#I wish I could just be consistent with my art style but I’m still trying to figure it out

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Whats something you wish was improved with twst? Whether itd be the story, art, gameplay wtv

To me, the story is solid but my only complaint are the art card (since im used to being fed to things that are more detailed? And more vast in themes?? I still like it though)

It’s too late to fix book 2–

I’d be content if TWST just added a permanent skip lessons feature instead of limiting us to 10 maximum a day (and not even letting us use the skips on the Extra Lessons!!) 😔 Lessons in general just eat up too much time to do (even if you set to Auto), especially if you’re trying to grind for a specific item drop. While we’re at it, I wouldn’t mind if TWST increased the item drop rates too 😭 I need so many books to level up spells…

About the art, there’s only so much the team can do with its size, resources, and time limitations so not every illustration will be a banger. The team is doing their best with what they have! While I’m personally not a fan of every card art (the groovies are so hit and miss), TWST is definitely up there for me in terms of how appealing the general art style is. I do have to say it’s sometimes inconsistent though, and I chalk that up to it being a team working on the art and not a singular person that produces consistent results. It would be nice if the devs could retroactively tweak older cards to look a little less wonky (be it anatomically or in terms of colors), but 💦 I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon, if at all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst gameplay #twisted wonderland gameplay #notes from the writing raven #question

[theysangastheyslew]

Hey!!!

I want to share more suffering with you, homie haha *crying*

What do you think of the episode? Especially 132 part ofc!

Hi friend! :'))))))))) Ooooooh honey that gif is such a mood XD I’ve been trying to collect my thoughts and this is the best I can do atm. Sorry it’s kind of wordy but here we go 🥲

Ok! So ever-present pacing issues aside, the overarching story made for a solid episode and the animation was incredible. Hell, even the things I disliked objectively looked well-done out of context. Overall, that was no small feat to pull off, especially in such harsh working conditions. I truly do want to acknowledge that.

But in regards to 132, you guys already put into words how I feel better than I could. I may not have anything new to add, but I’ll say what I liked first and then put my issues under a cut.

As someone who actually really likes Yams’ art style, I loved that they consistently kept Hange’s face accurate to the manga. It was really inconsistent throughout the final season and they struggled to not make it too short a lot of times. Hange was always still stunning of course but the difference always stuck out to me. Here everyone was drawn well, but you can tell she got some extra attention.

The way they inched Levi closer to where Hange was sitting while talking with Yelena. Insignificant yeah but consistent with their past behavior. Also I’m glad they tweaked the position of his bandages so it looked less like they were painfully tugging upwards on his nose.

The pained expressions of the kids and Hange watching Levi struggle to even hold his gear

The “unrequited love” exchange. It had most of the softness and emotion from the manga even though the weight of that line will never be realized in non-written form. The camera lingered on each frame in a way that conveyed the sentiment. This is what got my hopes up that they would stay truer to the source material with DYH.

I'm so glad they left in Hange's lines to Flochroach about not giving up. Helps show—once again—that they wanted to live

The choked way Levi said “Devote your heart” + Hange’s widened eye and soft gasp at his words. Though not tearing up like in the manga, the shot still looked lovely for the half second it lasted. He doesn't pause halfway through saying it though so this one I'm still wrestling with.

Of course, the last stand. Onscreen, Hange took out at least 16 colossals (including the ones we see trip and get trampled) and definitely more offscreen (when they cut away to show other characters) and for the last few, did it while in the most pain a human body can feel. 7/10 for combat, my ass. Idk about y’all but I can’t stop hearing Romi Park’s screams in my head. I knew it would be nauseating and brutal but dear God. At the same time I cannot put into words how proud I am of them. That's my commander 💜

Ok “like” is definitely not the right word for this but I had wondered when I first read 132 how Hange’s gas tank was so well-insulated that it didn’t ignite, and.. well I got my answer.

I’m thankful that they didn’t show a glimpse of Hange’s bloody, crushed remains the way you see in the og panel. That at least felt respectful to me. This is wishful thinking I know but the defined charred outline makes me choose hope they fell more off to the side from where the titans were walking so at least there was maybe still a body left to recover someday.

The afterlife scene, the kids all sobbing their hearts out, Levi holding his own hand in the aftermath trying to process what just happened, and Onyankopon confirming the plane’s significance all really were appropriately gut-wrenching.

I really recommend taking a little break between The Rumbling and Sinners. It definitely makes the shift in emotion less jarring and less

When I did that with my rewatch it helped with the flow of things.

Ok, now twist me up and call me a pretzel bc here there be some salt :|

I’ll try to leave out my og issues with the manga chapter itself (like how painfully obvious it was all just to make Armin commander and how unnecessary Hange dying was IN THE FIRST PLACE and IF it had to happen at all how it could have been done at the final boss skelepalooza showdown, etc.) and just focus on the episode.

Goes without saying but it bears repeating: pacing. 75% of my issues with the execution of DYH would be gone if they just slowed down a bit. Just let the weight of it sink in a little. That this moment —all shreds of shipping aside— is the end of the line for these two heroes who have been supporting each other for ten years while bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. But Mappa completely reversed the timing of the sequence of events. In the manga we had a longer, more intimate farewell followed by a last stand that was so short even when you knew it was coming it left you reeling from how fast it was from start to finish. Whereas here they hurried it along to get to the “main event”. Hell, it flows better in gif sets than it does in the actual show.

To me, it felt like Hange’s demeanor didn’t really change from talking with the kids to speaking with Levi, making their false bravado seem like less of a front. I know their tone was meant to sound like they were keeping up appearances, but with how often Hange just gets reduced solely to being a titan freak the way they had Romi say the lines made it sound like actual excitement, especially with the way they drew Hange's facial expressions (more on that next)

Hange’s little smirk after the salute. I kinda get what they were trying to do here but to me it came off as very flippant and dismissive of Levi’s choice of words, especially since they all but got rid of their lips trembling and eye beginning to well up with tears. I wish we’d gotten the big fake smile and laugh because that would have shown better that Hange was overcompensating by trying to put their brave face back on after starting to lose their composure. Their fear is obvious in the manga but it just simply didn’t come through as well throughout this entire exchange.

Sooo Hange almost tears up when Pieck said their words inspired her yet minutes later when their Best Friend tries to say goodbye there’s nowhere near that kind of reaction? Sure, Jan

Levi’s face. Ok look. It’s not a lack of emotion on his part that bothers me. It’s that it’s an entirely different one to begin with. He looks bummed at first yes, but then that changes to what I’m guessing is supposed to be determination which comes off as anger or annoyance (kinda like what changed with his scene with Armin on the stairs). They removed what made this parting different from previous ones, which was the sense of open vulnerability and the dawning realization that now he’s going to have to let Hans go too. See it's not like they were in the middle of the battle just yet. This situation came on suddenly and unexpectedly; it wasn't "supposed" to happen. One second they were on track and the next Hange is being torn away by fate. And yes, the highlights play a part in that transition. Anyone who draws eyes knows the importance of placement and intensity and the major impact they have over the final expression. And when drawing a comic you certainly don’t take up valuable page space with three panels focusing on the hope draining out of someone’s eyes if it wasn’t supposed to be the focus. I mean for fuck's sake, even the Final Season!Nendoroid Levi got it right. Plus, if they could make a point of getting Eren's eyes right during the raid on Liberio they could have gotten it here.

When the camera cuts to the kids watching the titans fall the angle doesn’t let you see that Levi can’t bring himself to watch for more than just a second

NOT MAPPA’s FAULT but since I’m being whiny right now I’m going to add that while ACWNR is a mixed bag to begin with, WIT’s adaptation not including Levihan’s introduction saddens me bc Levi asking Hange to keep watching loses a bit of extra oomph.

Really it just comes down to the fact that there was nothing wrong with the original page. It wasn’t overdone or dragged out by any means but considering many other scenes got shot-for-shot depictions I don’t think we were asking for anything outrageous by wanting a faithful adaptation. The couple frames we got that were almost perfect were so freakin fast you barely had time to process them before it cut away.

I wanted to like it, I really did. Especially since MAPPA did so many things so incredibly well as a whole. My expectations weren’t high, and I did want to give it the benefit of the doubt. But when it came to DYH, it felt both watered down and disjointed, like a completely different scene.

But so it goes. At the end of the day, Hange still dies a horrifying death for plot convenience, and Levi is left behind to suffer once again. It was always going to hurt and I was never going to be ready for it, no matter how it was done.

#gahhhh i keep seeing posts that better verbalize what im trying to say #words are hard #tldr: basically i agree with what you kleinzoe kachuusa warm starlight murdergiraffe nenithil glassesandswords and mcxynth all said #now imma go listen to voices carry by lights and the world is ugly on repeat bc if i see 1 more ‘hange was suicidal’ take ill eat my hand #le me #replies #ramblings #rantings #snk #levihan #analysis

[kociamieta]

Helloo,I hope you have a lovely day/night.I wish you the best of the best.I just wanna say that you're my inspiration!

Your artstyle,the way you draw/render are very fascinating and pretty like every stars shines in the pitch dark starry night sky.I'm swooned by all your pieces of art each time I see them.Such gorgeous arts of yours!

I've been struggling /w my own artstyle for the longest time and I've never found an artstyle that I feel suitable for myself until I saw your arts.I sincerely hope I can improve and draw from the best in my eyes (you).

Thank you dearly for inspiring me and many more other people.Again I wish the best things come to you!!

oh woah thank you!! i still have a lot to learn myself, but i’m glad to hear i could inspire you!!!!

i’ve started to enjoy drawing way more when i realized i don’t have to restrict myself. i don’t enjoy making clean lineart, so i keep it messy or skip it entirely. trying to come up with a consistent “art style” stressed me out, so now i draw things however i want to, and so on. i think having fun is the key here : )

#ask

[su-homeworldraisedau]

So, character development would be hard for Steven, right? Because people don't just change overnight from being extremely spoiled to "I've never been sheltered in my life." At most, he won't be spoiled and end up still having his sassy and stuck-up personality.

OK, NOW THAT QUESTION IS OUT OF THE WAY.

IS IT JUST ME OR DID THE COMICS ART STYLE SHIFT?? IT LOOKS SO GOOD AND ALSO WELCOME BACK!!

//It would be hard, yes! Although, without giving too much away for my plans and what I’m trying to develop, he’s not going to go through the normal “villain to hero” arc, he’s probably just going to get both slightly better but incredibly worse! : ) I don’t have an ending planned yet (I just have an idea of it, not sure how to execute it in the script but I’m not that far yet so it’s ok) but you’ll all be lucky if it’s a “happy” one ;)

//Also yes! It did! Thank you!!! Since there’s so much time between me working on the pages, my artstyle keeps changing and improving within that time so the pages keep looking different, which sometimes makes me a little embarrassed because there aren’t a lot of pages so the abrupt shifts make me feel bad for any new readers (I wish I could just have a consistent style ^^;)

#homeworld raised au #steven universe au #mod connor #ask blog #mod answers

[dregs-leftovers-parsley]

Really bad at this whole ‘live blogging’ thing, sorry. Anyway I finished volume 5 and I have Some Thoughts: Auguste is shaping up to be a bit more of a nuanced villain than I thought he might be (I still want him to get exploded obv).  He’s obsessed with reproducing his own trauma onto Gilbert and reliving it vicariously through him while still having Gilbert ‘remain pure and untouched’.  I guess he’s doing this out of a need to prove to himself that he too could have ‘remained pure’ if only things had happened slightly to the left.  He also seemed to be pretty genuinely distressed by the implication that he’s just as bad as Bonnard (which he is) when he tries to ‘comfort’ Gilbert after the uh incident.  It looks like he’s to be trying to become the kind of abuser he thinks he would have wanted as a child because his mind has twisted around itself so much he can’t even envision a version of his childhood without one and instead can only conjure up the ideal of a ‘benevolent rapist’ 

And speaking of Bonnard, I wish a thousand venomous snakes upon him :)))))

I feel like my biggest issue with Kazeki so far is that it seems to accept the premise that on some level Gilbert *is* uniquely enticing to the people who abuse him.  While the characters who say these things about him are consistently framed as just trying to justify themselves by blaming him, the way so many of them are drawn to him at first sight and intensely enamored by him doesn’t feel right.  And I think the art style of the manga contributes to this as well (which is a bit unfortunate because it’s genuinely one of the most beautifully illustrated manga I’ve seen)

sorry if any of this is incoherent I’m not very good at putting my thoughts into words that make sense

#kaze to ki no uta #real kazeki live blogging hours #parsley.txt

[sincerely-sofie]

Check-in for October 27th, 2023

I spent 3 hours straight working on a single assignment that was meant to take half as long as it did. It took all my brain power to complete it, and I couldn’t get much tangible work on personal projects done as a result. Still got some planning done for business stuff, though. And I’ve been gathering inspiration and references for my dating sim / visual novel project.

The visual novel doesn’t have a premise yet, but I’m building up some creative guidelines to help me generate ideas. I also am planning out some scope limits to keep the size manageable. With NaNoRenO coming up in March, I’m hoping to get all the prep work done at a leisurely but consistent pace over the next few months, then finish up the project over the course of March. That’s very wishful thinking, but you know what they say: “A goal without a plan is just a wish.” And if my wishing and daydreaming about goals is given the planned-out structure of a checklist and schedule, I can maybe, possibly, hypothetically complete this game.

I still need to think of a premise, though, so I better get cracking on that.

I’ve had a few ideas for visuals styles— like making scrapbook-y visuals with collages, journaling ephemera, and paper textures scanned in from real life, combined with actual photos for backgrounds. I’ve also had ideas for atmospheric flair, like typewriter noises playing whenever characters “speak.” Not sure if any of these would appear in my final product when I don't know what the story would even be, but I am very excited either way!

After doing some research on different visual novels, both ones I've played and ones that I've wishlisted or thought looked cool, I've tentatively decided I want to make a wackier sort of visual novel--- one that would preferably be a dating sim of some kind, but I'm not picky. I once drafted the ground work of a cryptid dating sim as a teenager where romance-able options included an angsty gray alien, a spoiled rich boy lizardman, a reverse-spiderman situation heroic vigilante mothman, and an eldritch god named Paul. That project is definitely too big for me to make with my current skillset and patience, so I can't take it on as a project quite yet--- but I can dream.

I'm tempted to make a dating sim based on some OCs in a setting I mentioned previously that is populated by bug people, but that's pretty niche, and I'm honestly not too sure if there's an audience for that sort of thing--- especially if it's essentially an extended inside joke with myself. Even so, I am tempted. So very, very tempted.

One day I will make finalized art of these characters, and everyone will know why they're peak examples of blorbohood.

That being said, I have other ideas that could be adapted to a visual novel or dating sim. One of them involves a tech enthusiast whose computer gets possessed by a malware demon, another details the player going on a blind date with a stereotypical "Hero of Prophecy" fantasy character, and another one is a playable bedtime story. I'll spend some time going through the archives of concepts and try brainstorming some new ones. Still going to need to take it easy for a while--- I've got a busy month coming up with NaNoWriMo, and I don't intend to burn out ahead of that--- but I'll be working on the concepts and required research at a gentle pace!

Seriously, though, fingers crossed on the possibly-completing-a-game thing! I finished a pilot / minimum viable product of an RPG titled Momther a while back and it made me realize I had the chops to actually enjoy game dev as a hobby--- I just have to stay focused and committed, ADHD be darned. If I manage my health well, both mental and physical, that should be nice and doable. I got this!!! Kinda!!! Hopefully!!!

Sincerely, Sofie

#sofie checks in #visual novel development #visual novel #game development #game dev #indiedev

[toumoromoro]

Fishing for the moon in the sea at night

Just finished the game, it was pretty fun. 

Ok first why does this game has 3 names? Fishing for the moon in the sea at night / Towelket one more time 0 / Yorunoumi2

I have wanted to play this one for a long time, I have said it a couple of times before but TK4 is my favorite TK game (maybe one day I will explain why in detail) so a “remake” immediately caught my attention. In the end the game was completely different from what I expected it to be. While it borrows some concepts and story beats from TK4 it really is its own thing.

This game look so pretty. One of my favorite things about the series is watching how the art progresses in each game. I absolutely love how the world of the inn looks. White, black, red and blue look so nice together, and thanks to the border it’s like reading a story book. 

Also the sprites look nice, it’s the same style from 5 so I have no complains... ok maybe I have one complain. Mocha’s sprite. I’m sorry but the sprite from 4 is still the better looking one. Oh also Buritoba and Sekken-bako got new sprites and now they actually look like TK characters. It bothered me a little how normal their sprites did look in 4. They were literally just girl#1 and girl#2.

I almost forgot to talk about my favorite sprite, that’s right Nekojita’s(?). This weird fusion of Warawau and Nekojita that came out of nowhere. I love it, it’s adorable. Their palettes are pretty similar so no surprise why it works so well.

Music was good as always, I could listen to Furikusuku’s mansion theme for hours.

About the gameplay, almost no battles this time around. There are a couple of mandatory fights, but you are basicaly guaranted to win. I think it’s alright, battles have always been one of the weaker points of the series, and this game clearly wants to focus on the story. I hope they return in the next games though.

This game is pretty unique in the sense that you need to play it multiple times to actually understand the story. It has a “route system” where you can date 1 of 11 characters and depending on who you dated you get a different ending. Most endings are pretty much the same, but some are essential to understand what’s going on. On my first playthrough I went for Koucha and after beating the game I was so confused that I blamed the MTL, but no, it turns out a lot of concepts and lore are in the other routes. Even the Koucha route splits! And did you know some dialogue can change based on the gender you choose? So save a lot if you play it. I ended up using all 15 slots. 

And this brings me to my first complaint. I think the route system ended up hurting the story overall. One of the things that I really did like from 4 is the amount of time you get to spend with Mocha and Koucha, we get to see how their relationship evolves, them interacting with others characters or just fooling around, by the end of the game you know them pretty well and you care if something happens to them. In this game you spend very little time with the character you choose, so the more emotional parts didn’t really do a lot for me. I understand that asking Kanao to write that much dialogue for 11 characters is just unrealistic so I wish we had less routes so the other routes could have more dialogue.

Trying to piece the story together was pretty fun. I understand “The true purpose of the inn”, “The story of Mocha and Furikusuku” and “The sins of the Inkeepers”, but I’m still confused about concepts like the Tokage and Uikechuke transformation. You get 2 examples for the Tokage one, but almost no info for the Uikechuke transformation.

This game introduces Smile DK, I think she’s okay, but she only really shines when she’s with Nyanyamo, they are really funny together. Also I really like what’s been done with Nyanyamo design and personality. If I had a top 5 she would definitely be there. Pucchi remains a consistently good character. PPU was there and had more lines than in 4. Please give Agochu her labcoat back.

Overall a fun and solid game, but I have to admit that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would.  Maybe I had too high of expectations. 

A now some trivia: 

1) If you examine the game files it looks like a Buritoba route was considered at some point before being dropped, I didn’t even notice until I read a thread in Japanese Yahoo.

2) If you extract the StringScripts for the game there’s a lot of dialogue for what appears to be a route in which Koucha is possesed by Furikusuku. I couldn’t find any info about this, so please tell me if it was actually implemented in the game.

3) To unlock the Moochasu route you need to go on a date with him before going to Barrieland, then you need to tell Kyuuri or Chihedo that you love her when she confesses, so she connects the inn 1 day earlier. Finally you need to be on the Koucha route so you can go to the inn when you get the wedding ring. Moochasu is inside the bath, give him the ring and you are done. Took me a while to figure how to date him so I hope this helps someone one day.

Next game is:

#towelket #i need a tag for this

[hisclockworkservants]

have you read/seen/are you planning to watch the sandman? i feel like some of the characters would work really well in your art style

 I watched it! And I actually read some of the comics a long time ago. (Alas my favourite one is not covered by the show...)

It was pretty good! I really love the opening visuals in the first episode, all the credits are also great. Tho I feel like the comics are better at conveying some of the scenes in the first arc tho, some of the scenes just feels less than grand despite the effects.

Also Dream came off as a huge jerk in the show? I did not feel like that at all when reading the comics about essentially the same plot. He just felt otherworldly and above humanity, but still kind, instead of whatever the show is trying to do. I get that they are doing the character development thing, but the development seems to sometimes just go back on itself. Not super consistent.

Unfortuntely I'm not super motivated to draw it. Like my art inspiration is kind of a bit seperate from whether I like the media or not. I even sometimes drew SCP I downvoted just because I like the visual enough. While a lot of the times, I didn't feel motivated to draw fanart of shows and movie even if I like them a lot.

I think part of it is because there are already so many great visuals? I drew SCP and TMA stuff a whole bunch because neither are super specific in visual stuff and I have all these blanks to fill. Or maybe not, because there are books I like but don't want to draw stuff about.

I dunno, my drawing motivation is just not super consistent, and I don't really understand why either.

Also some other rants about the show that may contain spoilers (about both the show and the comics):

These are just some rants, I still like the show in general.

I wish the dream effects are better. Like, there are some amazing scenes, but mostly I feel like the dreams have not been used super well. Corinthian’s teeth eyes could really do better too, it’s kind of hard to see instead of being horrifying.

They got rid of the waking up from a nightmare but turns out you are still in a nightmare endless loop thing! That one got me super scared back when I was reading the comic... and I was expecting it too... they just got rid of it.

The ending of the Doctor Destiny arc is kind of lame too? (...I know he’s not called that in this but I was a DC comics fan XD) The build up is great I like the complicated relationship between mother and son, and his interaction with the driver. But there’s so much build up and it just ends.

My favorite characters would be Lucienne, Hob Gadling and Gilbert XD Oh Gault is pretty cool too (tho those butterfly wings fly super awardly...)

Death is great but I’m sort of already expecting her cause of the comics, so there’s less of an impact.

I’m kind of super confused about the end scene with Lucifer actually, while I did not read all the comics, I kind of remember Lucifer giving away the key to hell to Dream, instead of like, wanting to bring him down to his knees or something.

Another thing is that, the weird stressing on human thing. Like they keep saying it was human’s existence that created them, but like, in the comics I specifically remember Dream appearing as a cat to cats... you know, in their dreams. It’s just weird...

#Sandman Spoilers

[m0e-ru]

art summaries from this year and the last !! 21-22 !!

and here's some more commentary for 2022 because i will be more annoying this year

January - not a lot happening. i was asking for art reqs and NO ONE had ideas

February - MOEL SEKIYU TUMBLR BRANCH TOHRU ADACHI BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION?

March - 3/20 YEAH WAHOOO YEAAAH

April - lots of messing around this month. my merch came in the mail though !!!

May - PXDN ERA but i answered the teddie in a dress ask from like. two months prior

June - * didnt post this anyway i was messing around with csp. i really like the marker

July - * DIDNT POST THIS EITHER but one idol's stage costume looked like sho colors. it was funny in the moment

August - * DIDNT FUCKING POST THIS EITHER I HAVE NO IDEA anyway i just think theyre very important

September - * HOW MANY BIG PIECES HAVE I NOT BEEN POSTING HERE WHAT THE FUCK WHERE DO I EVEN SHARE THEM ANYWAY MAKING THIS WAS REALLY SAD CHIZUSAN WAS RETIRING AND DELETED HER SOCIALS ohh right my mimbot

October - I was trying out watercolors (the brush) and MARIE HALLOWEEN 2022 !!!

November - pocky day :] except it's jagariko

December - new year's art !! ive been wanting to draw blorbo to sogabe's new year art from the manga so here it is !!! sorry for no christmas holiday art

and here’s the love letter ive been meaning to write all the way back in august. it’s a bit personal but also vague . I am speaking from a soapbox next to a quiet intersection and pouring my heart out

im happy to see how ive improved throughout the years, and in some aspects stayed completely the same apparently. ve been jumping around 1000 brushes and 10000 more art styles ive never stayed consistent because I wanted something new and all I had was myself ! so apparently it became whatever happened here.

It’s true I had a lot more steam last year when it came to pumping art out but I think im also glad I did less art this year in a way. I’ll admit a lot of last year was fueled by chasing people and a way to reach the top and get my voice heard I felt like I was fighting for my life but im not too sure how it looked like from the outside. It’s also been fueled by spite which made me incredibly tired and something im glad I stopped utilizing this year. That I learned my boundaries and maintained them as peacefully as I am now.

Sure im a lot more tired but I think the pace im taking is a bit better in it’s own way too. I really wish I could’ve done more this year but when I look at it from afar I guess im still chasing things, too. Maybe not something new and I never really aimed for fame or anything. Maybe I just wanted to keep what I already have?

2021 I’ll confess was also a pile of shit and I guess 2022 was the year of my digging it all away and I’m not done yet. But as long as there’s progress that’s good enough for me. I’m glad I’ve been able to do all these things than not do them at all. But sometimes I wish I could relearn the restraint I had from before.

I never wanted to put a dark stain on the things I love so as long as I ground myself and remind myself why im here I can see the light and remember why I love theses things. I’m speaking in a very vague manner and I am relating this to my time in fandom as cheesy as it sounds, but also personally, I guess.

Imagine it like im talking on a soapbox right now when I say im really glad for the time I’ve spent here—while all of it isn’t the best that could’ve happened and the fault of my own shortcomings—I still treasure it. I love all the people I’ve met and the community I’ve formed and I guess there’s this fear of losing things since I’m afraid I can’t get them back, that I haven’t learned how to even connect better anymore. I really dont want this to sound like someone died lol but I really am genuinely grateful for all the time ive spent with people and how they considered me their friend and how theyre my friend and how they just moved on to other things and im stuck in a box ive put myself in that makes it so hard to be heard I stopped talking anyway.

To those who met me this year, or last year, or the year before that, or knew me before this gas station, and still are here somehow: thank you. For your kindness, for your tags, for your asks, for your replies, for your messages, for your discords, for your writing, for your art and for everything you’ve offered me. I always mean my gratitude from the bottom of my heart and I want to stop being afraid that it doesn’t show.

If this year brings more “Mim” then so be it. I’m happy you find joy in the silly nickname and all the love behind it no matter how silly it is. And even if I drift away or we all drift apart, I treasure every memory and sometimes cry over it at night. I wish 2023 would be nice to all of us and the years after.

#kommento #arttag #// sorry for the sob story when i said id pour my heart out i didnt think id get that far #// well even if you dont read it . it's like a sealed letter you can keep like a lucky charm or something i like to think #// that theres a lot of love inside it's just radiating #// sorry just prepping for the horrors now that the holiday season is over im really distressed #// but i thank you all for the year and that i hope you get better that i get better no matter how little that better is #// i just hope it's a lot. #// and i will literally keep saying the same thing 100000000000 times and mean it every single time

[biot08]

It’s 0500 while I’m typing this, and you all need to know my opinions about SuperGiant games.

Bastion: Overhead isometric action adventure. Cute main protag. I liked the weapon variety. Has some of the best narration in gaming history. Like, whew, that man’s voice. I love the worldbuilding. It has a good soundtrack (they all have good soundtracks), but of them all, it’s the one I like least. Good first entry, and the beginning of something truly excellent. Transistor: Overhead isometric action adventure with an interesting sort of RPG-light advancement system and a game mechanic gimmick that I think it doesn’t -quite- pull off. This is so far into my aesthetic that it set up camp in my soul almost immediately and still lives there. Same narrator, but this time, he’s clueless rather than knowledgeable and wise. Still great narration though, please read a phone book at me some time. Sublime world, wished I could have visited it in the before times in a different context, maybe a cool RPG about the stagnation of society or something. Second most favourite of the soundtracks, the voice gimmick is very flavourful, very... ludonarrative? Pyre: Not sure how to describe this one. Side view sports game? I hate calling it fantasy basketball as I feel that sells it short, but that’s a common description of it. Weirdly far out of my general tastes in art direction and setting, but it does both so well that I love it anyway. Game play is tight and interesting. I like how it treats failure; losing a scenario in the game does not stop it from continuing the story. I also like how it feels sort of like an interactive novel, which is a nice touch of metanarrative. Favourite soundtrack, the last song never fails to cause me to tear up a bit. Also the narrator here is just great. I love him. He’s a jerk. Hades: Of all the entries in the list, this one is the most game. We are back to form, with overhead isometric action. Second most favourite soundtrack. Appreciate the amount and variety of conversations you can have, and how you progress multiple stories throughout the game. Failure is expected here, and happens smoothly while advancing your progress. Let me clarify what I meant when I said this is the most game: this is, seriously, one of the most tightly tuned gaming experiences I have ever had. It feels like almost anyone could get good at this game with enough time. It feels like it teaches the player very well, and that it won’t take long for a player to tune their own difficulty curve for their own gameplay style and preferences even without actively trying to do so. It’s a rogue like, so your runs are semi-randomized and levels are procedurally generated, but even a ‘bad’ run goes quick, allowing you to rapidly iterate and try again. This has just absolutely spoiled me for other games. The narrator here is good, but less involved than the ones in the other games. Your main character sometimes responds to him though, and that’s usually amusing. How to make a super giant game: Colorful and very internally consistent art direction. Banging soundtrack. Narrator as an important part of the experience. Tragedy, but temper it with hope and humanity. My cat’s at my arm purring. I’m going back to sleep.

#video game review

[mo79zz]

Intersections Evaluation

From start to finish, this project was a bit of a rollercoaster. I went through so many ideas before coming to a conclusion - which in turn delayed my starting point. I almost went through every idea on my mind map before settling on my final one. Even my final decision went through a long development process.

One thing that stayed consistent throughout was the fact I knew I wanted to do some sort of artwork/illustration, as this has been a recent interest of mine since starting the course.

I curated a lot of of research, from locations, other pieces of mural art and artists. This helped me kick off the design process as it gave me inspiration for styles and types of mural art I could design. I discovered I really liked the block colour style of art, particularly for my aim for this intersection - creating a more welcoming underpass that will hopefully decrease crime rates and the feeling of discomfort while passing through. After looking at Lauren McElroy's mural work, I began illustrating and planning my work. I thought it might be fun to do a map across the walls and ceiling of the underpass with a bus route over top to symbolise the bus journeys from Poole to all over the south coast.

However, once I began illustrating and drawing Poole Quay, I realised the style wasn't coming out how I had intended and it was quite accurate and had less of a hand drawn feel. I put these drawings to the side and began a block colour style piece, where I started to feel like I was properly progressing with this project. I designed it on procreate - a software I am comfortable using - and completely winged it. In future I will defiantly plan things out more, to ensure I have a general idea of what I want it to look like. Despite this, it didn't take much trial and error and I got quite lucky with the process of designing. This may not happen in the future so I need to ensure I plan and do more experiments with my designs as that is something I was also lacking. I ended up including the drawing of Poole Quay into my final mural instead of scrapping it completely and I'm glad I did.

One thing I didn’t think to consider when drawing up and planning my mural was the lighting on the ceiling of the underpass. I just began to draw, not thinking of the features inside. The lights in this underpass aren’t like most as in a lot that I’ve seen they’ve been in the corners whereas this one has them on the ceiling. Luckily they’re quite slim so don’t interfere with much of my artwork but this is something I seriously need to think about in the future as it could really impact my designs.

Something I wish I included in my mural would be small illustrations dotted throughout the mural for kids to try and find as they walk through. This is something that can be easily added in, however, I wasn't sure whether to keep adding or to leave it as is, as I didn't want it to be too overwhelming. Additionally, I would have loved to extend my mural outside of the underpass to potentially revisit the map idea. If I’d have had more time this could have potentially been possible but nonetheless, I’m still happy with the design I achieved. Another thing I think would have been a great addition to my project would be to do some more primary research, such as public survey’s questioning how people feel in this area of town and how they think a mural may make them feel. This is something I will 100% consider doing in future projects to help me gain a better understanding of my target audience and the end product effects.

Adding an ambigram to the floor of the underpass was a last minute thing, however I think it came out really good and makes it feel more finished - the same goes for the entrance/exit signage on the outside of the underpass, right before you walk in, giving you an idea of the direction where you're going and what can be found at this side. This plays on my original map idea, without it feeling too extreme.

Overall, I am really really pleased with how it came out and I think without the slight artist block after changing my ideas countless times, I wouldn't have gotten to the place I ended up. There is for sure room for improvement, like with any project, but with the time I had to create it, I am more than happy.

Bibliography

‘Art Project Turns Bedfordshire House into Children’s Mural’. BBC News, 16 Apr. 2021. www.bbc.co.uk, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-56758293.

designboom, erika kim I. ‘“xylophone Bridge” by Yeon Jae Won + Soo Jeong Heo “Seoul Cycle Design” Competition Shortlist Revealed’. Designboom | Architecture & Design Magazine, 12 Sept. 2010, https://www.designboom.com/design/xylophone-bridge-by-yeon-jae-won-soo-jeong-heo-seoul-cycle-design-competition-shortlist-revealed/.

HOME | PAINTSHOP | STUDIO & GALLERY. https://paintshopstudio.com/. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

‘Lauren McElroy Signature Series Murals’. L Star Murals, https://www.lstarmurals.com/page-5. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

Martin, Graham. ‘Rainbow Crossings Could Cause Accidents Say Charities - TFN’. Third Force News, 29 Oct. 2021, https://tfn.scot/news/rainbow-crossings-could-cause-accidents-say-charities.

‘Mural Painting Brings Smiles to Rohingya Children Healing From Trauma’. UNICEF USA, https://www.unicefusa.org/stories/mural-painting-brings-smiles-rohingya-children-healing-trauma. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

‘New Art Mural Set to “Brighten up” Poole High Street’. Bournemouth Echo, 16 Nov. 2022, https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/23123853.soon-revealed-art-mural-set-transform-wall-poole/.

‘Poole Town Centre Subway Is “revamped” by Art Student’. Bournemouth Echo, 2 Apr. 2021, https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/19205787.poole-town-centre-subway-revamped-art-student/.

‘Yinka Ilori Builds Colourful Lego Launderette in East London’. Dezeen, 28 Oct. 2021, https://www.dezeen.com/2021/10/28/yinka-ilori-lego-launderette-of-dreams-east-london/.

#visualcommunication #intersections #year 1 #level 4 #unit 1

[lostonyon]

Nurse Barbatos is everything… 😩 hnnngggg

Tried out a new coloring technique and asdfghjklkjshs I’m in love

#nurse barb legit broke me when I first saw it #like good lord..I already simp so hard you go and make my simp meter go overboard #THIIIIGHS I JUST LEMME GET BEWTEEN THEM #changed around my eyes style again tooooo ahhhhh #I wish I could just be consistent with my art style but I’m still trying to figure it out #obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me fandom #obey me shall we date #obey me fanart #obey me art #obey me game #obey me one master to rule them all #shall we date barbatos #om! barbatos #omswd barbatos #omswd #barbatos fanart #Barbatos #otome #otome fanart #ube art

[sivsii]

How did you go from drawing animals to drawing humans? How did you adapt? I'm having a hard time doing it...

Honestly I really struggled with it for a long time, too. I spent like 2 or 3 years trying to practice human anatomy and very occasionally doing the odd piece of fanart here and there, but it was hard for me to translate anything I was learning into casual art and gain actual mileage until I got into critical role and was motivated to be drawing every week. Being able to separate myself from that “practice practice practice” mindset and become less analytical while I drew meant that any practice/study I was doing was less “I’m practicing aimlessly with no clear end-result to motivate me” and more “I wanna draw a thing I like > I don’t know how to draw this particular thing > I’m going to problem-solve until I figure it out > I drew a thing I like!” and then repeat. Basically, practice as a problem-solving means to an enjoyable end, rather than the end itself. It’s still hard, and time-consuming and frustrating for a while, but in my experience it was a far more productive way of learning than trying to separate practicing and drawing into two different things.

That all said, tho:

Tracing is your best friend when you’re trying to draw something new. Find some reference photos, trace them in a way that breaks them down into simple shapes, and then reference those tracings and redraw the pose. This does two things: the tracing helps build muscle-memory and familiarize yourself with the body without having to do a ton of thinking - a pretty relaxing/mindless and quick exercise to do as warm-ups. And then referencing that tracing can (again) help build muscle-memory through repetition, but also gives you a more more simplified form to recreate without getting lost in details. I do this both as occasional practice sessions and when I want references for actual drawings I’m doing, which is actually pretty often still

As a slightly more intensive version of this exercise: you can also look at (artistic) references of musculature, and then look at reference photos to try and to identify where the most recognizable muscles are and how they work in action.

That all said, the human body is squishy as fuck. Like seriously, knowing skeletal/muscle landmarks is fine and all, but my art really improved once I started recognizing how mailable and inconsistent most forms are. To help with that, an exercise I like is to doodle lumpy shapes either as general warm-up, or when I’m tracing/referencing a photo like in the aforementioned exercises. It helps with line confidence and comfortability.

One of the things I struggled with was style consistency. Knowing that I had something established in one area of drawing but not in another really tripped me up, but the sooner I got out of my own head about trying to manufacture a style, the sooner I was productively learning. A style will develop naturally as a result of personal influence and developing your own shorthand, and will eventually merge with or existing styles.

Watch how other people do things. Borrow their stylistic quicks and shorthands and try them out for yourself. Tutorials and walk-throughs of people explaining their processes is something I like having on in the background, and it can be surprising what you absorb through them.

It might just be because I’m an absolute nerd, but I could pour over anatomy/art books all day, and I’m certain that they’ve positively influenced my art in the last few years even tho I never actually read through them. I’ll reblog with a list of recs, but books on either art anatomy or books of concept/development art are both super valuable to at least browse through.

I wish I was better at offering advice, but really all I can close out with is how important I think it is for you to find something you enjoy drawing. Practice sessions are good, but it’s really valuable to problem-solve as a means of learning, and not get caught in the mindset of “drawing and practicing are separate things, and I need to practice X amount of times before I can start drawing things I like” really just go for it and try to enjoy yourself. There are so many ways to practice, and no chronological way of going about it. It’s kinda just a process of bouncing around, finding what works and when, and learning as you go. It’s gonna be frustrating and hard at first, but you gotta push through and eventually you’ll see progress.

#sivsi speaks #asks #art tips #art stuff #this is an unhelpful mess I’m sure #It’s hard when there isn’t really a set method for improvement #it’s all a lot of “fuck around and find out” tbh and the most helpful is to try and get to a place where you enjoy what you do #thats what’s most productive at the end of the day imo! #but it can be frustrating to go from something u feel skilled in to something that makes you feel like you’ve undone #years of artistic progress #the starting point always sucks and it sucks even more when you know you’re capable of better

[nctsworld]

skateboard love

✩‌ yangyang x reader | skater boy!yangyang | college au | fluff | 2.2k

SUMMARY | yangyang tries to get you to skateboard for the first time and in doing so, you’re taken back to when you first met him. // for @notnctu​’s beginning collab! WARNINGS | slight injury (reader trips over a curb), one swear word, kissing RATING | teen+ TAGLIST | @infnteen​

“I can’t do this,” you mutter, shaking your head in defeat.

The ocean waves clamour nearby as you stare down at the skateboard and concrete pavement beneath your sneakers in frustration.

The weight of your helmet and the wrist guards are blatant in your every movement. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing at your age, but it’d be best to rather be safe than sorry.

Thankfully, they’ve been coming in handy during the times you almost fell and slipped off of your boyfriend’s skateboard. It may have been his idea to try to learn, but you weren’t opposed to it, thinking it’d be easy.

They say things are easier said than done, and now you’re forced to admit skateboarding definitely falls under that list.

“Yes, you can,” Yangyang softly says. Beside you, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, causing you to peer into his gleaming eyes and bright smile.

Despite the recentness of your relationship, your boyfriend’s patience and encouragement feels like routine, like he’s been by your side for your entire life. His words don’t fall on deaf ears; you parrot his smile and muster a small nod, albeit glancing away shyly.

“Just think about all the times you’ve watched me skate past the library and copy what I did.”

Petulantly, you stick your tongue out. “It wasn’t that often.”

Disbelief reflects back at you in the form of an eyebrow raise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Around mid-September, in the most modern, glass-structured library on campus, you found a studying area that was perfect for you.

Main floor, nearby the entrance doors for an easy exit when class was about to roll around. A high stool chair that was cushioned comfortably for endless hours of equal parts studying and procrastination. Plugs and desk space galore.

Above all, it was perfect because you had the picturesque view of the boy who always skated every other day around 11:50am towards his next class across the wide stoned boulevard in front of the library.

You noticed him the first few times when you initially sat upstairs. Even from afar and above, your interest was piqued over how coolly he skated past all the students. There were only so many students who biked to their next class, and even less who skateboarded.

And after you decided to sit downstairs for once to finally steal a closer glimpse of him, you were completely smitten upon capturing his handsome features.

Thus, your heart constantly raced in anticipation when 11:50am hit, as students scattered all across campus during this transition period. 

With a thumb tucked in his pocket and headphones over his ears to boot, the mystery skater boy often slid past around 11:55am, making your mind wonder where his former class was and where he was going. Was he in Engineering? Arts? Business?

The latter option didn’t seem likely since his style didn’t echo the stereotypical look of the faculty. Dark coloured hoodies and sweaters, bomber jackets, and skinny jeans were his usual choice of fashion, alongside the occasional baseball cap. And on the days he wore his cap backwards, he was truly in his skater element.

No matter, you always swooned with your chin perched atop your fist or resting inside your palm as he passed by. The brief sighting of him easily became the highlight of your day.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t try to look for him in your classes, but to no avail. You had to live with the fact that you’d only get to know him in passing as he skated on by the library.

When the mere hoodies and sweaters were exchanged for heavier, thicker jackets and coats, he still continued to traverse across campus via his unsurprising mode of transportation. You especially admired his dedication on the days filled with rain and wind, wishing there was some way for you to ease his trips to his next class.

All throughout the couple of months, he was consistent in attending that one class.

Except one day.

It was a Friday, about a week or two near finals season. The weather was quite chilly now, but snow wouldn’t be an issue until after winter break and well into the next semester, so there wasn’t any reason for him to not use his skateboard still.

Maybe he was sick at home, you thought. Pouting, you tried not to dwell over the stranger because that’s all what he was. 

Someone you didn’t know, someone you only watched from afar. Someone that filled your daydreams, pondering what he’d be like and what’d you two could talk about... but nevertheless a stranger.

Oddly enough, about an hour past noon, someone dragged you out of your thoughts momentarily as they unusually sat nearby your spot. 

The unspoken library etiquette was to sit as far away from others for more personal space, especially in the area where you frequented. You tried your best to ignore the shuffling of the person placing their laptop and books onto the elongated wall-length table, feigning laser-focus on your notes.  

But a few moments later, you heard a whisper coming from their direction.

“Is this your favourite spot in the library?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dragging your headphones down to your shoulders as you swivelled towards the seated stranger. Air seized in your lungs and your eyebrows shot up.

The gorgeous skater boy glowed with rosy cheeks from the cold air outside, paired with his stunning smile. You realized this was the first time you’ve ever seen him smile—preciously, by the way, with his teeth on full display—and your heart stirred like crazy.

A beat stretched out. Your jaw hung in shock and you blinked blankly. Guess you solved the mystery as to where he was today.

He beamed more intensely at your awe struck and continued to whisper, “I always see you sitting here when I get to my next class.”

“Uhm,” your jaw snapped up, prior to your dry gulp. “What?”

“Yeah,” his deep chuckling tickled your ear. God, of course a smooth voice matched a face like that. “you stare out the window so cutely whenever I pass by the library.”

A record scratched, then you rewound the moment in your head. Not only did he knew you existed but...

Did he just called you cute?

Catching on with awareness over his own words, the skater boy pouted to one side. His cheek jutted out adorably and red seemed to crawl over them, progressing over to the tips of his ears too.

Light giggling from both parties filled the space, with you tucking your hair behind your ear and him tugging on the ends of his sweater paws.

“So, are you skipping class?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing towards his busy study set-up ahead of him. It was a similar scene to yours—notes layered and layered upon each other, a laptop which displayed more notes, and a few textbooks were open too. “When you need to skip a class to study for another class...”

You nodded sympathetically, pointing a finger to your organized mess to imply the same. “Finals season.”

He nodded as well in unity and you two exchanged another round of smiles.

“I’m Yangyang.”

With that, introductions were made and bits of information were shared. Your hunch was right—he was in Engineering, but he also had some elective labs that were being held in the Science side of campus. Made sense why he had to navigate across campus from one end to the other.

Before the conversation began to get carried away, he issued a small apology. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be interrupting your studying. I’ll leave you be.”

Admittedly, it caught you off guard. You wanted to pipe up about how he wasn’t interrupting, that you wanted to dive into getting to know him more. You’ve seen him practically almost every day for the last couple of months and you didn’t want to let this chance slip through your fingers.   

Yet, at the same time, you begrudgingly knew he was right. You had to study for your upcoming in-class final, so you held your thoughts back and unwillingly turned back to your responsibility at hand. 

It was difficult to study with skater boy being in the same vicinity as you—practically an arm’s length away from you—but you eventually tampered down your jitters and honed your attention.

Hours passed. Neither of you really shifted much besides the casual stretching or the much needed break to the bathroom.

Darkness loomed in the winter sky and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him writing, which he hadn’t done during the time he’d been there.

And then, after an ear-piercing slow rip of paper that echoed in the library, he slid that piece of paper in your direction with one simple question that ignited the spark for the beginning of you and him—

I know we just met, but do you want to go out sometime?

“’Cause if I recall...” Yangyang continues, breaking you away from your bout of reminiscing. He absentmindedly tucks away some loose strands of hair sticking out of your helmet. “You watched me at least since the beginning of last semester—”

“Nu-uh,” you cut in, lying in a childish tone.

“Yuh-huh,” he rebuttals.

Under the warm afternoon sunlight, you two begin to have a staring contest, squinting and playfully seething at one another. When your boyfriend squints harder with a ruffle of his nose, you follow suit. Eventually, you give in with a sigh.

“Okay, fine. Even if I did watch you a lot, it doesn’t mean I can just absorb your skateboarding skills through memory.”

Cockiness fades over his joking exterior as he flashes you a shit-eating grin. “It’s cause you were too busy focusing on my handsome face.”

Becoming second nature for you by now as he’s often like this, you roll your eyes and lightly punch him in the arm, but... he isn’t wrong.

And from your lack of an articulate response, Yangyang knows he’s right.

Sparing you from injuring your pride further, he swings the conversation back to what you were doing here in the first place. 

A hand of his steadies you by the bottom of your back. “Balancing feels weird, I know, but you’ll get the hang of it. Let’s try again.”

Releasing a lengthy exhale, your head bounces fervently in hopes that false confidence and your boyfriend’s support can morph into a successful skateboard run.

The careful push he gives you is ample enough to have you ride down the street by yourself. Your body wavers side by side and you fear that you’ll teeter to a stop like all the other times, but somehow, your foot swipes across the pavement, carrying you further down the street.

It’s not fast by any means, but as you persistently execute it, you gain traction and see yourself finally riding without any issues.  

“Yangyang, I got it. I got it!” you shriek as you quickly glance back towards him.

He radiates in response and gets lost in you, equally proud that you finally found your balance and basking in how stunning you look as you coast down the beach side street.

However, his trance breaks when he sees you’re about to hit the edge of a street curb.

“Babe, watch ou—”

The scene happens fast. You’re suddenly laying on a patchy part of the grass, with the skateboard by your feet. Yangyang bolts to you, hunching down as he daintily tugs you to sit upward.

“You okay?” he pants nervously.

At first, you nod without a thought since the helmet and wrist guards have saved you from any potential major injuries. 

However, your boyfriend’s eyes widen when out of nowhere, you draw in air between clenched teeth. Your butt feels as if it’s on fire, since it was actually the body part that mostly broke your fall.  

He suggests to sit here for a while to let the pain dissipate, reassuring you’ll be fine from his own past experiences. 

As you rest awkwardly beside him on the grass, placing weight on your hip rather than your rear end, he aids you in ridding of your safety gear. Once they’re off, he kisses your hand tenderly.

“Maybe we should leave the skateboarding to me, for now,” he mumbles softly into your skin, leaving another kiss upon your hand.

You mope in agreement. “Maybe so...”

Caressed in his arms, you link eyes with him. Your eyes flutter to a close while he delicately eases you into him by the back of your neck.

The intense pressing of his lips against yours feels heavenly, almost entirely sedating your mild pain. He kisses you deeper, disregarding everyone and everything in proximity. You reciprocate it all back eagerly, cupping his cheek and gripping onto his strong frame as you do so.

Peeling away breathlessly, you tip your forehead against his. “Should we go back to the library and have me watch you longingly from our old spot?”

Yangyang hurriedly shakes his head.

“Nope. Never again,” he replies, his thumb stroking your cheek. “If you’re watching me skateboard, you’ll be doing it by my side from now on, beautiful.”

A chuckle trickles from you. You’re about to retort back, but your one and only skater boy diverts your train of thought, dragging you in for another long, blissful kiss. 

#yangyang x reader #yangyang fluff #yangyang fanfic #yangyang imagines #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #wayv fluff #wayv imagines #wayv fanfic #yn brainrot #beginningscollab

[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

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

[defdaily]

GQ Korea Magazine June 2021 issue featuring JAY B: in transition

To prove himself, JAY B is constantly changing. Because he has so much to show.

Translated by defdaily

Your greeting from the video earlier was new. You said “This is GOT7’s JAY B and H1GHR MUSIC’s JAY B.” After GOT7 parted ways with JYP Entertainment, you told fans that you were a freelancer and I guess you’ve found your spot.

Yes. It has not been announced officially yet but I’m H1GHR MUSIC’s JAY B. I told fans I was a freelancer as a joke. I like communicating with fans as if we’re friends. But I was looking for a company at that time too.

How did you make your decision?

Of course I thought about it a lot. I talked with various companies, but when considering the freedom and synergy, I felt like H1GHR MUSIC fit me well. That seemed like the best decision.

What kind of synergy and effect are you looking forward to?

I don’t think “I’m definitely hip-hop!” just because I joined a hip-hop label. I think that through the label I can show R&B, dance and pop genres too. I want to attempt different things without any boundaries.

What did you talk about with H1GHR MUSIC’s CEO Jay Park?

From my point of view, it’s a new challenge so I was a little anxious. But Jay Bum hyung’s thoughts were similar to mine and said I could do music comfortably and didn’t wish for any certain colour, because if you keep focusing on one thing, you’ll slowly be locked in it, and said it’s good to try out different things. That’s what he told me.

Will this period of time divide JAY B of the past and future?

Of course it will. If previously it was a situation where I mainly received benefits from the company, now that I have the autonomy, I feel that I should do things myself and I grew a deeper sense of responsibility in that way. I think there’s a need to be more proactive. And I plan on prudently moving forward one step at a time with an appropriate amount of nervousness. Because this is the process of starting from the beginning, I am very careful about every decision.

What factors influenced your decision the most?

Feeling/intuition. I have a feeling of whether I think I should do something or not.

It feels like you have a pretty good sense of the direction you want to move forward in.

I asked Jay Bum hyung why he recruited me and he said that skills were of course a factor but that I seemed like I would work hard consistently. It’s a given to be working hard on your own things but the most important thing is consistency. I've been doing that for a long time, and I'll continue to do what I've been doing.

Do you have any values that you’ve held on for a long time?

I’ve always thought that it’s important to never forget the things that I’ve done and have been doing. I debuted as GOT7. I cannot just suddenly say “I’m not an idol,” and I do not want to disappoint the fans. I’m very thankful. While promoting as part of GOT7, I never forgot the fact that I started as a b-boy at first and that I’m a person who likes hip-hop.

People’s expectations are high because of GOT7’s achievements. On one hand, there must be people viewing you thinking ‘let's see how well it could go.’

I am mindful of that. But it’s just GOT7 JB that was that big, JAY B as an individual isn’t that great. To be honest, sometimes I think that I’m nothing. If you ask people my age which idols they know, even if many people know about GOT7, they might not know me very well. It’s important to be acknowledged for my music but I feel like I have to get my name out there first. There is someone called GOT7’s JAY B, H1GHR MUSIC’s JAY B. I feel like this is just the beginning for me.

It sounds like you are at a point where you feel the need to prove yourself. Do you not worry that fans might not be accepting if you do what you like and want to do?

Rather than being worried, I see it as something that could happen. For example, I could use profanity or harsh expressions if I feel that they’re needed for better musical completion. I can’t help it if some fans who used to like me as an idol hear that and turn their backs. I also don’t want to give up or lose my own standards because of such reactions.

I see you're very determined to make creations of your own. I heard that you're going to release a new song soon. How is it?

The title is Switch It Up. Should I say it’s close to Hip-Hop Dance? It’s a different style from what I have been making consistently under the name Def. You could say it is a little similar to the solo songs I’ve included in GOT7 albums before. I focused on the purpose of informing the public and the music scene that “I think I will do this sort of music in the future." I’m also sending a message to fans saying that I’ll be starting to promote actively again so look forward to it.

I'm curious. Is there any image that came to mind while working on it?

A sexy image. If I use Def. to freely express my personal stories in any genre, I made a distinction that JAY B does cool and sexy music. Regardless, they are both me, but JAY B is more like a fictional character who can show various sides of me.

What do you think are your strengths as an artist?

There is no such thing. I never thought that an artist should be a certain type of way. I think an artist is one who lives the same life as others, but feels differently, and knows how to express that well. As a matter of fact, anyone can do that. Even everyday office workers, when their stress piles and piles and they scribble down their emotions then toss the paper out, I think that can be a way of art too.

I like that. In any form, what do you want to talk about the most now?

That’s what I’m contemplating a lot right now. I think I’ve been pouring out too much. When writing songs, making the melody or arranging the music isn’t that hard but I don’t know what to write about. The same goes for coming up with titles too. No matter how hard I try to come up with an idea, I can’t think of one. I just think, “ I guess it'll just come out gradually.”

Not as JAY B but as Lim Jaebeom, what have you been thinking about or trying to do?

I try to think positively.

Ah not long ago, we saw you posted on your Instagram “Let’s try to think positively.”

I had quite a lot of worries and a negative mindset. A lot of people may live with unnecessary worries but I’m a little worse. I guess it’s my nature. So I try my best to relax my heart/mind and say “it’s good,” “everything will be okay.”

In introspection, what is something that you are most satisfied with?

That’s hard. No matter how hard I think about it, I feel like there's nothing I like about myself at the moment.

Why? Did something change?

No, it’s not that. Even with one thing, one day you could like it and another day you could dislike it. It’s natural to change your mind. So when I speak, I often use the terms “always” and “at the moment.” Anyways, it’s not that I think that my current self is completely bad, but I’m not satisfied to the point where I would go “wow.”

Then, among the various images that you embody, which do you feel is the piece of clothing that fits perfectly?

I think naturally, the clothing of the name Lim Jaebeom is the most natural and comfortable. Because I’ve got a good hold of the side that is most like me, there can exist Def., JAY B of GOT7 and JAY B of H1GHR MUSIC. Oh, I could explain it like this. If Lim Jaebeom is the earth, just as there exists oceans, mountains, and cities within it, there are various sides of myself that are making up my life.

What will happen to GOT7 in the future?

We probably will not be able to promote as actively as before, but the members and I are trying our best to do anything. I often look up and watch videos of when we were promoting and I miss the GOT7 from those days. The overflowing passion and energy as well. Looking back, it was really fun. It's similar to the feeling of reminiscing about school days.

What did you gain personally from the past 7 years promoting as GOT7?

Should I say, I think I’ve gained expertise? People around me say I’ve become much more relaxed now. But I still get nervous. I was nervous even before today’s shoot. But in turn, I’ve gained ways to overcome the nerves. I guess that comes to show that I’ve become experienced

What kind of person does Lim Jaebeom want to be?

I wish I could be endlessly kind and do only good things, but in reality, that’s impossible. As you live you could unintentionally make mistakes and cause disappointment. Nevertheless, I definitely do not want to become a shrewd person, I despise being scheming and fooling people. I don’t want to be that kind of person and neither do I want to be on the receiving end. But it’s still a bit of a mystery if it’s okay to say "I'm going to be this kind of person." Because as I mentioned before, my current feelings and thoughts change frequently just as trends do.

I guess those words right there can change too.

That’s right. That's why I'm cautious about doing interviews. If I talk about something, there will be articles pouring out that say JAY B said this and JAY B said that. Although we’re doing an interview today like this, if I was asked the same question tomorrow, I could have a different response.

How should we wrap up this interview for you to sleep soundly?

This was the story of Lim Jaebeom on May 4th, 2021. I think this will be okay.

Translated by defdaily.

#def. #jaebeom #defdaily #lim jaebeom #defdaily:trans #got7 #got7 jb #interviewtrans #jay b