride out your high on his fingers. Feeling your release against his tongue, he licked you clean, careful not to overstimulate you in the process. No, that would be an adventure for another night.

When you finally managed to open your eyes again, Jungkook now hovered over you. Gently, you reached your hand up to wipe his bottom lip with your thumb, collecting your arousal and slipping your thumb into your mouth. His eyes shined at the sight of your movements.

Jungkook was never one to shy away from showing his arousal to his partner, and you enjoyed the fucked out expression on his face even though you had barely touched him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook moaned, “do you feel good?”

“Yes, baby,” you grinned, “now it’s you’re turn.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, allowing you to push him onto his back. You were quick to undo his belt, tugging his jeans down his thighs and over his knees. He wore tight, black boxers, his cock straining against the material, begging to be touched.

His breathing had picked up significantly in the last few seconds, and you suddenly felt a hell of a lot braver than before. “Tell me what you want.”

The demand shocked Jungkook, his mouth going dry while your fingers ghosted over the length of his cock. Gentle caresses, the tips of your fingers stimulating Jungkook in a way that he had never felt before. It felt so... sensual. The most he had gotten was a quick fuck by some random girl in the bar, but this, he liked this a lot.

“Touch me. More, please.” Jungkook spoke, so lowly you almost couldn’t hear him.

You gave him a slow nod, pulling his boxers down and seeing his cock bounce upward, fully erect and twitching with anticipation.

Jungkook gasped as you took him into his mouth, his eyes glancing through the trees and to the cabins to make sure that no one was watching. He was hesitant to watch you suck his cock, he was sure the sight of it would cause him to cum much quicker than he wanted to.

It felt so good, though. Your tongue flicked against the underside of his cock, against the pulsing vein, causing Jungkook to whip his head towards you.

He couldn’t look away, though, because the sight of you consuming him whole was enough to fuel his day dreams for the rest of his life. “Oh god, you take me so well.”

His quiet moans of encouragement were enough to send you into a frenzy, his hands flying to your hair and gathering it up in his hands, gently guiding you up and down his shaft.

“You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed with my cock.” His hips flexed upward, effectively gagging you.

You popped off of him with a grin and took a deep breath, using your hand to stroke him. You couldn’t help but crawl up his body, your hand not leaving him and pressing your lips to his. Jungkook moaned into your mouth when he felt you give a particularly harsh tug, the pain and pleasure mixing together in harmony.

“I’m going to cum soon if you don’t stop.” Jungkook strangled out, gritting his teeth together when he felt your thumb smear his precum around his tip.

“Mm,” you moaned, “but I want you to cum.”

Jungkook pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, before biting down, “Wanna cum on your tits.”

You felt your core heat yet again at his request, hearing him whine when you pulled your hand away from his cock.

Laying back down on his shirt, Jungkook moved to straddle your waist. His abs flexed every time his body brushed yours, and shivers running up his spine as he did so, and you could tell that he was really close.

Jungkook pushed your tits together, his cock slick enough with your saliva that he was able to slip through them easily.

You watched in awe as he threw his head back, slowly thrusting his cock against you. Every time the head peaked out the top, you kitten licked more precum that dripped out, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Jesus- fuck-” Jungkook stuttered, before releasing onto your chest and neck.

His eyes screwed shut in the process, his hands letting go of your tits and riding out his high. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked down at your chest, a surge of head rushing through his body at the sight.

You were splayed out before him, covered in his cum, lust and adoration in your eyes.

Jungkook leaned down, and you prepared yourself for a kiss but were instead surprised by Jungkook’s tongue collecting his cum from your tits. Then he kissed you.

You eagerly consumed him, your hands flying to his neck to hold him as closely as possible.

“That was amazing.” Jungkook said against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”

“What took you so long?” You questioned teasingly.

Jungkook shrugged, “Why else did you think I messed with you so much? You’re sexy when you’re annoyed. Every time I saw you roll your eyes, I wanted to kiss your frustration away.”

You rose an eyebrow, “So you ruined the art projects on purpose?”

“No, no. I told the kids just to hit you. The rest was an accident.” He shrugged, causing you to scoff jokingly.

Then you two laid there for a moment in silence, the crackling of the fire and the crickets chirping in the night almost lulling you to sleep.

“Should we get dressed before someone sees us?” He whispered, sitting up.

You sighed, “How about a dip in the lake first? I mean... I need to get cleaned up somehow.”

Jungkook didn’t have a chance to respond before he saw you running to the lake, your figure silhouetted by the moonlight. It accentuated every curve of yours, and Jungkook could feel himself getting hard again.

Needless to say, you two had a lot of fun in the lake that night.

#oof i've been up all night so if this is a shit show i apologize #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader smut #bts x reader #bts #bts smut

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ca-crisisaverted · 3 years

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"Don't give me any of that shitty pity! I don't wanna fucking hear it! Not from a single one of you! And there's no point in me leaving any final fucking words because I'm sure as hell you're all going to rot away in this fucking cruise ship!"

"I don't fucking care if you feel so damn disrespected! Or if you want to fucking understand me! No one's done that in their whole goddamn life for me so I don't see how you're gonna make any difference! Especially now! And you-"

"I just wanted off of this damn ship! I just wanted to go home! Away from all of you fucking pieces of shit!"

"MOTHER! FATHER! WAIT!"

Justice was always a word that varied. Justice meant many things to many people, but at the end of the day, and at the end of a murder case, it was clear that little was anything close to just. As the secrets of the group had come out one by one, the shadowy's imposter's mere presence and nature was more than enough to motive the true killer, Junbi Nakahara, into action. Wanting to watch someone of whom seemed to be such a threat, their looming presence and paranoia was enough to push the former Yori into action, themselves. Through a masquerade dance of masks, lies, and misunderstandings, multiple traps ended up being laid, including the one that Sachie Himemiya was found in at the scene of the crime. Junbi decided they wanted to stop the shadowy imposter before they could do any harm, but the imposter decided to do just what they feared.

Moving into action and harming Yuriko Futamata in the process, their shadowy form eventually ended up in the laser tag arena, where they'd meet their final fate. Next to an unconscious Sachie, of whom Junbi acted on upon believing her to be the imposter in disguise, the shadowy creature took its true form, and with an attack on the prop maker....was simply popped, and slain, like an angry balloon. A shapeshifter didn't have very much experience with being harmed, apparently. And with an angry sprout now the killer of which many they'd despised, they only had one thing on their mind....escape. Home.

A horrible cruel execution, once more. A killing game had no justice, nor for the heroes, or the villains. Things were never black and white. And as the group left with an especially chilling sight fresh in their memories, with even less numbers among them than before...the question remained. Of when there'd be home, once more. Of how long this would go on. And...of who, or what, would happen next. Chapter Three Art Credit Trial Three, by Sidney Chapter Three Splash, by Pip Junbi Execution, sketches by Ysther, lines by Sidney, colors by Isa

#crisis averted #fanganronpa #fangan rp #fangan oc #danganronpa rp #danganronpa oc #danganronpa

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fabianocolucci · 3 years

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I have no idea what is my mind going to tell me: I could end up talking about wild pterodactyls, or about those damned Missipipì hillbillies.

I know, Missipipì doesn’t exists, but the sentence wasn’t even mine!

Anyway, let us proceed.

How do you think a sport car driver must feel, as he races at 200 miles per hour on the asphalt? And what about high jumpers, who appear so towering?

How does a seagull feel as it flies too close to the water?

Why do cells multiply by dividing themselves?

I would really like to ride a camel on the legendary desert where everything is possible, but also on the mountains that detach you from every problem with their thick white fog.

Trust me when I tell you how a snake made turned being armless into a harmless form of art, and that the willow weeps because it’s simple to become sad when leaves turn dry and let themselves be carries away by the wind.

What about following me on a hot air balloon and land near the Longmen grottoes?

That said, I proceed typing without order on my dark computer keyboard, so that I could produce the necessary words that could conclude this, of which no one felt the need.

#random thoughts #random post #what's going on #what is this #flow #let it flow #poetry #writeblr

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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

One-Shots and Story Hooks

One thing Ravnica campaigns are rarely without is conflict. On a good day, somewhere between nine and ten of the Guilds will be having an issue with one another in some way, shape, or form. This is good for adventuring parties because it means there’s always something to do. While coming up with a session can literally be as simple as picking two Guilds and building off their general reasons for not liking each other (which is as easy as picking a fight on the internet), sometimes you need help. You need something to kickstart those creative ideas again.

Fortunately, the artists over at Wizards of the Coast have had over a dozen sets/releases to craft not just the main storyline of Ravnica, but unique little one-offs as well. They come with absolutely stellar artwork to help build the atmosphere of the City of Guilds, and wonderful bits of flavor text that are prime jumping-off points for your story ideas.

So here are four story hooks taken straight from Ravnica cards to incorporate into your campaign. You don’t have to follow these prompts exactly, but if they spark some ideas of your own, run with them.

Watchwolf

Ravnica can be lonely & intimidating for a Druid. With so much of the world made up of pavement and skyline, one’s connection with nature can feel like a long-distance relationship. You’d be hard-pressed to find a tree outside the Conclave without venturing into Rubblebelt territory. Furthermore, what animals do inhabit the big city have been almost unilaterally conscripted into service by one Guild or another. Azorius hawks, Boros hounds, Gruul boars, Selesnya cattle; to say nothing of the terrifying creations churned out from Guilds like the Simic, Orzhov, or Rakdos.

Even the rats seem to have loyalties.

I was browsing a Tin Street stall for watermelon seeds when I saw it. A wolf, staring right at me from a bridge nearby. I looked around but didn’t see anyone it seemed to belong to. Boros dogs wear armor, Ledev dire wolves are never without their rider, and if it was Gruul it would almost certainly have some sort of clan markings. Could it be a wild one?

Noticing my gaze, the wolf made its way over to me. It avoided the crowd with a comfort you don’t see in wild animals. This wolf definitely belonged to someone in the city.

A few of the merchants were staring at us. Even if it was trained, it was definitely making them nervous. The wolf nipped & tugged at my tunic with its mouth. Not with aggression, but with urgency. Spend enough time with animals, you learn to spot the difference. I bought my seeds, tipped the shopkeep generously, and brought the wolf to a quieter part of the city to speak with it.

Who are you?

Watcher

A watcher? Curious.

What do you need, Watcher?

Help

What help do you need?

Lost

You’re lost?

Watcher shook his muzzle.

Where’s your owner, Watcher?

Taken

Taken? Taken by whom?

Watcher told me.

A what?

Role Reversal

This was definitely one for the books. Even for the Senate, seeing a Sphinx up close is extremely rare. Seeing one at your desk filing a complaint about another Sphinx is unheard of.

“They are Uthlon the Wise. A model among their peers for stoicism, moderation, and sound judgement.”

“And you’re filing a complaint against Uthlon for....”

I checked my notebook.

“....Getting drunk and painting rude words on the temple of Azor.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll look into it.”

I expected a response. There’s always a response when people get angry enough to file a complaint. However, instead of shouting or threats, the Sphinx Agammemnos stepped back from my desk and perched down a few feet away. They were really going to wait there until I looked into this. My lunch was sitting an arm’s reach away. I sighed deeply. I hated this job sometimes.

Then, another Sphinx came in and approached my desk.

“I am here to file a complaint regarding Uthlon the Wise.”

I took my notebook back out.

“For the crime of shouting out ‘River’.”

I had to ask for that one again. Apparently, they were asking someone a riddle, as Sphinxes do, when Uthlon the Wise popped up and shouted the riddle’s answer. For that, I might seek out this Uthlon the Wise for the sole purpose of giving them a medal. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind when another Sphinx, this one rubbing their head and moving as though drunk, wandered in.

“I....am here to....file a complaint.”

“Regarding Uthlon the Wise?”

The Sphinx looked pleased. They do love when someone can guess what they’re thinking.

“Uthlon the Wise hit me over the head with a club.”

I’d just finished writing that down when more Sphinxes came strolling in. I’d never seen this many in one place, not even in Isperia’s court. Then I saw the strangest thing of all. A goblin came in, calmly walked up to my desk, and told me in the best Common I’ve ever heard from a goblin:

"My name is Uthlon the Wise.”

For the love of the Guildpact, what is going on here?

Mass Manipulation

There they are. I thought I made my instructions clear to dress the part. One way you can always spot a Dimir is by their shabby taste. They’re so concerned with being able to keep things hidden in their clothes that they can never wear anything that fits them properly. Orzhov assassins, by contrast, always dress to kill. We turn the art of killing into an actual art. And here this tit comes showing up at the finest diner in the Precinct wearing that awful trenchcoat. Ghosts, I should have hired that Ochran. At least they know not to be seen.

The only reason I’m resorting to this alley skulker is because I need the job done quickly and on the cheap. If this imbecile ruins my appetite, I’m docking the price of the meal from their pay. Then again, if I do that, I wouldn’t be paying them at all.

Seems fair to me.

“Dreadfully sorry I’m late.”

“If this is how you run your business, I may just take mine elsewhere.”

“Now, now, let’s not get hasty.”

The server came over to take our orders, but because of this idiot’s tardiness, my main course would have to wait while they ordered drinks.

“Would you like to see our wine list?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

Ghosts, I should have hired the Rakdos. This whole day is already a loss and it’s only breakfast. Why did I ever think these fools could be trusted with something important?

The server poured water from the pitcher while I waited.

“So, what’s the job?”

“What’s the job? The job is everything! How you present yourself! How you treat your clients! How you behave in high society! How am I supposed to trust you with a contract when you can’t even show up on time for a breakfast?”

They just sat there, drinking their water. Not even the decency to look ashamed. I’m going to put a word in to the Judge for another purge, this is unacceptable. We shouldn’t have to put up with these dredges.

Finishing their water, they clinked their glass on the table.

The whole diner was suddenly quiet. Not the awkward, shocked quiet of society types pausing to listen. I’ve lived in this city for almost 70 years and I’ve never heard anything like this kind of silence. Every single person froze in their place, some halfway in the motion of eating or talking. Then, every single head turned in our direction at once.

“I was afraid it might come to this. I know you have things to do, so I’ll be brief. When I ask you for the job, I don’t need your background or history and especially not your personal take. I know how uptight you Syndicate types are about contracts & paperwork & details and all that nonsense. I just need the deed and the name of the person it’s being done to. That’s all.”

Every face stares at me with blank captivation. Not a single eye blinks. Not a single mouth draws breath. Including mine.

“But first, let’s talk about the pay. For starters, since the target is probably wealthy enough to afford protection, the rate will double. Second, since you clearly have trouble keeping your mouth shut, you’ll need to be kept under supervision until the job is done, so the rate will double again. Lastly, since the reason I was late was because I was debating whether or not to poison your drink, let’s double it again and call it a deal.”

I swallow hard. I should have never gotten involved with House Dimir.

“Seems fair to me.”

“Excellent. Now, what’s the job?”

Debtors’ Transport

This one will not be easy. This isn’t your standard smash & grab in the Bulwark where the Wojek are too busy busting Gruul skulls to chase after a gang of thieves. Everyone in the city has thought of it at least once; rob the Orzhov. The problem is, everyone knows what happens to anyone who tries; best case execution, worst case servitude. The air surrounding the Orzhov Guildhall is saturated with the ghosts of poor souls still paying off their debts to the Syndicate centuries after death. It’s not a fate you wish unto anyone, least of all yourself.

But still....the temptation is right there. An Orzhov transport, one of those big bloated ones that look like someone took a person, removed their bones, and then blew them up like a balloon. Walking right through the plaza. Every week, same time, same route, same cargo. An enormous sarcophagus filled with more coin than your average Ravnican citizen will see in a lifetime, and the moans of the latest poor soul who fell too far behind on their payments.

From the street separating the haves & have-nots of Precinct Two, around the Hall of the Guildpact in Precinct One, then a straight shot along Plaza Avenue to the Orzhova Church. Roughly one hour to walk five miles of city and deliver the cargo into the greedy hands of the Ghost Council.

They aren’t subtle about their business, but they aren’t subtle about security, either. At least four Advokists and Knights for a light haul, double that for a bigger one, and if they’re really hauling a score you can expect a trio of their fully-plated Giants as well. Not to mention the gargoyles they have perched on roofs for every single street along the route. And the transports themselves aren’t exactly known for being well-tempered when something agitates them.

But you rip off a score like that and your entire crew can afford to buy a mansion on a floating mountain.

Assuming you get away, of course. That’s always the rub. There are few things the Syndicate take more personally than being robbed. You rob a score like that, they don’t just send the Order of Sorrows after you, they send the Angels. The executors of Orzhov justice who don’t sleep, don’t stop for lunch, don’t stop for anything until they find you. At least when the Firemane kill someone it’s an exciting way to go. Better death by immolation than spending every night listening for the sound of feathered wings dropping a scythe down on you.

But if you did it right, made sure no one saw you, made sure no one could trace it back to you, it could be done. It can be done.

But who would be willing to take the risk?

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