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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

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Shadows Entwined: Part 2

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 / Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

In which both Leo and reader get grilled by their families, because of the "pretty eyes".

Warnings: Spelling, loong.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

—--------------------------------------

“They call him… The Batman”, Donnie said, reading from his computer screen, causing Leo to break from his starting contest with the wall. He didn’t even remember how he got to staring at the wall. He remembers returning to the abandoned cafe with his brothers, after their meeting with this, Batman and… her. She had said his eyes were pretty. No way she actually meant it. Not with eyes like hers. They were… Leo did not know how to describe them… deep? Colorful? Lively? Filled with emotion-, oh this is how he ended up zoning out in the first place.

Leo was once again pulled out of his thoughts, as Raph started yelling about how stupid it was to use half an hour to google something he could have guessed in seconds.

“I’ve read rumors about a supernatural bat creature in Gotham, but I assumed that he was an urban legend, or that he was a mutant like us”, Donnie said deeply fascinated.

“That guy was definitely human”, Leo finally spoke. “And I think his super natural powers are just his gadgets. Anything about the girl?” Leo could see Raph facepalm out of the corner of his eye.

“Nothing”, Donnie said. “Only stuff about this Batman, or whatever he is”. Why did that pull down on Leo’s mood? No information about her at all?

“We already know what he is!” Mikey was practically dancing at the whiteboard. “He’s awesome!... Unless he’s a bad guy… That would make him… 40% less awesome”. Leo could already tell by the look on Raph’s face that he wanted to punch their little brother all the way back to New York.

“No one knows his motives, but it does appear that he only attacks criminals”, Donnie continued. “Especially this clown guy”.

“So he wears a Dracula costume and punches clowns. Who cares?!”, yelled Raph. “The dirtbag stole my sai!”

“Dracula costume? What kind of Dracula movies have you been watching?”, Donnie muttered.

“Is that why that girl hang around him?!”, Mikey yelled from his whiteboard, jumping with the same enthusiasm he had shown ever since they arrived in Gotham. “He has bitten her and now she is under his control? This city just gets better and better!”

“I don’t think so Mikey. She did say Leo had pretty eyes”, Donnie said. “Hypothetically, I don’t think a human under vampire control would say that. I actually don’t even think vampires in fiction can control people like that…”

Leo already hated this conversation.

“Look all I’m saying is Shredder stole the ooz from TCRI and came to Gotham, we know he’s been working with a new partner, right? It’s gotta be this bat creep and that Leo loving sidekick he has around”, Raph said, exasperated.

Leo remained unmoving with his arms crossed, but the mentioning of the girl made something move in his stomach.

“I’m not so sure”, Leo said. “The way they fought, avoiding lethal blows. They wanted to figure us out. Like a detective".

“She wanted to figure you out”, Raph mumbled, just loud enough for Leo to hear it. Leo would have spoken up, and Mikey not done it first.

“Okay bros. I broke it down”, he said, pointing to his drawings on the whiteboard. “Awesome: Little bat throwing things, cool car, sweet hat, Leo’s first girlfriend. Not awesome: Kicked our butts, may be evil, mean voice, Leo’s first heartbreak”.

“Either way”, Leo broke in, before giving his brothers any chance to add on to Mikey’s whiteboard Batman and sidekick breakdown. “After Wayne Enterprises, we have no idea where the Foot will be next. The Batman is our only lead”.

Donnie nodded. “Whether friend or foe, he and his sidekick was at the scene of the crime. And if you give me a minute, I think I’ve gotten an idea”.

---

“I was right outside!” you yelled like a spoiled child, waving your arms in the air, while Batman carefully looked at the magnifying glass in front of him, a sample he had taken from the sai laying in the little glass tray. “I did nothing but watch those metahumans kick Penguin’s butt! I could have helped you!”

“I did not need help”, Batman said, stoic as he always was when wearing that mask. “I had it under control”.

“That blood in your mouth said otherwise”, you sighed leaning against the deck next to you. This man was stubborn and you knew it. It was no use fighting him on his opinions, as it would be a losing battle for anyone except him.

You heard the familiar sound of a grappling against metal, and saw as Batgirl made her way out of the air vent.

“Heard on the scanner that the police took in some of Penguin’s men. Said they were jumped by four crazy frogs. I assume those were my lizard guys”, she said.

“Your lizard guys are strange”, you told Batgirl.

“They are turtles”, Batman said, pressing keys on the computer keyboard. “And the DNA on this weapon suggests they were mutated by an outside agent”.

“Mutant ninja turtles”. You raised a brow. “And me who thought Gotham couldn’t get any stranger”.

“The technology the ninjas have already stolen could be used to refine a mutagen like that”, Batgirl noted. “But why?”

“The cloud-seeder is the last piece of the puzzle. Which is why I had to move it to a secure location outside of Gotham”.

“I really wished you guys brought me in on this!”, Batgirl said. “I mean I saw the monsters first. It’s my case”.

“And pass up the opportunity to watch them swordfight Penguin later in the future? No way! I had front seat tickets!”

“There were too many unknowns. You could have gotten hurt. Both of you”. Batman turned his attention towards you. “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)”.

“What do you mean? I was beating that blue one pretty good”.

“Yet you didn’t notice the red one almost tapped you from the back”.

You felt a movement in your stomach and cold run down your back, yet your face started to feel hot. You did not notice at all. When would that have happened?... How long did you look into those blue eyes? Did the red one see an opening, only for Batman to save you, while you were being engulfed in a mutant turtle’s eyes, not noticing the world around you?

“N- no, I didn’t”.

“No, and you’ll have to work on that before I start calling you for backup”. Feedback from Batman always sounded harsh. And it did make you feel self conscious. But when it came to fighting alongside Batman, it was a matter of life and death. “In the meantime”, Batman continued, before you could dig too deep into your own feelings. “I’ll need to start working on a way to counteract the mutagen”. Batman stood for a moment. “And for that I could use both of your help”.

You could feel a big smile form on your face as Batgirl thanked the man you saw as your father figure. It wasn’t often that he actually asked for your help, or any help at all, making this a rare occasion, forever saved in your memory.

“All though”, Batgirl said as Batman looked closer at the sai he had gotten from the red turtle. “If those creatures left the Penguin's men tied up for the police, maybe I was wrong about them”.

“Maybe”, was all Batman had to say about that.

The drive back to the Batcave from Wayne Enterprise was silent. With you and Batgirl squished together in one seat, while Batman was driving the Batmobile. The silence that was so common when it came to Batman. It was a far cry from the Bruce Wayne that had taken you in as his own daughter. I was as if the moment he took the mask on, he became a different person. Not less loving than the Bruce Wayne you had given the title father, but less expressive and harder to read.

“Pretty eyes?”, Batman said, finally breaking the silence. Batgirl looked at you in confusion.

“It caught him off guard didn’t it? I’ll say it worked”, you said, playing with a smile on your lips. The bat stayed silent. You knew that silence. It was not an approving silence. You tried playing it off, talking about something else. “Did you notice how easily excited the orange one got? And how mad that red one was? They kind of remind me of Robin-”.

“Your brother is not comparable to a bunch of ninja turtles”.

“Well you might think that”, you mumbled, thinking of your pestilence of an adopted brother, that often caused chaos in your daily life, by sneaking around Wayne Manor. “He does look a little like them”.

Batgirl turned to Batman. “Care to explain?”

Batman sighed. “(H/N) and the blue mutant had a moment where she told him he had pretty eyes”.

“A moment?”, Batgirl asked, slightly shocked.

“A stare down”, you said, feeling your cheeks getting hot.

“A moment”, Batman corrected. “Even his attacks became softer after she told him”.

“No they didn’t!”

“They did. And so did yours”.

With your cheeks on fire, you crossed your arms and leaned back into the seat you shared with Batgirl. The amused smile she was trying to hide, made you wish the Batmobile would swallow you on the spot.

Why did that damn turtle have to have such pretty eyes?

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oddmawd · 1 year

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The Most Coveted of Thrones (Part 1)

SYNOPSIS: All she wanted was to make a deal with a demon. The assholes at her office needed to pay, you see. But the pink-winged devil she just summoned hardly looks like a demon at all, and with a name like "Joker," it's hard to take little things like supernatural safety precautions seriously.

Alas, Joker is not a demon to be trifled with. Especially if you don't know his true name.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRING: Doflamingo x Original Female Character, Doflamingo x Reader (no names or descriptions are given, so reads like a third person reader-insert story)

RATING: This intro is PG-13, but the full fic on AO3 is Explicit, Mature, FOR ADULTS ONLY

WORD COUNT: 16.8k total

GENRE: Smut, Horror

FANDOM: One Piece (Alternate Universe - Modern Day Urban Fantasy)

TAGS: Monster F*cking, Monster P*rn, Demon F*cking, Demon Summoning, Demon Deals, Demon/Human Relationships, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Original Character(s)POV, Original Female Character, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, Inhuman Anatomy, Seven Deadly Sins, Magic, Virginity

WARNINGS: Virginity discussions, implied workplace misogyny, DOFLAMINGO IS HIS OWN WARNING, this first part doesn’t need many warnings beyond “dealing with demons,” find the comprehensive tag list on AO3 (THERE ARE A LOT OF WARNINGS FOR THE FULL STORY, PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS)

NOTES: The second half of this fic is EXTREMELY GRAPHIC. Please heed the tags if you click the AO3 link and read the last half...only the first half/lead-up is posted here on Tumblr because the rest might get me banned LMAO

UNNAMED PROTAGONIST. SHE/HER PRONOUNS. READER (or the OC) has a VAGINA/BREASTS. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HER ARE GIVEN, but she works at a marketing firm or something idk

This CAN be enjoyed fandom-blind!

enjoy, all you Doffy Degenerates out there...

According to the spell book she’d purchased from the sketchy goth dude at the occult supply shop she’d found on Google, the demon’s name was Joker, and he didn’t look anything like a demon at all. Or at least that’s what his summoner decided when the clove-scented smoke cleared and she beheld the creature’s shock of short blond hair, rippling abs gleaming like polished copper, and the cape of pink feathers hanging from his broad shoulders.

But then he flexed that cape and it turned into a pair of enormous, cotton-candy colored wings so huge they brushed basement’s opposing walls many feet apart, and she reevaluated her opinion of his demonic nature...slightly.

What kind of demon had pink wings, after all?

She imprisoned the demon in the middle of a large summoning circle drawn in silver chains, a bit of blood, and some other fluids she’d had a hell of a time obtaining and didn’t want to remember with any degree of detail, thanks. Instead she focused on the demon. (The demon, the demon, the demon! she reminded herself. Don’t forget you’re dealing with demons.) Hard not to focus on the demon when he rose to his full height, because his head nearly scraped the basement’s dank rafters. The man (demon, demon, demon! she repeated like a mantra) was at least ten feet tall, utterly dwarfing her perfectly human frame. A huge figure, a colossal man, a giant of a guy. No wonder the book had said to draw such an enormous summoning circle. If he sat down on folded legs, his spread knees would probably brush the myriad candles flickering at the circle’s edge.

But honestly, he wasn’t all that intimidating. If it weren’t for the height and the pink wings (or so she told herself in an effort to weaponize logic and bully herself into a placid frame of mind) he’d looked totally human. Nose, lips, sexy abs, eyes (what little she could see of them, anyway) were all in the right places. It further helped that he wore white sunglasses with reflective red lenses, frames shaped liked curving wings cupping his face and hiding his eyes from view. Sunglasses on a demon? Yeah, apart from the wings, he just looked like a human with bad taste. Nothing like a demon at all.

...or so she thought until she spotted the horns, curling and golden, sprouting from his forehead. They caught the candlelight when he dipped his head to look at her, and — yup, that was definitely a demon, all right. The tiny horns curved up and back out of the fringe of his hairline, tiny gilt protrusions no longer than her index fingers curing over his skull like an ibex’s, but once she caught a glimpse, she couldn’t take her eyes off them.

Joker’s wide mouth split into an even wider grin. He bent at the waist to get a better look, and the cavalcade of necklaces on his chest jingled and glinted in the candlelight, slowly swinging in the air. Medallions hung from gilded chains, festooned with arcane symbols undecipherable. Closer up, more tiny horns the size of her fingernails dotted the skin along his hairline. They looked almost like...sequins, maybe. Or like a dusting of glimmering scales in diamond patterns.

“Hello, little human.” He spoke in a deep, rich purr, sound like a gloved hand tracing letters on her shivering nape. “Is it you who dared to summon me?”

She swallowed. “Yup.”

He regarded her for a time, expression somehow inscrutable despite his enormous, many-toothed grin. She fidgeted beneath its weight. Though his glasses were fundamentally ridiculous (and totally unbecoming of a demon) she had to admit they were effective. This was a demon of deal-making, as she understood it. The glasses and smile were a variation of a poker face, she was sure, elaborately over-performed to keep her guessing. She’d need to be on her guard no matter what he looked like, that was for sure.

“Interesting.” His head tilted, muscles in his neck gliding under bronze skin. “You do not cower in fear before me.”

She frowned, but — wow. He was telling the truth. Her knees held steady, her palms remained dry, and the beat of her heart plodded along at a measured pace. But perhaps her lack of panic was to be expected. This wasn't the first time she’d successfully summoned something, after all. While she was not a witch by any means, she’d performed some basic spell-work over the past few months — practice rounds, basically. She’d been shocked when those worked, sure. But the novelty had worn off fast, because the imps cavorting in her summoning ring couldn’t give her what she wanted. They weren’t powerful enough, and the bastards at her workplace had persisted on making her life a living hell.

This demon, though? Calling forth Joker was calling out the big guns...literally. Guy looked like he could bench press a semi-truck. Muscles for days, each abdominal carved from stone, forearms corded with power and strength. Just looking at him, she knew that if anyone could give her what she wanted, it had to be a demon like him. The spell book in her arms had told her so, too. This demon granted desires to the prideful, it said — and at this point, all she had left was her pride.

It was high time to get what she was owed. And fear would not stand in her way. Not anymore.

So maybe that’s why she wasn’t scared. It had been a particularly bad work day, too. She’d been debating summoning Joker for weeks, but the assholes at the office had finally pushed her over the edge. She needed the spell to work after everything they put her through. She was too hungry for triumph to allow herself to fear.

Thus, intent on the goal before her, she shrugged and informed the demon she’d summoned: “You’re just not that scary, I guess.”

Pink feathers rattled like chains. “Not that scary?” he hissed between the blades of his teeth — which now looked a tad sharper than before. “Are you a fool, or merely ignorant? The impertinence.”

One massive hand rose, pressing toward her — but just as fear spiked her blood, a flash of light stopped Joker cold. Sparks fizzled against his skin with the scent of burned sugar, sickly sweet and nauseating. She released a tense breath. The summoning circle did more than merely summon. It also kept Joker locked within, keeping her safe and unafraid without.

And Joker understood this, because he lowered his hand from the barrier, fist clenching. “You should fear me, little witch. I am powerful beyond your wildest dreams. You are incapable of conceptualizing my immense might, my sway over the realms of Hell, my seat on the throne of the Dreaded Seven. You should fear — ”

“You look like an oversized twink who wandered out of a Miami gay bar,” she interjected. “I ain't scared of you.”

A beat of silence — and then Joker threw back his head and laughed. He laughed long and loud and lusty, hand on his horned forehead, chest heaving. It wasn’t a nice laugh. It made her feel small. Although she’d been the one to levy insults, he was laughing at her — she sensed that, felt the truth of his disdain in her bones. But it hardly mattered. So long as he gave her what she wanted, so long as he did as he was told, she could put up with being laughed at.

She’d had practice, after all. Her office was full of demons of a different stripe.

But, just like at work, her pride wouldn’t let her back down without a fight. She crossed her arms and looked him up and down, hip jutting out, feet shifting into a stance of lazy confidence (a posture she knew projected power — they’d told her so at the workshop for young professionals she’d attended last year).

“So. Your name is Joker. Fan of Batman, huh?” she asked.

His laughter faded to a mere chuckle. “Joker...is that the name your spell book gave you?”

“Yes.”

His glasses glittered with mirth. “Interesting.”

“Don’t pretend I got your name wrong,” she spat. “You wouldn’t have shown up if it were wrong.”

“How very logical of you.” He grinned all the harder. “I’m impressed.”

Joker applauded her, then — palm on palm ringing out in the candlelit basement, every slap of flesh a patronizing thunderclap. Bracelets chimed like church bells on his desecrated wrists. She wanted to slap him, wipe that smirk off his handsome face...but he looked rich, damn him, with all those necklaces and that gold skin and that chiseled jaw a model would envy, and the spell book said he could grant boons to those seeking their own fortunes. Joker’s attitude, his pride...it’s why she’d picked him out of all the other demons in the book. His arrogance was as good a sign as the gold on his wrists. It gave her hope — but she didn’t let that hope show on her face, instead scowling up at him, one foot tapping the creaking floor.

“Neither trickery nor flattery will work on me, actually,” she said, tossing her head, “so you can save the ingratiating act.”

He chuckled again. “Noted, little witch.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Oh, no?” A huge, pink tongue poked from the corner of his mouth, lascivious and indolent. “You look like a witch to me.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a digital marketing manager.” The title grated like sandpaper on her tongue, as ill-fitting as her boss’s cheap suits. “But that’s not all I want to be. What I know I can be.”

“And that’s where I come in?” Joker said.

“How’d you guess?”

“Why else would you summon a demon? You want something.”

He drawled the world ‘want’ as if savoring its flavor. She suppressed a shudder.

“Yes. I do,” she said. “And I want you to give it to me.”

“You want me to give you what you want...” he said, still drawling that one particular word. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you say it for me, pet?” he purred, voice simpering and sweet despite its deep tenor. “I do so love hearing my assignments in plain language.”

It sounded like a simple request — but she didn’t grant it right away. The book had warned her about giving demons even the littlest leeway. But after analyzing the request in her head, she didn’t see any fault in it. There wasn’t any monkey-paw-wish-twisting happening that she could discern. So she shrugged, and squared her shoulders, and took the plunge.

“Sure,” she said. “I want you to give me what I want.”

He let out another long laugh. “Excellent.”

“As for what I want... well, let me start at the beginning.”

He hadn’t asked, but she figured he’d need to know in order to make good on their soon-to-be-discussed deal, so she explained: Her ungrateful bosses. The two-faced guys at work who sucked their metaphorical dicks to get the best projects. Late nights spent working for no recognition. Ideas sniped from under her by assholes who gave her zero credit. The way her workplace nemesis mocked and belittled her when her back was turned but played nice to her face. The petty minutiae, the annoyances, the burning hatred she felt for that one asshole in particular who did not deserve his success — the success that should be hers, dammit.

She should have been given the office when it opened up. She should have been recognized and promoted. She should be given the high-profile accounts with better bonuses. It should be her, dammit — but instead it was him. The man who treated her like garbage. The man sabotaged her at every turn. The man who didn’t deserve any of it, but the man who got it because he played the right kind of game, and played it dirty besides.

She went on for longer, perhaps, that she should have, but Joker didn’t tell her to stop — not with words, anyway. She’d launched into her fourth (fifth?) anecdote about her supremely shitty coworker by the time he heaved a sigh and rubbed his temple with a fingertip. His other hand prodded the barrier, idly coaxing forth sparks with every flick. She flinched the first time, but she ignored it the second, and the third. The barrier was impenetrable. She wasn’t worried; let the demon sulk. She needed to vent. Luxuriate in her anger before taking her revenge.

And her rage-marinated revenge, when she had it, would no doubt taste sweet.

“So you’re dissatisfied with your occupation,” Joker said when she paused for breath. The demon yawned, smile sleepy and wry. “How very dull. Humans are so tedious.”

“Sorry my problems seem so trivial to you,” she grumbled. “Now, about what I want — ”

Joker raised a finger and wagged it in her face (or as close to it as he could get, anyway). “Ah ah ah, little witch.”

“I told you, I’m not a witch.”

“You are, though. Anyone who can summon me must be a witch. And a clever one, at that.” He tutted, horned head shaking. “Although you seem woefully uneducated. Allow me to rectify this oversight.”

Wait. Was Joker being helpful? Oh, now that was suspicious as hell. She’d be damned if she’d blindly trust him after everything the book had told her. This demon “pulled the strings of the world to make destiny dance,” it said. Joker was a known wish-granted, a known deal-maker, a known bargainer of legend...but all demons hungered for human souls, and demons weren’t exactly known for their senses of fair play. Since her soul was the only price she wouldn’t consider paying to get what she wanted, she’d need to be on her guard through every last word, especially if he was pretending to be helpful. She’d hear him out but not take anything he said at face value lest she accidentally grant him ownership of that which she did not wish to give away.

Yeah. No genie tricks tonight, no sir. Just good ol’ fashioned bargaining. That’s what she was after, and that was all.

“Demons like me can give you what you want, whatever that may be, so long as you can command us,” Joker was saying in the same suspiciously gracious tones as before. “And you command us by knowing our true names.” He gestured at himself — at his powerful jaw, sculpted physique, and brilliant smile. He chuckled when she stared just a little too long; she ripped her eyes away, face flushed. “You summoned me. That is proof enough you know my true name and can command me as you like.”

“I knew all of that already,” she said, unimpressed.

“But I am willing to bet you didn’t know we still require payment for our services.”

She smiled. “Actually, I knew that, too.”

“Clever little witch!” Joker crowed. “Oh, but I am impressed.”

“Remember what I said about flattery?” She shook her head. “I suppose you’re about to ask me for payment. Gonna ask for my mortal soul?”

But Joker surprised her when he heaved a heavy, bored sigh. “Hardly. I have no use for a soul flitting about. Human souls are ever so tedious.” He laughed again, another derisive barrage of mirth that set her teeth on edge. “And besides. The worth of a human soul is hardly as costly as you humans tend to think. You hold yourselves in laughably high regard.” Another laugh, even louder than the one before. “And they call me prideful.”

“We’re not worth much? Really?” she said, not quite believing him.

“Oh, yes.” He grinned like a shark, pink feathers rustling like clinking scales. “Trust me, little witch. Of all the sins, I understand pride most intimately of all.”

And then he was laughing again, condescending and demeaning and mean — second verse, same as the first. By then she was used to feeling like Joker got off on telling jokes he had no intention of explaining; no sense getting offended. She rolled her eyes and tapped her foot, impatient.

“So my soul isn’t worth anything,” she said. “What do you want from me, instead?”

“Nothing you cannot live without.” He gestured vaguely at nothing. “But it must be equal in value to whatever you ask for.”

“I haven’t asked for anything yet.”

“Of course you haven’t.” He hummed. “You must first pay my price.”

“A price you, once again, have not told me,” she reminded him. “Shouldn’t you hear what I want before naming your price, anyway? How can you know how much to charge me without knowing what I’m buying from you?”

He grinned like a waning moon. “What I desire will no doubt pay for whatever petty want you care to name.”

“And what do you desire, Joker?”

“Your virginity.”

Joker said it so bluntly, so confidently, she thought she’d misheard him. But then perception caught up with reality and her face caught fire, shame and shock setting every last nerve ablaze. Even the candles near her felt too hot, all of a sudden, the acrid tang of smoke cloying in her throat.

“H-how — ?” she stammered. “How do know I’m a — ?”

“I can smell it.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “You’re pure. Untouched. Tantalizing. Demons can smell it for miles — that scent ripe for spoil. And virgins are so rare these days. There’s really no mistaking it.”

Both enormous hands lifted. His fingertips raked across the barrier — trying to touch her, but unable. A shower of sparks caught his golden horns where they curved upward, lifting away from his skull toward the heavens he had long been banished from.

“To be summoned by one as beautiful as you, as pure as you, as eager as you...” Joker’s laugh rumbled in his chest, razor sharp and velveteen. “This is a rare opportunity, one I do not intend to squander.”

She coughed into her fist. Virginity — of all the things he could’ve asked for, that particular bauble hadn’t ranked high on her list of payment possibilities. It wasn’t like she cared about her virginity. She’d happily prioritized studying (and then working a thankless job) over finding someone to fuck her. And besides, it wasn’t like virginity was real. It was just a misogynistic social construct meant to keep her from asserting her sexuality in a patriarchal society that feared powerful women. It meant nothing to have sex the first time. In fact, she’d debated many times the merits of finding a random hookup through a dating app just to get her “first time” over with, but she’d never quite found the opportunity to follow through.

Suffice to say, giving up her virginity didn’t mean anything to her...but she’d be damned in she told Joker as much. If he thought her useless virginity was valuable — well, she’d let him think so. She wasn’t about to cheapen what, to her, seemed like the biggest bargain ever.

Speaking of biggest: Would Joker even, y’know...fit? Inside her, that is? Because he was probably ten feet tall, horns scraping the rafters, and that meant he had to be packing, right?

Oh, god. If she hadn’t been praying for mercy before, now felt like a good time to start.

She didn’t let any of her misgivings show on her face, however. She didn’t have glasses, but her poker face was still pretty great after sitting through so many infuriating meetings without flinching. She pretended to mull it over, looking at Joker’s broad shoulders and trim waist as if considering his proposition. Not that thinking of him in such a context was a difficult task. Full lips framed Joker’s endless grin, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist with a gorgeously cut Adonis belt, and that washboard stomach...well. She could lose her virginity to a lot worse, at least in the looks department. And at least she’d be losing it by candlelight! According to movies, candles were necessary (even if these candles smelled like outdated incense — a gift from the guy with the weird eyebrows at the occult supply shop, not that it even mattered).

“Virginity...that’s a big ask,” she said eventually.

“Indeed, considering.” He gestured at his hips like he’d read her mind, grin taking on a simmering heat. “But it is my price.”

“Why virginity, anyway?” she said — trying to ignore the way his smile set off fireworks in her belly. “How could that possibly be more valuable than my soul?”

“You have heard of an incubus, haven't you, my little witch? Demons who feed through sex?” he asked. “Sex is a mingling of essence, of energy, of pure power. A perfect conduit for magic.”

“I guess that tracks.” She looked him over with new understanding. “So you’re an incubus, then.”

His smile grew. “Incubus use the energy of intercourse to power themselves.”

To her, it seemed he spoke from a place of authority — which made sense. He was an incubus. Funny the book hadn’t mentioned that, but... “Makes sense.”

“Indeed,” he said with another of his knowing chuckles. “When in the mortal realm, demons such as incubuses are cut off from the fires of Hell, our homeland. We retain certain abilities, but we lack true power here. It is ever so dull.” She got the sense he’d rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see them. “In order to give you what you want, I must have power. That power must come from the summoner, and that power must be enough to grant the summoner’s request — an exchange, equivalent and equal.”

“Still seems like my soul would be worth more than my virginity.”

“Perhaps — but to take your soul would kill you. How can I grant you what you want if you are dead? I trust you would need to be alive in order to enjoy whatever it is you intend to ask for.” A growl resonated in his chest, heavy and heated. His obscured eyes remained fixed on her. “And the first bite of a virgin is potent magic indeed. More than enough to place you on the most coveted of thrones.”

She frowned. “The most coveted...?”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked — but before she could reply, he held up a hand, bracelets on it ringing. “You needn’t say. You’re hungry for power. The scent of that ambition is nearly as strong as your virginity.” Again he licked his lips, tongue broad and hot and huge. “Pure and tainted all at once...oh, how delicious you’ll taste.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” His eager stare was doing things to her, thighs pressing together tightly, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead she backtracked, picking apart his language to focus on: “The most coveted of thrones...?”

It was a peculiar turn of phrase, but an evocative one. The job title her shitty coworker had usurped from under her, complete with a promotion and a raise and a huge oak desk with a leather top like something straight out of Mad Men over in the vacant corner office...that should’ve been hers. She should’ve had that metaphorical throne, not him. Joker had acted like her story about her workplace had bored him, but clearly he’d been listening well enough. That, or his demonic powers granted him knowledge of her world. Whatever the case, she was (grudgingly) impressed.

“So you know what I’m after,” she said. “I want — ”

But he lifted his finger and tutted again. “Not yet, little witch. Not yet. Payment comes first, fulfilled before services requested and rendered. Only once I have my payment may you tell me what you truly want.”

“I still think it’s weird. Like you’re doing this backward.”

“Perhaps I am.” His nose lifted, haughty as a preening flamingo. “But I wouldn’t expect a pretty little mortal to understand the ways of an infernal demon like me.”

“...I suppose that’s true.”

For a time, she sat in thought. He watched in silence, patient. Was that a predatory glint she spied behind his shades? Did the glasses hide the eyes of a hawk circling prey, perhaps? But no, that couldn’t be right. She knew Joker’s name. She had the power here, and she had been careful.

She was in control. Not him. And that meant she was safe.

Thus, confident in herself, she steeled her spine, breathed deeply of the smokey air, and asked: “Well, Joker. How would this work?”

One blond brow lifted. “Hmm?”

“You’re trapped in that circle. How could you even touch me?” She glared, daring him to contradict her as his smile grew and grew and grew until she feared his face might crack. “And before you tell me to let you out, I’m not stupid. I’m not about to loose a demon on the mortal realm.”

“Read your spell-book carefully, my dear. I am sure there is a solution to our dilemma within. I will hardly be the first demon to attend to his summoner’s sexual appetites.” His voice had adopted a simpering tone, low and cajoling, sticky and slick. “Does this mean you have accepted the terms of my bargain?”

“My virginity in exchange for the most coveted of thrones...I’m thinking on it.” She plopped down on the floor and opened her spell book on her lap. “Let’s see about this spell, first.”

Slowly, the demon named Joker lowered himself to the floor, too. And as predicted, the spread of his folded knees brushed the edges of the summoning circle, the barrier there humming with proximity-fueled power that hummed in her molars. Gosh, Joker was absolutely enormous — but the weight of his stare intimidated her far more than the size of his body. The shades obscured everything but the smile that told her nothing at all. What kind of demons wears shades? she found herself wondering again. Such a weird dude, this Joker. And he had a weird name, too. What kind of dude was named Joker, anyway?

No. Not a dude. A demon, a demon — never forget that. Especially not when he was acting almost docile.

Errant thoughts like those wouldn’t help her solve her problems, though. She focused instead on flipping through her book and reading the section on summoning circles all over again — and soon, in the footnotes and by the light of her many candles, she found something.

“‘If the demon need interact in corporeal fashion with the mortal realm but not be loosed upon it with infernal agency intact,’” she read aloud to herself, “‘the summoner need only add another layer to the barrier of...’” She flipped a page. “So I just need to...?”

She wouldn’t need to do much, it turned out. It would take only a few minutes to follow the book’s guidance and draw a second, larger circle outside the first, one the book claimed both parties would be able to enter freely — but one it claimed only the summoner could leave. The current circle kept the summoner out as much as it kept the demon within, it said, to ensure the summoner’s safety. The new circle would not allow the demon to escape, but the summoner could physically access the demon at will without worry of being dragged to the underworld.

In short, it seemed...safe. Suspiciously safe, in fact.

“This new circle is like a one-way barrier that won’t fully release you, but it allows me entry if I want,” she said aloud, mostly to herself. “It would still keep you trapped.”

“A pity,” Joker told her. “I do so long to be free.”

“Fat chance.” She glanced at the book again. “It would keep you trapped, but I could enter it without fear. And you wouldn’t be able to pull me into the inner circle and hurt me, either. Or pull me down to Hell through the portal that brought you here.”

“Drag a human to Hell?” he asked with a scoffing laugh. “How archaic! What would I even do with a human, anyway?”

His annoyance at the very idea of dragging her to Hell was oddly reassuring. “Plus it says you can’t drag anyone to Hell without their consent, so I’m safe,” she went on. “And if you hurt me, it says you’d be banished at once. And there’s a dispelling word I can say, or even think, at any time to send you back inside the main circle, where you’ll be trapped again.” Was she trying to convince Joker or herself that this was a good idea? In a show of fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence, she declared: “Looks pretty foolproof to me.”

“A foolproof annoyance,” he returned with a grumble. “But it serves our shared desires well enough.” That smoldering look from earlier returned; Joker rolled to his knees, sitting back on his heels with thighs spread wide. He ran his palms up and down them in slow pulses, from groin to knee and back again. “Does this mean you have accepted — ?”

She yanked her gaze away. “Still thinking on it.”

And she did think on it — long and hard, which was probably a pun considering what she was about to (potentially) do with the demon before her. Virginity was such a small price to pay to make her dreams come true, wasn’t it? And she’d definitely ask for revenge on those who’d wronged her as part of her rise to the throne she coveted most...

What were a few minutes of sex in the grand scheme of things?

What was virginity in the face of her future?

Not daring to look Joker in the eye, she stood. She moved the candles back a few feet from the first summoning circle. She went to the bucket of paint in the corner (the one mixed with those fluids she didn’t want to think about) and grabbed the brush resting beside it on a painting tray. Still not looking at Joker, she went to the edge of the circle and began to draw.

But she needn’t speak for Joker to understand. “So you have accepted,” he said, watching her work with a simmering intensity she felt blazing against her skin. “I knew you’d see it my way, little witch. Soon I will give you what you want.”

Again, he drawled the word. Again, she shivered. Again, he laughed at her expense and at an unspoken joke only he understood.

“Yeah, yeah...” she grumbled. “Hold on, just let me concentrate...”

She painted the circle in what felt like both hours and seconds, both long and short, both infinite and finite time at once. Joker watched mostly in silence, though occasionally he chuckled to himself. He only moved once she finished painting and stood back to admire her work, which he tested by pressing a hand to the barrier of the inner circle. It sparked briefly against his palm...but then it gave way like a membrane under pressure, admitting him into the outer circle with a fizzle and a pop of deflated pressure.

She expected him to step into the outer circle at once, which afforded him at least a few more feet of space, but he surprised her. He stood without moving in the center of the inner summoning ring, grinning, rotating his head atop his neck as though preparing for some physical feat. The new circle gave him more room to maneuver, but although his wings rustled in anticipation, they did not stretch wide just yet.

“The time of our bargain is upon us, pet,” he said.

“Pet, again...” She rolled her eyes at the name.

“You know better than to tell me your real name, so my terms of endearment you will have to endure.” He licked his lips. “So...”

“So,” she repeated.

“Let us forge the pact.” He drew himself up, voice deepening. “You give yourself — ”

“Not myself. My virginity,” she said, on guard against the Monkey’s Paw he’d so clearly tried to instigate.

And he didn’t argue the distinction. “You give your virginity to me,” he readily amended, “in exchange for what you want — a prize to be named upon completion of payment rendered.” His head cocked to one side. “Do you agree to these terms?”

Again, she thought about it. Turned the wording over in her head. Analyzed and picked it apart until semantics blurred into loose sounds and unrecognizable shapes. But she could find no loopholes, and so she nodded.

“Yes,” she told the demon she called Joker. “I agree to the terms.”

Something passed between them. A solidity, a pressure, a connection — it snapped into place like magnets crashing, like a key entering a lock, like gravity snatching an apple from the air as it fell from some forbidden primordial tree. She shivered. A sharp crack of laughter boomed from Joker’s long throat, zealous and full of promise.

“Wonderful!” he said — and that booming laugh dropped low, like fire dwindling to coals burning beneath heap of satin ash. “Then let us begin.”

Part 1 - END. Continued on AO3.

THE FULL FANFIC IS AVAILABLE EXCLUSIVELY ON AO3

CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL STORY

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rosesandalfazemas · 11 months

Text

@engportevents

3. Your best version

Spanish version

Windsor.

That was undoubtedly the first stone upon stones that the Englishman could call "home." Although at first there had been only two towers and a small wall, over the centuries, technology and the importance of existence, Windsor gradually became a region in itself, covering hectares of extension in both buildings and complexes, roads, fields, hunting grounds, rural zones and urban areas.

It had been the place of birth and death of almost all the sovereigns of the nation, and was the undisputed home of the youngest of the Kirklands for many centuries, until the evolution of the world caused him to move with the royal family to new residences; but they always returned, inevitably to the same place, with some new excuse that only showed how deep the roots and the blue blood of their people had, connected beyond the obvious.

Its existence was so important and powerful that the castle, along with the Emerald Bastion in Ireland and Stonehenge in Scotland, were the only structures that were also transfigured in the Dreamworld; for its force in human history was such, that it refracted like the image of a mirror. Points so powerful that they were half of the complex called the Great Gray Castle, one of the most important spiritual structural bases in the West.

“Here we are…”

For this, they had to navigate much deeper than they usually did, conscious in reality with their humanoid skins. And a previous step.

"Meu Deus..."

Gabriel’s steps were light as he made his way down the carpeted hallway, until he was facing the leaves at the entrance to the room. Arthur looked at the guard in the background and gestured for them to spread out a bit; he took a key that no longer belonged to that time, from his pocket. In a quick gesture he opened the old but well-preserved wooden doors, with the original engravings that the couple remembered, stretching out his arms and sliding the leaves backwards.

“The door…”

"The same one," the blond smiled amused. “They’re the passage to the Christian paradise we chose back then, when inexperience made us more tense than we should have been.”

"Well, I was a little older and you had just gotten used to functioning on your own, after learning from Francis. It was quite a challenge for you.”

“Of course.” he smiled tenderly. “It was quite an adventure. But there was time for me to prepare this one for you.”

"It's true." He looked at him for a second. “What's more, I remember it took three tries to make this door, because it never reached the palace intact; something occured and the door arrived broken.”

“Ah yes, all the tension activated my magic; those poor souls took quite the scare” he laughed with a hint of bitterness. “ But after that I learned to control it…”

"... to use conscientiously."

“... to use it conscientiously, yes.”

The brunette smiled, a hint of sarcasm on his lips, and returned to the door, giving it a onceover before entering. He remembered the craftsman who had carved the doors, on days full of joy and bewilderment. He had come over to show off the idea, dirty and nervous, between stern knights in silver armor. And it was Portugal himself who chose him.

For some reason, all the descendants of that craftsman still had a connection to the Royal British Family to present day, offering their services at more sophisticated levels.

"It's like a time travel, marido," he admited, looking all over the room. “It's maravilhoso.”

"That's why I wanted to bring you, because of the expression on your face. I love it.”

Gabriel turned and smiled at him. They continued the tour, walking slowly between the corridors and the decorations of each corner; carding his fingers between some things, both melancholy and pride.

The entire wing had been planned out when the alliance was announced, and built up a couple of years later. With a view of the Chapel of Saint George where they had been married, passing through the red room and the white drawing room, the old bedroom had been covered, decorated and then painted with blues and ochres, because Gabriel liked marine colors, replacing the reds a young Arthur had preffered.

The huge windows had been conserved, and through time they had added heavy curtains that let the light in. On the opposite side, facing north, were three huge standing mirrors with their own vanity table, two internal bathrooms, two work desks, a loveseat, a common library against the wall, two closets with walking room to change, recreation tables close to the door and a large piece of furniture that kept specific glassware for the refined alcohol stored in it, with its glasses and glasses gifted from all the courts of the world.

The bed, next to it, was still as immense as the first, with its dark oak colored carved headboard and high footboards; lined with white and blue velvet curtains, held in place by long golden cords.

In front of it, the walls were a pewter blue and the ceiling white, with hanging gold decorations. Saint George, patron saint of both nations, was painted on the ceiling just like a silhouette, whose sword pointed to the heraldic shields of both houses over the fireplace that was on one of the walls.

The metal scale ornaments showed who this room belonged to, and why entire generations of humans were never allowed to be there.

“Everything looks the same as I remember.” Portugal walked in, England closed the door behind.

“I wanted to keep it this way. With all the happy and bitter memories.” the blonde spoke, his hands were in his pocket. “I did not want to skip over any details, it is not intended to be a fantasy.”

“Yes, I can sense it in the air.” The Portuguese looked at him sideways, while looking over the base of the steel shields on the wall, with a melancholic look.

“We made love in front of the fire many times, on the stone floor and fur rugs, with those sea storms the winter brought and cooled the whole room.”

"And on the other hand, overwhelmed by the summer heat, we argued much more when we were in bed." continued Gabriel. “We did everything backwards.”

"It was the charm of the marriage." Arthur walked towards him.

Gabriel smiled sadly when, after kissing his husband's hand, his eyes of that strange aquamarine went to a corner, landing on one of the tables near the room's central library.

“There’s where you yelled at me for the first time, I remember, and you threatened to go get our alliance act and tear it up with your own hands, condemning its writing to a hellish fire.”

Arthur blushed violently, looking to the side.

“... I said that?”

"You were angry. You found the letters that Antonio's king had with mine, and you considered it an infidelity in, what you felt, it was monogamy. You were hurt and jealous, and that hit you like an anvil.”

“Yeah, I'm not specifically proud of my reactions in the first decade. However, you didn't reproach me for that behavior afterwards, because you knew it was based on personal stupidity.”

“It wasn’t. You were young, you were scared and you were afraid that I would leave you. But I knew that I loved you and that it wouldn’t happen.”

"Well, there's the age difference," the other pointed out, with a hint of amusement. “You were already more on your feet. I had just stopped being a wild rabbit that Bonnefoy had tamed, wearing a metal armor that was too big for me at our wedding.”

Gabriel laughed slowly.

“It's part of your charm.” he kissed his forehead affectionately, letting go to continue the tour of the room, reviewing each object and piece of furniture, until the turn led him to the foot of the bed. “But you didn’t bring me here to remember our rights and wrongs."

"No, of course," he answered, walking towards him.

"Then, my dear husband, I look forward to hearing from you what you want to do here."

Arthur took his hand and lead him to sit on white feather padding, leaving him on the edge. Then he knelt on the ground and rested his elbows on the other's knees, getting between his legs and looking up at him with the expression of an anxious child.

“By my command, his place preserves all the things that we have gone through in our history. Only a few creatures that still walk the Earth can say that they have experienced what we have, together.” His tone lowered, showing solemnity. “And although time and sea have sometimes distanced us; wars or famines were only breaks from what really unites us.” he took the other’s hands and left the one that tied the weeding ring on top. "Something much deeper than vows in this reality."

"We can't go directly to the Dreamworld," replied the dark-haired man, catching on the intention. “You’ve taught me that you have to go in phases. Human reality is far away.”

“Not from here; in this bubble in which I keep the memories condensed on the walls, the memories on the floor and still drawn in the inks of the library books, witnesses of our time together, it will allow us to travel there at that level of depth and in full consciousness.”

"... So we don't need an ecstatic state to find it?"

The Englishman blinked suddenly, letting go of the hand and pouting childishly.

"...Hey, don't mock me, I do want to fuck you."

Portugal's laugh was as unexpected as well received. It was contagious, and dissipated the tension the conversation gave them.

"Well, that's really a way to get back to the present," he smiled mockingly, the freckles on the nose more visible due to the blush. Gabriel brushed the blond bangs back with his fingers, uncovering the forehead that always was unnoticed by the hair and his thick eyebrows.

"Did I ask a question outside of the lesson, professor witch?"

"It's clear that you don't pay attention" he raised an eyebrow, following the game “. So I'll give you a … practical lesson.”

Taken advantage of by the position, Arthur rose to his feet and leaned over Gabriel, pushing him under himself and laying him down on the bed. He supported all his weight, one that Gabriel received with a big smile, hugging him from behind and seeking his mouth to deepen a long kiss.

"Mmh, amor..."

“Relax, I'll lead… ”

Pale hands traveled to the sides of the other's torso, beginning to undo the buttons and push the fabric. The tanned hands undid the belt and released the trousers, opening the shirt more. Arms stretched out and both legs spread, making the other's work easier with a coordination that left no doubt for how long they had been lovers, between the intense kisses that sought to bite and get deeper.

"Ah! Arthur…”

"We'll take it slow, okay? Seeing you naked is a problem right now, my control begins to break.”

“Bem.”

The Lusitanian raised his arms, while the Briton finished undressing him. A sidelong look and a complicit smile accompanied the silent acts, until Portugal was completely naked.

“You know, Ludwig told me this is a fetish.” he pointed himself out, still dressed. “I think we have nothing left to try, however. Still, seeing you like that makes me—“

"Marido, you're rambling again," he snapped his fingers at him, amused. “You said you were going to go for a practical lesson, but don't take it too literally.”

"Is that a bossy tone I'm hearing?" Arthur feigned an offended question, while Gabriel spread his legs, fully exposing himself against the head of the bed, tucked between the pillows.

"I'm a king, what did you expect from me? Begging?” He smiled maliciously, “You must serve me. It is your conjugal duty, especially in our bed.”

Still dressed, the blond crawled over to the other, caressing the knees and lowering his hands to the huge scars on the thighs of both legs, pressing them. The brunette's reaction was reflected on a sigh and his growing erection.

“Damn the moon that guided my path to ever cross your own, gypsy. You only get me turned on.”

“Everything turns you on, Arthur. You are a pervert with beautiful eyes.” He rose his brows. “Stop making excuses about my so-called luring sorcery.”

“It’s real; I could only be comfortable with another witch, and here you are, giving me orders.”

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

England applies pressure onto the scars, making the other moan loudly.

“I said we’d go slow, my dear husband.”

“Mhm… I’m getting desperate, do something before I go insane and stop listening to you.”

“As you wish.”

Arthur leans down onto the other’s hips, taking the hard member into his mouth. The skillful mouth made the lusitanian bang their head against the headboard of the bed, raising his eyes to the ceiling, half closed. Moans built up in his throat and he held onto the wooden bedposts, while his partner’s dominance made him feel like an anvil.

“Arthur!”

“Give yourself to me the way I do to you, no conditions.” The other asked for, “The way we did when we first made our vows. Just like that time…”

“Sim, sim.”

Arthur undoubtedly showed a great power; perhaps the most powerful nation in Western Europe, even with all its setbacks. But there was no action or comment from him that went unnoticed by anyone in the world; from a caress to a red button that he pressed, or how many cubes of sugar the ideal tea should contain.

Greece was right in thinking that his existence generated tidal waves; some that maximized his husband's bodily pleasure, found in the warmth of his mouth. Something that perhaps only a couple would endure and that would kill a mortal with a heart attack.

When the blonde spread the tanned legs with false kindness, holding them by the knees, the noises coming from his mouth were more obscene, causing a more intense arousal. Little by little, every soft word, etiquette rule, or dress code fell apart, as each piece of clothing was ripped open, a button broken off, and a zipper undone.

“Let me see you.”

Arthur kissed him again, letting the wandering hands continue their work. He was half dressed, and beneath him was Portugal, naked and ready. Pausing for a moment to caress the edges of his face, moving gently down his shoulders, arms, chest, waist, and thighs.

“This is your best version.” He whispered against Port’s lips, focused on the other’s pupils.

“Esta é a sua melhor versão.” Portugal repeated, reaching for the other’s hands with his own and interlocking his fingers.

They smiled at each other, conjuring up an old ritual they’d always shared. Something the old tribal women from here and there, between the Calé and the Celts, had taught them over time. Something that evoked a recognition among creatures conceived like those; long-lived and almost infinite, with thousands of folded sides in many dimensions. This way, they focused on a single form: the one that brought together a bit of all of them, and made it plausible to channel any quality of the other sides; since it was the most powerful, tangible and consistent.

The human form.

A breeze from nowhere blew gently into the room, bringing with it a strong scent of roses. The emerald eyes on Portugal seemed to shine in the soft gloom of the room. The answer was immediate: the pupils of a strange-green sea seemed to lighten up just a little, and a wave of lavender appeared around them. A brightness that called to another, in many places at once. Both smells could be felt and seen, surrounding and enveloping them like cocoons.

"You look beautiful like this, the real you." Gabriel whispered, obsessed by the vision above him. The blond smiled lazily.

“Then you should hold me closer, dearest, because for this trip I am the channel through which you must pass.”

"Oh, must I... ?"

“Indeed. That's why I prepared you with my mouth before.” he raised his thick eyebrows.

"Well, I won't deny that it's a pleasant surprise." Portugal laughed slowly, still caressing the pale skin. It’s been a long time since it was my turn.”

“It's your luck'ey day, mate. I’m not complaining too much either” he shrugged. “It’s always a pleasure when we switch”

“Bem! Someone was in the mood and didn't tell me.”

The blond laughed slowly and then positioned himself over Gabriel, allowing his hands to relax the sensitive skin, in ascending and descending all over his body. Eyes closed and a lazy smile, Arthur let himself settle down, until the warm hands on his cheeks made him see his lover’s face again.

"Ready to ride?"

“Yes.”

Arthur rested his hands onto the other's chest, deep kiss to hide his moaning. The Portuguese's hands found his pale waist and beyond, touching his ass to hold tightly and tenderly to make the ride easier.

“Ngh!”

“Just relax.”

After a moment everything became more gentle and the fingers more inquisitive. Arthur bit his lip, smiling and running his tongue over his mouth, anticipating the oncoming pleasure when he felt the tip of the other’s member at his entrance.

“Stop overthinking, Gabe, you’re making me anxious.”

“That’s the idea.”

Suddenly, Portugal sank him down quickly, and provoked in Arthur a lewd cry that turned into laughter and then a deep groan.

"Aaah yes! This is what I wanted! You're perfect.” Kirkland sat down better, biting his lip and facing towards the ceiling with half-closed eyes. “Just a little more... a little-“

“Mhh!” Gabriel frowned at the tightness, but the next thrust pushed him fully into his partner, sighing with relief and pleasure.

The breeze was more intense between them, the scent of roses and lavenders sweeter, until everything began to mix and instead of wisps of dust in the air, threads of light began to form, like spider webs that could barely be seen when hit by the sun; and it stopped, shining like gold. And again. And again.

Suddenly, it was night and day; and it was winter, and spring, and summer, and fall; there were noises, music and then silence; as if they passed between people and events with great speed.

As their bodies synched into rhythm and Arthur began to ride Gabriel, the sharpness of those golden threads around them began to narrow, surrounding them; they were everywhere, they were part of everything; they even came out of them. In those movements, their strings began to braid to a point where they looked like two creatures woven from the same skein, barely distinguishable from each other.

"Aah!"

"Ah-Arthur!"

But they didn't seem to notice; they only felt the building pleasure of where they were connected; one that grew closer and closer to orgasm.

"Gabe-!"

It all happened at the same time; the climax, collapsing onto the other's chest and hugging each other, squeezing their arms, as if they were going to disappear. But they laid horizontally on the bed, breathing heavily.

When they parted ways and looked at each other, they were no longer the ones from the mirror of the human world.

When they looked out the window, the skies were pink, the sun blue, and the fields orange.

After many centuries, they had come to the Dreamworld together.

***

#aph portugal #aph england #engport #porteng #engportevent #engportweek #engportweekevent #hws england #hws portugal #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia #fanfiction #hetalia axis powers #aph #hws #engportsin

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your-old-sins-tournament · 4 months

Text

12 YEAR OLD OCS; SIDE B

Drake Blue [@silveredcircuitry] (she/her)

I was OBSESSED with Drake for like. several years. I drew her so much. Funnily enough though she was never the main protagonist, generally serving the role of "the narrator's best/first friend who knows magic in this urban fantasy setting". She was the extroverted, knowledgeable, tomboyish foil to my various introverted, new-to-this, vaguely feminine self-inserty protagonists I wrote. Her full first name is Dracanea or something but no iteration of her is terribly fond of it. She also for some reason used an abbreviation of her last name in early versions (I guess to either sound less pretentious or blend in) but eventually i just made Blue her actual last name upon understanding nobody does that.

She's half dragon on her mother's side, giving her an array of abilities that shifted a bit depending on whether I felt like including them. These almost always included superhuman strength and resilience, flight, and some flavor of pyrokinesis. She has wings that she could shapeshift away in some iterations but her flight is more magic channeled through having her wings out than actually using them properly. Also sometimes fangs which I rarely drew on her. Generally not great at the magic in the setting but not so much catastrophically terrible so much as she just. doesn't use magic that often.

She fucking hated dresses and preferred to wear whatever was comfortable and easy to climb/run/fly/fight/do whatever else in. I have one drawing of her burning a bunch of dresses and other girly accessories and I genuinely cannot tell if this was me characterizing her as a TomboyTM, just part of my "let's be feminist in the most cliche ways possible because i have unresolved issues and all the boys in my class bully me" phase, or Indicative of Something TM. Or like. All three.

She was a whole bunch of things kid-me thought was cool, but not in what seems to be the usual way. She wasn't someone I wanted to BE so much as someone I wanted to be friends with. Strong in a lot of ways that I was weak in, and I think having more distance between her and myself than the aforementioned dozens of self-inserts helped get me more obsessed with her. ALSO one of my earliest developed non-insterting-an-existing-person-or-character-into-the-story OCs.

she also made it into my very dead webcomic that i will not share a title or too too much information about besides the fact that i made her slightly terrible at hiding her powers and also in a lopsided rivalry with a sorceror who keeps trying to beat her in a fight just to prove he can. He doesn't actually succeed ever and she is increasingly annoyed with him especially once he dragged someone else into it. She could shove him in a locker and he would not be able to stop her.

Max D. Rose [@therealsirsticker] (she/her)

I did make when I was 12, she’s a demon who attends a demon boarding school and is an orphan who was raised in the human realm and believed she was human. She’s like. 16 I think. I still have like pages of old comics I made of it, I can send those in if you want lol.anyways shes half plant demon and half fire demon and plant demons are Rare and Almost Extinct. Oh and of course like all demons she has a super powered up form because I was really into Naruto at the time. She’s gay with her roommate.

#old sins #ocs #polls #bracket tournament #ocs you made when you were 12 tournament #drake blue #max d rose

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acemapleeh · 2 years

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22 and 40 for Canada?

22: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Sketching has been a pastime of his for a long time, Matt will almost always absent-mindedly start doodling. He likes the feeling of pencils and charcoal moving across paper, not even noticing the side of his hand is grey and dirty. He prefers to draw things before him, portraits and landscapes, rather than anything abstract.

Something will begin to take shape in front of him, messy and not always accurate, but shapes and ideas of something that exists will present themselves on the page before him.

40: How misanthropic are they?

Honestly, I don't think any of the nations truly are.

Are there times when they think their entire government is full of half-brain twits?

Absolutely.

Does he do double takes at some of the choices his people make?

Definitely.

Can you find him fucking off into the forests and tundra of the unknown because people are just too much?

Without a doubt.

But at the end of the day, what makes Canada Canada, and any nation, are the people. If there are no people, then what's the point of his existence? It's the culture people developed in his home that make him who he is. He doesn't have to agree with everything, but that doesn't mean that he dislikes his people as a whole.

They're a part of him.

When he sees their successes, their failures- those are as much theirs as they are his.

Matthew going absolutely feral out in nature is a struggle of his. His wilderness is just as much a part of him as his cities and urbanized areas are. Why deal with people that give him a migraine day in and day out when he can sleep in a cave in the middle of nowhere and forget to be human?

He knows he shouldn't lose himself like that.

The call of the wild is a strong temptation he caves into more than he'd like to admit.

But he could never truly hate his people because their hearts keep his own beating.

#hws canada #matthew williams #dumb little headcanons

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usurpgod · 4 months

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𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚈 ... ▐ 𝙿𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵𝙵.

C:/Users/usurp/Videos ... an original character, inspired by the found footage horror genre (especially the film grave encounters). PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION: content will include "weird core" imagery, and general r rated horror themes. minors and personals, do not interact. created years ago and brought back jan. '24, by perseus (22, he/it).

I MAY EVENTUALLY MAKE A CARRD, BUT FOR NOW, INFO IS UNDER THE CUT. MOST INFO OTHER THAN THE BASICS / MOST IMPORTANT BITS WILL POP UP IN RAMBLES / META POSTS. IF YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW MORE OR HAVE QUESTIONS, FEEL FREE TO SEND IN AN ASK OR DM ME. <3

GEN. RULES. PIN BOARD. TUNES (1) (2) (3). SIDEBLOG. NSFW SIDEBLOG.

IMPORTANT NOTE: louis is NOT an "easy" person to get along with, or an "easy" person, period. they are incredibly blunt and have diagnosed bpd and cptsd + undiagnosed autism. they may be half monster in a literal, biological sense, but their diagnosis / undiagnsis does not make them a monster / evil / etc. as an added note, if you haven't already, i highly suggest taking a look at this blog. i do extensive research on disorders and mental illnesses that i both have and don't have, but please dm me if i've said anything wrong, misinterpreted something, etc. all of my blogs are a safe space for people with cluster b disorders, and if i see that yours is not in any way, i will hard block.

NAME: louis lamb, no middle name. often goes by lou, sometimes referred to by its last name. AGE: 27, and will stop physically aging at 30. IDENTITY: transmasc nonbinary (it/he/they). bisexual with a preference for women and feminine people, greyromantic. SPECIES: "mutant." child of an ageless entity (eldritch monster) and an immortal man (who is just some guy). OCCUPATION: previously worked on limbo stalkers, a televised paranormal investigation show. is now the cameraman for notfound, a group of urban explorers and paranormal debunkers on youtube and twitch. thumbnail artist and video editor for others on the side.

ANOTHER NOTE: lou is definitely under the "op" muse umbrella because of his abilities, especially when he's learned to control or mostly control them. however, i will NEVER use said abilities in writing unless we have chatted and plotted it out beforehand. (the main "op" ability is reality warping.)

SPARKNOTES:

lou has no idea what the hells it is, and is not open about its abilities or "true" form (which i will eventually draw...) unless it has come to trust you enough to do so, OR if they lose control over their emotions and can't real them in in time to stop itself (lights may flicker in their vacinity if they feel a sudden strong emotion, whether negative or positive; they have a lot more control over their abilities than they used to, but emotions are fickle).

i will write out a more detailed bio eventually, but for now: their entity parent gave birth to them in a cabin in the woods, left them there, and at the sound of other people, lou mimiced a human child around the age of 3 years old. he was taken to the nearest city, questioned, and put into foster care. his time in foster care was not great, ranging from terrible foster parent(s) to being bullied and accidentally turning people into toys or frogs. taken in at age 8 by two men with four daughters between them, and adopted half a year later (they had to get all new lightbulbs for every light in the house).

part 2 ^ : he got his first camcorder for his 9th birthday after expressing a LOT of interest in cameras and the Art behind videography ... graduated high school early at 16 after skipping a grade in middle school ... met limbo stalkers after taking part in an amatuer film contest and winning, became their cameraman at 17 and worked for them for two years before they went to the building that would be home to their demise. went missing for three years, what was only three weeks to lou, and was found and deemed sole survivor of a case now gone cold. (its abilities went haywire bc it didn't have full control over them, and the building was already Not Normal so it was just a mess.)

was there for the Creation of notfound after meeting three people with an interest in urban exploring (two of which already had solo youtube channels + twitch streamed). it was recognized, and usually it would get annoyed and write someone off, but they weren't weird or rude or shitty about recognizing it (and only talked about the film he did for the contest way back when + expressed their interest in hiring him for camera work and editing).

it is 6'5" in human form, and reaches just above 12' in its "true" form. its "true" form looks almost like a shadow figure, solid but with an air of thick mist radiating from it like fire. it has four humanoid arms, five fingers each with short claws, and six smokey, angel-like wings sprouting from its back + smaller wings where a human's ears would be. it has humanoid feet with sharp / clawed toenails (think tiefling), and two long tails that look like they'd be furry at the ends (again, fire-like in animation). its face is featureless save for five eyes that look like a starry night sky (two main eyes, two smaller ones under them, and one vertical just above where hte bridge of their nose would be) and never blinks. HOWEVER, they can smile, and when they do, it spans the whole width of its face, and ALL of its teeth are sharp (though the canines are elongated). it's also very bulky / muscular in general shape.

in his "true" form, he can be "docile," just meaning that when you touch him, it feels misty but doesn't hurt ... OR it can make itself more dangerous, and either freeze or burn people by touching them / having them touch it.

its eldritch parent was a lot less,,, describable, in appearance, akin to a biblically accurate angel, but since louis' father was human, its form is a lot more. Describable and Discernable adshjs. it can also take on certain traits while remaning in human form, such as gradient hands/feet, sharp nails, tails, wings, extra eyes, etc.

extra note: lou IS in therapy, has found a great therapist that works for it (after going through several questionable therapists), and its therapist / the fact it goes to therapy may be brought up in threads. it got top surgery at 24, and never plans on getting bottom surgery + doesn't mind any terms. when it comes to referring to them, they use typically masculine terms such as sir, man, and mister. ask them about gender and sexuality -- it's one topic they LOVE talking about.

#updated jan. 4 '24 #2024... damn #prev. roach / five

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kittymsmithwritesstuff · 2 years

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Which legends can draw

Okay for the record anything made by Horizon is very cute and in that weird liminal space where it isn't bad but it isn't good, almost Avant garde but with that touch of Mom™ that means if she does a little doodle on her kid's lunch bag they'll probably keep it.

Does that make sense? I don't care.

Anyway legends that can ACTUALLY draw.

Short answer: Bloodhound, Wattson, Bangalore, Rampart, Seer, Fuse, Valkyrie.

Long answer:

Bloodhound: Probably the best out of them all. Particularly good at animals, but has an almost eerie ability to capture people in pencil, almost a photograph without being photorealistic. With animals and people they have a knack for catching that one piece of movement that just makes them feel alive. This is because of many, many, many many hours spent alone in the wilderness, on hunts or other expeditions. They leave little notes by drawings of plants to record what is and isn't poisonous and have actually sent in some small sketches to help with identification of rare flora and fauna to scientific boards in Gaea. Most of their notes in their sketchbook are the little things they notice about people and animals, though.

Bangalore: Canonly she got like a B in art and I just see her super stylized. Not award winning, but bold. Uses really harsh, dark lines and is one of those people that instead of starting out with too many light tones starts out way too dark, but eventually develops a really interesting style similar to old-school comic books. Would draw for her little cousins but not really for her family members. Reflecting her style, her favorite thing was to draw comics even if she didn't read them much. She figured out she was gay when she realized she wasn't drawing naked women to "practice anatomy".

Wattson: This is also canon if you read the lore book, but spending a lot of time on her own with almost complete control of what she did with said time left Wattson to learn, well, whatever she wanted, and one of those things was how to draw. She got a couple tutorial books, looked it up on the internet, and developed a clean, methodical style. One of those people where she says something is a "sketch" and you kind of wanna punch hit her but she's too damn nice. She tends to draw on the "cutesy" side of things, looooves to draw chibi-like characters. Will often use drawings to cheer Wraith up in particular. (Wraith has kept every single one). She's not very good at drawing anything but people and clothing, and her cat, but she's trying to branch out.

Rampart: Yeah it's canon, I know. Street art to the core, main method is spray paint and it started because of all the cool tags and art she saw in Gaea growing up. When she started doing it herself instead of being mad about it, her parents made her promise not to get caught more than twice. They actually got her art lessons, too. They bored her to tears, but they were helpful. Anatomy always comes out a little wonky though. Did find out she liked acrylic so she will use that. Used to make a little side money doing window paintings for Christmas.

Seer: Art was a method of expression and stress relief for him. It's really out there, somewhere between Picasso and Dali most of the time, but he can do some really intense human figures-think Alexandre Cabanel or any intense emotional figures in art in the 19th century. It's mostly a therapy thing for him and a test of skill, so a lot of people don't know how good he is at it. Loba has one of his pieces on her ship.

Fuse: Got into drawing because it was an easy way to goof off during class without getting caught. Style lands somewhere between Bangalore and Bloodhound really-there's a lot of movement and life in what he draws, and he can whip it out real fast. Half drunk drawing on a napkin can be a very cool sketchy vibe, prefers urban landscapes and people and will typically add dialogue or titles he finds funny to his drawings. Maggie used to make fun of him for it, but when they got older she actually got him a sketch book one Christmas and he really went off with it. There's a very "homey" feeling to his drawings, and he's always happy to sketch something for a friend. Has never been shy about sharing his stuff. After Maggie died, Bloodhound told him to try keeping a journal to help process his thoughts, and it's turned into half journal half illustration of his day, feelings, thoughts, etc. Bloodhound is the only one that's ever seen inside that particular journal. Similarly, he's one of the only ones, besides Loba, that's seen their sketchbook.

Valkyrie: I can kinda see her into drawing, but strictly anime. Not because she's Japanese or anything but because she gives the vibe of some kids I knew in high school who were like, really good at art, but only anime art, and soon as they stepped out of that it was like anatomy had fallen with the Roman empire and everything just kind of looked off. This isn't meant to be a bad thing I just see her very, very specific and not one to branch out from that particular style or develop one of her own. Really good at stylized landscapes though, and is in fact overall very good at converting any person or thing into a sort of anime style (I don't know enough about the different ones to specify).

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newswcanonprompts · 3 years

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Urban magic SW AU

(again, direct quotes)

(also, poster’s note: how would the clones tie into this AU? very interesting. also, i want art for this, that’d be so badass i feel like. unfortunately I can’t draw for shit so... idk i’ll just dream about it. sorry, anyways, BACK TO THIS)

I just read ‘domestic’ as ‘demonic’ and thought this was a very different conversation.

Anakin is a demon obi-wan summoned after fostering a kid because he can't cook.

Imagine being so bad at cooking your first instinct is to summon a demon to do it for you rather than like, buy a cookbook.

“Okay you summoned me what do you want me to do”

“Oh my god please cook, I am taking care of a child who needs protein and is allergic to soy and I haven’t cooked or eaten meat in two decades please help me”

“You know I'm a flexitarian who gets my protein from soy and bugs, right?”

“Oh my god i'm doomed!”

Vader, dark, looming shadow, eyes like molten gold: “wHy dId yOU SUmmON mE?”

Obi-Wan, cursing: “Oh fuck, I, uh, was trying for minor deity of ah, home keeping. uhm. Is your name Anakin? I just need somebody who can cook for my kid.”

Insert Vader's form shifting.

Anakin: “Oh gosh finally somebody who doesn't want blood!”

Obi-Wan: “Do you just have split personalities or something?”

Anakin: “Do you want my life story or do you want me to cook for you?”

Obi-Wan: "Can you multitask?"

A family can be a local demonology professor and alchemist, a witch in the making and technically a prince of hell with a backstory that needs unlocking.

Can this also be a “pretending to be married” au cause I need someone to show up and be like “Obi-Wan who is this nice man?

"This is definitely not a demon uhhhhh. This is, thIS IS MY HUSBAND!!!!!”

anakin: o.O

And Vader would always tease him about it, but sticks around anyway because he doesn’t want to go back to his demon master.

If this is an AU where summoning demons is normal, Obi-Wan would be more embarrassed about his reason for summoning, so he pretends the demon is his husband to hide the fact that he summoned for cooking help.

Maybe his dad Qui-Gon is a professional chef and puts a lot of pressure on him to be a good cook?

I don’t know, maybe not Qui-Gon but having that pressure. RATATOUILLE! VADER IS REMY! BUT VADER IS NOT A RAT BECAUSE WE ARE NOT MAKING A BEE MOVIE EDIT OF THIS!

Obi-Wan: “ Look, my mentor and I already argue over the fact that I chose to abandon divination for alchemy, I do not need him learning of my abysmal cooking!”

Anakin being a wonderful "wife" and just a great person. Then Obi-Wan gets threatened. Tells Obi-Wan to go somewhere and Vader just slaughters the threat.

I'm absolutely imagining the kid Obi-Wan’s taking care of is baby Luke, maybe he was taken from Vader as a baby and Obi-Wan found him? THAT'S gonna introduce some tension between him and Vader!

Anakin, staring at Luke: “Where did you find him?”

Obi-Wan: “On the street somewhere? Why?”

Anakin, preparing to go fight Sidious: “I need to kill a demon.”

WAIT, DOES THIS MAKE BABY LUKE HALF DEMON? How about half-angel instead?

No wonder he needs so much protein! Luke's diet has been all over the place in the past 4 months.

I think it's hilarious if Luke is half demon but stays the ray of sunshine we all know and love. Like yeah you go Luke, break those stereotypes!

Wait, where Padme is this?

Padmé hmm.... how about Vaderkin's previous summoner? And then Sidious Happened™️.

She is the person who summoned Vaderkin for similar reasons to Obi-Wan, then they fell in love, and had Luke (and Leia)

and Sidious happened, but Vaderkin didn't now, and.......

Sidious happened first and turned Anakin who was some,,, idk weird local deity/spirit into Vader and when he escaped:

he met Padmé, a talented magician who tried to fix it and make him Anakin again, which,,,, didn't really work.

It only cut his tie to Sidious so he's not holding the leash anymore.

Other side effects are the creation of Luke & Leia.

Which are basically the residue magic given form, hence them both being half and half.

And Vaderkin sort of disappeared in the whole mess so Padmé, injured but alive, grabbed the kids and ran, later hid Luke with Obi-Wan, Leia with Bail & Breha while now attempting to take down Sidious.

And Padmé thinks anakin actually died in the process.So we can have the whole family AND badass Padmé!

And then Obi-Wan just finds baby!Luke and takes care of him and summons Anakin without knowing that Anakin is Luke's father...

Which would make Padmé checking in on Obi-Wan and Luke a lot more hilarious if Anakin just opens the door.

(Oh boy when Padmé finds out about Obi-Wan's fake marriage to Anakin that's gonna be some CONFUSION!)

Okay okay okay, so Palpatine is the dean of the college Obi-Wan teaches at and has been refusing to give him tenure or a promotion or any good class for like five years.

I really want Anakin to be like a deity until Sidious dragged him down to hell. So Obi-Wan summons Anakin under his original deity name because he wants to cook and is surprised to get a demon.

Obi-Wan: “So you're anakin... and vader?”

Vaderkin: “Yeah”

Obi-Wan, holding a crying toddler and not giving any fucks anymore: “You know what this checks out.”

Anakin was probably some form of God, because Chosen One you know?

I mean this ties in nicely with the origin of his name so like. Make him a God of fate, make him a creation of the universe itself.

Stardust runs in his veins, galaxies are born in his eyes, and all of that.

He was corrupted once Palpatine dug his claws and spilled golden ichor, tainting it the red of mortality, darkening to the unholy black blood of the underworld.

Oh yes!!!! So, the backstory:

He was stolen from his mother by Sidious, made a half-demon, then left and married Padmé, they had Luke and Leia.

Sidious trapped Anakin again and made him a full demon this time through the burning and lots of pain, he thinks he killed Padmé, but she is looking for him and trying to get him back but can't raise the twins

because she's trying to find their father and make him human again,

and he tried to kill Padmé against his will, but she still believes in him.

Jedi are people who use the magic that create the demons and the gods to do good or something.

I mean Obi-Wan's still running around as a mortal.

Someone needs to wrangle these supernatural idiots and he's unfortunately the best person for the job.

If this is urban fantasy then Jedi could be the term for people that use magic

How about we tie this to the Fallen Angel Anakin, and have Anakin who was once a god, but was dragged down by Sidious

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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FEATURE: Japanese Myths And How They're Depicted In Horror Anime

No matter the time or place, the folklore and myths of the past always persist. The same can also be said for anime, especially when it comes to horror. Certain franchises, such as Shigeru Mizuki’s classic GeGeGe no Kitaro, have solidified the omnipresent status of traditional Japanese folk monsters in popular culture. Other series, such as Osamu Tezuka’s Dororo interpret traditional folklore in relation to historical periods and changing attitudes toward religion. More recently, series from the 2010s and 2000s, such as Bakemonogatari and Ghost Stories, interpret the classics with modern sensibilities. When it comes to stories with a penchant for horror, it would be far more surprising if they didn’t allude to a shared supernatural mythology — the ubiquity is the point.

Neko-Musume on her smartphone

The best horror always tries to do something new. While creatures like yōkai (a wide umbrella of supernatural entities) are well-known among English-speaking fans today thanks to series like Yokai Watch, these re-imaginings always tend to play fast and loose with fidelity. Wouldn’t it be boring if every vampire movie started and ended with Dracula? In a 2016 interview with The Comics Journal, veteran manga translator Zack Davisson emphasizes this important tendency to re-contextualize old folklore:

“It’s a tricky question, as it is impossible to say what is ‘actual folklore.’ Vampires bursting into flame is considered ‘authentic,’ but that actually comes from the films, not folkloric sources. Folklore evolves and [Shigeru] Mizuki is an important part of that evolution. If you trace them back, most yokai we know come from Toriyama Sekien, who also just made things up. In fact, I would say that making up yokai is part of the grand tradition of yokai! If you are a writer/artist working with yokai and not making up at least a few of your own, you are missing the point!”

The original spirit gun

So that’s all to say — there really is no such thing as a definitive, one-to-one story based on centuries of tradition. Yōkai, as endearing as they are, are also just one part of the equation. Long-running anime such as Folktales from Japan and fantasy series Inuyasha-continuation Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon either re-tell or draw inspiration from that folklore. But that’s beyond the scope of this piece. Whether it be adaptations of urban legends about school bathrooms or vengeful spirits, I hope this round-up helps any casual or long-time anime fan appreciate how these series reimagine supernatural traditions.

Fantastic Folklore: GeGeGe no Kitaro & Mononoke

The late Shigeru Mizuki’s most influential character, Kitaro, hardly needs any introduction. In his book Yokai Attack! The Japanese Monster Survival Guide, translator Matt Alt describes yōkai as “the attempts of the fertile human imagination to impose meaning and rationality on a chaotic, unpredictable, often difficult-to-explain world.” Many yōkai are quite strange and sometimes even comedic. Scholar-artists, such as the previously mentioned Toriyama Sekien, are largely credited with inspiring their uncanny visual representations, making them the perfect subject matter for an accessible series.

The tanuki plot world domination

The titular Kitaro himself is a half-human, half-yōkai one-eyed boy who travels between the human and spirit world to resolve monster-of-the-day conflicts with his friends. Although Mizuki’s Kitaro as we know it began serialization in 1960, Mizuki originally received permission to re-imagine the character from Masami Itō, who first created Kitaro in the 1930s in pre-war Japan. The most recent 2018 anime series re-establishes Kitaro in a modern setting, yet still adapts many of the most iconic stories. Characters such as Neko-Musume, based on volatile cat spirits called bakeneko, are updated with new designs while Kitaro mostly remains the same. Mizuki’s older creations, such as the jubokko (vampire tree) yōkai, are still featured alongside a new re-imagining of the “wall monster” nurikabe — inspired by the discovery of an Edo manuscript in 2007. The appeal of Kitaro isn’t so much the meticulous adherence to yōkai mythos, but rather Mizuki’s continual improvisation of the folklore-informed monster-making tradition.

The Medicine Seller

Beyond Kitaro, other series, such as 2006’s Mononoke, dedicate entire storylines to a wider category of ayakashi (sea-bound yōkai) and funayūrei (boat spirits) written by none other than Chiaki J. Konaka. Later episodes feature bakeneko and nue (chimera monsters), but with a twist. The term mononoke itself refers to a variety of yōkai specifically referring to vengeful spirits possessing people or things. When it comes to series taking a more “fantastical” approach to folklore, both Mononoke and Kitaro thankfully never dissolve into simple rogue galleries of monsters — their (mostly) human protagonists largely remain the heart of their chilling saga.

Horror-Historical: Osamu Tezuka’s Dororo

Lord Kagemitsu Daigo makes a pact with the demons (Source: Amazon)

In Anime and Its Roots in Early Japanese Monster Art scholar Zília Papp comments Mizuki’s “Kitaro characters became synonymous with yōkai in the postwar period, continuing to the present time” compared to his peers like Tezuka. But if Kitaro made yōkai big in comedic manga, then Tezuka’s short-lived Dororo manga drove this interest toward the historical context of the Sengoku Period, or the “warring states” era of feudal Japan.

Rather than depicting spirits as purely whimsical mischief-makers, Dororo’s inciting event is a feudal lord of the fictional Daigo clan forging a pact with 48 demons, who persist to hunt his son long after the pact is forged. In his feature The History Behind Osamu Tezuka’s Dororo, Marco Oliveros comments that by depicting yōkai during this period, Dororo draws inspiration from actual shifts in changing Buddhist attitudes toward these entities:

“One of the foremost examples of this change to yokai is the tengu. Wrathful and demonic, the avian creature tricked and assaulted Buddhist clerics and civilians alike, becoming characterized as the sworn enemy of Buddhism. The apparent hostility of these yokai to Buddhism makes their dark deals with Dororo's Daigo an unsurprising turn of events for the Sengoku Jidai era.”

The Amanojaku is captured and sealed inside a Buddhist temple (Source: Amazon)

Matt Alt’s 2016 translation of Japandemonium Illustrated: The Yokai Encyclopedias of Toriyama Sekien describes the tengu (mask-wearing entities usually depicted as half-man half-bird) as “deeply associated with the religion of Shugendō,” which originated during the Heian period; however they were depicted very differently in major Buddhist sects of the same era. Unlike solely “fantastical” stories of the supernatural without much acknowledgment to historical context, Dororo is interested in this context regarding capricious attitudes of spirits of people alike. Impressive malevolent entities such as kyūbi (nine-tailed foxes) also fight against Dororo’s protagonist, Hyakkimaru, typical of supernatural jidaigeki (period drama) horror stories set in feudal Japan.

However, Dororo also features lesser entities such as amanojaku (tiny, goblin-like demons). According to the influential illustrated encyclopedia Wakan Sansai Zue compiled by Sekien-predecessor Terajima Ryōan, amanojaku and tengu were described as paired descendants of the evil goddess Amanozako (literally "tengu god"). According to scholar Haruko Wakabayashi in The Seven Tengu Scrolls: Evil and the Rhetoric of Legitimacy in Medieval Japanese Buddhism, tengu were symbolically invoked in inter-personal and religious feuds amongst Buddhist sects during the Heian period. The amanojaku depicted in Dororo is minor. But with a (simplified) understanding of its affiliation with tengu’s pre-Heian origins and its subsequent disavowal by influential Buddhist sects, Dororo's amanojaku cameo is an undeniable nod toward its theme of “old ways” impacted by a "new" institutionalized status quo.

Hyakkimaru battles the nine-tailed fox spirit in its spectral form (Source: Amazon)

While the nine-tailed fox spirit is flashy, Dororo’s amanojaku ends up pathetically sealed inside a Buddhist temple. Ironically, the amanojaku trapping scene pans from the top of a Buddhist statue, ending with the cartoonish amanojaku crushed underneath to visually imply its irrelevancy. Dororo is a story about the cultural and religious tensions brewing during this violent episode in history — making Hyakkimaru’s journey one that doesn’t simply depict supernatural folkloric tradition in stasis, but as something always under complicated socio-political stakes.

Modern Ghoul School: Ghost Stories & Bakemonogatari

What do you do if you can’t solve your evil spirit problems with a sword? For the most part, classics like Kitaro and Dororo take place in the past, or at least worlds very unlike our own. A traveling demon slayer never has to deal with student council or smartphones.

In a previous article, From Bakeneko to Bakemonogatari, I discussed all the possible lineages of the catgirl character archetype. In that piece, I claimed one of the more accurate representations of the bakeneko today was Bakemonogatari’s Tsubasa Hanekawa’s cat spirit-possessed alter-ego. It’s not simply because she is a supernatural catgirl, but rather her portrayal was obviously informed by the wider context of pre-existing bakeneko mythos. Is it possible for a “modern-day” series to tackle yesterday’s folktales while still preserving the uncanniness of the past?

The spirits possessing Bakemonogatari’s cast, referred to as “oddities,” all nearly function like vengeful mononoke spirits. For example, Bakemonogatari’s first arc, Hitagi Crab, features a crab “oddity” haunting classmate Hitagi Senjougahara. The existence of heikekani (face-shaped crabs allegedly the spirits of drowned Heike warriors from the Sengoku Period), might be a parallel, considering the arc’s theme of unresolved conflict. Another arc, Suruga Monkey, features an “oddity” taking the form of a beastly paw growing on classmate Kanbaru Suruga’s arm. Senjougahara and Suruga's crab/monkey relationship can be read as alluding to the well-known Buddhist tale “The Monkey and the Crab.” According to The National Gallery of Art on its 2019 The Life of Animals in Japanese Art exhibit, the monkey and crab are usually depicted as friends, then compete until they either make amends or resolve their conflict. Often the subject of artistic interpretation, it’s no surprise this tale found its way into anime as a metaphor for teen drama.

The kids scan a talisman and e-mail it to exorcise internet demons. Yes, this really happens.

In comparison, the 2000 series Ghost Stories is best known to English-speaking audiences for being an edgy comedy. However, its original source material, a book series titled Gakkō no Kaidan (School Ghost Stories), is more akin to a heavily researched Goose Bumps. Written by folklore scholar Toru Tsunametsu, the series showcases various urban myths and monsters, most famously “Hanako” a ghost girl who haunts school bathrooms. A 2014 NPR piece describes the most popular version of Hanako being a schoolgirl in WWII “using the bathroom when a bomb fell on top of the building.” Although Hanako gained enough popularity from the books to warrant her own spin-off anime series in 1994, she only makes a handful of cameos in the 2000 series. Entities like the previously mentioned amanojaku also appear, alongside shinigami (death gods) depicted in many other anime.

How to channel your ghost powers for success (Source: Funimation)

Hanako, because of her relatively modern backstory, is just as ubiquitous. Versions of Hanako appear in an episode of the 2018 Kitaro and most recently in the 2020 series Toilet Bound Hanako-kun. Tsunametsu currently edits the Folklore Society of Japan’s official academic journal, no doubt a testament to his priceless contributions to folklore representation in anime.

Who You Gonna Call?

There’s no way to tell the same ghost story twice. With such a layered history, contemporary anime have a nearly endless well of folkloric material to pull from. Recent series like the hit Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba and Toilet Bound Hanako-kun prove that fans will never get enough of the supernatural, just as long as things stay fresh.

Hanako politely warns the ghost-hunting kids

Long live artistic liberty and specters trying to watch you pee.

Blake P. is a weekly columnist for Crunchyroll Features. His twitter is @_dispossessed. His bylines include Fanbyte, VRV, Unwinnable, and more. He'd like a tiny yōkai cat.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Blake Planty

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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irritatedandroid · 3 years

Text

The Fire Burns Bright

A Personal Essay From an Alolan Marowak -Jasper (@irritatedandroid, @irritatedDroid)

Summary: Below the cut, this is a personal essay written by Jasper on his experiences with being an Alolan Marowak fictherian and fictionkind. Personal experience, discussion of awakening, shifts, instincts, animality, culture and spirituality are elaborated on alongside a critical view on community narratives and boundaries.

CWs: In-depth look on death, personal experiences with death

I find there isn’t enough discussion on the fact that nonhumanity can be approached from multiple different angles and axis, instead treated like a hard binary of animality vs humanity - or if you’re lucky, a two-way spectrum. I’m someone who is nonhuman through and through, but the way in which I can experience being “other” from humanity can shift wildly. A strong sense of animality is brought on when shifted towards my Alolan Marowak fictotype - enough that I tend to strongly identify with the word fictherian. Though that sense of animality is its own thing, and is a wholly separate scale from the nonhumanity I experience when shifted towards my android kintype. But the experiences drawn from being an android could fill an essay of their own. We’re here to discuss the Marowak.

Both very not human, both very “other”, but a wholly different view upon what it means to be human and not human respectively. And I suspect the scale my Marowak self experiences may be different as well from the scale any given earthen animal may experience. Similar enough to where therianthrope discussion rings loud mental bells of familiarity and understanding, but still something else worth acknowledging. After all, how many earthen animal therianthropes feel the raw instinct of fire breath? Were-dragons however may understand that one well. And yet that animality is not something to be ignored or to set aside entirely even if the axis runs at a slightly off angle in comparison.

My name is Jasper, and some of you might know me, I’ve been around the community for a couple of years. Some folks even remember the internal grapple with identity and understanding that I had when I started being unable to deny I am an Alolan Marowak. The moment when the Alolan Marowak design was teased, and I had pointed out the familiarity as well as the typing before it was actually shown. There was a moment then when experiences and vague, blurry memories I’d held onto quietly for years without the priority of digging in deeper - as I was already busy with questioning and understanding my android kintype - became an absolute priority of mine to understand further.

I often half-joke about how my “awakening” as discussed in nonhuman communities was completely rocky, as it was. It was less a solid awakening, and more multiple years of slowly accepting and embracing aspects of my life that had always been present, which I had denied either to ease my own responsibility to myself or to appease others. Folks in the community may recall seeing me step into denial, and to substitute in any possible reptilian, fire-based creature I could in order to try and understand the experiences. Because how could I be a Pokemon? I’d been critical of fictionkin while diving into the community, something which when looking back was likely a compensation for already having been something odd and to be met with criticism - the android. I ran through a number of species when questioning: everything from earthen lizards, to draconic entities, to the elemental spirits of salamanders.

There were multiple aspects absolutely vital to communicating what I was experiencing, those being a) instinct-driven and wild, reptilian, and b) inherently connected to the elements of fire and spirit. My thoughts could be as unflattering as a scavenger’s instinct, growing frustrated at any leftover food or uncleaned-up animal remains (which sure made living in a populated city interesting, with abandoned scraps of food everywhere and the leftovers of unfortunate urban creatures who tried their luck at crossing Yonge Street), or curious to try and make a meal for myself out of the live insects I keep to feed to my own little old leopard gecko, Saleen. Yes, she was named after a car. No, that is not important. Having her around does however provide an up close frame of reference to draw out my own lizard drives. In terms of food instincts, raw eggs are absolutely another tempter of mine, as my carnivorous scavenger self would have been ecstatic to see a nest of unattended eggs to make a meal of. As I’ve learned due to that raw eggs absolutely suck, please cook them. It’s much better that way. But embarrassing nonhumanity stories will always be embarrassing.

Some of us Marowak - especially the males like myself - could become quite territorial. And that territorial feeling is something I’ve had to settle in my mind over life. Nowadays it’s decently well integrated, but it does now and then try my patience especially when it comes to setting out what is for me and what belongs strictly to me. Renting a small apartment in a populated city, once again, does definitely force you to keep the “this land is mine and it belongs to me, so screw off before you chase off my dinner” thoughts in check. A bit of human humbling for an animal’s self thought. I’ve of course needed to remind myself a number of times that the tourists in the train station on my way to work, while annoying, won’t manage to chase off the Tim Hortons I’ll be eating on my break.

But in the wild frontier of the Pokemon world, predator and prey dynamics were absolutely important to know and understand - and those dynamics reach beyond game mechanics such as elemental types and abilities. Even as a carnivore, scavenger and troublesome predator that I was when I reached the age of a full-grown Marowak, I still was in a dangerous spot on the food chain. The worst predators I’ve had to deal with while working to survive in my ecosystems were other Fire types, intriguingly. Even as a small Ground type Cubone. The fact that Cubones wear the skull of their lost mothers was something I am familiar with, my own having been taken down by a Charizard. This natural order of predation is both a major part of my animalistic experiences as a Marowak, but also did tie into my more sophisticated or spiritually-focused aspects that stemmed from my Pokemon identity and lifetime.

All of this lead to an animality-focused time in figuring out what I was, to the point where when I was in denial of the possibility of being a Pokemon, I identified myself as a theriomythic, fire-oriented reptile. And the animality definitely tends to lead the discussion upon how I live and experience being an Alolan Marowak. I sometimes joke that you could strip that side of my life down to the bare essentials and I’d be a lizard hanging out by a campfire. Though it certainly isn’t every aspect of me, as the Marowak.

At times I think on the term theriomythic, and how it could be extremely valuable in describing more than just “animal but from myth”, but to also communicate experiencing the self on a spectrum of animality and mythicality. In my case this spectrum is very much there, and the aspects of experience that make up me as the Marowak are scattered along it. All aspects are important to me and how I live as myself, as well as how I understand my own fictional animality and nonhumanity.

The Marowak, despite being a wild animal in how I recall and experience my species, do have a displayed aspect of culture and even spirituality. Setting aside the fictional wildness of being able to summon up fire at will to defend one’s turf, we’re shown to be able to interact comfortably with each other when it comes time for rituals, such as fire dancing at the sun rise and to mourn the lost. Mourning the lost is a large part of how one can experience being the Marowak as well, as it’s a pretty integral part of the species’ canon lore, starting from when we’re little baby Cubones. For those unfamiliar with Pokemon lore, a Cubone wears the skull of its dead mother Marowak. Adorning bones in a sort of ritual to mourn is something that I can’t say I’ve seen an earthen animal do. If you have then please do let me know, because it interests me a lot. But all I can say about it in my own drives and thoughts is that it’s just what we do, it’s cultural. To cite the Pokedex, “MAROWAK is the evolved form of a CUBONE that has overcome its sadness at the loss of its mother and grown tough. This POKéMON’s tempered and hardened spirit is not easily broken” (Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire, 2002).

The donning and weaponizing of bones is both symbolic and an act of mourning, but also an example of tool using similar to some of our world’s apes. The Pokedex talks of this vaguely, stating “It has been seen pounding boulders with the bone it carries in order to tap out messages to others” (Pokemon Gold, 1999). The various Pokedex entries theorize on where the bone clubs come from, some entries mentioning a graveyard specifically for Marowak existing in the world, where Cubone and Marowak get their bones. Some entries state this like fact, such as Pokemon Crystal, meanwhile others bring up this as a rumour, such as Pokemon Silver. In my experience, it’s a rumour. I’ve not seen a Marowak graveyard, my bone club first came from my mother. But the main referenced use of the bone club is as a weapon, and also as a method of overcoming grief and turning to viciousness. “It is small and was originally very weak. Its temperament turned ferocious when it began using bones.” (Pokemon X, 2013). In my case, the symbolic use of them is as a tool of war, transforming grief into a vicious will to fight on and survive. Due to this, I hold bones and particularly skulls as a sacred object and have my small collection of skulls I keep as comfort objects. With time, having a large femur bone similar in shape is a life goal.

Though it does then get taken a step further, when peering in through the eyes of an Alolan variant Marowak. A spirituality that incorporates the dead and lost is brought in and becomes an extra step of important, crediting the Ghost type aspect alongside the Fire. Newer Pokedex entries focused on specifically this variant states “The bones it possesses were once its mother’s. Its mother’s regrets have become like a vengeful spirit protecting this Pokémon” (Pokemon Sun, 2016) and “It has transformed the spirit of its dear departed mother into flames, and tonight it will once again dance in mourning of others of its kind” (Pokemon Let’s Go, 2018). Spiritual awareness is very much accepted to be something that the Alolan Marowak possess and engage with openly, even building monuments to the lost as stated in the Generation 7 Pokedex entry: “Its custom is to mourn its lost companions. Mounds of dirt by the side of the road mark the graves of the Marowak” (Pokemon Moon, 2016).

Culturally there is a lot to the Marowak’s experience, comparing and including both Alolan and Kantonian variants of the species. The species as I remember are mostly solitary but I do recall clan dynamics and groups especially among the Alolan variant. These groups were less for survival and more for the purpose of those ritual gatherings, mentioned above. At times I was very foreign to these clans, being a Kanto-born Cubone evolved in Alola (a fact supported in canon and proven in Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon via the ability to evolve a Kanto Marowak in Ultra Space). Behaviorally and culturally there are differences between Kanto and Alolan Marowak, brought on by how each looks at their situation differently. While an Alolan Marowak processes mourning in a more spiritual way, a Kanto Marowak becomes hardened by anger. “A MAROWAK is the evolved form of a CUBONE that has grown tough by overcoming the grief of losing its mother. Its tempered and hardened spirit is not easily broken,” (Pokemon Emerald, 2004). Because of this there was a separation between myself and the local Marowak that reinforced my solitary nature, and also influenced my introverted and almost outright nomadic nature in my current life and self. The fire dance under the sunrise was one known in canon. These rituals and dances are a custom humans in canon have taken notice to, and can even speculate the reasoning for. “This Pokémon sets the bone it holds on fire and dances through the night as a way to mourn its fallen allies” (Pokemon Sword, 2019). The fact that that cultural dynamic prevailed even through the difficulty of communicating is something that may be surprising, but a number of nonhumans know well that body language and tone of animal vocalizations can go a long way in communicating

Ignoring these experiences would be a step towards cutting down and denying important experiences that affect me as a fictherian and as a Marowak. There’s important parts of how I experience being this Pokemon that are heavily grounded in a context of a mystical world where visibly potent acts of fantasy are possible unlike the world we are living in here. Some of these aspects can be emulated in more subtle ways through exploration of spirituality, religion and the occult. To dive deeper into that, I used to identify as Pagan, however now I practice what is called chaos magic. Chaos magic is a magical practice that developed in England in the 1960’s, working off of Austin Osman Spare’s occult practice and ideas. Chaos magic gave me an approach and freedom to incorporate what I know and remember as an Alolan Marowak into my every-day spirituality. Tailoring my spiritual beliefs and practices to focus on working with the element of fire, with spirits and the energy of death, bones, and to the very fabric of fiction crossing over into reality was extremely important as an avenue for me to explore the way my fictotype affects me in the modern day, and in the human body. This practice also gave me a bit of freedom to accept working with an entity from my source - Giratina - as a patron deity in pagan circles, which ultimately proved to be extremely valuable in exploring my own Pokemon identity. Practices like energy work, meditation, spirit work and visualization hit close to satisfying that need to be delved into the magical world we see in animation. And yet, even in these more sophisticated and fantastical experiences lie links back to the animality and to an inherent disconnect to humanity.

One thing I always enjoy in therianthrope and non-humanoid otherkin discussions is an openness to discuss the instincts that are ugly, disturbing or outside of what one’s human morals would ever agree with in this life and time. And in a lot of cases these instincts and memories can become a lot more “ugly” than a scavenger’s drive to eat carcasses or the awareness and cynical eye needed to survive in a completely wild world. At times, a wild creature can have defense mechanisms or behaviors that to our human minds would seem outright malicious. And Pokemon, even in the whimsical canon, are no exception to that. Once again I’ll drag up a few Pokedex entries - as honestly the Pokedex is a wonderful thing for exploring the deeper aspects of a wild Pokemon - to illustrate my point. “When it beats opponents with its bone, the cursed flames spread to them. No amount of water will stop those flames from burning,” (Pokemon Ultra Moon, 2017) and “The cursed flames that light up the bone carried by this Pokémon are said to cause both mental and physical pain that will never fade” (Pokemon Shield, 2019).

Yes, even the fun and magical world of Pokemon is no stranger to wild animals who inflict effects upon others that seem absolutely awful, and in some cases cruel. But, that’s survival in the animal kingdom, or in this case the Pokemon kingdom. It can be surprising to some that a person who’s fictotype hails from the fun and upbeat franchise that defined a number of childhoods may be hardened to the need to survive in a natural world. The things I know I had done to creatures who my childhood Pokemon fan self would have only wanted to hug, at least at a baseline mental state. In a shift, that’s a different story after all.

But ultimately, this blend of experiences causes an interesting time in exploring myself within the general nonhuman community as it can be quite split up. Certain narratives of individual communities I can’t find myself fitting into, or find myself sitting in between. I settle into spaces focused on everything from therianthropy, to mythical otherkinity, and to fictionkinity, though there’s narratives and cultural aspects in every separated community that either are foreign to me or that I might confront as they expect clear-cut boxes between them which individuals can fit into. In therianthrope communities I’ve been one to criticize the expectation of a solid line between human and animal experiences, or in general animal vs non-animal with regards to forcing a further divide from the otherkin community. I’ve also been involved in discussion criticizing therian community narratives such as a shifting focus and the model of integration. The model of integration is interesting to me, as I experienced it in a way that I was unaware of at the time, particularly with my android kintype. My android kintype is almost fully integrated into me - I barely shift at all at least mentally. However my Marowak fictotype provides less integration, and my mental shifting will be a lot more noticeable against my baseline self. At times it can be as stark as appearing like a different person, or more accurately like a wild animal. But ultimately the differences in the closeness of each kintype draws up issues for me with the integration model, as well as having found it normalized a severe mental health issue I had with my traumagenic plurality at the time of “least integration”.

The therianthrope community is far from the only community with narratives that put a barrier between me and relating, especially as members of each community push for further separation between individual branches of nonhuman experience and identity. I have trouble relating to humanoids when heavily shifted towards my Marowak self, and that puts a bit of a barrier between myself and the otherkin community’s more humanoid side - such as elven, fae, divine, angelic, etc. - as well as the fictionkin community’s focus on humanoid or completely story-driven fictionkind. I have no use for prioritized experiences within the fictionkin community such as finding canon-mates and creating aesthetics. Even in some Pokemon fictionkin specific communities I find I cannot relate often. My experience with my “Pokemanity” is heavily wild and animal-based as I was never caught, socialized with a human, or trained. In no way shape or form is my Pokemanity adjusted to interaction with humans, nor is it something that is settled down or subdued for human consumption unlike what my source was created for.

In both otherkin, therian and even fictionkin communities there is a push towards prioritizing the narrative of a solid awakening. That’s one more focus in the communities that I struggle with, as like I said before, mine was a process of accepting bits of myself which spanned multiple years. Every part of me that is nonhuman has always been present within my life, though for almost two decades muted heavily.

To draw back into my spiritual practice here, consider a practice known as shadow work. Shadow work is a practice that hybridizes spirituality and psychology, and describes the process of becoming aware of one’s shadow (the id, shadow archetype, or shadow aspect drawn from Carl Jung’s psychology) and working to integrate it into oneself by accepting the repressed parts of oneself that are pushed back and merged into the shadow. The shadow can be known as the unknown dark side of the personality, and I theorize that more nonhumans have undesirable aspects of their nonhumanity pushed onto their shadow than they might think they do, like I had done to my own Pokemanity for a number of years. In my case, I was slightly forced to tear into and meet my shadow aspects of my nonhumanity due to the fact that even upon immediately breaking into nonhuman communities, the specifics of what I was were already viewed with hostility and disbelief. In a way, it strengthened me. But with my shadow opened wide and not much held back, I can be a bit of a fire-starter in spaces where I speak my mind whether others want to hear it or not. And part of that is directly confronting the forced separation of animal vs non-animal, or the arbitrary ideas of what is a human experience and what is not.

I can only best put forward my experience as a Pokemon through in-depth discussion, which I find tends to come across better in spaces where the experience of being by-and-large a feral animal is allowed without restraint. Ultimately a space I will thrive in most and be most open about my experiences and life as someone who is spiritually and psychologically an Alolan Marowak is one where I can discuss both my animality, my experience with fiction, my spiritual practice and the combination of these things that seem to be pushed into separate boxes. The Marowak serves a lot to my sense of self and to my life, and has psychological affects on me as well. It’s been a part of me that has fought through and survived when my life hit a rocky start early on, witnessing the death of my brother in childhood, and having loss and grief be present all around as I grew. The Marowak is both an inherent part and vital context in my life, as well as a symbol of my own endurance.

Through it all, the fire burns bright.

Citations

Marowak POKÉDEX: Stats, MOVES, evolution & locations. (n.d.). Retrieved April 23, 2021, from https://pokemondb.net/pokedex/marowak

Chryssides, George D. (2012). Historical Dictionary of New Religious Movements (2 ed.). Rowman & Littlefield. p. 78. ISBN 978-0-8108-6194-7.

Jung, C.G. 1938. "Psychology and Religion." In Psychology and Religion: West and East, Collected Works of C.G. Jung 11. p. 131

Roberts, Gwilym Wyn, and Andrew Machon. 2015. Appreciative Healthcare Practice: A guide to compassionate, person-centred care. M&K. ISBN 1907830936. p. 71.

#essays #personal essay #fictherian #fictionkin #fictionkind #otherkin #otherkind #personal log #alolan marowak #death tw

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before-the-black-pearl · 3 years

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I made those modern Jack and Fitzy headcanons over a year and a half ago. I started writing a modern!AU fic since then so I developed the headcanons more and I wanted to share some of them. Keep in mind this may be a little different than what I present in the actual fic. I’m making some shit up on the spot.

So picture this: The young Jack Sparrow books taking place today and all the characters are in high school in Tampa, Florida, and the school is called...

Barnacle High School

Jack the “I was at the door when the bell rang” Sparrow:

He’s one of The Boyz🥶🥵😎 But like the stupid kind who thinks they’re better than everyone else.

He’s a troublemaker and creates a lot of mischief around campus.

Mischief includes but not limited to: pulling the fire alarm multiple times, drilling holes between the boys and girls gym locker rooms, defaced a bunch of textbooks with The Boyz drawing dicks on every single page, one time he snuck into the office and played pr0n on the schoolwide intercom speaker, a time he gave everyone “shits and giggles” (laxative and weed) brownies at a school dance and caused everyone to shit and puke all over the gym floor and it made the news,..... How tf isn’t he expelled?

Unsurprisingly he gets in fights. The fights are half of the time started by other students, but gets in trouble anyway.

Constantly interrupts the teachers to the point where they write him up or kick him out.

Sometimes fucks with the quiet kids like “Hey, mate, do you know what we’re doing?” “Can you like teach it to me?” “You can do it for me, right?” “Why don’t you ever talk, mate?”

He’s actually pretty smart but the teachers don’t like him and home sucks so he gave up.

Probably has ADHD.

Wears layers, like leather, denim, flannels, t-shirts, hoodies, jeans of various “tightness”, studded belts, many pairs of combat boots or knockoff timbs. Half his shit is from Goodwill.

Undercuts for dayyyzzzz. Think Coming Storm cut but the bottom is shaved off.

Still wears his nasty ass bandana even though the teachers always tells him he can’t wear it in class.

His makeup literally always slaps.

He likes to collect random things and sometimes puts them on his clothes or his backpack or in his locker.

Obsessed with dead things (furs, pelts, bones, stuffed animals, etc)

Has a fascination with the sea and likes the nautical aesthetic.

Bonus: Yeah he totally vapes.

Arabella the “Shut up and let me work” Smith:

She’s the “good kid” and sometimes the “quiet kid.” Jack definitely fucks with her in class sometimes until she pops off and they both get written up.

She’s an honors student and exceeds well in her classes.

She’d rather blend in with the crowd and not many students really notice her. She keeps herself contained in a small group of friends.

If she’s not with her friends, she’s probably in the library.

She’s really into Art and History.

Kind of a conspiracy nut and likes reading into urban legends and stuff.

Infodumps about her interests to Jack and he gets hella annoyed.

Jack sometimes follows her around and she gets hella annoyed but she gets sad when he’s not around.

Mediates between Jack and Fitz.

Jack and Fitzy fight over her. Jean has shown a little interest in her too.

She ate the “giggles” from Jack’s brownies. She got so fucked up she had a panic attack and left the dance really early before all the chaos began in the gym.

Kinda looks like she hasn’t really left 2015...like basic white girl with knit sweaters and cardigans, t-shirts and tanks, leggings, boots or sandals, etc. Sometimes also wears hoodies and jeans.

Headbands and beanies and cottagecore-like bandanas.

Yeah her makeup slaps too.

She works for her father after school at the Tortuga Tavern, formerly named Faithful Bride before it was forced to change to something more “PC.”

Fitzwilliam the “My uncle is the principal” Dalton (the third):

Basic snobby rich kid.

President of every “snobby kid club”; the Chess Club, the Key Club, the Student Council, and Yearbook.

Also an athlete and is in the school’s track team and soccer team.

Is in a clique with his equally snobby friends.

Yeah but he’s like hella proper.

He’s well educated and knows several different languages.

Hella ignorant about certain shit tho.

Big fuckin FLEXER with his expensive name-brand clothing and tech.

Lies about being friends with celebrities and online influencers and shit.

Ate one of the “shits” brownies....Just leaving that to the imagination until I make a one-shot.

Drippin’ Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, Coach, etc... Literally like full fucking tracksuits, knit sweater over button-up combo, fancy coats, name-brand t-shirts, jeans over hundreds to thousands of $$$, shoes costing almost as much as rent.

The pocketwatch from the books is a fancy golden $30,000 Rolex wristwatch.

Jack keeps taking his watch.

Wears his hair up in a manbun like it’s still 2015 and Jack keeps teasing him about it.

Yeah got like a brand new iPhone and and iPad and a really expensive laptop and an iWatch even though I already got a regular watch on my other wrist.

Jean the “I swear to god she’s like my sister” Magliore:

Y’all know it, he’s in the Anime Club.

Jean and Tumen are best friends, and in my story, foster brothers.

Likes video games and always has his Nintendo Switch with him.

Internet memelord and low key has “band kid” energy.

Always be sending Tumen or the “Barnacle Crew” group chat memes.

Being from New Orleans is a personality trait and is very enthused with his Creole roots and loves creole dishes.

He runs a foodie Instagram account with a large following. Self proclaimed foodfluencer.

Sometimes sells candy and chips at school. Gets in trouble for it.

Yeah he ate multiple brownies at the dance....

Jean has a cat Constance, named after his deceased sister, he brings to school hidden in his backpack.

Constance will literally eat just about everything, mimics human noises, and her expressions are very human-like according to Jean. Her traits are so much like his sister, Jean believes she is his sister born as a cat in a new life.

He made Constance her own Instagram account.

Jack HATES Constance. Constance LOVES Jack.

Hoodies, jeans, headphones, beanies.

His hair is the same but a bit shorter.

“Suspiciously quiet kid” Tumen:

The quiet kid sitting in the back of the class and drawing while listening to music.

He is also in the Anime Club with Jean.

Since Jean is into video games, Tumen is a weeb.

Jean is the only person he really hangs out with at school.

Tumen doesn’t have a phone in my fanfic but for the purpose of this headcanon and the group chat, he does have one.

He’s more of a “lurker” in the GC.

Jean’s #1 meme reactor.

He watches anime crack videos.

Tumen is the most “immature” than the others since he’s the youngest.

The only one who didn’t eat the brownies. Got interviewed on the news.

He takes pride in his Mayan heritage.

Has a random interest in geography and wants a career as a cartographer.

Anime t-shirts and hoodies galore.

Always has his hood up in class.

Teachers always telling him to put his hood down.

Tim “the newbie” Hawk:

He eventually transfers to Barnacle High.

I don’t have a full headcanon written for him yet.

Principal Lawrence Norrington:

Principal of Barnacle High.

Fitzwilliam’s uncle.

HATES Jack Sparrow.... Again how tf is Jack not expelled?

Brings his kid James to work sometimes even though the kid should be at school himself.

Jack sitting in the principal’s office in trouble again and James keeps bugging him. “Do you play Fortnite?” “No. Beat it, kid.”

Tia Dalma:

The school nurse.

Jack is buddies with her and he goes to her and pretends to be sick when he wants to ditch class.

Has crab parts in jars in the cabinets. No one questions it.

Joshamee Gibbs:

The janitor.

He’s in the Navy but he’s on off-duty employment.

Jack is buddies with him too.

He writes Jack fake doctors notes or signs permission slips or covers for Jack when he’s ditching, in exchange for booze Jack has at home.

He had to clean up the gym after the brownies incident ☹️

I don’t know how to write Davy Jones into this.

For the sake of this headcanon, it would be funny if Torrents was like a science teacher or something. Or if Madame Minuet was like an economics or math teacher. Or if Silverback is an English teacher. Or if Left-Foot Louis is a PE teacher and he’s all running in circles because he’s got two left feet lol.

Btw all these teachers HATE Jack 😂

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Don’t Forget Me

Art in banner done by me.

College Life / Mermaid / Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) inspired AU

It’s all nothing but a dream. A series of dreams that are all too real. That’s all it is. Your soul - or whatever it was - couldn’t possibly be swapping places with a Merman. One, mermaids aren’t real. Two, that’s not even possible! Is it?

Mermaid!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Human Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Don’t Forget Me tag.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story

Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Interspecies Sex (merman / human), Masturbation, Alcohol, Animal death / hunting (whales, fish, sharks, etc), Cursing, Descriptions of Injuries and Blood

A/N: This is my part for the @bnhabookclub weekly collab event Just Add Water for MerMay! I know there isn’t much going on in this, but it’s just the first chapter to a new multichapter fic. Per the rules of the collab, I used the prompt “That’s just an urban legend”. I’m excited, because I’ve wanted to do a Mer!Bakugou x reader for a LONG time and could never think of anything. But when this theme was announced, I was watching Kimi no Na wa and immediately had this idea. So, full disclosure, the theme of switching bodies in their sleep / forgetting each other is inspired by that movie, but that is all that I take away from it.

Prologue: Stone

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing

Words: 1,855

You were doing it again.

How many times had you caught yourself staring at the delicate necklace in your hands? More than you could probably count on all your fingers and toes, and you were sure that number had nearly doubled just in the last week. You really weren’t sure why you were drawn to it so intensely, nor why it gave you such a deep sense of loss and loneliness.

Where had you gotten it from?

You couldn’t remember. In truth, you couldn’t remember getting it at all. As far as you could recollect, it had been around your neck when you woke up one morning, about two months ago. Since then, you refused to go a day without it, even if it didn’t necessarily match your outfit or any particular occasion. You felt so lost without it around your neck, like a part of you was away, off in some distant land or deep within the sea.

Why did you think that?

Of all things, why would you assume that this missing part of you was in the ocean? Was it because of the necklace? Probably. The silver clam shaped pendant that rested in your palm was most likely the culprit to make you think of the sea. But that particular piece of the jewelry wasn’t what kept you so entranced. Set in the middle was a small, perfectly round stone, and its brilliance is what you couldn’t help but stare into. To anyone else, it would just appear to be a small marble, with brilliant deep indigo, swirling turquoise and hints of radiant purples. There were sparkles of twinkling white, like light reflecting off a water's surface, and if you gazed into it long enough, you could have sworn that the colors were mixing and twisting, as if there truly was water inside the stone.

It was so beautiful. Had someone given it to you? Whoever did must have cared about you so deeply to give you something so special. You had asked all your friends and family if they knew anything about how you got it, but no one knew anything. You received some weird looks and uncomfortable responses when you tried to ask them, but that didn’t bother you much, not when you had been dealing with people finding you strange for almost half a year now, anyway.

Why did they find you weird again? You couldn’t remember.

All you knew was that it had to do with this necklace. You had tried to find out what it was made of to try and get any hints on where it may have come from, but each jewelry store or stone expert you took it to, they all had the same response. They just didn’t know. Many offered to buy it from you at varying prices, their interest peaked and their hopes of being the first person to discover a new stone pushing them forward. But you resisted, as just even letting it out of your hands so they could look at it enough to make you nearly burst into tears. You couldn’t let it go and you wouldn’t, either. Not ever. Not for anything.

Because it was precious. It was the only thing that you had that could help to calm this nearly unending sense of longing.

But what was it you were longing for?

Or who?

Why did that always pop up in your mind? There were so many pieces of scattered thoughts that you just couldn’t put together. A person. The sea. Feeling like a piece of you was missing. You wanted these feelings to end, but you knew that they wouldn’t, not until you found what you were searching for.

With a frustrated sigh, you put the necklace back on around your neck, clasping it in place with skilled fingers. Standing from your bed, you shuffled your way towards your desk, lightly running your fingers down along the slender metal chain. Your mind was still in a hazy grip of sleep, barely registering that the electronic clock mostly hidden by books and other stationary read 5:49 AM, though that didn’t really matter. Your mind was racing with the overbearing thoughts, and as you sat down in your squeaky office chair, you were already near breaking out into tears.

The necklace wasn’t the only clue you had. Scattered among the desk were notebooks and papers, though you had refused to touch them for the last few weeks. At first, you had meticulously looked over every page and every written note, trying to do everything you could to learn about who this person was that you were missing. But now they sat on your desk, abandoned in defeat. There were many things in the notes that didn’t make sense to you now, though according to what you had written, you had understood it all at one point.

What you had written.

That was what was the most odd. There were two very distinct handwritings within the notebooks and scribbled on the scrap pieces of paper or sticky notes. Yours was so proper and easy to read, clean and steady. The other was rough with some of the characters almost completely illegible, requiring you to assume what the person writing must have been trying to say. Large and scratchy, it almost resembled the handwriting of a child or what you assume would be someone new to writing on paper. The phrases. The choice of words. All of it was completely different from yours.

It had been another person. Someone sat in your chair, in your room, and wrote these messages to you. At first, you thought that it just had to be a prank. One of your friends was fucking with you. That was the only realistic solution. But none of them talked this way, and if you were honest, they weren’t exactly clever enough to pull off such a big ordeal over months and months.

The way they talked… It was so strange. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and if you were honest, you thought that they must have been a little crazy. Yet, you weren’t all that rattled in most of your responses, like you knew what they had been saying to be the truth.

The conversations were so… natural. In fact, most of it was like a diary, with the scratchy handwriting cataloging what had happened that day, how they felt about it, and what they had done.

This school shit that you humans do is so stupid and pointless. Who the fuck needs to know about… what is it called? Calculus? You’re never going to use that shit, I’m not bothering with keeping up with it, fuck that. You always catch up on your own anyway. That bitch Midoriya or whatever gave you some fucking flowers today. I thought about stomping on them and telling him to fuck off, but I just took them and left. You need to tell that prick you’re not into him or this shit will never stop. Also, the way you humans handle courtship is fucked. I didn’t do shit today otherwise. Just stayed in the room. I did find your sketchbook though. You’re getting better, but you still can’t remember us for shit.

Pulling your eyes up from the paper, they immediately landed on the mentioned sketchbook, which was tucked up beneath some schoolbooks. Carefully, you pulled it out, setting it down on the pile of papers to thumb through it.

It had been so long since you had even opened this thing. The feeling of the coarse paper beneath your fingertips brought a small smile to your face, as did seeing all your old sketches and doodles. Though, the smile faded as you reached near the middle of the sketchbook, your eyes tearing up immediately at the contents of the page. The page was completely covered in drawings of what looked to be mermaids, or mermen, to be more accurate. They were mostly faceless and unidentifiable, the sketches geared more towards poses and anatomy. The only thing mostly consistent was the tail. It seemed to be the same over all the drawings, with matching fins and scribbled patterns.

“Mermaids… I’ve never cared to draw them before, why did I…?”

After another turn of the page, you were met with similar things, only this time they had heads and hair, jewelry, pieces of clothing, and even weapons. Only one of the sketches resembled the previous drawings, and his particular features called to you. The feeling of recognition and longing grew fiercer with another turn of the page, which was all nothing but sketches of that particular merman’s head with varying expressions and positions. He was particularly attractive, with slanted piercing eyes and a mass of fluffy spiked hair on his head. He had fin-like ears that were mostly drooped, but flared out on the drawings with a more intense expression, where his mouth was open in a yell or intense fanged snarl.

A small gasp left your lips as a drop of liquid suddenly landed onto the paper, pulling you out of your daze. Crying? Why were you crying? Why did your heart feel like it was about to be ripped from your chest? It wasn’t possible for this to be the man that you had been longing for. You had drawn him as a mermaid! They weren’t real, and there was no way that was possible. He couldn’t even get into your room, let alone sit in your chair and write you letters.

“I’m so ridiculous…” You whispered quietly to yourself, wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. Had you been blushing? You didn’t even notice. “Mermaids… That’s just an urban legend. A myth. I must have just been in a phase… Maybe I saw a movie or an anime with them, and I got super invested? But then… they’re so…”

Page after page, more sketches followed, some making you giggle while others made your chest ache so badly you thought you would pass out. But then, there was something scribbled onto a page that made your entire body grow cold, stomach twisting into such a tight knot you were sure that you’d vomit.

Save me.

“Save… Save you?” You choked out into the silent room with a trembling voice, more tears cascading down your cheeks as you reached up to grip the pendant around your neck tightly. It was in the familiar scratchy handwriting, though it was more frantic and messy than you had ever seen. Hiccupping, you brought the pendant up to your lips, pressing the stone against them as you struggled to calm yourself.

Save you from what? What the hell happened? Did I save you? Why the hell can’t I remember!

It was then that you felt an odd pulsing against your lips, and as you pulled away in shock, your teary gaze was locked onto the pendant in your hands, which was pulsing slowly with a pale green glow. And with it came a thought, like a soft voice whispering in your ear that you couldn’t ignore.

He’s calling to me…

#bnhabookclub #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #personal #collab #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #mermay #Merman!Bakugou #mermaid au #mer!bakugou

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theliterarywolf · 4 years

Note

How was the sequel to Tales from The Hood, a shitshow?

The original Tales from the Hood, while having some campy horror elements, still managed to present its stories and tone competently while still incorporating themes of struggles of black Americans in urban areas.

Examples:

A black politician who’s been trying to fight against police corruption gets beaten to death and injected with drugs post-mortem by said corrupt cops to slander his name. The politician returns from the dead to exact vengeance. Obviously this short tackles police brutality and corruption.

A little boy and his mother who are constantly beaten and abused by what he draws and identifies as a ‘monster’ who, it turns out, is the mother’s new boyfriend. The theme here is Domestic Violence and how often people try to brush it under the rug as just a way of life in the community.

A former klansman-turned senator buys a building called ‘The Dollhouse’ that is of high historical significance to the local black community, despite their wishes and complaints, to serve as the headquarters for his racist campaign to become governor. The house in of itself was where a confederate-supporter, after the loss of the Civil War, decided to murder all of his slaves rather than see them freed. Their restless souls haunted the place until a ‘voodoo woman’ managed to calm their souls and place them into dolls. You can pretty much guess where this is going and the themes.

The final entry centers around a gang-member who, after getting hunted and shot down by rival gang-members, is taken into police custody and is given one last chance for freedom by a doctor’s new, radical behavioral therapy program. Said therapy takes a note right out of A Clockwork Orange and bombards our main character with alternating images of brutal gang-violence and KKK lynchings. After which, he is berated with apparitions of all the people he’s shot and killed; including a little girl who was a victim during one of his drive-by shootings. Of course, this kind of therapy will only be successful if the subject shows some remorse...

And all of this is wrapped in a framing device of three gang-members trying to find some drugs at a funeral-home, even harassing the funeral-director, which turns out to be a portal into hell.

... *deep breath*

I have to do a ‘Read More’ because this post got long. But I implore you guys to read on to see the abyss of insanity and bad directions that were taken in regards to the sequel of this movie. Please.

The sequel decided to throw ALL NUANCE AND TACT out of the window and give us such wonderful stories as:

A white girl and a black girl are on a road-trip and decide to go to the... ugh... Museum of Negrosity where the owner chastises them on thinking that the uncomfortable racist memorabilia he owns (collections of minstrel show cartoons, golliwog and pickaninny dolls) are things of the past instead of acknowledging them as parts of America’s racist past. And, for some reason, the white girl is obsessed with buying one of the golliwog dolls because she had one when she was little. Anyway, they sneak back in later with the white girl’s brother who happens to be the black girl’s boyfriend, so they can steal one of the dolls. Through hijinks, the doll comes to life and grows to the size of a human being. The brother/boyfriend gets whipped to death, the black girl gets cut in half by a minstrel-colored guillotine, and the white girl... Fucks the giant golliwog doll, gets pregnant, and a few days later, has her stomach torn open as a bunch of baby versions of the doll go flying out everywhere.

Some gang-members track down a former pimp who’s changed his ways to try and shake him down for some owed money. He doesn’t comply, so they kill him but, golly-gee! How are they going to get the money now~? Oh, I know! Hold a scam medium hostage so he can perform a seance to talk to the pimp to find out about the money. But, oh no~ It looks like the medium’s powers decide to actually work this time~ Ooh~

Two douchebags hookup with two hot chicks and, after the world’s worst game of Cards Against Humanity, they decide to roofie the girls so they can record themselves raping them so they can post it to ‘le dark web’. ... Lo’ and behold, the girls turn out to be vampires who were playing 4D chess to rope the two douchebags in so they can use them for their own recording-something-brutal-to-post-online scheme.

And... The LAST one. Oh my God, the LAST ONE. *deep breath* Okay.

So we follow a black republican councilman who is married to a white woman and they’re expecting a baby after a long line of miscarriages. But the wife is having weird bouts of bad dreams and insomnia. What are the bad dreams about?

... I need you guys to understand. That I am not shitposting when I type the following words. *deep breath* Okay.

The wife is being haunted by the ghost of Emmett Till telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have her baby. You know? Emmett Till? The victim of one of the most brutal, horrific murders in America due to one of the most disgusting, vile acts of racism? THAT EMMETT TILL?!

So..! The black councilman is working for a white politician who... I’m just going to put a direct quote from the movie so you can get where they were coming from.

“That man wants to close down ten more voting locations, all of them in black districts!”

Anyway, after a house-call from a doctor who brushes off the dreams as hormones, the councilman hosts a party for the politician who’s running slogan is ‘Let’s take Mississippi back!’ Gee-golly-willickers! Can’t imagine where they were coming from with that one!!

So the party goes on, the politician even congratulating our councilman on his ‘white wife’, but said wife rushes downstairs after having another dream; ranting about ‘that boy from the field has decided to LIVE! And if he lives, our baby’s going to die!’ And she runs outside with a machete to try and kill the ghost of Emmett Till (who, again, very real person and victim of racist brutality).

So the councilman’s mother and the local voodoo expert drive up and the voodoo expert tells the councilman that Emmett Till is trying to talk to him about the nature of sacrifice. The next day, the wife is talking about how her stomach is getting smaller, but the councilman doesn’t want to hear any of it and calls the doctor again. And, guys..?! If shit hadn’t jumped the rails before?! The train just starts doing cartwheels from here.

The doctor is suspiciously short-tempered with the politician this time around and he does examine the wife to confirm that her stomach is indeed shrinking. However, when he’s told that the councilman is the father, he storms out and snaps “I don’t work for coloreds!”

Then the wife runs out of bed and tells the doctor that the councilman isn’t her husband and that he kidnapped and raped her. So both the wife and the doctor drive off and the councilman realizes that the world has somehow gone back to the era of Jim Crow.

... Oooh my gosh, typing this is making me want to commit toaster-bath but it gets so much worse..!

So, after the voodoo expert comes to chastise the councilman about not ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, he is able to see the ghost of Emmett Till (who was a real person, why is this happening..?!) who is there to tell him that he’s decided that he wants to live. Which means that the world will never see the brutal images of his body at his funeral and that will cause a Butterfly Effect in history that will make it so that the Civil Rights Movement never happened.

You may be questioning the logistics of this, but don’t worry! The ghosts of the girls killed in the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing in Birmingham come to explain and further berate the councilman about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to him’ and working for a racist politician.

But wait! There’s more! *whines* I keep crying out to God but he won’t answer...

They’re soon joined by the ghosts of the three Freedom Riders who were killed during the Mississippi Burning Murders, the ghost of Civil Rights Activist Medgar Evers, and DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.

Not to mention several other unnamed figures who walk up while everyone else starts chanting about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, who look like Rosa Parks and Frederick Douglass, just to name a few.

... I need a drink. I need a cold, stiff drink. ... Almost done.

So, in comes the Klan. You know, the white-robed bastards; I hear they have an outreach center a few cities away from me. Sure, fine, whatever. The wife is leading them along with the white politician who hits the councilman’s mother in the face with a baton and Emmett Till stops time just as reinforcements show up to tell the councilman that, in order for everything to go back to normal, he has to join the ranks of those who sacrificed.

“If what you want is worth us dying for, how come its not worth you dying for?!”

And, at first, the councilman disagrees; even being dragged away by Klansmen. However! It’s his wife angrily spitting in his face that makes him realize that this world isn’t the world he wants to live in. So he runs over to Emmett Till to tell him that he will join him... And then he’s beaten to death, becoming a sacrifice to get the world back to normal. And, once it is, his spirit joins Emmett Till’s and walks off into the great beyond.

So! Not only did this schlocky, B-movie horror movie sequel decide to use a REAL LIFE VICTIM of racism-driven brutality as a story-device, but it also wants to put forth the message that the people who lost their lives during the Civil Rights Movement? Yeah, they HAD to die! Otherwise the Civil Rights Movement would never have happened~!

You see why I hate the sequel to Tales from the Hood so much? Not even mentioning the terrible framing segments of a racial-profiling robot being told these stories so it knows what ‘criminals’ to go after, but this movie is just a temple of ‘WHY?! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?!?!’

#Anonymous #replies

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anestheticrage · 4 years

Text

Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately.

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho.

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi- and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏 defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself.

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊��; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got:

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H)

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

- everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

- the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

- make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊).

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..."

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs

Yours Truly,

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘

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kinsey3furry300 · 3 years

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Three awesome post-GoT series I would commission if I owned any of the Big three Streaming platforms.

Yo! Netflix, Amazon Prime Video and Disney+, you have a problem: there are nerds like me who want to give you even more of our time and money, but you’re not making the stuff you should be. Following the hugely disappointing end of “Game of Thrones” there are a huge number of sci-f and fantasy nerds who are currently not getting our fix of epic adventure, and rather than commission a whole bunch of cool series that are just begging to be made to cash in on this, you’re all just sort of doing your own things. And that’s Cool, I’m loving the Netflix Witcher series and Disney’s Loki, and looking forward to the Amazon Middle Earth series with a mix of hope and trepidation (please be good), there are, however, a whole mass of cool book series that are just begging for release in an episodic fashion, and what’s more, I can think of which series plays to which streaming platforms strengths. And unlike Game of Thrones, there are series where running out of source material to adapt shouldn’t be a problem.

So, three sci-fi or fantasy series that play to the strengths of the big three Streaming services, as suggested by me, a big ol’ nerd. One: Amazon Prime. Strengths: successfully adapting darker comic-book or Urban fantasy works Like Preacher, the Boys, Good Omens and American Gods and making a profit. Weakness: has never successfully pulled of a big Grimdark fantasy series, despite having all the talent to do so because they’re working on the Middle earth series, which doesn’t seem a good fit for their brand image as the place you come for for comically dark works, and all their adaptations are too much of a slow burn, which necessitates padding the source material (look at how little happens in any episode of Preacher or the Boy vs the insanely fast pace of the comics). Solution: Malazan, book of the fallen. A deep, insanely dark, insanely Epic story that would actually lend itself to a slow burn and the grim-dark over the top violence of other Amazon shows, and fill the “Tit’s and monsters” gap left by GoT in many of our hearts. And unlike Tolkien, I have faith that the studio that cast Sweary Karl Urban as Billy Butcher could actually pull this off with the correct tone and feel. This would have the Witcher fans from Netflix defecting in droves, and could also pull in some new viewers who might enjoy the anthropology and political intrigue of this complex, multifaceted world.

Two: Disney+. Strengths: near infinite money and ambition, the production team behind The Mandalorian and the MCU, great Hollywood clout to draw in big name stars, but willing to cast talented unknowns, the best mix of live action and CG in the business. Weaknesses: It’s Disney, so they can never go full grim-dark: they can imply or infer dark acts, but need to keep what’s shown on screen PG13 to fit their brand, which rules out a lot of modern fantasy. And they have no true fantasy serries in their stable.

Solution: Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn, and other Cosmere works. A rare example of an excellent current fantasy and sci-fi writer who isn’t grimdark as heck, and manages to convey dark and adult themes by implication and hints rather than outright showing them, this is pretty much the only big fantasy series out there that is aimed at and enjoyed by adults but remains consistently PG13. It’s also so epic and super-hero-ish in this various magic systems, that I can’t see anyone other than the team behind the MCU pulling off a live-action version of this that doesn’t suck. In addition to this, the logical starting point for this, Mistborn, is by far the safest and most marketable, coming the closest of any of his works to a standard young-adult plot with Vin as an easily sell-able character to studio brass, being to all intents and purposes Katniss Everdeen with super-powers, which could get a big studio invested and convinced this is a good idea before we get to all the “lets kill and replace god” stuff. If Mistborn was successful, other Cosmere works could follow, and I could see something like the Stormlight Archives working really well with the MCU effects team behind it, so long as they don’t white-wash it: No one on Roshar is white other than in Shinovar, and half of the cultures are based on either Polynesian or far eastern traditions, so cast Hawaiian, Māori, native American and east-Asian actors, and it could be both a great series, and also the most diverse Disney has ever done. You want a new, easily marketable but epic scale franchise, Disney? It’s right here.

Also for the love of god, do Wax and Wayne. I just need this, okay?

Three: Netflix. Strengths: good at tapping into the prevailing nostalgia of Millennials and producing works that speak to them on a relatively small budget (see Stanger Things) and good at grabbing the rights to adapt good but slightly obscure works cheaply. Good working relationship with a ton of Japanese Anime rightsholders. Weaknesses: By far the smallest budget of any of the big three. Tends to produce awful live-action adaptations of beloved works (to the point that the Witcher was a pleasant surprise), but has good relationships with lots of animation studios.

Solution: Animorphs, but do what they always should have done and animate it. It boggles my mind that anyone would every try to pull this off in live action, as the transformations, which are the heart of the series, would be so hard to pull off well (look at the 90’s series). And yet, I’m aware they’re making a film, but dear god, why, when K A Applegate said form the get go that this series of books were written specifically as if they were a 90’s Saturday morning cartoon. This was always meant to be adapted as a series, not a long form film. So, don’t try to modernise it, or relate to “The kids” don’t whitewash the cast, don’t edit out the gore and body-horror, but lean into the 90’s and early 2000’s angst of it, and go balls to the walls insane with the concept. What music do you have playing for this scene? Is it Every day is exactly the same by Nine Inch Nails, and if not, why not? Do the transformation sequence genuinely scare you? No? Then you’re doing it wrong. Is that a happy ending? Get that the hell out of there. Go for the original time period and concept, and go hard, and if you do it now, you’ll just hit that sweet spot as the rolling 30 year nostalgia cycle moves out of the 80’s and into the 90’s. And as an apology to all the bad live-action Anime you produced, Netflix, get a Japanese studio to animate this: the Animorphs books were popular in Japan, with wonderful hand drawn illustrations throughout. Get Studio Orange on this: Beastars proved they can do flowing, fast-moving combat well, and make animal and other non-human characters look good, and what’s more they’d probably be up for it: Animorphs is basically a western Shōnen, so the market for an Anime of it would exist in Japan.

So there we go, the three series I would commission if I ruled the world of streaming sites. As ever, tell me why I’m wrong below, and have a great day!

#animorphs #brandon sanderson #mistborn #malazan #netflix #studio orange #disney plus #disney #MCU #cosmere #k a applegate #steven erikson #sci fi #fantisy #streaming sites #amazon plus

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