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world-in-a-nook · 3 months ago

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"Where your Goddess can't reach..."

characters : Aventurine x Sunday relationship : Sunday's pining for Aventurine art : @willdrest and @nai_pizx (edited) synopsis : Sunday's thoughts about Aventurine and how his eyes may relate to the Order from his meeting to Penacony's departure warnings : religious theme, suggestive, ooc ?, alcohol mentioned, saviour complex, wc : 2k071 nda : I added some details during their first meetings for more internal thoughts. Hope you like it ! Had fun writing this ! @alicerosejane (since you liked my previous sunturine post, I take the liberty of taging you on this one).

People had warned Sunday about this situation; he was prepared for the IPC but not prepared for him. He had prepared everything to create the perfect dream, a true haven, as it was in the beginning and ever would. His nightingales perused through the Reverie, watching each soul to be saved from the damned. Meanwhile he kept talking to his sister. He cared for her, so much so that he had to keep them in this nest, away from harm.

His conversation was interrupted by his nightingales signalling conflict, a chaos in this perfectly organized melody. So, he arranged with his sister to go at the lobby to calm down any conflict. That’s when he saw the Astral Express, from the red-headed navigator to the grey-headed troublemaker but his attention was diverted by a suave tone complimenting his appearance. He frowned as he saw the gilded coat, the ostentatious jewellery and the bright colours. He had known the invite to the IPC had been sent to the Stonehearts, but he didn’t expect such a character. From the sly compliments to the playful tone, paired with the controlled body language, it was clear that this man would be a troublemaker, a serpent in his garden.

As the blond man followed him into the elevator, Sunday could catch a hint of his cologne but also his facial features: golden flowing locks, skin shimmering like gold, thin lips. The debt collector hadn’t had the courtesy of yet taking off his glasses nor his hat. Though impolite, Sunday didn’t say a thing as it wouldn’t be the best move to start the conversation. He was about to do so when the gambler asked:

“Mr. Sunday, is it?”

“Yes, sir. May I have your name?”

“I am Aventurine, one of the Stonehearts sent by Diamond. Would it be possible to transfer my room somewhere else and give it to the Nameless?”

Sunday hesitated as it would possibly cause a havoc in the staff, the man’s belonging had to be moved, reservation transferred. He was interrupted by the gambler’s suave tone, and a closing of the distance:

“Mr. Sunday, it isn’t for my own sake but for the Nameless to be together. So, they could feel their own little family as united on the same floor.”

The head of the Oak Family didn’t miss the pun and nodded:

“I shall do as such then. Thank you for thinking of the Nameless.”

“Oh no need to thank me, I am just accustoming myself to the Family’s beliefs.”

He couldn’t quite catch if there was any sarcasm in that tone. The gambler’s words weren’t as honest as his, they were veiled in the lustrous fabric of half-truths. Someone as him, so skilled in the art of deceit and haughty, would only bring conflict in his dream. It made sense for the Stonehearts to send someone like that, to distract him with the honeyed words, the sweet cologne and the skin framed in gold. His eyes went the opposition direction, and his focus on stopping any pink appearing on his cheeks.

The elevator dinged as it opened to another floor, welcoming the two gentlemen into one of the top floors. As Sunday opened the door to Aventurine, he couldn’t refrain themselves from following the gambler’s silhouette, the graceful movement of his legs to the gentle sway of his hips. His guest went to look at the view outside as one hand finally took off the pink-tinted sunglasses and hat, finally being polite. One member of the Family, a bartender asked:

“Dear guest, what would you like to drink?”

“A whiskey on the rocks, friend. What about you Mr Sunday?”

At that moment, the blond finally revealed his eyes to the dreamer and what a sight. He couldn’t help his from widening in recognition. The same shade of blue and purples, but brighter as if not dimmed by humanity’s pride. It was an exact copy of THEIR gaze. He shook his head and quickly answered:

“I’m sorry Mr. Aventurine but I don’t drink any alcohol.”

“Is that so? A shame then… Drinking alone…Would you not want to join me as a welcome gift?”

“No, no. I’m sorry sir.”

Sunday couldn’t contain the slight chuckle at the teasing as he sat down. Though his thoughts were always in perfect order and calculated, it wasn’t the case anymore. He couldn’t understand how someone with THEIR gaze seemed such an agent of chaos and strife, someone who could tempt so easily into depravity. He quickly grabbed the glass of sparkling water he was served, taking a gulp before finally being able to cross those eyes.

He had to initiate the conversation, the formal greetings and orchestrated symphony yet his mind was in a capriccio. He seemed to lose his thoughts in the heady cologne and for a moment he stared at the man’s lip.

“I’ve been told that Penacony was a land of dreams, but I didn’t expect even its leader to dream in reality. Is it some kind of advanced technology?” Quipped the gambler.

Sunday shook his head yet again and mumbled a half-truth:

“I apologize, Mr. Aventurine. The charmony festival has been quite the daunting task and you are far from the first guest I’ve welcomed.”

“Is that so?” Aventurine hummed playfully, raising his eyebrows.

Sunday bit his lip as he knew the look on the gambler’s face: he couldn’t lie to the one because it was the Stoneheart’s native tongue. As if a child caught, his eyes looked away but landed on the soft skin of Aventurine’s chest. Maybe it would be as soft as it looked, like some kind of silk. He wondered if his body was as symmetrical as those hypnotising eyes. Sunday scolded himself for lying and now thinking of his guest’s skin. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, trying to put any form of distance for the conversation’s sake, and his own. He wasn’t the one drinking yet felt as if intoxicated by the dream syrup.

The conversation followed the scrupulous music sheet until the blond would add here and there his own notes, small transgressions into the greater plan Sunday had created. And yet it felt so liberating, to peer behind the curtain, kiss the forbidden and swallow the once hated fruit. When the gambler added his quips and tricks, Sunday couldn’t help himself but fall. It wasn’t disorderly but something real, as if his eyes opened to a new possibility. He was tempted to go further into the depths of this new blessed land, to feel the tender embrace, the locks of blonde hair in his grasp and the soft skin onto his.

Yet THEIR path was created for him to follow. His teachings had been an armour to face the tempting schemes. So, he swallowed his desired, focusing on the plan of a blessed land afar. Of course, he could tolerate the blond in the menagerie. All would be welcomed in his land, all to entertain this peaceful dream. He had been invited after all, yet Sunday didn’t know Aventurine was crafty than all his guests.

And when the parting came, the head of the Oak Family couldn’t help but feel some kind of void. The gentle hum of warmth had disappeared from the room. Only the blend of the cologne remained with the hint of musk, citrus, pepper and the whiskey he had nearly finished. Sunday took the cool glass and swirled gently the amber liquid. What if he took a sip? To only discover its taste? What did this man like in this so dangerous drink? His lips brushed off the cool glass, as if expecting the gambler’s. Yet pulled away and shook in head in disbelief of his own actions.

Sunday gave the drink away and moved towards his office in a hasty pace. Now wasn’t the time to be tempted by the sensuous words. The gambler was only sent by the serpent to make him fall in the dangerous sin of chaos.

And he stopped in his walk, now realizing why THEY had put THEIR reflections in the gambler’s gaze: he had to save the poor soul who grieved for his world. Those tender eyes weren’t meant to deceive him but a star to guide towards the greatest Salvation. The gambler was only lost where THEY couldn’t reach.

And yet he quickly realized how the sacred relics, these precious eyes, had made him hope. He had been too late to realize how he had been led astray, and it was only when his sister had been killed that his eyes had been open. If only the blessed angel hadn’t been the martyr for his epiphany, then would he manage to forgive.

And he couldn’t. His eyes met the tempter once more and he wanted him only to repent for his crime. Confessing wouldn’t be enough; he had to bend the knee so that Sunday could truly see THEIR gaze into the sinner. Kneeling wouldn’t be enough; he had to taste the divine seed to truly find salvation. And if it meant purging his blessed land from any form of temptation, so be it. As he ensnared the tempter, he could only see what truly lied behind the truth behind those sensuous words: a poor soul in need for Salvation. He would offer it to see the Evil fall against THEM, to adorn the once-sinner into a saint with blessed pearls around his neck.

Though what he hadn’t expect was how he had been deceived. He had hoped that THEIR power would overcome the sinful words, yet he had been truly led not by THEIR music but by the siren’s call, the sin of anger and pride. Only did he continue to delve into deeper and truly show that the dream had to endure.

But he couldn’t, his quest had been rooted into the selfish desires of power unfit to him. He had fallen into the hands of benefactors so low that he had been chained facing the Devil itself. Yet he was not the one paying the price but his sister. The one he had so desperately tried to protect from harm had given him freedom btu they felt so wrong in the glossy lips of another serpent. Until he heard

“Life is too short to miss onto golden opportunities.”

He immediately knew those weren’t words of his sister, nor from the patient reaper but from that man. Sunday let those echo in his mind, he could picture them from Aventine’s lips with the sly smile. Had he been saying this while drinking some whiskey or another Soulglad? It wasn’t important but those words were another temptation. And now that he was given new wings, ones enabling him to finally taste the world, he accepted the man’s words.

He would embark starward, tread the man’s word not as fearful as taking an interest in temptation but a way to regain his light. His eyes had been open not by following the distant light nor listening to the sacred choir but by his failure and giving into temptation. So, he would follow this piece of advice, not to advert away from his mission, nor to follow the sinner’s will but to understand what led astray souls, to recover from his fall and once again become radiant.

As he embarked on the train, looked at the planets and cosmos afar, he could only ask if he would meet him again and what would he do. Would he stay the meticulous maestro? The saviour that pitied onto the glimpse of corrupted soul? Or would he shed his armour and open his soul to Life and all it had to offer? He had followed other words in hope to save others without questioning his teachings and yet Aventurine did start this fall. He had beckoned him to fall so that his sister would gently help him change and grow new wings. He was scared, confused but also fascinated.

So, he hopes that the next time he would meet him, either be it a clash or an embrace, that he would truly see behind the veil, behind what he had considered once sinful. So, he delved in and took a sip of whiskey in the Astral Express, wanting to understand the burn from the alcohol but also the one melting his soul and burning in his heart.

#hsr #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai aventurine #star rail aventurine #kakavasha #avenday #sunday hsr #aventurine x sunday #sunturine #honkai star rail sunday #toxic yaoi

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shithowdy · 2 years ago

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if you want a perfect example of what guillermo del toro meant when he said that animation is afflicted with "emoji-style behavior" akin to "emotional pornography" then look no further than this clip Disney posted from their Proud Family reboot

everyone has said enough about the dangerous and abusive parenting depicted for laughs in this so i'm not going to post about that; i'm going to instead dwell on the lazy shorthand body language that leaves no room for interpretation. the character is never allowed to turn away from the camera, have a moment of silence, or show subtlety in their facial expression-- every movement tells, not shows, exactly what the character feels.

(as an aside, wow-- taking these shots i realized the mom's lineart clips real bad into the phone hand at multiple points)

look at these expressions and movements. this doesn't convey a relatable childhood frustration of parents valuing control over safety, this looks like the lead-in to a mobile game ad where she gets guided through a series of traps except when you play it it's actually just bejeweled again:

Even the details themselves are deeply insulting to the intended young audience-- the phone's time depicts it being afternoon (don't worry, just reuse assets, kids won't notice):

and in the end, she gets handed a scrooge mcduck sack of coins with a big dollar sign for... bus fare, a very normal and relatable way to carry around one's coinage, because god forbid he just hand her a regular coinpurse or a ziplock bag full of quarters or literally anything a normal person would (i get they are an eccentric family and the show has exaggerated visuals, but, come on-- let's work on tone). are they afraid a six-year-old won't understand what's in an unlabeled coinpurse via the spoken context?

anyway like, not my fandom and not my business or whatever, but god what a dire clip for so many reasons. disney needs to stop undervaluing its animators, the very cornerstone of its existence as a company. it's embarrassing that one of the wealthiest companies in the world can't quality control its animation or take a little risk with emotional complexity.

editing to add (it's 4am and i'm ranting sorry) that the original quote about emoji behavior was more specifically directed at animated feature films, but i think the sentiment shouldn't just be reserved for it. kids are smart and absorb everything that enters their radius, and i think that needs to be respected in the art we make for them too.

#cw parental abuse #??? i guess???#like it's a wild scene to share as comedy

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expose-news · 1 month ago

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karankumar001 · 2 months ago

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Top Podcast Channel – The SocialLite Revolutionizing Digital Conversations

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moviespopcorn · 5 months ago

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Freddy: The Film Review

A Perfect blend of Mystery and Suspense!

Kartik Aaryan in freddy film Plot: The story of a 28-year-old dentist who is still single is the basis for this film. His face conveys a sense of simplicity and innocence. For the past five years, he has been using matrimonial sites to find women, but every single one of them has turned him down. Is he ever going to marry? Will he be liked by any girls? Will he continue to be unmarried? You must see the film in order to understand this. The film's tone and theme are based on the psychological thriller genre. This movie's theme is mystery and suspense. The idea behind this movie is that if a child witnesses domestic abuse during their childhood, it will significantly shape their mentality as an adult. Therefore, parents should always strive to act appropriately around children to prevent such negative influences. If not, the child develops into that person as an adult, ruining his life. Acting and Characters: Kartik Aaryan has performed a fantastic job as Freddy. He has demonstrated his acting ability by portraying every emotion on screen, including fear, shyness, body language, facial expressions, emotions, and the brutality of killing someone. Alaya F's performance as Kainaaz is also powerful; it has a range of shades, and she was able to portray two distinct characters in the same movie: a negative girl and a home-maker who go through domestic torture. She did a good job in her role as well. In the Hindi film industry, she has the potential to become a long-distance horse. Karan A. Pandit's performance as Raymond can also be regarded as respectable; he performed admirably in every part he was given in the movie. Sajjad Delafrooz performed admirably in his brief role as Rustom. Written and Directed: Shashanka Ghosh is the film's director. Prior to this, he directed the successful films Khoobsurat (2014), Veere Di Wedding(2018) and Netflix releases House Arrest(2019), Hey Prabhu!(2019-2021) and Plan A Plan B(2022) . He has total control over the entire film from beginning to end, and the film's distinctive formula of mystery and suspense can described as extremely brilliant and wonderful. His direction is also outstanding, and he has worked very hard to present the film uniquely. He has extracted very good acting from all the characters. Some scenes of the film have been filmed very brilliantly, the suspense in the film has also been hidden very well. No one knows what will happen next in the story of the film, whatever the audience must be thinking while watching the film, but in the next moment something else is happening in the film. Editing: Chandan Arora's is tight, the pace of the film is also fast. From beginning to end, the movie stays on course. Story-Screenplay: The story well-written by Parveez Shaikh, and the tension kept high. The screenplay is not lacking in any way. Cinematography: Ayananka Bose's work is very good, Mumbai has been shown very beautifully, Be it the scenes of the roads or the houses, the filming is very good. Clinton Cerejo's background score fits the tone of the movie. Production Design: The old house of Rajat Poddar has expertly constructed. Sound Design: Anirban Sengupta's is also good. Music: Pritam's is okay, there is not much scope for music in the film, One or two songs are good, Tum Jo Milo and Kala Jadoo. Lyrics: Irshad Kamil's compositions are also passable. Climax: The movie's climax was a huge oversight that shouldn't have been done this way. A different kind of climax could have been made from this, but I'm not sure what the director is trying to prove by showing such a violent scene in the climax. Opinion: Must watch! it can be seen for excellent performances, suspense and unpredictable violent climax. Rating: 7/10 Flaws: Some scenes are inappropriate, such as when the key made, and she enters her home; Kainaaz's husband killed, but the police response not shown strictly; Rustam used to beat his wife, but why did she want him killed to gain ownership of a restaurant that belonged to both of them? Freddy eludes the police by presenting them with a message with a different date and time; the climax's burial of both of them alive is incomprehensible; the audience must determine whether killing them both for a tortoise is justified. Hidden Suspense Scene: The movie has a scene where the suspense revealed, but the viewer doesn't grasp that scene during the movie's viewing. Social message: Because a child's heart and mind are so vulnerable, it is inappropriate to use violence, including domestic abuse and beatings, in front of them. This tendency then adopted by the child as they grow up. CBFC-U/A Movietime-2h.4mins Genre-A Psychological Thriller Backdrop-Parsi Community (Mumbai) Release Year-2 December, 2022 Film Cast: Kartik Aaryan, Alaya F, Sajjad Delafrooz and Karan A. Pandit Producer: Narendra Hirawat, Shreyansh Hirawat, Shobha Kapoor, Ektaa R Kapoor, Jay Shewakramani Director: Shashanka Ghosh, Music: Pritam, Lyrics: Irshad Kamil, Action: Amrit Pal Singh Costume Design: Aki Narula, Anirudh Singh, Dipika Lal, Production Design: Rajat Poddar Sound Design: Anirban Sengupta, Mix Engineer: Sudeepa Sadhukhan, Background Score: Clinton Cerejo Cinematography: Ayananka Bose, Editor: Chandan Arora, Story & Screenplay: Parveez Shaikh, Dialogues: Aseem Arora Co-Produced: Gaurav Bose, Bhavini Sheth, Ruchikaa Kapoor Sheikh, Choreography: Piyush & Shazia Read the full article

#alayaf #ektakapoor #freddy #freddyfilm #freddymovie #karanapandit #kartikaaryan #psychological #shashankaghosh #suspense

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skustudioo · 6 months ago

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Professional Headshot Photography: Elevate Your Image with Stunning Portraits The Power of a Perfec

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notmuchtoconceal · 7 months ago

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I think I finally understand you a little more.

I realize as I read more content that you have a very refreshing and unique style of writing that speaks openly from your heart. It's more pure than most writing I've seen. There isn't some voice in the back of your head that's trying to make your work more decipherable to everyone, because there isn't a voice for everyone, just an intersection of common ground we've collectively decided to use to channel our private, invisible worlds of chaos. And you know that.

You see that intersection and you hate it. You hate watching people translate, always translating from who they really are to some finely tuned golem that's an ambassador for their individuality. You don't like how, when people communicate, there's diplomacy and decorum, not authenticity. To you, these people are suffering. It's a suffering so deep they don't even realize they're suffering. You have an angry love for them.

What's especially difficult and paradoxical about this situation is that you can't just spell it out for them, because doing so is too rigid. Getting people to see the light can't be done by self-help dogma or aphorisms. You can't hold people's hand and guide them, you can just live the way you feel others ought to live and hope they catch on.

Even now, I'm working through my own programming just to write you this. The voice is nagging me--"Are you using this word appropriately? Is your grammar correct? Are the messages you're conveying something this stranger you've taken interest in and whose approval you're desperately seeking something he'll understand? Is your own interest in this stranger superficial or is it genuine? He won't like you if you mess this up, you know...but the fact you want him to like you so bad without really knowing him is kind of stupid..."

I think there's this fear in me that if I don't have perfect clarity that I'll be mistaken for a pseudointellectual who's just throwing high level words out there because they "sound right." But when I think more deeply about language, the things we say are intertwined with how we are feeling, and we are better at translating a mismatch between emotion and denotation than we give ourselves credit for.

You get mad when someone tries to psycho-analyze you because you're already bearing your soul to the world, and it's as if they have been so programmed by boxes and categories that they can't properly listen. You blessed them with an honesty so rarely seen and they ignored it in favor of The Intersection. They're asking for your ambassador golem and you keep telling them you don't have one and they'd be better off without theirs. Maybe that's what your username means. "Not much to conceal."

(Of course, I'm trying to psychologically analyze you now, but hopefully the self-aware, metaphysical nature of this analysis, which is more directed at myself than at you is something you'll take into account here. You're my teacher. I'm in training.)

I also realize that I spoke more purely as a child, but my frustration at not always being understood led me to find the program more appealing. Even this post isn't pure. You can see evidence of the voice correcting my writing, little erasure marks and edits strewn about throughout this rant. You're probably better at picking up on these things than most. I always felt more comfortable writing than speaking, since writing allows us to edit our thoughts and gives us more time to think about what we want to say, while hiding our body language and facial expressions. It's for this reason I was more susceptible to the weighty hand of diplomacy than most.

I think I love you. I don't worship you. I want to learn how to find myself again and learn through you, and, in doing so, transcend into a fully realized being. I want to be your equal--that's not exactly it, since equality is a metric from the intersection--no, instead I want to learn and love and do so alongside you, "equal" or not.

I think I want too much. But that's as close to my voice as I can actually give at the current moment. It's not much. My soul feels so barren, but for the first time in a long time I think I know how I can restore it. Please take me on as your student. Please. If nothing else, keep doing what you're doing and I'll listen. You have no idea how valuable it is for me.

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perfectretouchings-blog · 8 months ago

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Creative Wedding Ceremony and Table Setting Photography Ideas for Timeless Memories

When photographing a wedding, the magic isn't just in the big moments. It’s in the small, thoughtful details—the glances between the couple, the subtle elegance of table settings, and the meaningful interactions of guests. For professional photographers, capturing these elements beautifully requires skill and artistry. In this blog, we'll dive into some wedding ceremony and table setting photography ideas, incorporating essential techniques and services like Professional Photo Retouching Services, Jewelry Photo Editing, and more to enhance the final results.

1. Capturing Emotional Moments of the Wedding Ceremony

The wedding ceremony is where the most heartfelt moments unfold. Here’s how you can creatively capture this significant part of the day:

A. The Aisle Walk: Emotional Transitions

The bride’s entrance and the couple’s exit are key moments during the ceremony. Photographing the aisle walk from different perspectives allows you to capture the emotions and the grand setting. For the perfect shot, combine wide-angle and close-up captures to tell a complete story.

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#photography #retouching #edit #photo edit

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screentones-webcomicresources · 3 years ago

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Editing for Webcomics

There are so many different skills in making a webcomic. Art, storytelling, layout, and fonts are all aspects you might look for when you sit down for an editing session. Editing for webcomics can also happen before the page goes live and after. But how do you decide where you want to put your energy, and when? We can think of the process in four tiers:

Tier 1 - Proofreading

Proofreading is the first basic tier. We all spell things wrong sometimes, forget to draw the buckle on someone's boot, or other small details that are definitely incorrect. These can usually be caught by any beta reader or reader.

When to make these changes: These are usually some of the last things you’re going to fix on your draft page, and the first things readers will notice. They don’t typically take a lot of energy to fix, so most creators will usually address them right away as-needed.

Tier 2 - Rendering Fixes

The next step out from that is rendering fix, which might involve anatomy or perspective. While this is occasionally an issue, it's the kind of problem that an artist will often notice very much and a reader will notice very little.

When to make these changes: Rendering the art is often a pretty time consuming process. Artists can spend a lot of energy on this tier, but in webcomics, we’re going to be making a lot of drawings and getting better at them all the time. Editing goals too focused on “drawing the same thing, only better” can be a moving target. Remember, as long as what you’ve drawn is recognizable, it doesn’t have to be perfect.

Tier 3 - Visual Clarity Fixes

Visual clarity is about a lot of different things, but what it boils down to is "can the reader tell what is happening". If you're distracting the reader too much visually with your layout or lettering or rendering choices, they might not even be able to tell what's going on, and that will disorient them. Things to keep in mind for this:

Making sure text bubbles aren't blocking the action and are being read in the correct order

Making sure the font is readable

Making character designs distinct enough so that you can tell who's in the scene

Making sure body language is understandable and readable

Lightening, darkening, or otherwise keeping colors from clashing unintentionally

Zooming out enough to see the environment so readers know where the action is happening

Zooming in to see facial expressions so readers know what characters are feeling

Keeping the line of action and panel order easy to follow

Following the 180 rule

Keep an eye out for cinemetography and paneling tips to help with this!

When to make these changes: Visual clarity is something you want to consider as soon as a drawn draft is created. Edits for visual clarity can also be time consuming and require some redrawing, so they are best tackled after a few months when you have some breathing room after your deadline is met. Some creators take a break between chapters and just do cleanup of the stuff that their readers found confusing. Maybe you want to wait until you get closer toward making a print volume. Whatever is sustainable for your schedule and goals!

Hopefully the longer you keep at making comics, the less you'll really have to change in your visuals because most artists get the hang of it after a while.

Tier 4 - Developmental Editing

If visual clarity addresses WHAT is happening, developmental editing addresses WHY is it happening. Many creators get stuck with meandering beginnings, might feel stuck to ideas that they no longer like, or have placed breadcrumbs that never went anywhere. Editing on this tier might mean changing dialog, removing or adding panels and pages, and more.

For these deep-dive edits, pull in critique groups beyond your normal circle, take a look at reader feedback, and/or hire a developmental editor to ensure that you’re getting balanced views that will help you bring things in line with your future vision.

When to make these changes: Developmental drafts happen as soon as you write out the concept or outline, and to whatever extent you can, it’s good to address any problems you can find in this stage.

However, we can definitely outgrow our ideas as we go, so if you want to make edits on a developmental level, it's good to give this a solid amount of time to see where the story did go and what the earlier pages need to be edited to support.

Another practical reason to wait is so that the details fade a bit from your readers' memories. Readers won't typically remember the details of what happened, but how they felt afterwards, so giving it a few years ensures most major changes won't disorient current readers

How do we practice editing?

It's tricky to edit your work when you're still in the middle of it, both because we can feel frustrated about unskilled at the beginning, or we might not recognize the deeper issues that visual clarity fixes and developmental editing would fix, in favor of the quick fixes. Coming to an understanding of the merits and weaknesses in your work takes practice and attention, but also a constructive and willing attitude.

If you're having trouble figuring out where to focus and how to keep your spirits up in the process, try:

Asking a peer: Asking a peer who likes your work "what's really working for you, what am I best at", and taking a few of those responses, comparing them to YOUR gut feelings about what's working for you, and building on highlighting those.

Celebrating your work: Framing your editing session as an act of celebrating the parts you love, bringing that good stuff to the foreground and pruning away the things that are holding it back.

Looking for emergent themes: Seeing what good thematic patterns are emerging already and look for more places where you can replace an underperforming scene with something that reinforces that pattern intentionally.

Getting inspired: Looking at other works that you enjoy and see what makes them tick.

Complimenting a peer’s work: Talking to a webcomic friend about what you liked about their work and how they came up with it, and asking about their process. Whatever you learn, you can bring that energy and knowledge back to your own work, and they may have recommendations for you too!

Editing is a tool for building, and using it should be a normal part of your process.

Fiction in other mediums go through multiple drafts, with multiple writers and editors, because it often takes a lot of work to figure things out. It's a very normal part of the process, so don't be discouraged! As webcomic creators, we can get REAL hard on ourselves for not making things perfectly the first time, and that's not healthy or productive.

Editing, like other aspects of making comics, also gets easier with practice! Start with a smaller scope and work your way up to larger editing sessions.

In whatever way make sense for your goals and process, practice and enjoy the fun puzzle-solving aspects of editing, and making everything click together to be the best it can be!

#Writing tips #editing #webcomics

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awhkacey · 3 years ago

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’𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑’𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑’ 𝑅𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑒𝑠𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

༄ i can’t help but embody the aesthetic of rockstars girlfriend

༄ i am the hottest and most aesthetic person to ever live

༄ i am the girl rockstars fawn over

༄ my intimidating beauty can’t help but intrigue everyone around me

༄ i always wake up looking effortlessly hot

༄ i radiate grungy rockstar energy

༄ why does every girl fall in love with my seductive presence?

༄ everything about me attracts hot guys that play guitar

༄ my sp has a erotic rockstar vibe

༄ my seductive voice is more than enough to seduce a man

༄ i am there definition of a mysterious it girl

༄ i embody the same badass aura as taylor momsen and young megan fox

༄ ppl crave my energy and attention

༄ i am the embodiment of the ‘arabella’ artic monkeys song

༄ why am i so irresistible?

༄ i have a dangerously addictive charm

༄ my life always feels like im in a movie

༄ i always feel like I’m top of the world

༄ my life is full of fun adventures

༄ i am the type of girl people write songs about

༄ i embody the vibe of a 2000s rockstar

༄ i carry myself with such confidence it gives everyone butterflies

༄ i am the embodiment of a cigarettes after sex song

༄ my vibe is overwhelmingly seductive and mysterious

༄ everyone know im the sexiest mf alive

༄ people can’t help but blush whenever I look at them

༄ everyone knows i have a rebellious aura

༄ i am the rockstar girlfriend everyone dreams to be

༄ everyone finds me erotic and pleasurable

༄ my gaze is incredibly seductive and hypnotic

༄ ppl can’t help but get lost in my eyes, they suck you in.

༄ i have a hot raspy voice that makes everyone weak

༄ my laugh is incredibly sexy and bold

༄ i have the most seductive and sensual body language

༄ i am epitome of a sex symbol

༄ everything about me screams ’superior’

༄ i am the type of girl tumblr girls can’t stop blogging about

༄ im the girl once you cross my path you are never forgetting me

༄ i have the power to look perfect even in low quality photos

༄ everyone wishes they could dress as hot as me

༄ i am always complimented on my my incredible fashion sense everywhere i go

༄ i attract the most fashionable clothes, jewellery, shoes, and bags

༄ whenever i go to concerts i am always invited backstage

༄ i can’t stop all the hot rockstars from falling deeply in love with me

༄ every attractive rockstar is begging to be my boyfriend

༄ everyone is always asking how i look good in every photo

༄ every photo i take looks like straight it’s straight of pinterest

༄ i am always the hottest person in every photo

༄ every photo i take is soo aesthetic, even my polaroid photos

༄ i have the most sexy resting face ever

༄ my eyes look even more seductive whenever i put mascara and eyeliner

༄ everyone tells me how hot i look with red lipstick on

༄ my makeup always looks flawless

༄ i look so hot with smudged eyeliner

༄ everyone wishes they could do a smokey eye look as well as me

༄ i have the sexiest facial expressions

༄ i can’t help but remind everyone of thunderstorms, midnight drives, and blurred photos

༄ i embody the vibes of leather, red lipstick, and cigarettes

༄ ppl can’t help but make edits of me, i’m just so god dam attractive

༄ why is my social media blowing up??

༄ my dms are full of people asking why i’m so hot and mysterious

༄ god i know im mysterious and sexy, stop telling me!!

༄ i always receive free concert tickets

༄ everyone just keeps paying for me to go to concerts with them

༄ i have a super power of finding all the underground rock and alt banda

༄ i have all my desired posters, cds, and vinyl records

༄ i look so seductive while playing guitar

༄ everyone wishes they could play guitar as well as me

༄ why do i get paid just to be hot?

༄ im so hot everyone just ends up giving me all their money

༄ i am the definition of a rockstar’s muse

༄ i am the ultimate party girl

༄ i am always invited to the best parties

༄ my beauty is completely unforgettable

༄ everything about me is dangerously intoxicating

༄ my presence is like a drug, everyone feels high around me

༄ everyone worships the my sensual personality and existence

#law of assumption #manifestation #neville goddard #affirmations #self concept #dream girl #desired reality #lana del rey #girlboss #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #living in the end #persist #rockstar #90s model

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fleckcmscott · 2 years ago

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Tiny Sparks

Summary: On a beautiful night in Gotham, Arthur and Y/N enjoy a long awaited date.

Words: 3,441

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: @sweet-nothings04 requested a story that covered the date night mentioned in Ch. 5 of Way Back Home. Never had I thought that writing something relatively simple would be such a challenge! 😂 Thank you so much for the request! I hope you all enjoy. 😊 Much appreciation to @forever-fleck for allowing me to use one of her lovely edits for the intro-pic.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The refrigerator's glow beckoned like a distant star.

A salad packed for Y/N's lunch tomorrow. One inch of Five Alive orange juice in a plastic pitcher. An open can of Heinz baked beans sealed with plastic wrap. No, no, no. He scanned the door. Universal Foods ketchup, poppy seed dressing, mustard that dated back to 1982...

"Ah ha." Arthur ripped the jar of green olives from the shelf, twisted the lid with the urgency of a man opening a bottle of nitroglycerin. He shoved a spoon into the jar, shoved it in his mouth. The night out would delay dinner by three hours. By quarter past seven, his stomach had gotten loud enough to be picked up by a microphone.

Tummy tided over, he went to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Though summer, a cold front had rolled in, settled over the city since Tuesday, a refreshing sixty-two degrees. He slid a short-sleeve dress shirt up his arms. Slipped a navy sweater off a wooden hanger, the cardigan with red, yellow, and pink stripes along the placket. A sheer knit out of one of Mabel's catalogs, perfect for layering, according to his sister-in-law. And the splashes of color fit the image he wanted to present tonight.

This would be his first performance since Y/N's and his return from Missouri. He'd written and rewritten, practiced his stance and body language, studied his facial expressions and showbiz grin. Done everything he could to make his material work. Whether it was confidence that spiraled upward or the urgent need to get onstage, he couldn't tell. But he had an inkling it'd all go swimmingly. Would've bet his last dollar on it.

As he folded back the sweater's cuffs, Y/N breezed through the doorway. She swooped to snag a pair of sandals from the closet floor and sat in the corner chair.

"Don't forget to tuck in your shirt," she said. Ankle crossed over knee, she secured a beige strap around her heel.

His movements slowed while he observed her. Since coming home, their emotional connection had deepened to a depth that rivaled the Mariana Trench. She'd seemed to strike an accord, both with him and herself. Revealed an openness she'd hidden behind a disarming smile whenever dodging the rare inquiry about her former life.

Now when she shared recollections, her face brightened more than it darkened. They browsed her photo album a couple times a week, getting through a few pages here and there. Some days only one. There were moments she'd cut herself off, maintain the border she'd built within her heart to banish the bad.

"Old habits are hard to break," she'd say, front teeth shoved into bottom lip, the pressure turning it waxy. But more and more, she pushed forward. Gave space and voice to her experiences. Interlinked their pasts and paths, the roads crisscrossing between them.

In therapy, he'd talked about their trip, what Y/N had told him. Disclosed what was sufficient for Dr. Ludlow to get the drift. "It's hard for Y/N," he said. "I wanna be there for her. I don't want her to be sad anymore." Fourteen years of sadness had been enough.

"I think it's wonderful you want to help her. That many years of caregiving takes a toll. But she loved her father deeply, and sadness is a typical reaction to those types experiences. Let me ask you: if something happened to Y/N, what would your response be?"

His heart became a cannonball that plummeted to his stomach. "I'd die."

"No," Dr. Ludlow said, uncrossing her legs. "You would not die. You'd come to my office, and we'd work through it together. My point - we come back to this a lot - is that no emotion is negative. It's what you do with your feelings that matters. Sadness isn't a bad feeling. Unpleasant, yes, but necessary. It's a wave we all ride, just like happiness or anger. Let her ride those waves and be her lifejacket when she needs it. You'll know. Trust yourself to know."

He'd followed that guidance to the letter. The other night, they'd gone to bed at the usual hour, lain in the mottled blackness of their room. Soft snoring was the usual lullaby that sung him to sleep, but her repeated sighs continued well past midnight. He'd turned to find her on stomach, forearms shoved beneath her pillow. He'd pressed a kiss to the velvety valley between her shoulders. Placed a protective palm on her side.

She'd rolled onto her back. Spoke with a smile and wet eyes. "You give me a lot of strength by letting me be weak."

The inclination to argue had twisted his tongue. He'd gnawed the tip to stop himself. There was no way he'd say what he wanted at half-past lights out, anyway. Plus, he understood what she meant. Weakness was a hard-won refuge, third nature and allowed only with him. Still. During the decades they'd spend together, her characterization would be one they'd never agree on. It went right on the list alongside the greatness of Gotham and the entertainment value of Milton Berle.

Adjusting her champagne dress's petal sleeves, she swished past him to pluck gold earrings from her jewelry box and stepped to the vanity on the opposite side of the bed. She stuck a post through her left earlobe and screwed on the backing. "Mabel wants a tape of your set."

His great inkling suddenly shrunk to a pinpoint. "Why?" Recordings and he had a sordid history.

"She's dying to hear your material. That's a direct quote."

"Well... Would she accept a picture? I can write a joke on the back."

"How about this. I'll bring my recorder, and if you're happy with your performance, we'll send a copy. A lot of comedians record their sets."

"Oh yeah? A lot of comedians who? How do you know?"

"I've been to a show or two by now." She lined her eyes in the usual sable. "It might be good to hear the audience's reactions without the pressure of being on stage. What worked and what didn't."

"But that's why I have you," he said. When she smoothed a thin layer of silky rose shadow on her eyelids, he slinked up behind her. Traced a line down her bare arm and murmured in her ear. "You don't need all that."

"Uh huh. You don't say that when I'm wearing lace." The applicator dabbed his nose, leaving a pale circle in its wake.

Chuckling, he wiped the powder into his sleeve. "Okay. We can tape it. I think I'll be all right. I practiced a lot."

"You'll be more than all right." She spun to wrap her arms about his waist. "Just trust yourself."

A familiar directive, an encouraging echo. Her chin rested on his shoulder, warm breath on his neck. Tender hands followed the curve of her back, the zippered seam of her dress. His wedding ring gleamed in the mirror's reflection. "I will," he promised.

~~~~~

When Arthur had told her he'd signed up for an open mic at a new joint, Y/N had assumed it'd be the usual smoky nightclub, the kind frequented by couples who ordered one too many drinks. She was overdressed for a casual dining restaurant. And what were these kids doing here at this time of night? She would've tucked her nephews and nieces in by eight on the dot.

The microphone stood in the corner, a lone figure lit by the same recessed, sixty-five-watt bulbs as the tables. Behind it was a man in a faded purple t-shirt and rainbow suspenders, telling jokes about the shapes of jars. The ukulele he strummed was missing a fourth string. It struck Y/N that he was the perfect lead-in for Arthur's newest material. Family friendly and a little left footed.

No spotlight was in sight, so Y/N claimed the nearest two-top to be Arthur's spotlight. She retrieved her cassette recorder from her purse, set it in the center of the table, and scanned the crowd.

A man with lush, brunette hair picked his nose. Studied what he'd found while the woman next to him rolled her eyes and cried Oh, Harold. He stuck the golden nugget in a handkerchief. A grandmother wiped spaghetti sauce from her granddaughter's hands and asked for a doggy bag. One pair, in their fifties and looking as fish out of water as Y/N, shared a pitcher of cloudy beer.

Without a drink list on offer, Y/N had to forgo a Tequila Sunrise. She ordered plain seltzer for Arthur and a diet cola. After the show, they'd have Mai Tais at Traffic Light. Enact the plan they'd made surrounded by sunlight and strawberries.

Their vacation remained fresh in her mind, persistent as water flows shaping sandstone. What she'd assumed would be a search for reconnection and amends had turned into the mirror she'd avoided. The parts of herself she'd shielded Arthur from, the wounds she'd submerged in her marrow had flooded outward. A fountain of broken dreams and regrets, deep enough to drown in.

Her husband was a good, kind man. He'd been the first man she'd dated who'd lived her plight. The first chance to share what eight years of caregiving had done to her. Yet, she'd denied herself that comfort, convinced doing so would dismay him. And make her soul hurt all the worse.

And it had. Sometimes it still did. She'd spent too long trying to move on from it all. Yearning to forget. But the haven of Arthur's heart (and not a little prodding) allowed her to let go. Opening herself to him lightened her load, lessened her fear. The moments she felt small, protected by love and acceptance, brought an unexpected bliss. Turned the Shit She Refused to Talk About into the Shit She Could Talk About on Good Days.

Despite her relief, she'd had trouble sleeping when they'd returned. He'd made her chamomile, brought her along to the fire escape. Pulled her to his lap and guided head to his shoulder. Gently, he'd teased that it was nice to have company that late at night.

Puffing a cigarette, he'd shared past mistakes. A sampling of his notions after Penny had had her stroke, the ones that'd made him question if he was a bad person. If he had the capacity to love within him. He'd adopted the formal posture of a licensed therapist. "The doctor says we all them. Those thoughts. It's okay that you've had them, too."

Revealing his shadow self, the trust he granted her even after her confession, fertilized the seed of grace he'd planted at the cowboy bar. Vine by vine it grew, winding itself through each rib, weaving between her collarbones, wrapping around the facets of her neck. Every touch, every glance was an imprint of a promise. That no matter what had happened, no matter what would happen, he would love her.

He was helping her paste her dreams back together.

Rainbow Suspenders ducked out. Arthur emerged from the restroom alcove to the right. Diners seated along the wall offered a smattering of applause, breaking her out of her reverie and into a wide smile.

Nervous sweat shined his forehead, slender fingers played with one cuff. He began with a long breath and exaggerated bow. A trick he'd developed to hide that he was gauging his condition, the likelihood of ill-timed laughter. Once he'd straightened and caught her eye, he gave a little nod, more of a chin bob. She winked and pressed Record on the tape deck.

"Hello," he said, the start of his typical introduction. "I'm Arthur. It's good to be here. You know, growing up in Gotham was like staying in one place. There's a lot to do, but when you're a poor person it's hard to pay attention."

A cackle from the rear, a hearty guffaw to her left. The din of cutlery and conversation lowered. The press of everyone's attention turned to center stage.

With a flourish, Arthur took his journal from his pocket, presented it as a prop instead of an aid. He thumbed through its pages and leaned into the mic conspiratorially. "I've heard it's not nice to talk about someone behind their back. But what if you've talked to their front, and they want to walk all over you?"

~~~~~

Traffic Light was one of Gotham's best deals. Four dollars for an overflowing mound of Thai delicacies, one self-service plate stacked as high as GCR's Twin Towers. Available after nine o'clock Tuesdays and Thursdays. No sharing, please. Avoid waste and take plenty of napkins.

Just beyond the glass entryway, a praying Buddha statue greeted them, the tip of its ushnisha taller than a stupa. Golden elephants marched along sequined tapestries, plastic greenery hung from the ceiling, cradled in beige macrame. Behind the register, floral garlands topped royal family portraits. And facing the bar was a spirit house the size of a fax machine, where green tea and coconuts were offered for protection. Warm, woody incense merged with the pungent smell of curry to make Y/N's mouth water.

Arthur's long strides beat her to the buffet. He grabbed a scalloped plate, held it parallel to his chest. Drummed the bottom while he studied the unfamiliar cuisine. Grinning, she stepped forward to be his guide.

Chicken satay and steamed jasmine rice found an immediate home on his dish, peanut sauce cuddled up to dependable crispy wings. Scallion pancakes were deep friend, making him an instant fan. On her advice, he added a scoop of vegetable tempura, just to get a vitamin or two in his system. When he poked a squid's suckers, his expression was a mask of alarm. The seafood stir fry was a firm pass. Y/N ordered the yellow curry - two star spicy this time.

They settled on brown wicker bar chairs at the counter, which ran along the front window, facing the street. People hustling to work, to a relaxing night of dozing in an easy chair before the television, to fluttery first dates.

"So." Arthur dipped sliced carrot in her curry sauce, speaking and sipping his cocktail. "What did you think? I couldn't really hear the crowd. I was too nervous."

"No one could tell. You were a real professional out there." She nibbled the last vestiges of meat from a chicken bone. Wiped her fingers and pulled a folded tissue from her purse. "I just had a couple ideas."

"You took notes?"

"You can compare them to the tape later."

His set had started off strong and ended on a high note, bridging a lull that'd sagged the middle. He'd only been a beat off at times, a pause post-setup a split second too long. "The crowd got quiet about halfway through," she said.

"Maybe they were listening?" he asked. She didn't have to look to know he was somewhere between a squint and a grin. His tender tone held a challenge.

"It's possible. But I think they anticipated your shtick, the 'why' and 'what do you get' format of your jokes." Her fingertip followed the points on her paper. "Instead of asking, 'Why is marriage like fine wine?' you could deliver the whole joke as a sentence or two. What about, 'Marriage is like fine wine. The more it ages, the rarer it is.' And than make it personal by mentioning your favorite."

"Like, 'My wife and I are a fine Moscato?'"

"Merlot ages better."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he swiveled on his stool in mock offense. "Well, it is my joke." A truth and a tease.

She popped the last bite of spring roll between his lips, followed the gesture with a peck. He caught her jaw and brought her back for another. Head hazy, she dropped her lashes. Leaned into the warm palm cradling her cheek.

He wasn't the funniest comedian she'd ever heard. But he was the one she loved the most.

Just as he dug out his wallet, a couple halted on the sidewalk, breaking their stride directly in front of them. The man wore a pastel, plaid sportscoat, the woman a blue sweater embroidered with a white Scottish terrier. Y/N recognized them as the older pair from the restaurant, kindred guppies in need of a pond.

Plaid Jacket pointed through the window, waved the wave of the overexcited, and darted through the door.

He wiped his meaty hand on his trousers and extended it to Arthur. "Hey, weren't you that guy at Laughs Lots?" His breath stank of shitty casual dining beer.

"Yes," Arthur said, taking the offered hand. His smile started off disbelieving but then crinkled his entire face. "Yeah! That was me."

"Well, I'll be. Always wanted to do an open mic night, never had the guts, though. I play harmonica. I'm Bob."

The woman on his arm gave a swift nod. "Bob's real good, too. He's got 'The Entertainer' down pat."

That wasn't the first tune Y/N associated with a harmonica. But Arthur's style of jokes wasn't what she expected out of comedy, either.

"And that must be the little lady," Bob continued, nudging Arthur's arm. Then his eyes popped. "I've gotta take a leak." On that note, he jogged towards the back of the restaurant, fists at his side like he was running a race.

Y/N snorted and patted her handbag. She hushed her voice and leaned towards Arthur, upper arm brushing his bicep. "See? You can mail that tape tomorrow."

~~~~~

With the brisk night air and clear, velvet skies, they decided to skip the train and walk home. They threaded around trash bags, hopped over sidewalk cracks, ran the last block to Sheldon Park. It'd closed an hour after sunset, but the iron gate's chain remained unlatched, either as an oversight or because the lock was broken. Likely the latter.

Y/N glanced over both shoulders. Pushed the gate ajar and slipped through the opening. Squeezed Arthur's hand and pulled him to follow.

Camping tents were set off from main entrance, tucked behind a dirt trail. Four or five, a number likely to grow given Gotham's continued stagnation. Flames licked the edges of a metal barrel, where men in ragged jackets warmed their fingers. Along the main path, two teenagers sat with a boombox, blasting the latest Run D.M.C. hit Arthur hadn't heard. Their sunglasses must've been to protect their retinas from their sneakers. Their shoes were so white they glowed. The two clinked Tab bottles and swigged.

Cinching the belt of her spring coat, she continued towards the center of the park. For being smack dab in the middle of the urban landscape, it was surprisingly quiet. No horse hooves clacked, no skateboards whizzed past. Hip hop was out of earshot now. About a minute later, he recognized where they were headed.

Ducks busied themselves on the rear side of the pond, chit chatting and grooming one another. Others slept with beaks buried under their feathers. The nearby bench was a recent addition, grass hadn't yet sprouted around its legs. Y/N sped ahead of him and took a seat. Leaned against the backrest and looked up.

It was six seconds before she spoke. "See that?" she asked and pointed at the sky. "That's the North Star."

"It's the bright one, right?" He settled next to her on the edge of the bench.

"In the tail of the little dipper. My father taught me where it was in case I ever got lost." A light laugh left her. "He tried to show me other constellations, but I was terrible at finding them. But on clear nights, we made our own. The Kite. The Tablespoon. The Stethoscope - though I think that's Orion's club or something." She folded her hands together in her lap. "The stars are hard to see here, with all the skyscrapers and lights. They're the one thing I miss from back home."

Arthur studied her face, all the details he'd memorized. Her brows remained relaxed, her eyes dry, cheeks flushed a subtle pink. He laced his fingers through hers. "I'm sorry you can't see them here."

"Don't be." Her gaze locked with his, eased into a smile. "You're the brightest star of all."

Happy roiling whirled his stomach, his pulse skipped a beat. He felt a sudden, indefinable feeling of rightness. He brought her knuckles to his lips, kissed them and kissed her mouth. She tasted like curry and coconut milk.

Scooting away, adjusting as he went, he reclined to rest his head on her shoulder. Look towards the stars and dream.

"Which one's The Kite?"

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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expose-news · 1 month ago

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maiyami · 3 years ago

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“I know it’s hard to love me.”

This is a quick thought I had. I have just been through a really tough time and I felt a bit angsty. Just overall said boi themes, sorry I’m in my feels today.

Im lazy there are so many warning and this is not edited. Trigger warnings all over this one, if you’re under 18, don’t react or I’ll block you.

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Sad themes, break up, language, self blame, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, no happy ending.

You just hide yourself away, it’s what you end up doing best when hurt. Honestly…it’s a bad habit. Vanishing into thin air when your world seems like it comes crashing down around you. Sadly this is your defense mechanism, has been since you were a little girl. Some habits are easier to shake than others.

So here you were, sitting high on your building rooftop. Cigarette between your lips, while the cool air of the night nipped your cheeks. Some might think that freezing yourself half to death wouldn’t make you feel better. But it’s just the opposite for you, it makes you feel alive. Pulls you out of the numbness you feel in your soul currently. Taking a long drag, you blow the smoke out into the night sky.

“Those will kill you, dumbass.” A husky voice sounded behind you. You didn’t move a muscle, couldn’t. If you were the first to turn around, you’d crack. Crack into a thousand pieces that are just barely kept together. You didn’t think he’d come so soon, so soon after you let him in on everything.

Just a week earlier, your poured your soul out to him. How you were ready for something more, that it was scary and you needed to take it slow. But you wanted to be committed, you wanted to be his. You believed everything to be perfect, that he finally got what he wanted and you finally spoke those unspoken feelings.

But of course, you ruined it. You just had to argue with him, over attention of all things. Something you knew was going to be difficult with his schedule. But he still had time for Kirishima, you think that’s were it really hurt. That you felt as so he was ignoring you, becoming distant already. Not approaching it in the most reasonable way, you let him know that it bugged you.

Bugged you to the point where you didn’t let him have the space he asked for. Pushed to hard, hard enough that he rethought everything about your relationship. That maybe you both were just in two different places in life, that you deserved someone who can give you the attention you needed. Blah blah blah…you heard it all before. You were the girl that was just not worth it after an argument. You believed that about yourself as well.

“What do you want Bakugou. I already told you how I felt, you don’t get to lecture me on what’s good or bad for my body.” You huffed back slightly, see unable to try and turn around to face him.

He was silent for what felt like years, mulling over in his head what he should say. It wasn’t until you heard a shaky breath come from his chest.

“You think this doesn’t hurt me? Well it does, I didn’t like doing this to you. Hurting you this way, I never wanted to do that to you. You deserve someone that makes you happy, it’s not that you didn’t try hard enough for me. You are more than enough, I think you’re the right person for me but it’s just bad timing.”

That’s when you turned around, you were never good at hiding how you really felt about something. Your facial expressions gave you up quicker then any words that ever came from your mouth.

“I wish you told me this last week, it would have saved me from feeling so fucking stupid. Look at it through my eyes, Bakugou. Everything was fine last week, you were excited that I finally told you how I felt…how it took me so long to even admit these feelings…to even want to be in a relationship…you were going to call me your significant other if someone asked. To now whatever this is, not together anymore…not even friends…you’d be confused as well if you were in my shoes…just as hurt as well.”

Now that got his attention, nostrils flaring while his vermilion eyes stared through you. “Yeah, that’s how I felt. I never lied too you.” His chest was raising and falling rapidly. Yeah, this really wasn’t easy for him as well. But your own sourness over the whole situation just couldn’t let you see it just yet.

Your eyes stared back, there was no backing down now.

“Feelings don’t change that quickly. It just hurts. Felt like I was so easily dropped, and I can’t pretend that it didn’t shatter my heart.”

He stepped closer this time now, his palms clenching into fists to keep his wildly popular temper in tact.

“My feelings haven’t changed! Don’t act like I’m doing this with a smile on my face and a pep in my step, y/n. I’m fucking hurting too.”

“This is fucking karma coming to bite me in the ass…” you muttered to yourself, honestly you shouldn’t have said it but you just couldn’t keep it from slipping your lips.

“This has nothing to do with karma!” He shouted this time, it rang in your ears. “I didn’t do this to be spiteful or to make you feel the same pain I felt all those months ago when you couldn’t reciprocate my feelings for you. I can’t give you the time and attention you need, it’s unfair of me to make you feel lonely!”

“I never felt lonely even when you weren’t here! You don’t understand how much you mean to me!” Now you were shouting, tears coming down your cheeks from your anger.

“It sucks to think that one argument about you being busy could lead to this! Not even a week in us actually “dating” and it’s already over with. You didn’t give it a shot, Katsuki. We both know this!”

“I did give it a fucking shot! I just realize that I still have my own shit I need to work on, so do you. I can’t commit myself to someone when I’m not whole myself. It’s not fair.” You could feel the emotion coming from his chest. It was coming off him in waves. He stuttered off something along the times that he couldn’t promise you anything right now but you both needed time away from each other.

So you were going to be honest with him. Even if it hurt yourself to say it and hurt for him to hear it.

“I know it’s hard to love me, my father used to say it all the time. So I have come to accept that it’ll never be easy to love someone like me.” You took a sharp breath before continuing. “When I get hurt, I shut myself out. And the first thing I want to do is hurt those who hurt me 10x more than how they hurt me. So I lash out.” This was the calmest you had spoken this entire time.

“I say or do things I end up regretting. Like how I said that I could never be your friend after this again. I said it in the heat of the moment.” You turned your gaze from him. “It was hard for me to open up to you in the first place. I thought I was going to feel suffocated like how I had in the past with mono relationships…but with you? That feeling never came.”

“You felt like a breath of fresh air and you gave me a warmth that I just couldn’t help but bask in it. I could have said harsh things to you, blocked you, and washed you clean out of my life. I just couldn’t do it, you’re my best friend and it hurt knowing that I was going to lose you over something I knew would happen if we spoke about things left unspoken. I said things I know you’ll never forget, the same goes for what you said.” As you kept speaking, you heard his breath bitch a little.

“I love you, sure it’s a shit time to say it back but I might as well be honest. I want you to get everything you deserve out of this world. I really don’t want to lose you, which is selfish of me…however if that something in life is for me not to be apart of it? I wish you all the luck in the world. I can’t take back what I said, that will be something I’ll have to live with until it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Katsuki just stared at you dumbfounded, he looked so shocked. He was at a loss for words.

“I don’t know what to say, I didn’t think you’d confess like this. I can’t promise you anything but right now…we aren’t good for each other. I can’t give you the attention you need. It’s not that it’s hard to love you…I-I need to go.” He was nervous it was plain to see.

“I’m going to be clear, I don’t need attention. I don’t need it to keep a relationship alive. I was ready to give you everything, I didn’t think an argument would ruin it so quickly.” You spoke soft now, walking by him to get back to the fire escape. Not turning around to look at him one more time.

“It is hard to love me, I don’t make it easy. I get angry to often, fire my mouth off and regret it later. Well…now is later. I love you, more than I’ll ever care to admit. I hope you find someone that will make your world spin. Make you forget that I even existed. It’ll go back to us being strangers, I know it’s hard to love me…but I’ll keep being hard to love if it ends up making you grow…and find the perfect person for you.”

You held back the tears that threatened to pour down your cheeks once more, leaving Katsuki on that rooftop. Just like he was another stranger.

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tipsydipsydo · 4 years ago

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➳ the shower

➳ "keep teasing, I'll bend you over right here!"

➳ "it'd be better if they watched"

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Gender of the Reader: male

Word Count: ~1k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut/PwP

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Petnames; verbal Degradation; Mentions of Daddy! Kink; Dom-Sub-Dynamic (Top! & Dom! Reader x Bottom! & Sub! Jungkook) ; anal Fingering; Mentions of Exhibitionism-Kink; Teasing; Anal Sex; Mentions of unprotected Sex; In conclusion: Jungkook is a vocal brat

A/N: I know, I know... Pride Month is almost a month over but I had a writersblock lately and this shit kept me away from writing... so I'll try now to post some more bts x male reader stories! ♡ I hope you like my newest work ;)

Status: Un-edited

[Links]:

BTS Smut Drabbles

My Writings | My Blog Navigation

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

You should have known that Jungkook only offered you the option of showering together to simply tease the shit out of you. He said, it would save sooo much more warm water for his other roomates up and that Seokjin would yell at him when they run out of warm water again.

You were indeed way too naïve and trustful. The thought alone that Jungkook could get possibly in trouble because of him, his boyfriend, who neither live here nor pay for anything decided already for him. You're simply a guest who sleep over from time to time and your mom made sure that you'll grow into a man with good manners. So after Jungkook explained the urgency why you should shower together, you don't have any kind of reason why you shouldn't.

Well, you definitely should know Jungkook already well enough to realize, that your boyfriend like to use some white lies here and there to get what he wants. It's still hard to believe for you how the previous Jungkook, who was so terribly shy and nervous as you started dating each other, turned out to be so mishief and sassy. As someone, who could barely exchange some small talk without any stuttering at first, he has now a more than bold tongue and loves to be a brat that tests the limits of your acceptance. Little did you know that he is a masochist who needs to get put back into 'his place', eventhough he won't admit it openly. At least until now.

A cheeky pinch into your left buttcheek got you out of your thoughts and a boyishly giggle comes from behind you. You agreed to wash each others back and of course Jungkook couldn't let the perfect opportunity of grabbing your ass pass by.

"I like your ass, Daddy~ I love to see the how your muscles twitch when I am pinching you and how you gasp in surprise and disbelief, hehe.", chuckles Jungkook and you can literally hear the bright bunny smile out of his voice. It's pretty common for him, he has on his face whenever he teases or annoys you on purpose.

While his endearing smile makes your heart melt and let Jungkook getting away with his teasing way too often, the title he just called you does something to you and Jungkook knows that. Of course he do.

Your nose flare as you take a deep breath and the annoyed eye-roll had given way for a hungry and almost predatory-like expression. Slowly you turn around to Jungkook, who's eyes grows big the moment he sees your facial expression. A harsh gulp follows as you close the space between you two and cages him with your arms, sandwiching him between your own body and the cold tiles. The steady bobs of his adams-apple make it look so incredibly seductive. Some deep purple hickeys all over his neck would suit Jungkook very well.

"Hm, Babyboy? What was that? Would you mind to explain your bratty behavior to me? Keep teasing, I'll bend you over right here. Seems like you wouldn't mind to play around with Daddy for a little bit. Well, if we're already standing here in the shower together, then we need to make the waste of water to be worth it, right?", you wisper in a raspy voice into his slightly blushing ear.

A dark, satiesfied chuckle flees over your lips as you see how his bold and bratty personality starts slowly to crumble down and how your own teasing and promising words put him into his submissive mindset. Jungkook may be a tease but with the right words and gaze you can turn him easily back into a good, well behaving sub.

"What about a quick shower fuck? Isn't that what you wanted, Kookie?"

Your boyfriend exhales shakingly, didn't even recognized that he hold his breath the last few seconds. He nibbles at his lower lip with his cute bunny theeth before he gives you his confirmation.

"Y-Yes please, Daddy. Fuck me, I need you to drill your big dick inside of me, please split my asshole open with your girthy cock-", he whines weakly. Yes, that's what you like to hear. Suddenly he is such a good boy again, it's truly fascinating.

"Turn around, Baby. Spread your legs and pull your cute, little ass cheeks apart for me."

It only takes you a short moment to reach through the small slit of the opened glass door to grab into the drawer of the nearby standing bathroom drawer and pull a bottle of lube out.

It isn't the first time you have some fun in the shower.

The sight Jungkook is giving you let a deep grunt of appreciation escape your throat and leave your hard cock salivating in precum. God, he looks way too hot in this position. Literally awaiting for your cock to get fucked mercilessly.

To be honest... Jungkook is such a slut for assplay. The way already two of your fingers slip into his soft, stretched hole without any resistance. Just a few minutes later your third finger joins in without any problems. He must playing with himself a lot when you aren't around...

Just tiny whimpers and little pants left his mouth while you fingered him but now... now, where you lined your red and angry leaking cock up to his, in exitement clenching hole and slowly filling him up... whiny and highpitched moans filling the humid air in the bathroom.

Jungkook's right cheek is pressed against the tiles, eyes rolling back into his skull whenever you pulled out almost completely just to drill your cock balls deep back into him. To hear how the skin of your hips meets his bubble butt and create such obscene slapping noises clouds Jungkook's mind. He tries desperately to lift his trembling hand to his mouth to muffle his greedy moans, he would be mortified if his roommates call him out about being way too vocal once again.

Unfortunately his intention doesn't fit the plans you have for him. He teased you on purpose, very well aware that all of his roommates are at home today. He is the one who loves the thrill of getting caught doing something nasty. He is the one who jerked you off at the movie theater. So you don't have the need to cover up what you're doing.

You let Jungkook's hips go for a minute, just to grab both of his wrists and move his arms behind his back, holding them in place with one hand while the other one moves back to it's previous place at his hip.

"It'd be better if they watched. Just imagine how the bathroom door would open and they would stand there, watching us. Then they'd see how well I am fucking and wrecking this little ass of yours. What a good little fucktoy you are, taking my fat cock so well in your tiny asshole. Just think about how our nasty, shameless act turn them on to that point where they couldn't control themself anymore and start to jerk off to us. You would like that, yeah? I know what a dirty little boy you are. So let them hear what a greedy, filthy fuckdoll you are. Come, don't be shy. Be louder. Even more louder, Baby..."

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