hello vonnie
ojovivo
noise dept.
Product Placement
RMH
cherry valley forever
if i look back, i am lost
Not today Justin
🪼
titsay
wallacepolsom
No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
izzy's playlists!
$LAYYYTER
occasionally subtle
Origami Around
Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second
Keni
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
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seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
@thecstripaddict
I started reading this all the way through today from the beginning (as opposed to out of order) and while I’ve heard people talk a lot of crap, I’m enjoying it. The idea is different, I’ll admit, but I appreciate the take. Aside from the writing, the artwork is some of my favorite.
Only a few more days of school and I’ll be a graduate. And a legal adult. *pats myself on the back* Not really. But cheers to us, the 2020 graduates. Even the late ones.
I was writing ealier and a line came to me that I want to be given all credit for if it ever blows up. Which is doubtful but still. Here goes.
Be the rain drop that overflowed the ocean.
Not horrible, right?
Oh my Graysons. I finally got a Pinterest and I’m officially addicted. In other news I have twelve days left of school and then I’m a free lady. I’m looking forward to posting more often then. And if you happen to think of any, send me questions! My ask-me-anything box is always open.
Okay I just want to put this out there. But if Dick Grayson and Jason Todd had a love child? Yeah, he’d be my husband. Just calling dibs now.
I swear, this song gets stuck in my head almost every day...
August 14, 2020- Friday
Finallyyyyyy, it’s Friday! Today I just wanted to share the best title I read this week. This was a surprisingly hard decision but after a careful analysi (jk I wasn’t so technical), I decided on....
If you have not yet had the opportunity to read this entire arc, I highly recommend it. Have a great weekend!
Dick: Do blind people see their dreams?
Tim: Do deaf people hear their thoughts?
Jason: Do you two ever shut the fuck up?
August 12, 2020- Wednesday
Thus far I haven’t stuck with my posting schedule at alllll. I keep saying I’ll get to it, and I will. Eventually. I started a Wattpad up and I only have one chapter posted, but I’ll be uploading another one tomorrow.
My Wattpad is: whenidiecallmelovely
I’d love for you to check it out but until then, here’s chapter 1 of my novel.
CHAPTER ONE:
The night was warm, the still air thick with smog. And even though it was now officially September, the heat would remain for at least another week or two. No light illuminated the street, and the sun had set hours ago, giving way to a dark quiet evening. We jogged along in a comfortable silence, content just to finally be spending some time together. Since Royal started his college classes he hardly ever has free time, which means I rarely see my brother any more.
"How's Diego?" Royal asks, lips curved into a smirk.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I pant, struggling to keep my tone even.
"You little liar. I heard all about it from-"
"No!" I gasp. "That little twit. Micah told you?"
"No. But now I'm going to beat the crap out of him for not mentioning it," he laughs.
Realizing I walked right into his trap I pull up short and lean forward panting.
"Dang you Royal. Sometimes I hate you."
"No you don't. Now hurry up or you'll ruin my time."
I start running again rolling my eyes and shove him when I catch up.
"We're not dating though."
"Good."
I huff, pretending to be annoyed but really, inside, I'm thrilled he cares so much. He always does. He's the only one. A few minutes pass in silence before I speak up again.
"Thanks."
"No problem kid."
No grand words were ever spoken by my brother. But his actions say volumes. It is something admire about him.
"Love you too dweeb," I mumble with a snicker.
The street begins to curve out of sight and I fall back a pace letting Royal lead. A faint sound behind us catches my brother's attention but I ignore it.
"Aster-" is all he says before lunging and roughly shoving me into the brush bordering the street.
Then I see the car. Never slowing, as my brother tries to move. One misstep to his left and the metal collides with flesh. Seventy miles is a conservative guess, and as amazing as the human body is, it is not meant to withstand a collision with two tons of glass and metal. His body flies through the air, achieving almost impressive height and distance. The squeal of protesting brakes echos through the silent air as his body finally gives way to gravity and crashes back to earth.
The crunch of bones is unmistakable. And even if he survived impact, the injuries he just sustained will kill him by morning. Blood leaks slowly and then picks up, pooling on the ground around him as the woman exits the vehicle calling out to him. Calling out as though he could have survived. Calling out as though she didn't just kill him. Fumbling, body shaky with panic nearing hysteria, she reaches for her phone. Moves out of habit to unlock it, presses the wrong digit, tries again. Finally, able, her fingers push 911, as the only person within a mile walks out his business across the street. He shouts a question, but is met with no answer. The emergency is relayed but even the best of efforts are pointless. One look at the my brother's broken body and you just know: he's dead.
And where am I? Still crumpled in the brush which lies twisted beneath my body. I can't tear my eyes away from Royal. There's a lot of blood. I see something else in the shadows; I don't want to acknowledge what. The woman screams at me but I don't hear her words. I just stare at the cement and wonder how long the stain will last. Wonder if anyone will see it and ask themselves what happened.
He saved me. The thought finally emerges out of the chaos and then I feel everything. The brief chilling cold of shock is gone and I'm painfully aware of every detail.
"No," I whisper. "No no no."
Five minutes ago life as okay, good even. Now-
I struggle to get to my feet, oblivious to the small cuts littering my skin. Turning I take in to woman who just murdered my best friend. She is older, around sixty of I had to guess, maybe older. She's restless, mumbling to herself but she avoids looking at what she did. Avoids acknowledging what she did. She won't give my brother respect.
***
I don't know how much time has passed. A week, maybe two, it doesn't matter anyway. He's still gone. The church is packed full, family and close friends seated in the front, school acquaintances in the back. I hover, just barely inside the room, observing. There is not one dry eye. And then my gaze lands on my grandparents.
How dare they come. How dare they sit there and weep as though they ever had a nice thing to say about him. How dare they pretend. The image although graphic, is necessary. Accusations fly from my mouth, whispered remarks directed at my blood and kin. Not a single one is coherent but that doesn't stop me. The truth is the guilt is eating me alive. I should be dead, not Royal. Out of the two of us, I deserved it.
And these are the thoughts that prompt my tears. Once they begin, I cannot stop them. I grab a tissue from the table next to me. One single tissue, to dry up an ocean of tears. So, I prioritize and wipe the snot from my face, leaving the tears to dry in salty stained tracks on my skin. I'm not ashamed to cry for him. He was a good man, not without his faults, but good.
Just before the venomous anger pierces my heart, I feel empty. And as wrong as it is, I would rather feel anger than empty. So, I settle on the anger and let it boil. Not a dull simmer, but a rolling boil, until it overflows and my nostrils flare and I want to hurt someone. No not just someone, but her. The one responsible for my pain and anguish. If she felt what I felt, she would know to be sorry.
My mother insisted that of course she was sorry. Any decent person would be. And besides she has to live with the guilt for the rest of her life; perhaps that is punishment enough. I agree, in part, but what decent person does something like this? We've all driven too fast, my mother placated. My response that, yes, but you've never killed anyone did nothing to sway her. Every action has consequences, she reminded me, even if at the time you are not sure what they may be.
I mulled over this, in a dim and biased light for several minutes before deciding, fine, she's right. But I was still mad. Still hurt. The ceremony finally moved out to the cemetery. A slight breeze ruffled everyone's hair as I mumbled along to the Lord's Prayer. The words failed me and my heart seized.
This is so freaking wrong. It'll always be wrong now.
I watched, disgusted, as my grandparents slipped Mom some cash. Guilt money. Because now they can never apologize. Not that they ever really planned to before. Eventually we begin to leave, but I am irritable and forlorn still. For my supposed friends I tried to smile and laugh, but my despair rots my insides.
I can't feel any reassurance. I feel quite simply, like I screwed something up. Missed a divine opportunity. Some sort of malpractice in the field of being human.
I had assumed he would be a permanent fixture in my life. Compulsively I grab my phone and pull up the article. An aerial picture of the road and there's the blood. I stare and then close the window. Letting out a shaky breath I slip my phone back into my pocket and step away from the mass of people.
"Aster."
I tense at Diego's voice and turn slowly.
"What?"
I don't apologize for my sharp tone. I'm tired of apologizing. I don't care if he deserves it or not.
"I'm sorry I-"
"Sorry doesn't do crap, Diego. Sorry doesn't bring him back."
He looks hurt. How dare he. Does he not know how I feel. The anguish. I want him -I want everyone- to feel my pain. I want them to revel in it and feel the all consuming hatred. I want them to die carrying the weight of it all.
"Sorry isn't enough. Because I'm sorry too."
Evidently I'll always be sorry. Aster, the sorry excuse of a human.
August 12, 2020- Wednesday
“You sold us out, Clark. You gave them the power that should have been ours. Just like your parents taught you. My parents taught me a different lesson... lying on this street... shaking in deep shock... dying for no reason at all. They showed me that the world only makes sense when you force it to.“
- Batman in Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (Frank Miller)
Tuesday- August 11, 2020
Batman: The Long Halloween is a personal favorite. For me, it stands strong as one of the top Batman stories told. Some disagree, and that’s fine, but even then surely you must agree that it has a few redeeming qualities. I admire Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s work and while it may not be the greatest to ever grace the industry, they are a good team.
When I was reading The Long Halloween for the first time, this page made me laugh. The fact that Batman says, “It’s not a toy,” as though that means anything to Selina. And I imagine this long pause as Batman waits for Selina to accept what he's just said. “Bruce Wayne is... a friend.” I bet she totally wanted to call him on that BS. Because c’mon, it’s Catwoman. We all know she knows.
Anyway, if you haven’t read Batman: The Long Halloween, you really should. And if you’re interested in seeing this work dissected and picked apart, check out this article.
In the introduction to The Long Halloween, director Christopher Nolan says, “The Long Halloween is more than a comic book. It’s an epic trag
Bruce Wayne: You should be ashamed of yourself.
Jason Todd: You're right. I should be ashamed of myself.
Jason Todd: But I never am.
This costume definitely needs to be fixed...
Words of wisdom from Tamaran’s very own Princess Koriand'r. She said this to Jason Todd shortly after they met, in Red Hood and the Outlaws Volume 1, Redemption. Starfire provides an important perspective to the Outlaws and personally I don’t think the team would work without her. Without Kori there may not even be a team...
So I’ve been thinking about the direction I’d like to take my blog and it’s still fairly up in the air but I’ve really enjoyed sharing comic related posts. So I’ve made a random outline of a post routine that I’m hoping to stick with.
Monday: Comic post: what I’m reading this week. Writing prompt.
Tuesday: Comic post: closer look at a page/panel I like. Music suggestions.
Wednesday: Comic post: quotes from heroes, villains and everything in between. Ask me anything answer day. (Start asking me some questions!)
Thursday: Comic post: character overview day. Fandom day.
Friday: Comic post: best title of the week. Request day. (Hit me up with something to post about or a fan fic.)
Saturday: Comic post: hit me with some suggestions to read. Week in overview.
Sunday: Comic post: random. Random.
Currently, this is one of my favorite things ever, for obvious reasons. And I really love the breakdown in the article below. Complex relationships are part of the appeal of comic books for a lot of us I think; seeing how characters we like interact with each other. They may not always pan out how we hope but they are hella fun to watch unfold.
In comics, characters are often thrown together and forced to coexist. It provides the chance for some fun interactions, as the characters n
Batman to Damian Wayne in Son of Batman. One thing I love about the Dark Knight is his moral code; that standards he sets for himself. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing him get close to the line, because I do. But Batman keeps his center. I totally think we can all admire that.
Jason- Red Hood acknowledging that they are indeed a team made me a very happy girl. And Kori, ever there to comfort and support, because that’s just her. But Roy being such a dude about it. I love the dynamic these three have.
