#been in the pixel game since this semester

[octocookies]

*I have risen from my graves.*

As some of you may know, i have been working on a videogame this semester. Since ive been drawing a bunch, i thought i should post some of the stuff!

Designs are by the animalistic @ wo_oko (insta)

[quillswriting]

Writerblr Introduction

Intro to Me!

🪷 Hello all, I'm Quill and I've been writing since I could remember honestly. 

🌺 I'm currently 22 and I go by she/her pronouns. I'm in my undergraduate degree, about two semesters away from graduating with a BA in Biology. 

🪷 I met my husband playing D&D so I am constantly working on D&D stuff for our group to play - either for my husband to DM or for me to DM.

🌺 My main area of writing has been modern fantasy in recent years, with some sprinkles of sci-fi, romance, or high fantasy thrown into the mix. 

🪷 I have a couple of projects that causally work on, though that list fluctuates quite a bit sometimes lol. Most would be categorized as either YA or New Adult. 

🪷 I look forward to interacting with others and talking about our WIPs! 

🌺 My asks are open - always feel free to drop an ask or a comment or to start a chat!

🪷 I love sci-fi, fantasy (of all types!), worldbuilding, the found families trope (I might have this in several of my stories lol), supernatural fiction (like vampires, werewolves, witches, etc)

🌺 I have two other blogs - a witchcraft blog (+ a few random things), @mystics-scribes, and a bujo/planning blog, @quills-planning

My WIPs

project.ties

My main WIP and the first in a series of modern fantasy novels following a vampire woman from the viking age. Her family is being hunted and threatened, so she’s called to protect a family that forced her out just about two decades earlier. 

project.worldsD&D

My D&D campaign series, I'm currently working on Adventure 2 of 3 since we wrapped up Adventure 1 about two months ago. The PCs are going from the Steampunk fantasy world of Adventure 1 to the Science Fantasy world of Adventure 2 while following and investigating the Divines they encountered throughout Adventure 1.

project.survival

A science/high fantasy/political drama story, as either a pixel video game or a visual novel, following a group of young adults (that are aliens) attempting to survive a game their gods have divised in order to test if their species is still worthy of living - if they fail the game their entire race will be wiped from the face of their planet and all other planets they inhabit. 

project.videogameD&D

My Husband’s custom TTRPG system that’s based around some of the basics of D&D. It’s mostly all his, but I’ve been assisting him quite a bit - especially with typing things up so he has organized notes and things for himself and the nine players (!!!!). 

project.witchcastle

My on and off visual novel project that’s mostly for fun to learn different vn mechanics, especially since project.survival is going to at least have some vn mechanics (even if it is a pixel game)

What I’ll Blog About - Posts & Reblogs

🪷 project.ties updates on writing and worldbuilding

🌺 project.worldsD&D updates on outlining and prop creation

🪷 project.survival updates on writing and worldbuilding, with some artwork thrown in there

🌺 project.witchcastle updates on writing and worldbuilding, also with some artwork

🪷 Writing advice, my own and reblogged

🌺 Intro posts from others

🪷 Visual novel design guides and information

🌺 Game design guides and information

🪷 Book announcements from myself and others

🌺 Please let me know if you'd like to be on my tag list!!

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 3 - Avoidance▸Shigaraki x femReader

Summary:

◤You roll your eyes. Why the fuck do you feel like you’ve done something wrong—like it’s your fault? Didn’t you bury all those useless feelings all the way down? Clearly not. 

Maybe it’s the guilt streak that you’ve been on since your class together on Monday, combined with ghosting that guy at the arcade, that prompts you to go ahead and do something really, really stupid.

“Hey,” you whisper, tapping your fingers against the surface of the neighboring desk to get his attention. Why are you doing this again? 

“Hey, dude.” You test his patience a little louder this time and he turns his head, glaring daggers at you.◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four

Chapter 3 - Avoidance

Ding!

The front door to the store opens and another customer strolls in, politely getting in line behind the one you’re about to serve.

“Hi, how may I help you today?” you ask, giving them your fakest smile and using the most saccharine high-pitched voice that would put discord kittens to shame.

It’s Wednesday today and this marks your third shift at Cinnabon. You had to look for a job after buying one too many League skins, your scholarship not being enough to cover all of your bills in the past few months. You’re still refusing to come to terms with how financially wasteful you generally are, especially when it comes to detrimental impulse-purchases for in-game cosmetics.

It’s gonna be fiiiine, you tell yourself, there’s no way this will bite you in the ass!

Except it has and you’ve already had to borrow money from Taylor before, otherwise you would’ve been evicted. 

That in and of itself was a huge wake-up call to you, since it’s a) absolutely shameful to owe your friend rent money, because you couldn’t help yourself pimping out your online-pixels (you do look bitchin’, though) and b) ridiculously terrifying, because what if your friend didn’t exist to pick you up? What then? 

You don’t want to get your ass kicked out on the streets mid-semester in autumn and end up making buddies with the bridge hobos. You really can’t afford that, and unlike most people, you lack the safety net to fall back on. There’s no family on standby for you, ready to jump whenever you sink. So let this be the last fucking time you’ll ever need anyone’s help getting by.

You don’t need anyone to fucking save you. 

Not anymore.

Which brings you to the current part-time, where you work from 5 PM to 11 PM.

“Anything else, sir?” Gene assists you while bagging the delicious cinnamon buns for the customer to take home. You ended up getting sick of the cinnamon smell pretty much by the end of your first shift on the job.

Secretly rolling your eyes at the way the customer throws you his change, you briefly glance at the clock. 

It’s currently 10:45 PM and the mall is about to close down for the day. Most of the footsteps are thankfully dwindling down and setting pace towards the exit, while the stores around Cinnabon already let their front shutters down.

Gene shoots you and Mary, your teenage(?) coworker, a pointed look.

“You kids can start cleaning up, I’ll do inventory.”

He’s in his late 50s, wearing a pair of yellow-tinted glasses (ones that you’re pretty sure went out of style around ‘09) and hiding his receding hairline under the Cinnabon cap that’s part of your uniform get-up. This is Gene, the legend who hired an ambitionless brat like you on spot.

He’d said he “Saw potential in you, kid,” whatever the fuck that meant. 

You didn’t argue, though, not when you can use the slightly-above-minimum-wage job. So here you fucking are, trying your damnedest not to beat the living shit out of every second asshole who walks in here and acts like they fucking own you.

“You girls can leave after you’re done, I’ll close up. Good work today,” he says as he does every time, and without fail, you also routinely respond with an:

“I’ll stay and help.”

Mary had already bounced by now, saying she had to catch a movie with a friend or something. You didn’t really listen to her rambling because you really didn’t care.

“Nah, this is part of my routine. Go home and catch some Z’s, kiddo. You look like you need it,” he dismisses you with a smug smile. 

You almost want to tell them that you’ll probably use that time to sink more countless hours in some videogame instead, but you hold back.

So instead of replying, you just nod, grab your things and leave dressed in your work uniform. You’re too tired to change your clothes and decide you’ll catch the bus like this, even though you probably smell like a whole ass cinnamon factory. 

God, you can’t wait to get home and wash this shit off.

─────────

The cool air of humid rainy weather hits your warm oven-baked cheeks first, as you step outside of the mall. 

It’s already so dark, but since this is the posh part of the city you live in, you’re quite unlikely to run into as many weirdos as you would in your own neighborhood alleyway.

On your way to the bus station, you notice a small arcade and wonder if you should go in for a round. It’s probably a bad idea, considering you’re tight on savings… but it’s not like your trigger-spending habits will disappear overnight, so—

Fuck it.

Unable to resist temptation, you reach into your pockets to feel for any coins, and when you finally find a (very) small fortune of today’s tips, you step inside.

You’re greeted by a flurry of different sensations as you step into the colorful wonderland of electronic games. The first thing that your awareness picks up being the cacophony of familiar sounds, such as the clinking of coins, or many different old games screaming for you to play them. 

The second thing you notice is the variety of screens and their rainbow of glowing colors, casting light on a floor that hasn’t been cleaned in god knows how long.

Then there’s the smell. A tinge of candy-like sweetness in the otherwise stuffy room, seeing as the only real ventilation the place gets, is when people pass through the automatic sliding doors.

It’s a pleasant chaos that throws you right to the past. You don’t usually find yourself in arcades, for the simple fact that you have a pretty good gaming rig at home—and because you are a social recluse.

You make your way through the maze of games, claw machines, gambling stations and the like, feeling your heartbeat pick up in excitement for the first time in a while, and keeping an eye out for your favorite arcade game:

Sunset Riders.

That game was like your bread and butter when you were a kid. 

Whenever your shitty foster parents were too busy knocking each other’s teeth out, you’d snatch some of their hidden savings and slip outside of the house to run to the local arcade—nevermind that the reason they were fighting was because they blamed each other for the disappearing funds, thinking booze and gambling. 

You walk around the few rows of machines without any luck and almost give up when you reach the back of the venue—until you finally see it, shining in all its glory.

But much to your disappointment, some fucking guy is already occupying the machine.

The establishment is almost empty this late in the day, save for a group of drunk students you saw on the way here and maybe the bozo trying to win his girlfriend an overpriced stuffed animal at one of the rigged claw machines.

So what’s the fucking chance some guy hogs a game that came out decades ago, the one night you decide to walk into this arcade?

Astronomical, you decide.

He side-eyes you for a second when he notices you standing there with a look of thought on your face, and when you turn on your heel to leave, he speaks up: 

“Oh, u-umm—you—you don’t have to leave!” He scratches the back of his head and mumbles in a boyish voice. 

The guy looks like he’s in his twenties, but you can’t be sure under the flickering dimmed screens and the overall dark ambient. He has long hair that seems either red or purple and wears a black jacket on top of a (possibly) white hoodie.

“I was just about to quit anyway. You can have it.” He exits his round and turns to you, mouth opening and closing before he continues speaking, “Have you, uh—have you played this one before?” he asks, fidgeting. “Ah, shit. That was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Ha ha… sorry.”

There’s no way you’d walk all the way to the back of an arcade for a game if you didn’t know about it beforehand, he quickly realizes. And for some reason that was his tipping point, the one that pushes him to abruptly take his leave, walking past you. 

But before he’s out of hearing range, your mouth opens to answer.

“I used to play this a lot as a kid,” you say, throwing a thumb back, towards the machine, wondering why exactly you’re revealing this piece of information to a complete fucking stranger. It’s so extremely unlike you.

He turns around, eyes wide and he rewards you with a nervous smile. “Y-Yeah? Same here! I used to play this shit all the time, actually. It’s my favorite a-arcade g-game.”

You briefly wonder if he’s stuttering because of his nature or if you came across as unapproachable, as your insecurity goblins were tap-dancing on top of your brain, recalling various people telling you they avoided you because they thought you were a bitch.

Most of the time, it served you well. You don’t talk to people, you don’t engage in banter or meaningless small-talk with them. You’ve made one friend in god knows how many years, for fuck’s sake.

So why are you doing something so unlike you today?

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile of your own. “It’s my favorite too. Honestly, I didn’t expect this tiny ass arcade to even have a copy.”

He frowns at you as though you’d insulted his ancestors. 

“Huh?! It’s not that small, man! T-They have plenty of games, I could show you!” he speaks up, if a little too loudly, then proceeds to stumble on his words, and get red in the face. Or purple. You couldn’t be sure. “A-Ah! Shit—I mean, if—if you’d like to. M-My name’s Shuichi!” 

“Alright, Shuichi,” you say, letting out a rare giggle and cocking your brow. “Lead the fucking way.”

His eyes go wide in presumably shock. You actually said yes to that word vomit and didn’t up and leave. It was something that took you by surprise too, if you were honest.

But you never are. Time passes by and you guys proceed to spend the next few hours showing each other ‘epic’ strategies and tricks for different machines, as well as taking mental notes of the games that looked interesting to you, thinking about trying them again some other time.

You’re genuinely having fun. Like, tons.

However, the clock is already hitting two in the dead of the fucking night and you do actually have classes in the morning.

“Hey, dude?” you ask, slightly distracted by the co-op game you were playing for the past half hour.

“Yeah?” Shuichi replies, half-listening and struggling to keep up with you, not expecting to be bested at yet another one of his favorite games—or close to all of the games you guys have tried for that matter. You kinda remind him of—

“Sorry, but I gotta bounce after this round. Got class in the morning.” You squint, trying to catch the last few aliens that were escaping your aim.

“O-Oh.” His fingers freeze on the joystick and his character idly walks into a wall, getting swarmed before it dies. “C-Can I…”

“Hm?” you ask with an encouraging nod in his direction, clearing the round on your own and exiting the game.

“Can I—uh—can I have your number? O-Or discord tag? Or e-mail or… or anything?” The purple haired boy asks with way too many words, but that didn’t bother you.

“Sorry, I only use the telegraph,” you tease.

“H-Huh?”

“Err, nothing… I was joking. Here.” You throw him your ancient phone. “I’ll, uh, text you when I’m home.”

It seems to take him a second to process it, glancing at your device after which he bursts out laughing, if a little too loudly. One of your eyebrows raises in response.

“D-Do they—hahaha—do they even manufacture these anymore?” he asks between his fits of breathy laughter, making you pinch your brows together.

“Hey! It can call, text and it plays music,” you say, knowing Spotify does freeze like half the fucking time. You roll your eyes, though, his contagious nerdy laughter infecting you and making you giggle as well. “It’s really not that bad, okay?”

“Sure, sure. Here, take it back before it falls apart in my hands and you ask me to buy you a new one. Pretty sure it’d cost me a fortune, since you probably own the last of its kind,” he says, his remark making you snort and you snatch your artifact from him, putting it back in your pocket.

“Whatever you say, dude. Catch you later.” You smile fondly before turning to leave.

“W-Will you, uh… really text me back? I… It’s gonna sound super lame, I know, but I don’t make friends often and, uh… it was really fun to play with you.”

“Sure,” you lie, “I had hella fun too. See you around?” 

“For sure!”

You wave at him, finally going on your way home.

You feel gross, not only because you’re still dressed in your uniform, but also because of the tinge of sadness that’s now lingering in your heart for a second time this week.

─────────

Class is almost full as it usually is, and you take the seat in the back as you usually do.

It’s comp-sci again and you half-wonder if that weird guy’s gonna show up today or if he’s going to skip. The two of you share CS classes about twice a week, with you last seeing him on Monday. 

Monday where you blatantly ignored him and left him hanging like an asshole.

In your (totally unbiased) opinion, the jerk fucking deserved it, but if you thought about it really hard—if you properly squinted—you’d admit that your antagonistic nature did not help the few encounters you two had.

Too bad you generally don’t like to think too hard.

The bell rings, the professor enters the classroom and you realize you might not be seeing your creepy acquaintance today. A relief, honestly. You didn’t know how to deal with his weird mood-swings last time and you don’t know if you want to deal with them this time either.

But you’re never lucky, because you see a pale, slouched, lanky figure trudging amongst other students. You observe carefully and fortunately for you, he seems to aim for an open front row seat—the one that’s as far from you as possible. Your best guess right now is that he can’t stand sitting next to you again after the last interaction.

Good riddance, you think.

But you don’t fucking mean it for some reason.

And yet again, you could never be that fucking lucky, because one of the students he was going to sit next to gets startled by his mere presence, and then anxiously denies him the seat (possibly in favor of their own friend coming in late). He must’ve said something in return, because you see the student flinching and then he resigns to moving towards the back row, a deep scowl forming on his face before you look away from him.

The asshole wouldn’t sit anywhere next to you this time around, leaving a considerable gap of three whole open seats between the two of you—god forbid you infect him with something. 

Common sense, maybe. Not that you have any, but… it’s probably more than he does, right?

Him treating you like decomposing garbage and putting space in between, leaves you feeling something indescribable twist inside your gut. 

You roll your eyes. Why the fuck do you feel like you’ve done something wrong—like it’s your fault? Didn’t you bury all those useless feelings all the way down? Clearly not. 

Maybe it’s the guilt streak that you’ve been on since your class together on Monday, combined with ghosting that guy at the arcade, that prompts you to go ahead and do something really, really stupid.

“Hey,” you whisper, tapping your fingers against the surface of the neighboring desk to get his attention. Why are you doing this again? 

“Hey, dude.” You test his patience a little louder this time and he turns his head, glaring daggers at you.

“What the fuck do you want, tramp?” he spits at you in a low and cold grating voice while tapping away at his phone. “Buzz off, before I break that stupid little face of yours.”

Alright, he definitely closed himself off after last time, lock and fucking key.

Scoffing, you reply with a “Whatever” and turn back to your seat with a scowl.

You don’t notice him raising an angry brow when you start typing at your assignments.

Nor do you see the questions arising in his mind.

His carmine eyes observe you carefully for just a second longer, looking at you like you were some kind of anomaly—a glitch in the game, after which he ignores you completely for the rest of the class, the blatant attitude aggravating your already bad mood.

“For the next project, you’ll work in groups of four. I’ve uploaded the list of themes and added the corresponding names. My only request is for everyone to reach out and cooperate with each other, meaning team effort will be the key here,” Mr Reynolds speaks, gesturing to the entirety of the room. “Deadline is in two weeks from now and tardiness will not be tolerated. All groups will get enough time to present in front of the class.”

The teacher goes on to talk about some more details that will likely be in the briefing of your class, but you don’t bother to check any of it, packing your stuff into your bag and making a beeline for the exit as soon as the bell rings.

For some reason, you feel kind of upset—no, really fucking upset at the earlier interaction, and you don’t really understand why.

The universe, however, wouldn’t allow you to dwell on this feeling much longer.

[manonamora-if]

Retrospective 2024 (4)

Last one!

As teased in the infographic, My resolution this year stays unchanged from last year's:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

I want to continue completing and fixing older projects, so I can shelf it for good (like I did Goncharov Escapes! this year, and DOL-OS). But, since I added a bunch of title on my itch page, there are a few more to the pile compared to last year that needs fixing (or finishing) - at least DOL-OS is done :D The goal: Harcourt (MelS want to finish it, but it's still him dependent), The Roads not Taken (I dropped the ball on that one at the end of last year), An Eggcellent Preparation (samesies), and Exquisite Cadaver or P-Rix - Space Trucker.

I won't even try to promise I won't make new games (large or tiny), because last year made it obvious there is no stopping me. I planned last year to participate in a few comps... and ended up doing two dozens. So... At least, I won't participate in the big comps (IFComp/SpringThing) because the ideas I have for them need at least another year to make it happen... I do want to try to make it to one parser-focused comp again (either TALJ or ParserComp) and try out Moiki or DonjonFI. I'm only 7-9 games away to have 1 title/year alive...

Below the cut has more detailed expectations for some titles. Like last year, no real timeline on what will be done when - this year has shown me that life likes to throw stones at schedules... Announcements will also be whenever, because I make things on a whim :P I will try to have a better announcement schedule for updates however.

Oh! one more resolution: continue to do word crimes ~ obviously!

The trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

While I've been working on the final edits of Chapter 5, MelS promised to be hard at work on Chapter 6 this following semester, which is the final chapter. From mid-January onward, he should have a clearer schedule IRL to set himself some time to write.

We hope to be done with the edits and coding of Ch6 this year.

When Ch6 is cleared, we will do one final sweep at the earlier chapters to ensure the writing style is consistent, rebalance variables and puzzles, as well as making it compatible with as many screens as possible (especially for maps). Solutions for puzzles (mazes and such) will get a special log on itch too.

La Petite Mort

The game is "technically" complete already, but I spotted a few typos here and there that could be taken out, one theme is eh... really not as pretty as I had wanted it (the "PJ theme"), and I've been wondering if I could add a few more rooms or interactions (with the animals especially).

I'm aiming for a March-April update. Though it should have been done last November already...

The Roads not Taken

I've mentioned my plan for this project the past few months (before I got distracted with other projects), which is to fix the parser mechanic (to follow a bit more the conventions and fix the frictions of the game), include the missing content from the SpringThing version (Codex and Endings), and potentially have a hypertext version (links to click) for accessibility.

I would like to be done with this before summer at the latest - by March at the earliest.

Entre-d'oeufs coquilles - An Eggscellent Preparation

A bug or two needs fixing in this game (the AEP version) - how the box is used/eggs are handled -> for the ending - as well as a bunch of typos (a small re-write may be needed).

As AEP is the most recent version, with more content, I will need to translate the updated/fixed version back to French (EdOC).

I would also like to include more pixel art for each "room". I do not know yet I would manage that, but we will see!

I think there isn't much to fix that an update before the summer could be doable.

Exquisite Cadaver

That ball-n-chain project that's been dragged around for the past year, poor game... At least, I've given up on a French version.

The same amount of rounds is missing from the playable version (21), with no real progress made last year. All rounds are at least drafted in some fashion, though not all the endings are.

A sane planning for this would be to do an update every 3-4 rounds until the game is complete. I will try to achieve this.

If I could reach the half-way mark by the summer and complete the game by the end of the year, this would be great!

P-Rix - Space Trucker

This game can't stay in this current state! I have a rough draft of the mechanic and enough bits of writing to make a coherent update with some touch-up. I know how to end the game (the "good" ending), with even an option for further "storylines" after that first delivery is complete. I even have the "stops" on planets or ships all clear in my head (RNG babyyy).

I will probably focus on this project in the second half of 2024.

Crimson Rose & White Lily

With the hiatus getting closer to a two-year one... an update is long overdue. I may break an update in multiple ones:

fixing the main story code

adding Scene 5 (needs to be written properly)

adding Scene 2 variation

fixing the Codex

including Bonus content (may be a separate "game")

I would like to have the first point done in the first half of the year, and the second... well in the second half. If the Muse is in my corner it might happen sooner, but she hasn't been here all last year, so who knows at this point...

I miss writing Razac y'all...

SugarCube Templates

Even if I've done all the "coding" templates I had wanted to do for a while, I have a handful more visual templates in my drafts (different shapes!).

Having tried all "main" Twine formats, I've been itching at making templates for Harlowe and Chapbook. Either doing a Harlowe/Chapbook version of the template already done, or just making completely new one.

Expect some to be added to itch (when I get bored/frustrated with my projects).

Other projects

If there is time/energy left in me, I would like to take a crack at:

Finishing The Dinner, with all the remaining courses and the planned final choice. Also styling it in Harlowe properly.

Finishing the OG planned story for In the Blink of an Eye, which was supposed to last "a week" in the story (instead of 2 days) and have more consequences/endings.

Finishing The Rye in the Dark City, which is missing 2 acts: the interrogation of the different peeps and the "closing" the case. A bit of re-write in the first act might be needed.

Finishing Don't Press the Button (not really IF). I want to make it work in both keyboard and mouse... If I can manage it, then it's just a matter of moving the element around the page, changing colour, and randomise whether to click or not. JavaScript/jQuery is required however ;-;

Fixing The Thick Table Tavern: first the bar (group bottles, add new ones + new recipes), then the Arcade Mode (there's a bug I've been meaning to fix for one mode + add difficulty), then the Story Mode (essentially do a re-haul + add more storylets + the main client(s) of the run).

Remastering SPS Iron Hammer - a.k.a. re-writing it, adding the whole escape mechanic, re-coding the whole thing...

I don't think I would be able to do ALL of this - with the amount of time/effort some of these projects would required, it would probably be impossible by myself. And I should probably focus on CRWL instead if I have time/effort left 😂

Other... other

I'm going to continue organising small comps and jams this year, both with @seedcomp-if (which will run all year now - 8 months of Planting, 3 months of Sprouting, 1 month of voting), and @neointeractives (8-10 jams/year).

I will probably participate in a handful of the jams I've either organised, or small program-focused jams (like with ink/bitsy), but avoid the "big" ones this year (even if the SpringThing was fun!). There are also a handful of other jams I've had my eyes on, so we will see if I can manage... Expect more short silliness on this side.

A thing I will continue doing will be playing IF games still. I have 15 games left in the IFComp (with one being an absolute beast) and want to take a crack at old comp entries (IFComp, SpringThing, and the others), especially the French ones. Reviewing takes a while, but it's a good practice to think about the positives and negative of games - and take these lessons for my own projects. Expect more at @manonamora-if-reviews (or on the IFDB).

Aaaaannnnd that's it!

That's more than enough to keep me entertained for this year. ... which may potentially be the last one in a while where I will have any free time. I am certain of one thing for next year (2025): there will be a lot of change happening IRL, which will for sure mean less time to do any fun thing (not just making IF). Probably long periods of time where I will be completely offline too. This year might be the last where I have a consistent presence online. I really want to make the most of it!

[meanderforth]

Hey, folks! 

In the last update, I detailed the techniques used to port the levels from the old GameMaker version of Meander Forth to the Godot engine.

I had hoped to have a playable build of the game ready for patrons by the time this post rolled around, but it's not quite ready yet. There are still some finishing touches and known issues I need to work out. I can safely say it will be available soon, however!

In the meantime, here are some updates regarding the game:

Outskirts Progress:

First and foremost, I've made some more headway on the outskirts stage, populating it with NPC's and story events!

As the opening stage of the game, the Outskirts area serves as an introduction to the game's mechanics, world, story, and characters.

It opens with a scene of three friends (Isaak the human, Scotty the fox, and Garret the otter) getting reacquainted after some time apart.

As the stage progresses, Garret bumps into a variety of quirky characters, such as his sister Emerald and his brother Parlo, who seem elated that Garret is finally out-and-about.

If you've played the Teak's Tall Tale demo, you may recognize some familiar faces! Meander Forth picks up right where that one left off.

It seems Garret's friends are worried about something, however. It must be important, if they have their own cutscene areas!

Not everyone has some long-winded diatribe, of course. Some just spout what's on their mind. And that's okay.

Admittedly, this stage has a lot of dialog. In fact, it probably has the most out of any stage in the game! Despite the blocky aesthetic, my goal is to create a world that feels "alive." I want players to really get a sense of what this world means to Garret... and what it means for it to be stolen away from him.

Godot 4.3

Since the last update, I have upgraded the game's engine from Godot 4.2 to Godot 4.3.  The previous version had a lot of issues regarding pixel art positioning and scaling, causing art on the screen to shimmer and jitter. 4.3 fixes this issue, giving the game a smoother feel.

A by-product of this update is that the framerate can now be uncapped without introducing ugly visual artifacts. An option to choose your desired framerate will be added to the settings menu for those with faster monitors.

School Stuff

As of the writing of this post, the Fall 2024 semester of my college has begun! Admittedly, I'm taking this semester off from school. I have completed all-but-two of the classes in my program, and neither of them will be available until Spring.

Thankfully, I have been allowed to continue my front-desk job at the school's tutoring center, so I will be able to support myself with that, and even work on some STEM-related projects such as this one in the downtime.

Admittedly, development may slow down a bit as I get adjusted, but rest assured the pace will pick back up when I get used to the new schedule.

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you in the next update. Hopefully I'll have something playable ready by then. After that, it'll be time to create the second part of this level: the Forest area. (Note: These areas will have better names in the final game, haha!)

Note: This is a cross-post from my p*treon blog. The original can be found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/3-sept-2024-111383422

[divkazkdovikde]

diary entry, monday, 8th of july 2024

guess who came back from the deepest pits of hell to the world of living

i have no idea when was the last time i stopped to think about and reminiscent on my current daily life, new stuff, what was i up to and shit like that, everything is going so so fast and like 99% of time i have no idea what am i even doing. i’m tired, i’m struggling, i’m getting better and i keep getting up every day and that counts

the hell exams period was? my days pretty much consisted of school-work-sleep (if the derranged fucked up not-routine i was pulling off can be called that) on repeat.

- i started working in a coffee shop (real fancy shit- specialty coffee from the forest, boss is a little fucking arrogant bitch (she’s a joke fr) but colleagues are great tho) (it also made me a coffee snob- my greatest nightmare came true) so i’m living the ultimate college experience now

- when i was not at work i was deep down buried in school stuff, and i also went through this four weeks of school internship during the exams, since i refused to complete it in summer, which made me absolutely exhausted to death (had to wake up really fucking early for it) and the studying couldn’t go any slower.

- so i was sleep deprived, frustrated, annoyed and oversensitive for like two months straight (gay) the only people whose companny i could stomach without worrying about my social battery were my flatmate (we were absolutely in it and dying together, shout out to her for always knowing exactly what am i going through) and our friend from highschool (she’s the best, shout out to her for having all those study dates with me and motivating me to productivity, you’re a real one babe, and the girl walks for mental health after almost every session) (and shout out to star girl for even if so far, still always here (if you’re reading this, thank you, you are the best and i’m very grateful for you)

the end of the exams were rather fiasco-esque but i got through it, thank fucking god

anyway, to the fun stuff, during the semester, i had this little sidequest going on, which was doing pixel graphics for my friend’s game. mind you, i’ve never done pixel graphics before. but it was absolutely a fun thing to learn and do. i didn’t think i would enjoy it as much as i did

i also quite lived the social life, some events i enjoyed more than other, but it was lovely anyway. met some new people, saw some of my favourite people too, family time was there as well

culture wise it was not boring either, galleries, trips with friends, exploring the big city, etc etc, you name it

had my birthday somewhere in between too (broke the “i always cry on my birthday because something always fucks up and that’s why i hate them” curse)(got some of the best gifts ever too, like i’m actually so emotional, the best of them all? the new abnormal (my favourite album ever) vinyl - honestly fuck my flatmate for that, i will never top that gift)

i also kind of stole my mother’s old camera (she wasn’t using it anymore, shame on her, honestly) so i’m currently learning how to work with it

got new tattoos

i became an insane plant mom, i have so much of them now fr. two of my plants died, i really tried to save them tho, rip. and another one’s really sick now and i’m getting desperate, because i have no ideas on how to save her left. but the rest is good well and thriving

i haven’t been able to read much lately, if i finally could find the time for it, there was no energy left, so it was a bit weak on that front. but, i did read something, if i have some czech babes here - srpny, jakub stanjura (trust me, it will ruin you, it’s really good) and i started to rereading the trials of apollo (never finished it in the first time, so that’s what the goal now) and i absolutely stopped reading fanfictions (a tragedy, really, i miss it) and i haven’t played any game in weeks either (miss that too). i’m currently trying to catch up those things, since i have a bit more time sans the school

even though i haven’t got time for much of my hobbies lately, i did manage to develop a new one, it’s an obsession at this point tbh. formula one, guys. actually my brother follows it for quite some time now (we can be talking years probably) and i always was like “yeah, whatever.” but somehow, i don’t even know how, these fucking f1 reels kept showing on my instagram and i was like “wow that’s actually kind of funny and definitely cool” and then “let’s go watch dts, to see what the buzz is about” which i enjoyed at first but started to lowkey hate it, seems like a unnecessary soap opera to me, and so i decided to fuck it and just buy the subscription, so i (and my brother in extension, of-bloody-course) can watch the races and other stuff. and i absolutely live laugh love it

- fun fact: it actually helped me a lot to keep motivated. i had it on the background quite often during studying and the buzz, passion, enthusiasm and the fast shit made me buzzing too and kept me motivated, because it sparked my sport’s soul and you know how it is, once a competitor, always a competitor, “if they can drive those fucking fast cars and go through all that, i can study the fuck out of this shit” so yeah, that was and unexpected but rather great turn of events

(i would also like to apologise to everyone i ghosted and/or took ages replying to, here, my friends, my bachelor thesis leader… little miss girl was having a hard time to keep herself going guys, i’ll get better again, i promise, or i’ll certainly try to)

i’m also learning and trying to cook more, i never was really bad at it, but i also never cooked much, so i would like to improve my skills and experience. it always takes my mind off things and i find it quite therapeutic, so yeah

also my reading goal is waiting for me and i can’t wait to get back to the stack of unfinished/unread books again

i have my summer mostly planned out, going to visit some cool places too, can’t wait

i wish i could say i’m happy but life is still playing chess with me and i’ve always been terrible at chess no matter how many years i went to the chess club. but yeah well, you gotta keep going right? try to look out for yourself, keep fighting and stuff like that huh? i’ll be alright, we all will

summer’s here guys, let’s enjoy the shit out of it, i had enough of survival mode

+ current music obsessions:

- touch tank - quinnie

- so high school - t swift (dunno how that happened, smh, it’s so bad fr, but i’m vibing, let the girl vibe)

- gasoline - måneskin

- bon appétit - katy perry (yep)

- moth to a flame - swedish house mafia, the weeknd

- stargazing - myles smith

- birds of the feather - billie eilish

also my favourite playlists lately here: f1 vibes , summer vibes and sunset vibes

[twin-wolves-123]

sometimes, it doesn’t get better

my dad has always been an emotionally immature person who took out his personal issues, depression, and anger on everyone else around him, and as better as that’s gotten over the years, he’s still a self centered, unreasonable asshole who refuses to differentiate his own opinions from fact or listen to others, and today we had an argument that ended with him implying he would disown me

someone I know from college who was actually one of my first friends there gradually seemed to care less and less about hanging out with me, and as much benefit of the doubt as I gave it, eventually we had a conversation where he confessed he didn’t really see us becoming close friends at all, when he had been one of my only friends in school up until that point. it’s been over a year and a half and we haven’t had any actual conversations since besides passing “hey”s

almost my whole high school career i resented the idea of going into computer science because of how pressured into doing so I was by my family and the fact that I didn’t enjoy the bit of programming we’d been forced to learn in a high school program i did. flash forward to college and I’ve taken two semesters of classes preparing to go into the major, not really interested in anything else but not particularly caring about it either and getting rejected from even a summer tech program at my school that was seemingly made for people who couldn’t land internships while the majority of my friends got accepted, to either it or an internship elsewhere

but after that fight my mom and I called about it and she reaffirmed her support regardless of how shitty he is and that was probably for the better since I haven’t talked like that with my mom in a while

and not long after that conversation, when I was so frantic to find anyone willing to befriend me like it was orientation despite it being a semester into the year, i ran into someone at a boba event of a club I wasn’t even a part of who would become one of my best friends today after initially faking extroversion out of desperation, and ended up making a decent amount of other friends through her as well

and as garbage as I felt about all of that i still learned a lot of the basics from class, and over the course of that summer discovered I really enjoyed making pixel art and messing around with game making in unity , game development being something I’d been somewhat interested in toward the later end of high school but didn’t have the skills or motivation to pursue

i guess my point is that, a lot of the time “it” doesn’t and won’t get better no matter how much we want it to change because life just doesn’t work that way

But that should never take away from the fact that theres usually something else other than “it” out there that will BE better than just waiting around and hoping it gets better

I doubt this post contains anything meaningful that people don’t already know and it’s partially fueled by my frustration with the saying “it gets better” which obviously doesn’t mean exactly what I make it out to be here, this was mainly supposed to be cathartic—I lost any ounce of true love/respect I had for my dad years ago but there’s still a strange sadness in the finality that the fantasy of the family we could’ve been will always be just that—but who knows. If anyone happens to stumble across this and is entertained or cheered up or helped any way by what I put here then that’s good enough for me lol

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes! 

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much 

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

    March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

    April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

    April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

    April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

if you enjoyed this series, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[elianthvia]

7 Reasons Why I Quit

(only for a little bit)

It has, alas, been another few weeks since I posted. I have an excuse for my unpunctuality: I've been spinning non-stop like a top. The conclusion of the last Zoomester and the start of summer are to blame. I have seven partners in crime.

Culprit 1: Puppetry Workshop

Towards the end of the year, DTI (Design Thinking Initiative), in collaboration with the Theatre Shop, hosted an in-person puppetry workshop where a small number of people could participate per covid protocols. In-person events were few and far between this semester, so of course I rushed to sign up. The workshop ran for about 2 hours on three consecutive Mondays. We met in the theatre shop inside Mendenhall Center for Performing Arts.  

The first day we made shadow puppets (and mine was a bee); the second day we made hand puppets (mine was a ... cyclop ghost king?); the third day we made marionette or string puppets (I attempted to make a teru teru bōzu, but everyone thought it a ghost). I had a lot of fun trying different fabrics, re-learning how to use a bandsaw, and magically joining things together with the help of a hot glue gun. (Side note: Polymer chemistry is the magician behind the scene, and I will be learning more about the science of hot glue guns in the polymer class I am taking next semester!) The workshop was surprisingly not as popular as I anticipated, maybe because people were busy as the semester came to a close. The good news is that DTI will be running the workshop again in the fall so more people will get to participate.

(Is she a ghost or teru teru bōzu?)

Culprit 2: Spring Piano Recital

I did not expect to attend a live concert this semester, but I was invited to the spring piano recital as a "special guest." It is a habit I developed while working as a concert crew at Sage, to sit outside the Sweeney Concert Hall and listen to the rehearsals after I finished setting up the stage. That day I was going to do homework outside the concert hall while waiting for my performing friend to finish. The piano instructor spotted me and asked me if I wanted to join. Disbelieving in my good luck, I accepted the invite. About ten students were scattered in the almost empty concert that felt sad and lonesome, but soon music filled the air. I thoroughly enjoyed every performance. Lots of Chopin were played, but my favorite one is Rhapsody in Blue which just entered the public domain this year. All pieces are about or more than a century old, which is not a surprise, but refreshingly, there is a piece by a female composer, Amy Beach, whose granduncle co-founded Bates College. You can find the full program here.

Culprit 3: End of Classes

The end of classes was epitomized by professor-resembling pixels on our computer screens bidding us goodbye. Usually professors would plan something fun for the last day of classes, virtually as well. 

I remember last semester my Multivariable Calculus professor changed his virtual background to a wall of donuts, explaining that during the pre-pandemic times he used to bring a box of donuts for students on the last day. This semester in Mathematical Methods for Physicists and Engineers, we explored the applications of Fourier Transform by looking at the velocity of a star and detecting the number of planets around it. Our last Circuit Theory lab was in person, where we got to listen to a song/piece of our own choice through the low pass filter and the high pass filter pictured below. The professor handed out prizes (cool items she accumulated in conferences) to students to reward them for their participation in the pre-class trivia games. I received a mini glow moon. In addition, our circuits professor left out end-of-class fun packs with origami papers and stickers outside her office. Our last Organic Chemistry lab was also in-person, where each lab group presented their experiments and findings (through a projector rather than Zoom screen share!) My presentation group decided to dress up for this special occasion after a long year of virtual school. Lastly, for Organic Chemistry, we played organic chemistry jeopardy in our last lecture.

With all the professors wishing you a happy summer, you start daydreaming about the sunny beach and breezy wind. Oh wait, you still have final exams to take. All in three days!

Culprit 4: Final Examinations

This semester we had a three-day final exam study period (or reading period) when professors are not allowed to assign any homework or set deadlines. Right after the reading period is our final exams. Smith is known for its flexibility when it comes to exams thanks to its Honor Code system. Many exams are self-scheduled. Some are open-notes, and some are untimed. In a normal year, students go to Seelye Hall to print out and take the exams when they feel prepared. 

For the classes I am taking this semester, I had three hours to take my Math Methods final, a whole day to take the Circuits Theory final, and the entire finals period to take my Organic Chemistry I final. Besides the exams, I had several other writing assignments to turn in. I was very fatigued at the end of the semester, so even though I only had three exams, I struggled to muster up mental energy to study. To make things worse, I got my second Pfizer shot during the reading period and had a pretty bad reaction. As a result, I asked the class dean to give me an extension on an exam, which was generously granted, and I was gratefully less overwhelmed.

Culprit 5: SmithCycle

The finals are now over, but my vacation didn't start yet. I am staying on campus for a few extra weeks to work for SmithCycle. SmithCycle is a program that collects, sorts and redistributes gently used dorm items students donate in the move-out process at the end of each school year. It gives purpose to items of reusable value and creates a more sustainable campus. In the past week, we have collected hundreds of bags (no exaggerations!) of items. Besides clothes, books, school and dorm supplies, some of the unexpected items include coffee makers, brand new water filters, and a monitor. One of my coworkers commented that first-years shouldn't have to shop clothes hangers again while they were going through three boxes of donated hangers.

The winter clothes we collected are going to the International Students and Scholars Office. They have an event called Winter Clothes Closet every fall where international students "shop" for free to help them get accustomed to the New England weather. School supplies will be moved into the Common Goods Resources Center which CEEDS hopes to launch in Fall 2021 (very exciting!). I cannot plug SmithCycle enough. If you are an incoming first-year, visit the Common Goods Resources center before you head to Target! 

I have always been interested in sustainability and renewable energy and want to get more involved. When I saw the SmithCycle worker position posted on Workday, I immediately applied. Every SmithCycle worker's job varies. I am mainly responsible for washing and drying the linens and blankets. When waiting for the washer and dryer, I help with unloading the van that circulates between houses to pick up bags of donations. I also help with sorting. Pictured below is the inside of Scott Gym where all the items are currently stored.

Culprit 7: Summer Housing

As college transitions into summer, students who are staying on campus for some part of the summer had to move out of their spring housing assignment into their summer housing. I moved from Chapin, the house in central campus, to Capen, which is on the periphery of Smith. I know Chapin and Capen sound alike, but they are very different houses location-wise and personality-wise! To make up for its distance to the academic buildings, Capen House has its own garden, Capen Garden. The garden a gorgeous place many current Smithies are missing out on. There is a mini fountain, hedges, a garden temple, a plant arch, and a bizarre owl statue. Look at the last picture of the garden in this blog, and you will agree with me that the Paradise Pond is overrated.  

Built in 1825 and acquired by Smith in 1921, Capen House is named after Bessie Capen, the second woman to be admitted to MIT. She taught chemistry at Smith College. Fun fact: Bessie Capen was once the associate principal of the Mary A. Burnham School for Girls, now Stoneleigh-Burham School; I went there for horseback riding lessons during my first year at Smith. Small world, right?

Case Closed

Thanks for reading this long-ish explanation. I hope my tardiness in delivering this post may be justified by the causes above. To compensate, I will write about my other summer plans and updates in the next few weeks. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

[doakaptan]

finally, ive lost the plot  (and became the main character so here is an episode from the 19th season)

Before you start getting into this week’s blog, I must warn you that this is mostly me recounting our never-ending slow-burning two days of spring break alongside my longing for Stardew valley while I prepare for the Tableau Vivant project. 

So when I was informed about the spring break, I thought I’d be able to at least sleep in for once and play a few games I tossed aside to focus on the second semester. (Mind you, It has been exactly 120 days since I played Stardew Valley for the last time and, my mental health has been gradually deteriorating ever since). Even though I’ve been studying here for a while, I looked over the fact that Bilkent never sleeps and successfully suppressed the upcoming projects in my mind. 

I surpassed it to the point where I mindlessly traveled to my hometown and set up my monitor without a care to the outside world. I would probably not have cared if the house was burning down as long as I got to play Stardew Valley. I was peacefully tending my crops that were made out of 3 pixels at most when it dawned on me that I had yet to choose a painting for the tableau vivant project. I already had a few paintings in mind so it was not that much of a hassle to choose out of the ones I picked.

WelI, I was so sure that Rene Magritte’s Portrait of Stephy Langui wouldn’t get picked that I didn’t mentally prepare myself to create such set.

First of all, I am aware that we kinda had  21 days to prepare and shoot the footage but, hello this is Bilkent and I like making everything hard for myself so I had 2 midterms to attend, a few interviews aligned and a lot of hearts to steal. So yeah I did not work for 21 days straight (it would probably be better for my mental health if I did but I digress).

So yeah here I am in the middle of a breakdown because I realized that I have only a week left to prepare for a piece like this and I did not find a way to achieve the perspective or make the people or find a model. At that point I did not have anything but my phone and oh- ITS CAMERA IS BROKEN. I did what a mentally okay and ready person would do and cried for a whole day until it backfired and determination bloomed in the pits of my stomach. I was also playing Stardew Valley during my mental breakdown so I knew exactly how long I cried until I passed out.

Here’s my wedding in the game. I was in the middle of the introduction when I passed out so I kinda missed the entirety of it but at least I have a picture of my last sane moment. 

While I was unconscious I had this weird dream about the game’s carpenter (which is funnily enough the mother of the npc I married). She told me that I was good at making wooden furniture and if I were to focus on it for the project I would have a solid starting point. My father told me the same thing a few days prior but, he is not a hardworking carpenter nor my game husband’s mother so I had no reason to listen to him. 

(Also a little background information about me for contextual reasons: I am good at wood work because at one point, out of sheer frustration at the interior design and architecture department here (eskişehir) I started making couches and mini-sets out of wood.)

I woke up the next day knowing what I was going to do. 

I had exactly 6 days to make up for all the procrastinating I’ve done so the first thing I did in when I woke up was to go out and look for a rock. It had been non-stop raining for 2 days and when I went outside the rain became even worse than it was before. So I did the obvious thing and dove into the muddy field of a random construction. The rock is great though I’m glad I was Shrek enough to find it.

Also here is a picture of the dogs that watched me find my inner Shrek:

The rock was the hardest part to get it right in my opinion so I the rest came naturally. I messaged a friend who I thought would be perfect to hang from a ladder for a few times for 1.30 minutes. She happily agreed and even went as far as to study the make up and hair of the women.

So, I only had the set and the two figures left to create. I went to my father’s workplace and used their materials for the greater good. Like I mentioned I’m good with woodwork so once I got the size of my model’s head I was unstoppable. I finished the set-piece under 2 hours and went home to make the figures.

Everything came out nicely with 4 days remaining and I thought I was really done with everything.

 but the thing is.... I forgot the weather...... 

and the non-stop rain was not going to stop because I had a project I guess..

Anyways, I was mentally too deranged to care and ‘borrowed’ an Apple monitor from a university I cannot name in case of them finding me (I will return it when I’m done being sad over being poor thank you).

Here is the test shot:

It looked fine to me so I looked over the fact that my camera was broken and got to work with 2 days remaining and all the lectures fully back in action....

This project was more stressful then I imagined but I loved working on it regardless. I wonder if I would feel more at ease if I had an actual camera and not a malfunctioning broken phone camera but I digress. If I can kind of hopefully make it work on a broken camera I think I can keep up the will to work. 

The search for the paintings were a lot of fun too. I’m really interested in surrealism and overly weird settings so I was happy this was picked for the project. Hopefully I learned my lesson and in the future remember it well enough to not make a model loosely hang onto a ladder for dear life  and risk a lawsuit...

For future reference... crying and… stardew valley.......helps...... a lot…. 8/10….would recommend..... also.....would recommend........ crying enough to pass out and have a enlightening conversation with a 3 pixel carpenter.

[harrisonfletcherqut]

Week 7 - Dustblood Development, Assignment 2 Progress

Dustblood

So I’ve taken a bit of a step back from the output from last week. This week I’ve had to focus a lot more on other assignments for both this unit and others, so I’ve essentially given myself no time to do this. I’m not sure how much I will get done but it’s unlikely I will have a significant amount of progress by the next post-mortem. Though I haven’t done much I will share what I have so far on my perfectly legal copy of Photoshop. Once again I prefer to start by making basic visuals since spending time making basic shapes move around hurts my brain and eyes.

Here’s a little car. It has guns. That wasn’t cool enough though, so I also added a skull. Now it looks like something someone with a Fast and Furious tattoo and a Facebook profile picture with them holding up a fish would dream of when they fall asleep.

Here’s another car. This one is less cool, and also not finished. I want to put a mounted turret on the back and possibly change the colour.

Anyways, that’s kind of all I have so far. All my other assignments have been creeping up on me and I just haven’t dedicated as much time to this as I’d like to.

Speaking of assignments…

Assignment 2 Progress

For the second assessment piece of IGB220 we’re taking one of these short game concepts and making a ‘one-page’ pitch. This essentially just givse the basics of what the game is and how it works. There is also a second part to this, a ‘one-sheet’, that goes into detail about the game mechanics so that any designer could easily work off of it. We’ll then be using these to make a game with a group later on in the semester. I decided to go with the only game that I have actually finished so far, Supermarket Slugger.

So far, I have the ‘one sheet’ done. I decided to go all artistic with it and pretended like it was a page ripped out of some old magazine that was found in a gutter.

I decided to switch out any mention of Pringles with a fake company called Dingles which I think was the right decision since it just sounds absolutely hilarious. The guy “battering up” on the right side was a pain to draw since I’m new at pixel art and this was far larger than any 16x16 or 32x32 sprite and required a lot more detail. The in game images on the left are also somewhat fake since I just composed scenes that looked like gameplay in Photoshop and used those (there is no score system in the game but it’s shown in the image). I enjoyed making this since it had a lot of room for me to have fun with it and do something whacky.

I do like using Photoshop quite a bit and I’m glad that the Diploma that I learnt it in isn’t going to waste. The image uses a few different blending techniques to get that ‘old’ feel such as the grunge paper texture and film grain blended over the top of the layers. I also purposely faded out the image a bit so it looked like it’s been sitting in the sun a little too long. The colour palette was also purposefully chosen to feel like something you’d see on a soda can from the 90s.

The more game design focused “one-page” is going to keep this aesthetic despite being far more detailed.

[framing-visualculture]

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Garden by Meiting Song

Hello everyone, welcome to Framing Visual Culture. I am Yi Jing Fly. Today’s guest is Meiting Song, a graphic design and motion graphics artist based in New York and Beijing. Her works exude the fun and exciting energy of early 2000s Asian pop culture and embraces girlishness in their character designs and color palettes. She is currently finishing her final semester at School of Visual Arts (SVA) in NYC.

Meiting talks about how she developed a simple aesthetic for her digital designs through the process of silkscreen printing, finding the relationship between colors blocks. She also shares her influences looking back on the nostalgia of 90s and y2k aesthetic shared between her Asian friends, where the common language of communication is English but the visual language of shared pop cultural knowledge transcends words. Meiting ponders why no one aspires to design the branding of feminine hygiene products, and hopes to one day work on such a project herself, where she gets to design a fun and lovable brand image for such a ubiquitous and important product.

I saw that one of your illustration has been translated to a t-shirt design on Animal Crossing?

Haha, yes. In the beginning I tried to make a pixel art design in Adobe Illustrator, but there is some difficulty as the squared corners become rounded in the game drawing tool. It’s hard to come up with original designs as I have to do a lot of drafts, so what I do more now is to turn clothes already available in stores or others’ designs into digital versions in the game. There are also many accounts (like Nook Street Market) dedicated to making designer fashion and luxury items into Animal Crossing outfits. It also feels great when I can wear a luxury brand I really really like without spending any real money!

What is the situation like for young artists and art students now in NYC with Covid-19? Do you feel less affected since most of your works are digital?

For students in the digital art department it’s pretty much the same, we are used to working remotely on our laptops. But I’m taking a risograph course this semester and I can’t access the studios to work on my prints.

The grad show is also affected, as we usually have a huge event at SVA where we get to present our works to industry experts and network with them. I would say our career prospects are definitely jeopardized.

I especially love the animation series and gifs you’ve been working on lately. They remind me of Chinese paper-cut animation enlivened with simple Internet aesthetic. Can you tell us more about how you developed this aesthetic over time?

When I first started out doing graphic design in college I was making a lot of minimal and clichéd designs. We were all inspired by Apple’s aesthetic, but the minimal things I made in the beginning were more unfinished, and I realized I can’t keep doing that.

For the whole of last year I took silkscreen printing classes, and that was where I really challenged myself to think about the relationship between color blocks and each layer I’m making; eventually I learnt the skill of simplifying a very complicated thing. A lot of people like to make complex prints with silkscreen, but that’s not meaningful for me personally. At the time I also looked at a lot of art involving color blocks, and Taiwanese graphic designer Wang Zhihong’s works especially inspired me.

There are strong elements of 90s and Y2K Asian pop-culture in your works, are they from your own nostalgic references?

When I was little I didn’t pay particular attention to the pop-culture I was consuming. It was actually after growing up and meeting many Asian people from other parts of Asia that I noticed these things more. In fact, my inspiration comes more from other people’s sense of nostalgia. For me I watched a lot of Card Captor Sakura, Crayon Shin-Chan, Doraemon, and Hannah Montana. Hannah Montana was actually my fashion icon as a kid. Now I am searching for the songs that were super popular in my childhood, like Jay Chou’s songs, and trying to recall the streets and scenes where I heard them. It brings me a lot of joy doing that.

Another interesting thing I found is that, with my Asian friends, even though we communicate in English, we actually know the celebrity or show we’re talking about, we just don’t know the name in the other language. Communicating this shared cultural experience in English and reaching that moment of connection beyond language is really great!

Fashion and art are very interrelated. Oftentimes we find artists expressing themselves in both their art and fashion, and the aesthetics of both are usually aligned. What kind of clothes are you into right now, and how do they reflect or inspire your creative process?

Right now I’m really into the clothes by designer Rui Zhou (a recent Parsons MFA graduate). I especially like the sinuous lines in her garments, the flow of the curves, as I like round edges. The pearl/ bead element that holds the delicate knitwear together is my favorite part, it almost looks like an exclamation mark! I probably wouldn’t wear the whole look directly over my body, but it’d nice to just wear a piece of the ensemble as an accessory. There are also a lot of singers and celebrities in America that are wearing her clothes in their MVs or photoshoots. I find it interesting that what is indie or non-mainstream is the mainstream in New York.

Ruizhou SS19

I do think that she is one of the designers creating entirely original designs and pushing the boundaries of fashion. You recently did a collab with clothing brand Unif and photographer Monimogi, can you tell us the concept behind that collab?

It began with Moni following me on Instagram, and she liked the Sunrise Mart zine that I made and wanted to collab on something similar for Unif. Sunrise Mart had more of a Shōwa era advertorial aesthetic, with the nostalgic design elements stemming from that time, but for the Unif zine I wanted to make something with a Y2K aesthetic.

A page from Sunrise Mart

A page from Unif zine

I wanted to make something very “Tai” (corny Taiwanese subcultural style), hence the blings and saturated colors, and the use of Traditional Chinese chracters. They are quite characteristic of early 2000s teenage girls magazines as well. In those magazines you will often find horoscope readings or personality quizzes, and I incorporated that into the Unif zine, by making a quiz for “finding your perfect shoes.” I previously made a quiz for finding out what type of drink you are in Sunrise Mart and my friends told me it was pretty accurate lol.  

I also made a series of stickers to go with the zine, adding many elements that I have designed on my own. I also slid in a picture of a glass dildo with a heart shape on the top, and I thought no one would find out since its quite inconspicuous, but Unif side found out immediately and exposed me. But they kept it anyway because they thought it was funny. They’re pretty chill about things.

It took quite a while to make this, from the photoshoot in February to layout design of the zine in March. The Covid-19 situation was worsening at this time, and I had to focus my mind on making this really cute and fun zine when in reality I was being super anxious.

[vivivinya]

It’s the end of the decade, and what a ride it’s been this year alone! I’ve made a lot of artistic progress this year! Finally getting a tablet has really paid off, hehe... Here’s last years’ review!

If you’d like to hear my thoughts for each month, you can read more below!

January

I had just gotten a little tablet for Christmas a month earlier, and so at this point I was trying my best to get a feel for the new tool! It’s here that I definitely laid down the base of what I wanted my art to be - a lot more freeform and doodley than my art in the past years! I think it fits my art mood a lot more in retrospect. This drawing was when I did a little game with my friend Dalblauw where both of us drew Plumber Peach, based on a SupperMarioBroth post we found!

February

Around this time, I was having a major kick with FanCom. The new Discord was in its prime, and ComProject had been resuming with relative success! Boy what I’d do to get the community and project thriving again... Anyways, I was still getting a feel for my tablet, so I practiced a lot on FanCom designs, like redrawing my very first FanPro, 2003!

March

Chilla Month!! At the time, I thought I would be going hard on developing this game, which hasn’t turned out exactly right... however, I still have plans for these characters (when I don’t have to worry about programming for VR)! I mildly redesigned Chilla, Edith, and Merida, and also came up with two new characters! Eugine, the timid sheepish boy, and Jack, the hat person dad who’s trying his best!

April

This one has a bit of a sad story... The musical artist Wowaka was a heavy influence on my younger self, and his music still has a profound influence on me to this day. He passed away that month, and I was so struck that I felt the need to make a tribute of some kind. This was an animated image based on Rolling Girl.

May

The end of the semester of college is always one of the busiest and most stressful times, so not too much came out of me then. Plus I had started to get burned out from how few people were submitting for ComProject... But I gave it my best shot, and some of my best designs still came from this month! I also drew one of my best works at the time - Nyaga striking a little pose! This is notable for being the first time I tried actively shading since getting my tablet!

June

This is when I finally understood what I wanted to do with my art. I wanted to do a little pop-y sort of art with FanPro 0049, and what I ended up doing basically defined my art style from then on. Dynamic posing, backgrounds with popping colors and gradients, stronger shading, and notably the silhouette border. It’s an emphasis on fun looks!

July

Artfight time! I took this time as a means of experimenting even more with what I started last month, and I think this is when I fully grasped the sort of poses I wanted to do. One of my absolute favorites from this time was my drawing of Dalblauw’s character Naomi!

August

Once again ending on Artfight, and another character from Dalblauw again - Sam. However, this particular piece is important to me because it’s the first time I drew a background with any level of complexity, and properly did a pixel animation involving wind. I did a lot of research and planning, and learned a lot as an animator from this!

September

One of my favorite things I did was a little series on FanCom monster girls! It was four different works with the same premise: a halfbody of a design with the crop being stylistically approached based on their unique attributes. It was a lot of fun, and I’m definitely thinking of doing something like it again!

October

The month that changed my life the most, easily. Rivals of Aether revealed Workshop support, and after some thinking, I decided it was time for me to create something I could finally play! I started off small - four buddies based on FanCom designs. Then, I created my first character, Shy Guy! He was a blast to work on, and I learned a lot about animating and coding in the process! People say he’s fun too, which is a great plus!

November

Continuing with the Workshop, I had released two more buddies based on Super Mario Bros. 2, and finally had to challenge myself to create an original stage. What I ended up with was Subcon, a unique stage layout with (mostly) original sprites! It was the first time I’ve done a background of this complexity, and it was surprisingly fun!

December

And finally, this month, I started missing regular art. Spriting and coding and animating is fun, but it’s nice to take a break and put some variety in the mix, so I drew Nyaga again! I think this piece is important because you can directly see how my art changed from half a year earlier! More popping colors, more distinct style, more dynamic poses, I realized that I really had improved!

I think that’s the important takeaway from not just this year, but this decade as a whole. I’ve changed a lot over time, and I have a lot to look forward to! See ya next year with more art and gaming content, because you know I’m not stopping now!

[purplesurveys]

614

Happy Christmas eve on y’alls side of the world, and Merry Christmas from mine!!! If you celebrate Christmas!!! If not, happy Tuesday!!!

Do you have any stickers on your car? I have a sticker on the windshield that I had to get so I can get into my village, so it’s like a membership sticker of sorts and also a sticker for security purposes. On my rear windshield I used to have a UP sticker for...pride purposes, for lack of a better term HAHAHA but it since faded out and so I had it taken out, but I’m planning to get a new one by next year. Do you own a jean jacket? Yes. It originally belonged to my mom and it was a gift from my dad back in the 1990s when they were still dating. You can have a milkshake right now. What flavor do you choose? Peanut butter and chocolate. Have you ever given someone flowers? Yes, I have. People say that texting has ruined our written language. Agree or disagree? I think ‘ruined’ is a little harsh. The very point of texting was to serve as a convenient alternative to talking personally or on the phone, so it’ll always surprise me that there are some who don’t take too kindly to texting acronyms. Also, it looks like for the most part people know when and where to use their slang, so it’s not like abbreviations like ROTFL and LMK have taken over the every aspect of the world lmao. So save for the people who make it their life’s mission to give everyone a migraine with the amount of slang that they use, I wouldn’t apply the word ‘ruined’ for texting.

Are there any lamps on in the room that you're currently in? No but my mom has actually been looking for lamps to put in the living room.   How often do you get on Facebook? I have to everyday because it’s where work is done – contrary to y’all, Facebook is still ridiculously popular in the Philippines and is the go-to for a lot of stuff like schoolwork and buy-and-sell. But since I’m on holiday break, I’ve deactivated my account since December 20th or something. Everyone’s family, vacation, and/or Christmas posts make me sick to my stomach and it’s stuff I’d rather not see while I’m at my lowest during the holidays. What day of the week is usually your busiest day? Depends on my schedule and how many classes and meetings I have that day. Last semester, my busiest day was Wednesday – I had five classes that started from 7 AM and ended at 4 PM. What age do you wish you could stay forever? 16 was a great age to be in just because luck was on my side that year and everything good and fun happened to me. I had great friends, got into my first relationship, started to build up my image in school, and my mom started letting me go out more so I was experiencing more too. Do you have any concerts coming up? No, not for a while. Have you ever rode in a Corvette? I have not. Do you enjoy the sound of thunderstorms? I love it. When was the last time that you packed your suitcase? April 2016, if I remember correctly. I typically use just a big backpack when travelling, but that time I was headed to a cruise and visiting three countries so I really needed a luggage. Do you own an iHome? Nope. Is there a place that you will never return back to? I can think of a couple of places, yeah. Do you listen to Blink 182? No, I was never a fan. I’d hear them from time to time though because my sister used to be obsessed with them and still has their music on her playlists. When was the last time that you created a PowerPoint? About a month ago. Do you like group work? If my groupmates are cooperative then yes. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? Yeah, but I have them placed on my laptop case because I don’t want my laptop itself to be populated with stickers. I have a: 

Pixelated heart with the colors of the asexual flag

A sticker supporting Lumad schools

Some cute space-themed sticker from my orgmate Kiana’s other org

Two stickers referencing UP

Two stickers referencing Friends (a small Central Perk one and the purple door with the gold frame)

A sticker of a drawing of Hayley Williams my sister made for me two Christmases ago

Three small stickers of various Filipino street food.

How is the weather at your place right now? It started out cloudy because there is a thunderstorm brewing in the country at the moment, but since it isn’t affecting our area directly, the cloudiness is gone and it’s all sunny now.

Have you ever stolen one of those pink plastic flamingos? I have not.

Is music or the TV on while you complete this survey? My siblings are playing with our new Nintendo Switch on the TV :D

What song or TV show? They’re playing some Mario game.

Does your grass need cut currently? No, it was recently cut.

Do you listen to Nirvana? Not really, no.

What color are the doors in your house? It ranges from light to dark brown.

What brand of shoes do you wear? I’m barefoot right now but I own several brands.

Have your friends ever not wanted you to be with someone? LOL yes, they weren’t really on board with Mike.

What thumb do you use to hit the space bar with? Index or thumb, for the most part.

Do you own a red dress? I have a maroon dress.

[languagequest]

New Year, New Me, Bitch - 2020

A slightly more mature look on what I tried to do last year, albeit still with the silly title, with a lot more motivation to do it and with more of a know how, rather than wandering in blind when I came up with it at 3am on New Year’s Day. All under the cut, but will be regularly posted about on the blog

I need to change….

The Amount I Study

I’ve learnt from the first semester at university that I don’t really study enough for the level of course that I’m doing, so I really need to up the game next semester and those following. The recommendation is that, for every hour you’re in a class, you study double. I’ve endeavoured to do this; setting up a spreadsheet to allow me to track how much I’ve studied and if I’ve met this goal. I will also be making use of a to-do list that will track what I need to do in terms of assignments and homework, as well as when I need to repeat something that I’ve studied for recall purposes.

Habits: Meeting Study Target

The Amount I Weigh

Not much happened about my weight and I still don’t like it. I lost some for a while and then have put it back on, I really want to drop back down to the 8/10 that I was from the 14 that I currently am.

Habits: N/A

Looking after myself: Hygiene

My personal hygiene has suffered since coming to Uni, though I really expected it to the opposite that hasn’t happened. It’s gotten worse and worse and I really want to up it. It’s contributing to making me insecure and feeling like I’m undeserving even though I know otherwise. It’s making me feel alienated.

Habits: Showering, Brushing Teeth, Washing clothes

Looking After myself: Mental Health

University absolutely murdered the good mental health I had and it’s not been great these last three months – along with generally not feeling good about myself I’ve been getting headaches due to stress and am finding it more and more difficult to be social. Along with this I am more often snappy and unpleasant, even with people I shouldn’t be. This needs to change.

Habits: Meditation, Feelings journal, Pixels

Looking after myself: Physical Health

My physical health has taken less of a hit and if anything, I’m more active than I was living at home. However, the walk home is still a struggle and I know how unfit I am, especially as I’ve become less active due to exams. Thus, I want to become active again. A friend and I have made Wednesday our gym day and I also plan to start running on the side as well. I also need to go to a doctor for a full check up to see if there’s anything underlying wrong with me.

Habits: Running

Looking after myself: Sleep

My sleep has really suffered since coming to Uni and not even for any “good” reason such as studying, it’s really just lying in bed doing things that keep me awake. So, I’d like to turn my bed into a “sleep only” zone and gradually build the hours back up until I’m sleeping at least seven and a half hours a night.

Habits: Building Sleep

The Amount I spend

This has been a real issue when it comes to Uni, as the money I receive per month is much less than my rent and despite my efforts, finding a job has been really, really difficult so I’m a little screwed for cash at the moment. So, I will be keeping detailed track of how much I spend and what I spend it on. However, I need to remember I can still go have fun.

Habits: Daily Money Track

I want to …

Learning a new language

At my uni, there are several language courses that you can take and I need a new elective in 2nd year (as I can’t continue Latin if I’m going to continue with Computing and French) and I’d like to take another language. The ones I’m most interested in are Czech, Italian and German however as these could clash with my other subjects (the only one that’s guaranteed not to is Italian) I’ll be looking at the basics in all three until September, when I’ll specialise. There are also £30 ten week courses in a variety of languages offered by a society that I plan to do, however this may not be related to these three and we’ll have to look into my financial constraints when it comes to it.

Habit: Czech Practice, German Practice, Italian Practice

Writing

Writing has been a passion of mine for a long time and is a building block of how I live my life, my head is constantly filled with ideas. This year I’d really like to carry on working on my nano project that went very sadly unfinished due to Uni as well as continuing with a long running idea.

Habits: Crashing 200 Words, Araware 200 Words

Be More Social

I’ve struggled with being social a lot this semester with everyone, particularly outside of my flat. I don’t do what a lot of normal students do – going out, joining societies things like that. So I plan to firstly, join a society and secondly, go out more. Again, my friend and I have designated our night out as Thursday and while we need to keep an eye on money, we can change days so we’re going to places when it’s free and drinks are cheaper.

It would be nice to…

Go somewhere completely new, on my current budget that looks quite unlikely but it isn’t 100% undoable and if I’m lucky and get a job like I want to, then I might be in for some luck. In terms of cost, I’d like to go somewhere in Europe, and there is currently a scheme run by my University that takes first years to Europe over the summer with a deadline for the app being the 17th January. Hopefully I get on, if not, a simple trip somewhere in Scotland would absolutely do the trick. Additionally, it would be nice to meet someone. A lot of my friends are in relationships and I’ve never gone by a winch in a club, so it’d be nice to meet someone to build a real bond with and actually put myself out there without the aid of alcohol.

[mx-metronome]

Say, remember when I posted Thorton and I said I also planned on including a short essay about my art and true satisfaction? Well I have a few hours to kill before bed, so here is that essay. (Read More doesn’t work on mobile, I am so sorry)

I’ll start with establishing that everyone has that art. That one medium that really makes them happy, that sincerely drives them to improve if for no other reason than to learn and delve deep into their craft. Music, painting, knitting, it doesn’t matter.

Some pursue an art for the sake of wanting to impress others, then get frustrated when it doesn’t come easy. For them, practice is painful, and no enjoyment comes of it. It feels like a chore to them. But once they find that art, they stop caring about recognition, and they stop attaching their self worth to how skilled they are in that art.

My art is cross stitch. It has been for nearly a decade. Through all my years of high school, I desperately wanted to be good at something so that other people would like me. I wanted to define myself as an individual for everyone to see. Then one fateful day in April 2010, I picked up cross stitch, but not for any of the reasons above: I started because I felt it was something that I would truly enjoy. I always fancied pixel art, and I wanted to do something with my hands instead of a computer screen, so it felt natural to pick it up.

Right away, my life improved. I forgot about most of my social insecurities, and my self esteem began to climb. I started off small, with little pixel arts like Pokémon and Mario characters. The projects got bigger over time, but not big enough that I felt overwhelmed. I had a small part time job my senior year, and it paid well; I took all that money I made and immediately blew it on more supplies. Slowly, my collection of fabric, floss, and needles grew. My patterns started to as well, as I was itching to extend my skill as far as I could imagine. For the first six years, everything was fantastic.

Somewhere down the line, things changed. As I graduated college and my mental state worsened, I took steps backward back into my high school years when I was so concerned about what others thought of me. My projects got so absurdly large that it took so much energy to finish them, but I worked so hard to impress people.

At first, it worked: Barista Klug (2017) is a perfect example of this. Going into this doozy of a project, my heart was in the right place for the first three months, but as winter turned to late spring, my depression symptoms became severe. There were a handful of days where I couldn’t even move from my bed, the first days of their kind. My passion was dying, and it was frustrating to me. Cross stitch slowly ceased to be fun.

I saw him to his completion, but I was coping with a lot of stress at the time, so he didn’t feel as satisfying to finish as I had imagined. After I posted him on tumblr, and he didn’t get the notes on here that I felt reflected my efforts, things only got worse. I continued to start new, overambitious projects in an attempt to get people to notice me; I felt like a little fame and recognition would help me feel not so alone. But of the four or five massive projects I have started since, none of them have even come close to getting done.

Over the next year, the stitching just...stopped. I started a few more projects, sincerely believing a few times that my stitch itch had come back, but it never lasted long enough. I wasn’t doing anything with my hands, nothing was keeping my mind at bay. One particular day in 2017 stands out to me as the worst depression day ever, but the entirety of 2018 was my worst depression year. I was artistically stagnant, and although I knew cross stitching could be my saving grace, I never had the motivation to do it.

I finished a single cross stitch for the whole of 2018: a small, quick one of Ralsei from Deltarune, in a desperate attempt for stitching to fix my broken soul. Even though he wasn’t nearly as overwhelming a project, I stitched him for the wrong reasons: he was easy notes. It was another difficult time in my life, and I needed the attention.

This year, 2019, I feel is when I started to improve. I took a semester off of school to mentally heal, and in this momentary ceasefire, I tried to pick up cross stitch again through another overambitious project, Agent 9 the monkey. Upon completion, he will stand as my cross stitch project with the second most number of stitches, so he’s no picnic! Like Barista Klug, things were smooth for the first 3 or 4 months, but he’s since gone under hiatus, just like the rest, and I haven’t picked him up since.

So where did I go wrong? I asked myself for years. Why doesn’t this make me happy anymore? Why was I so satisfied with my work in my youth, but now I hate the mere thought of it? Saying it all aloud now, I’m certain the answer is crystal clear to all of you. But I wanted to pinpoint an answer in hopes of pursuing my craft so relentlessly and with wild abandon like I did a decade ago. I wanted a signal in this darkness...

After almost four years of complete darkness and confusion, at the end of June 2019, I received my signal. Still coping with my depression, I heard a new Pokémon game was coming out for mobile, and one of my fav (and super obscure) characters of all time would be in the core game. The clouds started to lift as my heart attached itself to an old lost fandom, granting me an urge, one that can only be granted by pure, distilled hype.

Enter Factory Head Thorton.

I knew I HAD to cross stitch him, to encapsulate the spirit that I hadn’t felt in so long. But this time, I did things differently: Why make a giant pattern with all the intricate details when this guy has sprites from the DS era, sprites that are easily transposable into a cross stitch pattern? I knew his sprite was small enough that I could finish him before school was back in session, but I’d have to work fast.

While I was working on the spritework for the pattern one July night, I had to pause and cry about it. To this day I am uncertain what triggered it, but working on this pattern filled me with such a raw happiness, the likes of which I’d never felt before. I was feeling true contentment for the first time in over half a decade, and I couldn’t contain my relief. As I began the stitching itself, that contentment carried over into my handiwork. I wasn’t stitching him because it would be a quick grab for notes (he’s obscure enough of a character as it is); I was making this stitching for myself, just a little something tangible that I made with my two hands. (If I ever came off as though notes on him were important to me, it was less for fame and more for shooting a flare into a dormant corner of a fandom and hoping I could make some new connections.)

Yeah, I felt satisfaction completing most of my other projects, but Thorton hit differently: Yeah, finishing him felt good, but working on him from start to finish felt even better, something I didn’t feel with Barista Klug or Ralsei. It was a sensation that sent me all the way back to high school, when I felt genuine passion and excitement in every stitch I made. This project was a meditation, almost a time capsule, even though I had only made the pattern a month prior.

From 2016 and on, none of my projects sparked joy. Thorton sparked joy, from beginning to end. So where did I lose my way? Well, I narrowed it down to two basic characteristics.

I think it was the spritework, what I suppose could be considered my traditional style when I first started in 2010. I moved away from sprites in 2015 or so, and it was about then that my art career started downhill. But going back to that style felt so perfect and ethereal, like it’s what I was always meant to do. I was very passionate about Barista Klug, but he wasn’t done in my old-timey sprite style.

Another contributing factor is likely whether or not I’m passionate about the subject and, by extension, whether I’m making the piece for attention over personal enjoyment. Am I considering how much I love that which I am stitching, or am I thinking about how much more people will love me once I’m done? Ralsei was indeed a sprite, but I made him for quick notes, seeing as I started and finished him while Deltarune was still at its peak popularity.

For the first time in nearly a decade, I stitched something that met both criteria, and it felt so powerful. I’m definitely taking this analysis to heart, and I aspire to pursue more projects like Thorton in the foreseeable future.

.........I say as I have already gathered $100 of materials for another HUGE latch hook project... Shame I figured this out a month too late, I suppose.