#and that changed my art style completely again it feels like but. alas. this is definitely the last of its kind

[louwhose]

Happy Pi Day! Or... is it pie day? White day?

Whatever, today is something and I'm celebrating whatever it is with this ship I'm far too obsessed with for how little screentime they have.

[beekeeperspicnic]

Same anon. I also just wanna start off by saying that i know nothing about game design, i also am very very new to this blog/game and i dont want to sound overly critical or make you think that these are huge problems that need fixing, its mostly just small things i noticed that felt a little odd but otherwise didnt take away from the experience too much. You also definitely don't have to "fix" anything if these are intentional design choices. Im not familiar with these types of games at all so i might just experience mild culture shock about it. You also don't have to respond to this and you can feel free to delete this ask if you wish to for whatever reason <333

So, I think you've mentioned this already but it felt a bit odd that it was silent when there was dialogue. (I think) you mentioned you didn't want or couldn't have actual voice acting but i think any sound that indicates speech could work! Like little beepings or tappings? Perhaps that can be turned on or off in potential settings? Otherwise, i really liked the sound designs in the game!

Im 99% sure it is an intentional design choice because its a retro/retro inspired game but sometimes it felt like foregrounds and backgrounds melted together because there are only colour blocks and never/rarely any clear lines. Might also be because im colourblind but it made it a bit hard for me to distinguish where everything was, especially the fossil in the cottage living room. Definitely not a big problem, i did get there in the end, after all, but perhaps something to at least be aware of? :3

Lastly, the options menu in the dialogue looks a little out of place to me. I think it might be the black background? This might also be an intentional design choice, it just looked a little clunky to me (again, as someone not used to retro games! So it might just be a me thing!). Perhaps different/more fitting colours or outlined text with no background could potentially work?

Again, very sorry for the huge ask and if anything of this sounds.... /Bad/. I definitely don't mean for it to sound that way and i totally understand if all of this is something you dont want or cant change. After all, while i enjoyed the demo im def not your core audience as someone who hasn't grown up with/played games like these <3333

Thanks for the feedback!

Alas I can't afford to have this game speech acted (I would like to but the costs would be phenomenal), and personally I just don't "get" having beeping or clicking noises or wah wah sounds when characters are talking, especially since the rest of the sound design is naturalistic. I just find that a really weird idea? You're not the first person to mention it though, so.... idk. Perhaps I'll try it sometime just to see if I can warm up to it.

There's not a great deal I can do about the art style at this stage - I've already spent the last year completing most of the artwork. If it helps the trilobite isn't in the main game! It's just a demo thing. If there is a particular colour combo that didn't work for you I'd be interested to know.

I can change the black background at least! I was just going for something high contrast, but I could try deep green or something.

Idk if I want my core audience to be people who play retro games - in fact I am pretty worried that point and click adventure gamers won't really be into it! So I appreciate the perspective.

[freebooter4ever]

Are the lines on your drawings stylistic choices or are they measurement/guiding lines? Either way, they are cool, but just wondered. I dont understand drawing at all, might as well be a magic spell to me. I was looking at the pencil (?) sketch of Malkin with the cheesecutter hat on.

i, uh, definitely did not google 'cheesecutter hat' until after i saved out these images. :/ sorry about that. if you'd like the other one broken down, i can do that too lol. my reading comprehension when im tired is kinda lazy i just saw 'cheese' and imediately thought 'omelette'. SO here's the 1) initial sketch, 2) 'clean' sketch, and 3) final lines for the omelette boy drawing instead:

also i have had a cumulative of about 9 ish hrs of sleep total for the past two days so keep that in mind for if this explanation makes no sense, its not my fault. :( anyway! the way i draw definitely has changed over the years but currently im really trying to focus on the line i "see" rather than the one that is actually "there". i've been applying this to my writing for years (story vs happening truth) and you know it never occurred to me that i could do it in my drawings too till like...a few years ago. in general these lines seem to form the planes of the subject. if you google 'stanford bunny' you can find an easy example of a 3D surface turned into triangles. I do this too - see things in relative triangle proportions, except i've been doing it long before i knew how computers worked. i cant begin to tell you how long d*sney and cartooning's obsession with round building blocks of anatomical structure fucked with my brain until i finally decided i could cast that teaching aside completely.

ANYWAY sorry off subject again. so we have these sketchy under lines, and usually as im trying to find the proportions and form of the subject these lines end up being where the light/shadow hits. here i saved out the 1) 'flat colors', 2) the 'light', and 3) the 'shadow' parts on their own (i lightened the background for the 'shadow' so its easier to see):

the light is like four or five 'overlay' layers of pale yellow/orange. you can see how each of these layers follow one of those sketchy lines i did initially. and the same with the shadow but instead its a dark red color set to 'multiply' for each layer. and when you combine everything together you get:

some bullshit :). anyway you know that anniversary edition of beauty and the beast that featured the version previewed to nyc audiences in 1990 with the glen ke*ne sketchy keyframe animation of the beast's transformation? i watched that - must have been sometime after i graduated college - and i felt robbed that THAT version was never presented as a final piece. the 'unclean' drawings had so much more life and movement and intensity to them. tldr i like the messy lines, i hate 'inking' with a passion (HATE. IT.), and when i finally allowed myself to stop giving a fuck drawing became way more interesting. but my art is shit and i will never be glen k*ane so i dont really feel like the best advocate for this "style". alas. there was this one artist on tumblr who i fucking loved whose sketches were SPECTACULAR but the asshole racists in the m*c*ha*nz*o fandom bullied her off tumblr and ive never been able to find her art anywhere else since. she was also very negative about her 'unclean' sketches and it made me so sad. there was also this other artist whose sketches were awe inspiring but all she drew was p*rn and well...we all know what happened on tumblr in december 2018.

also i 100% stole the lighting scheme from The Bear which is currently one of the most gorgeous shows on television right now in my opinion

im really really sorry if this makes no sense, if im feeling motivated maybe i'll try again when my brain is fully functioning but with the actual 'cheesecutter hat' doodle ^_^

[the-script-demands-it]

Welcome to...

Rad's enormous pile of abandoned MetaWare WIPs/things that ARE finished but I didn't like them/WIPs that I might come back to/other stuff!

Below the "keep reading" button will be a detailing of all of these images! Please be aware that this WILL be an extremely long post, so... Just a warning. There'll be a second post after this that will also contain the rest of the art that I wasn't able to squeeze in here. (Even 30 pics per Tumblr post isn't enough for this...)

Let's start off with the most recently abandoned WIP!

I started drawing this about two weeks after Chris' birthday (her bday is January 4th) and I was really happy with it, but then I had NO idea how to pose Izzy. It's a bummer since I liked how Chris' hair came out, but alas! (Happy belated birthday, Chris!)

Possibility of finishing?: Yeah, maybe. Prob will have to change Izzy's pose if I really want to finish it though.

Oh hey, I posted this a few months ago on my other blog!

Really wish I finished it, but now that I'm looking back on it, there's definitely some improvement to be had here. I don't like whatever's going on with her face. You can tell that I gave up while trying to make the background as well. Poor Hope!

Possibility of finishing?: I'll have to completely redraw this if I plan on finishing it, but I've definitely got a feeling that I'll come back to this someday.

Hmph!

This one's actually pretty finished, I've just never posted it anywhere before because it's such a small little doodle. I like it though! Nari in a Gir tassel hat is always welcome.

Possibility of finishing?: It's already done. Don't plan on editing it!

(This happens on the rude route!)

It's basically just a proof of concept, and a VERY minimal one at that, but I think it's got some merit! Not enough people talk about that Chris Vs Aspen scene, honestly.

Possibility of finishing?: Sometime this year maybe...??? I don't plan on abandoning this forever, I just don't really know when I'll get around to it.

AUTISM BLAST PT. 1

Hey, remember that art I had pinned on my other blog for a while? I was planning on redrawing it, but I only ever managed to complete one part of it until I forgot about it... It's definitely an upgrade from the original version, though I can do better than this nowadays.

Possibility of finishing?: I'm DEFINITELY going to redraw this someday. I need a new pinned post, damn it!

Thx ^]

Okay, here's some context for these two. I got an anonymous ask on my other account saying that they liked my MetaWare PFP and I thought that it would be a great idea if I responded to it with some art and also turn that same post into an announcement for my MetaWare sideblog (this one!), but that of course did not actually happen.

Possibility of finishing?: NO.

Nari looks so... "off" in this picture.

I like how I drew Hope, but ergh... that is NOT Nari. I don't know how I managed to make her look like a completely different character in this one, but I do NOT like it.

Possibility of finishing?: Nah, I think I'm done with this pic.

Woah, scary!

I actually touched this one up a bit before sending it here. It used to look MUCH more incomplete, but it's basically done now besides from the hair being missing 'n all.

Possibility of finishing?: I might draw more MetaWare stuff with drastic lighting in the future, but I don't plan on revisiting this specifically.

Le miaow miaows.

I worked on Hope before sending this because she looked kinda off, but I think she looks OK now. You can see that this isn't really what my usual art style looks like. I was trying to mix together the original MetaWare sprite art style and the style SparkBag used in the polaroid anniversary art he made, and I think I did just fine.

Possibility of finishing?: It's basically already done! Coloring it would probably make it cooler, but I don't think I'll ever do that.

This won't be the last time I try to use eyes symbolically.

I still REALLY want to revisit this again. It's great! It's magnificent! I just did NOT have the ability to execute it properly back when I made it a ton of months ago, so I just didn't do it. Still don't know if I do now, but it's worth a shot. (This was basically just another proof of concept, by the way.)

Possibility of finishing?: Absolutely! I'll try to get to this sometime soon this year.

GRILLING START ! ! !

Yep, this was based off of Papyrus' "Dating Start!" minigame! Just another proof of concept or... Okay I don't know what else to call these. Like, they're definitely NOT finished nor are they actual fleshed out sketches, what else am I supposed to call them???? I think it's cool though.

Possibility of finishing?: Don't think I'll be ditching this idea anytime soon. Seems kinda simple to draw too, I'll get to it sometime.

Lookin' pretty cute!!

Context for this one: It was gonna be a 3 part comic or something with Hope drawing Nari's bear fursona. Never actually made the comic though, but I DID make her fursona!!! It's the one right below this one, actually.

Possibility of finishing?: Nope.

BEAR NARI BARI LET'S GO

Personally, I think this is adorable. When drawing people's fursonas I always kinda make them more animal than anthropomorphic, but I think it leads to pretty cute art!

Possibility of finishing?: It's already done!

I was just testing out a brush with this one, I think.

It's a cute little doodle, don't have much to say about it though! I WILL say that the bear plushie was a bit inspired by my own plush I have at home, though this one is much smaller than mine.

Possibility of finishing?: Nah, it's just a little doodle.

Ingo Nari... Ingri... Angry!?!

iiii really think I made the hat too big. Like... WAY too big. Don't really like how her face came out, but the body itself is pretty OK. I based it too much on Ingo's original pose though, kinda looks like I just put Nari's head on his head LMAO

Possibility of finishing?: This is basically already finished, though I might draw Nari cosplaying as Ingo again. Why not?

(Bonus Ingri!)

Nari in a hoodie!

Don't exactly remember what this was for. Either it was for an AU of mine or someone else's AU. Her front hair's kinda too far down though, I had a bit of a habit making her face REALLY small compared to her hair in my old art.

Possibility of finishing?: Nay!

Wow, Nari with an eye AND eyebrows! Who woulda thunk it.

Her hair is much puffier than previous versions in this one. Why? Dunno. She looks pretty cool AND cute in this though!

Possibility of finishing?: It's already complete.

My polar bear plush makes a cameo in this one! Say hi!

I had to edit this one a SHIT ton before sending this final picture. I wish I had a pin that said "I HATE DRAWING METAWARE STYLE NOSES" because I loathe them. There were other reasons why I didn't like the original version, but I was annoyed with the nose the most. Really happy how this came out though!

Possibility of finishing?: I just finished it right now. (I'll probably be posting this on its own sometime soon)

Some original characters...!? Unthinkable!

This features Lumi (Metolefrul-indus' fan character) and an old version of Rowan (my fan character)! I changed Rowan's design and personality soon after this, so I don't think this interaction with Lumi and Rowan will actually ever happen... Sorry Lumi! 'Twas just a little doodle.

Possibility of finishing?: NEVER.

Last but not least (for this post, anyway), is this Chris and Izzy sketch!

Some pals requested this during a stream and this was all I managed to make of it... I'm so sorry!!!!!!! They were good prompts!!! I'll finish it one day I swear!!!!

Possibility of finishing?: Soon!

PHEW WE'RE DONE FOR THIS POST. We have 20 more to go in the next one! Might post it next week because this is tiring holy hell. Glad to show these WIPs off to the world though!

P.S. I'm going to skip a few images seen in the huge pic at the beginning! Some were already completed and I'll just post those on their own orrrr I just don't want to review 'em.

[declanowo]

31 Days of Horror - Day 6 - The Devil Inside

06/10/23

My love for the horror genre started around 2018 or 2019, I can’t quite pinpoint when I fell deeply in love with it, but I remember staying up late under my covers watching films on Netflix, a handful come to mind such as the Babysitter and Before I wake. After those, I remember distinctly deciding on my love after watching the Chucky films, as well as a large sum of Youtube videos. When the Child’s Play remake was coming out, I remember asking my mum to buy it for me, with her refusing to as she didn’t want me watching “films like that”. Eventually, it came onto streaming, and I watched it while eating some takeaway food and found it to be nowhere as good as the others. 

Eventually, my mum understood my enjoyment more, viewing it as harmless, and word spread around to my family. During lockdown, one of my uncles dropped off a huge bags worth of horror DVDs he had accumulated over the years, and in an instant I was overjoyed. Most of these films were evidently collected during their weekly supermarket shops - low budget horror which you’d struggle to find much information about. One of these films was The Devil Inside. 

Initially, I had no interest in the film - why would I? Exorcism movies have never so much been my thing, and the cover art didn’t draw me in, yet this all changed after I watched another of these films a few months ago - The Boy. I found the film to be delightful, and my love for director William Brent Bell’s work was cemented after watching The Orphan: First Kill, a sequel to one of my favourite films, which I also found to be a very fun time. 

Both the directors previous movies have some things in common - they are both B-movies with phenomenal twists. Unfortunately my love for this film is nowhere near those two, in fact, I wouldn’t describe myself as loving The Devil Inside at all. 

My disappointment started when I began this DVD, finding no special features. Honestly, I was holding out so much hope to hear what Bell had to say about this film, but alas, we have not been gifted this much. Truly, that is the darkest thing about this film. 

All that aside, to me, this film was simply boring to me. A similarity it shares with The Boy is that the first two acts are fairly slow, mildly boring, and build up to a great final act. However, in comparison to The Boy, which feels offbeat yet loveable at all times, I couldn’t connect with this film at all. 

When starting this film, I found myself deeply excited that it was found footage - mixed with the exorcisms, it felt like an incredibly interesting combination! Yet, my dreams were crushed when it was revealed that instead this was a mockumentary. Although I don’t want to write off the whole style, I haven’t found a film that uses the framing device effectively - admittedly I haven’t searched far. For example, this film doesn’t feel too invested in making it feel like a documentary. Nothing about it feels strung together like a documentary, in fact, nothing in this beyond maybe the first act feels like it could be made into a documentary, from the weird cuts between characters to the swearing that just wouldn’t fly in a real documentary, which just completely took me out of any emersion I had. 

I also didn’t find myself connecting with these characters. This being said, I did feel a level of connection to our protagonist Issabella, at least, I did towards the beginning - after around the twenty minute mark I felt so disconnected from her and the rest of the characters. Yet one line stuck with me when thinking about her character, which was when she spoke about the feelings that come with losing both parents, and truly it made me feel something. 

The only other character I found interesting was the priest, mostly towards the climax of the film. I doubt I will think of anything in this film again after a week or so, except for his death scene, which, while not haunting or even too scary, it does leave a mark on the audience for sure. 

The exorcisms themselves were fine, yet I can’t find anything to say about them beyond that. I finished the film ten minutes before starting writing and yet, I would struggle to explain this film to many people in depth. 

Honestly, I was so hopeful this would be another hidden gem by the director, but it really just didn’t land for me. As I draw my discussion to a close, I feel like I am left with nothing to say, with so little to redeem it in my eyes, it makes me wonder if there are any other nuggets of gold left in my pile of DVDs left three years ago, or if I simply struck gold early with The Boy. I guess there is only one way to find out, but I can’t say I’m in a hurry to do so. 

2/10

[wevegottogetaway]

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone. 

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind. 

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and  a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?" 

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins. 

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-" 

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

                                                       ***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.  

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it. 

                                                       ***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm. 

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!" 

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before. 

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place. 

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?" 

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me." 

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?" 

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation." 

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order. 

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

                                                        ***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once. 

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test. 

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

                                                       ***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

                                                         ***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in? 

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

                                                       ***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming  and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer. 

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether. 

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides. 

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics. 

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that. 

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence." 

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!" 

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming. 

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go. 

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits. 

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows. 

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

                                                       ***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place). 

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm. 

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you’re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why. 

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop  for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes. 

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head. 

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

                                                       ***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her. 

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building. 

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant. 

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know. 

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be. 

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them  however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place." 

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection. 

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’." 

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is. 

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper. 

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n." 

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own. 

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear. 

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink. 

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his. 

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."  

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?" 

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words. 

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss. 

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans. 

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right." 

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?" 

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek. 

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead. 

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties." 

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra.  Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach. 

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips. 

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment. 

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways. 

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good." 

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough." 

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths. 

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness. 

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?" 

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering. 

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly. 

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind. 

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell. 

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry  doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused. 

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."  

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was." 

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference. 

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Lydia Deetz

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Lydia after she moved into town. You went to the same school as her and were in a few of her classes, though you doubted that really mattered; you’d find out about her pretty quickly even if she wasn’t.

- Lydia was an ...interesting character. You liked to think of your school as fairly accepting, people weren’t outwardly mean to her; some were even welcoming, but you somewhat understood many peoples hesitance towards befriending her. Above all, she was fairly standoffish though at the time, no one knew why.

- Still, you liked her style. She was strange and unusual, something you admired. So you took the chance and tried to befriend her, approaching her after school and trying to start a conversation as she unlocked her bike. She was polite but quick to end your talk, making up an; obvious, excuse before riding off.

- But you wouldn’t be deterred, continuing your efforts as the days rolled by and eventually getting her to warm up to you. You even managed to invite her out with you, giving her a tour around the town and slowly getting to know her better.

- Over time, you grow to like her more and more until you realize that you don’t just want to be her friend. It’s then that you have a real predicament on your hands, and a decision to make: try to ignore your feelings and hope they go away or confront them and hope for the best.

- It’s a few months into your friendship that you decide to confess your true feelings for her. Unbeknownst to you, she was planning on doing the same.

- You were sitting in the towns graveyard with her, a place you’d been to several times mainly because you knew she loved it. It seemed like the perfect place to tell her how you felt so you took a deep breath and stumbled through your confession. And... she burst out laughing.

- Yeah, so not a good sign. You were completely embarrassed and was wondering whether you could play it off like you were joking. Deciding that you couldn’t, you went to stand up and leave before she lunged forward, grabbing your hand quickly and exclaiming “no, no” as she tried to stop her laughter.

“I’m sorry, really. It’s just that, all day I’ve been wondering how I was gonna tell you that I liked you and, well, here we are.” She smiled, and ushered you to sit back down.

- The two of you had your first date in one of the towns many fields. You brought a basket full of stuff and sat out there for hours, having a picnic and overall just hanging out. She’s got about a dozen photos of the day.

- You had your first kiss at least a week after you first got together. Neither of you were brave enough to just go for it so it took you a while to actually do it.

- When you did, it was after the two of you snuck out together and were taking a late night walk through the town. You were sat on an old wooden fence, the moonlight shining above you as you talked. That was when you turned to look at each other and just began to lean in, inching closer and closer until your lips met.

- And thus began your strange and beautiful relationship.

- The two of you are most likely bambi lesbians; your relationship is fairly innocent and things never really get too hot or heavy. 

- It’s the 80s and you sort of live in a small town so you try to keep your relationship on the down low. Whenever you’re out in public, you try to just act like friends, never doin anything exclusively romantic in nature. 

- Holding hands, locking arms, hugging, sitting very close to each other; you can get away with a lot since you’re young girls but you try not to push your luck. 

- Most of your dates take place where there isnt a lot of; if any, people. She prefers keeping to herself so you wind up just hanging out at her place or places no one really goes, like the graveyard or forgotten roads.

- Pecks on the lips and cheeks.

- Sweet and chaste kisses. 

- Laying your head in her lap while you sit and talk. Occasionally, she’ll run her fingers through or just play with your hair, looking down at you with a soft smile. 

- She’s got soooo many photos of you. She likes to jokingly call you her muse, taking random snapshots while you’re doing something or asking you to pose for her. 

- Horror movie marathons. The two of you have stayed up late countless times, eyes wide and glued to her tv screen as you shovel popcorn into your mouths. 

- Riding your bikes together after school. Sometimes you’ll just ride around town, stopping at some random place you’ve never been to and going exploring together.

- Walks through and picnics in the graveyard. It’s one of her favorite places to visit except when its close to the anniversary of her mothers death. 

- Letting her talk to you about her mother and rant about Delia and her dad. 

- Meeting the Maitland's and her eccentric parents. They all love you and have a feeling that you aren’t “just friends”, not that it really matters to them anyways. Delia is particularly happy with the idea of you two being together, Lesbianism is so avant-garde. 

- Morbid conversations. Want to have an hour long conversation about death? Well, you’ve come to the right girl!

- You’ll never have to worry about getting rid of spiders again for the rest of your life. She’ll just scoop them up in her hand and gently place them outside while you trail hesitantly behind her. 

- Dancing together. 

- Surprisingly enough, she’s quite fond of being bridal carried or getting piggyback rides. 

- Getting to see all of her rare smiles and giggles, most of the time they’re reserved pretty much exclusively for you. 

- She doesn’t really use nicknames/pet names all that much but occasionally she’ll call you the name of a character from a movie or show when you say or do something that reminds her of them. 

- Collecting and pressing flowers with her. You help her swap out and rearrange the ones on her wall every few months. 

- She has a bit of a dramatic streak so occasionally you’ll just have to snap her out of it, either by cheering her up or helping to rationalize a situation.

- She loves rainy days. She likes to invite you over, sit up in her room and just hang out with you while the skies are a dreary gray. She finds the atmosphere very beautiful.

- Her room is perfect for afternoon naps. The two of you head over to her house after school, lock her bedroom door and pull the curtains down before snuggling under her covers and catching a few zzz’s.

- She’ll never admit it out loud but she actually really likes cuddling. You tend to cuddle hugging each other, taking turns having your heads resting against each other’s chests.

- She loves eating dinner or lunch at your house. Delia prepares the weirdest foods for everyone so being able to eat something like a normal turkey sandwich or bowl of soup is a nice change.

- Going to antique and thrift shops. If it looks haunted, she’ll want to buy it.

- Holidays!! She gets all festive around them; especially Halloween, always wanting to decorate and do the usual seasonal activities.

- Letting her style your hair. She finds it really fun and you certainly don’t mind looking a bit unusual.

- Gothic tea parties. Join her on her wooden floor, surrounded by black teddy bears and creepy dolls, eating little sandwiches and drinking tea.

- She likes to write you little poetic letters. Some are purely romantic while others are dreadfully depressing but you love them all the same.

- It’s pretty easy to find her presents; if it’s ugly then she’ll love it.

- Doing little crafts together. She likes artistic stuff, as long as it isn’t weirdly abstract like delias art.

- She tends to stick to compliments about the work that you do or the things you choose to wear. She prefers making you feel good about the stuff that you make not the things you were born with.

- Many people don’t seem to realize it but she’s got a pretty good sense of humor. That, paired with the shenanigans you get yourselves into, ensures that the two of you have a good time together!

- Getting dragged into supernatural and paranormal adventures. If it was her choice, she would probably leave you out of it, but alas, it isn’t.

- Beetlejuice is certainly an interesting individual to meet. Lydia is not fond of him calling you babe though, even if he calls everyone babe.

- She’s never really gets all that jealous. She reasons that you’re with her and if you’re with her, then you most likely like weird people, which you don’t find all that often where you live.

- She’s certainly been through some stuff, especially after moving to town so she’s fairly protective of you. Now that she knows the dead can linger on, she tries to look after you even more.

- She’s somewhat sensitive so she tends to take things to heart even when they’re misunderstandings.

- You dont fight a whole lot but when you do, your arguments wind up turning into catty yelling fights. One of you will usually storm out, throwing a “fine” or something of the sort out before you go.

- The two of you will give each other the silent treatment for a while but you’ll most likely be miserable the entire time. She’ll cave a little sooner than you will, finding you at school somewhere or being let in by your mom and just showing up at your bedroom door shyly. You both usually have a hard time staying mad at each other, once either of you apologize.

- She gives you a “love you” everytime you say goodbye. It’s pretty much routine by now.

- She doesn’t realize it for a while but ever since she met you, she hasn’t thought about dying. In fact, now that she has you, she can’t even bear to imagine it. She wouldn’t want to leave you behind, she loves you.

- Her one goal in life is to be the woman that historians say “lived with her lifelong best friend, never marrying or having children but writing letters to each other about loving each other fiercely”.

[playernumberv]

Returnal may be the best game I’ll probably end up leaving unfinished

But wait, I hear my imaginary audience ask - if a game is that good, how and why would I possibly leave it unfinished? And indeed, when I leave a game unfinished, it’s usually because I don’t have much good to say about it, and no longer deem it worthy of my time. I left Assassin’s Creed Valhalla unfinished after 30 hours in it, for example, because it just kept dragging on and on and on and I just got incredibly bored. That’s not the case with Returnal at all. 

In what has been for me a relatively lull year in games (with nothing having reached my personal standard for being a GOTY contender yet), Returnal has been the most compelling and fascinating title I’ve played. It is just utterly stellar. I love how intriguing the sci-fi psychological horror/thriller setting is, and while sparse, the little narrative there is compels me to want to find out more about Atropos and Selene. The third-person shooter combat is visceral and fluid, and is a mad rush of pure adrenaline and exhilaration that is complemented by an overwhelming smorgasbord of eye-melting visual effects. Audio design can only be described as majestic, with thunderous combat soundtracks that catalyze the already sky-high intensity of the game’s combat, and the deafening roar of enemy cries truly tear right into you, making you feel as if you were truly confronted by terrifying alien monstrosities. Level design and art design are similarly masterful, creating an alien world that genuinely feels alive and horrifying. And have I mentioned how indescribably good the dualsense implementation is? You can feel the pitter-patter of raindrops; you can feel the kinetic rush of dashing; you can feel the recoil of gunfire. If Astro’s Playroom was a technical demonstration of what the dualsense could be capable of, Returnal is an applied demonstration of how the dualsense can truly elevate gaming experiences. Every aspect of this game comes together and just oozes an unprecedented level of quality in the level of immersion it achieves - it bombards you with near-endless bursts of visual, auditory, as well as sensory feedback, and in so doing creates a truly next-gen gaming experience that feels extremely immersive. Short of VR experiences, I daresay no other game has ever come close to such an immaculate level of immersion, so much so that can say unironically that the game actually makes me feel like I’m stranded on an alien world.

Again I hear my imaginary audience ask - this makes no damn sense, if Returnal is as magnificent as I claim it to be, why would I leave it unfinished?

And to that, my answer is this: Returnal is simply far too punishing and inaccessible. For a working adult who—I’m ashamed to say, despite my immense love of games—isn’t especially skilled at gaming and who has relatively limited time and energy for gaming, Returnal simply demands far too much. It’s utterly soul-crushing. To begin with, I am not a fan of the repetitiveness of roguelikes, and even a roguelike as polished and well-designed as Hades did not especially impress me, as I mentioned in my earlier review of it. Yet Hades’ roguelike is, ironically enough, heavenly compared to the genuine hellishness of Returnal’s roguelike, where permanent upgrades are extremely scarce to the point of being nearly non-existent. Virtually everything resets with each death. Your weapons: gone, reduced to ashes. Your suit upgrades, health upgrades, all gone. And that may have been fine were the game itself not nail-bitingly hard—it’s not uncommon at all to have to spend an hour or even more on preparation, only for one small mistake to be severely punished before you even manage to reach the boss, and to have to restart from zero all over again. Furthermore, as is standard of the roguelike genre, there is a fair bit of randomness—and so how successful each run is may in part be determined by whether you luck out on obtaining the desired suit upgrades or your desired weapon. This randomness further compounds the amount of time that needs to be spent on preparing, failing, being unlucky, and trying all over again. That may have been fine once in a while, but repeat this cycle enough times, and Returnal becomes a miserable punishment. It’s utterly soul-crushing to have to waste hours on preparation, only to fail and have all the preparation completely reduced to nothing. And this isn’t even accounting for how gruellingly tough the boss fights can be. Returnal makes you squander hours upon hours—it severely punishes failure, to the point where its rewards, majestic though they are, become overshadowed by its punishment.

Yes, yes, I can already hear a portion of my imaginary audience chanting. ‘GIT GUD’, they say, and I don’t deny at all that I am not good at Returnal. But I am certain that there are other gamers, who like me, do not play games to be punished, challenged, and pushed to our limits—we play games for entertainment, for relaxation, and for escapism from the stresses and difficulties of the real world, something that may be especially important in the broken, pandemic-stricken world we live in currently. Returnal is the utter opposite of relaxation, and if a (mostly) healthy, able-bodied person like me finds it inaccessible, I imagine it to be even more so for a huge proportion of others out there. To be fair, I hesitate to call any of this a ‘flaw’ on the part of Returnal, and I do understand the sentiments of the ‘git gud’ crowd—there’s a strong charm to Returnal’s unflinching adherence to its vision, and its insistence on having an identity of relentlessness and challenge is in its own way very respectable and charismatic. I also do understand the immense elation and satisfaction of surmounting a seemingly-impossible challenge—beating the bosses of the first and second biomes of Returnal filled me with a raw euphoria no game has given me in ages. In part, having no recourse towards an easier way out is part of this charm. Knowing that one cannot simply choose an easier option, for there is none, truly does magnify the immense satisfaction of conquering a challenge.

With all that being said, I cannot help but think that sacrificing a small part of that charisma and charm in the noble pursuit of accessibility is a worthy cost. This need not even involve sacrificing the roguelike genre in favour of a more generic third-person action-adventure style of gameplay—although admittedly, given my general disdain for roguelikes, this would probably have been a better fit for me. I do have to say that the roguelike genre is perfect for Returnal. Its central narrative theme of being stranded on an alien planet where the main character returns by death—wait, wrong series—provides perfect ludonarrative harmony when melded with the roguelike genre, and this harmonious complementation between game-play and narrative is truly brilliant. Even maintaining its roguelike genre, I sincerely believe that Returnal could have been made to be substantially more accessible and less punishing, and to shift the mechanics away from randomness and towards granting more player control. Having difficulty options provide a convenient way to accomplish this, but I do believe the roguelike itself could also learn a number of lessons from Hades. For example, even maintaining its present difficulty levels, a larger number of permanent upgrades would go an incredibly long way in making Returnal’s roguelike far more meaningful and palatable. More forms of permanent suit or health upgrades, as well as more permanent weapons—being stuck with only a pistol at the start of every run is extremely unwelcome—would be immensely appreciable as well. Implementing these changes would indeed compromise some of Returnal’s unflinching and unrelenting vision. But would it not be a worthy trade-off if a greater number of people can experience the utter majesty of what Housemarque has accomplished here in terms of audio design, game design, art design, and narrative?

I truly am impressed by Returnal, and when awards season comes by at the end of the year, I think it unquestionably deserves every accolade it will almost surely obtain, be it in audio, narrative, or gameplay. It is the best game I’ve played this entire year so far, and even as I type this, I feel a rush of sheer awe at just how unbelievably excellent Returnal is. Unfortunately, my affections for Returnal feel unrequited. My circumstances and my relative incompetence as a gamer make it near-impossible for me to ever experience in full all that Returnal has to offer, despite my great desire to be able to. So, it seems, despite my deep affections for Returnal, I may never finish it, and I will think back to this years later with deep regret, wishing that I were in more suitable circumstances, wishing that I were a better gamer, and wishing that Returnal could have been more accessible. Alas, these wishes were not to be.

[highkeyweeb]

Debunking Edens Zero Misconceptions

With the recent announcement of the Edens Zero anime I keep seeing the same questions, confusions, and common misconceptions on absolutely every platform I go on. I thought it’d be helpful to compile them all in one place and try to clear up some things people genuinely seem to be confused about. With Edens Zero being the third work from Mashima, it’s subject to some... opinionated responses. I wanted to create a list of actual facts and information because it’s important for others to be able to learn about it without the individual biases of internet haters / supporters being involved.

If there are any questions you yourself have, or others that you’ve seen commonly asked or given incorrect responses to, feel free to leave a reply and I’ll try to update the list when I get the chance. Also, feel free to share this with anyone you know who might be confused or need clarification, the more factual information we can spread the better.

Lastly, I’ll be staying as spoiler free with this as possible, so if you’ve never seen Edens Zero, or are contemplating watching it, this won’t spoil anything plot wise whatsoever. If anything, I think it would be helpful to read this before getting into the series so you’ll be somewhat prepared for what you’ll see, but that’s up to you.

This is gonna be a monster of a post, so check it out under the cut below!

[Updated: Jan 20, 2021]

Just a tiny disclaimer: I’m not going to be answering questions such as “is this as good as Fairy Tail?” or “is the story writing better than Fairy Tail’s?” because that is extremely subjective. I can make a post similar to this one about my feelings about the series in response to questions like that if anyone is interested, but at least here, I’m aiming to be as factual as possible.

Why does this look like Fairy Tail?

I’ll be honest, it was hard to choose a first question to start this out with. But I believe that this is the best possible place to start.

The reason that Edens Zero looks similar to Fairy Tail (in terms of art style) is because the authors of both series’ are the same guy: Hiro Mashima. Just by looking at Edens Zero, there are notable similarities stylistically and character design wise in relation to some of his older works. So that’s where that familiar feeling is coming from when you look at Edens Zero.

Why are some of the characters in Edens Zero the same as characters in Fairy Tail?

Short answer: They’re not.

Long answer: There are characters in Edens Zero that are specifically designed to resemble characters from Fairy Tail. It’s not coincidence, or even a lack of creativity. Mashima would like people to be able to make connections and draw similarities between the characters of all his works. That being said, he makes sure to include differences between them so that his audience knows they are not the same characters.

If you’re concerned about the personalities of the characters in Edens Zero closely relating to those of Fairy Tail characters, then the series has already given us little to no need to worry. Where a character may fall short of a completely unique design, they often make up for it with their distinct personality and their backstory. A character that has a striking resemblance to one you already know might be an entirely different person in Edens Zero.

So when you look at the protagonists of the series, and they remind you of some familiar faces, those familiar faces are exactly who Mashima wants you to think about. But that isn’t to say they are mere “clones” of the people who came before them. And that goes for more than just the protagonists actually, but they’re the most notable similarities early on.

Is the Happy in Edens Zero the same Happy as the one in Fairy Tail?

No, the Happy in Edens Zero is NOT the same Happy as the one in Fairy Tail. Yes they have the same name and similar designs, but they are different people (cats?) with different backstories and different companions.

Why is Happy even in Edens Zero?

He’s the companion character. Mashima dabbled with making him a different species, but ended up settling on a classic fan favorite design. He sees Happy sort of like his mascot, since he has now represented both Fairy Tail and Edens Zero.

If you look closely, there are other non human characters who pop up from Fairy Tail, as well as Mashima’s eldest animated series, Rave Master.

Does Edens Zero happen in the same universe as Fairy Tail? Alternate universe? (Fairy Tail in space? Fairy Tail in the future?)

The Fairy Tail and Edens Zero universes are completely separate. Edens Zero is not a Fairy Tail time skip, nor are any of the characters in any way related to Fairy Tail characters. (If me hinting at it wasn’t enough: Eden’s Zero is not Fairy Tail Next Generation)

Alas, that would mean that the male protagonist is not the secret love child of Natsu and Gray, but you’re free to write as much fanfiction about that as you like!

Is Edens Zero a continuation/spin-off/reboot/sequel to Fairy Tail?

Edens Zero is a fully original work, unrelated to the story of Fairy Tail. (Does it feel like the millionth time I’ve said that, because it should). So no, it’s not a continuation. Edens Zero also doesn’t qualify to be a spin off because it’s not a subset of Fairy Tail; it isn’t the Fairy Tail story or world twisted / changed in any way because Edens Zero is a standalone piece. 

It also stands to reason that based on everything I’ve already said, it isn’t a Fairy Tail reboot either. Edens Zero will take you on a completely different story, because the two series’ aren’t linked. And finally, no, Edens Zero is not a sequel to Fairy Tail because guess what? Fairy Tail actually has a canon sequel! It’s a biweekly manga series that goes by the name ‘Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest’. So logically, Edens Zero can’t be a Fairy Tail sequel when one already exists.

(Also, per the dictionary definition of the word “ripoff” – an act or instance of stealing off of another – Edens Zero doesn’t qualify. You can’t really steal something you already own.) 

End Note:

Edens Zero is the third work from Hiro Mashima getting an anime, and it’s understandable that there’s a lot of confusion around it. Especially after the PV dropped and it was clear that the art style was very similar. And not to mention everyone losing their minds when they saw Happy in this strange new world. All of a sudden it raises these questions and there isn’t really a definitive place to get answers. 

At this point I’m sure I sound like a broken record. But I’ll repeat these things as many times as needed to clear up the misconceptions and misinformation being spread around. As new people get introduced to Edens Zero, they will likely be asking these same questions for years to come. So I found it useful to just try and catch the problem now while it’s still new.

If the day ever does come where Mashima tells us it was all a hoax, everything was a lie, and he was playing us like an instrument the entire time... then I’ll be sure to update this.

Again, there are probably plenty of questions that I never touched on so feel free to comment anything else you or others need clarification on! I was doing some research for this and wow, Google really isn’t spoiler free, is it? Which is obvious, because it’s just a machine, but I hate that even if someone wants more information on something, looking it up is out of the question because that would give them spoilers about some pretty crucial plot details. That makes me feel awful, as a person who absolutely hates spoilers. So I want this to be a compact, spoiler free, factually based post about a lot of the common questions in the Edens Zero fandom.

Thanks for reading!! 

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (4/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

So here is the next chapter of division of labor. I had intended to drop it today for a long time. I didn't expect it to coincide with leaks so sorry for the slight mood whiplash.

Anyway, thank you to the anons on tumblr for asking about this fic. I still find it pretty surreal that people actually think about my work, let alone send asks about it.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Having lived alone for all of his high school life and some of his middle school life, Levi was sure of one thing.

Cooking is fun. Except when it is graded.

In fact, nothing can be fun when someone is behind them watching their every move telling them their performance in that one activity can determine a grade and that grade can determine their future. As Levi and Hange surveyed the ingredients in front of them, Erwin was behind them. Of all the workstations he had chosen to hang out in, it happened to be theirs.

As Levi looked at the other workstations, he could see Nanaba to his left already cracking two eggs into a bowl next to Mike. Bertholdt who was working in front of them with his pair Reiner was already cutting up what looked like cheese cubes. To his right was his own pair Hange who was shaking the eggs to her ear.

“Just to check if they’re boiled,” she explained. Levi did not even notice he had given her a judgemental look until she avoided his gaze looking a little self conscious.

Of course they wouldn’t be boiled. They were supposed to be doing everything from scratch. Why did he and Hange in particular look the most clueless? Why weren’t they doing anything? Levi looked behind him again to see Erwin still staring at both of them. I’m not clueless. Levi had to remind himself. He preplanned and prepared meals multiple times a week. He could make anything from the ingredients laid out in front of him. Eggs. Cheese. Celery. Instant noodles.

Why the hell is there instant noodles. What am I supposed to be making?

That ordeal only fueled his hatred for surprise tasks. He hated pop quizzes. Particularly because he had the cursed history of not knowing exactly what would be asked during the actual quizzes but having comprehensive knowledge in another facet of whatever topic they discussed in class. At that moment, he could have gladly given an oral exam about why exactly putting a washing machine in the bathroom was a good idea. Hange probably would have been able to do a practical exam or presentation explaining why a rent-to-own scheme was the best option for homeowners.

Both he and Hange though, probably spent at the most ten minutes running through that meal plan which was biting them so painfully in the ass at that moment. On top of that, the restrictions were ridiculous and unnecessary.

“No checking the recipe?” It was Connie that time towards the front of the room who was protesting the ridiculous restriction put on them. “I thought you’re supposed to be simulating adulthood. In real life everyone could just research the recipes? ”

“What if you don’t have wifi but you have eggs and vegetables in front of you and you need to cook breakfast?” Erwin challenged.

“We’ll have recipe books.” Sasha answered.

Erwin raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the Connie and Sasha pair. “Will your current financial situation allow that?”

Levi found some solace in Erwin’s comment. Maybe, just maybe that meant that they weren’t the only pair currently burning in hell financially in this little game of adulting. He looked to Hange and the face she made as Erwin had said the words `current financial situation’ and “allow” in the same sentence, Levi guessed that Erwin’s comment probably applied to them as a pair too.

“It is important at least for all of you to know the basics of cooking a nice meal even without the recipe.

Levi sighed. He lived alone and he knew they didn’t need it. Levi had a recipe book for easy recipes at home and almost always had wifi anyway. Nobody actually needed to memorize recipes. He was aware though of the culture of schools to know that schools always made things harder than they were supposed to be.

At least when you’re in the real world, things will be so much easier because you’ve had it hard already. Some teachers would defend. Making things unnecessarily hard though wasn’t at all an effective way to get people good at things. Sometimes, making things unnecessarily hard only left students with chronic unresolved tensions with certain formulas, academic concepts and sometimes even mundane objects they had encountered too many times in an academic setting. In fact, he started to feel the beginnings of it when he encountered washing machines and Japanese style house designs while he went grocery shopping that weekend. A few times he also could have sworn he’d seen Hange recoil at hearing the words ‘debit’ and ‘credit.’

“Maybe we should boil the eggs?” Hange lined up the ingredients on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Levi asked, or more specifically panicked. Around him he could see the others already turning on the stove. Watching Hange observe the ingredients was only a grave reminder of their own incompetence.

“I’m just trying to arrange the ingredients in different ways. Maybe a good idea will come to mind.” She paused for a second. “Scrambled eggs?”

"Hear me out Hange, what if it isn't scrambled eggs." The ingredients all pointed to scrambled eggs or an omelette. In front of them there was a pan, a skillet, eggs, butter and vegetables. That seemed like the most reasonable option. Having taken tests and quizzes for most of his life though, Levi was a master of the art of ‘doubting one’s self’ in high pressure situations where every decision equated to a deduction. “Why is there a pack of instant noodles?” Whether he had intended to or not, Levi had ended up saying his thoughts out loud.

Hange paused for a second, pressing her thumb to her lips in thought, her eyes completely fixed on the pack of instant noodles in front of her. She looked like she was starting to doubt herself too. “You’re right. Levi, why are there instant noodles? Didn’t you make the meal plan?”

“Didn’t you check it?”

“I did check it. If i remember correctly, there was a recipe for scrambled eggs. But there should have been vegetables.” Hange brought the instant noodles pack closer to her and closely read through it. “Wait a minute. This is chow mein? I thought chow mein was a type of vegetable. Why the hell would you put instant noodles in scrambled eggs?”

Instant noodles and scrambled eggs. For some reason, it hadn’t clicked when all he saw were the ingredients in front of him. With Hange bringing up the two key ingredients of eggs and instant noodles, he started to remember what revisions he had made to that particular recipe. “It’s cheaper to make omelette rice with instant noodles than with actual rice.” He admitted lightly.

“Levi! We’re graded for nutritional value. Did you not read the rubrics?”

Levi looked away. In fact he had failed to read the rubrics. “Weren’t you supposed to be checking my work?

“I did check it.”

“Then why did you think chowmein is a type of vegetable? Aren’t you a fan of botany?”

“Levi there are at least one thousand vegetables to think of. You can’t expect me to keep track of all of them.”

Levi then realized that maybe having too much information in one’s brain was a little disadvantageous. Hange may be right that there are thousands of types of vegetables in the world. Levi was sure though that only at least fifty of those types would have been available in an average supermarket. You don’t really go grocery shopping much do you? A part of him had wanted to criticize her and maybe start a little argument.

The clatter of pots and pans around him and the urgent sounding voices was only telling him one thing, time was running. They had to churn something up or risk failing that quiz. He wished at least he could have double checked the rubrics. Alas, their phones were in their bags, all gathered towards the front of the rooms. All they had armed with them then was their procedural memory and the many ingredients in front of them.

Maybe, just maybe though we could do a little improvisation. Levi made eye contact with Hange as he said it. It looked like she had read his mind, Hange reached out for the instant noodles in front of him, ready to slip the pack silently into her pocket.

“If I find out any of you revised any of your recipes or you miss out on one ingredient, expect a 50% deduction for this test,” Erwin announced from behind them.

Within a second, the pack of instant noodles was back on the table and that flash of understanding between Levi and Hange had changed to one of horror and panic. Did he notice?

“Marco, I really cannot remember why the hell I needed so many of these spices in the first place.” Jean said apologetically from his station to their right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked your mom to make the meal plan in the first place then.” Marco sounded surprisingly pissed.

At least they weren’t the only one in hell’s kitchen.

                                  Division of Labor

By some silent agreement, all meetings with his actual friends were cancelled. It was as if everyone in the room had unanimously decided to make up for that disaster of a kitchen quiz by working on the next deliverable days before it was due. It was as if everyone was sure they had failed Erwin’s little pop quiz

Or long test. Erwin though never gave the breakdown of how much of their grade that disaster in the kitchen was. Levi found some assurance at least in the fact that everyone did look as unsure as they were about it. They can’t fail the whole class right?

Either way, a failing grade is still a failing grade. Levi and Hange had gone for the plan of omelette rice having kept the instant noodles revision. And with nutritional value a 60% of their grade for the actual meal plan, their expectations for their grades were low. On the bright side at least, Erwin said that there would be more pop quizzes in the kitchen, so they just had to memorize the recipe of whatever they put in the meal plan the next time around.

It would be painstaking, Levi was sure. But as students he and Hange had been forced to memorize formulas, kingdoms and phyla, vocabulary words, thesis statements, poems and dialogues. That should be nothing. Levi though had a building resentment for the subject, particularly the fact that no one had prepared them for that type of stress at all. None of the seniors ever had to do this type of program and thus, Levi was completely unprepared mentally for ‘adulting.’

Welcome to adulthood. That was what was written on the top of the questionnaire he and Hange were supposed to be submitting by Friday midnight. It was Wednesday afternoon of that week and he was grateful Hange had even suggested they start earlier. Only that morning, Erwin had submitted a new list of deliverables which seemed more comprehensive than the last.

September*

Week 1

Meal Plan

Investment Plan Part I: Disposable Income

Pop quiz

Week 2

Education Plan for Kids

Module 2 (See attached fail)

Pop quiz

Week 3 - 4

TBA

While Hange answered some of the questions on the questionnaire, Levi could only stare at the module in his email. He had promised Hange he would look into it while she filled out her part of the questionnaire. His eyes though were stuck on the little typo

Fail. He was sure Erwin meant file. In that type of module though, he would consider that typo almost fatal since the whole program was already screaming the words ‘failure’ at him.

He had to note at least that Erwin put the words pop quiz there for every week. He couldn’t help but think it was due to the fact that everyone had failed that last cooking exam and that was a sign of some mercy on the teacher’s side.

He clicked the module below the email to find that the file was too large at least for google to open. Oh, I guess it’s too large to open on my phone. It might slow it down after all. A petty excuse but he was just tired and instead decided to entrust the responsibility of opening said document to the Levi of a few hours later who would be in front of an actual computer.

“The file is too big to open on my phone. Sorry, I didn’t think about bringing my laptop today.” Levi’s words weren’t too sincere. A part of him was telling him never to bring his laptop on campus in the first place and was thankful for that bout of irresponsibility. Delaying the inevitable at present is always such a sweet feeling after all.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t too hard to fill out what’s needed. We just needed to assign rooms for Flora and Fauna…” Hange started looking pointedly at the flour babies who were leaning by the window of the diner they started to frequent. “Then break down our budget for other things like furniture, groceries, household necessities…”

She slid the paper over to Levi. As if by magic, his brain just shut down at seeing the numbers out there. A part of him though, a more tenacious part was nagging at him to comment at the computations in front of him.

He focused on the words not the numbers. There were calculations for household necessities like detergent and cleaning wax, groceries, baby stuff, utility bills. Somehow it was only making Levi feel more useless for not even understanding what she was writing.

So you have to comment. Levi willed himself to open his mouth and rack his brain for something reasonable and useful to say. Those thoughts on his end all culminated to two words. “Washing machine... “

“What? You’re still not over that?”

“You really don’t want the washing machine in the bathroom?”

“Levi, we’ve been over this!” Hange said, looking exasperated. Within a split second, her look softened into something else then within a second twisted into what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I don’t think we even have the money to pay for that in installments now. But hey, a washing machine isn’t a necessity right? Like handwashing is still a thing.”

Levi didn’t agree. He knew in the back of his mind that anything that made cleaning easier was a necessity. Hange though had made the calculations and as a form of respect for her hardwork and a punishment for himself and his inability to have been of any use with that questionnaire, he kept quiet.

He just had to trust her. Group works were all about trust after all.

                                      Division of Labor

“Your answers were all a fucking mess. If adulting was a war, none of you would make it back alive. All of you will starve with your shitty planning and resource conserving skills.” Shadis waved a wad of papers so magnificently over his head as he slammed them on the table. “I want to hear your justifications for making such idiotic decisions. Maybe that can bring up your grade to a D at least.”

“Blouse Springer!”

“Yes sir!” Sasha stood up instinctively.

“Connie join your partner!”

“We have to sta---?” Connie’s eyes widened as if he realized a second later the disrespect in what he had just said. He stood up a split second after. “Yes sir!”

“Tell me again. What are your jobs?”

Connie looked at the documents and back at him. “Is what we put in the document… wrong… sir?”

“What. Are. Your. Jobs?”

Sasha and Connie exchanged glances and looked back up at him. “I’m a marketing specialist…” Connie started. “And Sasha---”

“Journalist sir.”

“So you have eight to five jobs right?”

“Yes we do,” Connie answered.

“And three kids?”

The two nodded in sync. “Yes sir,” Sasha said. “Or that’s what I remember…” In fact, she shouldn’t have had to recall that. The three flour sacks were on their desk after all. “Did we miss one?”

Shadis ignored them. “Then why did you tick ‘no babysitter’ here?”

“Are we supposed to tick it sir?” Connie asked. A brave question that had everyone in the classroom more silent than they had been a second ago.

“You have eight to five jobs and three children. So are you telling me you will take the kids to work?

“Are we allowed? The fee for a babysitter everyday just seems… extravagant.”

That wasn’t the right word. The right word was exorbitant. As some of the people in the class would have agreed. Many could see though that Connie was shaking at the incessant questions and that should have been the last of his concerns.

Shadis though seemed unpreturbed at the wrong word choice. “Well what if your boss doesn’t allow you to bring three kids to work?”

“Then we leave them at home?”

“And you know that’s illegal?”

The silence in the room had become deafening.

“You can be sued for child neglect,” Shadis expounded

“But how would they know?” It was a bold question from Connie

The room exploded in hesitant mutters only silenced a second later by Shadis’ eerily cold reply. “Social workers are very perceptive people, Connie. I’m surprised you’re even underestimating them. Be ready to pay attorney dues for this.” He wrote something on the paper on his desk which was probably Connie and Sasha’s submission before pushing it to the bottom of the pile.

“Next pair…Ackerman Zoe. Stand up.”

By lunchtime, Levi was in a trance, a very strong strance. He did not even notice the students who had filed out of the classroom for lunch, his eyes completely fixed on the beautiful view of the school courtyard as the leaves started to change color.

That was not what he was admiring though. He wasn’t actually admiring anything. Although his eyes were fixed at such a beautiful view, his brain had done nothing to process it.

“So… You wanna talk about the next output?” That familiar voice sounded like a screech to Levi and it was more than enough to pull him out.

“We are so fucked.” Levi’s words were almost instinctive. It was as if just hearing Hange’s voice sent his whole body into panic mode. Of course he would, having just been grilled by Shadis and having one’s incompetence exposed could do that to anyone.

“There’s an output every week. We’ll be fine,” Hange assured.

Levi could only stare at Hange. He had know idea what kind of face he was making. All he could think then though was the fact that she out of the two of them should have been in a worse state of panic than he was.

And her calm ironically only stressed him out further. Having been reeling from the stress of it for almost four hours, Levi still remembered their exchange perfectly.

"Okay Ackerman… Just a homemaker. And Zoe. You’re working freelance?

"So Levi and I decided that I'll be a scientist and he'll take care of the house," Hange had said so confidently.

"What about taxes?"

“Taxes?”

“I looked at the breakdown of your budget Zoe. You didn’t mention anything about taxes.”

“I’m freelance sir.”

“Zoe, has it ever occured to you that freelancers pay taxes too?”

And their lesson of the day came soon after that exchange. The tasks were detailed and demanded a lot of thought. Through all they had learned over that one painful exchange and maybe through the glimpses of the next few exchanges he had so half heartedly watched, he had learned a lot.

He could have easily summarized it all into one sentence though. Do not take Erwin's tasks with a grain of salt.

Erwin had thought everything through. It could have been by coincidence or it could have also been just a lack of thought on the side of the students but somehow the set up Erwin had was exposing the weaknesses of the students when it came to learning, and possibly their potential weaknesses when it comes to actual adulting.

"I’m deducting the taxes already."

"You heard Shadis, It's too late the hypothetical government is out to get us.” Levi added the word hypothetical to at least help himself bask in the fact that it was still a simulation. “We’re getting penalized.”

Hange smiled wryly. “Fine, we’re kinda financially… going through a rough patch,” She admitted. “But we’re not the only ones going through this type of financial bump. Eren and Mikasa, Sasha and Connie, Reiner and Bertholdt, Petra and Oluo…” Hange trailed off. “I mean okay Armin and Annie looked like they were doing fine but back in the supermarket, they looked kinda confused too.”

“A failing grade is a failing grade.”

“But Levi, they can’t fail the whole class.” Hearing that Hange was somehow very reassuring.

Hange was right. Teachers can’t fail a whole class and Levi was aware of two methods teachers tend to employ when dealing with an underperforming class: employ a curve or give extra credit.

Levi should have known though from his short yet very tumultuous few weeks with that adulting program that a curve would have seemed a little too merciful for their teachers.

With the uncomfortable look Erwin gave the class, Levi was sure at least a majority of the class had fucked up financially. How exactly, he was unsure.

Right after they had finished their own mini oral exam, Levi had fallen into a trance. A trance, trying to think up a back up life just in case he never manages to graduate high school or make it to college.

Misery though loves company. Especially when it’s a whole class failing. Levi was not the type to want to wish misfortune on anyone else. Being as completely idiotic and dense as he and Hange were though, Levi found himself grateful for the unfortunate situation the class found themselves in,

“It looks like a lot of you are struggling financially. Zeke and I had a quick talk about this actually…”

Levi’s blood ran cold at the name, Zeke. At that point, he didn’t know if he hated Zeke or he hated Math. Looking back at Zeke’s unfavorable personality, he was guessing probably both.

“And we realized it would be beneficial if we introduce the possibility of finding other sources of income which would be a good lesson in financial management.”

There were some sighs of disappointment among the class. Levi empathized. In fact, he probably would have joined them as well if he weren’t so jaded by the course of events already. Still, a small part of him had hoped as well that they would just raise their salaries.

That was the equivalent of a curve though and Levi somehow knew, grading on the curve was just not Erwin’s style.

“So I am introducing two options to increase your income. One is through investments which will be taught by Zeke another day and another one is through this ‘new system’ I thought out.” Erwin looked a little too proud of that ‘new system.’

“We will be offering extra tasks you may choose to take around the school, these include cleaning, admin tasks, lab work and anything else the teachers may need help done. Each task will have a corresponding pay which can be added to your income for that month.”

So it’s exploitable free labor. Levi thought to himself. He was sure he wasn’t the only one thinking of that. Everyone in the room was desperate though. In the end, despite the questionable set up, it had come out looking like a gesture of generosity from their teacher. Levi saw that in the way a lot of the students around him looked relieved to hear that announcement.

“Or we can just choose to budget within our means?” Annie spoke up from her place on the front next to Armin. She was notably calmer than a lot of people in the room. Levi had suspected for a while though that Armin and Annie weren’t in as much trouble financially.

“I’m sure though a lot of you would want to earn more money,” Erwin said, a knowing smile on his face. “You can exchange these for this thing I will be introducing called ‘disposable income tokens’ and if you collect enough, you can get a free ticket out of doing one of the modules or the pop quizzes of the week of your choice.”

[floralguccistyles]

six: imperial death march

I had always found the bright yellow walls of Doctor Thorne’s office comforting.

My first appointment with Doctor Thorne, the walls had been the first thing I noticed. I had never been to a therapist before, although I probably should have when I was younger. Doctor Thorne wasn’t an intimidating woman by any means, but I think the idea of having to see a therapist was daunting enough for me to be terrified walking into her office on that first day. I had been expecting clinical and sleek. Instead, the walls were yellow, she had colorful art littered around the room, and the chair I sat in was velvet and blue. 

I was sitting in that chair now, ankles crossed and body sat up straight to assure her I was listening.

“Has he tried to contact you since?”

Right. The topic of conversation had, inevitably, strayed to Harry. Just as I had gotten over talking about the trauma he caused me in secondary school, he had appeared back into my life, seemingly intent on proving that he had changed. Doctor Thorne didn’t mind. But I did. I felt like I was allowing him to invade into my thoughts. Last session, we had talked about my small bout of insecurity when I had run into Jeff and Glenne, and now we were discussing how I felt when Harry contacted me about the Lord of the Rings books, which had been about two weeks ago. 

“No.”

“Do you think you’ll respond if he does?”

I didn’t know the answer to that. Honestly, I think it would depend on my mood. If I was having a good day, I might have replied. It would have been short and not very communicative, but I had told him on his birthday that I hated holding onto this anger and hurt and I had meant it. But I also hadn’t forgotten the many nights I had spent crying over him and his friends. I told Doctor Thorne as much. “I don’t know, honestly. I want to get over this, but...it’s difficult.”

“I’m not expecting you to find it easy. Ultimately, the choice is up to you, Petra. If you decide it’s best for your mental health that you want Harry out of your life, you get to make that choice. If he’s changed, like he said he has, he’ll understand.”

Doctor Thorne was right, as always. Lately, we had been working hard on putting myself first without feeling like it was selfish for me to do so. It was taking some work, but I think with Melody and Doctor Thorne, I was getting better at it.

I left Doctor Thorne’s office with the promise of seeing her two weeks from today. Her office was fifteen minutes from the yoga place Melody and I usually attended, so I usually took the tube there. I would be going to yoga alone today. Melody usually joined me, since she had the time slot right before me at Doctor Thorne’s office, but she had to rush out and get back to work because Trennan had, like usual, messed something up and needed her help. That meant it was me, the tube, and the small cereal bar I had in my purse in for the long haul.

When I walked into 360 Yoga Fitness Center and Spa about twenty minutes later, the woman behind the front desk smiled at me. She was used to me coming every time I had a therapy appointment. She signed me in easily and I made my way into the usual yoga room, setting my mat down on the floor and taking the time before class started to stretch. Melody had texted her apologies for not being able to make it earlier, but I honestly didn’t mind doing yoga alone. I would have preferred having her here with me, but there was something relaxing about it just being me alone with my thoughts.

My phone buzzed quietly from my bag. As there were only a couple people in the room and the instructor wasn’t in yet, I figured it was okay to check it really quickly. Pulling it out of my bag (and remembering to silence the alert vibration while I was at it), I spotted the message from Harry easily enough.

harrystyles: What are you doing today?

He must have had burning ears. I stared at the message for a second, crinkling my nose in distaste. I hadn’t been lying to Doctor Thorne when I had mentioned Harry hadn’t tried to get in contact with me since those messages about Lord of the Rings, but to be completely honest, I didn't expect him to try it again. I had hoped my running into Harry and his new friends might have been a part of my life that was slowly coming to a close, but alas, I guessed wrong.

Not bothering to respond, I tossed my phone back into my bag as the instructor walked in. Hopefully Harry would get the hint that I didn’t exactly want to talk to him. 

“Good morning everyone!” My instructor said, much too peppy for my taste but that was because Melody usually made everything a little more palatable. “We’re going to start nice and easy today. Let’s go ahead and do some basic stretches first.”

I was happy that none of the poses during the hour long class were too difficult, like some of them had been in the past. Once the session was over, I packed up my stuff, sweating from every pore I could ever imagine on my body, and pulled out my phone to text Melody that I was on my way to my flat in case she wanted to come over after fixing whatever Trennan had managed to muck up. 

harrystyles: It’s important, promise.

I rolled my eyes. Nothing could be more important than the hour-long shower I was going to take when I returned to my flat. The passengers on the tube looked at me with wrinkled noses because I was sure I smelled less than pleasant, but I didn’t care. Once the twenty-three minute ride was done, I hopped out and immediately beelined for my shower, waving quickly to Ms. Wilcox as I passed. 

Shedding my clothes almost immediately, I hopped into my shower and started scrubbing my skin vigorously. Melody had a key to the flat, so I wasn’t worried about her not being able to get in if she came around, so I decided to take my time and maybe shave my legs. It had, admittedly, been a while since the task had been done. I had long since been out of actual shaving cream, so I just lathered my generic body wash onto my leg, the smell of vanilla overpowering my senses. My razor was in my hand, dragging up my leg when I heard the knock on the door.

It made me jump, and consequently, cut my leg. It started bleeding almost immediately, and I threw the razor onto my soap dish and started cursing at it. The water cascaded over the cut, providing a little stinging sensation but not nearly enough for it to be super painful.

“Coming!” I shouted, turning off the shower. I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on my bathrobe. My plasters were in my kitchen cabinet, so my leg would bleed until I could get the door and hobble to the cabinet. “Shit,” I groaned when I stepped out of the shower, nearly slipping on the water that had sloshed onto my floor in my haste to get out.

I made it to my front door with minimal injuries, despite the fact that blood was now dripping down my leg at an alarming rate. When I pulled the door open, I can honestly say that seeing Harry Styles with two iced coffees in his hand was the last thing I expected to see.

“Hi, sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me, but—” he cut himself off, eyes actually zeroing in on what I was wearing. “What are you doing?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing? I was mid-shower, you asshole.”

“You’re bleeding,” he announced stupidly, his eyes locked on the blood on my leg. It was really unfair how much blood came out of a razor cut. I didn’t even feel the sting of it anymore, but the amount of blood it was producing was as if someone had taken a hammer to it. “What happened?”

“Christ, just come in.” I grabbed his wrist, the one holding the iced coffee with the least amount of liquid in it, and pulled him roughly inside my flat, closing the door behind him. While he stood dumbfounded in my foyer, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a plaster. “Why are you here, Harry? And how did you even get my address?” Lifting my leg onto the counter, I wiped the blood away with a wet paper towel.

“You weren’t answering my messages. I asked Bailey for your address.” He appeared in my kitchen suddenly, setting the coffees on the counter. “Is your leg okay?” 

And then, with a delicateness I wasn’t aware he would even possess, he gently put his hand on the back of my knee, inspecting the cut. It was starting to turn red with blood again, so he reached out his hand to grab the plaster between my fingers. “Stay still,” he ordered, tongue poking out a little in concentration. He folded back the plastic on the plaster and methodically stuck it to the cut on my shin, patting it with his finger once he was done. “There.”

I didn’t bother saying thanks, due to the fact that I still didn’t know why he was here and I briefly had lost my breath. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your shower, but you weren’t responding and I knew you’d hate me forever if I didn’t tell you. John Williams is at the studio I normally record at, and he wants to meet me.”

It took me a few seconds to process what Harry had said. My thoughts were still on the gentleness in which he had applied the plaster to my cut. When his words did catch up to my brain, my eyes widened. “John Williams is in your studio?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Jeff’s with him now. But he’s only going to be there for another thirty minutes, so we’ve got to go.”

“John Williams,” I repeated, just to confirm, “as in the guy who did the musical scores for Jaws, Indiana Jones, and the entire Star Wars series?”

“Yes, Petra. So get clothes on and let’s go!”

Normally, I would never voluntarily put myself in a car with Harry Styles. It was setting myself up for nothing but negative emotions and feeling bad about myself. But this was John Williams he was talking about. The guy who single-handedly made some of my favorite movies awesome because of his incredible music scores. 

Which is the only reasonable explanation that I shouted “OH MY GOD!” in Harry’s face before making a beeline towards my room.

My hair still had conditioner in it, my legs were only half shaved, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t rinsed all the soap off my arms, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

I threw the towel on my head somewhere on the floor of my room and slammed the door shut so I could strip off my bathrobe. I figured with my hair still wet and me generally looking like a wet rat, there would be no problem with wearing casual clothes. Plus, Harry had been in jeans, a graphic shirt, and Vans. Hurriedly drying my legs off so they wouldn’t stick when I tried to slip into jeans, I slid them up and over my thighs with only minimal stomping around. I briefly debated on wearing a Star Wars shirt, but figured that was maybe a little too “crazy fangirl” so I settled on a striped shirt with a bralette under it. 

“Petra, we’ve go to go!”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth! I can’t meet John Williams without having brushed my teeth!”

“I have Listerine strips in my car!”

Figuring that was the best I was going to get, I slipped my feet into Vans without even bothering to put socks on (which I would scold myself for later, but John Williams was waiting) and ran into the living room, where Harry was staring at the picture on my little shelf.

It was when my grandmother had come to visit. She had her arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought I was going to pass out, but I hadn’t ever wanted her to let go. She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes so brown they almost looked black. “Is that your grandmother?” he asked, touching the corner of the frame reverently, like it was a piece of artwork he needed to preserve. 

“Yeah.” I swallowed roughly. I never really looked closely at the picture because it always made my eyes fill with tears. It reminded me that I’d probably never see her again, or see Cuba in my lifetime. “Her name’s Yelina.”

“You look like her.”

I wasn’t emotionally ready to unpack that statement, especially with Harry. “Let’s go.”

Harry drove an ostentatious and expensive looking Mercedes Benz. I couldn’t decide if the color was a very light gray or light blue, but I didn’t pause to debate over it too much before I was yanking the door open and plopping myself down into his passenger seat. He made his way to the driver’s side way too slowly for my taste, but he eventually wiggled into the driver’s seat and handed me the iced coffee he had gotten for me. “I didn’t know what you usually drink, so I just got you the same thing I get.”

It was coffee, but I could taste lots of caramel and vanilla in it as well. It was a little too sweet for my taste, but it would do. Also, the more I drank it, the less I had to talk to Harry. That was a win-win for me.

Harry looked over at me and grinned. “Your hair is still dripping.”

“I look terrible and I’m about to meet John Williams,” I commented, letting out a nervous laugh and taking another long sip of the coffee.

“You look beautiful, Petra.”

I looked over to him and snorted. His mouth turned down at the corners when he heard the sound. “Harry Styles calling me beautiful? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well I was an asshole when I was younger. You’ve always been beautiful.”

The lump in my throat made it hard to talk. So I didn’t try. I simply leaned back in my seat and stared out the window, avoiding Harry’s gaze and the tension that sat between us. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and I wondered if he was thinking about all the shit he had said to me when we were younger.

Harry’s studio was about ten minutes away driving, which left us about twenty minutes to meet John. When Harry pulled into the parking lot, I had to restrain myself from throwing the door open before he’d come to a full and complete stop. He handed me a Listerine package and I took two, barely even noticing the stinging taste of the alcohol as I ran my tongue back and forth over them to get them to dissolve faster. Then we were out of the car and walking towards the building, Harry slipping shades on over his face despite the fact that it wasn’t sunny out. I wondered if he knew that putting sunglasses on did nothing to hide his identity. 

Jeff was standing in the lobby of the recording studio, standing next to an older gentleman with white hair, a matching white beard, and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. I felt myself stop breathing (and stop walking) and only remembered to inhale when Harry put his hand on my back and pushed me forward slightly. “Jeff,” Harry said, and the two men turned to look at him, “sorry I’m late. You must be John.”

“The man of the hour,” John replied, giving Harry a twinkling smile. I wanted to cry, but figured that would be a bit unprofessional. “I just listened to your solo album. It’s incredible, son. My great-granddaughter is obsessed.”

“It’s an honor to hear you say that, sir,” Harry said, shaking John’s hand. I saw the moment John’s eyes flitted over in my direction and think my soul might have ascended. “This is my friend, Petra. She’s a fan of your work and I knew she’d want to meet you.”

John smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Pleasure to meet you, Petra. Are you in the music industry too?”

“I...I run a podcast, actually,” I managed to stutter out.

“How interesting. What about?”

“Various things. Mostly I have guests that worked on big franchise movies or books.”

I didn’t realize Harry hadn’t taken his hand off my back until I felt him squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. I wondered if he could feel me shaking. “Petra’s writing a book herself. Her podcast is absolutely incredible to listen to.”

“I’ll have to listen sometime. You ever talk about Star Wars?”

“We’ve discussed Star Wars a lot. We actually had one of the costume designers on once. It was incredible.”

“Next time I’m here in London I’ll have to drop by. My grandkids listen to podcasts and they’re always trying to get me into new ones.”

“We’d love to have you,” I assured. Inside, I was trying to keep myself from doing something embarrassing.

John and Harry chatted for a little while longer, but it came time for John to leave for the airport to catch his flight back home to America. He shook Harry and Jeff’s hand and even gave me a hug. Harry rolled his eyes behind John’s back when he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but gave me a smile to assure me that he was just joking about it. Then, John left and the three of us stood in the lobby of Harry’s recording studio in silence for approximately five seconds.

And then I burst into tears.

Jeff looked horrified. If he had grown up with me, he might have known how incredible that moment was for me. As he hadn’t grown up with me, he probably was wondering what the hell was wrong. Harry didn’t hesitate for a single second to grab tissues and press them into my hand so I could wipe away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said, directed more towards Jeff since he probably thought I was absolutely crazy.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Petra. It’s overwhelming, I know,” Harry said, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I hated crying in front of Harry. There was a prickling to my skin, like I was hyper aware he was watching me geek out and be an emotional nerd. He had seen me cry over things when we were younger, and back then he had given me shit about it. Now, he just stared at me and gave me soft smiles. I didn’t know which one was worse. Because at least I expected his taunts. The smiles I didn’t really know what to do with.

“Sorry,” I said again to Jeff after I finished crying. I was sure I looked a sight, with my wet hair and tear-streaked cheeks, but Jeff just smiled.

“S’alright, Petra. You okay?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Thanks for inviting us, man. I’m gonna take her home.”

Jeff waved us goodbye and Harry and I left, walking to his car in silence. My coffee was still in there, though it was so cold that none of the ice had melted. I buckled my seatbelt in silence, still feeling like an idiot for crying in front of him but also feeling elated because I had just met John Williams. Harry handed me another tissue that he kept in his middle console and I took it without speaking.

The drive back to my flat was incredibly awkward.

He pulled up to my flat parking structure in record time, but he didn’t make a move to get out of his car. He simply turned off the engine and sat for a little while, giving me time to gather my thoughts. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded. “It was...really nice of you to think of me. I appreciate it.”

“Then why do you look like I just told you I was gonna kill your dog?”

I snorted. “I don’t have a dog.”

“You know what I mean, Petra.”

I was embarrassed to tell him, but I knew that after the massive favor he had done for me today, he deserved the truth. “I was embarrassed to cry in front of you, especially about something like that. It just reminded me…”

“Of when you cried reading the last Harry Potter book and I made fun of you,” he answered when I trailed off. “Shit,” he mumbled out, his body slumping into his seat. He threw his hand over the bridge of his nose, pinching it with his index finger and thumb. We sat in silence for a little while longer. “I...I feel so fucking ashamed. How is it that I’ve managed to fuck over someone so completely that they’re afraid to show any emotion?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, unable to refute his words. 

“I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t even know why you came with me today. If I were you I would have given up on me a long time ago.”

I wanted to. I wanted to be angry with him, to stomp out of his car and slam his door shut and never speak to him again. I wanted to talk to Melody and call him a raging twat and curse the ground he walked on. But I thought of today, of how he had gone out of his way to introduce me to John Williams. I thought of him sitting alone in his house, watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and I thought of him sending me those flowers after my disastrous date with Peter.

“I want to,” I decided to tell him. He deserved honesty. “But...I think deep down, I do know you’ve changed. It’s just going to take a long time to get over the past. I’ve been talking about it with my therapist.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ve been discussing ways to help with my self-esteem and confidence. We're trying to work on forgiveness too. She says that I should only let you back into my life if I’m sure that it’s a good idea.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She’s the best.” I looked over to him, finding his eyes already on me. “It’s taking me time, Harry. It’s as much me as it is you. I’ve got to feel confident enough to let go of the past. But...I really appreciate today. And I appreciate you trying.”

He nodded. “I’m proud of you, going to therapy and all that.”

“Thanks. I just need to work on being proud of myself.”

I unlocked the door and opened it up, grabbing my iced coffee cup so I wouldn’t leave the trash in his car. “Thanks for thinking of me today. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See you soon, Petra.”

Once I shut the door, he started the car back up and backed out of my flat complex. I stupidly watched his car drive away before I walked away.

~

When Melody had first told me about Cassandra and Vera, I had thought she was exaggerating. I figured no roommate could really be as awful as Melody was making them out to be. The first time I had met them, I was optimistic that they would prove Melody was just being picky about friends.

She hadn’t been.

I had only been to Melody’s flat a handful of times, due to the fact that mostly, we spent our time at my place. Her flat was more grandiose than mine, with three big rooms and two bathrooms, but it was cramped with Cassandra and Vera’s things. I couldn’t even see a touch of Melody in the foyer of the flat, which was where I was standing because when Vera had lazily answered the door, she had given me the barest of greetings before gesturing me inside and retreating back to her room. I could hear Cassandra prattling around in the kitchen, but couldn’t see her because I hadn’t actually been invited inside and unlike Melody being comfortable at my place, I wasn’t comfortable at hers.

“Melody’s coming,” Vera said, appearing almost out of thin air. In the two minutes she’d been done, she’d changed into leggings and a workout tank, but her eyes still looked sleepy, like she’d much rather go back to bed. “Cassandra’s making smoothies if you want some.” Before I could express my gratitude and politely decline, Vera whispered, “They’re shit. She puts kale in them.”

“Oh.”

Melody came out of her room and I don’t think I’d ever been so grateful to see someone in my life. I hated talking to Vera and Cassandra. At least Derek, Vera’s creepy boyfriend, wasn’t here to stare at my boobs. “We’re headed out. Please don’t set the flat on fire.”

Vera sneered, an ugly expression on a rather pretty girl. She had pretty auburn hair that verged more on brown than red until she was in the sun (which was rare in London). She had moved from Canada to go to school in London because her boyfriend had already completed his first year of uni. She was taller than me but shorter than Cassandra and had hazel eyes. “I’m not a child, Melody,” Vera snapped.

“Who’s there?” I heard Cassandra ask from the kitchen. She trailed into view, clad in nothing but tiny pajama shorts and a tank top that had a strap falling off her shoulder. Cassandra could have been a supermodel if she’d wanted to be. She was toned from playing volleyball since she could walk and had long blonde hair. The second her eyes landed on me, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, Petra! Is it true?”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

Cassandra rushed over to me with the speed only she and Usain Bolt could possess. “Is it true you’re dating Harry Styles?” she screeched. I think I may have lost hearing in my ear. “You’re everywhere! People got pictures of you in his car yesterday. Everyone’s trying to find out who Harry’s new mystery girl is, but the second I saw the photo, I knew it was you.”

“You were with the raging twat yesterday?” Melody asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra tried to say “he’s not a raging twat!” at the same time Vera snorted out a laugh. Meanwhile, I was processing what Cassandra was saying.

There were pictures of me with Harry. I knew logically there were probably paparazzi that followed him around everywhere because of his career, but I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that we had been photographed. “Can you show me the pictures?” I asked Cassandra, who eagerly nodded and pulled out her phone, scrolling through twitter. #HarryStylesMysteryGirl was trending. 

“Christ, Petra,” Melody mumbled under her breath as we scrolled through the Twitter tag. “Do you know how many people have to be tweeting about that to get it trending?”

I didn’t want to know.

Melody seemed to sense I was either going to pass out or throw Cassandra’s phone across the room, so she gently pried it out of my fingers and handed it back to her roommate. “Right, well, we’ve got to head out. See you later,” Melody told her two roommates, grabbing me by the elbow and tugging me towards the door.

“Say hi to Harry for me, will you? And if you could get his autograph, that would be ace!” Cassandra called before the door to Melody’s flat shut behind her.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Melody asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. We stood there in silence for a couple of seconds before she eventually let out a deep breath. “Okay. Want to start at the beginning?”

That’s what I loved about Melody. She let me explain things at my own pace. I told her about the events leading up to the pictures that had apparently been taken of us, on our way to meet John Williams. I told her about the weird moment Harry had bandaged my cut and how he knew my grandmother’s name was Yelina. I also told her about our (technically second) hesitant truce with one another before he had driven off. 

She listened quietly. And then, she sighed. “I know it seems like he’s trying, Petra. And maybe he really is. But you’ve got to be careful, okay? The things he and his friends said about you...those aren’t things someone easily comes back from. If his fans knew about some of the stuff he’d allowed that dick Nathan to say, they’d burn him alive. And now there’s pictures of you out there and fans are nasty.”

“I promise I’m being careful.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Also, don’t go on Twitter for a while. At least until the hashtag dies down. I don’t want you to see anything negative.”

Another thing I hadn’t thought about. If fans saw the picture of me with Harry, I knew most of them would be supportive even if there was absolutely nothing going on and there would never be anything going on. But some fans would be nasty and make fun of me simply because they were jealous. This was a promise I could easily make to Melody. “I won’t.”

“Good. Now can we go get food? I’m starving.”

We stared at each other for a moment before we started laughing. It was always nice to know Melody and I were usually on the same wavelength. 

~

My phone beeping woke me up.

I had been folding laundry on my couch while the old Wonder Woman show played on the telly. I guess mid-fold I had fallen asleep on my couch, which would explain why the piles of clothes I had worked so hard on now looked like clumpy messes. The telly was still on, but it was some other show now and my phone was lit up on the table in front of me. I blearily glanced at the time, cursing when I realized I had fallen asleep around seven and therefore probably wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, since it was already one in the morning.

harrystyles: I’m so sorry Petra.

Blinking, I tried to go over in my head what he had to be sorry for (besides the obvious). Why? I typed back, still feeling a little sleepy and more than a little confused.

harrystyles: They got pictures of us and found out your name. You’re all over Twitter.

I had known they had pictures of me, but last I checked I was still the “mystery girl.” Despite the promise to Melody, I opened up Twitter and saw my name was trending. I didn’t dare click on it for fear that I would find nasty tweets that I didn’t need to see. 

harrystyles: I totally understand if you’re upset.

Not your fault, I typed back. I figured if he was feeling bad enough to message me about it at one in the morning, I should at least cut him a little slack. Plus, my message was true. It wasn’t his fault. He had been in such a rush to get me to John that he had forgotten, for a moment, who he was and what the consequences of that were.

harrystyles: Still. You okay?

I’m fine, I replied. Don’t worry about it.

harrystyles: I just don’t want this to ruin our chances of ever being friends.

For Christ’s sake, Styles, stop blaming yourself. Don’t you have better things to do at one in the morning?

He never responded, but I assumed he had fallen asleep. As for me, I decided to finish up the laundry, fixing up my piles that had been crushed underneath my back. It was a rare night when Melody wasn’t staying at my place, so the flat felt quiet without her there. Once I finished up with my piles, I walked them down to my room, glancing down at my phone when it beeped again.

harrystyles: I’m outside.

Outside where?

harrystyles: Your place, obviously.

Sure enough, I heard a knock on my door fifteen seconds later. When I looked out my window, there was a different car in the lot than the Mercedes. I guess it made sense that he would have more than one, but seeing another expensive car made me wonder just how much money Harry made doing his music. I padded my way over to my front door, opening it up. I was sure I looked a mess, with my glasses askew on my nose and my hair in a terrible messy bun that resembled a rat’s nest more than hair, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. It wasn’t like I was bombarding someone at one in the morning.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I wanted to make sure you really weren’t mad at me.” He had one hand slung in the pocket of his joggers and was wearing a black sweatshirt that actually looked really comfortable. His other hand was behind his back.

“You couldn’t have done that at a normal time of day?”

“I figured we were both up. I brought you something.”

Raising a brow, I waited until he pulled his hand out from behind his back. Once he did, my tired eyes widened. In his hands was a tiny little potted succulent, a pretty green flower that also looked like a cactus. He shoved it into my hands like he was a nervous teenage boy, the hand that was holding it immediately retreating back into his pocket.

“I know you liked the other flowers and this one is harder to kill,” he explained.

“I didn’t kill the other one!” I was slightly offended. Did he think I just went around killing plants? “I’m a great plant mum.”

His small dimple appeared when he lifted the corner of his mouth in a grin. “Well I didn’t know that and I didn’t want it dying on you.” I moved to put the little succulent on the table near my front door. “You’re really okay with the Twitter thing?”

“It’s not ideal,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I know your own Instagram’s on private, but try not to post anything too personal to the Alien Crossing account. Don’t look on Twitter. I don’t know if you already have or not, but sometimes people say nasty things.”

“Harry, believe it or not, I’ve got practice with people saying shitty things about me in regards to you.”

I said the sentence without really thinking about it. I think I had meant it offhandedly, like a kind of last minute joke or something, but I knew the second it left my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. His shoulders slumped, like he was a helium balloon that someone was slowly draining, and the grin dropped from his face almost immediately. “Right,” he said in a cold voice. “I’d better go. Just wanted to check in.”

Even with our small truce, we still found a way to fuck things up. His reaction made me annoyed. What right did he have to that kind of reaction? He was the one who had said the shitty things about me. He didn’t deserve to feel chagrined when I tried to make a joke out of it. “Probably,” I said stiffly, my voice a couple of degrees colder.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. Without so much as another blink in my direction, he turned on his heel and walked back to his car.

I had to remind myself to unclench my jaw as I closed my front door. I don’t know why his reaction had made me so angry, but it was just a reminder that Harry Styles, at his core, was selfish. He only cared about himself and how my actions made him feel. How I made him uncomfortable when I brought up how awful he had been. My steps were heavy with anger when I marched back to my room, opening up my laptop with a little more force than necessary. 

Here’s something one should know about me. When I felt like I was being attacked or I had made someone upset, instead of trying to cheer myself up, I wanted to know all the nasty things people were thinking about me. Doctor Thorne called this “bad validation.” Like if Harry thought I was being mean for making that joke, suddenly I had to see someone else saying my voice sounded annoying on AC. It was like this terrible reassurance that I so badly didn’t want to seek out, but I couldn’t help it.

Which was why I opened Twitter.

My name was the first trending hashtag.

I had never once Googled myself. Googling myself felt weird. Also, I had never really had a reason to. While AC was popular, it wasn’t so popular that I could walk in the street and be recognized. Mostly, it was my voice that people recognized. This meant that I had never really seen people commenting on my appearance, which was why most of my self-confidence issues were about my actions and personality.

Until now.

She looks way too plain to be seen with him. Please tell me they aren’t dating.

Gross. She looks like a drowned dog.

Who the fuck is this bitch? And why does she go out in public looking like that?

I slammed my computer shut.

My room was silent, save for my angry breathing and the beating of my heart. Standing stiffly from my desk chair, I walked back out into my living room and to my couch, where I still had some piles of clothes that needed to be put away.

The echeveria plant stared back at me when I looked up at it.

I didn’t like the fact that my heart stuttered a little when I looked at it. It just reminded me that he had come, at one in the morning, to make sure I was okay. And then everything had gone wrong, like everything in my life inevitably did. Forcing myself to walk over to it, I picked up the tiny white pot it was in and set it next to my shelf, where I had the picture of my grandmother.

And then I sat on my couch and tried not to cry as I folded the rest of my laundry.

[jasperygrace]

February 2021 Mid Monthly Report

Hello hello! Do I keep changing the graphic style every month? Yes, yes I do--I'm doing my best to get a feel for these reports; I'm not quite there yet.

Buckle up, y'all. This month's report is a bit of a long one, so without further ado, let's begin!

Project Progress

If you're interested in the project, consider checking out the WIP page!

Shrines:

It is with great pleasure to show you all the finished Shrine concepts:

The concepts came out AMAZING; I'm incredibly impressed with my self, to be honest. There's technically suppose to be one more piece included with this set, the interior of the Shrines, but I'm still working out how I want the inside to actually look. Once I'm done with the zero draft, I'll likely have a better idea of this.

So what exactly are the Shrines? As some the notes in the first image states, their purpose is to maintain the barrier that's keeping shapeshifters like Orias and Niv (called Abstraktions) trapped within the Trigala Wasteland. This is also where Vinnie meets Miriam since she's trapped within that system. There are three total present in the wasteland, corresponding to the three acts that Project : Desert is set up as.

Act Two Fiasco:

Speaking of acts, I recently came across a story issue as I was plotting out Act 2; originally, I was suppose to introduce a new character who would only appear in this act. The problem I was beginning to have was that this new character was stealing the spotlight from all the other supporting characters (especially Briar and Reese). Unfortunately for me, I wasn't able to address this issue until yesterday morning (as of writing this). I had already drafted five chapters into Act 2 and now I've gotta scrap them; alas, I'll do what's best for the story, even if that means starting again from the top.

Going into this with a new thought in mind, my goal for Act 2 is to shine the spotlight on Briar and Reese. They're in the sidelines for majority of Act 1 since that's where the main conflict is setting up (Vinnie getting attacked and running from Trin, Orias setting his plan into motion, and Niv mercilessly hunting the two of them down). Unlike Claudia, Miriam, and Niv who only show up for parts of the story, Briar and Reese are constant presence around the protagonists; they need to make their presence known otherwise the reader is going to forget they're there.

Housekeeping

I'll do my best to keep this bit short since this report is a lot longer than I planned (whoops).

I need to do some desperate housekeeping for the project. What do I mean by this? I'm planning to redo some technical stuff, such as redoing the WIP page, making a proper WIP intro, I'd even like to tweak some of the character designs to make them stand out and/or easier to draw (I'm looking at you, Vinnie). Of course, I'm not going to have time to do all of this in a month, especially with my new art gig, but I'd like to get on the ball to doing this.

I also want to get back into doing full pieces again because it as been awhile. I'm incredibly rusty since I've done nothing but concept art for the last couple months. I plan on practicing some scenery and perspective in the coming days, just so I get the hang of it again.

Goals

Here are the goals I completed for this month:

Outline five chapters by February 15th [Although I did write 5 chapters, I plan on redoing them]

Complete Shrine concepts by February 15th [done]

February Goals:

Outline five chapters by March 16th

Redo the WIP page by March 6st

Create a WIP introduction post by March 16th (must complete the WIP page task first)

Create a seperate post for the Shrine concepts by February 21st

Complete a scenery piece by March 16th (bonus points if two pieces are completed)

That sums up my report for this month! Thank you for reading and I hope you'll support me in my future endeavors!

[tetrakys]

What is your opinion about the new episodes of mcll ? ^^ Did you like them, do you wish to modify something so far. And what is your fav moment and illustration ? :)

Hello ^^ sorry it took me so long to get to you anons, I was waiting to have enough time to make these questions justice (I don’t so I’m replying before episode 3 comes out).

My opinion about the episodes so far: I liked them, episode 1 was mostly exposition for the new players so it was a bit boring for us, but also indicative because, from what Candy chose to say, you can tell what’s going to be important during the season.

For example, did Candy name at all if she and Castiel or Nath had been together in high school? I think she didn’t. It means clean slate, people who got with them later are going to have the same experience as the people who have been with them since high school. I personally don’t like it because I enjoy seeing how dialogues change even just a tiny bit, but alas we can forget about that. Same thing about the other guys, Candy’s ex wasn’t named at all so we know this isn’t going to matter.

Also, I enjoyed a lot the moments of domestic bliss, they were so cute and Candy and her LI are adorable together, all 5 options.

But is it going to be engaging in the long run? That’s what worries me, because I lose interest easily when the couple gets together. It will all depend on how realistic they want to be, because real adult life can be pretty boring. Money problems, bills and mortgage, banter on whose turn is to cook and clean the house, etc etc 

Also, the arcs. It seems that we’re going to have characters’ arcs again. We know what Castiel’s is about, and basically that’s what episode 2 was, the set up of his arc. If it lasts another two episodes, I can see LL ending no later than episode 15. About the others, it seems to me that they are all going to have job problems.

I don’t think the main aspect of the arc is going to be personal, because it has to work whether Candy is their girlfriend or not. But at the same time it’s going to have a more personal side that only if you are on their route you’re going to experience. For example:

- Nath seems to be a lot into his new career, to the point that Candy complains that’s all he talks about, and at some point he gets dejected because he feels like what the police can achieve is not enough respect to the size of the problem. So in my opinion he’s probably going to do something reckless and/or completely full-immersion for a case, it may or may not get him in trouble, and Candy is going to suffer a bit of loneliness (if she’s his girlfriend) and worry (in any case). Similar angst as what happened in UL, staying true to his character.

- Rayan received a job offer on the other side of the country, which I’m expecting he will either accept or give it a try as a guest lecturer, travelling often. This, of course, is going to put some strains in the relationship, but I don’t know what’s going to mean if you’re not on his route because I’m not sure yet about his relationship with Candy at the moment. I think they are not exactly friends and don’t see each other much. However, Candy’s business just hit a bad bump, one way she could come out of it is partnering up with Rayan and the university somehow because Rayan likes to create alternative ways of teaching, and this is how his possible move could result complicated also for a Candy not in a relationship with him.

- Priya is also very busy with her work, Candy complaining that she travels too much. Also, she’s going to have a new boss, something is going to happen with this new character. Overwork? Jealousy? I don’t know yet.

- Hyun is clearly terrible at his job, I don’t know how he managed to become the social media manager of an important band. I personally think he should’ve stuck to cooking. We already saw him getting sad about feeling responsible for what’s going on with Crowstorm, maybe he’s going to have other problems later. Also, his sisters. maybe his arc is going to be again about family problems, something going on with his sisters, and a Candy in a relationship with him is going to feel it even more (she already has a chance to complain in episode 1).

And, of course, side characters are also going to have their moment to shine. Alexy has something going on, but honestly he’s the most realistic so far for me, the struggle of not being able to find a job is something that many people feel in their 20s, and Chani too, with her burn out and not feeling satisfied. Chani will probably become an artist and something with Aster will happen, that’s VIOLET I feel it! Could Chani and Violet become a couple? I kinda like the idea... but also if they just collaborate as artists it’d be cute. And Candy exposing their art is going to boost her business.

Rosa... I don’t know how much we’re going to see of her, I expect less than beofore. Unpopular opinion, I like her new style (I know I know, it also reminds me of Lys) and I want to see her baby girl.

These are my thoughts so far. About best moment, all the cute moments at home with the LIs, I swooned a lot. Best illustration is definitely Castiel’s episode 1, it’s perfect in my eyes. I don’t like much the ones for episode 2, the artstyle seems different and characters look odd.

What I wish to change? The fade to black scenes at the end 😏 but honestly I wasn’t expecting anything explicit during the first episode, so we’ll just have to wait and see.

[erunapendleton]

seven comfort movies

I was tagged by @alliecatcorner to share my 7 comfort movies!

1. Catnapped! (1995)

I first saw the trailer for this movie in the VHS for Sailor Moon R: Promise of the Rose when I was maybe 6? The main theme’s song was repetitive and bright colors of cats turning into balloons and a strange Godzilla-sized dog intrigued the hell out of me, but alas the movie evaded me for years. Until while browsing an FYE as a sixth grader (?) and I found the movie on DVD! 

The movie meant a lot to me as a child as I found it sweet and exciting, but it meant even more to me during the time when my dog had passed away. 

The movie tells the story of knuckle-headed, but good hearted Toriyasu, his excitable sister Meeko and their lost dog Papadoll. After Papadoll goes missing, the two are summoned to the world of Banipal Witt, a land of anthropomorphic cats and their ruler Buburina who is using Papadoll to terrorize its inhabitants. Toriyasu with the help of some rebels, must save Papadoll and return home all within a day lest he and sister also become Buburina’s monsters!

It’s movie that few know, but I try my best to get people to watch a hidden gem like Catnapped!. 

2. The Whisper of the Heart (1995)

TWotH is by far my favorite Ghibli movie. It’s the only feature by Yoshifumi Kondo who unfortunately passed away after completing this movie. I find his direction while still slow paced, meaningfully so and effective. I would have loved to see other Ghibli features with his touch, but alas it will never be.

TWotH stars Shizuku, a bookworm and fledgling writer who slowly falls for her classmate and aspiring violinist Seiji. Their relationship is rocky at first, both finding the other annoying, but both bond over their shared passion toward their chosen art. Both promise the other to throw themselves into their work and meet again when they’ve finished a goal. And it’s just an overall heartwarming tale of two young people impassioned by a love much greater than them.

I watched this while I was writing Crimson and Clover and living at home going to uni and my boyfriend dormed away from me working toward his degree, so I relate a lot to Shizuku’s circumstances too. ☺️

3. Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

This is a movie that gets better once you revisit it. At first glance Kiki is a young witch looking for her place in the world and that’s all the movie is about. But her figuring out what kind of witch she wants to be and staying in love with flying and delivering is something all young artists, passionates and anyone who has a hobby can relate too. This thing that I love - is it worth my time? Am I making a fool out of myself? Should I give up? Are all questions I ask myself all the time.

Miyazaki has a way of telling fantastical tales like Kiki’s Delivery Service about a witch and her love for flying that perfectly symbolize the relationship between an artist and their art. It’s comforting because we’ve all been there and ultimately, your art is not a waste of time.

4. Animal Crossing: The Movie (2006)

So, it’s no secret that Animal Crossing has been a huge part of my life ever since I played Population Growing (2001). This movie has many magical parts and relatable parts. It’s about a girl named Ai who moves to an animal village and learns to live on her own among her new mysterious and friendly villagers. She grows close particularly to her neighbor Sally (Margie, in the games) and learns about her desire to become a famous fashion designer. 

Playing the games is not necessary for enjoyment. You will mostly feel happy, if not a little bittersweet after. Also listening to the live version of K.K. Bossa is enough to give it a watch!  

5. Ratatouille (2007)

This is the best Pixar movie. Period.

Ratatouille is sort of a meme because of the premise of a rat controlling a lanky man in the kitchen is really funny, but this movie is so much more than it’s funky little premise. With the through line, “Anyone can cook,” the movie tells the audience that you can do anything you are passionate about, not necessarily just cooking, by telling the tale of the most unlikely chef that could ever be. A rat who wants to be a chef, aka food service’s number one enemy? But still Remy is determined by his love for food to bring that same fervor to others and refuses to give up or be bound to the odds given to him by his species. 

Another thing I love is how he says, “I hate taking. I want to make things.” He recognizes the negative stereotype his people have and wants to prove to the humans he has something to offer, all rats are capable are more than just stealing. It’s a gorgeous message for everyone that you are more than your circumstances or what people tell you are. You can be anything. Anyone can cook. 

6. Hercules (1997)

There’s a lot to love about Hercules between the absolutely creative new art style used for the characters, the clever pop culture references like the air-hercs, or even just the humor. What I love the most is the characterization of Hercules. 

It’s best encapsulated in the scene when Hercules sings “I Can Go the Distance,” which explains his feeling of ostracization from those around him and the lines of “I dream of a far off place where people cheer when they see my face and voice keeps saying, ‘This is where I’m meant to be,’” always gets me. I really admired how Hercules just goes off to learn who he is and then throws himself so strongly into becoming a hero all so that he can finally feel like he belongs... He didn’t wallow - he changed his circumstances. It’s empowering to see.  I won’t drone on too much longer lol stan Meg

7. The Little Mermaid (1989)

I often get really irritated when people zone in on Ariel’s infatuation with Eric and decide that is the ONLY reason she wanted life on land. It’s like they ignore her cove of thingamabobs or her overbearing father who never taught her or sisters anything about the surface. Eric was just another reason for her to break away and be free. Ariel’s bravery, wit and passion is admirable and it’s so wrong to diminish any of those traits just because she was in love. 

One of my favorite scenes is when her father, who finally realizes Ariel is serious about life on land and her love for Eric, not only gives her legs, but the most beautiful, sparkling purple gown. It couldn’t be anymore different than how Ursula discarded by leaving her naked while her father wrapped her nicely and lovingly and finally ready for life above. I just find that very touching.

Ok that went on for far too long lol time for some tags

@duechainz @rengokukyoujurou @yoshis @king-gappy @phantom-riter @nezukoh @jojo-sama

[thewebcomicsreview]

Homestuck 2 Liveblog, Part 3 

(See older parts here or on Tumblr here)

Chapter 3: How Are your feelings

We’ve got a new ship, which appears to have sails for some reason, and it’s either rocketing forward with determination, or crashing. Presumably, this is the ship containing the Meatworld Crew, who set out to rescue Rose from Dirk’s mind control. God, this plot is so complicated.

In anyone else’s hands, this is just a microphone. In my hands it’s a pipe boat. 

The one spoiler I had for this chapter was that the ship design was stupid, and...yes. That says “Grandpa Harley” a lot more than the Theseus did, though I don’t think Canon Jake ever smoked.

Oh boy, the narration text is in the first person. It’s also lowercase, so one presumes this is Calliope, in Jade’s body? I thought Calliope was trying to maintain the role of invisible narrator, though, and she’s calling attention to herself more obviously than any of the other narrators.

Me on my way to steal your girl by possessing her and floating around all creepy for three years

JADE: the prince’s power grows.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

Heh. This art is really nice. Jade’s speaking in Calliope’s red text, so she is indeed possessed by Calliope. Poor Jade. Homestuck proper is 8,192 pages. The epilogue is 100,000 words, and we’re 100 pages into Homestuck 2. Jade has been stuck on a boat, possessed, unconscious, dead,possessed again, or otherwise out of the story since Cascade, all the way back on page 4,109. No wonder she became a hedonist. Of course, who’s fault is it that Jade missed the final battle.

(From Homestuck 1). 

I always read this as foreshadowing that Jade would get a big moment, and it never happened. Hopefully someone on the writing team remembers that Jade is supposed to roar to life and show everyone who’s the real master. But for now, alas, the real master is Calliope, hypocritically fighting for the free will of all by taking Jade out of the story again. Anyway, that was a long tangent and a lot of search (give me back the .txt file of the whole comic, Viz!) back to Homestuck 2.

Oh hey, DaveKat is canon now, I forgot. It’s mildly annoying that Dave and Calliope are in the same scene with the same text color, but whatev.

Aww, Karkat’s wearing Dave’s shirt. How cute. Less cute: Calliope’s added her red to Jade’s outfit, including her logo. She’s really just as evil as Dirk, isn’t she?

Also, I don’t know if this sprite style quite works for a “leaning up in bed pose”

This just looks odd. Probably doesn’t help that we’re see Dave without shades for I believe the first time ever.

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM!

Aw, I missed this, a Karkat tantrum.

I like this dynamic. But if they’ve been on this boat as long as Dirk has been on his, Jade’s been possessed for three years.

Why are Dirk and Calliope’s powers growing, though? Especially Calliope, shouldn’t she be maxed out by now? She literally ate Lord Engl-

....

Oh

Calliope is powerful enough to escape Candyland because she ate Lord English, and Lord English is partially comprised of Dirk, so there’s quite literally a little bit of Dirk inside Calliope right now. That’s maybe something to keep in the back of our minds, but now I’m theorycrafting. 

The only way twenty-somethings can afford an apartment this night is if they live somewhere with a killer commute, which is why it takes three years to get anywhere

Okay, phew. So this Roxy is trans, but the Roxy on Candyland isn’t. That’s something I’m going to have to be careful to remember lest I use the wrong pronoun for the wrong one and everyone gets mad at me.

Dirk, like the coffee, getting roasted here

So, has this crew not been chasing Dirk for three years, or has Dave just been all “I sure am comfortable with you being trans now” incessantly from age 23 to age 26? I guess that’s pretty in-character for him. Everyone seems to not be used to a situation they should be used to be now so far, but maybe that’s just for our benefit as readers who can’t remember all this nonsense? 

I love how Kanaya the Fashion Troll is basically the only character in the entire franchise to go “Fuck I haven’t been onscreen in over ten years I should change my look”. The big bow is Rose’s from way back when her and Kanaya first met, which is a cute nod. 

Okay I get that they want to remind these things to the reader, but Dave. Dude. She’s your sister-in-law. She’s been your sister-in-law for 7 to 10 years depending on how long you’ve been on that boat and she’s been a vampire that whole time. Someone give this boy a set of flash cards, Jesus Christ! 

OBVIOUS FORESHADOWING ALERT: This story is about a “young prince”, and this is going to be a metaphor. The young prince is Dirk, the Prince of Time, and the Rose is....Rose. 

Aww, this is cute. I should have put on Kanaya’s Theme while reading this, it fits the mood of the scene really well.

Oh man, none of these people know John’s dead

fffffffffffffffff

Okay, so that’s 7 years between the end of Homestuck 1 and the Homestuck Epilogues. Dirk’s been on his boat for three years, but we’re with the Meat Crew at the start of their journey, (which means Roxy only recently came out as trans, which I guess makes it less weird that Dave is still processing it).

But god, this is a lot of timelines to keep track of. I guess it’s fun in a way, being intensely convoluted was part of the fun of trying to piece together Homestuck 1′s plot, but I think I’m this close to busting out a white board where and how old everyone is actually fuck it

God as my witness, I will one day have a vague understanding of what the fuck is going on in Homestuck and I will die trying! 

This seems metatextual, in that the characters are more complete when they have like a goal and stuff. Or it might be the Homestuck 2 writers taking a subtle jab at the Epilogue writers, that everyone’s better off having left the epilogues behind and moving on to Homestuck 2. That might be reading too much into it. 

Of course, as soon as I say that we cut from Dave talking about how everything’s better to Karkat talking about how everything’s worse.

Wait, non-god Calliope is on the ship? UGH, the whiteboard already needs to be updated! The epilogues implied she was too scared of god-Calliope to leave her room, so I’d assumed she’d stayed behind. Damn it.

Heh. Also: Huh? Karkat is making a lot of assumptions here, given that Terezi, Sollux, and Aradia are all alive, he never saw Gamzee die, and Vriska dying just made her more powerful.

And that’s the update! I like these character interactions, even though they’re mostly just sitting around and naval-gazing like in Act 6 and the epilogues, because at least it’s got some jokes it feels like it’s all going somewhere. And starting next month, it’s going to be going there twice as fast

[anathemafiction]

Push Me Far

Commission made by the lovely @feather-x-crown

The Pitch: A riled up Alain.

3k words

NSFW

The chilled wine in his hand has turned lukewarm. 

Alain pays it no mind. Someone is speaking to his left. A slow, monotonous voice that pours forth from withered, cracked lips in a neverending current that is slowly getting to his nerves. Alain blocks the nobleman's ramblings as best he can, occasionally nodding to keep the old fool satisfied. 

The woman his father has paired him with for the evening straightens her shoulders, her chest conveniently puffing up with the movement, as she adjusts her seat on the opulent couch in front of him. Her dark eyes are trained on him, as is the slow, seductive smile that never seems to leave her lips. 

A smile that quickly turns to a wrathful snarl when he barely spares her a glance. She is beautiful, no doubt. Dazzling, elegant dress styled in the latest fashion. Black hair tied high on her head. Dark, smooth skin perfectly complemented by the brightest of jewelry. 

Beautiful, no doubt. And rich too. More than willing to play the game, to sink her long red nails into his skin. Just a few months prior and Alain would end the night between her thighs. 

How life changes.

Alain brings the wine to his lips, grimacing at the taste, but he doesn't put it down. He can't spare a glance at the low table. Won't waste a moment to call a servant for a new drink. He's watching the far side of the room. Watching religiously as he never thought he would be fool enough to. But alas, here he is, craning his neck to peek past the noblewoman now staring daggers at him. 

And sees you. 

His fingers tighten on the glass. You have finally left the prattling group who has swallowed you whole. Kept your attention for far too long. Your lovely silhouette stands out against the rich row of tinted windows as you unhurriedly make your way across the ballroom. Alain leans back on his chair, looping a casual arm across its back and crossing a leg over the other. Forcing himself to relax, to look casual. Unworried. He even smiles, brown eyes tracking you. 

You would look at him now. Your pretty, blue eyes that sometimes turn green and he could never figure out why would flash at him. And your lovely lips, the ones he has been frustratingly dreaming of, would curl into that shy little smile that twists his insides and warms his chest and makes his fingers twitch to grab you. And you would flush, prettily, delicately, visible even from across the room and Alain would know then. He would know his sparrow hasn't flown away from him. 

He is smiling as you pause by the refreshment table. Smiling as you pick a crystal clear glass of wine. Smiling as you turn... and walk away. 

Ignoring him. Once again. 

Alain smiles still. But it's sharp and bitter, his teeth clenched so hard it makes his jaw ache. Odette, what game are you playing? Whatever it is, it's working. He feels a wave rising inside him, one that is completely unfamiliar. One that threatens to overwhelm him. His eyes can't leave you. Not as you fill the grandiose ball as you do. 

Dress beautiful, but not ostentatious. The blue fabric modest, but enhancing. Fitting your body like a work of art. Your brown hair spills free across your bare shoulders, and your neck is decorated by a single necklace. Gold chain and a luxurious green stone at the center. A gift from him to you. The only one of all he has lavished upon you that you accepted. 

Beauty in raw form. He cannot believe how much he missed you. How he missed your voice. Your eyes. Your body. You are laughing, the sound barely able to reach him. But it does. And it is beautiful. His pulse quickens as he tracks your neck, drinks in the way your brow glistens in the candlelight. Admires the lines of your corset, the soft flesh of...

"So, naturally, I could not accept the contract. Not while wool is still lacking and- Alain, my dear boy, are you well?" the weathered nobleman is staring at him, small beady eyes looking uncertain. His grey mustache quivers along with his incessant flapping lips and his bushy eyebrows are furrowed.

Alain shifts in his seat, clearing his throat against the warmth that tingles his skin. Not the time. His glass nearly breaks as his fingers tighten around it. "Of course, my Lord, I was merely considering the wool situation," Alain says smoothly, smiling disarmingly at the old man. He wants to look at you, but he can't risk insulting this one. His father would bite his head off. "Excuse my rudeness. You were saying?"

The entitled noble pauses, but then nods solemnly. "Ah, yes, the wool," his old throat sighs. "A shameful affair. Tragic. I think..." Alain blocks him again, nodding feebly as he turns back to the room. 

He can't see you. He leans forward in his chair, eyes frantically searching the crowd. This whole night has been a disaster. From the surprise pairing to a woman he has no interest in, to his twin suddenly not coming, to his sparrow acting as you are. It has been so long. Too long since he had tasted those lips, but he had to be content with your sight only. 

But now he can't even have that. He spots a blue dress amongst the gossiping nobles, but the woman wearing it is not you. Swallowing a growl, Alain leans to the side, nearly tumbling out of his chair, looking for-

You have your hand in the arm of a young man who is leading you to the dance platform. 

Glass crystalizes inside his veins, piercing at him, tearing him apart. The whole ball freezes as his eyes narrow into slits.

"Alain!" a feminine voice yells, and his pair jumps from her chair, rushing over to him. 

Something warm coats his fingers. Alain looks down and sees that the glass has shattered, broken pieces piercing his skin. Wine is pouring down his shirt, as red as the blood that coats his hand. He doesn't feel pain. He stares at it. People are talking around him, but he can't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. 

Alain then lifts his head and spots you. Sees you smiling as you dance. Looking at your partner. Beautiful eyes away from him. 

"Where are you going?" someone shouts at his back as he gets up, shaking his arm free from the woman's grasp, and stalks away. Stalks to a corner of the ballroom. 

Eyes never leaving you.

(…)

Here is a sneak peek!  The full commission is available on Ko-fi for one-time supporters (this includes those who have requested a commission or donated!) or monthly subscribers!

The Commission.

Thank you for the request, Crow! I hope you like it. (◠‿◠✿)