#simple as hell but sometimes a guy just wants to draw the art equivalent of a chart of two characters changing

[vamp-bites]

Smashed together like 4 different trans trigun week prompts (changes / hair / clothes / Elendira) in this doodle of Legato and Elendira, just started thinking about how Elendira’s hair got longer over the years while Legato’s got shorter and wanted to doodle it

[elisabeth515]

(Some) Greek Gods as Historical Figures

So some days ago I secretly logged back into Mythology and Cultures amino and I stumbled across post of casting historical figures as the gods from Greek mythology. Of course, I hated it, so I made my version of this.

Note: Of course, this is going to have quite a lot of Napoleonic figures, since I am more familiar of this period, but please do reblog this post (or tag me on another post) with the hashtag “#mythical figures as historical people” and add some more of your historical figure Greek God fancasts!

Note 2: this post is for entertaining purpose, and just me introducing some guys to y’all and I am not a historian myself and hopefully you all would still like my takes😅

1. Zeus - Louis XIV of France

First and foremost, I shall introduce the king of gods featured in Greco-Roman myths. You may ask, why don’t I cast Henry VIII of England? Well, my reason is very simple: Henry is far from accurate to Zeus in actual myths.

To be honest, Zeus has a more “absolute power” energy in it, and Louis XIV totally has rocked it (like that iconic line “l’état, c’est moi (I am the state)”). Well, Henry also has that kind of energy but everyone only remembers his six wives and the uncountable number of bloodshed (not to mention Catherine of Aragon is a much better fighter than him—got this from Horrible Histories OwO)... Anyways, Louis XVI is basically a Zeus.

2. Hera - Catherine of Aragon

This brings to Catherine of Aragon herself. She’s a total Q U E E N and if you have watched “Six” the musical you already got what I mean (like, being the wife who married to Henry the longest). There’s also the early warlike aspect in Hera (featured in Homer’s works) that Catherine has it as well (at least you know that she’s getting more victories than Henry if you have watched Horrible Histories season 6, in the episode with Rowan Atkinson playing Henry VIII (which is sad because I want Ben Willbond to play him—he iconic to the HH fandom)), making her a great casting of Hera.

Hera, in my opinion, is a very strong woman who has to take Zeus’s shit and I could totally understand why she took revenge on the girls that Zeus has slept with—but anyways, hopefully you guys would like it :3

3. Aphrodite - Pauline Bonaparte

This is half-self-explanatory, really—just look at that statue she posed as Venus, the Roman equivalent of Aphrodite.

Pauline was famed for her beauty in her time, also a big chunk of scandals from her affairs (which bugs her big brother Napoleon, a lot). Nevertheless, despite her big spending habits and a great sexual appetite, she always helped Napoleon in some surprising ways (like she sold her house in Paris to the Duke of Wellington to get the funds for Napoleon).

Just like Aphrodite herself, Pauline harnessed her beauty very well. Thus, I rest my case.

4. Apollo - Joachim Murat or Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria

(Warning: long content ahead)

Firstly, let me briefly introduce them because you guys might not know them much.

Joachim Murat was a marshal of France, also one of Napoleon’s brother-in-law, grand duke of Berg and Cleves from 1806 to 1808 and the King of Naples from 1808 to 1815. After the wars, he attempted to escape yet was caught and executed in 1815 in Pizzo, Italy (if you have read of Alexandre Dumas’s “Famous Crimes” you might know him—by the way no one has cut his head off and sent it to that big nose King Ferdinand).

For those who have watched “Elisabeth” or the “Sissi” movies, you might know Franz Joseph I of Austria already but you might not know much about himself besides being the husband of the (in)famous Empress Sisi (ie. Empress Elisabeth of Austria). He was the Emperor of the Austria from 1848 to his death in 1916—one of the longest reigning European monarchs in history. During his reign, the empire had been through a lot of change, most notably, the creation of Austria-Hungary. Nevertheless, he was also the Emperor who started World War I and he died of old age in the midst of the Great War.

For Apollo, I’m not casting musicians because this is quite overdone. I rather want to shed a light to the other arts that he represented in Greco-Roman mythology. This makes me want to draw a parallel to Joachim Murat as he was also a great sucker of classical literature. Plus, he also was known to be a flamboyant dresser (his nickname was “the Dandy King” by the way), also the designer of the uniforms of the Neapolitan army (with an excessive amount of amaranth, perhaps his favourite colour). Really, everyone just sees him as a great flamboyant himbo but in reality, he’s iconically badass in the battlefield as the First Horseman of Europe. Well, also he’s known for being extremely good with women even though his wife Caroline was fierce as hell. So, in my opinion, he fits the image of Apollo that we know.

However, you guys might feel surprised why I picked Franz Joseph for Apollo. Well, he really... was a rather mediocre ruler in my opinion, and perhaps our most memorable image of him was the senile emperor who signed the declaration of war to Serbia. Nevertheless, he was a well-liked man among his subjects, at least to some old citizens of Austria-Hungary telling future generations. Besides, culture flourished in Vienna under his reign—with notable figures like Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Erwin Schrödinger. Despite the series of unfortunate events which made the empire started to crumble, Austria-Hungary arguably has its cultural importance in Europe. Sounds like what Apollo would do if he’s a ruler, somehow.

Well, enough of his political achievements, let’s talk about his private life... which was probably the actual reason why I picked him.

Enter Duchess Elisabeth in Bavaria, the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, also known as Sisi.

On a side note, Marshal Louis-Alexandre Berthier of France, Prince of Neufchâtel and of Wargram, was Empress Sisi’s grand-uncle in-law via his marriage to Duchess Maria Elisabeth in Bavaria

Absolutely love Pia as Elisabeth in the musical so please don’t mind me using a gif from this :3 ((also, “Elisabeth” spoiler alert

Franz originally was to marry her sister Helene (nicknamed Néné), nevertheless, on the first meeting in Bad Ishl, he has fallen for the young Elisabeth, head over heels—making him defying his domineering mother, Archduchess Sophie, for the very first time. Elisabeth also liked him and did not expressed her refusal either, so they got married in St. Augustine’s Church in 29th April, 1854.

However, the marriage was not well. Sisi was not accustomed to the strict Austrian court especially Archduchess Sophie (also she was not really a fan of intimacy). Poor Franz was rather helpless in situations between his mother and his wife, and eventually, Sisi chose her freedom over her duty as Empress, traveling around the world. They two briefly went back together during the Austro-Hungarian compromise, yet she was constantly not there. Eventually, Sisi was assassinated by an anarchist named Luigi Lucheni during her stay in Geneva, Switzerland, and Franz was devastated over her death (“she will never know how much I love her”).

To Franz, he loved her so, but he really didn’t understand her needs. Even though he had countless mistresses and female companions in Vienna, he still missed his wife. I say, he was really unlucky when it comes to love. Like Apollo himself, he dated countless nymphs and humans, but a lot of his notable relationships did not have a good end. (Probably Cyrene was the most lucky one, yet she also has chosen to be left alone after mothering several children with Apollo.) For this, I picked Franz Joseph as Apollo.

5. Ares - Jean Lannes or Michel Ney

As usual, for those who don’t know much history, I shall briefly introduce my babeys these two great soldiers.

Jean Lannes was one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for being one of Napoleon’s closest friends and his fiery personality, and is considered one of the best marshals of the 1st French Empire. His finest moments including the Battle of Ratisbon in which he led his men to storm the well-guarded city with ladders (hence his nickname “ladder lord” in our very humble Napoleonic marshalate fandom :3). Sadly, he died of the wound he received in the battle of Aspern-Essling in 1809.

Michel Ney was also one of the marshals of Napoleon, known for his extreme valour (yep, he is known as the “Bravest of the Brave”). As you might know, he was one of the marshals who was in Waterloo, yet, his finest hour was during the retreat from Russia in the disasterous 1812. Sadly, he was arguably the most prominent victim of the White Terror under the second Bourbon restoration, executed in 1815 (**I am not accepting any kind of conspiracy theories of my babey survived and died in America😤).

Speaking of Ares, I have a lot of things to say (that’s my dad ;-; no jkjk). He is really not that bloodthirsty idiot who casually hates humans. Well, he’s more like a fiery dork and a man who was very faithful to his lovers, and fights very well (by the way also one of the best dads). So, the bois that come into my mind are automatically two of the most courageous marshals of France.

Lannes, if I have to get him a godly parent, it would definitely Ares. He resembled the god a lot (also I sometimes imagined Ares as a smol bean with dark hair), probably looks the most like Ares himself. He got that fiery temper, that faithfulness to his wife Louise, also being a very courageous fighter in the field—well he literally was like, “NO LEMME STORM DAT CITY *grabs ladder*”.

There you have it, my big bro our ladder lord Jean Lannes who can pull off a perfect Ares.

Ney is like a slightly introverted (and mature) version of an Ares person. You can guess his temper already through his famed auburn hair, and indeed despite his shy exterior his temper sometimes was a bit explosive, and a bit impatient (which was somehow one of his fatal flaws). He was a great fighter, known as a skilled swordsman in his youth. And you all know how brave he is in his famed epithet. Michel Ney is purely badass (and C U T E) you know (and he needs a lot of hugs because he has really been though a lot in the wars, and was a possible case of PTSD which was shown in his arguably suicidal behaviour during the battle of Waterloo). That’s why I casted him as the Greek god Ares OwO

//

And there you have it, my interpretations on the Greek gods via people in history. I originally would like to include more but somehow I realised that I have written too much about my picks. So, if you want to add more, reblog this post or tag me on the post you made on this topic (and please use the hashtag “mythical figures as historical people” so that I could look into your choices via the search bubble on this app🥺).

Last but not the least, I hope you all lovelies like this, also have learnt something new via my brief introductions on some historical people. Have a great day!

[jakey-beefed-it]

Today was... almost completely unproductive, even for me, due to various mental Crises that arose in the like... Venn diagram overlap of my sundry issues. Mental health talk below the cut so you can avoid it if you’ve got your own shit to deal with/might be triggered by that kind of thing.

Kinda did almost a checklist of disorders being problems. ADHD brain? Represented. Autism? Probably! Depression? You betcha. Anxiety? Hoo boy and then some. Mania? Maybe! Self-loathing? Energy levels off the charts, cap’n. Basically my brain was the equivalent of blaring alarms from all quarters and spinning out of control.

Anyhow I eventually managed to... not be doing that ...and in the process kinda realized that maaaaybe I haven’t been Handling My Shit as well as I thought. Like I’m medicated... for depression. Which is good! I haven’t thought seriously about literally killing myself for several years now. That’s a big improvement! Not to be sneezed at. But it’s hardly a panacea for the rest of my bullshit.

Anyhow anyhow I’ve internalized a loooot of really horrible shit I’m always speaking out against as an anti-capitalist pro-mutual-aid aspiring feminist; basing my self-worth on lots of unattainable things that I don’t even believe in but that somehow equate to me being a Failure as a Man(TM) for being a hot mess disability soup. Some of it is also no doubt related to the whole ‘Gifted’ Kid Burnout phenomenon as well. I was ‘a pleasure to have in class’ and always sought approval and validation because I had anxiety, not because I was gifted, sheesh. Whole childhood equating my value with being ‘smart’ and then having my entire ego collapse under the inevitable weight of not being able to hack it in my first attempt at college because my brain was actively trying to kill me with self-hatred that only got worse the more I failed to live up to my ‘potential’.

I’m much less of an elitist shitbag these days regarding myself as no different from any other h. sapiens sapiens in that we are all fundamentally dumb, panicky apes who sometimes need a minute to remember the whole tool-use or reason things. But while I’m really good at not holding it against other people for being dumb panicky apes, even though I don’t regard myself as better than anyone (far from it) I still somehow hold myself to these standards I long since dismissed as unreasonable to expect of anyone, much less a guy with a grab-bag of mental illnesses that makes his spongy thinkmeat even less effective than biology normally dictates. And inevitably fail to live up to them, of course. And then feel worse about myself. Forever. Well, ok, not forever, even if I do continue to manage the no-self-murder streak (which seems likely) I’m still definitely going to kick off at some point. But for my whole damn existence, which sucks plenty.

Anyhow anyhow anyhow here goes the first of hopefully many simple admissions of imperfections and forgiveness of that.

I am not a digital artist. I could spend lots of time and effort to develop those skills, but frankly I don’t... wanna. Instead of feeling guilty at having abandoned pursuit of the lovely art tablet my family got me many years ago that they ‘wasted’ their gift, I can just admit that I’d much rather continue drawing in pencil, inking in pigment liners, and scanning into a digital format for sharing on the internet. I like tactile hobbies; it’s why I get so much out of painting miniatures. And digital art is still tactile in that you’re holding a stylus and/or tablet, but it’s not the same, and I prefer physical art on physical paper. And that’s okay.

I am not a fantastic dungeon master. I’m aight. I am, in the words of the best mug ever (a gift from my sister), the “World’s Okayest Dungeon Master.” I can put together a campaign, it will mostly hang together, my combat encounters will vary from ‘pretty good’ to ‘super boring’ but my plots are generally interesting and my players keep coming back so I must be doing something right.

This one’s kind of cheating because I’ve acknowledged it before both publicly and internally for like... fifteen years ...but I am not, and never will be, a world-class miniature painter. I don’t have the manual dexterity, the patience for producing and executing many many layers of very fine glazes, or a strong enough desire to devote more effort to improvement than befits a hobby I mostly do to relax. And that’s okay. I paint pretty good, and I slowly get better. Sometimes I’m the best painter in my local store! And that’s good the hell enough to satisfy my external competitiveness, while my internal competitiveness of striving to do better than I myself have done before gets all the real attention. I do want to improve! And so I do, but at a steady pace that doesn’t stress me out.

I’m not a diligent writer at all. I like writing, and I love coming up with plots and characters, but I’m terrible at sticking to a daily writing habit. I’d like to get better at that, and I can, with effort. Honestly giving myself permission to write more fannish bullshit (Warhammer stories, SW:tOR stories, D&D stories) might help clear some of the roadblock. I don’t shit on other fan writers; I long ago admitted that it’s valid and cool when other people do it, but to this day I have still only written a handful of Warhammer bullshit and one (1) Mass Effect fanfic. All the while my idea for a novel has grown and evolved and never really gotten past a very rough first draft that is now almost completely useless due to rethinking everything because I’m not in the habit of actually writing. I can do something about that!

I desperately want everyone to like me and think well of me and never be mad at me but you know what, that’s not... remotely achievable much less healthy. I have various tendencies toward ‘people pleasing’ that tend to end up with my own boundaries trodden upon and far more people taking advantage than real friends. I am very fortunate in that I DO have some real friends, many of them online, but yeah. It’s okay if not everyone likes me. Even if they somehow did, it wouldn’t make up for the all-consuming singularity-like wound of self-loathing that the people-pleasing urge is probably trying to fill.

I can be unreliable due to my many, many issues. Most of them are mental, but some of them are physical. I can’t always do things that should be ‘easy’, whether it’s my brain saying no, or my body. Instead of making too many promises for fear of ‘looking’ disabled and/or trying to make everyone happy... sometimes I need to admit that there are things I do not have the capacity for. Preferably ahead of time, rather than bailing at the last minute or just.... not showing up. This probably would’ve been good to know about myself before I nearly failed out of college in my first attempt but hey, hindsight and all that.

I might be about as cis and straight as a guy can get, but I am not and will never be anything remotely like an Idealized Man due to my weight, disabilities, general body type (even at my thinnest I had a belly pooch and flabby chest), shit, right down to my hair but that’s got some big overlap with the Idealized Man being a straight-haired white boy when I’m merely a wavy/curly-haired white-passing boy. And shit, if I had some gender fuckery that’d be a whole other animal, but even though I kinda got assigned male and went ‘Yeah that’s about right’ I still deserve to not have to live up to some unattainable ideal.

There’s... a lot more, obviously (hoo boy is there a lot more) but that’ll do for a start.

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {1/?}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused. 

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate. 

He’s screwed. And not in the good way. 

Rating: Mature (mostly for jokes now and for...other things later)

A/N: Hello, friends! It’s me coming at you with more words! This time they’re of the supernatural variety for @cssns with *gasp* a soulmate fic. It’s a fun one guys. Seriously. It’s an absolutely ridiculous concept (soulmates + aroused by each other’s voices), but I’m having fun writing it! I’ve got eight chapters written so far, and I’m itching to share them with you! 

A special shoutout to @captainsjedi for her incredible artwork and for being my number one cheerleader as these words were dragged out of me. I feel super honored for her to have made this art for my story! And thank you to the organizers for doing such great work! So, everybody ready? 😁

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @dreameronarooftop15 @searchingwardrobes @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81@thejollyroger-writer @xellewoods @cssns

-/-

One.

Two.

Three.

It’s the pattern he keeps tapping against his thigh as he sits at his desk, the clock on the wall ticking loud enough for him to hear. If he’s busy enough, it’s silent. But when he has time to idle and not focus on something in particular, when he’s anxious to get to go home, he can hear each individual tick as the seconds and minutes pass by. He’s always been sensitive to sounds, the quietest of whispers sometimes equivalent to yelling directly in his ear, but over the years, he’s learned to block the sounds out, to control how voices and taps and screeches affect him.

His clock is driving him insane.

He wants to go home.

And it’s not because he hates his job or anything. Sure, some days it’s like actual torture, nails on a chalkboard multiplied by at least seventeen, especially with the sensitivity of his ears, but most of the time he enjoys designing boats, ships, and the like. He enjoys working with Liam every single day and getting to draw up someone’s dream vessel like he often did as a child when he had nothing more than a pencil and a notebook of battered paper. Really, his job is a way to make his childhood dreams become a reality but in a financially responsible way.

For him. Not for the people who buy custom boats.

He likely wouldn’t enjoy it if he didn’t make any money. Designing boats is a hell of a lot of fun, but he does so enjoy having an apartment (some of the American terms have integrated into his vocabulary by now it seems) to go home to and food to eat. Honestly, he likes tea far too much to not be able to afford it.

How stereotypically British is he?

It doesn’t even matter. He likes tea, and he won’t let anyone try to convince him otherwise. His cabinet in his kitchen keeps him supplied with caffeine, and if it’s all arranged by size of bag and flavor, no one has to know that. He doesn’t live with anyone, so it’s completely fine.

Liam would make fun of him for ages if he knew of all of Killian’s little tendencies and specificities on how to run his life. Liam already has too much fun teasing him about the binders and books on his shelves in his office, but really, of all of the places to be organized, why not in the office? It’s not his fault that Liam lives in a disorganized mess.

Once a Navy man, always a Navy man doesn’t quite hold true when it comes to one half of the team at The Jewel: A Boating Design Company. He was never sold on the name, but it was Liam’s idea so he went along with it. And the odd name hasn’t seemed to keep any clients away, so it’s obviously worked out.

He still wants to go home.

And technically he could. Technically he’s a boss here and could go home whenever he wants, but he doesn’t like to leave before six. It’s bad business, and it’s never a bad thing to keep his mind focused on work. He’s always got a million thoughts whirling around in his head, and focusing on work keeps him grounded.

But today is a different day. Today is difficult for him. It’s an anniversary of sorts, but it’s not the good kind. It’s not roses (or sunflowers because in his opinion, roses are overrated) and wine and beautiful jewelry over a nice dinner with small servings when all people really want is to sit at home and eat pizza on the couch. No, it’s an anniversary of loss.

Of loss that’s not as final as death, and yet it still has its own particular sting that tends to linger. It’s a loss in his life that he’s felt many a time, but this one, this particular woman, well, her loss stung the most.

Her loss stings the most.

And it’s all because of the universe and its twisted sense of fate. He doesn’t mean that in a “weird shit happens” kind of way. He means that in the universe is a piece of shit that has lives decided before the people who live them are even born. It doesn’t matter what you do or how you live. The universe is always standing at the plate ready to throw a curveball and strike you out.

One strike.

Two strikes.

Three strikes.

You’re out.

Soulmate.

Or soul mate with two words. The universe has everything predestined, but apparently, they couldn’t decide on words in dictionaries and whether or not it was one combined word or two separate words. And that’s just scratching the surface of language and grammar, and he only speaks English and a tiny bit of French. Things just get more complicated when you move beyond that.

But that’s not the point. He can worry about grammar on another day. Right now he’s thinking about the unfortunateness of soulmates (soul mates…nope, he’s just going to decide it’s one word for him) and just how completely screwed up it all is.

No one really knows how the human race figured out that there are two people who are perfectly matched up in every single way. It doesn’t mean there aren’t fights and arguments and petty squabbles over who did the dishes or turning the air conditioner up too high. It simply means that somewhere out there, there’s a person who, when it counts, matches up to you so well that the universe has decided to they are your person.

They are the Christina Yang to your Meredith Grey.

(Yes, he’s watched Grey’s Anatomy, and no, he is not ashamed...of seasons one through six. It gets a little murky after that.)

But what happens if your soulmate dies? What happens if you never meet them? What happens if you fall in love with someone only to find out that their sign or their mark or their soul doesn’t at all match up with yours? What happens if you love someone so deeply that you don’t think your heart can take it anymore, and they leave you because the words written across their ankle are not also written across yours?

What happens if you don’t have words written at all?

He doesn’t. He doesn’t have the words. He doesn’t have any kind of indication as to how to find this so-called perfect match of his. He has no idea.

And he doesn’t need to ask the question of what happens when you love someone who is not your soulmate because he knows. He knows that the love can be real and deep and true, and yet the moment that person finds their matching mark, suddenly things start to crumble and fall apart. Questions begin to be asked, and there are no answers. There are no answers that are correct anyhow. It’s as if you’re taking one of those standardized tests where all four answers are correct, but you have to choose the one that’s the most correct.

Bullocks.

That’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, and yet he’s taken the standardized tests. He had to, but that’s really not the point.

(Also, he wonders if soulmate magic is real, are other types of magic real? Is Harry Potter based off of something true? Could he have gone to Hogwarts?)

Milah found her soulmate, and it wasn’t him. She loved him, but she let him go. And he cannot begrudge her for it. No, she’s doing what will truly make her happy, and he wants her to be happy. She deserves it.

He just wishes that it had been him.

The universe apparently had other ideas.

And four years later, he still doesn’t know his mark.

Four years later, he still loves her even if he shouldn’t, even if he knows he should have moved on.

Liam could hear Elsa’s thoughts at night when he was lying down to sleep. It wasn’t in his dreams, though he has heard of those, but simply once the darkness fell outside. They’d known each other in their thoughts since they were children, a love predestined and predetermined that found its way to life despite the countries that were spread out between them. He’s always been jealous of his older brother for a lot of things, but knowing who his love is and getting to know her for his entire life, that may be the thing which fills him with the most envy.

He’s not even sure that he wants to know who his soulmate is, but when he thinks of his brother and the happiness of his life with his wife and his children, he wonders how two people so genetically similar could have such different paths in life.

Robin’s had been a simple tattoo on his forearm. He knew that all he needed was to find his match, and even though it took into his mid-thirties, he did.

Mid-thirties are truly not old – especially since he himself just turned thirty five – but in a society that is obsessed with love and procreation, Robin might as well have been a lonely elderly man with no chance at love…and Robin’s a man. It’s much worse for women, which is fundamentally unfair. But he’s a designer of boats, not a designer of the universe, so he can’t exactly fix that.

Will, well, Will’s soulmate sign is one that Killian is rather fond of if he’s honest. He found Belle because he’d started spending time in a library, and whenever he would touch certain books, fingerprints would start glowing. They were small, dainty things, so he knew that they weren’t his. But the prints glowed, and as he moved throughout the library, he noticed that every book had fingerprints that glowed. And thus he found Belle, the librarian, and even though they don’t seem to match up, they do.

Everyone he knows is living life with someone they’re supposed to be with, happiness and issues all combined, and he’s…not.

He doesn’t think his life will suddenly become perfect if he were to meet this mystery woman. He doesn’t. His life is wonderful. He loves his friends and family. He loves his job and his hobbies. He loves his life.

Today is simply a hard day.

Today is simply a day of loss.

But tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he’ll go back to normal, and he won’t feel the loss of his love so much.

As much.

“Hey, did you get the Santos order?”

“Shit,” he mumbles, jumping in his seat at Ariel’s voice. He knows that she likely spoke at a normal volume, but he wasn’t focusing and had zoned out. Her voice startled him. It doesn’t help that she takes pleasure in annoying him. “Sorry, love. You surprised me.”

“I knocked three times there, Jones,” she sighs, walking into his office and dropping a note down on his desk. “I know it’s late in the day and all, but you’re really zoning out.”

“That is the pot calling the kettle black, A,” he laughs, rolling forward in his chair to look at the note she has, her chicken scratch written across the notecard. “You zone out at lunch thinking about how someone invented the fork.”

“It’s true. You’ve got to think about things like that. You okay though? You’ve got that pensive, brooding look all over your face.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before looking up at her and stretching his hands up behind his head, the small ache pleasant. “I’m going to fire you for someone who doesn’t know me as well.”

“My severance package would be fantastic, so you can go ahead and do that. But I also know you’d be lost without me, so that’s not going to happen. No one else in the world knows which pens of yours not to use.”

“That can be taught.”

“Yeah, but no one else is going to accept your weirdness.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Anyways,” she sighs, sitting down in the chair across from his desk and crossing her leg over her knee, “Eric and I are having a dinner at our house on Friday night, and you’re coming.”

He raises an eyebrow while he tries to keep his lips from curling up into a smile because he knows exactly why they’re having a dinner. She’s been his assistant for three years, and somewhere along the way she became one of his closest friends. She also drives him mad with how she doesn’t listen to him at all.

“Are you not even asking? Just demanding?”

She shrugs and flicks a speck off of her pants. “I’m telling you. It’s at seven, lots of our friends are coming, and you will be there if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

He hums and taps his fingers against the desk, the sound of his clock no longer in his earshot. “Fine. I think maybe I can be persuaded by some free food that I know is really a dinner party to announce your pregnancy.”

Her lips part, jaw nearly dropping, before she snaps it shut and gets up, walking over to him and knocking him upside the head. “You’re an asshole. That’s supposed to be a secret. How the hell did you know?”

“This note that you just gave me has baby names and a gynecologist appointment on it and not the Santos order.”

“Pregnancy brain is a real thing,” she huffs before slapping his head again and walking out of the room.

“Congratulations,” he shouts, leaning forward in his chair and smiling to himself. It’s a day of loss, but not everything is bad. It’s also a day of life.

He does spend the night drowning himself in a glass of rum, but it’s just the one filled a little too close to the brim. And he doesn’t spend entirely too much time thinking about Milah and all of the women and heartbreak that have come before her. He only spends what he would consider an acceptable amount of time, and if it was most of the night, no one has to know that but him.

Those are the perks of living alone.

Well, that and eating food in nothing but his boxers while watching reruns of whatever the hell he wants.

The Office.

It was The Office. He spends far too much time watching The Office and also…in his office. But that’s something else. That’s work, and it’s not filled with quite the same amount of comedy. Though he is thinking about putting Liam’s stapler in some jello. That’s not as funny in real life, but he’s not exactly sure if he’s desperate enough to wrap up Liam’s entire office in wrapping paper.

It’d have to be some birthday paper or something. It’s April, so Christmas paper likely wouldn’t work. Of course, it’s April, so Christmas paper would likely be on sale. This is sounding better and better, but he’s not going to do it. He’s going to keep on going with his life and make sure that Ariel isn’t setting him up on a date at this dinner party he’s been at for thirty minutes like he’s pretty sure she’s doing with her friend Jane.

Amazingly enough, the existence of soulmates does not keep people from setting him up on blind dates.

You’d think there would be at least one perk.

Besides the whole perfect match thing and all.

That’s supposedly a perk.

“Would you excuse me for just one minute, love?” he asks Jane, flashing her his most sincere smile and squeezing her shoulder before walking toward his brother who is talking to Will and Robin in the corner of the backyard.

“BJ,” Will greets, grinning from ear to ear as Killian shakes his head.

“You cannot call me that, Scarlett,” he groans. His protests don’t matter at all, but he can hope. He can hope that one day one of his friends will listen to him.

It’s a pipe dream.

“Well, baby Jones isn’t quite as funny as BJ.”

“You have the humor of a fifteen-year-old lad.”

“At least I’m not boring like you,” he scoffs before he takes another sip of his beer. “How’s your little date going over there?”

“So you can tell that it’s a set up?”

“Little brother,” Liam sighs, clapping his hand down on his shoulder, “you scratched your ear enough times for us to know you were nervous. Plus Ariel told us. She was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement.”

“Younger. I’m younger, and of course she did. Jane is…she’s a nice woman, but I’m not really in the mood for another date.”

Suddenly his head starts pounding, sounds muting for a moment before he hones in on a laugh, a laugh that has his skin heating and gooseflesh rising over his arms as he only focuses in on it before all of the other sounds come back to him, the laugh fading into the background. He doesn’t know what the hell just happened, but he’s not going to focus on it when he’s got to deal with his brother and his best mates being undeniable assholes.

Tuning things out has always kind of been his thing anyways.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Robin helpfully supplies, “but I think the lass likes you, so I’d turn her down easy.”

“There’s nothing to turn down.”

“She might not know that.”

“Anyways,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, “how long do you think A is going to drag this along until we get to eat dinner?”

“I’d say until she finishes talking to her friends over there.” Liam points to a group of women standing on the other side of the deck. He recognizes Ariel and her friend Mary Margaret. He’s been to her house and met her husband. David? He thinks his name is David and that he’s a detective. And obviously he recognizes his sister-in-law, but he doesn’t recognize two of them. One of them is tall, her legs stretching on for miles, and she’s got straight brunette hair that falls down her back with the tips of it covered in red. The other woman is shorter, but not necessarily short, and her blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail so that he can see the openness of her dress as it dips down her bare back and rests just above the curve of her waist. He doesn’t know her at all, and he wonders how. Ariel may simply work with him, but she’s made him such a part of her personal life that he feels like he knows all of her friends.

Then again, he didn’t know Jane, so obviously she has several friends she wants to announce her pregnancy to that he’s never met. They’re all ships passing in the night.

Of course, it’s not quite night yet and they’re definitely not ships, but his point still stands.

Or sails.

He can design a ship that would work for this purpose.

He has too much time on his hands.

All of the sounds mute again before the same laugh as before comes back, but this time he knows exactly where the sound is coming from. It’s coming from the blonde who’s talking to Ariel, and he can feel his skin heating up again, the flesh pricking and hair rising across his body as a shiver runs through him. He knows this feeling. He knows it well. It’s the start of something that he usually finds pleasant, but it’s not something that he finds pleasant while standing in a public place with all of his friends around.

Will may have the humor of a teenager, but apparently Killian has the uncontrollable sex drive of one.

Shit.

This is not good.

He needs to think of the government or his grandmother or people who think Hawaiian shirts can be worn to the office as casual wear when they live in Maine because his jeans are rather tight and he’s afraid that nothing can be hidden when he’s feeling a little excited.

Or a lot excited.

When he should not be excited at all.

Oh hell. He’s aroused. He’s not excited. He’s aroused, and there is absolutely no reason for it. Does he even need a reason? Probably not. Still though. This is a problem he doesn’t really want to have right now at his assistant’s barbecue to announce that she’s created a spawn of her loins.

Those are the only loins he should be thinking about.

Not Ariel’s loins, though. That is…this is all too much for him.

“Hey, lover boy,” Will whistles, and suddenly the laughter is fading away so that he can focus on the sound of Will’s whistle and the wind that’s causing the leaves on trees to rustle and mix in with all of the conversations that are happening, “you’ve got to stop staring at Emma or she will kick your ass all the way back to England.”

Emma.

“Who is that?” he ponders, reaching to scratch his beard. He should have shaved this morning, but he didn’t have time to clean his scruff up. “Emma? You said her name was Emma?”

“Aye,” Will confirms, his fingers tapping along the glass of his bottle and picking up the condensation. “Emma Swan. She lives with Belle. I’m bloody terrified of her sometimes, but she’s fun.”

“Why are you terrified of her?”

“Because she’s a cop. A detective, I think, and I’ve seen first hand just how good she is at kickboxing.”

“Why? Did you beat your ass for saying something dumb?”

Will rolls his eyes as both Robin and Liam chuckle, even if they try to muffle the sound. “I may have said something a bit unsavory one night, and she may have literally kicked my ass for it. But I’m on the straight and narrow path now.”

“Huh. So she did what we’ve all been wanting to do for years now. I like her.”

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Liam prods, wrapping his arm around Killian’s shoulder and slapping him harder than he should. “Are you scared to talk to another girl? Is this going to be like teenage Killian who can’t flirt with more than one woman in a day without being terrified of having to do it again?”

“Sod off.”

“I’m telling you,” Liam starts, but Killian moves out from under his arm and walks away from the group of them so that he can go inside and get a glass of water, not really interested in hearing Liam teasing him about his childhood. It doesn’t bother him, but he’s heard it all before and doesn’t really need to hear about it again. It’s still been A Week, and there’s only so much teasing about his relationships that he can take when he’s still mourning the loss of one.

Once he gets into the kitchen, he grabs a cup off the counter and fills it with ice and water from the fridge, the sound of the ice machine drowning everything out so that he doesn’t hear someone come in behind him. He doesn’t hear her, so he’s got no idea that she’s within a foot of him when he turns around and hits her shoulder, the cup of ice cold water in his hand spilling all over the front of her dress.

Of Emma’s dress.

Of Emma’s white dress.

Because it’s the woman who he was just admiring who he spilled a drink on.

“Holy shirt-balls that’s cold.”

He wants to laugh at her words, at her The Good Place reference, but then it’s happening again. His skin is heating, his temperature rising by several noticeable degrees, and he can feel the hair on his body begin to rise while his jeans tighten. How are his jeans still tightening? His erection can’t get any worse.

Holy shirt-balls indeed.

What the hell is happening to him?

“I’m sorry, love,” he stutters, trying to focus his hearing so that everything won’t be so heightened, but then his eyes glance down at the way that the material of her dress is clinging to her skin, the edges molding to her breasts, and everything gets worse. So, so much worse. He loves women. He’s never denied that. But hell, he should not be having this kind of reaction. This is not some kind of bad porn movie.

This is not some kind of raunchy romantic comedy either.

This is his life.

She’s got fantastic breasts.

Nope. Nope. Nope. He can’t be thinking that. He shouldn’t be thinking that. Something is happening to him, and he needs it to stop.

“I mean, I would say it’s not your fault, but you did spill the water on me,” she laughs, grabbing onto her dress and squeezing the water out a bit as she makes her way further into the kitchen to grab a towel and wipe herself down.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Again. You’re Emma, right?”

She’s still dabbing at her dress when she looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. Her cheeks are flushed red, and he’s not sure if it’s from spending the evening outside or from the embarrassment of him spilling water on her. But she’s got these beautifully flushed cheeks and light emerald eyes that can’t seem to focus on him, her gaze constantly changing.

With how uncomfortable his jeans are right now, he’s honestly kind of wishing that he had ice water dumped on him.

Seriously. What the hell is happening to him?

“Um, yeah. How do you know that?”

“Will told me. I’m…we’re old friends. Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan,” she sighs, continuing to dab at her dress while he looks away. He has to look away or he’s going to do something inappropriate by anyone’s standards. Something is happening to him, to his mind and his body, and he needs it to stop right now. “You know, if you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was introduce yourself, no spilled water involved. And if you wanted to see my tits, well, I should warn you that I carry around a gun for a living, and I don’t take too kindly to things like that.”

“I can promise you that wasn’t my intention.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me right now?”

“Swan, if I’m honest, it’s because I can see both through and down your dress, and it’s not proper to look no matter how much I want to.”

Holy shit. Why did he just say that?

“Is it hot in here?” Emma asks, changing the subject, and he has never been more thankful for anything in his entire life. Though, really, if she could stop talking, he would be thankful for that too. Her voice is focused in his ears, every word reverberating and spinning around so that he can focus on nothing but her. It’s like her laughter earlier. His body instinctively tuned into it, focused on it, and it caused this same feeling of arousal to base itself at his spine.

And every word she says, makes it worse.

Fuck.

He somehow knows what’s happening, his brain instantly making the connections, and if he could walk out the front door and have never come to this party, he probably would.

Emma Swan is mostly likely his soulmate if the way his senses are picking up are any indication, and every word she says gives him the most inappropriate erection.

Her voice arouses him, and it’s not in a normal way.

Of all the soulmate signs, why this?

Couldn’t he have gotten a damn butterfly tattoo right above his ass instead?

[ktrsss1fics]

AU Art School One Shot Series

Do you know what’s more fun than sitting through a lecture about Cubism?

Just about anything. Actually I take that back. Sitting in a crowded lecture hall while some middle-aged art history professor drones on and on about the stylistic differences between Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso is more fun than any course involving letters disguised as numbers. I don’t understand why anyone would want to pursue studies in maths. Another thing I don’t understand is why in the hell Harry Styles is so keen on being my friend. We first met in our First Year Drawing course. He made some idiotic joke about pencils and I unfortunately laughed at it. It’s been two years and I still can’t go anywhere art related without his stupid face popping up. It’s ridiculous. Harry is the type of guy that probably should be down in the liberal arts wing studying literature or psychology. He should be the leader of the decathlon team and president of the anti-bullying club. He should be spending his weekends hanging out by the pool before doing a pub crawl. He shouldn’t be buried knee deep in plaster gabbing on about how fantastic the Italian Renaissance actually was. He shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor of the printmaking building on a Friday night because his orange just isn’t right. He shouldn’t be walking in the door of this overstuffed lecture hall with his perfectly sculpted man-bun and a spool of chicken wire under his arm. But he was. “Hey Huckleberry.” He chirped slipping into the empty seat beside me. “That’s not my name Harry.” I mumbled annoyed. “For me it is.” He laughed grabbing his notebook from his bag. “Did you do the reading last night?” I shook my head before yawning, “Spent the entire night planning out my piece for Davidson’s final.” “You haven’t done that yet?” He asked shocked. Harry and I were taking an intermedia course that attempted to bridge the gap between various mediums. For our final project, we had to do some sort of performance piece around campus. Performance art might seem easy but it’s the real deal. Every ounce of energy in your body is poured into performing your piece. The projects performed so far had been brilliant. “I had the gist down but after yesterday I feel like I’m not doing enough.” I explained. “When’s your performance date?” He asked searching for a pen. “Next week.” “Lucky.” He sighed. “When’s yours?” “Uh an hour after this lecture.” Harry stated. “It’ll be out in front of The Hub.” I turned my full attention to him. “Well shit that’s quick.” “Tell me about it.” He smiled. I couldn’t imagine having to perform today. I still hadn’t truly finalised mine yet. Or gotten it approved for that matter. “What are you doing for it?” I asked throwing an extra pen at him. “I can’t tell you.” He smiled graciously. “You know the rules.” “I didn’t think Harry Styles played by the rules.” I smirked. His smile grew. “He doesn’t… usually. Davidson is making me.” “Oh right.” I nod. “ Blame it on him.” “Its true. He said its a genius plan and he doesn’t want any of you procrastinators to steal it.” Harry teased earning himself a dirty look. “I’m only joking Huck.” “All I can really say is that it’s going to make me look like a modern day Abramović.” He shrugged. I couldn’t fight the urge to roll my eyes. There was no way in hell this guy was going to create something that could even be compared to Marina Abramović. No offence to him but she is like the queen of performance art and Harry, well, doesn’t like doing Davidson’s warm up exercises. “I can already see the judgement in your eyes Sawyer Smith.” He smiled. “Go ahead and judge me.” “I’m not judging you Harry. That’s just a bold statement.” I explained. “Well I’m a bold lad.” He winked. I groaned. “Oh gag me.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “If you come to it, maybe I will.” “Why do you keep trying to make this happen?” He looked confused. “What?” “Us.” I said pointing between us. “Being friends.” Before he could reply, the lights dimmed and our professor started to speak. I readjusted myself in my seat and prepared for what was going to be another hour of boredom. The TA started up a discussion about the reading assignment from the night before and as usual, the three aggressively opinionated kiss asses of our class fought for the spotlight. A battle of the pretentious perspectives had begun. Harry fidgeted in his seat. I could tell he wanted to say something. I did my best to focus all of my attention on the screen in the front of the room. I hadn’t meant to be offensive or rude but it was true. He was constantly making an effort to form some type of friendship with me and I never understood why. We were two different people. He was loud and friendly and I just wasn’t. I kept to myself and got my work done. I didn’t see how we could make it work so I always kept my distance. Apparently that didn’t sit well with him. A pause in the conversation came and I felt the boy beside me start to move closer. His arm rested on the back of my chair as his mouth moved towards my ear. “Sawyer, you know I like you right?” His husky voice whispered softly. “Like you are really really cool.” “Harry…” I sighed. “No don’t ‘Harry’ me. I’m trying to explain myself because obviously me wanting to be friends is such a horrible concept.” He stayed annoyed. “I never said that.” I glanced at him. “Well I’m pretty sure it’s been painted across your fucking forehead for years.” He said frustrated. “Look I’m not really asking for much. I just want to be friends with you. I want to be able to make late night coffee runs with you while we are waiting for our canvases to dry.” “That’s oddly specific.” I replied dryly. “Will you please just stop? This is hard enough for me. You already are the most intimidating girl in this entire department.” He blushed. “What?” “You’re scary.” “No I’m not.” “Yes you are. You always have been.” I could feel my cheeks starting to grow warm. Was I really that scary? “It’s because you are quiet but have a really profound opinion. Don’t try to fight me on that because its true. You have one of the most unique perspectives on life and um I just want to pick your brain sometimes because I think it’d help me grow as an artist and a person for that matter.” He admitted shyly. “You know that human form sculpture we had to do for Kinney’s class? I still can’t get over how you made it.” A full fledged blush attacked my face. I wasn’t one who took compliments well especially from guys like him. “It wasn’t that tough to make.” “Yeah because you’re the one making it. I’ve attempted it three times since then and it’s never worked out.” He laughed. “You’re something else, Sawyer.” “I’m really not.” I shook my head. “And I’m not intimidating either.” “And I’m not the funniest person you’ve ever met.” He said crossing his arms over his chest. “You aren’t.” “Funny you should say that because if my memory is correct you were the one dying from laughter at my hilarious pencil joke way back when.” “Oh fuck off.” I said fighting back a smile. He leaned in close once more, “Hour after class. The Hub. Be there.”

++

The hour long lecture flew by. As I left the building, I realized I had two options. The first being a selfish decision to head home and sleep. The second being the more obvious choice. I grabbed myself a warm coffee and a muffin before searching for a seat outside The Hub.

I wasn’t here because I wanted to be friends with Harry Styles.

I was here because I appreciated art and, as much as I hated to admit it, Harry was a great artist. I don’t know how he did it but he always seemed to put a quirky spin on things.

And that was admirable.

I bit into my muffin and scanned the quad. Familiar faces started to appear as the anticipation started to build. For many of us art students, this was the equivalent to a football match. All of our energy and spirit was poured into watching whomever was performing.

It wasn’t long before a sign appeared. The message was simple, “Pick your weapon and induce war.”

Piles of pens, tubes of paint, and mounds of markers lay at the feet of a man who was Manchester’s version of Christ the Redeemer. With arms outstretched, he was dressed in white from head to toe. His hair was pulled into a perfectly sculpted bun and a blank stare adorned his features.

It was game time.

A few of our classmates were the first to make their move. It wasn’t long before random people passing by stopped to contribute to the chaos. They gathered round Harry with pens and markers hoping to create something great. They didn’t though because that wasn’t the point.

This wasn’t about the things that were created or the way his clothes looked in the end. This was more than that. Harry was the Messiah bringing modern art to the masses. He was educating a stubborn class of people on the beauty of creation and that was nearly mindblowing.

The boy who made a lousy joke about pencils first term had assembled one of the most thought provoking pieces in our entire class and I really couldn’t believe it.

The pain in the ass who always tried to get my attention finally had in the best way possible.

A good hour into the piece, there was a lull in the activity. No one had come up and scribbled something on him in a while. Everyone just sat watching and waiting. Waiting for him to move or speak or breathe wrongly.

The size of the crowd that had formed and the amount of whispers being shared throughout the quad really said something about the way our culture was. As people, we rarely investigate things on our own. If something abnormal is taking place, we don’t try to find out what it is. We stand back and gossip about what we think is going on.

And I think that was one of things Harry was trying to talk about.

Our ancestors were adventurers and thinkers and doers. They didn’t sit around waiting for things to be explained to them. They went out and sought answers. They dug in the dirt until artifacts were found. They swam in the sea until things made sense. They went into the world and thought for themselves.

They weren’t glued to their computers or mobiles or trashy magazines. They were glued to their imagination and life and curiosity.

At the end of it, isn’t that really what art is? Life, imagination, and curiosity wrapped into a single piece. It’s doing something to make others think. It’s getting a reaction from a planned out action. It’s standing in front of the busiest building on campus with your arms outstretched while people attack you with words and actions. It’s attempting to befriend the one girl in class that everyone’s afraid of. It’s proving that you’re worth it.

And after seeing the concentration on his face, I had a feeling that Harry was. Being his friend wouldn’t be as horrible as I originally intended. He wasn’t just that annoying guy in all of my classes. He wasn’t the know-it-all with the obnoxiously perfect hair. He was a serious artist trying to make the world a little less shitty and that in itself was somewhat appealing.

He closed his eyes. The pain of keeping still was obviously started to set in. This was the perfect time to make my move. I threw away my trash before heading towards the table to find a tool to use. I settled on an orange calligraphy marker and walked towards Harry’s back. After a few moments of planning, I decided on what I was going leave scrawled on his body. A simple “Huck” and a string of numbers that I knew Harry would appreciate took up the space between his shoulder blades.

I dropped the pen off at the table, sent the focused boy a nod, and was on my way.

++

My phone buzzed loudly on my desk. A text message from an unknown number appeared across the screen. A tiny smile formed as I read what it had said.

I knew you’d come around Huck x

[robbyrobinson]

What I Want to See from the Loud House

When I was a kid I loved cartoons. Now, I'm not going to be that guy and say that all 90s cartoons were amazing, when clearly not all shows airing at that time were smash hits. I was a frequent watcher of Cartoon Network where I could find an assortment of cartoons to watch ranging from Ed, Edd n Eddy, Dexter's Laboratory, Johnny Bravo, the list goes on. However, that was nothing compared to Nickelodeon. I was a Nicktoon fanatic to the point that you could say that it was my religion. Everything from Hey Arnold to Rugrats, I fondly remembered all of the episodes even to this very day. That was how much cartoons shaped my childhood. To me, the last good show on Nick was Avatar: the Last Airbender, and once that ended, I was slowly turned off by the network. I even had wanted to be a cartoonist so that I could work for Nickelodeon one day. Well, that was until someone (whom I will not name) over at deviantART said that they could do better, and I found out how Nick treated its employees. I mean just look at what the network did to C. H. Greenblatt - creator of the show Harvey Beaks a show that I had neglected to watch.

I hadn't really watched cartoons for years. After graduating from high school, my interest in the genre reignited when I turned my attention over to Cartoon Network. After it had went through a few changes, they released Adventure Time. Now, I watched the show for quite some time, and I grew to love it, though admittedly, it was going down in the most recent of years. And then came Steven Universe. I had kept myself off of the show for a few years, because I felt that it would suck. However, I decided to give it a try one day, and I grew to love it. I loved the characters, the songs, the animation...my only complaint is that its schedule is extremely sketchy. I also began to watch Gravity Falls, only to realize that the show was to end before I could get into it. After the show ended, I began to watch Wander Over Yonder, but it was to be canceled, not because of low ratings, but because the network thought that eighty episodes were enough. The current show I'm watching on Disney XD is Star vs. the Forces of Evil, which is actually pretty good.

Unfortunately, I could not say the same for Nickelodeon. My childhood television network was going down in quality as it was made more evident that the executives conducting the station valued quantity over quality. Several of their past cartoons were crappy, even though they would make a huge deal about them by promoting them. However, if a show didn't turn out to be a smash hit, the studio would immediately forget it, and condemn it to Nicktoons Network, which is practically a death sentence for any cartoon. My heart was broken into millions of pieces at seeing the condition of the network, so I decided to swear myself off of any of its shows for good. That is, until I saw the promotions for the Loud House. I didn't watch the show then, because it seemed to be another bomb that Nick would desperately try to remove posthaste. Sometime after seeing the announcements, one of my watchers requested for me to draw some characters from the series. Since I had no idea who any of those characters were, I went to good ol' Google for reference. I was fascinated by their designs. They seemed simple, yes, but I also admired the comic strip style animation. Whilst browsing through the channels to see what to watch, I came upon the Loud House yet again. Seeing as their wasn't anything else good to watch anyway, I thought, what the hey, let's give this a watch. Sure enough, it was "The Butterfly Effect." You know, that episode where Lincoln accidentally wrecks Lisa's experiment causing all hell to break loose? Well, that was my introduction to the show. To be perfectly honest, I actually really enjoyed the episode in question. Yes, I know that this episode is divisive to other fans of the show, but I hold this episode close to my heart. If the episode was trying to reel me in to check out more of the series, I can gladly say that it succeeded with flying colors.

I immediately fell in love with all of the characters. I could actually see myself relating to Lincoln in a few ways. Much like Lincoln, sometimes I feel like a burden, and that there isn't anything special about me. I tried to be an artist only to be told that I was mediocre, I tried to be a writer, but hardly anyone reads what I write. This was the problem that I have had on my deviantART account. I do draw quite often, though I won't say what type of drawings I do. Needless to say, many people began to watch me, because I appealed to their urges. However, I didn't want to be known as the guy who did that type of work, so I began to review episodes from the series to garner their interests. Unfortunately, they didn't express my affection for the show; some even stopped watching me because I no longer did what they wanted. Just recently, I asked that deviant who dissed my art those years ago on whether I improved. He told me that I slightly did. I shouldn't have cared about his opinion, but I did. I wanted to prove that I was a competent artist, only to be told that for all of my efforts, I made slight improvement. I even did drawings for the jerk, and he never thanked me for any of it. Because of all this, I felt that I was a failure at everything I did, because no matter what I did, I knew that there was always someone better. As such, I actually did feel sympathetic towards Lincoln's plight in "Making the Case," though I did not approve of him secretly video taping his sisters. I also loved the show, because truth be told, I am an only child. I always wanted a younger sibling because I always felt mighty lonely. However, I do have baby cousins that look up to me as though I were their big brother, so that's a plus.

I can go on and on about how whenever I'm feeling down, the show almost always manages to lift my spirits. I seriously get giddy every time that upbeat theme song plays. However, I am not going to do that. While I enjoy the show, there are some glaring problems that I have with the series. Well, not glaring as that would suggest that it ruins the show for me. I meant it more as there is some room for improvement. Without further ado, here's what I want to see from the Loud House.

What I Want to See from LH

No More Lincoln Torture Episodes: This goes without saying. Basically, this is the equivalent to the infamous Squidward torture episodes. Normally, Lincoln ends up getting the short end of the stick, but there are some episodes that take this too far. I know that I may be in the minority, but I actually kind of liked "Girl Guru" and the "Longest Yard." (guns are pulled) OK, before you shoot, I'd like to explain why I do. Both episodes had Lincoln be in the wrong, thereby the punishment he receives in the end was justified. Many forget that in "The Loudest Yard," Lincoln was a lazy bum who took advantage of Lynn so that he wouldn't be made to play foot ball. Granted, Lynn didn't mind, but still. And in "Girl Guru," Lincoln gave terrible advice on how to get girls, so again, he set himself up for a fall. These two episodes I have no problem with. But then there's episodes like "Sounds of Silence" in which his sisters make up stories about Lola, and what was Lincoln's crime? He was wanting some peace and quiet so that he could read his comic books. That's it. I mean I understand that you shouldn't ignore family, but everyone wants some quiet now and again. They also make Lincoln do demeaning stuff just so he could be on Lola's good side. While that was bad, "Garbage House" was even worse: for one, Lincoln is never made aware of the "sister protocol." I don't get that; Lincoln is a member of the family, and yet he doesn't know anything about it? Even Bobby knows about the protocol, so why is Lincoln the only one in the dark? Lincoln is prohibited from going into the kitchen to get a snack, he couldn't even watch television (he also gets pummeled in his attempt of getting the remote), and the bathroom is off limits. The episode wants you to see Lincoln as a villain for trying to get involved, but he clearly was not in the wrong in this episode. They even make him idiotic as he was incapable of solving their problem when in countless episodes, Lincoln was the first one to come up with a solution. He was even kicked out of his own room for little to no reason, and he is cruelly told by his sisters that they solved their problem the moment he left. This episode made me lose any respect I had for them as they fought over meaningless things. As to keep my sanity together, I'll leave it at that. Overall, I want the series to stop punishing Lincoln if he didn't do anything to deserve the repercussion. It's not funny, it is irritating, and it only makes me feel more sorry for Linc.

More Character Development: Now, don't get me wrong, I love all of the characters. Nearly all of them have interesting personalities, and they are genuinely entertaining. However, what's more to say about them? Take Luan, for example. She's the comedian, yes, but is there anything else to her? What about Lucy? The characters suffer from the fact that they're one-dimensional. They have unique personalities, yes, but their character shouldn't be defined by just that. This is where the premise of the show is the problem. Eleven siblings having to share one house is promising in theory, but the Loud House suffers from the fact that it boasts a large cast of characters. Because of this, they really don't have time to develop the characters, or add more depth to their character traits. Well, in "For Bros About to Rock," it does actually give some insight into Luna's love for music, but that's besides the point. A character should be defined by their depth, not just their traits.

Stop Rehashing Plots and Morals: Another problem I noticed with the show. In my previous blog, I mentioned how while I loved "Back in Black," its moral was "always be yourself." While this is an important lesson to learn, they had already used that lesson in "Toads and Tiaras" in which Lincoln tried to change Lana into something that she was not only to realize how wrong he was. This is the same idea that "BIB" has going for it; Lucy tries to change herself to win this boy's affection, when he really liked her for herself. Additionally, the episode's ending was predictable. Heck, I would've bet a huge sum of money if I was proven wrong. Or then there's the episodes where a sibling pretends to be the other. Wow, how original! This is my main fear for the show. The show is a fresh start for Nickelodeon, but whenever they recycle episodes or use the same obvious moral, it just screams that they're running out of ideas.

Give Minor Characters More Respect: Normally, we have episodes centered around Lincoln or one of his sisters. We've seen several episodes from their perspective is where I'm getting at. Once again, I do love all the characters, but I feel that more attention should be given to relatively minor characters. For instance, remember that episode in which Luna, Luan, and Lucy set Lincoln up on dates for the dance? I was actually intrigued with each of the girls, so much so, that I wanted to see more out of them. Or how about Maggie, the emo girl who was introduced in "Funny Business?" Despite appearing once, she's had several fan art dedicated to her. Heck, some fans even ship her with Luan even though I scarcely remember them sharing a line of dialogue with each other. Well, I guess this is one of those instances of the internet being itself. Besides her there was Haiku. I personally found her interactions with Clyde cute, especially when they bond over the fact that they both had unattainable love interests. In fact, why doesn't Clyde just drop Lori altogether and start a relationship with her? Start working on that fanfic, people! In all seriousness, I found myself liking the minor characters, and I wish that the show would do more with them.

Stop With the Running Gags: To me, some running gags work, some do not. Clyde nosebleeding and fainting in Lori's presence is funny at first, but over time it got old. I mean, really, sometimes I wish that the show had a crossover with Gravity Falls only so Dipper can talk to Clyde about giving up on Lori. Also, maybe cut back on the toilet humor surrounding Lily.

More Ronnie Anne: Once again I may be in the minority, but I actually like Ronnie Anne. Well, at the very least, I like her post-Heavy Meddle. I like how the show doesn't treat it as a big deal that she's in a relationship with Lincoln, and I also found myself liking their interactions with each other. As such, I would like to see more out of her.

If there is ever a sequel to "April Fools Rules," make it to where Luan gets punished, or is forced to dial back her pranks: I actually don't hate Luan. She's not my favorite of the Loud sisters, but she isn't my most disliked either. The only real time I was annoyed by her puns was in "Suite and Sour," but they normally get a chuckle out of me because of how bad they were. "April Fools Rules" is a divisive episode as it portrays Luan as a psychopath who has no regards for her family when April Fools Day comes a'knockin. While I didn't hate the episode myself, even I was horrified by how far Luan would go for a cheap laugh. Her pranks are well-thought out and crafted that even the Joker would be impressed. However, she never once thinks to tone down her pranks, and doesn't express any remorse if any of her family members got seriously hurt or maimed because of her pranks. She is also a total karma Houdini. Yeah, Ronnie Anne pelts her with a pie, but that's like giving a criminal a smack on the wrist and telling him to not do it again. Seriously, that was no punishment in all of the senses of the word. She costs her family possibly hundreds of dollars in damage, she is never held accountable for going too far, she never feels guilty for what she had done, etc. By all means, I can see why several LH fans hate her. Suppose that a sequel were to be made to the episode; how I see it, it can go in either two ways. Either Luan is forced to realize how destructive her pranks are by accidentally injuring one of her siblings, or they band together to take Luan down by beating her at her own game. A user had actually written a fanfic with the latter idea in mind. In it, Lincoln's arm gets mangled when one of Luan's failed pranks causes the refrigerator to fall on his arm. Unlike in the episode that the fanfic was based on, Luan actually feels guilty for harming Lincoln, and she promises to tone her pranks down. I don't want any of the characters to seriously get hurt, don't misinterpret what I'm saying. All I'm saying is that Luan needs to be made aware of how dangerous her pranks can get if she goes too far.

[4colorrebellion]

Review-In-Progress: Yakuza 0

The Yakuza series is always one that has fascinated me, but for some reason, I had never actually sat down and played any of the games. This distinctly Japanese take on Grand Theft Auto has always hovered on the periphery of my awareness as something that I was pretty sure I would enjoy, but until recently, it was just one of those series where each new entry arrived at a bad time.

When SEGA reached out and offered up a copy of their newest entry, Yakuza 0, I was thrilled to finally give the series a fair try. Read on for my impressions of the first three chapters.

I should preface the following with one disclaimer - I have not finished the game. This is a long game. I could easily see sinking 70 or 80 hours into it. Since I have a full time job, I haven’t had time to finish this off in the two weeks that I’ve been playing it. Right now, I am fifteen hours into the game, and in the third chapter (out of 10). With the game coming out in a few days, I thought that I should share my impressions for those of you thinking about picking it up.

The newest game, Yakuza 0, is a prequel to the five mainline entries in the series. Set in the late 1980s, the story follows two characters - Kiryu Kazama and Majima Goro - who have, for various reasons, found themselves drawn into a power struggle over a vacant lot in Tokyo. The story swaps back and forth between Kiryu - who has been framed for murder and ousted from the Yakuza - and Majima - who has been exiled to Osaka for his role in an earlier assassination.

The story of Yakuza 0 is not exactly going to win any literature awards, but like a great action movie, it really sucks you in. Every bit of the writing in Yakuza, from the central plot to the dialogue, is played completely straight. Yet, at the same time, there is this surreal insanity to it. The story is over-the-top - hell, every interaction is kind of over-the-top - and you just have to smile at the madcap machismo of it all. 

Whether it is Kiryu - on his knees in the rain, imploring his adoptive father to induct him into the Yakuza - or Majima - dodging punches from a drunken cabaret patron while playing the role of the doting, obedient waiter - I love every melodramatic exploit that these characters get into. They’re these ridiculous tough guys, and I really want them to succeed. I want to be them. Hell, I’d settle for being half as cool as them.  

Where the writing really shines is in the side stories. Yakuza 0 has two different cities that you can explore - the Kamurocho neighborhood of Tokyo and the Sotenbori neighborhood of Osaka. As you wander around these two cities, you end up stumbling into the lives of the locals. Sometimes, this is indirect - you overhear a rumor about an event going on in another part of town, and can wander over to check it out. Sometimes this is quite direct - somebody sees you as their knight in shining armor. These quick optional quests offer welcome breaks from the central storyline, and do a great job of drawing you into the world of the game. 

To give an example, as I walked by a restaurant, a TV crew begged me to stand in for their missing producer. The producer had quit after getting tired of the endless demands from the hard-assed director. As Kiryu, I had to pretend to know my stuff long enough for filming to complete. In the end, the show went off without a hitch - until the previous producer and his buddies showed up to beat the tar out of the director. Fortunately for him, they picked a fight with the wrong mobster. In the end, the sobbing director confessed that he just wanted the entire crew to understand his passion

Insane, right? Also, completely awesome. The side stories even build on each other over time. My friendship with the director ended up leading to a job protecting the “Prince of Pop” from.. Well, you’ve probably seen the video. 

The characters you meet in these stories, and the interactions you have with them, really make these cities come to life. You can even befriend a number of characters, and learn their stories as you stop and interact with them. 

Speaking of characters. If this scene does not convince you to play this game, nothing will.

The art direction also does a great job of bringing these cities to life. Although Yakuza 0 is not going to blow anybody away on a technical level - it was released in Japan on both the PS3 and PS4 - the sheer attention to detail that has gone into every nook and cranny leaves a great impression. The streets of Kamurocho are dense with detail - loaded with endless neon signs, pay phones, and storefronts. Just like any Japanese city, the streets of Kamurocho and Sotenbori are densely packed with people, businesses, and twisty back alleys to get lost in. You are almost hit with sensory overload, and it is all a great feast for the eyes. 

To really see what I mean, just enter one of the many convenience stores dotting Kamurocho. I have never seen instant noodles rendered so lovingly in my life, and I cannot think of another game where I can enter a store and see such a variety of items at once, at such a level of fidelity. It’s fun to enter buildings just for the “virtual Japan” experience. 

That attention to detail extends to the open-world gameplay. The sheer number of things you can do in the game is staggering. You can go to bars and play darts or pool, you can go bowling, you can hang out in Mahjong parlors. There are two entirely different rhythm games - representing karaoke and disco dancing. You can go to SEGA-branded arcades and play actual arcade games, such as Outrun, or collect stuffed animals from the crane machine. The list of minigames goes on and on, and you could easily put hours into them. 

There are even alternate modes on many of the games. For example, you can either play a standard game of billiards, or you can play “Puzzle Pool”, where you are presented with particular arrangements of balls and tasked with sinking the target in one shot. 

Many of these minigames are quite good. I’ve enjoyed bowling, pool, and darts the most so far. Actually, darts is another case where the attention to detail is fascinating. You go to a bar to play, and other patrons will come and challenge you to a match. If you win, they usually want a rematch - with a round of drinks in between. Yakuza 0 actually models drunkenness in the darts minigame! The more you drink, the more your vision blurs and your aim is affected. Again, I just can’t stop marveling at the endless little details that the developers have packed into this game.

If those weren’t enough, you can also build up business and real estate empires on the side. I haven’t delved into business management just yet, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be just as addictive as the other minigames. 

Of course, the minigames aren’t the main focus of your adventure - those are the battles. At its heart, Yakuza 0 is a kung-fu crime flick, and you’ll spend a lot of time beating the hell out of an endless procession of goons, punks, and other ne’er-do-wells. At story-mandated points, or as you wander the cities, you’ll be ambushed by a bunch of guys and have to defeat them to move on - almost like a JRPG, but with more punching and fewer menus. The basic fighting system is relatively simple. You have a light attack, a heavy attack, and a grapple. You can also block moves. From these basic building blocks, you string together combos. You can also use objects in your environment as make-shift weapons, or equip more deadly weapons that you buy from merchants. All weapons have limited durability, so you have to manage their use carefully. 

As you chain together attacks, your heat gauge builds up. Once it reaches a high enough level, you can unleash brutal attacks. When I say brutal, I mean it. You smash faces into walls, stomp on heads, and break limbs with abandon. None of this is shockingly brutal - it all fits into the over-the-top aesthetic - but it can still make you cringe. 

Each character has three distinct fighting styles. Kiryu’s default is the “brawler” style - a balance between speed and brutality. He also has a “rush” style, based on boxing, that favors mobility and dodges. Finally, his “beast” style is slow, but devastatingly powerful. Majima’s default is the “thug” style, which acts as a balance between his “slugger” style - a weapon-heavy stance - and his “breaker” style - a speed-based style that makes use of dance moves.

You can switch between styles freely, and all of these styles have their place. If you are surrounded by enemies with weapons, the faster styles will allow you to avoid being hit. The heavier styles are needed to bring down the big guys. So far, I spend most of my time in the default balanced styles, but break into the others in special situations. The brawler style, in particular, just feels satisfying to use. 

Defeating enemies and playing minigames both earn you cash. This can, of course, be spent on items such as food or clothing. More importantly, cash can be spent on your moves. Each fighting style has a number of upgrades that you can purchase, arranged in a series of rings. The cost to upgrade increases dramatically between rings. For instance, abilities in the first ring cost 400,000 yen to purchase. Abilities in the second ring cost 2,000,000. Abilities in the third cost 30,000,000. The prices just keep increasing from there. If you want to master each fighting style, you are going to need a whole lot of dough.

After fifteen hours, I am hooked. I feel like I have only scratched the surface of what Yakuza 0 has to offer, but I can’t wait to get back in there and keep digging. If, like me, you’re curious about the series, Yakuza 0 feels like the perfect point to jump in. As a prequel, you do not need to know a thing about the characters or storyline to appreciate what the developers have crafted. Going in, I suspected that I would like these games - I just didn’t know that I would like Yakuza this much.

Yakuza 0 launches in North America on January 24th, for the PS4.