#i spent 6 hours on this colored sketch this is ridiculous

[rtprsd3nt]

my telegram mutual asked me to draw fem eden and who am i to deny such request

[designsfromtime]

Is the Customer Always Right?

If anything, I am guileless when it comes to offering all ya’ll a behind the scenes peek at what a “day in the life” of a historical costumer can offer. Sometimes I worry about coming off as ungrateful when I share a problematic situation, but I believe being honest allows me to embrace my humanity, and gives you all permission to do the same. It looks like fun creating all these gorgeous costumes, and it is! - - but there is an unfortunate ugly side to owning your own business: Dealing with entitled and difficult customers. 

My career has taken many twists and turns over the last two or three decades. Before I retired in 2012 at 52 and began designing costumes full-time, I was a medical transcriptionist. I owned my own transcription service as well as working for a huge opthomalogical practice back in California. As such, I have taken many, many training seminars in customer service. It’s been drilled into my head that for every one person who is dissatisfied they will tell ten more people. 

With those statistics in mind, I have endeavored to focus on customer service both in my tenure as a medical transcriptionist, as well as today in my costuming business. But the fact of the matter is that not every client will be a good fit for your particular business or your personality, but I do feel somehow I have failed  clients even when they become overly demanding and, dare I say, self-centered, and I have to cut them loose. 

Look, I get it! Plunking down 2K for an entire ensemble is a HUGE investment for any client! I don’t take any of my clients for granted - ever.  I endeavor to give each client equally of my time and attention. As a general rule, I am extremely conscientious about responding quickly to messages and inquiries. I go to great lengths to explain my process and educate about cut, textiles, and construction of historical clothing and lay out what they can expect, even though I find myself repeating the same spiel over and over. 

I’ve mentioned this several times before, but I have heard the horror stories from both clients and cast mates: costumers (even those touted as scions in the costuming forums) taking a client’s money and receiving their fabrics, only to ghost on them and not respond when the client tries to get them to honor the commission and actually MAKE the gown they paid for, or they do not respond to the client’s requests when asked to refund the money AND return their fabrics only to find this same “costumer” has not only ignored them but used THEIR fabrics for a gown which they put up for sale on Ebay. Another nightmare story is about some of the vendors on Etsy who promise to ship a gown by a certain due date, take the client’s money and when that date comes and goes and the client contacts them they LIE and say, “It’s in the mail!” - Only to learn that they haven’t even finished it! Worse, when the gown arrives it started falling apart the first weekend they wore it at faire and she paid $600 for it! Then there is the account of a vendor in the Ukraine who ran out of velvet to finish a client’s Italian gown and rather than waiting and reordering the fabric, they made the gown but SCRIMPED on the fullness of the skirt and shipped it as is without consulting the client. In THOSE situations I would agree that the customer is RIGHT. I haven’t found myself in the same situations as these “costumers” because I would NEVER treat a client with such disregard - but I have found myself in a nightmare scenario more than once that involves the client becoming difficult for no justifiable reason.

I’ve been fortunate that in the seven years since opening my studio here in WA I have only had FIVE clients who made me want to pound my fist against my computer screen and question why I am in this business. Yes, they were that frustrating!  One of those instances I wrote about in a post called “When It All Goes South” I’ll spare you the details of the other four, but usually the common denominator has been that they didn’t respect my time and my busy schedule, or the efforts I made in the consultation process. That sounds very benign, but a to relate a situation that happened this week wherein I spent 1.5 months exchanging 70+ detailed and lengthy messages, and provided them with dozens, and dozens and DOZENS of fabric options and they kept asking for more, and more, hoping that one of them will fall into the Goldilocks zone, it became frustrating. We hadn’t even gotten half way through the consult process because the client was stalled on fabrics. I didn’t mention the fact that after she paid her deposit she changed the style of the gown multiple times. *face palm*

You may be reading this and shrugging your shoulders and asking “What’s the problem?” The problem in the case I just described is that choosing fabric is only the FIRST step in the design process, but also I have deadlines imposed by the clients. If they don’t comply I can’t meet those deadlines. Until a client chooses their main fabric I cannot begin to offer any ideas for the overall design aesthetic, nor can I choose a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, not to mention the embroidery pattern to be used, or sussing out whether or not they will need a trim that may take up to 4 or 5 months to ship - such as the case of a gold bouillon trim I ordered from India recently which she stated she was interested in using, not to mention it requires 4 to 6 weeks of hand tacking!  The expectation of this client was that I would be an endless fountain of “options” - and because she was investing 2K I should spend as much time as she wanted footering around window shopping for fabrics while her timeline is ticking away. When after a month and a half I began to draw a boundary and tell her I need a decision if she expects me to meet her deadline because there is a ton more work I need to do on her consult, she felt I wasn’t giving her ENOUGH of my time and stated that because I was pressed on time for current engagements I could not offer any additional efforts to her as a client.  This, after spending MORE time than is usual with this client, I am to blame?  

I learned from an extremely difficult client in 2018 not to allow a bad situation to malinger and hope for the best. In that particular case it went from BAD to WORSE, and I had to dig in my heels and refuse to bend to her ever growing ridiculous demands. If I cannot work with a client in the consult phase, and I’m pretty damn patient ya’ll, then I have learned the actual construction process will only unravel further. 

As a side note, normally by the time I’ve exchanged two dozen messages with a client, I have their fabric sorted, and I’ve sourced a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, found their trim and/or the embroidery pattern, sketched their gown, and presented them with a design board.  Sooooo. . . I offered this particular woman a refund on her “non-refundable” deposit minus my consultation fee of $100 for the hours and hours and HOURS of research I spent over that 1.5 months offering her more and more options to consider. She was pissed that I was unwilling to allow her to take months to decide, and no amount of “explaining” the urgency or my time constraints seemed to sink in. No matter what I said she is convinced that “I” was the problem. 

So, is that situation a failure on my part? Should I be willing to set aside another client’s commission to cater to this woman’s demands? What’s more, is the customer ALWAYS right? 

There is an oft-quoted catchphrase in the business world that states: “the customer is always right.” I’ve heard that in many training seminars. Lalana showed me  comic wherein it stated “The Costumer is always right.” I laughed, but there is a prevalent attitude that WE must meet the customers’ needs even if it means we often go to ridiculous extents to please them. However, treating customers like they are always right can be self-destructive for entrepreneurs like myself and here’s why.

In an article by “Entrepreneur” they offer FIVE reasons why the customer is NOT always right and why: 

1. Businesses Have Limited Resources

Entrepreneurs like myself are not omnipotent, neither are employees - or in my case, my assistant Lalana. Most businesses, especially the fledgling ones, operate with limited resources including limited time, funds, and energy. Every business experiences its share of grudging customers, who, no matter what might be done to satisfy their needs, will continue to complain.

Feeling guilty and culpable for such petulance is actually unwise and it affects your business in a negative way. If the necessary steps have been taken to address the issues of a customer, then a business owner should close the matter and move on.

'Businesses are not dependent on individual buyers. It is actually immature to spend all the energy to satisfy someone who does not intend to be happy. It is important to address the requirements of hundreds and thousands of other regular clients, and also show solidarity with the employees,”

2. It Adds Misery to Employees

Any business will invariably have its share of malicious, rude, snappy consumers. Amongst 50 customers there will at least be 5 who will end up rubbing you the wrong way. Now, reacting to such folk with appeasement and guilt is utter naivete! 

Making employees believe that the customer is always right, is tantamount to making them feel dejected. Between supporting your employees and taking sides with an intolerable, enraged customer, it is best to choose the former (the employee). Customers must get this message that though they are important they are NOT indispensable, while supporting employees always pays extra dividends.

"With constant support from the owners comes a sense of loyalty amongst the employees who then provide better service to customers. It's axiomatic that happy employees always go an extra mile to make customers happy." 

3. Customers Are Not Omniscient

The creator of a business and the team that works with him know best about the product or service they offer. But customers are often upset because the products don't function the way they want them to - or in the case of my costuming business, they may have expectations around how much time I am able to spend in a consultation, or that through no fault of our own we cannot accommodate their specific vision they have of a particular gown. In the recent experience, the client kept asking for color combinations that are not available in the fabrics she insisted upon. All I can do is offer an alternative and try to compromise by offering options. But the attitude that a client knows best leads to an expectation that I be willing to go to any extent when they demand unrealistic or even ludicrous things.

Often customers will try to establish that they know better and try to share opinions or advice on how a product should look or work. Irrespective of the sector of the business, it is risky to give customers the liberty to think they cannot be wrong. 

The key is to establish with customers, in a very amicable way, that the maker of the product is the final authority - In my case that would be ME. I go to great lengths to educate customers on my products and service in order to help them understand my expertise or why I use a certain procedure. I won’t take on a project that I am not passionate about, but more especially when my knowledge is discounted and they wish me to create something that doesn’t fit into my design aesthetic I will decline the order because there needs to be a state of sympatico between designer and customer. 

4. It Pits Management Against Employees

The message that the customer is always right, is demoralizing, and results in bitterness against management and indicates that the organization favours the customers more than the workforce. In reality, taking  the side of the employees generates happier customers because your employee, or yourself, will have a more positive attitude. 

5. You Don't Want Every Customer

Not all customers are indispensable and businesses must accept that. It is better to let go of a persistently complaining and abusive customer who only end up creating stress amongst the employees (or myself). This is irrespective of the amount the customer pays for your product.

Disgruntled customers can wear away your spirit, involve a very high quantity of resources, and add to your stress levels. It is sometimes sensible to lose a customer for protecting the company and its workforce.

"To stay in business for a long time, entrepreneurs need to avoid unreasonably disgruntled customers. Getting rid of bad customers might cost a little profit, but it's healthier in the long-term goals of the business,"

The full article can be found here: https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/308548

While these “talking points” are focused on the Management versus Employee relationships, they are valid across the board for a small business owner whether or not you have employees. All of the angst and frustration and demoralization felt by employees or managers who are forced to capitulate to an over-demanding or self-centered and entitled customer is just as keenly felt by me (the owner). It puts me in a grumpy negative head space and it effects my attitude in the studio, which in turn affects Lalana who has to put up with my grumpy ass, and wears down my energy to the extent it affects my usual generosity to the rest of my clients. 2K in commissions just isn’t worth the hassle!   

So, while I’m still working through the guilt and the regret of having to cut loose a client as I did this week, I’m learning that my work will speak for itself, and for every ONE client I have a negative experience, I have MORE who actually appreciate me and are reasonable enough to understand I have deadlines and they are 50% responsible for the success of their commission. I may not be in a place of full acceptance that I could not have made this particular client happy, but I feel justified in drawing a boundary that just because a client spends 2K in my store, it does not give them permission to behave like an entitled premadonna. 

[damienthepious]

okay so this went up at 11:51pm on ao3 but tumblr formatting is a nightmare so uh. happy LKT to timezones that are are still in Tuesday Time? whatever, I made it, somehow. it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 15)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [ao3] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: The humans take a very truncated tour.

Chapter Notes: BOY I'M CUTTIN IT CLOSE THIS WEEK. WORLD GOT ME DOWN, SORRY FAM. I'm RUSHING through to post please forgive any formatting weirdness or typos and also forgive the fact that this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few have been. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

~

The Keep releases the humans, and it settles Arum back on his feet as well, warbling a song that blends confusion and warmth and a number of other feelings that bleed through their link, almost overwhelming after Arum has spent so long with only his own emotions to process.

Damien rubs his wrists with a strange, unreadable look on his face, but Amaryllis is still holding one of the vines, gently pulling it close enough to examine, her eyes wide. Neither reaction sets Arum at ease, but he supposes that this was not the warmest of welcomes for them, all things considered.

He-

Arum does not know what to do, now that he is home, and they are here with him.

“So,” Amaryllis says, releasing the vine as he draws closer to them. “This is your… Keep?”

“I… it… yes, yes, this is the Keep,” he says, and the moss is soft and familiar between his clawed toes. “My Keep is… I told you we are meant to protect each other. It thought- it did not know you were not a threat, and it has not seen- it has been without-”

“You’ve been away for a long time,” she says gently, and Arum hates the way his heart lurches for her easy words. “Must be nice to be home.”

“I imagine that is quite the understatement,” Damien says softly, though he is not looking at either of them, and Arum laughs, very lightly.

“Indeed. Keep, I-”

He feels the Keep observing, feels the way it is parsing his own emotions and the way it is observing the humans as well, and it is somewhat like seeing the pair of them again, for the first time. It is distracting, though not unpleasant.

The Keep sings, and Arum watches the way that Amaryllis’ eyes light up with curiosity.

“So, I get that it’s alive, but- you can talk to it?”

It hums around them, answering for itself, and Arum can’t help his smile.

“We speak, yes.”

Amaryllis opens her mouth, clearly to ask another question, to continue to chase this new mystery, but she pauses. Her eyes narrow, and then she tilts her head.

“You- huh. You’re standing more easily. Are you- hang on.” She reaches a hand towards him and Arum tilts his head, and when her fingers brush the edge of his frill he clenches his teeth together to keep from making some noise at the contact. “That looks- the tissue is- is the Keep healing you?” she asks, sounding both impressed and a little- irritated, perhaps?

“What?” Damien says, finally looking towards them again, and Arum stiffens at their combined scrutiny, standing a little straighter. “What do you- oh.”

“Oh?” Arum echoes.

“You look- Rilla, have his scales taken on- more color?”

“I think so, actually. Arum-”

“I told you,” he growls. “Our connection is difficult to explain.”

“But it’s healing you. You’re already better than you were a few minutes ago.”

“Of course I am. We- we help each other. We protect each other.”

Rilla, strangely, looks furious now. “If you told me it could make you better in minutes , we would have tried to bring you home a hell of a lot faster, Arum!”

“It- it is not instantaneous, and it did not seem like something you would believe, Amaryllis.”

“Maybe not at first, Arum, but you’ve been healing like a damned glacier and you could have been better so much faster if you just told me-”

Arum finds that he is smiling. He is reminded with a pang that he will miss this, miss her arguments and her fire, miss the soft tension of passing time with Sir Damien as well, and the smile abruptly flickers off. He swallows, looking away.

“I apologize, then,” he says, and Rilla’s argument comes to a halt. “Believe that if there was any way I thought I could have come back to my Keep any faster, I certainly would have.”

She opens her mouth, then sighs and smiles wryly.

“I suppose this accounts for the escape attempts, then,” Damien murmurs, and Arum chokes on a laugh.

“Quite. Not, I now admit, that I could possibly have gotten here on my own in that state.”

“Stubborn,” Rilla mutters, and when Damien raises a pointed eyebrow at her she scowls harder.

Damien tilts his head away, burying his smile before he laughs at her irritation, and then he meets Arum’s eyes. He looks- wary, still.

“So… we have delivered you back to where you belong,” he says, tone deceptively light. He pauses for a moment, but neither Arum nor Amaryllis interrupt him. It is too clear that his thought is unfinished. “What… what happens now, Lord Arum?”

Arum’s body tenses, his stance going entirely stiff. He glances towards Amaryllis, who appears precisely as unsure about the question as Arum feels. What happens now, as if Arum had ever truly expected to return home, as if he had planned for this. He had not expected, in his heart, to ever return to the Keep, let alone to do so with these strange, strange humans in tow. Or- with them towing him.

"I…" Arum swallows, feels his tail curling anxiously, and the Keep drifts vines out to touch his shoulders, to steady him. "I suppose… I am- certain that the both of you must be… eager to return home, as well," he murmurs, turning his face away. "But- but it is… late in the day, now. It would make little sense for you to set out again without rest, only to make camp in an hour or so." He pauses for a moment, still not looking at them as he flicks his tongue, and he can practically taste tension hanging in the air, theirs and his own. "I would… it would be wisest for the both of you to stay the night. If you will."

"You… you wouldn't mind letting us stay?" Amaryllis asks quietly, and Arum scoffs.

"I have been imposing on your hospitality for so long a time now that I've entirely lost track, Amaryllis," he growls. "One night at the very least will not make the slightest impact on my own." He pauses. "If you can stand to sleep within a monster structure, of course."

"Your… your Keep will not mind our presence, either?"

This next question from Damien, and Arum glances their way again, raising an eyebrow as the Keep sings its answer, decisively closing the portal behind them at last. Arum notes with no small measure of surprise that neither of the humans appear unsettled, that their escape route has vanished.

"Its sense of hospitality is far more developed than my own," he mutters. "I doubt very much it could be convinced to allow you to leave without at least providing you a meal."

Amaryllis smiles. "Does the Keep cook, then, or do I finally get to see your theoretical culinary skills?"

Arum shoots the doctor a glare, puffing up his chest as he growls. "I assure you, Amaryllis, that you will see that my culinary skills are completely and entirely," he pauses, "adequate."

Amaryllis blinks, and then bursts into laughter, her entire body jolting with it as she leans against Damien, who is pursing his lips together tight, his eyes sparkling with his own barely suppressed mirth.

Arum is glad that they are too caught in the amusement to look at him, for only a few moments. He does not like to think what they will see on his face, if they look at him right now. Their joy, bubbling bright within his home-

It is overwhelming.

"Keep," he says before they've entirely recovered, looking away. "Open the way, if you would."

Amaryllis stops laughing as the doorway opens again, the noises of chiming and insects and life drifting lazily through the passage, and her eyes light with curiosity, as Arum had hoped they would.

"It seems… appropriate, that I should show you my home, as you showed me yours, does it not?"

"A tour?" she says, raising an eyebrow, and Arum snorts. "Sure, sounds fun, actually."

"What… what is through there?" Sir Damien asks, his own curiosity mitigated rather obviously by his nerves.

"The room I believe Amaryllis will take the greatest interest in," he says with a shrug. "I did not think the impatient creature should like to wait."

"Okay, fair," Rilla says with a grin. "But now you have to tell me."

Arum barely manages to suppress another laugh. "Come, then, you ridiculous creature. Let me show you my greenhouse."

~

There's just so much, is the thing. So much life, so many plants and fungi that Rilla has either needed to pay out the nose for, scrabble tooth and nail to find on her own, has only seen in sketches, or didn't even believe existed at all, before. It's like a dream, honestly. If Arum hadn't already told her about the Hermit (a bittersweet sting, that memory- she can't help but be disappointed that the flower was destroyed, but the fact that he trusted her enough to tell her is- interesting evidence), she would have it in the back of her mind anyway, half expecting it to be hidden here, among so many other impossible specimens.

The space is enormous- the Keep itself must be huge, the size of a town, maybe, and it would probably take her weeks to see everything that Arum has in his collection.

Longer, actually, because his collection is exactly as organized as the swamp outside. She's beginning to see where he was coming from, exactly, with his complaints about her own organizational systems.

"So that's the pond you were talking about, for keeping the Jungle Flame from causing trouble?"

Arum and Damien have been drifting behind her, Arum tapping a surprising degree of patience as she bolts from wonder to wonder, and now he nods, his lip turning wryly.

"I may still, despite the strategy you shared. One cannot be too cautious with fire, within a structure such as this."

"No, that makes sense," she says, tilting her head at the pond, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "And the Keep can just- grow an island, there?"

"The Keep is the entirety of this place. It shifts and changes as it is needed."

"That… sounds really cool, actually. Huh."

There is so much, so much to see, to investigate. She could get lost in here, metaphorically speaking. She could just keep finding more and more fascinating things to ask Arum about, more answers to questions she's had penned into the margins of countless journals.

And it's good, she thinks, to have something here to focus on, besides Arum himself. He's so vibrant, now. She didn't realize, all this time, how washed out his injuries had made him, how much he had been muted by pain and recovery. Here, with the Keep performing whatever magic it needs to help him stand easy again, he gleams as glossy as the plants he keeps, he practically thrums with relief and joy, and Rilla-

Rilla's throat hurts, just a bit, because she knows that she won't have any excuse not to leave, when morning comes.

She sinks to kneel, feeling the soft dirt and moss beneath her knees, cool and real and distracting, and she pulls out her recorder.

One more little mystery. Just one more little problem to solve, before she admits to herself that she still doesn't have an answer to the problems that really matter.

~

Amaryllis is deeply, deeply engrossed with her recorder beside a pair of symbiotically growing plants when Arum realizes that Sir Damien is staring at him, now, instead of at the doctor.

"I apologize, honeysuckle," he says, raising his eyebrow.

Damien blinks. "Apologize? For- for what, precisely?"

"This has been a rather single-minded tour, as Amaryllis put it. We have indulged her curiosities, but I cannot imagine that you share the depth of her interest in my collection of flora."

"Ah," he says, his lip pulling into a surprised smile. "Perhaps not, but- you need not apologize." He turns his gaze towards Amaryllis, then, his smile going gentle. "Her delight is precisely as my own. And besides, it is not as if I expected that we should arrive to your home and you would entertain me, Lord Arum. I did not expect serenades."

Arum chokes a laugh, his tail curling behind him, and-

A thought.

"Not… not serenades, of course," Arum murmurs, and Damien's attention flicks back towards him, curious. "But- perhaps there is something that may interest you." He pauses, and after a moment Damien gestures for him to continue. "I do have a small library. Nothing particularly impressive, and the majority of my volumes will be unreadable to you, but- would you like- rather, I could show you. If you would like."

Damien stares at him for a moment, lips parted, and then he smiles and Arum bites down the rattle that wants to shake in his chest.

"That- yes, that would be- I would be delighted."

"Excellent," Arum says, and then he looks away, his eyes returning helplessly towards Amaryllis for a moment. "Though- she does not seem keen to be pulled away, just yet."

Damien's smile goes soft again, and he shakes his head. "Perhaps not. Just a moment, Arum."

Damien steps closer to his- to Amaryllis, leaning down to murmur something by her ear as she kneels by the flora, and she does not look up from the plant, though Arum sees her mouth move in response, and the focus on her face softens for only a moment when Damien leans the last inch closer to place a kiss at her temple before he straightens and returns to join Arum.

"I told her we would not be long," he explains, and then he makes a rather unnecessarily elegant gesture with his hand.

Rather trusting, Arum thinks, to be so willing to leave Amaryllis alone and unprotected in Arum's Keep. If they meant her harm-

"Right. Right, then." Arum clears his throat. "Keep, the scroll room, if you would?"

Damien watches the vines grow to create the portal with that same mixed trepidation and fascination, but he does not hesitate to step through after Arum, and his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the room.

Amaryllis would call it disorganized, certainly, but such chaos does not trouble Arum. As he said, his library is not impressive by any standards. Literature is not among his more passionate interests, but former Keep-Lords have certainly gathered enough over the Keep's long, long life to amass a decent collection.

"There- oh, so many of these look- positively ancient, Arum," Damien murmurs, lifting a hand but not daring to touch the case of one of the more rare scrolls.

"They are ancient," Arum drawls. "Most of them, anyway. I have added very little to the proceedings, so most of the texts predate my own lifespan. Hence the age. The Keep maintains the air in this space in such a way that it preserves the more delicate parchment. You may examine whatever you like on the shelf on the far wall, however. Those volumes are newer, more sturdy, and if I remember correctly there should be one or two that are written in the human script."

Damien looks bemused for a moment. "You have texts written by humans?"

"Information is information, honeysuckle," Arum says with a shrug, and Damien purses his lips in consideration before he nods, stepping towards the indicated shelf to peruse.

While he is so engrossed, Arum need not force himself to avert his gaze. Damien's focus is… intense. Distracting. It is difficult for Arum, to pull his eyes away. For the moment he does not bother.

"Ah-" Damien laughs very lightly. "It seems you already had a primer in human poetry before we met, Lord Arum," Damien says, running his fingers lightly across the spine of a book and slipping it from the shelf. "I know this poet. She wrote of the Saints, primarily."

Arum clenches his teeth, feeling his frill flutter. "There is little coherency to the collection, little songbird. I could not possibly say how such a work made its way into my hands." He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at the book as Damien opens it and flips through. "I remember that one, yes." He sneers. "I should apologize, I think, that I cannot provide you more stimulating material to peruse."

"What?" Damien lifts his head. "What do you- mean?"

Arum shrugs, a little aggressively. "I am aware that my collection is limited, honeysuckle. I may have a collection of poetry or two, but I do not possess any volumes of the quality that our doctor shared with me."

"The- the quality?"

"The tome you are holding is rather dry by comparison, I should say," he inhales, hisses a breath, looks away, mutters, "it does not compare. It will not stick in your mind like … like…" he trails off, and- well. The words come almost too easily. "The paper of the lantern will not rise without the flame," he breathes, pretending not to feel his frill rising higher at his neck, "And so ascended I, alight and burning when you came." Arum pauses a long moment, then, feeling the odd way those words curl on his tongue, the way they make him feel, the sympathetic heat they kindle behind the cage of his ribs, and then he exhales again. "Yes. I do not think I shall forget those words, as I have forgotten so many of the dusty poems I have been storing here."

He pauses again, and Sir Damien does not speak. Arum notices, then, that the knight's heart is beating rather quickly, and when he looks to Damien again he presses the book tight against his chest, his lips parting in clear surprise.

"What?" Arum grumbles, thrown by the sudden intensity in Damien's expression, by the heavy tension he can taste on the air. "What, honeysuckle? I have already admitted that your species is… somewhat skilled, in such arts. I will not say so again."

"N-no, I- it is simply that- I- well, you- you read- you read-" he stammers off, losing words entirely for a long moment.

"I read nearly everything Amaryllis provided me in that little basket of hers. Why? What does it matter?" He projects a sneer. "Again, I already told you. Human poetry is not- it is not entirely disagreeable."

"But you read- you read my poe-"

Arum blinks, and stares down at Damien as the poet swallows his words, and Arum's stomach drops in something like panic.

"Those- that- those were… your words?"

"I, ah- yes, I-"

"She stuck them in the basket with the rest," Arum barks, tail thrashing. "She did not mention that- that they were- that they were private-"

"Not-" Damien bursts into a breath of uncomfortable laughter, and Arum barely resists an urge to either bolt from the room or- or to sway closer to the human, instead. "They are not private, not precisely, but- that was from a… a collection, verses written for my- for Rilla. Poetry that my flower inspired, with her brilliance and beauty."

Damien's dark cheeks are darker, now, flushed, and he is looking at the shelf of volumes, away from Arum, and Arum-

More words drift back to him. More phrases, warm and fond, enraptured- sensual, at times, and-

It is no wonder, then, that every line of verse on those pages reminded Arum of her. Of the pair of them. It is no wonder at all, that he had not even noticed Amaryllis enter the room as he read, because her presence was in the room before her, in the words themselves.

Unconsumed, enlightened, and by your heat unfurled

Together, hand in hand, we rose, and made more gold the world.

Arum clenches his own hands, his palms tingling. He should have known, that those words were meant for the love between these two humans. He thinks of their hands, intertwined with such ease. He things of the invitation of Amaryllis' palm, and her gentle invocation of we . He thinks of his little songbird, grasping unseeing in the night, how he settled when Arum took his hand in claws.

He feels what Damien penned. He feels himself a paper lantern. Fragile, and untethered, and close to burning.

"I… I should have… I should have known," He murmurs, and Damien glances towards him again. "Should have recognized your voice upon the page, I think."

"They- many were not-" he pauses, bites his lip, and smiles very cautiously. "You… you enjoyed them? Truly?"

Arum breathes a helpless laugh. "You are a beautiful poet, honeysuckle," he says, and when Damien flushes darker he- winces, glancing away. "Rather- I meant, of course, that your poetry is- not that-"

"It is… it is quite alright, Lord Arum," Damien says. "I thank you for the compliment."

Damien tucks the book of less relevant poetry back onto the shelf, his cheeks still dark as he scans his eyes across the various monster scripts, and Arum clenches his hands.

Beautiful, he thinks again, and there is something almost vicious about it.

"If there is nothing else here that interests you, honeysuckle, we should return to the greenhouse," he mutters.

Damien looks towards him, his eyes flicking oddly across Arum's face for a moment before he looks aside. "Yes," he says softly. "I suppose we should do our best to draw Rilla back to us from her newest puzzle."

Back to us.

He did not mean that.

Arum clenches his hands again, pushes the desire down inside of himself, and summons the way back to the greenhouse.

~

Arum leaves them briefly, before dinner, so they can finally change out of their travel clothes and scrub off the dust of the road in the Keep's large, strange washroom, and after Damien lowers a hand to help Rilla lift herself out from the large tub (or, perhaps, small indoor pond) made from one enormous waxy leaf, she keeps hold of his hand, pulling him in close so she can throw her arms around his shoulders.

"R-Rilla-"

"Just-" she squeezes him, pressing her face into his neck and sighing there. "One sec. Need- need something that feels normal and real just for- one second."

"Oh… oh Rilla," he strokes a hand down her braid, holding her in return, feeling her breathe softly against his skin. "You know I will always, always hold you, if you ask." He smiles very gently, a laugh in his tone as he continues, "If we were not required to bother ourselves with such mundanities as food and work and rest, I would never let you go."

"That too," she mumbles. "The talking, I mean."

"I suppose I speak at such length that my voice must be as familiar and ordinary as-"

"I love you, Damien," she murmurs, clinging more tightly. "Th-thank you."

Damien's breath catches, his center burning with the sweet shock of it, the way he is never quite used to hearing her say those words. He presses his lips to her hair, to her temple, and he rocks gently on his heels, swaying them together.

"I love you, Amaryllis. I am grateful that I could be at your side along this journey, as I wish to be for the rest of our lives."

"We got him home," she says, her tone a worrying waver.

"So we did," he answers gently. "You've done so much, my love. You saved him. Now all you need do is rest."

"No-" she shakes her head, pulling back slightly so she can meet his eye with a grimace. "No, I can't because I still- Damien, I thought we would get here and I would know what I should do, but- but he's home, we brought him home and he's safe and he's going to really, really heal and I still don't know what to-"

"Rilla…"

"And he thinks we're just desperate to get away from him, doesn't he? He'll let us stay the night and then- and then what, Damien? We just- leave and go back home and pretend like- like none of this happened? Pretend like I can go back to thinking about monsters the way I used to? Pretend I never- pretend that I'm not going to- to miss him, that I don't-"

She cuts off, inhales sharply, closes her eyes and clenches her teeth.

"Rilla," Damien murmurs, and he cups her cheek as she shudders out another breath. "It's alright."

"It's not-"

"It is, my love." Damien manages a smile when she opens her eyes again, scowling at him, and it feels bittersweet on his lips. "You said our feelings could not be part of this discussion until Arum was safe again. He is. He is safe, now, and I think you need to speak your own heart, my Rilla. I think you need to say it."

She stares at him, and fear looks so very strange on his beloved. He brushes his thumb across her cheek, his other hand resting at her waist, and he waits. He is more patient than his love; she may take however long she needs.

"I… Damien, I love him," she says. "I do, I love the way he always seems surprised when he laughs, I love his stupid sense of pride and the way he always gestures with his hands even if it hurts his wrist, I love how clever he is and how he cares so much even if he pretends not to, and I love the way he- he mutters in his sleep and- and when he actually smiles I just want to- to-"

"To take him in your arms," Damien murmurs, and Rilla laughs.

"Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. And- and I don't know how I … I don't know how it happened, Damien, and I didn't- I didn't mean to, but- but I do." She looks down, looks away, wincing again. "I love him."

Damien cannot tear his eyes away from her. He would not be capable of the feat if this place collapsed around him entirely. She is-

Fear does not suit his beloved. Love, however, she wears with such beauty and ease that Damien can hardly breathe for the sight of it.

He lifts his other hand, cupping her face, rising to brush his lips over hers, as delicately as he is able.

"I know," he says. "I know, and I know how, as well. It is … rather obvious, in retrospect. You spent every day with him for months, my love. I am unsurprised that you would see the beauty in each other, that you would learn each other, know each other. You are… the both of you are so entirely brilliant, so clever and stubborn and lovely and fierce…"

Rilla exhales half a laugh. "Damien."

"You fell for him slowly, my darling flower. I told you- I believe you grew together. And I … well. I was not beside the both of you for all of that time. I was distant, in the beginning, both in truth and in feeling, and it took time for me to understand that when I looked at him, I saw… someone, rather than some thing. I imagined so much evil in him, and- I could laugh, now, at my stubbornness, the way I twisted him in my mind, to suit my expectations…" he trails off, shakes his head. "What I mean to say, Rilla, is that I was slower to join you, yes. I was slower to follow you, but-" he thinks his smile has gone sheepish, now. Not quite embarrassment, but the awareness of his own nature making him feel wry. "I think we both know that when I fall, it is a rather quick plunge, my love."

Her eyes flick between his own, not quite disbelieving. "You… you said, before, you said feelings, Damien, but- really?"

"Rilla… my darling, my forever-flower, I know that I told you I would- defer to your choices, that I would allow you to set the pace, allow you to choose what would remain said and what would remain unsaid, between the three of us." He swallows, drops his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders. "But- but I am not built to keep feelings within, my Rilla. Every time he looks at me- every time he smiles I feel the waves crashing within me- the damn has nearly broken so many times already- so many moments I looked at him and longed to say…"

He closes his eyes, feeling helpless and awash, but he inhales slowly and the emotion settles, still swelling large within him, but easier, now. Softer.

"He makes me feel… he makes me feel like you do, Rilla. I look at him… his eyes, so sharp and clever, his strong tail, his claws- his hands, so shockingly gentle …" he breathes something like a laugh. "Loving you, my Rilla, is always so overwhelming. Merely being in your presence is enough to make my heart swell, and race, and beg, and your absence causes me such aching that I feel I could die from it. Already I felt so deeply- so powerfully-" He pauses, laughs again. "I felt so full of love … how could I possibly have anticipated that I was capable of further depth of feeling? My heart, full to bursting already- I did not realize that my heart is not a cup, is not some fragile thing wherein I hold my love for you, that jitters and sloshes when I am overwhelmed, when I falter in my tranquility and take, again, to thrashing. Rilla, my heart is not a cup, it does not merely hold. My heart is a spring, is a source, is ever-flowing, without limit. I love you, my Amaryllis, my flower. I love you forever."

Rilla stares, her cheeks flushed dark, her eyes shining. "And you love him, too."

"I do," he says, gentle and certain.

"And he…" she inhales, exhales, and her brow furrows. "I know he feels something for us, too," she says quietly. "I can't say for sure that it's- it's that, but I know he feels something. I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to make it all even more complicated, but- but I'm not stupid and- and honestly he's not exactly subtle."

Damien laughs, in surprise more than humor. "That, he is not," he says, and then he pulls his lip into a wry smile. "Rilla… I will still hold my tongue, if you truly think it is best, but … I think- I think, my love, that we could find a way, if we tried. That we could all, perhaps, be happy. That we could have what we wanted." He pauses, bites his lip. "What… what, exactly, do you want, my Rilla? I know how you feel, but what do you want?"

"I…" she laughs, presses a hand over her mouth. "I want- I don't want him out of our lives, at least. I don't want- I can't stand the thought that we'll leave tomorrow and never see him again, I just can't-"

"Rilla, my heart… I did not ask what you are afraid of." He strokes a hand across her hair, soft, soothing. "Please. Tell me what you want."

"I want… I want to know," she admits, leaning into his arms. "I do. I want to know if he feels the same. If- if he loves us too. And-" she laughs, "and I want to kiss him, if he'll let me."

"Yes," Damien says through his own laughter. "Quite." He tightens his embrace for a moment, crowding close against Rilla until she laughs again. "I suppose it is good to know that we feel the same in that, as well."

[->]

[red-moskito]

24. April. 2020

Málaga, Spain

For many of us, the last time it felt like the whole world was having the same conversation was on September 11th, 2001. For me, it was also the day I left London for Faedis, Italy. A few people around me on the train were murmuring about some kind an attack. When I got the airport, it was so quiet. People stood frozen in front of televisions watching two plumes of black smoke rise into a blue sky.

I’d met Marco while he was in London for a couple days to sell some wine. We both quoted Biggie Smalls and the Big Lebowski. He was just getting the family vineyard going as a proper business. I had no plans beyond the next weekend. I said I liked the idea of working on a vineyard. He said, cool. 

The house was a kitchen and a bedroom above the cantina. Almost everything inside was older than me. The roof in the bedroom sloped down to the floor. We opened a few bottles and ate dinner. 

While insects buzzed and chirped outside the windows, we watched our world reorganize itself towards endless war on television. It was cold that night. We slept under scratchy blankets on little beds made during times of less abundance. 

I stayed until the end of October. We often ate lunch in Orsaria with his parents, Paolo and Miriam. I liked them. They acted as if Marco had just found a younger brother they had somehow misplaced. I also liked their house. It was big, beautiful and warm. They had comfortable sofas and a computer for sending sentimental emails and downloading mp3s. 

I did my best to match their enthusiasm for every course. E buona la pasta, Tito? Si, si... buonissimo! Marco, perché non mangia di più? When I got sick, they had a doctor come to the house. He brought a stethoscope in a leather bag. Nonna introduced me to grappa as medicine. The first glass felt like hot wax going down my throat.  

I annoyed Marco with my plans to marry his sister Barbara, even though she thought I was a sfigato. We drove down gravel roads to parties in little bars where his friends played reggae like some of mine did back home.

No matter how late we stayed out, or how many bottles we left empty on the table, Marco was up with the sun and ready to work. He’d drink flat Coca-Cola before his coffee. Some fuel to get the engine started, man. Good for the stomach. 

Winemaking is agriculture, science, art, design, engineering, sales, marketing, gambling, guessing…. When there aren’t vines to trim, there are tanks to check, fertilizers to buy, grapes to take to the laboratory, grass to cut, cases to deliver, bottles to label, fill, cork... People we’d meet throughout the day said, buon lavoro as goodbye. 

Whenever something could go wrong, it often did. Marco’s momentary frustration would quickly just become something else to laugh about. Stay calm. Piano, piano. We have to be the Tom Cruise of the situation, man. 

Sometimes he would sketch out the plans for our day on scrap paper. Little cartoons of machines, grapes, tanks and tubes with arrows between them. Numbers and notes floating around the edges. He never drew us. We were always moving anyway. 

During the vendemmia a crowd arrived to help. Friends, traveling workers and his family, of course. Nonno laughed and shook his head at me and my allergies. I never really got the hang of the tractor, but I loved cutting the grapes free. We stacked crates and tipped them into presses. They all knew far more about my country than I did about theirs. We debated the merits of Sublime, compared Berlusconi to Bush and retold our favorite Simpsons episodes. Every day we all ate lunch together on the patio beneath a sunshade of interwoven vines. 

The wine we made went to tables all around Friuli-Venezia-Giulia and parts of Europe. I brought a few bottles with me when I left for Torino. Some went to rest on shelves in the cantina.   

The last time I was in Faedis was in August 2016. Marco still sings while he’s walking between the rows of vines. 'Biggie Biggie Biggie can’t you see…’ I mean come on. man. He was really the best. You know it. The best... ‘It was all a dream. I used to read Word-Up Magazine…’ 

The TV in the kitchen is gone. There’s a wood stove there now. They watch movies projected on the wall of the room we used to sleep in. A futon for guests has replaced the little beds. Marco had remodeled the house to make room for another proper bedroom. 

He dug out some grimy bottles of our wine. It was six years younger than I was when we made it. I didn’t get to see Barbara. Paulo and Miriam’s house is now a bed and breakfast. Go there if you’re ever near Orsaria. It’s even more beautiful now. 

Friuili is 300 km from Lombardia. In February, Marco and I started talking and texting about the virus. I’d already started veering away from people on the sidewalk. There was a movie I wanted to see in the cinema, but I didn’t go. I avoided the port full of cruise ship passengers. But I still went out. 

On March 6, I’d had an internal debate about going to the botanical gardens on my day off. It’s outdoors. It’s low season. It’ll be empty. It’s windy and warm. And anyway, Málaga isn’t Bergamo. I rode my bike there, and while I was locking it, I reconsidered again. I saw a couple walking down from the mountains across the road. Should I just hike up this trail instead? Instead I went inside. I’d only been in summer before. I wanted to see what it looked like at the beginning of spring. 

While I was having my coffee, a woman sat at the other end of the picnic table. When she started blowing her nose, I told myself it would be silly and rude to get up. Then she started coughing. I looked at the unwrapped sandwich I had brought from home. My open water thermos. Mentally measuring metres and wind speed. Still feeling like I was being ridiculous. Her daughter brought the drinks and sat down. Ecco la tua mamma... I picked up my things and moved to another table.

I spent the next half hour telling myself I was being paranoid while trying to focus on the plants in the sunshine. Doing impossible math in my head. There are 60 million Italians.... they could have been traveling for weeks... maybe they live here... anyone could have it... there are so many old people here... I heard that man couch under is hat... it could have been on the coffee cup anyway… the bartender washes them in the sink... how hot is that water?

I walked to the end of the gardens where a gazebo was built for the view of the cathedral and the sea. I watched turtles swimming around the little pond. Marco texted me. Stay at home. I called him to tell him about the Italian women and my paranoia. They walked by while I was on the phone, and I moved upwind. Still feeling ridiculous. 

He was calm as always. The main problem is there aren’t enough beds for the, how do you say... the reanimation. The people they are just fucking dying in the corridors. They don’t know for sure who is the patient zero, but the patient one or two. He’s a 38 years old guy. He’s been on the fucking respirator for weeks. In Cividale there are three cases. It’s crazy, man. What we have to do is just fucking close everything like they did in China. But that will never happen you know man, because this is Europe. 

Two days later the Italian government locked down Lombardia and fourteen other provinces. The following day they extended to it include the entire country. Within a week, most of Europe followed suit.

Seven weeks later the Italian government agrees with many of you about the essential nature of wine. So Marco is still working. Since the lockdown started, he’s been in the hospital twice. He was in a car accident in March, and then something more serious happened in April. 

He sent me a selfie from the hospital bed. I called him and he answered laughing. His wife had thought he was faking a stroke to play a trick on her. Fucking unbelievable, man. I tried to drink the juice. You know in the morning, the orange juice, and I put it all over my t-shirt. I couldn’t put it to my mouth. I couldn’t say nothing. I was like blah, blah, blah. My brain was no good. Anyway, how are you, are you good?  

The hospitals in Udine aren’t overwhelmed, but he was only allowed one visitor per day. He asked his mother to bring his laptop, so he could get some work done. Everybody say rest. Rest, rest, rest. Okay, I’m in the bed. 

When he was discharged he sent me a photo with his wife and baby walking between the vines. Their daughter, Emilia, has unruly red hair. In every photo she looks overjoyed and a little surprised to have found herself inside her new body. Are you ok? Super ok, man. Super ok. They were all smiles. Glowing in the green grass. Paola looks far too smart to have fallen for either of us back when we would try to out-charm each other every time a woman arrived at the vineyard. 

Marco’s still getting up with the sun. But fewer and fewer Italians have money for wine. He’s not loading pallets with boxes bound for dinner parties in Oslo or Chicago. No American tourists will be giggling at his accent this summer. The local restaurants are dark and full of stale air. 

For almost twenty years, whenever I’ve called Marco to talk about moving or just getting away, he reminds me of my house in Faedis. 

Next to the front door there are photographs of family and friends working together since long before the days of color. Behind the house, up on top of the hill, there is a little shack with the year 1867 written above the door. It will still be there once our world has reorganized itself yet again. 

So will we. 

https://www.cecchinimarco.com/

http://www.dorsariabedandbreakfast.it/index.php/it/

[comicteaparty]

March 28th-April 3rd, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble   chat that occurred from March 28th, 2020 to April 3rd, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

How many hours do you work on your comic per week, and how do you manager to balance that with other responsibilities?

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

heheh So we are.. cheating a bit Both me and my coworker are unemployed, and is working on hour comic, like was it a full time job. It is our passion project, and dream that we can work and live of makeing comics. In Denmark you can apply for grants from the government, but you need to have releashed a book before that is possible. We are useing the comic, to show potentional clients in the future what we can do. For now we are working on it from 09:00-17:00 ish (with a long lunch break) while applying for other kinds of grants, and also does all the things we are supposed to to get our unemplyment money, and searching for jobs, and freelance gigs, gathering the courage to start our own small company (not right now though) and yeaah time will tell

carcarchu

@Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS that doesn't sound like cheating to me? more like using the tools at your disposal to turn your passion into a viable career

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

hehe it feels a little like cheating! there are some debates about if it is okay or not, but we think that strengthening our skills is a good use of our time

eli [a winged tale]

Haha also not cheating! It’s great you’re using the time to chase the dream I’m curious what’s your breakdown for those time working on the comic? As for me, usually 1-2 hours a day with a bit more on the weekend if time permits. These days with the quarantine it’s about 2-3 h a day

DanitheCarutor

Since I'm unemployed until who knows when I've been working on my comic between 40-50 hours a week about 6 to 7 days a week... most weeks. Some days, like update day or chore day, I hardly work on the comic or don't work on it at all. Admittedly I'm not the best at balancing drawing with other responsibilities, sometimes I get so into it that I forget about daily house chores, other weeks I do the opposite and only do house chores which makes me totally behind of comic stuff. I can't seem to find a good middle ground, it always turns into completely focusing on one or the other.

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah when I get in the zone, time flies and life gets put to the wayside

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

So I have no school or work, so the webcomic has become almost a fulltime project for me

I average about 10 hours per day working on it, not counting on chores and exercise

Another thing I worry about is the possibility of carpal tunnel syndrome, which is why I've been relentless with exercise, too

I guess it's just a combination of relentless reminders and also sheer willpower that gets me to do other responsibilities haha

@eli [a winged tale] also I know that feeling

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

So since my school had to cancel, I have to be more responsible for my online course. Sometimes I give myself 2 days off each week to work more into my upcoming webcomic but I have to switch my mind for school work, online classes. Also extra time for food. I need to get back into exercise or I feel exhausted more easily. I keep a wall schedule so that I make it a routine to write what I'll do every 3 or 5 days, to keep my active brain reminded(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I spent the majority of last year (fun)employed (partially by choice, partially not! my previous job let me go rather unceremoniously... and I needed a hiatus anyway... so it worked out) so I poured a lot more hours into that chapter of Phantomarine than I usually did. I worked on it almost every day - at least for a couple of hours, but sometimes up to a full eight-hour day. That number has dipped tremendously since I’ve gone back to work, but I’m spreading the same amount of time out in a broader way. I’m trying to get a good buffer during my hiatus, so I can work and draw in a healthy balance. I don’t have crazy overtime at my current job like I did at my last one, so that’s already a comfort. I’m confident I’ll be able to hit a good stride once the comic returns in June (edited)

eli [a winged tale]

Can’t wait Lady!!

Feather J. Fern

Two part time jobs, and school killed my comic, but I been working on getting one panel done a day, which is around 30minutes to an hour if possible.

eli [a winged tale]

My routine used to be rendering on the commute but now just once in am and once pm until this limbo time is clarified

That’s awesome Feather! It’s so rewarding when everything comes together after putting effort everyday

Feather J. Fern

Once school is done in two more weeks I will be more free to do things so I hope to get maybe two panels done in a day XD

Online school, stupid quarantine

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Due to the pandemic im mostly off school and my part time job so i spend like 4-5 hours on my comic per day. Still would like try to get a page done per day but lmao digital painting is slowwww

eli [a winged tale]

What’s everyone’s tips for breaks/stretches/balance? I feel like I certainly need to revisit these to avoid burnout and continue feeling motivated!

Feather J. Fern

Actually there was a cool manga artist who's tip was literally he only worked working hours. His mornings are free and since manga was his job, he worked form 12-6, giving him 2 hours to do other work he needs to get done, and takes morning walks and stuff.

Another person I know had "No working weekends" as a thing becuase they are a freelancer.

I personally have try to make sure I ahve a routine, and actually, stretch before drawing.

Streetch before, during a break, and then after, to keep that body nice and warmed up

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Health-wise there's this hing for your : every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds. I'm not good at following this, but when I do it, it helps a lot.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Despite the current pandemic, my work-life hasn't changed much (unless you count stress getting in the way). I am currently "unemployed," but I do consider comicking my full-time job. I am also not very good at balancing work and life. Something's always gotta give. Last year, I worked at a job that basically ruined my ability to work on my comic. I worked 30-40 hours typically, ruined my sleep schedule, took work home sometimes, and was constantly exhausted. This is what resulted in my year and a half long hiatus, and it's what drove me to work like hell on my comic when I quit. Now (when I'm in the groove and not suffering from art block), I typically spend 60-70 hours on my comic and get 2-3 pages done: - 30 hours sketching (I know, ridiculous) - 5 hours filling in base colors - 20-25 hours painting - 5 hours adding text, speech bubbles, sfx, and finishing touches - 1-2 hours formatting for Webtoon I also spend some time throughout the week typing up the script, doing concept art for things coming in the future of the comic, and preparing for conventions, but I can't tell you exactly how much time.

eli [a winged tale]

Thanks for the breakdown! I’m always keen to learn from everyone and seeing how the workflow is like for different people

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

oh don't forget to do wrist stretches!

eli [a winged tale]

Ahh formatting time is always so tedious for me!

Yes wrist exercises! Any recommendations?

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

hmmm well the easiest one is literally just shaking it out

like every hour

and I also like to hold my arm out parallel, point my fingers up and using my other hand to pull the fingers back so i'm stretching the wrist

then I point the fingers down and pull on the fingers until my wrist is stretching

eli [a winged tale]

Awesome. Will be adopting those!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I'm pretty fast. 2-6 hours per page, depending on how detailed it is. Average of 3-4. I could probably do 2 pages/ week easily enough, but don't want to do more than that. I'm the kind of person who always needs to be doing a million different things. I need to leave time for my other hobbies and my paintings and my academics and extracurriculars. Otherwise I'd get burnt out doing one thing only

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

@eli [a winged tale] So since it is both me and @Q (Wayfinders: Off Course) working, we start with working on a rough each, our goal is one step (so rough, ink, color) for two pages pr day, pr person. So in a weak the goal is four finished pages a week, and then we upload 3 pages per week. So it is divided that in the morning we start at 09:00 in the morning, maybe checking mail, being practical or whatever. Then we work until 12:00 were we eat lunch, go for a long nice walk and then we go back to work between 13:00 and 14:00 ish and then work until 17:00 when we begin to prepare dinner. Then of course breaks inbetween

Q (Wayfinders: Off Course)

It’s pretty wild to be able to dedicate your entire day to comics like that

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

damn you all work fast

do you guys have any tips on how to work on a webcomic faster?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Lol, I wish!

Still looking for those magical secrets

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

@shadowhood (SunnyxRain) You know the 80-20 rule? You can get 80% of the result with 20% of the effort? My comic is very messy if you zoom in. I don't spend time making sure the linework or the coloring is perfectly clean. Also, I'm pretty fast at drawing figures. I used to practice figure drawing a lot by rushing to draw strangers irl before they moved, or by drawing a bunch of fast figures from the free figure drawing model websites online. I've also taken a figure drawing course (didn't even have to pay because it was part of my university! Even if you don't have that option you can probably find free life drawing sessions on Meetup or similar!) which really helped me streamline my process for drawing people

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh I see! Yes, I used to take life drawing classes too! And your response makes me feel a lot better

I tend to be a bit messy with inking, and since i'm a perfectionist a lot of my time is wasted on editing/clean up

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I've seen cronaj draw, and while I think the results look excellent, I think her method is a kind of inefficient. She draws like a printer, nearly finishing one detailed body part before moving on the the next. I think maybe if she drew in a more classical way, going from a gesture drawing to progressively more detailed, it might help her be faster and her poses more cohesive and dynamic. Maybe working on 1 or 5 min figures would help? Practicing things like this?

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah I try to do figure practices for efficiency

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I heard that there are some online life drawing vids you can follow too

but what are your experiences with online life drawing vids versus the real thing

like is there a real difference?

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

found some of my old 1 minutes

To me there's not too much difference

I've heard some people say that life drawing is either way easier or way harder though. Because of your depth perception when looking at a real person

But the bruises on my legs can attest to my horrid depth perception haha. That might be why I don't notice a difference

Actually those previous sketches might be 30 seconds? I don't remember

I would recommend you try both but right now we pretty much only have the online option haha

eli [a winged tale]

Yeah I’ve done both and I think irl creates complexity with depth and the interactions with others etc is helpful but online is my go to for flexibility

I think having a process streamlined will make things more efficient. The downside is that it might feel tedious and I do switch it up from time to time for variety

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Might feel uncomfortable but that's how you know you're improving

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There is a TON of difference for me. I HAVE to look at a physical model in front of me.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Can't get better if you always do the same things

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

This is what my brain does.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I wonder- could drawing yourself in a mirror be a decent substitute?

If youre lucky you might also be able to ask an SO or roommate to model for you. Should probably pay them back by cooking for them or something though

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Brain: sees a real model in front of me Brain: translates 3D to 2D, result: drawing Brain: sees a photo/video of a model Brain: SHIT. That's supposed to be 3D, isn't it? Brain: Translates 2D to 3D (basically re-constructing it in my head, or attempting to re-construct) so that it can translate it back to 2D Brain: BSOD

There's some online resources out there that have "3D" photos... you know, two near-identical images side by side, so if you look at it cross-eyed, it becomes 3D?

But I can't do those because I get a headache X'D

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Just thinking about drawing from that makes me dizzy

eli [a winged tale]

Oh interesting!

Yeah maybe looking out the window to draw people would be the way to go...

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

But maybe figure drawing in VR exists?

eli [a winged tale]

Balcony figure drawings

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I live on the top floor so those are going to be some very small figures

eli [a winged tale]

For ants

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Once this coronavirus thing is over, there's lots of ways you can do gesture drawings from just random people -- bus stops, cafes, museums (I have not done this, but people who have done this report this is really good because others assume you're drawing the artworks. XD)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I've done this a lot

Sometimes I've even shown people drawing of themselves if they've turned out particularly nice

They've always taken it well

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I like drawing my professors because they use hand gestures a lot when they talk

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Airport was REALLY good for finding people stuck in one pose indefinitely

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

they alwayas laugh when I show them

eli [a winged tale]

Shadow omg I do that too

Draws classmates

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

yeah the only issue i have with drawing classmates

is that they're always doing the "i'm using my phone" pose

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Become the master of drawing people on their phones

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Maybe try drawing children on the playground?

This works better if you're a woman

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

oh thank jesus

I also like going to the zoo or the museum

or the aquarium if i'm feeling adventurous

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I am a University student so I also have some pretty interestng drawings of people asleep in weird poses

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I really need to start going to weekly figure drawing sessions once this is over (there's one here... 20 min drive... 8AM Saturdays )

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

ditto or just go to the park and draw

and @Eightfish (Puppeteer) I've had some.....weird poses from all my profs

one guy was incredibly hard to draw; he was VERY enthusiastic about showing us knife skills

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

The parks here are too spacious, to a degree where it's weird to get close enough to people

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Bring binoculars

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Don't worry ma'am I'm an artist

nothing sketchy

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

(except my sketch)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

A+ pun right there

another place to go for figure drawing

theaters

like.....opera/plays

I once tried drawing the men dancing in the Newsies musical

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Tried that once, but it took me out of the performance

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

same i was dazzled by dancing men

aaaaand then i abandoned sketching at all when they started throwing newspaper strips into the audience

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

But they were giving you free paper!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

THEY WERE

i'll take what i can get

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@Eightfish (Puppeteer) While I agree that my method of drawing is "inefficient," I do not draw like a printer. There are videos of people drawing like a printer and it's not what I'm doing. I have done gesture drawing before, but it always looked incredibly abstract, and not quite like people, which is fine, but not what I'm going for. I treat gesture drawing like a warm-up exercise. It doesn't really do anything for my end result, but gets my drawing muscles stretched out.(edited)

eli [a winged tale]

Gesture drawings are definitely a good warmup!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Perhaps it was an inappropriate analogy. What works for me I guess wouldn't work for everyone. I was trying to offer advice because whenever you talk about how much time you spend on art and you work life balance it's commendable but also dismaying. I hope you find something that works for you in the future

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Oh god.. I sometimes work 6 hours a day. I guess thats like 30 hours a week? Crazy to think about, it's like a full job

Oooh you guys are sharing figure drawings... I swant to show some of mine

Behold

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

My figure drawing usually breaks down into like, medical anatomy study. I feel like I understand body shapes better by including the muscles & bones

carcarchu

ABS the most important figure study

Deo101 [Millennium]

ah figure drawing? I love figure drawing ^^

I do like a lot but this kinda thing is most of it

anyways as for the question at hand, I do a lot of different things for my comics weekly. My millennium pages take me 2-6 hours i would say, but I also have patreon things I need to do so I'd say i spend 10-15 hours on it a week. for my other comic, I spend about 6 hours an update, and it updates every other week. but honestly, all of my free time goes to assorted comics. If i'm not working on school work or chatting with people, I'm working on things for patreon, potential merch, or other comics I want to start sometime.

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Oooh nice poses!!’

Deo101 [Millennium]

thanks!! I have a ton of gesture/figure drawings but these ones are my most recent that I have saved to my computer i think

10 minutes im pretty sure. very good for speeding up

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Those look really nice, good values

Deo101 [Millennium]

thanks ^^ I really hate working in charcoal honestly, it kinda always winds up hurting my body somehow, but its very quick sooooooo

kayotics

My answer for the prompt question has changed a lot since I started quarantine lmao... I used to do about 10 hours of work throughout the week on my comic page (usually after work, I have an office job) but ironically it’s gotten harder while I work from home. I’ve been struggling to find time since I don’t have a separation between work and home now, and putting the boundaries up of “I’m not always available” to coworkers is difficult.

Also on figure studies: they’re a great way to practice speed. I use the concepts of figure drawings all the time.

RebelVampire

@kayotics As someone who always works from home doing remote contract work, I have to say I think this is something a lot of people underestimate about work at home life. In that it's sometimes really difficult to establish boundaries with ppl and make them understand you aren't always available and also aren't gonna work billions of hours of overtime. So I'm sorry to hear that's affecting your comic work.

Shadowmark Productions

I work anywhere from 6-8 hours a day on comic stuff. That’s an average though. Sometimes I slack and need to pull all nighters to make up for it. Yes, I am terrible at time management. They say entrepreneurs are the only people willing to work 80 hours a week for themselves so they do not have to work 40 hours a week for someone else. I guess webcomic creators are the only people willing to work 80+ hours a week so that they can... go to work for someone else afterwards

AntiBunny

4 days of procrastinating, 1 of procrastinating and hating myself, and 2 of actual comic drawing seems to make up my weekly comic making schedule. :p

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I can only imagine how stressed I would be if I forced myself to update weekly

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

This is a hard question to answer because it varies a lot depending on my energy levels. Ideally I’d spend several hours a day on comics, but realistically I draw as much as possible when I have the energy (5+ hours a day for as many days in a row as I can handle it) and then go weeks or months too tired to do comics. On average, barring any long periods of exhaustion or other interruptions from RL, I spend about 20+ hours a week making pages for my comics.

sagaholmgaard

I prefer to work on my comic for about an hour ever morning and maybe 2-3 hours in the evening, that's the ideal routine for me. Right now I sadly have a lot of schoolwork to do (writing my thesis) so i might get less than 30 minutes in the morning and then feel rlly tired in the evening so I dont get as much time then either. but oh well!

I can still work for 4-5 hours on the weekends so I manage ^^(edited)

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

The whole stay-indoors order's currently completely wrecked my pattern, but before that I did between 3-4 hours a day.

Shadowmark Productions

Can’t imagine the stress of a daily or even weekly posting schedule. Hats off.

[lizzienoodles]

9, 15, 26, 27

9: time spent drawing on an average day: gosh, maybe 3-6 hours? a lot of time i spend longer than that “drawing” but i forget to time my breaks so i’m not completely sure.15: how long does an average piece take to complete: once again, i dont time myself often, but when i’m in a good flow, i work pretty fast. My Hela piece clocked in at 2 hours 22 minutes, BUT i only started the video after i’d made like 3 sketches working out the composition, so upwards of 3 hours probably. for something simpler like the dinosaur girls, i finished that in an hour. Comic pages take WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY longer. 4-8 hours probably26: programs: i use medibang paint! I recommend it! I’d love to learn how to use photoshop but right now the $$ factor is limiting27: how many layers in a piece: for simple art i have 1-2 sketch layers, a line layer, a color layer, layers for shade and highlight, and a background, so about 6? but for more complicated pieces i break it down into sections like foreground and background elements and things that overlap etc, so it can easily get upwards of 20. i think the most i ever got to was 70 for my gigantic voltron picture. that was just ridiculous.

[iceamericanoventi]

Blank Space - Chapter 6

­­­­Part 5B.

---------------------

It’s 7 in the morning and no one should be still in their dream land or maybe catching some trains or buses. Or may be stopped by to a coffee shop to grab one cup before facing the upcoming hectic day. No one knows.

And the fashion department studio should be as empty as other classes in that campus. But particular girl already on her desk, back and forth pinning some fabric to a mannequin and sketching after lining up some material on the table. Though her focus is 100% on the half-naked statue next to her, she couldn’t help catching someone intrudes her bubble by the corner of her feline eyes.

He’s getting closer so she put more concentrate on cutting the piece of silk in her hand. And when he dragged a stool right across the desk, she’s still acting that no one occupied the room besides her.

His presence is already intimidating. And to make it worst, the entire gaze he shot on her is full of affection instead of curiosity. Or anger. Or anxiety.

“I don’t know you’re such an early bird.”

“You know nothing about me,” she deadpanned while leaving her eyes to empty air between them.

“I know you’re pretty. Nice and smart. Passionate on your work, I can tell.”

She seemed not having any intention to look at the speaker by shifting to her side, putting different color of silks on the mannequin’s shoulder.

“Oh, and you also got big guts. You know, kissing someone in daylight in a crowd you barely know is not easy.”

Her hand stopped right away in the air. By this time, the only choice left for her is to blast him her trademark annoyed glare.

“Finally. Is it that hard for you to look at me?”

It only took a pair of torn eyes to melt Gwiboon’s heart. His eyes were genuine, looked really sincere no matter how she tried to ignore that fact. It’s not that she hates that face. How can you hate that puffy cheeks and full lips? Oh, dear God, those sinful lips. When her eyes darted to that pair of flesh, perfect pink tint crept on Gwiboon’s cheek out of nowhere. What’s the matter with you, Kim Gwiboon?

“Isn’t your class started later? It’s not even 9!”

“Wow. And you know my time table too. Unbelievable.”

The shade over Gwiboon’s face is getting more obvious it’s not even pink anymore. And Jinki once again, mesmerized by the view of bashful girl in front of him. His grin splits his face into two.

“I happened to have a brother taking the same course with you, don’t be so cocky you’ll ruin my mood! I know most of his class started after 10.”

“So, you stalked me through your brother? Hmmm. Interesting, really interesting.”

Gwiboon half slammed her scissors onto the table and Jinki flinched on his seat, “I got lots of stuff to do. If you’re here just to joke around and mock me then the door’s over there.”

Jinki sighed rather loud, considering only two people in this huge studio, “Look. This is the first time we got to be alone after, you know, I ki—“

“I don’t want to talk about that!”

“But I want to. And I’m going to talk about that again and again. We kissed before. Twice. That’s a lot for people who are – wait, what’s your term, oh yeah – stranger.  Are we not going to do something about that?”

“What do you want, really?”

She continues to pampering the mannequin, stitched it here and there just to keep her mind busy because she’s about to collapse listening to that soft voice.

“I don’t know. What do you want? I mean, I don’t know what about you, but I like you. A lot.”

He talked to Gwiboon’s back but his words stabbed her, passed her spine and directly engulfed her heart in slow motion. The latter couldn’t help but bit her lips for the sake not jumping in excitement like a sugar-rushed five year old kid.

“I like you too.”

Jinki is not expecting this one. He’s so ready to hear Gwiboon’s getting enrage and ranting, but her simple reply got him stunned in a second.

“Oh, wow. And now you’re muted. Whatever. You’ve got what you want, now can you not distracting me with your ridiculously warm crescent eyes?”

‘Did I just say he got warm eyes?’

“Did you just tell me that my eyes are warm and distracting? Am I dreaming or what?”

Gwiboon’s sulking on her own, stomping her feet while moving and trying so hard avoiding Jinki’s eyes. Most people would get boring easily if the opposite person they talked to is ignoring them. But Jinki, Jinki’s definitely not most people. He enjoyed his time there looking at working hard Gwiboon. She loved whatever she’s doing and that sends him lots of strange feeling. A good strange feeling.

He pulled out the little sketch book he always had on his pocket, snatching a pencil from Gwiboon’s desk and starts copying her side view on it. Every single hair strands, neckline, her jaw, all are drawn perfectly in such limited time. While he enjoying the sight before him to complete his quick doodles, his phone’s buzzing madly, ruining the tranquil air wrapped them.

“Yes, Jinki’s speaking! Oh, Mr. Kim! What can I help this time?”

Gwiboon tried so hard not to eavesdropping but the struggle is real when the only sounds ringing in the room is his clear voice.

“Really? That’s great! Really really great! Thanks for calling me in advance! I’m already at the university don’t worry, I’m heading to your office now.”

He’ll be gone soon. Why does this feel not right?

“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a moment. Thank you very much once again!”

When the conversation seemed finished, Gwiboon can hear Jinki’s huffing to the atmosphere and she sense disappointment out of him. Through the small mirror steady on her desk, she can see he shuffled on his seat and ready to leave.

“Gwiboon.”

“Hmm.”

“I need to go right now. But I’ll definitely back aft–– “

“This design needs to be delivered to the board at lunch.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you later! Good luck with the mannequin! I love the lace color.”

“It’s not lace. It’s embroidery.”

But Jinki’s already dashed outside the room when Gwiboon finished her words. And the room feels emptier than ever when not even his trace of perfume stayed there. She shrugged her shoulder and moved to the end of her desk to measure some ribbon. That’s about the time she found a paper alone near the corner.

‘You know what this girl needs? A smile on her face. Because the Kim Gwiboon I know is way much prettier when she smiles. Mind to let me know how the design goes? :)’

Under her flawless portrait on the paper, Jinki wrote his number. Seeing that, her soul had been taken away in between excitement and sorrow.

***

“They love it! Two of them are presented earlier on the next board meeting and they assigned me to fill the first walk and also the last.”

“Who is this?”

“You said you want to know how the design goes!”

He put down the cigarette and kept it back inside its box while his face turned into a blossoming rose, “Gwiboon?”

“Who do you expect?!”

“I just surprised, I thought you won’t calling me.”

“Me too.”

Long pause fill up the awkwardness between them, until Jinki tried to break it, “So it means you’ll stay in the studio until midnight again?”

“Guess so. I can only go to the studio on Wednesday and Friday. And Saturday morning. But lots of detail needs to be finished.”

“Why don’t you go there every day? Working two or three hours after the class won’t hold you to go back early, well, at least not until midnight,” Jinki being his original himself, trying to make everything more bearable with a better schedule.

“The other day I got a bis – never mind.”

“What?”

“It’s not only me on the studio! I don’t want people take a look at my design! It’s not finished yet! It looks like people caught me naked.”

“I’ve visited you yesterday, so that meant I saw you naked?”

“You pervert head hog!”

Long haul of laughter spread through the line, not only to Gwiboon’s ear, but also to her heart. It feels great. It feels like home.

“You are the one who said that. I just emphasize the possibility. No, I just made a confirmation. Not my fault.”

“Cut it off.”

“As you wish.”

“What are you doing?”

“Me? Smoking.”

“And cut that off too! It’s bad for you!”

“I’m not even had a chance to light it up! Your call was kind of interrupting.”

“That’s good. I’ll make sure to call you every two or three days to check on you. Just so you know, the nicotine stays in your lips.”

“How do you know? You’re not even smoking!”

“I can taste it the other time.”

Warmth fills up his hollow chest. He spent the entire week to work on his final project and help Taemin writing some lyrics to his performance. To sum it up, he’s exhausted as hell. But listening to the words leaving Gwiboon’s lips, he felt like he could climb another mountain right now.

“Oh are you sure? Want to double check it again?”

Jinki is not even next to her, but still, she got blushed all over her cheeks, “You and your pervert brain can spend entire years in hell!”

He cracks right away, “I’ll stop by every Wednesday and Friday then.”

“Nah, you got your own thing to finish. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine and I won’t. You’ll never know how it feels to be a man coming home before dinner and knowing the woman he cares about still out there doing things for a living.”

Her throat strangled by invisible rope. Silence cut everything Gwiboon’s trying to say.

“So yeah, see you next Friday?”

“Oh,” she finally got her mind back in the system, “Well, whatever. Just don’t back up right away after you found it boring. I won’t entertain you at all, busy stuff.”

“How can I get bored with you, seriously?”

And since that weekend, after his studio’s finished, he brought his laptop and sketch book, dragged his feet to the farthest building at the university. He just sat there and continued clicking here and there, sometimes peeking over Gwiboon and just looking at her when his eyes got tired staring at the screen nonstop.

Sometimes Gwiboon already waiting with a packed dinner for him. Sometimes Jinki pushed the studio’s door a little bit late, with her favorite coffee set in hand.

Sometimes Jinki is too lazy to make a presentation layout and just enjoying Gwiboon’s side view. Sometimes Gwiboon not touching her works at all and just peeking on his screen or capturing his serious face with her Polaroid.

***

And with that, people start talking again. They talk when Gwiboon stopped by to architect’s department studio design both hand carried packed lunch. When she dropped one on Jinki’s desk and the other to his brother’s. They talk when Jinki’s board shoulders appeared so often in the fashion design department. When he casually ruffled Gwiboon’s hair after the class and they went together to Jinki’s basement.

Nobody needs another radio announcement or neon box advertising to notice they are seeing each other. Minho and Taemin don’t even bother to confirm, as well. But they are not Jonghyun.

“You doing well, lately?”

“Hmmm.”

It’s dinner time in their house and the second week of the month, Gwiboon’s home and Jonghyun found his chance to ask her about all those rumor he had been buzzed off.

“Your project is okay?”

“It’s great,” she shoved another pile of beef salad in her mouth, eyes keep staring to her phone.

“I’ve been heard some gossips.”

“It’s gossip. You know you shouldn’t listen to that crap.”

“Well, I won’t listen if that’s not about you.”

“It’s always about me, huh?” she put down her phone, eyes locked with her brother, “Which one do you trust? Those stupid people or me?”

“I trust my friends Gwiboon.”

“So you don’t believe me because I am apparently not one of your friend?”

“Jinki is my friend.”

“So? Did he tell you something?”

“He didn’t. That’s why I asked you.”

“Your logic is not pretty good sometimes.”

“It is pretty good when half of your classmate said that your sister and your friend making out here and there around the campus.”

She shot her head up and what she found makes her writhing silently. Jonghyun’s not angry. Jonghyun looks care.

“Are you going out with him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you dating him?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Gwiboon.”

“I really don’t know, Jong! We don’t define what is this happened between me and your friend!” Gwiboon finds it hard to just say Jinki’s name like that, “Not everyone smart enough or brave enough to call it something, you know!”

She’s tossing the fork on her hand to the plate, appetite gone in flash. Jonghyun didn’t tilt his head a bit, making Gwiboon more uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

“This is my friend, Gwiboon. You don’t just like people and hanging out with them without checking them whether you’re on the same page and then after you got bored you just left! I’ve told you since the beginning. Jinki’s my friend! He’s a nice guy!”

“And you think I don’t deserve nice guy? You think the best choice that I could have is random guy who treat me like a whore or someone who’s sexist enough to go to jail?! Am I that low in your eyes, Jong?”

When Jonghyun saw her all torn and sincere, he mentally burns himself in hell, “It’s not like that, Gwiboon.”

“It’s always been like that! Being judgmental and hating every single thing I’ve done! I don’t know where exactly my fault is. And I can’t even like a guy whose kind enough to bring me a cup of coffee in the middle of night without asking anything after that?”

“Kim Gwiboon, listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me, brother of mine. I am as afraid as you of losing him if something unwanted happened in the future between me and him. If you care enough all this time, I am not as cold as bitch that you pictured of me in your head. I have no one to run whenever all those gibberish that you called gossip is way too far and ridiculously make no sense to handle. But he’s there. Suddenly he’s there, doesn’t even care about all those craps and still give me the perfect genuine smile even when my own brother doubts me.”

“Gwiboon, it’s no—“

“It’s not like that? Is that what you want to say?”

“I told you to listen to me!” this time Jonghyun started to lose his temper and raised his voice, shut Gwiboon down right away, “Jinki is my friend. You know that. He is a person that I care a lot, as much as I care about you.”

Gwiboon looks she’s not ready with everything that he had in mind.

“Yes, Kim Gwiboon. All this feud and everything we had doesn’t stop me to care of you. Never in a million way, and because of that reason alone, have I known that this time is different than before. Different than all those bastard trying to hook up with you. And that’s the reason why I have no heart to let you ruin yourself.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Jinki is going to graduate soon. And who the hell knows what would he did after that, he might go to the end of the world to do another volunteer work or being busy in his new office. He’s going to leave eventually. And I don’t want you to feel to be left behind again. Not after what I did to you.”

So Jonghyun has no idea about me leaving the university?

Gwiboon bite her lips, contemplating whether he should tell Jonghyun the truth or not.

“Jong,” the latter is surprised, it’s been so long since Gwiboon called him that way, “I don’t care he might leave next month, or next year, or maybe tomorrow. At this point I don’t even care if what’s going on between me and him right now is real. This is new for me, as you said before, yes, I admit that this is different than before.”

“Gwiboon, how many times should I tell you, I don’t care about you might hurt him, it’s the opposite that I am worried now. The fact that he might hurt you when he left.”

“If that what is your concern, I’ll make sure I’m the one who left him and not the other way.”

“Kim Gwiboon, this is not a game.”

No, it’s not, Jong. I am the one who’s going to leave him and might break his heart. I am the criminal.

“You know I don’t play game. Thank you for your concern, but I think I’m old enough to play safe and handle my feeling.”

Gwiboon wiped her mouth quickly and retreated to her room before Jonghyun stopped her for another argument. Before her tears spilled out the brim of her eyes.

I’m sorry, Jong. I didn’t mean to make you lose him when I did.

***

“Can you move a little bit?”

Jinki shifted closer to Gwiboon instead further away, forcing the latter gritted her teeth. He broke into huge laughter before peck her cheek and gave her the space she needed.

“What the heck?”

“I’m sorry, but your upset expression is my new Achilles heels now. I just can’t help myself about that.”

“You need to do something about that. I am begging you. Before all these girls broke into my locker and burn everything inside, ruined the whole project that I’m working on.”

“And you need to stop imagining something. It’s not gonna happened and it’s not healthy.”

She cocked her head to the side, Jinki grins like a five year old with sugar rush.

“Let me tell you something. I’ve been received dead animals on my studio’s desk. I got calls from unknown number threating to kill me every once in a week because apparently I am a bitch and they are fucking coward without balls and guts. But now, I have some important business to take care before the beginning of the next month. So. Can you not?”

“Not what?”

“Not doing exactly what could wake up their inner hyena to do all those stupid stuffs I just mentioned!”

“Like this?”

He closed the distance once again and rested his lips on her cupid bow ones, pushed back every argument hanging on the tip of her tongue.

“Love birds!! Get a room!!”

They parted and turned to the source of annoying voice just to fins Taemin beaming into wide smirk across the hall.

“Mind your own business, kiddo!”

Jinki shouted to his brother who rolled his eyes before he continued walking to the direction of the library.

“I am so done with you!”

“Really? That fast?”

He darted his eyes to down south and Gwiboon’s cheeks cannot hide the blushed anymore.

“Creepy old pervert! I’m leaving!”

Jinki cracks on the spot but not losing his chance to grab her wrist, stopping her for going somewhere else.

“Can you stay for another 15 minutes?”

“I have an appointment with my supplier and you said you need to fix the structure calculation before this weekend. And also..”

“Also?”

She sighs while slipped the straps of the bag on her shoulder, “Jonghyun might be here anytime. Just like Taemin.”

“So what?”

“He is your best friend!”

“And he’s your brother.”

“Who doesn’t even care that I’m exist.”

“Kim Gwiboon.”

“Lee Jinki.”

“Are you keep it secret from Jonghyun?”

“No, he already knew.”

“So?”

“I just don’t want to make everything more complicated. And awkward. I’m doing you a favor here.”

“Gwiboon, I don’t need your help. I’m okay.”

“But I’m not.”

Both of them are sinking into silence. And without asking, Gwiboon understands how disappointed Jinki at this second.

“Jinki, all my life has been a cold war. I know this is hard and too much to ask, but I hope you have a big heart on it. For once in my life, I want to forget everything and believe only on the reality that I want to acknowledge.”

“I understand. But if you just want to care about what you believe, why you bother to care about other’s opinion?”

“Because I care about you.”

He couldn’t believe what he just heard. When he shot his head up, the girl in front of him looks so vulnerable.

“I’ll see you on Friday. Good luck with the structure stuff.”

And she just walked away, not giving him a chance to hug her or even bid goodbye.

***

Two people lying on a dark indigo fluffy carpet while their head on the bed, or more like thick mattress, with their mind wander in their own track. Above them, a simple handmade pendant lamp is hanging on the open wooden structure ceiling. Sun’s seeping through the small window, making a great shadow on the wall beside which occupied by tall wooden cabinet where books and zombies figurines march neatly.  

What makes Gwiboon loves to spend her time here is not only because of the slanted eyes boy is laying next to her, busy reading a quite thick book. The atmosphere inside this sanctuary soothing her mind, high ceiling released her stressed feeling inside her chest.

“You should put something green on that cabinet.”

“Hmmm.”

“Small succulent in colorful pot won’t hurt.”

“I have no time taking care of any plant.”

“Cactus only need water every one or two weeks, idiot.”

When her elbows stick onto his ribs, he could only flinch, but not planning to stop reading or whatsoever.

“Tell me three things I don’t know about you.”

This time, she got his attention. He put down the book on his stomach and turned his head to his right just to find Gwiboon staring right to the ceiling, fingers intertwined resting on her chest.

He chuckled then, discarded the book and rolled himself, supporting his head with one arm, the free one decided to play with Giwboon’s fringe, “What kind of thing?”

“Anything. Something secret. Something special that only you and your family know. Or even something you kept for yourself.”

“Hmmm. Let’s see,” Gwiboon leaned to her side so she’s currently facing Jinki, tint pink smudged on her cheek, “But in exchange you need to tell me three things about you.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

She smirked then lifted her head a bit so her pouty lips can land perfectly on Jinki’s full ones, “Promise.”

As if hypnotized by her action, he opened his secret drawer right away, “I’ve dyed my hair pink.”

For Gwiboon, even though Jinki’s well known in their circle, she still presume the latter is someone with reserve personality and far for her wild imagination.

“You would never pull it off. No way.”

“Yes way. But it only last for maybe around four months? Or five? I don’t remember,” he picked his phone and roamed to his gallery, “It’s about the same time when Taemin decided to turn his hair purple.”

“I bet you looked so sexy back then,” Gwiboon stretched her hand to brush Jinki’s hair which then the latter stopped her hand with his mischievous grin.

“Nothing beat you when it comes to being sexy.”

She rolled her eyes but failed to hide her blush, “Stop being cheesy! Now facts number two!’

Jinki could only laugh and messed up her front bangs again, a new habit he developed lately whenever the latter around, “When I was in Brazil, I wasn’t exactly live there for three months.”

“What do you mean?”

“I stayed in Argentina for a month and two other weeks in Chile.”

“Wow.”

“You do fascinated by that?”

“No, not even slightly. But the fact all of your fans out there assumed you’re volunteering slash surviving in the heart of Amazon forest for three whole months is indeed really fascinating.”

“Which fans? I’m not even famous in my department.”                

“I’m actually at the point feeling confused whether you are too naïve or too cocky. Then can you explain why people were extremely happy when the rumor about you ditched me broke out?”

Gwiboon’s heart almost dropped to the ground when Jinki’s eyes torn a bit before kissed her nose in flash, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s their right to hate me. I am not that kind either to them,” she tried so hard to shrug his concern, “Now the last one.”

“This is embarrassing.”

“As long as it’s not you telling you’ve been stay behind the bars, I’m okay with that!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not that wild. It’s happened when I’m on 5th grade. I once cried when I got 2nd place in the class.”

And when the girl next to him burst into one massive laugh, he could only blast sheepish smile as his cheeks felt a lot warmer than it supposed to be.

“Now’s your turn.”

“Lee Jinki, the best model student ever, everyone!”

“Enough with me,” Jinki’s sulking and leaned back again to the carpet, hands folded in front of him like a five year old, “I told you that’s embarrassing. Taemin has been mocking me my whole life. You better not join force with him.”

“But that is so cute. I can imagine you, cheeks puffing, eyes almost gone, bawling secretly on your bed, face drenched with tears.”

“I wish I hadn’t told you that!”

“That means you’re human, baby,” she placed both her hands to his cheeks and turned his face to make those eyes level with hers, “I was a nerd, too. I have no friend besides Jonghyun and my books until middle school.”

“There’s no such thing in the world.”

“You can check it out. Ask Jonghyun. But probably he would say nothing and telling you that you’re wasting your time.”

“Let’s say it’s true, what else?”

“I’m closer to my grandmother than to my parents,” her throat suddenly felt a lot drier.

“I guess that happened to Jonghyun, too.”

“How do you know that?”

Jinki’s smile looks so sincere plastered on his glowing face, “Both of you are alike more than you realize. And choosing to stay in the dorm rather in your own house? That should at least speak something.”

“Seriously, you don’t stalk him behind my back, do you?”

“Don’t be jealous, baby,” he winked and got his forehead flicked by Gwiboon, “Is your life that boring? I need to hear something ridiculous.”

“I’m not a superstar like you. My life is full of hate and judgment.”

“Not stupid things like wet your pants? Stealing your parent’s money to buy new Barbie? Or got into fight with some other bitches?”

“I’m leaving soon, Jinki. And there’s no way whatever happened between us gonna last.”

Those words are already hanging at the tip of her tongue. However, when she’s looking at Jinki, those warm coffee color orbs shut her down, threaten her with the most horrible moment when finally their times together ruined.

“Fine. But promise me you won’t laugh at me?”

This time, Jinki’s the one who pecked her lips, “Promise.”

“I took my dog as my high school prom date.”

“Well, the story about an ugly duckling turned into swan is not a joke.”

She slapped his arm hard, “You promise not to laugh!”

“Am I looked like I’m laughing now?!” Gwiboon is pouting but she’s struggling not to laugh at the moment, “Is there no one to ask back then?”

“Minho and I broke up two weeks before prom. He got a new girl and I had no one. So I made a tuxedo for my dog and bring him to the party.”

“And that’s what we called secret. I always thought you are this popular chick everybody adores since you were young.”

“I told you I was a nerd, an outcast who suddenly decided to become a spoiler brat and selfish bitch. I think Minho is the only friend I keep until now.”

“You can keep me, though.”

“How can I keep everyone’s favorite just for myself?” Gwiboon turns her head ahead, staring back to the ceiling, “I’m done being selfish. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Being selfish is okay sometimes. You said we’re human, right?”

She closed her eyes when she caught by the corner of her eyes, Jinki fixed his eyes on her, “We are like a group of dysfunctional people,” she blurted out once he’s back to Jinki.

“I don’t think so,” he played with her hair again, leaned a bit and tuck it behind her ear and making Gwiboon’s almost choked with his sweet scent in such distance, “I’m about to finish my final project then started my master degree soon. And just so you know, this ding dong here is working rather fine lately.”

Jinki looked down and bashfully grinned making Gwiboon slapped him once again, “It’s not what I mean, pervert!!”

It’s hard not to be flustered by such a comment. Especially when she realized her heart beat faster whenever Jinki made that face, the ridiculously adorable dork, literally Jinki’s being himself.

“Most people get to know each other first. Then when they feel like it, they kissed. And probably make out. But we’re having it backwards. We kissed. Some unintentionally, some planned, well, we kiss a lot just to sum up. Then later on, here we are, peeling out ourselves layer by layer.”

“Well, we aren’t common people at the first place, just in case you forgot.”

She really could just sigh, “What are we, really?”

Jinki shifted uncomfortable before convinced himself this is what both of them wanted at this moment, “Two people enjoying each other presence and silently hoping time would just stop like this.”

Gwiboon sighed, maybe too loud, making Jinki frowns again, mind battling whether he said the wrong thing or not.

“You’re right. Maybe I just want to stay like this forever.”

“Staring at the ceiling?”

“Of course not, stupid,” She turned and caressed his cheek in a slow motion, “Feeling you breathing next to me just to make sure I am not alone.”

His hand wrapped hers and dragged it right onto his chest, “You will never be alone again as long as you let me be around you.”

Two or three months ago, Gwiboon might be bet all of her possession to hear Jinki said such things like this. But when he’s finally here, not only looking to her direction, but also give her the best smile she ever seen and hold her hand so tight, she actually wanted to mop her heart and curse the universe for playing with her feeling and time.

Mostly to the time for being such a tease.

“Promises are made to be broken.”

“Wanna bet?”

Before Gwiboon could retail some words in her mind, Jinki’s lips already pressed to hers. Slow and careful, delicate like a ballerina, they’re dancing with her soft flesh, step by step tickling her heart. She gave up under his touch and returned the favor, kissing him back. This time inside her head, fireworks do appear. But they explode together with dynamite, one to another.

They parted away when both of them lack of air, but apparently Jinki doesn’t give her time to rest her heart by sneaking his hand under her back, scooping her a little so their chests pressed tighter than before and his full lips back to claim her pouty ones.

“Jinx, what if this is just a dream?”

“Then I refused to wake up.”

“I mean it. What if, suddenly we were apart?”

“I’ve been there and it tortures every possible part of me. I won’t cross that path again, Gwiboon.”

“That’s not answering my question.”

“Are you seeing another man right now?”

“What? No!”

“Your parents set you into some arranged marriage?”

“Of course not!”

“Are you dying?”

“Jinki, you are nuts! I’m not sick!”

“Then everything can wait. But not this.”

His face is completely hovering hers now. And Gwiboon barely sane to compose anything in her mind.

***

The pain stings her head disturbed her sleep, force her to flex opened the feline eyes and move her damned limb. However, the view that greets her is way far from familiar. Outlining the sun ray seeped into the cold room with her barely functional eyes, she realized she’s not in her dorm. Or in her home.

“…”

The lump covered by the grey blanket on her left moving up and down in a sluggishly pace. She unwrapped herself extra carefully not to make sound more than 10 decibel. But the room is too poor lit when she left the mattress to find her blouse. So after 10 minutes of groping on the dark, she gave up and head to the wardrobe – the only thing she remembered where’s it located – and grabbed pair of boxer and random t-shirt.

Thank God her jeans are still visible enough to be discovered. Tiptoeing, she snatched her shoes, phone, and purse in one go before reaching the door, slowly pulled it and slipped herself in less than 30 cm opening, closed it really slowly in an attempt to not produce any noise that might wake up the owner of the house.

“Good morning, Princess,” her heart dropped to the ground and Taemin just raised his mug to salute her, successfully making her failed miserably to avoid the walk of shame parade, “Going somewhere?”

“Can you lower your voice?”

“Why do I need to tone down my voice in my own house? Do I look like a thief?”

“Ssstt! You might wake up everyone, you idiot!”

“The only one that hasn’t woken up is my brother behind that door. I already feed Eve and my mom already went to the market and back.”

“Your Mom’s home?!”

“Why wouldn’t she?” he laughs since he knew why she screamed and more because Gwiboon’s terrorized face is too funny, triggers him to mess with her even further, “I wonder what happened last night that makes both of you woke up so late. My brother didn’t throw a party inside his room, did he?”

“Lee Taemin..”

“Maybe horse riding? You know when someone sit on the top and move up and down, back and forth… “

Her face is now more crimson than ripe tomato.

“…on the track. But we don’t have horse so it’s impossible. Or midnight work out? Yeah, I guess so, my brother works out like crazy lately.”

The smile plastered on his face knocked her down without Taemin even tried so hard.

“Can you be adult for once and stop shouting?”

“Is this what you called shouting?”

“Cut it off before your Mom heard anything!”

“She’s busy cooking, she won’t hear shit even you’re moaning.”

He sent her a wink, built a nausea feeling on her tummy, “Thanks for the notes! I’m leaving!”

“Please, you know that the kitchen in our house is next to the front door right?”

Gwiboon stopped right away after only three steps.

“So when you’re on your way, don’t forget to say hi to my Mom.”

“Fuck.”

He finished his coffee and chuckles at her, “Why don’t you join us for brunch?”

What kind of idea is that? Sharing the dining table on Saturday morning with someone’s Mom that has no idea what happened behind her son’s door last night? And without taking shower? Make up?! Oh, hell no!

“No one’s care you already take a shower or not, this is Saturday morning, for God’s sake. But if you refuse to walk with me to the dining table, you can just go back to my brother’s room,” now he leaned on the wall, arms folded with his empty mug hangs at his finger, “And wait until my Mom kick that door to ask him for brunch and maybe you as well since you’re inside. How about that?”

“There’s no way your mother found me inside your brother’s room!”

“Why not? She knows you’re here anyway.”

“What?!”

“Taemin! Wake your brother and his girlfriend up! Get in here three of you before this chicken get cold! it’s not my style to serve frozen food to a guest in my house!”

Gwiboon looks like a stray puppy who waits for her death sentence when Taemin raised his brows as if he’s saying ‘I told you’.

“What should I do?!”

“Go back to that filthy room, drag my brother’s ass out, and have a really nice brunch with us. As easy as that. Besides…”

“Besides what?”

“Besides, my brother wouldn’t be pleased knowing you wandering around the city.. you know.., senza underwear.”

She covered her chest with her purse in instant and ran to the door at the end of hallway while cursing inside her head.

“I’ll see you both soon!”

She slammed the door behind her doesn’t even care whether it’s polite enough to do in other’s property.

“Why so loud in the morning?” lazy voice came from the far right of the room, Jinki sat on the mattress without anything covering his torso, bed hair all jolted here and there, try to collect all his soul, eyes squinted to Gwiboon’s direction, “Is that my t-shirt?”

***

Part 7.

HI PEOPLE I AM BACK! I am sorry for neglecting this series for a really really really long time God’s know how. This is unedited, so if there are so many mistake, I apologize. The grad school is taking all my energy. I’m supposed to work for museum research now but I just too tired to think about building design analysis. How are you peeps?! Any comment any question about this, just let me know! Hopefully, I’m going to be more often to update! Lots of love from Italy! Enjoy! XOXO

[whifferdills]

idk if you're still doing fic requests, but i've had this half-formed idea kicking around in my head and i trust you'd be able to bring it to life: 12 builds an inspector gadget style dildo/sex toy machine thing. i don't know what else would happen (like i said: half-formed) but that seems like it'd be a fun fic. alternatively, maybe another Kate Lethbridge/12 one because that pairing doesn't get nearly enough attention.

ooh, i’ve refined it a bit more if you’re at all interested: Clara asked him to build one and he gets more excited about the gadgets than the dildo, and ends up being hilariously unusable. but also sexy? idk; i trust what you come up with.            

So You Want to Build a Sex Machine12/Clara, not explicit but still risque, comedy mostly, ~1k words

(read on Ao3 instead)

Here’s what you’ll need.

1.

Considerations: materials, feasibility, semantics, ethics, use-case scenarios, mechanics both internal and external. The fulfillment of desire, what ‘want’ means; how to create it, or find it; friction. Erotic as a poorly-translated word from a language you do not speak and that your ship will not speak on your behalf.

2.

Google searches:

sexual requirements of the average human

sexual requirements of the unusual human

sex toy personality quiz

Metallica

how can i know what she wants without asking what she wants

3.

The three ‘R’s: Research, Research, Research.

3A

An hour spent watching videos of anonymous amateur fucking and masturbation.

3B

Two minutes spent with your hand wrapped experimentally around what you’d let someone assume was a cock, if anyone were around to notice. Three minutes with your right thumb pressed into the spot just below your rib cage, where your key is still lodged. You feel nothing, and an aching empty sort of wrongness, in that order.

3C

Five hours spent watching videos of people unboxing new dildo shipments. It’s satisfying, watching them crack open the packaging and methodically assess the contents,

4.

Plans. I know it seems weird, to plan ahead of time, but trust me on this.

Four-One

Two mood boards, one on the ship - in a private room tucked far away - with magazine clippings taped to a dry erase board, and one on Pinterest that is followed immediately by a user named KinkyDave17. Hey there, Kinky Dave.

Four-Two

Fifty rough concept sketches, loose and easy. One drawing of Mr. Blobby holding a sign reading “There is no such thing as ethical consumption under capitalism” (it’d seemed funny at the time). Ten selected and elaborated upon; five chosen and explored with attention to detail. Four mugs of tea, two of which are immediately forgotten and eventually absorbed back into the timestuff of the ship.

Four-Three

One sketch, and fifty variations. The implication and execution of multiple penetrative devices. Orifices, modularity. Texture, color, the minutiae of hydraulics. Desire diagrammed. Both mood boards gradually evolve into evidence that Sammy Hagar is a fixed event in time and space. The Pinterest board is immediately followed by GuitarDave1975. Hey, Guitar Dave.

Four-Four

One variation, ten life-size mock-ups. Cannibalize parts from automobiles and electric pianos. Use similarly-shaped objects as stand-ins for dildos. Create a Catherine wheel of bananas. Remember, belatedly, that that’s probably not how sex works. Take a mental note of the texture and firmness of the bananas anyway. Eat one. Eat four more, and regret it instantly. Thrust, vibration, pressure, response, haptic feedback and precision stimulation. Turn the motor on and watch it spin as you eat a sixth banana.

5.

On the mood board in your ship, tape a picture of her over Sammy Hagar so it looks she has Sammy Hagar’s body, or that Sammy Hagar has her face. Resist the sudden impulse to punch the dry erase board. Resist the constant impulse to do something sentimental. Do it anyway. Say something that pretends to be mean, like your human pastimes are ridiculous at best or it’s just an interesting engineering problem, that’s all. Touch the picture of her face, or Sammy Hagar’s face, touch the picture of the face gently and try to think positively about the ten failed attempts littering the room. Eleven, the eleven failed attempts. Or is it twelve, now?

6.

Immediately realize it’s been Eddie Van Halen all along. Spend an hour arguing in the comments section of a YouTube video with a user named, simply, Dave. We meet again, Dave.

7.

Punch the whiteboard, delete the Pinterest account. Sit down on the middle of the floor with a cup of tea. Make a mental list of all the times you can recall her making a face or a noise or a motion, an indication that there was something in her body you only partially recognize:

When you’d had your hand inside her, knuckle-deep, fingers crooked

The time it took for the red mark to show after you bit the skin on her neck, just under her ear

Not sure but it was a Tuesday local time and you were on your knees

8.

why not ask her, Dave will type. or just fuck her lol. Pause. Type back, shut it you sorry excuse for an internet avatar i never liked you anyway. Turn off your personal computation device with a degree of petty, misdirected anger. You will still be on the floor, at this point. Stretch your legs out and then lay down and press the palm of your right hand to the spot just under your rib cage where your key still is, where it’ll always be, where it’s throbbed inside you since before you left home.

9.

Ask her. Ask her, ask her, stammering and fumbling. Make sure it’s a Tuesday local time. You aren’t on your knees but you might as well be. Ask her what she wants.

And she’ll say, you, and she’ll laugh, but not in a mean-spirited way. Pull out your diagrams, your lists from your pockets. Put them back.

Say No, I mean specifically, in terms of the specific thing. Make a gesture that implies fucking and also hopefully how you understand and accept and regret your inadequacy in this area.

You, she’ll say again.

But for when you’re not there, or you’re there and you can’t, or you can but you’re not enough. What does she want? What’s better than you, what’s the ideal?

Don’t you get it yet? she’ll ask.

From here, futures splinter. It could go any way, there is a near-infinite set of possibilities. But if you take her hand and stay, it’ll be one of the good ones.

10.

Let her lead you to her bedroom on the ship, where she feels safe. Let her hold you. Admit you spent the better part of two days, local time, inventing her a sex machine. She’ll roll her eyes and say I’ve got it covered, but thanks I guess, gesturing to her proudly-displayed collection of dildos and vibrators and a fair few things you’ve never even seen before, despite at least three Googles. You nod and feel a certain awe come over you.

11.

Guide her hand to your belly, the spot just below your rib cage. Feel your key move inside you. Try not to cry.

Go down on your knees; it worked once before.

12.

Later, return to the Van Halen fan forum and ask Dave if he’s David Lee Roth, and if so, is he a fixed temporal event. He won’t respond.

[knight-elkwarden]

Tagged by @ratchet-says-i-needed-that, I’ve never been tagged before this makes me so happy aaaaah

Name: Myriam

Nickname: I don’t really have one? I mean some people just shorten my name to Mym, but I had a friend that liked to call me Miam and Marian just to mess with me. I also have a friend that occasionally calls me Glitch due to my habit of fucking up words.

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Height: I actually don’t freaking know

Sexual Orientation: I also don’t know

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff, apparently?

Favorite Color: Cyan, or any kind of blue in general.

Favorite Animals: Elk, Caribou, Manta Ray, Chickadee, Tresher Shark

Average Hours of Sleep: 6-7

Cat of Dog Person: Caaaat, though I also like dogs.

Favorite Fictional Character: Wheeljack

Number of Blankets: Two, if I’m freezing, three. They’re always on the floor when I wake up though....

Current Favorite Singer/band: Green Day, I also freaking love Toundra.

Dream Trip: Hawaii? I don’t really know, haven’t thought about it. I’d just really like to visit Hawaii at some point in my life.

Dream job: Animator

When was this blog created?: In September I think?

Current Number of Followers: 20

When did your blog reach it’s peak?: That stupid, ridiculous, freaking Starjack drawing oh my god. If I knew that people would actually like that horrible sketch I would of spent more than an hour on it.

What made you decide to make a Tumblr?: A friend said that I should make a Tumblr so I can share my art.

I’m too fucking shy to tag anyone I’m sorry.

[funface2]

Dave Chappelle Doesn’t Need To Punch Down – BuzzFeed News

reader

In his occasionally funny new Netflix special, Chappelle continues to make anti-trans and victim-blaming jokes. Why can’t he strive to be more thoughtful?

By

Tomi Obaro

Tomi Obaro BuzzFeed News Reporter

Posted on August 27, 2019, at 6:43 p.m. ET

Netflix / Via screenshot

Dave Chappelle in his new Netflix special, Sticks & Stones.

What’s the most embarrassing public statement you’ve ever made that you’ve had to walk back? As a Sagittarius and a former conservative evangelical Christian — and quite a zealous one — I have plenty.

I won’t regale you with all of them, but certainly one of my top 10 is when I logged on to Facebook dot com in the year of our Lord, 2009. Michael Jackson had just died, and my Facebook feed was disturbingly lacking in sympathetic words of sorrow. One girl whom I went to high school with posted a status about how she didn’t understand why people were so upset about his death — he was “a gross pedophile.”

I was in a vulnerable place. The high school I went to was full of white people who liked to listen to Dave Matthews Band and ask me whether I tanned. I had spent hours in a fugue state watching videos of Jackson when he was a lanky teenager, wiggling his sequined hips in the “Rock With You” music video, his skin still the color of a coconut husk. He still had that wide, broad, and beautiful nose that looked like my nose (and that I too had once hated).

I don’t remember exactly what I wrote under that girl’s status. It was something mean and cutting, and I definitely went on about how he had been acquitted. She responded by saying that swooping in to comment on the post of a random classmate I wasn’t even friends with in real life to defend Jackson was proof of how ridiculous I was being. Touché. I promptly unfriended her and reminded myself to never get into Facebook arguments; they were a black hole.

I thought of that time, and that current of righteous anger, as I watched Dave Chappelle’s latest Netflix stand-up special, Sticks & Stones, which came out this week and has been predictably pilloried for its dismissal of sexual assault victims and anti-trans jokes. Chappelle proudly confesses as much early on in the special: “I’m what’s known on the streets as a victim-blamer.”

He defends Jackson, conceding that even if the two men who came forward in HBO’s documentary special Leaving Neverland earlier this year were telling the truth, it would be an honor to be molested by a musical legend: “I know more than half the people in this room have been molested in their lives. But it wasn’t no goddamn Michael Jackson, was it? This kid got his dick sucked by the King of Pop! All we get is awkward Thanksgivings for the rest of our lives.”

Chappelle still wants it both ways. He is willing to address criticisms of his earlier sets that were more flagrantly, lazily anti-trans, but not actually apologize or admit to changing his mind or express any meaningful empathy.

It’s the kind of purposefully ludicrous statement that’s designed to provoke, of course — it’s not even funny so much as shocking. You hear the audience gasp. (But the loudest boos of the whole night are reserved for when Chappelle jokes about how there’s no such thing as good 36-year-old pussy, which is the punchline to an R. Kelly bit. It’s telling that you can hear an audible exhale when Chappelle concedes that Kelly probably did rape his alleged teenage victims, even though he throws Surviving R. Kelly documentary filmmaker Dream Hampton under the bus to make that point.)

“I’m sorry, ladies, I’ve got a fucking #MeToo headache,” Chappelle complains. “This is the worst time ever to be a celebrity. Everyone’s doomed,” He defends Louis C.K., freely admitting that he’s biased as he’s friends with the guy. “They even got poor Kevin Hart,” Chappelle says. He describes Hart’s 2011 tweet about smashing his hypothetically gay son’s head with a dollhouse as “obviously” a joke. That’s before he launches into a whole spiel about “the unspoken rule of show business,” which “is that you are never, ever allowed to upset the alphabet people” — those people being “the Ls and the Gs and the Bs and the Ts.”

At this point, we’re reentering a familiar cycle: Chappelle releases a special on Netflix, he says something incendiary, it’s quoted back to him in a headline, and Chappelle reacts to the criticism in another Netflix special.

But Sticks & Stones feels distinct in that it encapsulates Chappelle’s paradoxical urges. You could say he’s doubling down, as some critics have written, but that’s not quite right. It’s a low, low bar, but some of the more truly vile anti-trans stuff has been excised from this recorded special. (It was filmed in Atlanta in 2017, two weeks before his run of sold-out Radio City Music Hall shows, so maybe he had time to reconsider the “man-pussy” jokes.)

But Chappelle still wants it both ways. He is willing to address criticisms of his earlier sets that were more flagrantly, lazily anti-trans, but not actually apologize or admit to changing his mind or express any meaningful empathy. In his 2017 special, Equanimity, he talks about receiving a letter from a white trans fan who criticized his transphobia, using the remark to essentially make more tired anti-trans jokes (and it turns out some of the details of the bit were highly embellished). And in a surprise epilogue to Sticks & Stones, he tells another story about Daphne, a trans woman who attended several of his sets in San Francisco and laughed hard at every joke. Afterward, according to Chappelle, they chatted at the bar and Daphne thanked him for “normalizing transgenders.” The audience at Radio City Music Hall, where Chappelle told this story, applauds loudly. It’s cringe-inducing — such a blatantly cynical, familiar move out of the old “I have a marginalized friend, so I can make this joke” playbook. (When Louis C.K. joked about his black friends who have stood by him, I imagine he must have been talking about Chappelle.)

What is especially frustrating about Chappelle’s trans jokes is how he essentially acts as if black trans people don’t exist, and as if black trans women in particular aren’t more likely to be victims of violence. His truth-to-power comedy only works if he acts as though trans people and black people are wholly separate entities. It’s enough to make you want to tie Chappelle to a chair and force him to binge-watch episodes of Pose.

Even if you ignored all the offensive jokes — which is a big ask, so I understand if you can’t — you’re still left with comedy specials that aren’t even particularly funny.

It’s enough to make you want to tie Chappelle to a chair and force him to binge-watch episodes of Pose.

And it grates, of course, because he has been shattering the mythos constructed around him ever since he famously walked away from a reported $50 million deal with Comedy Central in 2005. Dave Chappelle! The funniest man in America! If he had lived in Midwestern bliss for the rest of his life, his legend as one of our most hilarious, biting, silly, essential stand-up comics alive would have stayed intact — even if he did always have a few sets and sketches that were stupid and sexist and racist. But now he’s just like any other rich, middle-aged has-been, bravely taking on “cancel culture,” even as he continues to nab $60 million deals with Netflix.

As Vulture music critic Craig Jenkins recently tweeted, this cycle of jokes, outrage, jokes, repeat doesn’t actually affect Chappelle’s bottom line. He’s still a millionaire — and one who’s still getting booked, at that. So what’s really to be gained from punching down on the most vulnerable? Despite his fearmongering about celebrities falling victim to “cancel culture,” it’s not like Chappelle has actually been shunned. It has merely become less cool to say that you’re a Dave Chappelle fan at certain parties in Brooklyn.

As a beleaguered fan (like “I once spent more money than I had in my checking account to split a cab ride with a girl I didn’t know to watch him perform in a suburb of Chicago and then got stranded in said suburb because there were no cabs going back to the city”–level fan); I want to believe that Chapelle is more thoughtful than he’s been acting lately. And even in Sticks & Stones, which is better than the last two specials, there are kernels of funniness. He still makes me laugh out loud. He can still tell a story with surreal, spellbinding relish — his bit on buying a gun is hilarious. His face is so expressive; his eyes twinkle with impish glee. The way he holds his cigarette and leans forward, looking like a mischievous little boy, shocked that he can get away with it.

But he’s not a little boy. He’s a grown-ass man. And it feels like he keeps making anti-trans and victim-blaming jokes just because he can, which, sure. But why not strive to be more interesting, more original, more thoughtful?

Toward the end of the special, before the epilogue, Chappelle appears to make a conciliatory gesture: “If you’re in a group that I make fun of, just know that I see myself in you. I make fun of poor white people because I was once poor.” I waited for him to say what he saw in trans people, in victims of sexual assault, or in gay men. But he never said anything. ●

CORRECTION

Aug. 28, 2019, at 00:38 AM

Kevin Hart’s tweet about breaking a dollhouse over his son’s head was in 2011. An earlier version of this post misstated the year.

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9 Reasons Why You Should Avoid Mall Jewelry Stores

https://www.wjdexclusives.com/blog/9-reasons-why-you-should-avoid-mall-jewelry-stores/

9 Reasons Why You Should Avoid Mall Jewelry Stores

You think heading to a local mall will be the most efficient way to do it. We know. It’s tempting. You want to buy a special piece of jewelry for someone you care about.  After all, there are usually at least two jewelry stores in a mall and you know you’ll be able to visit them within a few hours.

But trust us. You don’t want to do it!  Not before you read this article.

You see, there are a lot of very good reasons why buying jewelry at your local mall isn’t a good investment. In fact, many times it will be a waste of time AND money. Not to mention the disappointment your loved one will feel when, for instance, the ring you so lovingly gave her had two stones fall out within weeks of putting it on her finger.

She’s going to feel badly for you and you’re going to feel angry. “I spent two months salary and this is what I get?!” 

We definitely don’t want that to happen to you.

So we’ll get you educated in a jiffy. Here are 9 reasons why you don’t want to buy a diamond ring from a jewelry mall store:

Reason #1: Mall jewelry stores mostly sell low quality, mass produced rings.

Most mall jewelers are huge chains or department stores. Think of them as the “Walmart” of jewelry companies. They offer mass-produced jewelry that is quickly (and not skillfully) made.

They have to make thousands of identical rings to supply all their stores. And to cut costs they manufacture in China and India. These workers are not highly trained, nor are they highly paid. And as is the case in many factories in Asia, many of these workers are children – so, no wonder the quality is low. And, ethically, this rubs many of us the wrong way.

Do you really want these people making your engagement ring?

To save a few bucks they also hollow out the metal in order to make the ring as light as possible. This saves precious metal. If they can save $100 a ring ‒ and they crank out 5,000 rings a month ‒ that is a hefty chunk of change.

But wouldn’t you want that extra metal in your ring so the diamonds are properly held in place, and the shank won’t easily break? Of course you would.

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We are very choosy about quality. We simply don’t do business with manufacturers who produce shoddy and/or lightweight jewelry. Our good name is attached to the ring you buy. We don’t take it lightly, and we lifetime warranty on all our jewelry. Read more about lifetime warranty here.

Reason #2: Their diamonds do not sparkle much and typically are “cloudy.”

One of the joys of owning a diamond ring is watching how it sparkles and gleams so beautifully in the light. People often will hold up their rings in the sunlight, just to enjoy those gorgeous rays of light reflect off this exquisite gem. The reason diamond rings from a mall often don’t have much brilliance is that their diamonds have a lot of inclusions (imperfections inside the diamond.) These inclusions block the light from entering the stone. Because of this the light cannot bounce off the diamond facets and return through the top of the diamond, which creates brilliance. Thus, there’s not much life to them. They are dull and lifeless.

Buying a diamond engagement ring is a big investment. Don’t you want your diamonds to light up and sparkle? We believe we already know the answer – yes!

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We wouldn’t give ugly cloudy diamonds to our loved one. Nor would we wear one. And we only sell what we personally would wear or give. Trust us. We think you’ll agree that our selection of diamond rings is far superior in brightness than anything you’ll find in a mall.

Reason #3: Their diamonds are off-color, usually grayish colored.

The closest I can describe it is the color of “dirty dishwater.”

When you purchase a diamond ring, you want the “WOW” factor! Not the “Blah” factor!

The diamond color grade scale starts at D, which is colorless. Most high quality engagement rings will be made with F-H color grade diamonds, which is colorless to near colorless. This means they look “white”.

However, mall stores offer rings that are made cheaply, using cheap materials.

A light, grayish-colored diamond costs about half as much as a colorless diamond. Jewelry chain stores buy these and pass them off to their customers. When the entire store sells this low level of quality stones, it’s hard for you to compare them when that’s the only selection you find (and when store after store presents the same offering).

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We won’t sell a diamond that we ourselves would not be delighted to own. And we sure as heck wouldn’t want to own a dirty gray diamond. Ugh. Talk about the “Blah” factor. We’d rather offer you the “WOW” factor you’re looking for!

Reason #4: They do not sell G.I.A. lab-graded certified diamonds.

Every industry has their own organization that many consider the preferred source for defining standards and benchmarks. For the diamond industry, that is the Gemological Institute of America or G.I.A. Most jewelry stores in the mall (even big brand names), do not sell diamonds that are independently lab-graded by G.I.A., which is recognized as the most accurate grading lab in the world. If they do offer a “certified” diamond, it’s usually by some no-name grading lab such as GSI, GCAL, GAI. The problem is these other labs over-grade the diamond’s color and clarity by 1 to 3 grades!  The stores sell you a 1ct, G color, SI1 clarity diamond. But you end up with an I to J color and I1 clarity stone. This is unethical! Don’t become a victim of this unscrupulous practice. Buy a G.I.A. graded diamond. They don’t inflate the quality.

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We also sell G.I.A. and E.G.L. USA lab-graded diamonds. We will not offer you “house graded” or an over-graded diamond from one of those no-name labs. We’re confident you’ll be very pleased with our high-quality diamonds.

Reason #5: Cookie cutter designs.

Take a stroll in the mall and pop in the jewelry stores. Look at their engagement rings. After hitting two or three stores, do you notice a pattern?  That’s right… all the rings look identical! Do you really want the same engagement ring as your neighbor? Or the same one the lady in front of you at the grocery store has on her finger? Just imagine how it feels to hear someone say, “Oh, I’ve got that same ring!”  You have unique tastes. Make sure your ring reflects your own personal style. Choosing a ring is an enjoyable experience and when you feel like you’ve met your own “match,” you want to make sure it’s special.

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: Our designer engagement rings include many unique styles. And let me tell you, these rings are just drop-dead gorgeous. You must see them for yourself to believe it.

  Reason #6: Want a custom design?

Say you see a ring in a style magazine that a celebrity is wearing. It inspires you to create your own one of a kind ring. Or you have an idea for your dream ring.  Guess what? The mall stores can’t make it for you. Customized consumer items have become very popular over the past decade. More and more people want something that has their own “special something” added to it. Jewelry is no different. If you had a choice between wearing what everyone else is wearing… or wear something that is different and expresses your own unique personality, which would you choose?

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We love helping you with custom designed rings! Although it’s a bit more work for us, it’s worth it. You get exactly what you want and we feel honored to help bring your vision to life. We first take time to sit down with you and listen to your ideas. Then we sketch the design. From there we create a CAD design showing you the ring from different angles. You are guaranteed a one-of-a-kind design that is an original – just like you.

  Reason #7: Fake sales and inflated prices.

Did you know the mall jewelers have a sale every single day? You’ve seen the 50% – 70% off sale signs in their store. But here’s the truth. It’s fake.  The prices are deliberately marked up sky-high so they can slash the price by 70%. They never intended to sell it at the “regular” price. It’s a scam. But it works. Don’t let it work on you. Seriously, have you ever seen a car, a camper trailer or a nice camera (just some random things folks buy) on sale for 70% off? Ridiculous.

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: You don’t have to worry about missing out on one of our 70% off sales ‒ because we don’t have them. Of course in order to keep our doors open, we have to make a profit. But we won’t mark the jewelry up astronomically and gouge people, or have fake sales. You get high-quality, beautiful jewelry at the right price.

  Reason #8: They are salespeople, not gemologists.

Most of the mall jewelry stores have commission-driven sales employees. Typically, they have only a few months (or possibly a couple of years) in the jewelry industry. The employee turnover rate is high. And their gemology education is almost non-existent. Do you really want this type of person guiding you in the purchase of a valuable diamond? If you conduct even a small amount of research on diamonds, there’s a very good chance you’ll know more than the average salesperson at a mall jewelry store. Go to a professional, instead. It’s a better investment of your time and money.

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: Also, each team member has extensive gemology education and experience. Our expert team will help you get the best diamond at the best price.

Reason #9: Mall stores have killer overhead. And it’s passed on to you.

You would be amazed at what a mall charges for rent. It’s astronomical. In addition, the stores have to pay the mall ownership a percentage of every dollar that is sold in the store. (Kind of explains all those “sales,” doesn’t it?) Don’t forget the money spent on those expensive television commercials ‒ which cost millions. Add in the fancy 4-color catalogs and brochures they produce monthly or quarterly. There’s also the managerial costs for the organization — salaries for the store managers, area managers, district managers, etc. Oh, don’t forget the shareholders have to make a profit too! So there are so many expenses that the price of jewelry is bloated in order to pay for everything. Do you really want your hard-earned dollars going toward high overhead costs? Or getting the best diamond ring for your money?

The WJD Exclusives Advantage: We have a boutique office located in NYC. We have a small staff. We also don’t have shareholders, upper management or any of the other nonsense. We don’t spend money on television ads or fancy catalogs. Because of these very strategic choices for how we run our business, we work on much tighter margins getting you a much better deal. Bottom line: you get a lot more bang for your buck.

Still unsure whether you should avoid those jewelry stores in the mall? Read these horrible experiences of people buying diamond jewelry from Kay’s, Zales and other mall stores:

www.TheKnot.com/issues-with-kay-jewelers www.ConsumerAffairs.com/Zales www.WeddingBee/topic/avoid-all-zales-at-all-costs www.ConsumerAffairs.com/Fred-Meyer-Jewelers www.TrustPilot.com/review/Samuel-Jewelers www.PissedConsumer.com/Daniels-Jewelers

Now that you know, isn’t it time you browse our fine jewelry? The only way to experience “The WJD Exclusives Advantage” is to see it for yourself. We can’t wait to show you our stunning jewelry!