#attention span-colors-the pose-just everything

[prettygirl-gabi]

Pretty Annoying

Pairing: Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: you and Azzi go live to review a PR package….

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @liloandstitchstan , @kaliblazin

I should’ve known going live with Azzi while trying on a PR package full of outfits was a dangerous idea. Not because she was chaotic—she was honestly the calm one between us. But because she had a one-track mind when it came to me, and it was always stuck in the gutter.

Still, I had promised the brand I’d do a little live try-on and review, and I figured it’d be cute to have Azzi on with me. Give her some fashion commentary duties. She agreed too quickly.

Our shared apartment had great lighting in the living room, so I propped up my phone on the tripod, arranged the box of clothes beside me, and set a few pieces aside I already knew I wanted to model. Azzi sat cross-legged on the couch in a cropped UConn hoodie and shorts, hair in braids, looking effortlessly fine. She had her iPad ready for chat-monitoring, but I could already tell from her smirk that her attention span would be short-lived.

“Alright,” I said into the camera as people poured into the live, “we’re doing a little PR unboxing slash try-on haul. I roped Azzi into being my personal commentator.”

Azzi raised two fingers in a lazy peace sign. “Hi guys. I’ll be rating her outfits. Totally professionally.”

“She’s lying,” I muttered, pulling out the first piece. It was a silky, champagne-colored mini dress with spaghetti straps. I held it up for the camera. “This looks fire already.”

I ducked into the hallway to change and came back out, adjusting the hem slightly. “Okay, what are we thinking?”

Azzi looked up and went quiet for a beat too long.

I turned to the side, then looked back at her. “Hello? Judge Judy?”

Her eyes flicked up to my face, but she was clearly trying not to laugh. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“The dress, Azzi.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s…fine.” Her voice cracked mid-word.

“You suck at this,” I snorted, spinning once for the camera, showing how the back dipped low. “She’s drooling, y’all.”

“She is,” someone typed in the chat, and I could see the username: azzisgfclub.

Azzi rolled her eyes and tried to look serious, tapping on the iPad. “Y’all need to behave.”

I went back to change and heard Azzi say into the mic, “She knows what she’s doing,” like I wasn’t in the next room grinning.

The next fit was a two-piece set—a fitted ribbed crop top and matching midi skirt in dusty blue. I walked back out, adjusting the top a little, then posed with one hand on my hip. “Better?”

Azzi looked me up and down and licked her lips before she caught herself. “Mhm.”

“That’s all I get? Mhm?” I asked, smirking at the camera.

“She’s not even looking at the clothes,” someone else commented. “Azzi is analyzing the body.”

Azzi scoffed but said nothing. I watched her trying to keep a straight face and failing.

I walked past her toward the phone to read more comments—and that’s when it happened.

Unintentionally, as I turned to adjust the camera angle, I bent slightly to fix the tripod leg and ended up sticking my butt right in Azzi’s face.

I didn’t even realize what I’d done until I heard the loud smack that echoed on the mic.

“AZZI. JAZLYN. FUDD!” I turned, eyes wide, half laughing, half scandalized.

She just shrugged, eyes twinkling. “It was right there.”

The comments exploded.

“SHE JUST SMACKED HER ASS???!!!”

“Azzi said idc if we’re live 😭😭”

“Y/n: models Azzi: loses religion”

“Nah she’s focused on everything BUT the outfits”

“Azzi is TOUCH STARVEDEEE”

“Y/n gon’ need a new PR package AND new cheeks 💀💀💀”

I covered my face, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “Y’all are doing TOO much.”

Azzi, smug as ever, leaned into the mic. “They’re not wrong.”

I pointed a warning finger at her. “You’re supposed to be professional.”

“I was trying,” she said, tossing a pillow onto her lap like she needed a distraction. “But then your whole ass came flying into my face, and I made a reflex decision.”

I gave the camera a fake-annoyed look and said, “This is what I deal with. Every day.”

More laughs in the comments. I retreated to change into the last outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit with a deep V and fitted waist. When I stepped back out, I saw Azzi’s eyes immediately drop to my waist.

I was mid-spin when I caught her hand reaching out to tug on the tie at the back of the jumpsuit. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing it. Totally innocent.”

The chat wasn’t buying it either.

“Azzi’s like lemme just—adjust 😏”

“She is FOCUSED. Not on the jumpsuit tho.”

“Azzi you’re embarrassing yourself. (Keep going.)”

I laughed and turned toward her. “You know, you could at least try to look at the fabric, not my ass.”

Azzi tilted her head and said, deadpan, “It’s a really nice ass, though.”

I gasped in mock offense. “That’s not the point of the haul!”

“You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“You agreed to be my judge!”

“I thought I was judging you, not the clothes.”

I stared at her, grinning, as I read more of the comments aloud. “Azzi is drooling. Azzi’s girl looks too good. Azzi is focused on everything but the fashion. Damn, I feel so supported.”

Azzi side-eyed me. “You’re pretty annoying.”

I blinked, playing it up. “Oh my God… you think I’m pretty?”

She groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. “And that’s the annoying part.”

The chat exploded again.

“AZZI STOPPP THAT WAS SO CUTE”

“PRETTY ANNOYING 😭😭😭”

“Just propose already omg”

“That was the most sapphic hate-to-love moment ever”

I dramatically clutched my chest. “You know what? I’m gonna start doing these hauls solo. Next time, I’ll call Paige.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “She wouldn’t survive.”

I laughed and walked back into frame, grabbing the next piece. “Okay, we’ve got a few accessories left. Can you focus now?”

Azzi looked me up and down again, then shrugged. “I’ll try. No promises.”

Halfway through showing off a bag, she reached up and brushed her hand down my arm like it was nothing.

I looked down. “Ma’am?”

“Just admiring the…uh…texture. Of your skin.”

“The texture?” I deadpanned.

Azzi just grinned, knowing she was caught.

I wrapped up the haul with a final wave to the camera. “Thank y’all for tuning in. This PR haul has turned into thirst hour for Azzi, but we love that for her.”

“Love is a strong word,” Azzi muttered.

I reached down and kissed her forehead. “She loves it here.”

The comments cheered and flooded the screen with hearts and “SHIPPP” and “AZZI IS WHIPPEDDDD.”

Before I ended the live, Azzi leaned into the camera, gave it a mischievous look, and said, “Thanks for watching. She’s mine, by the way.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Possessive much?”

“Pretty annoying, remember?”

And she winked.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[hitwiththefandomz]

Found a meme randomly and had to draw Mikey in it. It was just too perfect not too

Original under the cut

I found this image randomly on Pinterest so I unfortunately don’t know the original creator :(

[wasyago]

hi! this is the bunch-a-questions anon. this wont be an ask ask. thank you for answering! it really gives me so much insight about tools and processes, i really enjoy seeing/reading how different artists have different ways in approaching creation of art. it’s all so interesting to me

and oooh i know what you mean about looking at a lot of different artists! it’s inspiration!! i find those things to be amazing too, it’s so cool. it’s like “this spot is inspired by an artist” “this artist draws this like this, so i wanted to try” “i think the way an artist drew this was neat and i wanted to try an implement it” it reminds me of that one post how we, as people, are a mosiac of other people and i believe it to be the same for how artists are too with their art

i feel inspired by the way you draw….. everything!!! it gets me pumped to try and replicate the way you do some things. like the shapes you create, the colors you choose, the way your lineart seems to be so flowy, how dynamic everything feels and how different each drawing you create is from one another (i saw you reblog that meme of like “why shouldnt i draw characters from the waist up and that is SO me, but it’s shoulders up” because drawing full bodies makes mh drawings feel so stiff, i need to practice more!!), the poses of the characters. just.. every aspect of your art is so, so, so nice!!

the way you draw, in all your styles, it’s definitely one of the ones that is such a good scratch to my brain. it gets me all giddy and happy! i’m not sure if i’ll get into jwri, mostly because my attention span will not let me be able sit and focus on listening before i get distracted and miss context on parts, BUT i still go to your blog almost every day just so i can see your art, no matter what it is, no matter who the characters are because it’s always so so good and i love taking it in. (will eat your art if i could, i am so serious)

this was a long one but yeah! i just wanted to let you know how awesome i see your art is! and how i also think youre a cool person, you seem like such a good peep to hang out it! might be weird to say but if you were a blorbo, you would be one of the most blorbiest blorbos to blorbo ever

hope youre having a good day!!

OH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS THIS IS SOOOOO

your explanation of taking inspiration from other artists was so poetic and beautiful! truly inspiring in itself

its okay if you can't get into jrwi, i get it! i didn't think i would get into it as well and after binging all the episodes i honestly forgot why i even started listening in the first place. remembered recently tho! it was because i was going a little crazy while making the picrew and needed some actual talking in the background instead of just music. so, if you ever decide to give it a try, or listen to something else equally as lengthy, try to busy your hands with something that doesn't require a lot of thinking! it helps me at least! worked both with jrwi and tma. it's like, doing something monotonous (knitting, sorting files, cleaning the house, etc) can be incredibly boring if i sit in silence and let my mind wonder. alternatively, listening to something long or watching a long movie can be incredibly boring as well because i struggle to pay attention to the same thing for two hours. but combining these is really good, because it keeps both my mind and hands busy, but not overwhelmingly so!

and ough ough ough thank you again for such heartwarming message! im so happy to hear that you feel inspired by my art, and i wish you good luck in your own art journey!!!!!!! remember to have fun and listen to yourself and do things that you find interesting and that you enjoy! don't force yourself to draw stuff you don't like! all art is personal and individual, so don't be afraid to make things "you"! you don't have to do clean line, you don't have to do lines at all, you don't have to do coloring or shading, if you don't like it! and if you do like it or are excited to try, you should go for it! don't be afraid to change and grow but don't force yourself into it!

also don't foget to stretch before drawing its very important!!!!!!!!!!!!

[catiecat1320]

Chapter 9 of 11! [MasterPost]

The shortest chapter...

Read Below🔽

Both hedgehogs are in general high spirits as they trek back through nighttime streets. Thankfully,  Sonic has stopped teasing him, and the fire in Shadow’s cheeks has cooled for the moment. But despite their surroundings now lit enough to prevent any danger of tripping, their intertwined hands have not come apart.

Something between them had changed. Something deep within, something that made him equal parts giddy and nervous. He didn’t know how it would turn out, and he opted not to think about it just yet. They had time. He could sort everything out later, enjoy this moment as it was for now. 

The moon followed their footsteps, watching them closely, and although it looked less majestic than it had been back there, it was special all the same. The road was devoid of vehicles at this time of night, so there was little worry in their minds. Streetlights shone overhead, illuminating their path in an orange-yellow glow, the angles making for quite a few interestingly shaped shadows splashed onto the reflective asphalt.

“Look, Shadow!” Sonic breathed, letting go for the first time since their dance. He giggled, stepping off the curb and into the puddle of shade stretched in the vague form of a hedgehog, hopping around like a child in the rain. “I’m in your shadow!”

Said hedgehog only huffed in amusement, a soft smile resting on his face. It was endearing how pure the dancer was, as if he emitted his own special light, as if there was a sun in his smile, stars in his eyes. There was an innocence to him that belonged only to the youngest and the angels.

“Hey! Hey!” Sonic called, turning to face him like he didn’t already have Shadow’s undivided attention. “Watch. This one’s for you!”

He stretches, cracks his knuckles, and flashes a charming smirk before springing into a cartwheel, passing the pianist with a gust of wind and posing himself in the middle of the road, arms arcing above his head. 

Shade only spots the street in sparse puddles, yet Sonic miraculously manages to stay within them, fulfilling an unspoken condition that he must only step where there is darkness. It’s like a game to him, as much as little kids liked to jump over the cracks in pavement, he avoided the illuminated ground as if it were lava. 

This dance was admittedly more showy than usual, but that may have been required for this kind of performance. He twirls, movements sweeping, body twisting, leaping and flipping from shadow to shadow with insane confidence. The brief moments when he’s airborne, golden streetlight catches on shining blue, and it’s as if the sun and the sky swapped colors for a moment, rising and setting in a glorious second.

Shadow’s heartbeat pounds in his ears like a drum, steady to the flowing song that rang against the stars. He was sure anyone who looked at him then would describe him as lovesick. And he wasn’t about to deny it. Sonic was as stunning as one could get.

Then the sound of an engine breaks through, both hedgehogs swiftly retreating to the sidewalk to let the car pass. He could see the dancer’s petty pout from across the span of the road, upset that he’d been stopped in the height of his performance. 

As they watch the vehicle speed off, Shadow’s suddenly overcome with a sinking feeling, the kind that makes your breath catch as you just know that something’s wrong. Subconsciously, he chews his lip, fists clenching in anticipation. 

“Hey.” He flinched before realizing that it was just Sonic, who had made his way to his side at record speed. There’s worry on his face, a look that didn’t fit him nearly as well as a smile. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he replies, if only to placate the dancer. He folded his arms, idly playing with his fur as the pit in his stomach only grew. “I just… that car. Something about it bothers me.”

Sonic smirks, rolling his eyes amusedly. “Gee, Shads. Are you worried ‘bout little ol’ me too? It’s just a car, nothing to fret over!” He bats the pianist’s fingers like a playful cat, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I… Weren’t we going home? To my home at least?”

He gets a pout in return. “Psh. I’m not done yet! You can go ahead if you want, but I’m feeling inspired.” He pats Shadow’s shoulder and hops back off the curb, gracefully spinning as he surveys his surroundings for his next steps.

The musician sighs and tries shoving the feeling aside. It was probably nothing bad, he told himself. He does have a tendency for overthinking things, and last time it’d led him here, with Sonic, after all. Nothing to worry about.

…In hindsight, he should’ve trusted his gut. 

Should’ve taken Sonic by the arm and led him back to his house, should’ve stood his ground and argued his point, should’ve done something, anything, but let the warning pass him by like a leaf in the wind.

Then maybe things could have played out differently, and he wouldn’t have this memory staining the surreal night he’d been enjoying. But time flows linearly in this world, and there was no way to undo what had happened.

As Sonic held himself with all the agility of an acrobat, unease held Shadow alert. He sucked in a breath, trying to calm the jitters that refused to leave him alone. The music playing down his spine had gotten softer, and he swore there was a precarious edge to it. Prepare yourself, it sang, it’s coming. But for what? What was “it?”

So absorbed was he in his mind that he missed the telltale thump of a car door slamming shut, though perhaps that may have been innocent, just someone who’d arrived home late. He missed a shift in the shadows of the little alleyway serving as part of the backdrop to Sonic’s makeshift stage, one that connected this street and the one behind it, though it was so subtle that it may have merely been the wind.

But what Shadow did not miss was a click. Though barely audible, it caught his attention immediately. He didn’t miss the brief flash in the dark as metal caught light, not like the soft shine that reflected off blue quills, but a threatening one that screamed danger.

Gun.

“Sonic,” he whispered, voice seizing, much too quietly to get a reaction out of the animated dancer. As the sight of a figure in the alley slowly became clearer, his gut scrunched so tightly he felt like vomiting. “SONIC!”

That did it. Emerald eyes snapped to Shadow, glittering with confusion and curiosity. But perhaps he shouldn’t have stopped the idol, for it gave the gunman an opening. An opening to kill.

His memories are jumbled from that point onward.

But he does remember that horrifying BANG as the gun fired, once, twice; the shock written on Sonic’s wide-eyed face as he pitched forward, red splattered in a horrible mosaic across royal blue; the piercing scream that Shadow only later realized was his own.

He remembers cradling the other hedgehog in the middle of the street, but not how he got there. He remembers the wailing sirens as emergency services arrived, but not calling the ambulance. He remembers voices, both demanding and soothing, but not their words. He remembers Sonic being pried from his arms, but not the way they told him he’d refused to let go.

But something he could never, ever forget was red. 

Not the red of love, of passion, the kind that had dyed his cheeks whenever he blushed, no. It was the red that consumed, the red that engulfed everything in a slurry haze, the red that pooled from Sonic’s body onto the asphalt, the red that screamed of danger and horror and blood.

So much blood.

That red would taint his world for days to come.

[jameskaminsky]

Lights, Camera, Connection: Storytelling Lessons from the World of Film

Storytelling is as old as human civilization, but few have refined it like filmmakers. Directors such as Stanley Kubrick have taken the age-old art of narrative and turned it into a precise, emotional science. From the shadows of a corridor to the timing of a close-up, filmmakers understand that every detail contributes to how a story is felt. Today, in an age of digital overload and short attention spans, creators across industries—from marketers and influencers to educators and entrepreneurs—can look to film for timeless guidance on how to connect with an audience truly.

Kubrick didn’t chase trends. He told stories that were bold, challenging, and immersive. What made his work last wasn’t the spectacle—it was the precision. And that same precision, once understood, can be applied far beyond cinema to every form of storytelling today.

Every Scene Needs Purpose: The Power of Intentional Design

In filmmaking, nothing appears on screen by accident. Kubrick was notorious for planning each scene with painstaking detail. Everything had meaning, from the color of the wallpaper to the symmetry of a hallway. This wasn’t just about aesthetics—it was about guiding the viewer’s mind and emotions.

Content creators, too, must think with that level of intention. Whether designing a website, posting on social media, or crafting a blog article, every visual element and word should support the story’s purpose. Random elements, even if attractive, dilute the message. Just as a director asks, “What does this shot say about the character?” a content creator should ask, “What does this element say about the brand or message?” Clarity is key, and intentional design differentiates between a forgettable impression and a lasting one.

Establish a World Quickly: Audiences Need Orientation

One of the first jobs of a filmmaker is world-building. In the opening scenes of a movie, the viewer learns the rules of the story—whether it’s a sci-fi epic or a quiet drama. Kubrick achieved this through powerful visuals and tone, making it clear whether we were in deep space or a dystopian society.

In modern storytelling, especially in digital formats, that world-building must happen instantly. A landing page, a YouTube intro, or a LinkedIn post should immediately communicate the tone, context, and stakes. Is the vibe professional, casual, urgent, or emotional? Establish that quickly. Viewers won’t wait to figure it out—they need to feel anchored. Like a great opening scene, your intro should invite curiosity while offering clear direction.

Characters Drive Stories: Focus on Human Elements

No matter the cinematography's beauty, no story holds attention without compelling characters. Kubrick’s characters were flawed, often disturbing, but always deeply human. They provoked thought and elicited emotion because they mirrored objective human complexity.

This principle applies across all content types. People connect with people—not faceless companies, abstract concepts, or lifeless data. Even a product campaign should feature a story about someone using the product. Even an educational post can frame the learner’s journey as a character arc. Who is the protagonist of your story? What do they want? What’s in their way? Answer those questions, and you’ll instantly make your content more relatable.

Use Conflict and Resolution to Build Engagement

Great movies build tension. The plot revolves around a question: Will the characters escape? Will they survive? Will they change? Kubrick often delayed resolution, using discomfort and uncertainty to engage viewers emotionally.

Modern content should use similar narrative tension. In the beginning, pose a question that creates curiosity or emotional investment. Then, guide your audience through the tension before delivering the answer or solution. This can apply to long-form content like articles or videos and even to short-form formats like tweets or Instagram captions. Conflict doesn’t always mean drama—it can mean a challenge, a choice, or a transformation.

Let Visuals Speak: Show More, Tell Less

One of Kubrick’s defining strengths was his reliance on visual storytelling. He didn’t explain everything. He trusted the audience to interpret meaning from imagery, composition, and silence. Some of his most powerful moments were completely wordless.

In today’s multimedia landscape, visuals are more important than ever. A well-designed graphic, a behind-the-scenes photo, or a video clip can communicate emotion and story more effectively than paragraphs of text. Even in writing, using “visual” language—vivid descriptions, metaphors, and sensory cues—can help readers imagine the scene. Let your audience feel the story through imagery and implication rather than overexplaining.

Sound, Silence, and Atmosphere Set the Mood

Kubrick's sound design often flipped expectations. He overlays a disturbing scene with cheerful music or allows long stretches of eerie silence to build tension. These choices create an atmosphere and deepen the emotional impact.

Storytelling today benefits from the same kind of auditory awareness. Sound design is an emotional tool for podcasts, videos, and even live presentations. Background music, voice inflection, and strategic pauses shape how the story feels. Silence, in particular, is underused. A moment of stillness before delivering a key message can make it hit harder. Don’t be afraid to manipulate mood—emotionally resonant stories stay with audiences longer.

Themes Over Tactics: What’s the Big Idea?

Kubrick’s films often explored deep themes—existential dread, control, dehumanization, and the search for truth. These weren’t just plot points; they were the emotional core of the story. His work asked questions, challenged norms, and lingered in audiences' minds.

Modern storytelling should do the same. What is your content really about? Beyond the facts and features, what are you trying to say? A tech company might ultimately be telling a story about innovation and courage. A nonprofit may be focused on resilience or justice. Identifying and reinforcing a central theme gives your story cohesion, power, and meaning. It transforms information into insight.

Adapt the Medium, Honor the Message

The principles remain consistent while filmmakers work in theaters and creators in pixels. What changes is the delivery, not the essence? Great YouTubers and Instagram storytellers already use film-inspired techniques—establishing shots, narrative pacing, emotional arcs—but in a condensed, mobile-friendly format.

The key is to adapt without losing the core. A tweet thread can still have a character, conflict, and resolution. An explainer video can still evoke emotion. Just as Kubrick never let technology limit his vision, modern creators shouldn’t let platforms define their creativity. Learn the rules of your medium—and then bend them with purpose.

Final Scene: Make It Worth Remembering

A powerful story ends with impact. Whether it’s a lingering image, a final line, or a striking fade to black, filmmakers like Kubrick knew the last moment shapes the final impression.

Your story—whatever form it takes—should do the same. End with clarity, reflection, or an emotional payoff. What do you want your audience to feel, remember, or do? Don’t let your content trail off. Direct it to a firm, deliberate conclusion.

Because in the end, just like in cinema, the most memorable stories aren’t the ones with the most noise—but the ones that make the most profound connection.

[strink-family]

What are some of your favorite drawings you've ever done

Oh wow. That's really hard. Excellent question.

So I went through a bunch of my old art, all the way back to early 2021 (anything older would have no shot at being on the list), and gathered some of what I think are my favorite drawings I've done.

Note that these might not be in chronological order, nor in order of favorites. I don't think I could rank any of these over another (except for one that'll be at the end).

Putting this under the cut because it's really long ♡

Let's start with this one (October 2022). Technically it's two pieces, but they go together. Obviously I like these because they're my header image, but let's get into it a bit. I'm very proud of the coloring on these, especially Chuuya. I think his hair looks really nice. This was back when I actually did colored lineart rather than what I do now (black lineart and set it to overlay), and I matched the colors really well to where it looks almost lineless. I continue to be proud of these almost two years later.

Next up are my GLOOM DIVISION pieces (at least, so far. I plan on doing more~) (May 2024). These are very different from how I normally draw, but they came to me very naturally. I really love the look of these. These pieces are some of the closest I've ever come to matching my visions for pieces, especially with SPKOTHDVL. I honestly find myself going back and looking at them a lot. I'm super proud of these. These are definitely in my favorites.

Next up, this piece from my cosplay redraw project (July 2023). I straight up think this is one of the best pieces I've ever drawn. If I may self-serve for a moment, the shading is immaculate, the posing is really nice, and so are the proportions. I'm extremely proud of this, and I think I'll continue to be for a long time.

Another one of my favorites might be this piece (July 2022). I feel like this piece was a huge milestone for me. It was the first time I did colored lineart, which really jumpstarted my whole "semi realism" style, which led to my art improving a decent amount. The anatomy isn't the greatest, but that's fine. I love the coloring, she looks really pretty, and my art likely wouldn't be what it is now if it weren't for this piece. Thank you red queen Algérie~

This one is another one (November 2023). I really like the shading, the poses, and the anatomy on this. It took me a long time, and it also has sentimental value to me because it's part of an AU that I made and really like.

Next, I really like my Implacable pieces (March 2023). I'm really happy with the shading and the anatomy and just generally how they look. I picked this one of her in her teacher skin rather than her in her normal outfit because I think I like this one more. I'm really happy with her pose and her hair and her face and the shading and the background...it goes on. This is one of my favorite Azur Lane works I've done. I feel I did her justice.

Next up, I love this entire Akutagawa project (October 2023). Akutagawa, in my opinion, is not easy to make look really pretty, and I think I succeeded. I specifically pick this piece out of the four because this one is my favorite. I love his pose and his outfit. The glasses look really nice on him.

Next, we've got this lovely piece (January 2024). This is my most recent Azur Lane work and, obviously, one of my favorites. It took ages and a lot of trial and error, but I'm very happy with the result. Both Hindenburg and Kearsarge look gorgeous, and while the background is kinda simple, I feel like it brings more attention to the characters. Also I'm a sucker for bunny suits and everything bunny🐇

Before we close off, I'd like to share these honorable mentions that weren't quite high up enough to be talked about (and Tumblr also won't let me include any more pictures), but are also up there as some of my favorites. Obviously these span a wide range of time, but they all have their own special charms and elements that make me love them.

Lastly, I'd like to talk about my most recent completed project (July 2024). This right here might be my magnum opus. One of the greatest drawings I have ever done. For those unaware, this is a redraw of a photo of my second favorite musician, Dallon Weekes. It was a bit of a trend to redraw the photo, and I, like many in the I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME community, absolutely adored the photo, and so, while I was very late, I hopped on the bandwagon and made this. It took a month, and because it was so late, that might be why it didn't get as many notes as I might've hoped. But you know what? I don't care. This is my favorite drawing I've done, probably. I think I did an amazing job. I'm incredibly proud of it.

I received this ask and started writing and compiling all of this before I completed this drawing, funnily enough, so I had no idea what my number one might've been. But now, I think I can safely say it's my Manic Project Dallon photo redraw. I know I wasn't asked specifically what my number one was, but I thought you might enjoy knowing.

Thank you for the question! I had a lot of fun thinking about this and answering it~

Anyone who read all of this, thank you. I hope you enjoyed seeing my art, going all the way back to 2021, all the way forward to now. Love you all ♡

[thecameronchronicles]

Eighteen

TW: Dark! Rafe. Smut. Language. Degrading Language. Dom!Rafe. Cheating.

SUMMARY: Your sister’s boyfriend shows you a special kind of attention the night of your birthday. 

WORD COUNT: 2600

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Can you please please do Dark!Rafe fucking his girlfriend’s little sister ??? 💜💜

Eighteen

Becoming eighteen meant freedom. Adulthood finally cresting to open the doors seventeen years prior had been closed. It meant you could now vote, although you held little interest in politics. It meant you could play the lottery, although you had no need as your trust fund was worth more than any 'jackpot'. And it also meant that you were of age for him. His eyes had always followed you and what you believed to have been some form of protection as he had been your sister's boyfriend for the last eighteen months. But all of this would be subject to change tonight. The night of your eighteenth birthday. 

You couldn't really understand how or why your sister and Rafe had even begun dating as they barely seemed to act like anything more than mannequins when they were together. Posing for photos seemed to be the reason behind the apparent longevity of a relationship everyone was surprised to have lasted as long as it had, including you. But this was because of the way they interacted. Undermining and belittling one another, almost frustrated that the other was breathing their air, but always acting in love when a series of eyes were set to them. And during those times, you would catch him looking at you with a humorous 'save me' look that you always believed was innocent enough, his way of being close to you without crossing any strange lines. But he had every intention tonight to obliterate those lines and twist them as he pleased as those once kind eyes trained on you from across your family's beach house. 

"Happy Birthday!" Sarah exclaimed, wrapping you in a warm embrace that was truly incomparable to any others. She had become a close friend despite the fact she was a few years old and having already graduated, but she always treated you as an equal. 

"Wasn't sure what to get a girl that has everything…" She teased as you offered a polite 'you didn't have to do this', before finding the most gorgeous silk dress wrapped beneath that now pulled bow. 

"Oh my god-"

"Your sister and I spent hours finding the perfect one. Blush pink, your favorite color-" You wrapped your arms around her neck as you had only wished for one thing this year. Not the dress. Not the color or its fabric. But to be seen as an adult. A woman. And this dress was certain to do that. 

"Better hurry and get dressed…Everyone will be here soon." She clapped excitedly as you ran up the steps and into your bedroom, standing before the mirror before taking the dress against you. For a moment, you began to play with your hair to see if it looked better up or down, curled or straight, before stilling in place as you caught his eyes on you. But when you turned to validate this, the space left in the door left ajar was completely empty as you could even hear him laughing with Sarah’s boyfriend, Topper, just beyond the door. Offering the idea of this just being wishful thinking as you could help but have a crush on him when he was always kind and handsome, funny and protective of you, you returned your focus to the dress. 

Descending the steps an hour later, a vision in the near pastel silk and hair pulled to a bun with loose tendrils barely kissing your skin, you seemed to have aged in that short span of sixty minutes. Even as you smirked and spoke, maturity seemed to set in as you began to make your way through the guests. But unbeknownst to you, you were unaware just how one particular set of eyes had been glued to your every movement. Especially when anyone of the opposite sex would pay you any form of attention. As far as he was concerned, you were dressed for him. Only him. And a part of you had. A part of you wanted to seem mature to him, as if some fantasy would prompt him to notice you…

How unaware you were that this was his very intent.

"Here…" One of your male friends spoke before producing a Tiffany's necklace as a gift. Although lavish in thought, it might as well have been something from a quarter vending machine as far as Rafe was concerned. You deserved a neck full of diamonds not a dainty teardrop that was anything but the style you now wore. Because of this, he scoffed as Sarah and your sister would note but overall ignore his response. Following this, you took your leave to the bathroom for a moment's reprieve. 

But you were present in the room for a second before the door opened at your back. You stood in silence for a second as you watched him lock the door behind him.

"I wanted to give you my gift." He spoke dramatically as you still felt safe, despite his domineering and even edgy actions. 

"You didn't have to buy me anything…" Your mind ran wild for what he bought for you as you knew whatever it was, you would cherish it always. It could be a cheap plastic ring and you'd keep it on hand just in memory of him. Or it could be a diamond ring with the promise of forever and you'd die young and beautiful in this moment. But that was a pipe dream for many reasons. 

At least you thought so. 

"I didn't." 

"Oh…good, I don't need-" But he walked towards you, palms set to the vanity at your back as he had you pinned against him. 

"You're going to be showered with clothes and jewelry," He flicked the necklace he detested, "All things that aren’t unique, even if you make them uniquely beautiful…" Your breath hitched at his words. 

"But I'm going to give you an experience. Something no one else can…" You swallowed hard as he moved even closer to you before turning you towards the mirror. 

"But I want to know one thing first…" You slowly nodded. 

"Are you a virgin?" Your eyes widened. 

"No." You confessed as he seemed torn between disappointment and relief before you noticed how his eyes ran up the lines of your curves from behind, meeting with yours in the reflection as he'd finally speak in return. 

"Good. I didn’t want to make you bleed today-"

"Rafe-"

"I know you think about me. I know you've had a little crush on me…it's cute…But I also know you need someone to show you how it can be…" 

"My sister-"

"This is about you. It is YOUR birthday. God knows she makes every other day about her." His hands were now at your breasts. The fire of guilt burned in your stomach, but lowered along with his fingers. 

"Take 'em off." 

"We can’t-" He took the back of your neck in an unkind hold. 

"What are YOU gonna stop me?" He scoffed, "Either you take them off or I rip them off." You stood wide eyed as he turned you to face him. 

"I don't want ro make you cry on your birthday, sweetheart, but if you keep pushing my buttons, I'll marvel at the sight…I'll get over my guilt." He teased as you obliged, sliding the underwear clean from your hips as he quickly apprehend it. 

"You can beg. You can say my name, pull my hair. You can even come anywhere you want. Just NOT until I say and you have to keep it down…would hate for you to ruin that perfect little reputation because you couldn't keep your mouth shut-" He kicked your feet apart. 

"God knows you already can't keep your legs…" even if the words should have pained you, the thrill of what he could do without even touching your body had been enough to forgive it. 

While taking hold of your hair and pulling it slowly backwards, he guided you backwards until you could look up at him. 

"Open." You obliged as he put the panties in your mouth. 

"Sweet?" You nodded. 

"I'm gonna find out for myself. You touch those, and you're gonna have to explain to both of your sisters why this pretty little dress got ruined…" He was on his knees in seconds, dress pulled to your hips to expose your ass as his teeth traced each cheek. Leaving behind a line of this graze, a sudden slap to your ass would make him chuckle behind you. A dark humor that reminded you how forbidden this had been. And just as your lips parted to warn him to stop, to remind you both that this was wrong and crossing a line neither of you could or should allow, his hand guided you into such an angle that his tongue could meet your clit. 

“I knew you’d be sweet for me…”

“Rafe-” What sounded like a warning would be silenced as he guided your touch to his hair as he quickened his paces and even deepened his tongue in exchange from yrou clit to your sex, teasing what was to come, before bringing you to tremors you’d never had prior to now. He would only stop when he felt you were satiated enough for him. 

“Look at yourself…Breathless for your sister’s boyfriend…letting him put his fingers and tongue wherever he wants because you’re so fucking desperate for it.” It was this that made your stomach twist. The thought of a role reversal and how you wouldn’t wish it on anyone. No matter if your sister and you weren’t as close as you’d like or if you had burned for Rafe like you had since you could remember. 

“We can’t…” You tried to explain as he seemed to agree, a slow nod making you relieved. 

“Then why are you dripping down your thighs for me?” The sound of him unbuckling and unzipping his pants sent you to turn to face him, but he would only correct you with a hand to the back of your neck. 

“I am trying REALLY hard to not make you take me on your knees, but you try me one more time and I’ll have to ruin that pretty little makeup…” He cocked his head, “How WOULD you explain why you’d be so raspy then, huh?”

“Please, Rafe…I don’t want to hurt her-”

“Funny…please right now, that’s all I want to do…” He was suddenly inside of you, the force of his body against yours, sending you into the painful edge of the vanity’s counter. 

“Fuck…” He groaned, pulling your hand from his hip and onto the surface before you both, pinning your fingers flat on both sides, as he glided effortlessly to and from your welcoming heat. 

“Rafe-”

“You look so fucking pretty right now…Trying to be good…Wanting to do the right hting…” He scoffed, driving one of those hands to your neck, squeezing enough to silently order those eyes open. “But you’re a whore…MY whore…To use exactly how I want….Say it.”

“Please-” He forced your neck into a turn as you would be forced to face him. 

“Say it before I have to mark up my favorite part of you…” He explained while teasing your ass with his second hand, leaving your fingers clutched to the vanity all on their own. 

But before you would have the chance to speak the words or be reprimanded for your silence, a knock came to the door. The sound of your name came from the edge of your sister’s lips as your eyes widened in horror. He would withdraw, but only to turn you to face him and lift you onto the counter, his cock returned between your legs, before you could stop him. A hand over your mouth would still the shakes of refusal made from your hair, as he would only bask and grin to your fear as it endorsed him, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you to your whimpers and silent pleas having informed you of this darker side of him you weren’t aware of. 

“You’re gonna come for me..right fucking now…while she’s just outside that door.” He spoke into your ear as you shook your head. 

“Please…Please don’t…We can’t-”

“Then why are you clenching me? Hmm? Why you THIS close?” He asked, withdrawing again, pulling your slick to his fingers and driving it between your lips, before reinstating his cock once again, all motions that made you winded and into a further descent of your guilt for just how you relished in each of his movements. 

“Suck on my fingers for me…be a good girl…Let me share it with you…” You obeyed but only to use his fingers as an outlet for your withering silence, before his paces quickened. 

“I’m gonna give you my cum. THAT is my gift.” The sudden hand around your neck would set you into the mirror as his fingers came to the lines of your necklace. With a scoff, it was pulled from your skin. 

“Rafe-”

“You’re better than this. You deserve a necklace all for you.” While explaining this, he set his hand around your throat. 

“Isn’t THAT better? Perfect fit…Beautiful…” You slowly nodded as he squeezed just enough to play with your breath and control it as he deemed satisfactory. 

“You know why you get my cum today? Not because it’s your birthday…not because I have been dying to tear you out of this dress all night…but because you’ve been a good little whore for me. But you still don’t get to come until you say that…You’re a big girl now…use those big words for me…”

“Whore…” You whimpered as he leaned closer. 

“What was that?”

“I’m your whore.” You finally spoke as he pulled you harder into him. 

“Good girl.” He groaned before quickening to such a pace that words were no longer needed. You knew every thrust made and every indent made of his fingers had been another display of the forbidden rush you both found in this moment. But the moment never seemed to end. When you’d find that edge, that satisfaction, he would tease its arrival only to scoff and pull back. It left you whimpering and trembling, but also desperate, as he would take pity. 

“I want you to beg for it. I know it hurts.” He bit his lip at the idea. “God, I love that it does…But, I’m gonna make it feel REAL good for you…” You nodded as you began to plead. A soft timbre would rise into desperation as your nails ate into his skin. 

“Keep going…But don’t come-”

“Rafe-” He tightened his hand around your throat. 

“NOT. UNTIL. I. SAY.” He growled as you nodded, an endless display once again, before he finally spoke the word you felt no longer existed. 

“Now.” And as if his voice activated some button within you, you were spilling over his cock, allowing him the further lather that let him pound into you with his own release. 

“Look-” He pulled that grip around your neck lower until you saw the stain made on his pants. 

“Rafe-”

“I was wondering if you were a squirter…” 

“I-”

His eyes darkened. “And I am the ONLY one who will get to know that. You let anyone else touch you…feel you…even dance with you tonight, and I’ll kill ‘em.” You wanted to laugh off his words, but you knew they were true…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @belcalis9503

[clouseplayssims]

Current Series

-Medieval Color Legacy Challenge (yt) -Unlocking the Uberhood (yt) --Building Aquarium Lot in UTU hood (yt) -Kingdom of Edirann (tumblr only) -Where is my CC Challenge? (tumblr only) -Race To The Crown Challenge (formerly tagged MCC) (yt) -Different Faces Disney (yt) -Oregon Trail (yt) -Not So Berry (yt) -Hreinndal (?) -Lepacy Challenge (twitch) -Royal Aspirations Challenge (twitch - will be Medieval Charter Challenge once complete) Twitch: Monday (10-2 TS2), Thursday (10-2 TS4)

(Listen, I know I am insane and I flip through hoods like I'm poppin' pez but I have a terrible attention span okay.)

~The Future~

Only two currently have "end" dates that are kind of close. For Challenges assume they end at the end of the challenge which is based entirely on how much I play it.

-Where is my CC Challenge - will be retired upon completion, I just wanted to finish the rules. All sims have previously been uploaded so they're available to download.

-Oregon Trail - will have seasons, will stop running wagon trails once the rules are refined and it'll be a Victorian/Edwardian/Steampunk fantasy of a hood. Probably tumblr-only.

I plan on a tumblr-only hood for my Disney sims for fun called Fairytalia for now. Might just be posed pictures and short stories idk.

BACC in ~s p A c E~ - limited CC file, altered rules, not sure when I'll start it. Leaning towards this being a twitch series, but maybe youtube.

I'm still going to post pictures for everything on tumblr because I can, but I wanted to write down everything I'm working on currently as a reminder. I will be adding to my pinned post the specific tags to follow specific series :)

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[rodeoxqueen]

Dante, Vergil, and V Watching One Piece With Their Male S/O

Howdy, 

This is a surprise gift-fic for @mooshs-crack-headcanons. Paul, if you are reading this, *socially-distanced cowboy kisses*. For my lone rangers who don’t watch One Piece, get on that horse because this show is fantastic. 

-Rodeo

Dante 

“Alright, I’ll watch it with you.” He says, coming over to your place on Cavaliere. He doesn’t really watch that much TV. Mind you, he doesn’t pay the internet and cable bill anyway. 

Dante has a really bad attention span for keeping up with shows. However, One Piece always has flashbacks to the previous scenes and he can always catch back up after spacing out.

 He never remembers the names. He just calls them by their hair color or powers. 

He likes Shanks and Ace a lot. He relates to the older and carefree Shanks and of course he loves that fiery cowboy. (When you-know-what happens, he actually starts sobbing. )

“I can tell why you like this show’s characters so much.” 

“Why’s that?” He gestures to his own chest and Zoro’s bare torso.

“You like man boobs, don’t you babe?” He teases. You smack him on the left tit. 

He really loves the zany chaotic scenes in the show, such as Luffy just grabbing his friends and catapulting them somewhere. The absurd humor really gets him laughing, such as when Zoro, Nami, Brook, and Kinomon are running around in Punk Hazard. 

“Wow, that was a lot for one arc.” 

“Wait till we get to the 900th episode-” 

“W H A T.” 

His brain explodes at the Wano arc. 

“I connected the lines-”

“You didn’t connect shit.” 

 He will make up his own attack names.  

“Gomu gomu no…...getting a beer.” He laughs as he pops open a Bud Light. 

“Gomu gomu no….smacking my boyfriend on the ass!” You hate that one. 

All in all, he loves the show and watching it with you.

Vergil 

Vergil doesn’t know why you agreed to sit down and watch so many hours of One Piece. However, it gives him an opportunity to hold you as he reads his poetry book. 

Eventually, the crackhead nature of the show distracts him and he ends up watching it with you. 

He actually gets really into the lore of the show. The poneglyphs and the origin of the devil fruits are fascinating concepts to him. 

“Of course you’d be into the devil fruits, Vergil.” You scoff as he gently traces your neck. 

“Don’t forget who’s your king.” He snarks back, smirk dropping as Luffy shouts another ridiculous attack name. 

“He sounds like my idiot brother.” Vergil gripes as you refill your glass.

There’s a lot going on in this show, a lot of action and a lot of slapstick humor. He has a blank stare but it’s because he’s trying to read into everything. 

Vergil remembers all the characters’ names, but forgets their faces. The opposite of his brother. 

The fight scenes are very interesting. He always gazes at the sword fights with this intensity, scrutinizing what the characters can do. 

He probably tries a couple moves like Law’s Room and Zoro’s One Sword Style. He doesn’t know what a weab is but still assaults Dante when he calls him that. 

One time you caught his doppelganger doing Franky’s “Super” pose and you laughed so hard you cried and slid down a wall, unable to stand up. He tries to convince you it never happened. It definitely happened. 

He tries not to be emotional when he learns about the Donquixote brothers’ backstory. One brother giving everything for power, the other brother fighting against him? Where has he heard this before? 

He likes how One Piece gives these powerful, top dog characters such riveting although sometimes strange backstories. It’s humanizing and validating. 

Vergil attempts not to show that Mihawk is his favorite. 

“He’s the most reasonable one here. It is relatable.” He argues. 

“Yeah, just like you, he also has a punk goth child with an attitude.” You point to Perona on the screen.

“Foolishness.” He says endearingly. 

It’s a decent show. He always knows where you guys left off, no matter what. 

V

V loves hearing about what makes you passionate. So when you talk about this pirate show, he offers to watch it with you. 

Next thing you know, he’s just blown away at how this show is about pirates but strays so far from that historical period. 

“My love, there is a pink birdman-” 

“Yeah, that’s just the tip of this iceberg.” 

Griffon joins you in your escapades, Shadow not caring to do anything but cuddle the two of you. 

V appreciates a good backstory and inner monologue. Connecting the plot points and character motive allows him to tolerate the moments of excessive fanservice. 

“I would ponder why anyone would consider this appropriate. This does not move the plot in any way.” 

“Yeah, straight people are crazy.” 

“Agreed.” 

Griffon loves Doflamingo. So, so much. V, on the other hand, prefers Basil Hawkins and Law.

“Gee, I wonder why.”

Law’s tattooed and sarcastic, Basil mysterious and poetic. Those two are literally your boyfriend’s fusion. He’s also white-blonde and black-haired too. What a coincidence. 

Law’s backstory gets V a little bit under the weather. It’s a bit too relatable for him. Luckily, you’re there to comfort him.

“But look! After everything, Law got a lot of friends and crewmates who would do anything for him, and a giant polar bear.” 

“Yes, you’re right. I have my family and darling muse right by my side.” Griffon squawks as Shadow raises her head and grumbles with disapproval. 

“Hey, asshole-” 

“And yes, my panther familiar and pestering chicken,” V smirks. 

V appreciates the show and once in a while, he will laugh at a well-placed joke. 

All in all, the boys have fun watching One Piece. It’s slapstick but handles social topics and tragic backstories with such grace. Although some points are oddly too relatable or hit a soft spot for these Spardas, it makes them feel like Oda actually understands them in a distant way. 

[grimoireofwritings]

Headcanons: The Magic Knight Captains & Their Art Styles

Just some random idea that came to me today while reminiscing on what the Captains do in their free time. I began to picture how it would play out if each of them were instructed to show us their art skills! Here's what I came up with.

Captain William Vangeance:

This man is not too bad at art! He doesn't put a lot of pressure on himself to make perfect sketches and he has low expectations for himself... So he mainly considers it a hobby set aside for his rare moments of leisure time. Since he's so chill about it, his sketches come out looking nice when he's more relaxed. This is usually the case since he prefers using his bird journal - he likes to bird-watch and put together little drawings of the winged friends he sees while laying all content out in his garden. He's no prodigy but his hand-eye coordination is pretty good and after years of practice his birds and trees turn out pretty impressive. Very embarrassed if asked to show people though.

Credit: Found in a "how to draw" guide.. no name

Captain Nozel Silva:

He prefers appreciating sophisticated art made by others.. and really doesn't care much for making it himself. If he draws anything, it'll usually be rushed - as he knows he's got more important matters to focus on.. Still, he is capable of putting together a sketch every now and again of something simple. Usually plain posable objects. At the end of the day, he's not really a big art freak and even at a nice art museum he gets bored after an hour or so.

Credit: unlisted. Message if you know where it's from!

Captain Fuegoleon Vermillion:

He likes art, a lot! Like William he's no prodigy, but it makes him happy so that's enough for him. He prefers to paint, and his subjects are often women, focusing on anatomy because he enjoys exploring movement / dimension through bodily posing. He likes painting silhouettes that are dancing and often have flowing clothing, or hair. Definitely focuses on the beauty, passion, and artistic self expression side of it. He isn't as open about it because Mereoleonna poked fun at him for it so much and he'd rather not deal with any of that again.. but people who know about it always talk about how he's quite talented.

Credit: Anastassia Orehova

Captain Yami Sukehiro:

He's listed in the manga's assorted questions brigade as the #2 ( Behind Rill) judge of artistic style and taste! He's got an excellent eye for art, and he can be really creative medium wise, but I still feel like he's a bit too lazy to sit down for a long time and really commit to a canvas or sketchbook. He doesn't find it rewarding enough for his attention span.. but he seems to be pretty good at making simplistic, cartoon styles really expressive.

Credit: Olga Shvartsur

Captain Rill Boismortier:

He is ALL about color, vibrancy, and bold presentation! His paintings are always so full of vivid life and brightness, it's clear to see he's a person carrying a wondrous imagination and endless creativity. Everything he's made seems like it's bursting with optimism and excitement, as if the artist couldn't contain himself. He is extremely versatile and can tackle almost any subject, which is super impressive for his age. His one flaw I'd say is that sometimes his paintings, despite being gorgeous technicality wise, can get a little busy or cluttered as he struggles to not get carried away with all the different expressive ideas he comes up with. He's still learning!! ( Bonus headcanon: Rill has a mandatory weekly art class set aside as "training" for the Aqua Deer magic knights.. Everyone attends regardless of their actual interest levels because nobody wants to handle seeing Rill devastated that people didn't show.)

Credit: Svenja Jodicke

Captain Dorothy Unsworth:

Pretty self explanatory? She's a kawaii sailor moon theme anime waifu. All her drawings are magical anime girls... But they only appear in her dreams, so nobody knows she can draw well!!

Credit: source link to deviantart page was a removed account 😭 please lmk if you know the artist

Captain Jack the Ripper:

Nobody wants to talk about Jack's art. He doesn't wanna draw and nobody wants him to draw. Anything he makes is simply a cursed image, no questions asked. He's got the artistic skills of a grade schooler... And even though he can be somewhat creative, the fact that there's always some kind of disturbing / violent undertone incorporated within the picture... It just looks like a demented child's drawing.

Credit: could not find name but it's a canvas displayed in "The Museum of Bad Artwork" labelled as "The Butcher" and tbh that makes it even more terrifying

Captain Charlotte Roselei

She's listed in the top three WORST artists / judges of fine arts in canon... Which is interesting to me, lol. I think she probably stopped trying a long time ago after being teased for how her stuff turns out, lol. She tried drawing or painting and would get frustrated with her inability to create an image she's picturing in her mind.

Credit: could not find name but it's a canvas displayed in "The Museum of Bad Artwork"

Captain Kaiser Granvorka:

I don't know a whole lot about him tbh but I know he is also listed as an excellent artist next to Yami. I think he'd be really into sophisticated art! Kinda like Nozel but far more dedicated and passionate about it. Still-picture images, but he finds a lot of joy in shapes and objects, and messing around with shading.

Credit: unlisted. Message if you know where it's from!

And that is all my friends!! I am still trying to hunt down some art credit for these images, some were on Pinterest or just unlisted altogether. I'm gonna put them down once I come back and edit this post when it's not 3am 😂 plz let me know if y'all can help me out with that. I know there's an online site somewhere that's made for this but I forgot what it's called???

This was a lot of fun to make though. If you disagree or have thoughts, feel free to reblog or come chat in my ask box! Goodnight luvs 🥰

[orangepanic]

I saw this “100 OTP questions” by @the-moon-dust-writings and figured I'd procrastinate:

1. Who loves flower crowns more?

Neither of them really, but Asami might make Iroh wear one just to laugh at him.

2. Who is the one who likes to cuddle?

Iroh. Asami likes it, too, but he usually initiates.

3. Who has awful taste in music?

Honestly, both of them. Asami likes terrible dance music and Iroh likes obscure combinations of horns and bells and stuff from different cultures.

4. Who is the meme lover?

Asami thinks they’re funny. Iroh doesn’t quite understand.

5. How did their second date go?

Iroh tried to take Asami somewhere very fancy, but the wait was too long. They ended up making out in a shadowy doorway down the street and missing their reservation entirely. Iroh was mortified, but Asami dragged him around the corner to a low-key noodle shop that has since become their favorite restaurant.

6. How many children do they want/have?

Asami thinks about three. Iroh, as many as Asami will agree to.

7. Who hides the weapons?

Iroh hides weapons for Asami around the house so she’ll always have something on hand. In a drawer in the kitchen, on her nightstand, etc. He knows she can take care of herself… and he stashes weapons for her anyway. Asami rolls her eyes but secretly thinks it’s sweet.

8. Who is the better dancer?

Asami. She likes dancing, and learned formal dancing in school. Iroh can’t dance at all, having skipped out on all his lessons as a child after bribing his instructor. He thought dancing is boring, but likes dancing with Asami and lets her lead.

9. Do/Did they have a theme wedding?

No. They quite deliberately have a very normal wedding, including cutting out a lot of the more stuffy Fire Nation customs because Iroh doesn’t want Asami to feel out of place not having any family present.

10. What do their parents think of them dating?

Hiroshi Sato is livid, and actually tried to have Iroh assassinated from prison. His little girl, marry a firebender? A prince of the firebenders? Iroh’s parents are more accepting. Izumi initially thinks Asami is too young and gives Iroh a hard time about how quickly he got serious, but quickly comes around when it’s clear Asami is very mature for her age. Within a year Iroh’s parents are both hounding him on when he’ll make it official.

11. Are they a super sappy couple?

They are that couple everybody hates.

12. How did they get together?

They meet during the Equalist revolution, but don’t get together until long after. Iroh has a crush on Asami almost immediately, but spends forever sitting on it thinking it wasn’t the right time and trying to be friends until one day he just kind of slips up and kisses her. She kisses him back. It turns out Asami liked him, too, but she isn’t great at reading people and had no idea he was interested.

13. Who asked the other to get married?

Iroh just kind of blurts it out one day.

14. Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes?

Asami is the night owl. Iroh makes the bad jokes.

15. Who is the nerd?

Oh my god, both of them. Asami is more of the classic nerd. Iroh is more of a dork.

16. Who knows the most obscure facts?

Iroh.

17. Who makes the other a flower crown?

Two questions about flower crowns out of 100?? Changing this to who is more dominant in bed. Asami.

18. Who likes to read?

Iroh. They both do, but he’s much more into it.

19. Who bothers the other person while the other person reads?

Asami. She has the shorter attention span.

20. Who tutors the other?

They both would in different subjects. Asami is better at math, physics, etc. Iroh is better at philosophy and languages.

21. Do they have similar taste in movies?

No. Asami likes gory slasher films and lots of action. Iroh scoffs and thinks they’re dumb. Asami, in turn, thinks his period dramas can be kind of boring, and refuses to count documentaries as movies. But there’s a healthy overlap in things like Vikings and Game of Thrones.

22. How do their personalities complement each other?

Asami helps Iroh lighten up a bit, drawing him out of his shell, and gives him an anchor and a sense of home. She’s more social than he is, and a lot of her friends eventually become his. But she’s also quiet enough and serious enough that she doesn’t tire him out and can feed his need for downtime. Iroh, in turn, loves seldom but deeply, and gives Asami the kind of fierce, unconditional love and stability she needs. He’s also genuinely interested in her projects, is smart enough to follow most of it, and is one of the only people who can occasionally beat her in Pai Sho. They have a lot of fun together just being nerds.

23. How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon?

They don’t have to tell anybody. It’s all over Iroh’s face like a big neon sign.

24. Who has better fashion sense?

Asami, but not by much. She’s more up to date with trends, while Iroh’s style is clean and classic.

25. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

Hoo boy, both of them. Do not go there.

26. What songs do they sing together in the vehicle?

Neither of them sing in the satomobile. Iroh has a decent voice, but he’s a bit private about it. Asami mostly hums.

27. What other couple would your otp get along with?

Iroh quickly becomes BFFs with Bolin. Asami and Opal aren’t quite as close, but they like each other’s company and have fun as a foursome. They also get along quite well with Pema and Tenzin.

28. Who likes to prank the other?

Iroh tries more often. Asami’s pranks are more successful.

29. Who is the one who loves to take pictures?

Iroh, though generally Korra is the picture taker in the group.

30. How would they react if they found out they were soul mates?

Iroh raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.” Asami only shrugs. They both already knew that.

31. Where would they live?

They like Republic City and decide to stay downtown, first in an apartment and eventually a larger townhouse.

32. What type of dragon would they own, if they could have one?

Whichever one Iroh made friends with. Asami is a bit wary of animals and would need him to convince her it was safe.

33. If they were both vampires, what type of vampires would they be?

The kind that live in a beautiful house with perfect collections that took hundreds of years to make. Iroh has first editions of everything in a giant library, arranged in a complex system only he understands. He’s working on his 14th language. Asami has invented artificial blood and doesn’t miss sunburns. Occasionally she’ll throw one of those big fancy vampire balls just so they can both get dressed up. They’re pretty happy.

34. What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

They once went as Lady Tienhai and the last king of Mo Ce because picking something obscure and historical was the only way to get Iroh into a costume.

35. Can they name each other’s favourite food?

Kind of. They are both really into food, so picking a favorite is hard. But if the question is can they order for one another, absolutely.

36. Do they have pet names for one another?

Asami sometimes calls Iroh “General Hotstuff” when she’s teasing. Iroh sometimes calls Asami “sex pretzel” when he’s 1000% sure they are alone.

37. How do they cheer each other up?

Asami is more of a gift giver. She’ll show up with Iroh’s favorite take-out or make him something in her workshop—anything to make him feel special and valued. Iroh is all about quality time, and will swing by Asami’s office to haul her out on surprise dates. He also gives great hugs.

38. Do they show a lot of PDA?

No. Iroh is very uncomfortable with PDA, especially when he’s in uniform. Asami follows his lead.

39. How old were they when they got together?

Asami was 19-20, Iroh 24-25.

40. Who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

Iroh, 100%. He’s such a sucker.

41. Can they do yoga couple’s poses?

Yes, though Asami is the only one who really tries.

42. What is their song?

They don’t really have one.

43. What does their room look like?

Asami moved in with Iroh, so it’s very basic. White walls, perfectly made bed, a neatly organized desk in the far corner by the window. He’s a total minimalist, having spent most of his adult life on a ship. Asami added a very fluffy comforter in *gasp* a color and lots of pillows.

44. Who would be the one to kill zombies while the other keeps them grounded?

They’d take turns, and at some point Asami would turn it into a contest.

45. Who makes the other breakfast in bed?

Iroh. Asami is a terrible cook.

46. Who loves kids more?

Iroh.

47. Do either of them have a crazy ex?

Not crazy, but Iroh and his ex are not on good terms. He doesn’t like to talk about it.

48. What are their favourite colours?

Asami, purple. Iroh, black. He gets annoyed when people get him so much red stuff.

49. Who likes to cook?

Iroh. He fired Asami from the kitchen, something they are both grateful for.

50. Who is the forgetful one?

Asami.

51. Does either of them know how to fight?

Have you met these people?

52. What do they do for Valentines Day?

Iroh would probably plan something elaborate for them to go out. Asami would plan something sexy for when they got home.

53. Who swears more?

Asami, at least out loud. Iroh mostly swears under his breath.

54. Who has the better comebacks?

Asami. It’s not even close.

55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale?

Probably Asami, unless it was about the kids. If anyone comes for Iroh’s kids, they’d better hide.

56. Who reads buzzfeed?

Asami.

57. Who is the hopeless romantic?

Iroh, hands down.

58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand?

Asami can manage it.

59. Who can rap better?

Asami, though Iroh is the only one who actually listens to rap.

60. Do either of them want to go sky diving?

Asami would love to. Iroh laughs. “Been there.”

61. What do they usually text about?

Some version of “I miss you” or random pictures of stuff. They generally only text when Iroh is away as they’re both busy during the day.

62. Who is the dramatic one?

Asami has a shorter fuse. Iroh is more ridiculous when he loses his shit.

63. Is either one confrontational?

Not really.

64. What is their favourite cuddle position?

Asami will lay on top of Iroh on the couch like a sandwich. It’s the only position she seems to be able to nap in.

65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)?”

See above about terrible taste in music.

66. What are their parenting styles?

Iroh covers a lot of the basics. He sets a schedule, makes lunches, tells bedtime stories, is more likely to help with the homework. Asami is the one who gets them around and does most of the interacting with teachers, other parents, etc. They share things fairly equally.

67. Who would be the more laid back one?

Iroh.

68. Who listens to more vulgar music?

Asami.

69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

Yes. Asami can be secretive about some of her projects, both out of an abundance of caution but also because she likes a big reveal. Iroh keeps some past relationship stuff close, and will occasionally read a steamy romance novel for “tips.”

70. Who is their go to couple for a double date?

Bolin and Opal

71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date?

Iroh tips very well.

72. How do they work out a fight?

Asami yells. Iroh yells back. One of them storms off. The other one waits about half an hour then goes to find them, usually with an offering of food. There are hugs. Somebody cries. Then they finally talk it out before falling asleep together.

73. Who brings home an illegal pet?

Asami. She is less likely to have a pet, but if she does, it’s going to be a weird one.

74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on?

Iroh is on the side by the window because he likes to get up with the sun.

75. What is their favorite photo of them two together?

There’s a photo Korra took at the beach where Iroh has Asami thrown over his shoulder right before dunking her in the water. This is the picture he takes with him when he’s deployed.

76. Who takes longer in the bathroom?

Asami.

77. Who has more songs on their ipod?

Iroh. If you can call them songs.

78. What movie did they first see together?

Iroh took her to Last Days of the Sun Warriors. She fell asleep. He said the book was better.

79. What do they like to see each other in?

Asami thinks Iroh’s butt looks great in jeans. Iroh got Asami a red silk robe from the Fire Nation and likes to see it fall off.

80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

Iroh.

81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children?

Mid-20s, though they don’t have them until a little later.

82. What do they love about each other the most?

Iroh likes that Asami is tough and smart and a problem-solver. Asami likes that Iroh is kind and brave and has a strong moral compass.

83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details?

They are both big picture people, which is sometimes a problem. Of the two, Asami is probably better at details, but she’s also forgetful.

84. What would they write on their partner’s social media’s for their anniversary?

Asami would probably put up a picture of them and say something brief but sweet. Iroh doesn’t really understand social media and would just paste a heart-eyes emoji.

85. Who is bad at math?

Iroh. He’s not bad, per se, but Asami is very, very good.

86. Who googles everything?

Asami.

87. Who does stuff on impulse?

Both of them in different ways. Asami is generally more flexible. Iroh usually has a plan but makes big decisions completely off the cuff.

88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

Lots of physical touch. Iroh will kind of just wrap himself around her in one giant, whole body hug. Asami will spend some time cursing out whomever is causing the issue, then let him lay his head in her lap and give Iroh a good head scratch or massage.

89. What is an inside joke they have?

There was one time they had sex in Asami’s office at Future Industries, so occasionally she’ll drop things like, “feel like coming by the office?” with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. Iroh is, predictably, very embarrassed. Also interested.

90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

Asami: *exists* Iroh: *smiles*

91. What is their favourite holiday?

New Years is a big deal in the Fire Nation. Iroh loves his family and likes going home, and Asami has grown to love it almost as much.

92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive?

They take turns. Both of them can have quite a temper when pushed too hard.

93. What is their favourite board game to play?

They’re both big Pai Sho fans, but can get into any kind of strategy game. Nobody really likes to play them though, they're too good.

94. Who accidentally sets something on fire?

Asami. Iroh hasn’t had a fire accident since he was four.

95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store?

Asami. She’d rob the store, too, but no way is she letting Iroh drive.

96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert?

Iroh booked a private box at the Republic City Opera, thinking that was an impressive thing he should do on a date. It turns out neither of them like opera, and by the end they were both making fun of it.

97. Who sleep talks?

Asami. Iroh thinks it’s funny.

98. Who is the more social one?

Asami, by a long shot.

99. What are their karaoke songs?

Neither of them would really sing karaoke, but Iroh cannot hold his liquor like at all so if he ever got really plastered Asami might be able to drag him up there. By which point he’d be too far gone to have an opinion on the song and would sing just about anything.

100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh?

Asami.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Wrong door

I watched the latest Sanders Sides video and I have feelings that I need to write about. So here a little one shot.

OBVIOUSLY SPOILER WARNING FOR SANDERS SIDES

Summary: When Roman leaves he doesn’t go to his room straight away. Maybe his turbulent mind sought this place out to fit his mood. Maybe deep down he knew that there was only one person who could help him understand what he did wrong.

The conversation leads to discussions and remenicing of their past, why the King ever split, why Virgil left to the ‘dark side’ to begin with and the reason Virgil doesn’t trust Deciet despite living with him and the others for years.

After Roman sunk out he appeared in a much darker environment than he expected. His room was always bright and colorful, packed with Disney memorabilia, red drapes and stage lighting. The gloomy atmosphere he was faced with now made his already fragile self-esteem crumble even more. Was this because deceit... Janice, was right about him? Was he really not the hero? But Paton always said... ‘The brave, handsome, unbeatable Roman,’ But then again... ‘I don’t always know the answer,’ He felt his chest tighten. It was harder to breathe. No. He... He isn’t bad. He only ever wanted to help Thomas. He was trying to do the right thing... But so was Patton. And De... Janice, of all people had been protecting Thomas from him when he lost it... “Ro? What happened?” Roman’s head snapped up. Virgil what... Then he realized where he was. The Tim Burton poster behind him, he cobwebs the dark atmosphere. This was Virgil’s room... He came here instead of his own... Why? “Is Thomas mad at me?” the younger side asked nervously. “I could tell he felt really stressed just now, I tried to leave him be after the whole wedding... I’m sorry, I know I panicked when Mary Lee and Lee came over, but...” Roman raised his hands to calm Virgil down. Today had been terrible for everyone. But their purple patched cautious guardian was probably the only one who would’ve had an equally horrible time no matter what they had done today. The callback would’ve been hell because so much was riding on it. The wedding was horrible because, well… mandatory social interaction, and Virgil had been particularly terrified of saying the wrong thing to their friends. What if they realize we aren’t having a good time? What if they think we look dumb in this suit? What if they realize it’s a rental and think we don’t care? Virgil took a few deep breaths and nodded. “I’m really sorry. I know how important today was to you, and I made us blow it,” he sighed. Roman shook his head. “No one is mad at you Virgil. That’s not what Patton and I were talking about... I wish you’d joined though,” he sighed, raking his hand through his hair. His nervous energy intensifying with every minute. But was that because of the room or because of his own thoughts? Probably both. “...Ro. Maybe we should head to your room instead?” Virgil offered gently. It wasn’t quite like him to sound so sincerely worried. They usually communicated their affection to one another through sarcasm and mild jabs. But ever since Remus made an appearance Virgil hadn’t been his usual self in general. He’d been more withdrawn, more careful with what he said. Not less active in his contributions, but Roman had seen his angsty friend less around the mindscape almost like when he wasn’t part of the group. As their friendship grew, they’d taken to having Disney nights in his room where they’d discuss the movies and Virgil even tolerated Roman singing along to the songs at full volume. But recently... He probably should have popped in here before now instead of ‘giving him space’. Was that even really what he’d been doing? Or was he just too much of a coward to face him and possibly have to own up for his past mistakes? He really was a  terrible friend. So egotistical. Why couldn’t he ever consider other’s feelings? He’d tried today, really had tried not to hurt Patton’s feelings while discussing doing the right thing. Tried not to push. Tried to really listen to what he had to say so he wouldn’t make any more mistakes. He’d been ready to swallow his pride and take a step back when it seemed like Patton was too busy with not hurting his ego to really do his job . And it was still not enough The aching in his chest intensified. Right, not the place for these thoughts. Roman looked at Virgil gratefully and nodded. He could use some time with his newest friend. Virgil was good. Helpful. A team player from the start He’d never pretended to be his friend when he was not. And even when they hated each other -though hate was a strong word for the aversion he used to have for the embodiment of anxiety- Virgil had made performances better, more exciting,  even inspired him to create. How things had changed since the fanders first met him. “Alright, breathe with me, and let’s go,” he instructed. Roman focused on the other side’s breathing and before he knew it they were in his room. With the familiar lavish decor, the countless posters and trinkets... But it all looked a little... off. It was not ready for a guest, and he was always ready for guests. There were decorative couch cushions on the floor, some of the red velvet drapes were askew and the whole room felt just a little wrong to him. Imagine coming home and someone had entered and pushed nearly everything a touch to the left. Nearly imperceptible, but enough for you to know something is wrong. Great even his own room couldn’t give him comfort now. He let out a sigh, not his usual dramatic sigh, just a plain old tired sigh, and sat down on the couch with his head in his hands. “Ro? What happened?” Virgil asked confused. “I know something really got everyone upset. Even pops felt... Unusually distraught. I stayed in my room to not make it worse. But Thomas seems okay now. So why aren’t you... You know? Tatata,” Virgil finished with a week imitation of triumphant trumpets and Roman’s usual introduction pose. It made the embodiment of creativity smirk despite himself and then he sighed again. “Janice happened,” he muttered defeated, feeling completely spent. “Janice... You mean Janus? Deceit? He... He told you?” Virgil muttered confused. “Janus?” Roman mused. “That makes slightly more sense,” he allowed before leaning back and letting his head rest against the wall. Whatever, he still thought it was a weird name. Janus... He’s never going to get used to that. Maybe he should stop reading fan speculations on them though. Perhaps if he hadn’t been thinking of Deceit as Damien this whole time he wouldn’t have had such a strong reaction to Janus. Not that he wouldn’t have teased him. He absolutely would. He’d been upset at the serpentine side as it was. He’d been about ready to snap the whole time and the frog thing happened and D, Janus showed up and he didn’t know how to feel or what to think. So, yes he lashed out. He tried to get a little control over the situation because he couldn’t deal with one more thing tilting his worldview. And then... He felt the couch shift under an added weight. Right, Virgil is here with him. He glanced aside. Virgil was sitting on the armrest, looking at him expectantly. He normally would protest against Virgil putting his shoes on the couch, but right now he couldn’t care less. His friend needed a summary. “He... replaced Logan again and pushed Patton into being a frog monster. Accused Patton of deceiving Thomas, on accident, but still, and then he... Convinced Patton and Thomas to like him.” he summarized. Creating a monster to fight so he could be the hero. How absolutely despicable. “... Wait back up... Logan, is Logan alright?” “Physically or emotionally?” Roman asked dryly. Because apparently Thomas and Patton forgot that Janus hurt others. Hurt Thomas, hurt Patton, Virgil and Logan. And yes, Roman too felt hurt by the snake. Remus might be the only side not hurt by him and that was because Remus lacked the attention span to be upset at anything. He envied that sometimes. The ability to not care at all. Suddenly there was knocking on Roman’s door. “Roman? You in there sport? I brought hot coco?” It was Patton. Roman grabbed one of the fallen cushions, put it between his stomach and his legs, which he pulled towards his chest and curled up in a ball. He didn’t want to talk to him right now. After a moment of silence he heard Virgil get up, walk away and then he heard the door open. “He’s taking a nap. Seems really out for the count. I was going to check up on Logan next, but could you do that? You know how emotional roller coasters like today take it out of me. Besides, I think Lo would much rather hear from you anyway. I’m going to nap in here. My room is a bit too much for me right now you know?” “Oh, of course Kiddo! You take it easy. I’m going to need to talk to you about something though...” “How you’ve left Janus of all people in charge of Thomas’s post learning moment aftercare? Yeah, Roman gave me the headlines. I trust your judgment Patton. But I don’t trust Jan. Not for a second. He’d never hurt Thomas on purpose, i know that, none of us would. Thomas isn’t self-destructive by nature. The problem is, I’m not sure if he’s ready to see that he can hurt him on accident.” It was quiet for a minute. “I think I know what that’s like... I’m really sorry kiddo. I know that I’ve been the cause of a lot of your pain too,” their paternal side offered softly. Silence. Roman imagined that Virgil was speechless by that declaration. That was Janus’s great power. He’d gotten Patton to think that he was the bad guy. Patton! “I remember when Thomas was still young and you just started to really manifest. Before... Before we pushed you away as a bad thing. You’d hang onto me and panic whenever I got nervous about Thomas doing a wrong thing, thinking a bad thought... I did that to you. Because I was too strict and I was teaching you to think in black and white too. And when we pushed you away... Of course you thought you had to be the bad guy to do your job. I taught you that. And I hate it. I wish I could go back. Go back and hug little you and me and say that it’s okay. But I can’t. I just hope that you’ll believe me when I say... I’m really sorry and I’ll try to be better.” A few more moments of silence. “Pops... you aren’t entirely to blame for me believing I was bad. Janus, has just as much to do with that, if not more.” Roman forced himself to stay where he was. He knew it! He knew there was a reason Virgil reacted to the others like that. He should’ve listened to him. Asked about his history before. The whole callback situation wouldn’t have been such a stressful episode if he had just heard Virgil out. “What do you mean kiddo?” “The thing about him is, he deals in extremes. Today you might have seen him in a sincere and nurturing mood, but we have all seen how deceitful and destructive and manipulative he can be,” Virgil explained gently. Mindful of a sleeping friend who wasn’t really asleep.  “You saw what that behavior did to Roman, even if he didn’t mean to hurt him.” Roman felt a jolt of warmth at the protective edge that coated Virgil’s voice at that statement. Oh, how had he been so wrong about him? All this time he could’ve had a valiant knight at his side. “One moment he looks at you and sees a friend a brother... A son.” That nearly made Roman jump up again. Janus had hurt Virgil, that was the only explanation for the way his voice softened at that last title. He’d slay the demon. They’d already established that nothing they did could do physical damage to the others as long as they didn’t let it have power over them. Janus, who’d been wrangling Remus for years, would surely not blink an eye at being run through, or beheaded. So it wouldn’t be that bad if he and Virgil got a few therapeutic stabs in for their benefit... but for now he forced himself to remain silent. He’d talk to Virgil about the best way to avenge him later. After Patton left them alone. “The next, you are a pawn to be manipulated in any way that suits what he thinks to be the greater good in that moment. And when he speaks you never know for certain if it’s a painful truth you need to hear to become better, stronger, or a hurtful lie to make you suit his needs.” ‘I don’t need to flatter you’... ‘Who is the evil twin’ Virgil took in a long breath and let it out with a sigh. “It’s a long story, and you should really go get Logan hot coco just the way he likes it. He deserves some patented Patton love as well.” “Alright kiddo. Thanks for being honest with me. I hope you’ll tell us all the story later so we can understand. But take your time. And thank you for trying to spare my feelings by not telling me that Roman isn’t ready for a talk yet.” Well, there went that illusion. “You two rest up. Take care of him for me, and tell him... Tell him I’m sorry I let him down.” Again Roman nearly went for the door. But he wasn’t ready. With the way he was feeling now, he’d lash out again and he didn’t know for sure who would have to face the brunt of his emotional outbursts. “I’m sure he’d say that you did nothing of the sort. Don’t let Janus get into your head too much. Ugly truths and painful lies Patton. Don’t fall for the latter just because he gave you a little of the former,” Virgil warned. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night then. Thomas should be taking a day or two to relax and take care of himself so you should get plenty of time to recover,” Patton assured Virgil. “Night, see you in a minute when something goes wrong anyway.” Roman could hear Patton chuckle before the door closed. He expected Virgil to come back to sit where he sat before right away, but he heard him moving around the room and then the kitchen... What was going on? Suddenly he felt a blanket being draped over him, pillows being put all around and Virgil’s warm body joining his under the blanket. “You tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it until the end times. But pillows and blankets help me feel safer sometimes. And you know, Logan told me once that physical contact with a friend can be calming or whatever I didn’t really listen to the whole thing, you know how he kind of goes on. But I wrote down the gist of his tips. And then there is the always reliable, comfort food,” he announced as he gave Roman a fresh cup of hot coco with little marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream. What had Roman nearly tear up was that it was in his mug. One with a little Stitch figure that said “Ohana Means Family”. Not one of Patton’s pet themed mugs. His own. Virgil had made him this from scratch. Exactly the way he’d like it when he’s feeling down. He heard a clank and saw that Virgil had also put down a can of rainbow mini muffins. He kept those around to have as a treat on good and bad days. They had a delicious molten chocolate filling. When had Virgil even see him take one? It didn’t matter. This was everything he needed to get through the story he would have to tell, and the one he had to hear. “So, spill,” Virgil instructed as he laid a hand on his back in support. With a deep breath Roman told him everything as he’d experienced it from the moment he’d gotten home until the moment he’d popped up in Virgil’s room. By the end he was sobbing. The mug of hot coco was halfway, but stood on the coffee table as he was busy ruining Virgil’s hoodie with his tears. Damn all of this. He was too tired to hang on to his pride. Virgil didn’t make fun of him though he let him cry and listened to his exclamations of: “I just don’t understand what I did wrong? Why... Why am I the bad guy in this? Didn’t I do the right thing? Going to the wedding? I just... I just wanted to do the right thing. Thomas counted on me to give him hope. To rise above the challenge and defy that serpent’s scheme despite the odds. But other than a brief feeling of victory... I’ve never felt worse. I mean, Remus got the better of me for the first time in ages. It’s not right! Why do I feel like I’m being punished for doing what we knew was right, while Janus is being celebrated? Janus was wrong... Wasn’t he?” He’s glad Virgil is the only witness to this breakdown. If Patton saw this, he would blame himself. And Logan might try to help but have not much helpful to offer, other than an objective analysis or an experiment that might nudge Roman in the right direction, but he was in no mood to dissect any complicated explanations. Remus would make him feel worse, same goes for Janus, even if he were to try and be helpful it would only confuse Roman even more. And then there was... Well, he never was much help when it comes to solving problems. There was a reason why he hadn’t joined them in the physical world for any of their discussions. And Thomas... God he’d never regain Thomas’s respect if he’d see him like this. “You did good Ro. But we all knew that we felt conflicted about it when we left the door. We’re all on edge and from the sound of it, you weren’t at fault in the escalation of the conflict. Patton is the one who wasn’t honest with himself out of fear to disappoint Thomas. And Janus was the one to push him to the edge. And it was Janus who’d hurt you in the past and didn’t bother to apologize or acknowledge it had even happened. Of course you were on edge around him. But that’s just how he is,” Vigil sighed as he rubbed Roman’s back soothingly. That reminded Roman... He sat up and wiped his eyes. “What happened? You said that Janus was a big part of the reason you thought you were bad or something?” Roman asked picking up his mug to give himself something to focus on other than the soul bearing moment they’d shared. Virgil sighed and looked up to the swirling lines that decorated his ceiling. “Right. Remember the last time I had one of my fits before I started hanging with the others?” Roman nodded. He didn’t like thinking back to that time. He and Remus hadn’t been separated for that long yet and there were times when he still felt wrong without him. And in those moments he blamed Virgil, then still just fear. He remembered little of being ‘The King’, didn’t even really recall their old name, but one of the things he did remember was the split. He was thinking of something he thought was funny, something with a word mom would scold them for, but that made it even funnier. Patton had scolded him and something about the reprimand had triggered Fear. Ironically, seeing Fear in distress like that had triggered a protective instinct in the king and he’d been so eager to comfort the boy. He’d been torn. Part of him wanted to defy Patton and tell Fear that Thomas wouldn’t get in trouble for a small thing like that. The other wanted to promise to never think of anything upsetting ever again so the little timid boy could relax a little and play with them. Next thing he knew one part was promising these things while hugging Virgil and another was giggling and running around shouting all kinds of strange and bad things and letting his train of thought jump from one topic to another as random things kept catching his attention. Virgil had always been the inspiration for the noble prince. For his first act had been to protect the confused boy from the source of his troubles. He’d called for his princely attire to resemble the prince in Cinderella and swung his sword, then still a harmless toy sword, and Remus had actually enjoyed playing a ferocious dragon. And Virgil had laughed at their game and relaxed. Roman and Remus never questioned their existence... But Patton and Logan had been surprised and Patton had soon come to understand that all the things he would scold the king for were stuck in the green twin, while all the nice thoughts were with the red one, who introduced himself as Roman to them. Roman received praise and watched his brother get scolded and eventually ‘the snake man’ had come to pick is brother up from their room. Roman had pleaded not to of course, as any decent brother would. But then the snake man said something that terrified him. Thomas didn’t want his brother’s thoughts in his head. So the snake man took his brother somewhere where Thomas could pretend he didn’t exist. And he’d forced Roman to stand still and let Thomas forget about the other creativity. He couldn’t even mention him again. Not when Thomas might hear at least. That had scared Roman. When he told Patton about where his brother was taken he’d been assured that something like that would never happen to him. Thomas loved being creative. Roman was the hero. He got to be at the wheel almost all the time. He was the Prince after all... It had been comforting and terrifying at the same time. What if he messed up? Would Thomas stop loving him? It was then that the feeling of wrongness started showing up. And that scared him even more. He couldn’t miss being with Remus. Remus was bad, Roman was good. And good people didn’t want to be around bad people. Bad people were put away and forgotten about. It was while he was in one of these moments of self-doubt that Fear panicked at something he considered irrelevant. It had gotten to Roman and he’d blown up at Fear for freaking out over a stupid stain. This had triggered Virgil even more and Thomas had jumped back and knocked over one of the nice glasses from the counter somehow. His mother had been angry, but in that worried way only parents can really pull off. This however had gotten Patton and Logan’s attention. Logan had scolded Fear because his disproportionate reaction to a small problem created a bigger one. Patton had scolded him because Thomas was in trouble now and it was their task to keep him out of trouble. Roman had wanted to tell the others that Fear had reacted to him shouting, not the stain, but the others were already telling Fear that if he didn’t watch out, he would be pushed away and then what would happen to Thomas? This had caused Fear to run away and next time Roman saw him, he was ‘a bad guy’. “I never really said i was sorry. I swear I wanted to explain to the others why you freaked, I did, but next time we saw you...” He didn’t know where to look. He felt so ashamed of his actions. Virgil patted his back. “It’s alright Sir Singalot,” he grinned, using the nickname that Roman had approved off as a sign of peace. “You guys didn’t push me away. That’s just how you see it now through a veil of guilt. I never intended to leave. I needed to get away for a minute,” Virgil explained casually, but then his voice grew tense as his eyes darkened at the memory.

“And he was right there,” he whispered and Roman could imagine the figure swooping in. Offering an insecure and neglected side a comforting embrace. “He was telling me both the things I feared to be true and things I wanted to hear someone say.”

He could imagine that too. The smooth voice spinning truths and lies in a delicate trap to lure young Fear to his side of the consciousness.

“He told me that you guys would never really want me around. But he also said that that was stupid of you because I keep Thomas safe. That you needed me more than you realize. And if you weren’t going to listen to simple reason, then I’d have to be loud so I couldn’t be ignored.” Virgil looked back towards Roman for with a sad, understanding smile.

“He might have believed he was helping me. That he was saving me many more of these arguments. He’ll probably swear up and down that he was looking out for me and Thomas and even all of you.” Roman got the idea that Virgil was trying to say something about Janus’ intentions towards him as well. But he couldn’t find the will to believe that the man hadn’t been malicious towards him or even any of the others when he did the things he did. Good intentions or not –like with the cake the end result was still the same. Virgil seemed to agree, because his face darkened again as he continued his story. 

“But when he found me after you guys accepted me, he started saying those things again and I said he was wrong and that we’d all been going about it the wrong way. I wanted us all to step into the sun...”

“Dear Evan Hansen,”  Roman grinned teasingly to lighten the mood. He got a playful shove and a smirk. He’d take the victory. It kind of made him feel better. To know that he could still be a good friend despite the disaster of today.

“He slipped,” Virgil continued. “Or maybe he thought I’d feel bad for him and stay... I don’t know. He broke my trust and I’ll never be able to be sure if he’s truthful with me... But that day, he said he wouldn’t let you guys take me away from him.” Roman’s eyes widened as the implications of that sunk in. He wasn’t sure if he felt sorry for the man or wanted to punch him even more.

“I realized in that moment that he had manipulated the truth to ensure that I wouldn’t get along with you guys. He was lonely and he didn’t want to share. So he took of the blindfold and broke the piñata open to get the friend he wanted. And for years, that worked. But then, because Thomas accepted that he has anxiety, I got a real seat at the table, even if no one liked me being there. And then we worked together in the open more often and well... You know what happened. He hated that I spent time with you guys. He hated that I had nice things to say about Patton, that I kind of appreciated the debate with Logan... That I admired your... drive.”

“Wait what?” Roman shot up in surprise, nearly losing the cover of the blanket in the process. He hadn’t expected a sincere complement. He’d been ready for a little jab like ‘tolerated your presence’ or something. Not admiration...

“Don’t make me regret this... I always kind of looked up to you. Because you were never afraid to go for what you want. I don’t envy that ability. But I think it’s cool that you can.”

Roman was speechless. It succeeded in making him feel a bit better, but it also left him in awe of his friend. This is why he appreciated Virgil so much. He was sincere. Always. He didn’t sugarcoat anything he said what he thought the way he thought it. He might have learned to voice his concerns more clearly and less like death threats, but he still said what was on his mind. So a complement like this form him? Well, that was the highest praise he could imagine.

“Anyway...” Virgil continued with a blush, avoiding Roman’s gaze. “Feeding your ego aside.” He took a deep breath which brought Roman back to the here and now. Right serious talk time.

“The fight got ugly. I accused him of lying to me all this time for selfish reasons. He denied the reasons I gave, but not the fact that he lied. I got so mad. I told him to stay away from us. That I never wanted to see his face again. And I’ve been pissed ever since. I didn’t want you guys anywhere near him, because I can’t be sure that he won’t hurt you the way he hurt me, whether he wants to or not. And I was right. He hurt you, he hurt Patton and Logan and even Thomas. It all led to a big lesson about self-care and everything. But I agree, we can’t let our guard down around him. Ever.”

Roman hugs Virgil close. “Want me to stab him for you? Because I would totally stab him for you,” he promises.

Virgil allows a small chuckle and returns the hug. “I’ll think about it.”

Just then their surroundings changed and they were sitting on the bed in the bedroom. “Thomas must be getting ready for the night,” Roman observed, some rest would be great. Dreams took care of themselves. He could chose to influence them but tonight he couldn’t be bothered. Remus might give them some weird twists but who cared? At this rate, they’d also let him have a seat at the table one of these days so he might as well start getting used to having him around again. But if Remus was accepted back, would that make them be ‘the king’ again? No. Not thinking about that tonight.

He felt Virgil get up next to him. “I’ll get going then...”

“No,” Roman hurried as he pulled Virgil back into his side. This got him a surprised look, but he didn’t care. “Neither of us should really be alone right now don’t you think? And I don’t think you were exactly lying when you said your room was too intense for you right now,”

Virgil shrugged. “No... But...”

Just then they both manifested their sleepwear. A comfy shirt and sweats in their respective colors.

“Thomas is going to sleep. We should too... And I really don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now,” he confessed. This seemed to convince Virgil. It wasn’t like it would be the first time. Well it was the first time they’d both sleep in his bed and in their pj’s. But it had happened that one of them dozed off on the other ones shoulder during a movie a few times. No big deal.

So along with Thomas they settled in for the night.

Virgil felt that Roman was still tense and it was affecting Thomas’s ability to fall asleep. At least, Virgil told himself that this was the reason why he turned towards him wrapped his arms around his fellow side and started singing, his voice drifting through the dark room. “There are shouters and murmurers, loan sharks and burglars...” by the end of the song both had relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

There it’s not perfect, i started writing at nine in the evening and it’s now almost two. So my brain is fried. Might write a follow up shorter bit about the inside out perspective on the last scene with Lee and Mary Lee when I’m actually awake. Edit: Fixed the spelling a bit

With love lovelivingmydreams

Next part this is going to be longer than I planned

[thattimdrakeguy]

New 52 TEEN TITANS #3 Read Along - The fact this got made is still shocking.

It’s been a while since I done one of these. It’s probably been since last year or so. This isn’t so much of a formal review where I try my best to explain why something doesn’t work, with tons of back references, or interviews, and contexts, and such. I might do some of that, but I’m mostly just writing this along the same time I continue to read it.

I’ve already done the first two issues, and if I can I’ll link them in the post somewhere.

Basically, this series gets about everything wrong about the returning Core Four for this reboot. They made Cassie the tomboy a “girly” thief, Conner the punky flirt a creepy emotionally numb stalker, Tim the insecure dork a super genius that blew up part of a freaking skyscraper, and Bart the teen with an attention span problem into an arrogant jerkwad loudmouth.

With the origins later given in the series, the boys are revealed to not reaally be the characters we knew at all in a more literal sense. This Conner is a clone of an alternate version of Jon, not Clark and Lex. This Tim Drake, is literally only Tim Drake in name only, as that’s the name this teen got in witness protection. And this Bart Allen, isn’t even related to Barry.

So these are versions of the characters that are them in literally name only, bar Cassie (sadly). Although, they’d later retconned Tim’s origin back (which doesn’t make sense). But what else can I compare them to but the originals?

--

A really common criticism of this series, and one that’s pretty dang valid in my opinion. Is just how unlikable everyone is-- or at least the Core Four, because I feel like we can all be honest and say that most people just read this for the Core Four, and sometimes Bunker. (Like Bart’s condescending here. Like “I’m Kid Flash, girl.” Maybe I’m just reading it too 1940s, but it comes off as really dickish.)

I mean seriously, how many people do you know talk abut Skitter? The original characters that Lobdell came up with are really hit and miss for me, mostly miss. Because I find Skitter so forgettable, that even though I’ve read the first few issues of this series just for entertainment value, I still forget she exists. She could’ve been so much more interesting, but he just doesn’t give her much.

To me, a good character has a personality that you can notice, grab onto, and have lots of unique stories with, that simply work, not even because it causes a great drama, but just because the perspective the character will have in any situation depending on the circumstance will be interesting.

Which is one of the reasons why I find Tim an interesting character, because his perspective is one that’s very interactive with any given circumstances but will still work for me. An insecure, super hero fanboy, that’s doing his best to be brave, but is secretly scared, with the cleverness to do things, but the anxiety that he can’t. Which the circumstances they give him, like having to make sure he proves he should be Robin, having parents at home, not feeling like he’s good enough, constantly seeing others better them him. It’ll just make him an interesting perspective to read from that won’t get too repetitive in any way that interferes with the enjoyment, because there’s a lot of levels you can take his harsh feelings, or things to interact with, that it won’t always be predictable what’s going to happen with him, and you want to read to see more.

With this series and quite a bunch of other original characters made, they have soap opera writing. Which works with fleshed out characters like the iconic 80s incarnation of the Teen Titans, but when the new characters don’t have a well-formed personality that you can really grab onto and gain constant interest and intrigue from, you just have a lame duck.

When your main character’s traits are “I’m angsty and sad”. No one is going to be able to invest themselves with that. They need to be more third dimensional and genuine to make them a character you want to pick up each issue for.

This series even with the old characters fails at that, by making them into absolute butchered heaps of rotted rump rather than their full personalities.

At least the art is pretty creative early on in it’s second page, I will give it that.

--

Then there’s Bunker--

--who I really want to like, but just can’t find myself enjoying.

A lot of these characters I’m unfamiliar with I want to like. They’re minority characters with very interesting concepts, but writing so flat that it ruins any chance of paying attention to them. A common curse when it comes to POC and a bad writer like Lobdell.

But Bunker actually has a personality, but the reason why I can’t find myself attaching myself to him is because he feels like an uncomfortable stereotype character. An outdated one that you’d see in the 80s or 90s to either seem inclusive or use as a joke rather than a true deal character.

Bunker is a flamboyant, religious, fashion involved, gay, Latino. Something that feels like you’d really bet he wouldn’t be if he wasn’t gay or Latino, because it’s just all based in stereotypes. Like if the pages weren’t colored, and you didn’t have the context he was gay, you’d probably still guess what he’s supposed to be just because of how much they involve stereotypes with him.

However, despite the stereotypes, he is the one most people can remember from this series beyond the core four, because he at least has a personality, and they actually try to build up a unique mystery to him, that would make you want to continue to know them.

And there is something about his confidence and religious beliefs, and determination that does feel very genuine, and makes you actually like him despite the stereotypes.

You want to know what makes you able to tell he’s a better made character than the other relatively new, to straight up new characters? You can actually talk about him, and have a lot more to say about them then his backstory, two personality traits, and angst. Even if his personality seems limited at first, they still write it in a way that’s genuine enough that you can get more out of it, a lot like what I was describing with Tim earlier. 

He still feels like a character that you could write a solo about, and with a good enough writer and personal life, would actually make for a very rereadable series, because you just enjoy seeing him on his journey, because it won’t always be the same exact things. He has loyal personality traits about him, but depending on his circumstances, it won’t be the same side of him you’re seeing, and it won’t feel contrived. He has potential to become a true third dimensional character, and not one that just feels like he looks like one, but isn’t really.

But that depends on where the writing goes with him-- and I can’t remember where it goes. But take away the dated stereotypes and there’s actual good potential with Bunker. Making your character feel like another decade’s minority caricature is kind of a turn off when it comes to feeling comfortable reading them.

Which is why some don’t tend to like him.

--

There’s not a lot to say about this quick page of Cassie, besides the fact they make her come across as apathetic and nuts. She’s also mildly sexualized given it looks like she’s posing for a fashion shoot and not just closing a door, which feels pretty typical of the team that made this book.

--

And because of Lobdell’s bizarre writing and tone changes, I don’t know if this is supposed to be taken as serious or comedy, because of how abrupt it is, and how a fight broke out right after and we find out the old guy is Tim somehow convincing someone he isn’t like-- 15? I think he’d be either 14 or 15, not because that’s how Lobdell intended him to be, because I believe in a now lost interview he said Tim was “probably” 16 or 17. However, they didn’t settle on Tim’s age till Damian was near thirteen, meaning Tim would’ve been either fourteen or fifteen here, depending if Damian was eleven as I remember, or ten at the start of the New 52.

And here’s some more out of character Tim, because New 52 is what you get when you skim through Red Robin without any context, and being edgy is still really popular with the teenage demographic at the time.

This is a Tim that blew up a building, is an incel towards Cassie, and is overall an arrogant prick.

How Lobdell thought anyone thought any of a good idea is beyond me, but I figure he’s just not self-aware enough to realize that he just made one of the most unlikable protagonists I’ve ever seen, and absolutely bastardized who was once a mega-fan-favorite.

Although, this is pretty cute and in-character. It’s something that definitely fits in with a classic Tim comic, but down let this make you think Lobdell knows how to write Tim, because he makes it really obvious all the time that he doesn’t really.

--

And that’s basically everything relevant that happens in this issue-- not a lot when you actually read it, and not just me spouting off the proverbial mouth as I try my best to mentally process this freaking comic.

Conner doesn’t even show up, most likely because he was the only one with a solo, that Lobdell was also writing (you can probably guess accurately what the quality of that was too).

A lot of it is just more of the same, and it’s tedious, although it’s tedious nature is not so much on Lobdell, as he’s said in interviews before that it was editorial or a publisher (I can’t remember to be honest) that made him not have them previously know each other. So he had to work from that.

Which goes to show just how much DC knows how their characters and teams work, given the reason why Young Justice worked so well was because Tim, Conner, and Bart, already had stories where they duo’d up, and teamed up before they were even official. Which allowed them to have a preconceived friendship, they could build dynamics that were naturally built off of their unique personalities, which made everything feel natural and good to go when they did have an official team comic.

Here you have a Tim, that’s supposed to be very much a rookie of only one year, acting like he’s the greatest protégé talent ever, searching out for metahumans and coincidentally running into them, just to make some kind of story that would explain them being together for a team.

I’m not saying they have to redo the duo stuff again, because I’m pretty sure most readers already know their dynamics, and as for new readers, it doesn’t take a lot of time to say “We’re just good friends that like hanging out” does it? They have issue zeroes for each comic for a reason, they could’ve easily had a nice summary there if they wanted.

New 52′s obsession with trying to fit everything they can in, but have everyone still be relatively new, made everything a mess.

Like isn’t it weird that Superman only started being a super hero FOUR YEARS before Tim was? Doesn’t that sound entirely too squeezed in?

Then because they messed with the characters so much it works less for old readers as well. Like they have Tim, only a year in, acting like all the out of character elements of Red Robin, with an origin that’s a Bizarro styled mirror of his original one, with nothing that made him the popular character he used to be.

Same for the others.

New 52 is partially scary, because it shows just how little they know about what made them work.

I’m not against reboots in comics as a concept, they do need some modernization, and clean-ups every now and again, but you have to keep what works in there, or else the reboot will be a total failure. And paint-jobs and fan service like Rebirth aren’t gonna work either, when the heart of it all is still just so bad.

All this is a lot easier to say in hindsight, but DC Comics really has to work towards remembering their mistakes if they actually want to get better again. They’re doing a bit better at it, as forced and contrived as it can be sometimes. So they are getting somewhere.

But this is only the start of a Didio-less era. Looking like good things are coming, and little presents that truly make it seem true, is something that’s only going to last for a little bit. They have to still do the work, and learn what worked for their characters in the first place, and reremember who they all are.

Otherwise sales will just get worse again.

But I’m genuinely hoping they’ll at least begin to learn from mistakes. No one gets a win otherwise.

--

Oh, and he’s the entirety of the fight advertised on the cover. “Red Robin vs. Bunker”.

They stop fighting right after this.

It’s the comic book equivalent of clickbait if I’ve ever seen it in my entire life.

[seeds-and-sins]

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 6)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Homelander agrees to take Carly to her apartment, then someone knocks at her door.

 The flight to her apartment complex was absolute hell, just like the rest of her day had been so far. If Homelander hadn't been there to catch her every time she came plummeting down to earth, she would have killed a lot of people, she was sure of it. Not to mention, the feeling of being 20,000 feet, or higher, in the sky was not easy to get used to. She hated roller coasters and airplanes and zip lining, and just about everything that had to do with heights, so when Homelander urged her to go higher she felt like her heart stopped. It was beautiful, a fantastic view of the city. However, she was certainly not used to flying in the sky, or being bulletproof, or having lasers shoot out of her eyes, so she couldn’t really enjoy that view. Homelander had to keep reminding her that if she really did fall, "You won't feel a thing", which only made reality progressively worse for her. 

    When they finally arrived she had ended up clutching to him like he was her last breath, begging him to sink the landing so she wouldn't blow clear through several stories in her descent. She knew how amusing this was for him, she could see it in his eyes every time she would looked to him for help. He was the worst person she could seek guidance from, but in these desperate times, he was the only person she could seek guidance from. He had been manhandling her, dragging her around, criticizing her for not being able to catch on so quick. This must had been some sort of dream for him.

   Then, of course, there was the name: Lady Liberty. It was catchy and classy, but who the fuck would come up with a name on the fly like that?! No. He had been ready, waiting, ever so patient, and he said it like she was already a supe, like the name was burned into her flesh at birth. She imagined herself flying beside him, wearing his colors, flashing his abilities, what a sickening thought to think that would get him off? She used to laud the man, then she found out he was just some lab experiment, like all the other supers, and now she was too. What even was this? What was she doing? Where was she? Oh yeah, she was in her apartment. She didn’t even realize because it didn't feel the same, she didn't feel like herself. 

   When she entered, Homelander in tow, she went straight for the alcohol. She scurried around the bar counter, grabbed a scotch glass and poured some whiskey for herself. Homelander watched silently as she downed the whole glass in one gulp, then she tipped her head forward, wincing her lips and poured another. He then continued to stalk around, probing the entire apartment, although she knew he had seen it before. Despite it being speculation, she figured he had stalked her, or watched her in the past. The fact that he knew where she lived and that he knew where her clothes were was suspicious enough. With everything going on, she didn't really have much time to sort out her feelings on the matter. She downed another full glass, gulp after gulp. The burn of the whiskey melted into her, and she fucking needed it. 

"That won't work. Trust me." She caught her breath, hand clutching as gently at the bottle of whiskey as she could. 

"What won't?"

"You can't get-"

"Don't say it, Homelander. Don't you fucking say it." He shrugged, then continued to walk around the perimeter of her apartment, a full on inspection. "Can you not fucking act like you haven't seen this place before?" She left the whiskey and empty glass, turned off now by the fact that she wouldn't feel its effects no matter how hard she tried. 

"I did," He paused in stride, eyes focused out the window spanning the wall, where a balcony hung. "To retrieve your clothes, remember?" 

"Oh, don't play innocent, it doesn't suit you." Homelander snorted, almost nervously, then faced her again with a smile. 

"Carly, I don't have any idea what you are talking about." Her bare and dirty feet padded against the wood as she started towards the hall that lead to her bedroom.

"Sure you don't." She remarked sarcastically, zooming past him.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower. Go watch TV, or something." Carly did have a moment over by the bar, where she had to reel herself back into reality, yet again. Homelander was in her home and she had superpowers, it doesn't get more fucked than that. Even more so, Homelander had been spying on her for who knows how long, and he was in her living room, and she had superpowers. She needed a shower so bad. She needed to just wash all of this shit away, physically and emotionally. Homelander watched her disappear down the hall, she could feel his eyes piercing through her.

    She entered her room, closing the door behind her, as if that would stop the great Homelander. She rested her head back against the door, careful not to put all of her weight on it in fear of it breaking behind her. She closed her eyes, tried to settle in to this feeling that had been coursing through her since she woke up. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it into the hamper that stood not so far off by the door, leading into the bathroom. She then discarded the sweatpants, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. She turned to face the long side oval mirror on her nightstand, eyes softening at her damaged state. She looked like Carly, but she didn't feel like Carly. 

   She twisted her waist, above her hip sat a clear scar that trailed from around the curve of her side, up towards her rib cage, where it stopped. It was still there, so she must still be Carly. She watched her hand, mesmerized as it rose up to her cheek, fingers peddling against the flesh. The same flesh that can withstand anything that came its way, but it still felt soft, like Carly. The fingers slid up and over through her hair, where her lips parted and she could feel the oily strands between her fingers. She felt the tears blossom in her eyes, where oddly enough she still feel the heat in them from the heat vision. How can someone be a human one day, ever so vulnerable, then be an indestructible hero the next? She placed her hands on her waist now, taut beneath her fingers and she stared at her reflection again. She couldn't even look, the pose didn't make her feel any better or greater. It made her feel like a stranger. 

   In the reflection she saw her acoustic guitar, the solid black giving her some solace in these trying times. She stepped over to it, almost subconsciously, and picked up the neck. She settled herself down onto the edge of the bed, propping the guitar on her lap. Perhaps a somber tune would ease her mind, but before strumming at the strings her attention locked on something else. She caught sight of the wall beside her bed, it couldn't have gone unnoticed, it was a masterpiece of her own design. The sight of a thousand sticky notes and strung up pictures that she had painted, sketches that she had drawn. She mindlessly placed her guitar down beside her on the bed and stood, feet taking her to a single sketch that she had made so long ago. It was of Homelander.

   At the time she criticized herself; the nose was too crooked, or the eyes just weren't all too great, but no, the sketch was the perfect image of him. She remembered the pencil taking over her that day, and she didn't really know what drove her to sit down and crank out his image. Of all the things she had drawn, Homelander was certainly the most elaborated sketch. The way she traced his jawline, the crisps of his hair, the subtle tiredness in his eyes, did he-they even feel exhaustion? She didn't feel exhausted right now, was that another post-compound quality? 

    She closed her eyes, and honed into the silence, giving herself a moment to enjoy this peace while it lasted. Then something happened all too soon, she found herself unprepared for it. She could hear voices, the honking of cars, the breathing, the heartbeats, the wind, it was like in the hospital that morning. Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression turned fierce. She couldn't even enjoy silence, not without hearing everybody else. She huffed out her agitation, then stormed towards the small bathroom, where maybe the water could do her some good. 

   It was a thin bathroom, and very cluttered, cluttered with an array of hair products, makeup, perfumes, and lotions. There was no bath tub, much to her distaste when she originally got the apartment. The thin brick that separated the floor and the shower tile was all that kept water from leaking everywhere. The curtain was an off blue, that matched the navy bath mat she had put down. She finally removed her underwear, tossing it into the hamper with her other clothes. She didn't waste any time, finding herself under the rusty shower faucet and turning the lever over. She made the water as hot as possible, knowing that too hot was no problem for her now, and also that she needed that steam and that warm embrace. 

   She sat under the water, feeling it trickle down over her, her blonde strands soaking and sticking to her skin. She enjoyed the stream as it caressed her back massaged her, allowed herself to be engulfed in its blissful touch. She moaned out her approval and settled her forearms against the wall above her, resting her forehead on them. This felt nice, after a second of relaxing under the water she was already feeling calm. She controlled her breathing, trying to find that meditative state that would allow her to just... Not think. Even when there was so much to think about, so much coursing through her mind. And Allen? She had tried not to think about him, about how he died. She wished he hadn't, she wished none of this would have happened, she should have listened to his warnings. What soared through her mind regarding last night made her feel disgusted in herself. She had done some horrific things and she was sure the things she couldn't remember were probably worse. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Where was that coming from?! What was that?!

Knock! Kno- 

THE DOOR!

   Carly felt her breath catch, she jumped out of the shower, part of the tile cracking under her as she went. She snatched her bathrobe of the hanger on the door, the door ripped off its hinges from the force. 

“Fuck me.” She ground out, but kept moving anyways. Her toes left puddles of water after her as she threw on the silk white fabric. She jogged into the living room, Homelander was calmly sitting on the couch, arm splayed out over its rest, the news on full blast. 

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Homelander asked plainly and she ignored him as she tied her robe and answered the door, cracking it and peaking her head out. 

"Billy?" She breathed out, fighting the urge to swing the door open and hug him. His eyes furrowed in confusion at the sight of her, wet hair, flushed cheeks, a bath robe?

"Carly, what the bloody fuck?! I thought you were in the hospital?" She shot her eyes over her shoulder at Homelander, who was glaring at her, unsure of her next move, but she went anyways. She exited her apartment, closing the door behind her. Billy staring at her with this crazed, flustered look in his eyes. She was fine, intact, critical condition, his ass?!

"Billy, this is a bad time." She stated, and his expression turned more into concern. He stepped closer and she stepped back, she was so afraid of touching him. One wrong move and she could kill him, with no control over her powers, this was a bad idea. Billy's expression hardened and he flung his hands up in the air.

"Carls, are you okay?! What happened?!" She noticed the flowers, and a part of her wanted to just hug him, hug him so bad. She needed a good hug, from someone, anyone. Billy would probably give the best hugs. He was such a burly guy and during their talks in the elevator she could smell the scent of him: a mix between cigarettes and cheap cologne.

"Are those for me?" She crooned, he had forgotten about the flowers, still shocked that she was even standing before him. He held the flowers up with a snort, perhaps to lighten his own frustration over the situation. 

"Yeah, I went to the hospital to go find ya' and you were fuckin' gone..." She opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going, gesturing to her front door. "Then I come 'ere, and hear your TV on, thought some bloody shitfaced rocker had taken up your apartment."

"Oh, yeah..." She was at a loss for words, how do you explain to someone that you are dangerous? That you are a supe now? Especially after making a show against superheroes. 

"And then, I heard that Homelander came to see ya'?!" He said, his tone filled with disbelief. "I go to your room and it was absolutely trashed! I thought you were dead!"

"Billy, I-"

"What? It's alright, you can tell me. I am here for ya'." His lips quirked up slightly, despite his frustration, she looked under extreme distress. She needed someone to comfort her, not berate her. He'd never seen her so torn apart, and it really did hurt him to see her like this. This was far worse than going to visit a burn victim, much like he had originally expected, she was far worse than that.

"Billy..." Her voice shaky, and her lip wobbled as if she was about to cry. He stepped close again, she didn't move, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Carly, I have never seen you like this before. You have to talk to me?"

"It's okay, I-I am fine." She held her hand out for the flowers, he hesitantly handed them to her, then gave her some distance. Still reeling in confusion and concern, he watched her usher herself through the door.

"Hey?" He said, she paused in the doorway, unable to meet his stare. "I just want ya' to know, I am..." He cleared his throat. "Always here for ya, alright? Us ugly faces got to stick together." She smiled sadly and nodded her head. 

"I will remember that. Thank you...” She gulped, “For everything." He gave her a curt nod as she disappeared behind the door. She held the flowers in her hand, staring at the wood blankly. She exhaled a trembling breath, and then slowly turned to Homelander. He was standing, hard glare on his face, arms crossed, about to reprimand her. 

“Now what the fuc-” She dropped the flowers and rushed towards him, her arms snaking around his sides and his hands flew up in surprise. He could feel all of her against, the thin material of the bath robe shielded nothing as her form sculpted so perfectly with his own. He had to admit. He had been watching her earlier, every step, every movement, threw him in a daze. She was perfect. He knew she would be. He could feel her body’s closeness start to have an effect on him and he was worried she would notice. "C-Carly..." He protested in a hushed whispered, she pressed her body into him even further, hugging him as hard as she could. He would have gasped if it hadn’t been for him biting his lip and clutching his gloves so firmly. His own arms soon wrapped around her, returning the embrace, although awkwardly. 

She just needed a hug, and Homelander was the only person she could give one too.

[princelestatdelioncourt]

Character Name

The Innamorati (Lovers Class)

(The characters of Isabella, Lelio, Flavio and Vittoria are all part      of the Innamorati.  However since there are so many more      Commedia dell'arte characters that are part of this same class that are      not fully developed by Commedia dell'Carte, we gave them their own "catch      all" page to include research on this vital class of commedia characters      that may not be specific to the four characters listed above.  If you      are seeking general information on the Innamorati, but sure to      consult the web pages of the afore mentioned characters as well.)      

In Italian, the Lovers (of whom four-two would-be pairs - are      usually needed for a full scenario) are called innamorati.        The males have names such as Silvio, Fabrizio, Aurelio, Orazio, Ottavio,      Ortensio, Lelio, Leandro, Cinzio, Florindo, Lindoro, etc.;  the      females:  Isabella, Angelica, Eularia, Flaminia, Vittoria, Silvia, Lavinia, Ortensia, Aurelia, etc.  - Rudlin      

Whether their names are Flavio, Ottavio, Orazio, Silvio, Leandro or      Cinthio del Sole; Federigo, Lelio, Mario, or Fulvio - all reveal a fatal      trace of fatuity. - Duchartre

Status    

High, but brought low by the hopelessness of their infatuation.      -Rudlin

Costume

The latest fashion.  Males sometimes dressed as young soldiers      or cadets.  Wigs.  Actresses would show off their wardrobe in      the better companies by changing costume several times during the course      of the action. -Rudlin

They had no particular costume, but dressed in the latest fashion of      the period to which they belonged. - Duchartre      

Wore stunning silk dresses, often in antique Renaissance style with      necklaces of gold and pearls. - Gordon      

Gentry-class dress, nice looking, modest, cute.  Usually with a      heart motif  -Little

Origin (History) 

The aristocracy of the Italian Renaissance courts amused themselves      with a form they called commedia erudita based on the plays of      Terence and Plautus, for example Calandria by Cardinal Bibbiena      which, like Shakespeare's later Comedy of Errors, is based on      Plautus' Menaechmi.  As the professional improvised comedy      looked to extend its range it seemed to have borrowed the Lovers from the      amateur form.  - Rudlin

The most prominent Isabella, Isabella Andreini, belonged to the      troupe of Gelosi. - Laver

Physical Appearance

Had to be young, well set up, courteous, gallant even to the point      of affectation - in short, a blade and a dandy.  - Duchartre

Young and attractive – Rudlin      

The lovers and wooers of the Commedia dell'arte were always dapper      and engaging and just a trifle ridiculous. - Duchartre

Mask

No actual mask, but heavy make-up.  Mascara and beauty spots      for both sexes.  The make-up in fact becomes a mask enabling      performers to play the role well into middle age, or even beyond - Giovan      Battista Andreini, son of Francesco, played Lelio until he was 73.        Vizard or loup could be worn for disguise, usually made of black      velvet.  This was a normal accoutrement for society ladies when      walking to a rendezvous and could be half- or full-face.  But since      it has not expression it does not count as a mask in the Commedia sense,      although it does provide plenty of plot potential, enabling, for example,      Columbina to attend rendezvous in her mistress's place.  - Rudlin      

Occasionally wore a mask that just covered eyes or a loop mask. -      Laver

Signature Props  

 Handkerchief.  Posy.  Fan for women.    -Rudlin

Stance

They lack firm contact with the earth.  Feet invariably in      ballet positions, creating an inverted cone.  Chest and heart      heavy.  They are full of breath, but then take little pants on      top.  Sometimes when situations become too much for them, they      deflate totally.  – Rudlin

Always very proud.

Walk   

They do not walk as much as tweeter, due to the instability of      their base.  First the head leans the other way to the body      sway.  Then the arms have to be used, one above the other, as a      counterweight.  -Rudlin

Poses

Various depending on individual character.

  Movements

Actors would use the same dancing masters as the well-to-do whom      they were parodying in order to point up the ridiculousness of exaggerated      deportment.  Movement comes at the point of overbalance leading to a      sideways rush towards a new focus, with the arms left trailing      behind.  Stop at the new point (usually the beloved or some token      thereof) before (almost) touching it.  The Lovers have little or no      physical contact.  When there is any, the minimum has maximum      effect.  - Rudlin

Exaggerated movements of the hands, like feathers flapping in the      wind.  -Fletcher

Gestures

Often while holding a handkerchief or flower, etc. in the leading      hand.  The arms never make identical shapes.  Because of their      vanity, they frequently look in a hand mirror, only to become upset by any      minor imperfection which is discovered.  Even in extremis they are      always looking to see if a ribbon or a sequin is out of place.  A      button found on the floor or a blemish in the coiffure equals        disaster. - Rudlin

 Speech Language 

Tuscan, making great display of courtly words and      baroque metaphors.  Well read, knowing large extracts of poems by      heart (especially Petrarch).  They speak softly in musical sentences      - in contrast with the zanni.  Their sentences are often      flamboyant, hyperbolical, full of amorous rhetoric.  By the end of      the 17th Century in Paris, the Lovers spoke French.  -  Rudlin

Animal      

Various depending on individual character.

Relationships

They relate exclusively to themselves - they are in love with      themselves being in love.  The last person they actually relate to in      the course of the action is often the beloved.  When they do meet      they have great difficulty in communicating with each other (usually      because of the nerves).  And they relate to their servants only in      terms of pleading for help.  The Lovers love each other, yet are more      preoccupied with being seen as lovers, undergoing all the hardships of      being in such a plight, than with actual fulfilment.  Consequently      they frequently scorn each other and feign mild hatred; they rebut,      despair, reconcile, but eventually end up marrying in the way of true love      when the game is up and they know they cannot play any more.  After a      quarrel the male may try a serenade to win back favour.  This will be      (dis)organized by Zanni:  he employs musicians who are drunk or      spends the money on something else and has tu use tramps off the      street.  The result is total chaos, but in the end the serenade is      beautifully played and sung because everyone miraculously turns out to be      good at their job after all.  - Rudlin

Relationship to Audience

Extremely aware of being watched. Play with the audience for      sympathy in their plight. Occasionally flirts with spectators.    -Rudlin

Frequent Plot Function

Indispensable.  Without them and their inability to resolve      their own problems, there would be no function for the zanni, no      struggle between the ineffectuality of youth and the implacability of      age.  The lovers are never alone on stage - they always have someone      with them or spying on them. - Ruldin

Their function was to depict a state of mind rather than to paint a      personality.  - Duchartre

Characteristics        

Thought their protestations would melt a heart of stone, there      always seems to be a comic side to everything they say.  One wonders      if the explanation does not lie in the fact that love often robs the lover      of all sense of his or her own absurdity, even though he or she may be the      most rational of living men or women under ordinary      circumstances.

Whatever the names of the lovers in the commedia dell'arte, they had      no other trait as 'characters' than that of being in love. - Duchartre      

Three, like primary  colors:  fidelity, jealously and      fickleness.  They are vain, petuluant, spoilt, full of doubt and have      very little patience.  They have a masochistic enjoyment of enforced      seperation because it enables them to dramatize their situation, lament,      moan, send messages, etc.  When the Lovers do meet they are almost      always tongue-tied and need interpreters (i.e. a zanni and/or a servetta)      who proceed to misinterpret their statements, either through stupidity      (Zanni), malicious desire for revenge (Brighella) or calculated      self-interest (Columbina).  Their attention span is short like young      children’s.  The fear that they might be nobodies keeps them      hyper-animated.  Their element is water:  they are very wet      creatures indeed.  The females are more passion-wrought and energetic      than their male counterparts.      

The lovers exist very much in their own world- and in their own      world within that world.  Self-obsessed and very selfish, they are      more interested in what they are saying themselves and how it sounds than      in what the beloved is saying.  They are primarily in love with      themselves, secondarily in love with love, and only consequentially in      love with the beloved.  What they learn, if anything, from the      tribulations of the scenario is the need to reverse these priorities.      

They do, however, come off better than most other Commedia      characters:  there is no viciousness in them, and less to be      reproached for – except vanity and vapidness, which, given their parents,      they can hardly be blamed for.  They represent the human portential      for happiness.  – Rudlin      

The lover had to play with dash and be able to simulate the most      exaggerated passion.  - Duchartre      

“If then true lovers have ever been crossed It stands as an edict in destiny. Then let us teach our trial patience,       Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears – poor fancy’s followers.”

Shakespeare