#Tri Vuong

[user-without-a-cool-acronym]

so we got a look at an early cover for the third issue for shatterspin, which is kind of funny, considering thefirst one hasn‘t even released yet, but uh things are not looking good for garmadon. His students are nowhere to be seen, he is holding a glowing wolf mask and there are a bunch of spirits. This family just can not catch a break, huh

[weirdartyankovich]

Aaaaaaaaah dammit The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn is doing the thing where the creator still remembers it (they still post on their tomago blog every now and again) but it says it ended on webtoon and it was last updated 4 years ago but it never really concluded but it a collection of a bunch of separate stories so it might not have anyway so it's impossible to tell if it will return but bssjbdjdjddnsjjssbs

Thank you so much Tri Vuong for making what you already have but please come baaaaaaaack.

[smashpages]

Skybound and Tri Vuong are back with another round of LEGO Ninjago comics this May. LEGO Ninjago: Shatterspin, written and drawn by Vuong, will once again feature the young hero Garmadon, as he heads off on a quest to save Ninjago.

Read more

[graphicpolicy]

Go, Ninja-go! Skybound announces LEGO Ninjago: Shatterspin!

Go, Ninja-go! Skybound announces LEGO Ninjago: Shatterspin! #comics #comicbooks #lego #ninjago

Skybound, Image Comics, and AMEET have announced LEGO Ninjago: Shatterspin #1, the all-new series from critically acclaimed writer/artist Tri Vuong. The newest installment of the worldwide phenomenon arrives in comic book stores May 22, 2024.  New and longtime fans of the LEGO Ninjago saga can expect to uncover the secret history of Garmadon with familiar faces and shocking first appearances.…

[smillingcartoonist]

Everyday Hero Machine Boy

[kingsbridgelibraryteens]

Middle School Monday: Everyday Hero Machine Boy by Irma Kniivila & Tri Vuong 

When Machine Boy crash lands into the domed city of Mega 416, he has protocols that he must follow, like destroying anything that he perceives as a threat. This leads to an epic fight with Goh, an old man nicknamed the “Karate Grandpa.” By the end of the fight, Machine Boy’s heart has been activated and his personality has completely changed, but Goh is already dying from a heart attack. Later, Machine Boy finds Goh’s wife Mrs. Kobushi, and they gradually learn to trust each other.

Machine Boy commits himself to helping others, but he still doesn’t understand enough about himself or his origins to know whether or not he could still be dangerous. If Machine Boy keeps doing good deeds, will it be enough to make up for the destruction he caused to the people of Mega 416 when he first arrived? Or is it too late to earn back their trust?

Give this graphic novel to older kids and younger teens who love science fiction, action, and stories that manage to be funny and heartfelt at the same time.

[otakunoculture]

LEGO's Garmadon is Breaking Bad With His Own Solo Adventure!

#LEGO's Garmadon is Breaking Bad With His Own Solo Adventure! Review of issue #1 and 2 #comicbook by @tri_vuong and published by @imagecomics @skybound @legogroup

Ninjago’s greatest villain, Garmadon, now has a comic book! This self-titled work is a joint collaboration between Image Comics, Skybound and The Lego Company and the first two issues have everything to satisfy fans of the cartoon. There are linguring questions that needs answering. The only thing really missing is a mini-fig to go with the release, and I suspect that’s being saved for the…

[geryone]

To My Dog Tofu During the Blizzard of December 18th 2020, Ocean Vuong

[jocanneverdecide]

when ocean vuong said "i miss you more than i remember you" he, and i cant stress this enough, really really didn't have to.

[quietghost]

[anarchang3l]

The Bull

He stood alone in the backyard, so dark

the night purpled around him.

I had no choice. I opened the door

& stepped out. Wind

in the branches. He watched me with kerosene

-blue eyes. What do you want? I asked, forgetting I had

no language. He kept breathing,

to stay alive. I was a boy—

which meant I was a murderer of my childhood. & like all murderers, my god

was stillness. My god, he was still

there. Like something prayed for

by a man with no mouth. The green-blue lamp

swirled in its socket. I didn’t

want him. I didn’t want him to

be beautiful—but needing beauty

to be more than hurt gentle

enough to want, I

reached for him. I reached—not the bull—

but the depths. Not an answer but

an entrance the shape of

an animal. Like me

-Ocean Vuong

[jessaerys]

the word father rotted in my mouth: i. tom stoppard, rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead. ii. nurnehpetsnur iii. anne carson, plainwater: essays and poetry iv. see notes. v. see notes. vi. genesis 4:9 vii. anaïs nin, winter of artifice viii. see notes. ix. slider.xxxxxxxx x. josh alex baker, death wish. xi. see notes. xii. eric larocca, things have gotten worse since we last spoke xiii. death note, c-kira one-shot. xiv. leah horlick, for your own good, xv. death note manga, L's death, mello's death. xvi. ocean vuong, someday i'll love, xvii. woyaocharlie xviii. death note short stories, a-kira one-shot. xix. anna belle kaufman, cold solace.

notes under the cut.

*iv. artist notoriously hard to track, there's several images on pinterest that are clearly the same style, tried with all of them and they all seem to come from a long deleted 2008 photobucket folder.

v. & viii. the oldest source seems to be long-deleted posts from this blog, which were re-posts.

xi. this is the only source i can find but i don't think it leads to the artist ): please hmu if you have any leads about all of these.

part of the mine and the bestie’s delusional headcanon that near and mello (& matt) did have somewhat of a mentor/mentee relationship with L (fuck them other kids….) whom although genuinely fond of them was a willing participant in the amoral watari industrial complex (did he care to be succeeded? did he find it amusing or an interesting long term project? were the tests and mindfuckery and hot/cold unpredictable behavior and purposeful sowing of a rivalry between them the only model of family and mentorship he knew and was capable of? did he ever really love them? will they ever know? etc etc etc.)

i’m handwaving away the “we only talked to L once” story as skillfully edited by near because 1. he loves to lie and 2. his complicated relationship with L and subsequent grief AND resentment is still wrapped in seventeen thousand layers of emotional repression and who wants to get into that. 3. also makes mello’s comments in LABB about not caring if near is hurt that he knows more about L than near does way funnier. sibling behavior

anyway the both of them have a brotherfatherhero complex the size of TEXAS but thankfully they can sublimate that in the bedroom through creative kinky means. i know the usual "don't ship them!" rethoric is that they're foster brothers but unfortunately that just makes them a billion times more compelling. to me

[puckarchives]

moments in june: l. hughes 

blurb: moments in june, falling in love and getting put back together by luke.  / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader / tw: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks; depression.

“It’s June after all & you’re young until September.” (Ocean Vuong, Because It’s Summer)

You sat up on the boat seat as Luke laid in your lap, his head held in the juncture of your thigh and his nose sunburnt. He was sweaty and smelled like lake water, but you let him be; these were the moments you had waited the entire year for— the days that you had spent cooped up trying to get perfect grades and do everything you could, all to have the summer to yourselves. To hold the boy you loved in your arms as he snoozed on you, while you ran your fingers through his short, choppy curls, and outlined the bridge of his nose, ghosting the tips of your fingers over his cheekbones, his beauty marks, and then the tip of his ears.  

You were in love with him, that much you knew. The boy who you had spent the day jumping in the water with, the one who had dedicated most of his afternoon to showing you how to wakeboard, and who ensured you were taken care of. Who applied your sunscreen religiously but forgot to do his own, who held your hand as you got on and off the boat, and who made sure you were living in the moment, taking your head out of the past and your anxieties, and held you— even if you were the one doing the holding right now. 

Looking down at Luke, his eyes closed and the beginnings of sun freckles showing up next to the smattering of beauty marks on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, you admired him— your beautiful boy who had such a big heart; who had spent his season commuting from New Jersey to Michigan, but who still made time for you; who showed you how much you meant to him though phone calls in between practices and all-nighters, who made sure you ate in between your packed school and work schedules, and who, (on more than one occasion,) had simply showed up at your door for the weekend, or if he had a few days off. Simply to make sure you were doing okay, and to assure you that you were a priority for him.

As if he could tell that the cogs in your brain were whirring at high speed, his eyes opened, and he gazed up at you. “Sweetheart?” he said quietly, not trying to simply shake you out of it, but bring you back to him. 

“Hmm?” you said back, now looking at him. You continued the track of your fingers, now pushing the frizz of his curls back from his forehead as you smiled down at him. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, and as you looked down at him again, you realized that it was. That for the months of June until September, when the days were hot and the nights cool, you would be okay; you had your boy until September, but it would be okay. You and Luke would be okay. 

“Always, baby.” 

“It was the month of June when her eyes opened, softly as the flower opens its petals, gently as the dawning of the day” (Amrita Pritam, Krishna Gorowara, The Annunciation)

It was nearing 4AM when it began— when you were rushed out of your shared bed with Luke as wave after wave of anxiety and dread washed over you, a feeling that you were all too familiar with, but that still cut you deep every time. This pit of dread, however, was almost self-punishing for you, a montage of every single thing you had pushed down over the past semester you spent studying and working, trying to maintain your perfect grades, and seemingly trying to be everything that everyone around you needed. You had pushed down these thoughts and anxieties, pushing them away to be dealt with later, and it felt as if that time had come— the feeling of drowning in your own head, in your own debilitating need for perfection, and your own perception of how you didn’t seem to be able to match up to it either way. 

You tried to be as quiet as you could as you untangle yourself from Luke’s arm, which was wrapped around your waist, and made your way down the stairs and outside onto the porch, where you could feel the weight of the June air; a reprieve from the seemingly claustrophobic thoughts running through your head. You tried to breathe as you sat down on the deck stairs, hugging your knees to your chest as you tried trampling the thoughts down— the throwaway comments you would overhear when people thought you couldn’t hear them of being too much or too needy, of the imprints of fear that failure had left tattooed in your brain, and of the all-consuming thoughts that ate up your insides until you were a husk of the person you once were. 

You tried not to get like this often; you tried to let yourself relax and bring you out of this anxiety-induced stupor before you could get to the point in which you were now— dry heaving, coughing, and overall in the midst of a full blown panic attack, where an endless play-by-play of your worst moments were on repeat in your head, encapsulating you in your worst nightmares. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe; your chest was caving in, and as you continued to dry heave into the grass below you, now on your hands and knees, you felt yourself be picked up by your waist, arms grabbing you by your midsection and pulling you up to a standing position— forcing you to take a breath as the arms moved from your waist to instead cover your ears, blocking out your own breathing, and bringing your face to meet a worn-out and fresh-out-of-bed Luke, his curls entirely sleep tussled, and his eyes wide, trying to get you to meet his gaze and he search your face for some root of the problem— to try and mend whatever pain you were experiencing. 

When he couldn’t find the source, however, he pushed his hand against your forehead, which was now warm and felt like a thousand degrees with the toll your anxiety had taken on you, and he released you almost immediately, instead opting to pull your arms away from your face, seeing you in all of your tear-streaked glory, and pulling of your sweatshirt— well, his sweatshirt, the Michigian logo printed on your chest, the garment falling all the way to your upper thigh —off of your frame. You could feel the rush of cool air surrounding you, pulling you out of your state bit by bit before you were able to make out more of your surroundings— the arms that now held your upper forearms, crading you against a soft and solid chest, the smell of Luke’s cologne that had bled in to his sheets, the feel of the grass underneath your feet and the wood paneling of the front porch digging into your heels, and the sound of Luke mumbling away, trying to make sure you were okay— that you weren’t hurt, and that you were coming back to him, and out of the headspace you had been thrusted into by your own mind. 

“Baby, come back to me, hmm pretty girl?” he whispered, now cradling your head against his chest. He was pushing your hair behind your ears in a repeated motion, trying to offer you some of the physical content he knew you needed when you got like this— a reminder that he was real, that he was physically with you. 

“Come on, honey, I’m right here Y/N. Breathe honey— you’re alright baby, nothing’s going to happen to you,” he kept on, still standing and holding you. When he felt the sobs recede and your breathing match his, he pushed himself a bit away, once again holding you by your upper arms and looking down at you. 

“Look at me baby, please,” he whispered, a siren call to you in your current state. You felt the waves of anxiety recede as you were brought back into yourself— as the smell of Luke surrounded you, as his touch brought you back into reality, and as his voice soothed you the way a calming balm would have; he was here, he was present, and he wasn’t going anywhere— a mantra you repeat to yourself as you gathered up the open your eyes, and finally meet his. 

The minute your eyes met his, the ball of anxiety and dread that had been so pent up seemingly unraveled inside of you, leaving in its wake the after-effects of such emotions— the soul crushing exhaustion, the tiredness that caused your eyes and face feel like they weight a million pounds, and the need for physical contact from the boy in front of you.

Your eyes were open, which was what mattered. You were breathing, which was what mattered. And, despite the fears and lies that your brain had been trying to feed you, it was still June— it was still June, and you were still with Luke, and you were okay. You were okay, you were safe, and it was still June.

[smashpages]

Out this week: Everyday Hero Machine Boy (Image, $12.99):

Skybound’s Comet line of young-adult graphic novel continues with this new entry by Irma Kniivila and Tri Vuong. It’s about a robot who fell from the sky who only wants to be a superhero. 

See what else is arriving at your local comic shop this week!

[graphicpolicy]

Skybound reveals an early look at LEGO: Ninjago: Garmadon #5

Skybound reveals an early look at LEGO: Ninjago: Garmadon #5 #comics #comicbooks #lego #ninjago

[smillingcartoonist]

Everyday Hero Machine Boy