#might post some sketches so people will guilt me into finishing them

[bucketsofsalt]

nothing gets me going like two men in a shounen manga who are never going to kiss

[flannelepicurean]

Reblogging this as a person who is both A Creative, and managing chronic mental health stuff, BECAUSE, I have come to a place where I can work and create without inspiration. And THAT'S the real secret sauce, sort of.

Creativity gets called "talent" a lot, especially by people who see a finished product that they can't make themselves. "You're so talented! I wish I could do that!" Well... so do we. Often.

The thing about "creating" something is that it's a ton of work, and that's something that "talented" misses the mark on. We don't just sit down and BOOM! MASTERPIECE! We plod through the blood, sweat, and many gallons of tears it takes to put in a bazillion hours to then spend days, weeks, months, YEARS agonizing over every little thing on the way to having Created. And then we often sit there, feeling wrung-out, wondering how we're ever going to do it again, while also suffering mightily about the fact that some people might not like it. Might call it bad, even.

We tend to get very personally invested in our work, and the reactions to our work, because it's part of us. We absolutely ARE artists, writers, and many other kinds of Creatives. It's something that screams from inside our bones pretty much 24/7, because it's something we ARE, whether we're actually DOING it or not. There should be no guilt in NOT creating, and in resting, because it doesn't make you any less a writer, an artist, whatever you may be. Even if you never create another thing again, you'll still be driven to and fulfilled by creating. It's what you ARE. Nobody can take that from you.

And. Creating is WORK. We all know that, because we feel wrung-out and spent and exhausted when we burst forth a Work in a frenzy and then look around wondering if we can ever do it again.

But here's the thing. "Talent" lies to us. It says that Creating is a thing you just DO. When the inspiration strikes, there's a frenzy to snag the tail of the lightning bolt and hold on for dear life. What has worked for me, is to build a generator.

I've learned how to throw things away. I've learned how to save them for later. I've learned to work in drips and drabs. I've learned how to do Something, even if it's not the thing I planned on working on. I do three shitty sketches to find my way to planning the thing I want to draw, and that's warm-up, bay-beeeee. I sat and Did Something, and it's a wastebasket step toward the final product. And that's good! It's GOOD to stop and say, "Wait. This isn't going the way I'd hoped. I'm starting over." It's GOOD to say, "Nah, that ain't it. I'm gonna step away and come back in a couple days, or a week, and see if setting fresh eyes on it helps." IT DOES. TRUST ME.

Do SOMETHING, with a regularity that makes sense for you. Doodle something stupid on a napkin. Make a sheet of crosshatching. Test out the gradients of all your pencils, crayons, pastels, whatever. Swatch and catalog your markers.

Do SOMETHING. Pick a website or post that has decent one-page or five-minute journal prompts. Sit down and describe your breakfast, or have a fake text conversation with your favorite character, in a journal or a notebook or a cloud-based text thing, or just jot down one random thing that made you go, "Huh," today. Write yourself a note in the margins to capture the questions that run through your mind about a part you're stuck on.

It's practice. And THAT is SKILL-BUILDING. That's the generator.

Creativity takes SKILL. That is a thing you can grind at, every single day, for two to five minutes, to keep your mind and your tool-movers supple. That is a thing you can do sets of reps with. People call it the "butt in chair method," or "write even one sentence," and many other things. But do it without the goal to Produce driving you; do it in the spirit of practicing. Because that's what it is.

Talent is the part of you that makes the connections from observation and experience to finished product. The actual WORK, the production of the things, is practice, practice, PRACTICE, captured with intention and direction.

You don't have to make a masterpiece; you don't even have to work on the Thing you're working on. You don't have to do anything at all, and again, REST IS IMPORTANT. But if you do SOMETHING, it keeps you limber. And it becomes a habit. That is what will see you through the times when inspiration fails to strike. That is the generator -- when you can sit down and do the work when you don't actually feel like doing it. When you can grind without it feeling like a slog. When you can tweak and meddle and explore and TRY THINGS, without fear, when you're not inspired in the least.

There is no "just" about it. It's not "JUST sit down and do the thing." It's TRY. It's practice. And when it becomes a habit, you've harnessed the lightning. And it will actually make the masterpieces better, because you'll have more daring, and less stress. It's not about productivity, it's about quality of life. And when you can sit down and Do The Thing, with the regularity that makes sense for you, even if you don't want to, it really does improve life immensely.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk! 😂

[xx-kroww-xx]

small rant re: “I don’t read WIPs”

for those of you who refuse to read unfinished fics because you don’t want to be disappointed or want to read it all at once: I hope you realize that lack of engagement from readers during the process of posting is part of what kills WIPs.

Sure, I write for myself first and foremost, but the reason I write FANFIC is because I want to engage with the FAN COMMUNITY. I can’t speak for all authors, obviously, but getting comments—and not just praise, but questions, thoughts, stream of consciousness rambles—are what keep me going as a writer. I want to hear what you think, and I want to talk about it. I try to respond to comments when at all possible, and every single non-hate comment makes my day. I’m sure someone out there is rolling their eyes and thinking this is just attention-seeking, but you know what? It is. Seeking attention and engagement from others is a critical part of our lives and it is not inherently bad. Part of being in a fan community is engaging with other fans—it’s the lifeblood of our community. Reblogging, replying, tagging, commenting, are all what fandom runs on.

And that includes WIPs. The logic is simple. If you want a fic to be finished? TELL THE AUTHOR THAT YOU LIKE IT. Getting that feedback makes it INFINITELY more likely that the author will be motivated to do so. Read, comment, ask questions if you have them. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. A simple “I liked it!” goes a LONG way. I can’t overstate how important this is if you want authors to continue writing. Sure, some authors write out an entire longfic before they start posting, and that’s fine. But that’s not how everyone operates.

Imagine if an artist posted a sketch and got zero engagement because everyone who saw it thought “oh, I’m waiting for it to be finished” before reblogging or commenting. The artist might conclude that their piece wasn’t good or popular and simply scrap the whole thing. Sure, you could say that’s a lack of intrinsic motivation, but my point is that it doesn’t feel good to put something out there and get no response. Imagine putting on a performance and hearing nothing but crickets from the audience. You’d probably be confused, and a little upset. You’d wonder what they were thinking. Did they think it was so bad it wasn’t even worth engaging with? Feedback is a critical part of making art of any type—drawing, writing, performing, or otherwise.

Art is a social process. We write fics because we want people to read them. We write fics as a way of engaging with other fans. If you like a fic’s concept but won’t read it because it’s unfinished, you’re shooting yourself in the foot and making it that much less likely that it will actually be finished.

I’m not saying this to guilt anyone. You’re not obligated to read or comment on fics if you don’t want to. You’re not obligated to do anything. But fandom runs on engagement, and if you want to keep that alive, it’s important to participate.

[zc-undertale]

Spamton's [Anger Management Service] (image described in Alt Text)

If you beat Spamton (normal form) with violence instead of taking the deal, he implies that he lets people pay to beat him up... 😰

This Werewerewire takes out his anger on Spamton monthly to avoid lashing out at his family. He overdid it a bit this time, so he added extra pay to cover Spamton's medical bills (plus a bit more, out of guilt).

Not a healthy dynamic, but going by his canon nature, Spamton would rather take advantage of a harmful situation than try to fix it, if he can benefit from it. He desperately needs the money, & having regular "customers" would give him at least SOME bit of stability in his stressful, uncertain life.

He's already suffering, so hey, a little more that he can actually get paid for is no [Big Deal], right? 😢

(I just GOTTA finish my WIPs, so I'm gonna try to content myself with rough sketches rather than only clean crisp lines. No more unattainable perfectionism! Phew!)

---

((Theory reference: Video clip of violently defeating Spamton. He lists very specific violent acts that Kris didn't do, which seems like his usual traumatic projection. Included is "yanking their noses," likely having been done to him since he has such a long nose. Yet he's mostly upset from not getting PAID for this particular beating. 😞))

Video clip description under the cut.

Video description: In-game clip from Deltarune Chapter 2. Kris lands the final blow with the FIGHT command, violently ending the regular Spamton battle. Spamton berates Kris with the following monologue:

HEY!!! DIDN'T YOU EVER HEAR THE PHRASE, Make Money, Not War?

HOW'S AN INNOCENT GUY LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO Rip People Off

WHEN KIDS LIKE YOU ARE Beating People Up,

Spitting IN THEIR EYES, THROWING SAND IN THEIR Face,

Stomping ON THEIR TOES, YANKING THEIR Noses,

AND NOT EVEN GIVING THEM A SINGLE CENT FOR IT!?

YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE ALL THAT EARLIER!

AND BEEN THE FIRST TO OWN MY Commemorative Ring.

TOO BAD! SEE YOU KID!"

Spamton walks away.

End of video description.

(Note: If your screen reader has issues with all those capital letters, like spelling the words instead of saying them, please tell me, and I'll edit my post. I recently got rid of the brackets in case they might cause issues.)

[saltminerising]

Running An Art Shop With Minimal Crying 101

Hey y’all, not sure what compelled me to write this Now but I wanted to put together a list of helpful ‘good business practice’ tips for artists who want to start selling commissions on FR and want to build up a good reputation and make bank. I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable throwing this on the forums personally so here you go, y’all have to look at my stupidly long possibly helpful brutally honest post cuz I don’t know where else to put this.

I’ve been doing art on FR since I was a young teenager in 2015 and through that time I’ve definitely learned some lessons the hard way. I’ve taken on more than I could handle, I’ve let commissions rot for months because I got overwhelmed… you know what I mean. Here’s some of what I’ve learned over the years that’s helped me run a consistently successful art shop for well over a year now.

I don’t have a tumblr and I don’t know how to add a ‘read more’ to a submission, so happy scrolling <3 I apologize for causing some people a very minor inconvenience

-Do not take prepayment for either more than three commissions at a time, or more than the number of commissions you think you can finish within a month or two, whichever is smaller. This is especially true if you’re like me and you have ADHD. Trust me, the more commissions people have already paid for you have piled up in your to-do list, even if they’d only take you 20 minutes each, you will get more overwhelmed and discouraged and people will wonder why it’s taking you so long. Even if you aren’t getting concerned PMs, a lot of people are just too anxious or polite to ask for updates. (On the flipside, if you commissioned someone and haven’t gotten any word/updates in a while, you’re not in the wrong to ask how things are going and when you can expect an update.)

-Full payment upfront is something I definitely recommend for smaller pieces (headshots, sketches, etc) you can finish in one sitting. However- if you’re doing a ref sheet, a rendered fullbody, etc, and you’ll be spending multiple sessions on the piece and getting feedback for it multiple times- split it up, take half upfront and half either after the sketch is approved, or before you send them the final unwatermarked version. I’ve done dozens of commissions like this and never had a problem, personally. There’s a low chance of a customer backing out on you if you’ve already started and sent WIPs because, y’know, sunk cost, and on the other hand it is reassuring to customers (especially if your shop is new) that if you drop off the map, they paid $20 upfront and got at least a sketch, instead of paying $40 upfront for an unfinished piece.

-In the same vein: if you’re doing a large piece like a rendered fullbody, ref sheet, etc, more communication is always better than less! I always stay on the safe side here. Some people will tell you they just want you to go apeshit and do whatever you think will look cool, other people might have much more specific ideas of what they want and how closely your artwork needs to match the image of their character in their head. Send them the sketch and ask them if they want any changes. Send them the lineart and ask if it looks good. If you’re working on a time-consuming painting that will take you weeks to finish, please please please, communicate! Send updates! Your customers will feel a lot less anxious about how long you’re taking if you keep them posted (plus this is just a personal thing but I love seeing peoples’ artistic process, it sparks joy!!)

-If, once again, you’re like me and stuff like painted fullbodies take you so much longer than other commission types- the worst thing you can do is underprice. Let’s say a detailed, shaded dragon fullbody takes you, for instance, 8 hours, maybe longer because you get burned out and can’t finish it in just one sitting, but you don’t think people will buy an $80/8kg fullbody. Do not lower the price you think your art is worth. If fullbodies take you really long compared to other art, or you get unmotivated, just… don’t offer painted fullbodies, or scenes with multiple characters, or whatever. If there’s a form of art you’re capable of creating but it’s faster, more fun, and gets you more money to do smaller things, just do more smaller commissions instead of taking the big ones. This one was a lifesaver for me.

-Once again in the same vein: It is okay to say no. Just because you are physically/artistically capable of drawing a detailed scene of multiple dragons with complex apparel, doesn’t mean you won’t get burnt out or bored. For me, larger pieces take exponentially longer because I just get bored and don’t want to work on them anymore. If someone asks if you can draw something that will require so much of your personal time and effort to go into a single piece, just say no. Sometimes I’ll say yes to some big commissions because I think the character is cool and inspiring and I want to draw them; otherwise, I will admit, I’ve said no to big commissions because I personally found the character boring as hell (though I wouldn’t phrase it that way). And that’s ok! 

-If you are going to be really busy in the near future, stop taking commissions. You have finals? Don’t say “sorry if things take forever, I have finals”… just don’t take the commissions while you’re busy. If you have too much on your plate, commissions will just stress you out more, and nobody likes to draw motivated by stress. There’s nothing wrong with temporarily pausing your art shop. Put your mental health first. And if you aren’t able to get commissions done on a regular basis because of mental health, or because you don’t give enough of a shit about other peoples’ characters: don’t do commissions. I don’t mean this in a bad way; I’ve been in that spot before and it’ll just cause more stress and guilt than it’s worth. 

-NO PARAGRAPHS. That sounds hypocritical of me writing this lol but do not put long paragraphs in your art shop, ever. I promise nobody will read it. Put your rules, and any other information, in bullet points that are one or two lines. Keep your rules clear, simple, unambiguous and short, or everyone will ignore it and I won’t blame them. Put titles and subtitles wherever you can. If you have a block of text longer than probably five lines, it will be ignored by most people. I have decided not to buy art from people because I didn’t want to have to dig through blocks of text for information.

….so yeah I think that’s about all I can think of at the moment. time to sit back and get yelled at for not being able to shut the fuck up and get to the point lol, hope you (yes you) have a great day c:

[joonsrack]

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY: 

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi​ for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult. 

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

+

 His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen. 

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be. 

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out. 

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature. 

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average. 

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.) 

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now? 

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

+

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung. 

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

+

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule. 

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them. 

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition. 

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces. 

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move. 

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing– 

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video. 

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

 “A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here. 

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand. 

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle. 

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?) 

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces. 

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid. 

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming. 

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder. 

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard. 

+

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

 Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am    ur crazy

9:40 am    CRAZY

9:40 am    This is hilarious

9:41 am    That’s why i love u

9:41 am    That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am    Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its  owner

10:26 am  All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am  It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am  omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am  you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am  You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

+

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too. 

It’s 100% his dick. 

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after. 

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far? 

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town. 

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick.  And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night. 

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

+

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

+

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him. 

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive. 

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster. 

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.” 

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch. 

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.” 

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

+

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?” 

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping. 

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.” 

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them. 

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

+

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much? 

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

+

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore. 

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints. 

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt. 

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

+

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

 Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm    I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm    can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

                                       4:59 pm    You sent a picture

 5:01 pm   Yeah it’s really similar 

5:01 pm    Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop. 

5:02 pm     He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold. 

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.  

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture.  “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence. 

“Thank you. Is it yours?” 

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.” 

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?” 

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

+

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

+

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him. 

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants. 

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing. 

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness. 

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself. 

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

+

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking. 

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him. 

The solution is right underneath his nose; 

His penis. It was always his penis. 

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

 Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm  ‘ Suck on that’

 Hyungie:

6:45 pm    why are you asking me idk

 Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm   “ Long lost lover”

 He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone. 

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

 Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm  “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm   Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm   that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm   Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm   after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm   Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm   that’s all

7:17 pm   Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm  idk

9:56 pm  im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm  you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm  im really proud of it

 So not much more help on that side either.

+

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece. 

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

   Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay  

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

  “ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition. 

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

+

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day. 

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head. 

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing. 

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work. 

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there. 

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too. 

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

 Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm   Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm   I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm   I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm   But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm   Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm    he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm   Nice dick by the way

 He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

+

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder. 

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions. 

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation. 

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment. 

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in. 

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

+

 2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo. 

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung. 

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon. 

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time. 

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt. 

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap. 

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly. 

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words. 

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?” 

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can. 

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care. 

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face. 

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

+

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love. 

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

+

 Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience. 

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved. 

 He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks. 

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants. 

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.” 

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up. 

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees. 

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy. 

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it. 

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not. 

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally. 

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?” 

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it. 

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

 After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin. 

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back. 

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber. 

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass. 

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot. 

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him. 

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold. 

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.” 

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again. 

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.” 

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.” 

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken. 

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison. 

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–” 

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed. 

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

[tabletop-nightmare]

i'd love to share more of my art, but i'm going through a mental block right now. i have some tutorials saved, but nothing turns out decent because i don't learn art on a schedule. i'm entirely self-taught, so i don't know how to stick to anything :(

you got any advice?

Sorry it's been a day I had to sleep on this question and think up some answers. Mental blocks and artist block sucks ass and there's very little way around it but I'll give you tips and such that have at least helped me. This was a list I threw together at 2 in the morning so excuse it for not being the most organized. I'll admit this first one I just discovered in a bit of an epiphany. I've been watching a lot of Inked episodes on youtube and in this particular one an artist talks about loving the process not the finished piece due to the fact that tattoos leave with the client, but I felt it fit with art in general. It can be hard and it's a hard to shift into loving the process instead of the final piece because we live in a society (tm) that puts emphasis on what we create for every one else to see. But learning to love what you make whether or not it's what you wish people to see is a good way to remind yourself that art is a journey and you're constantly learning. This next one can be tricky, and I am not a pro at it either, but seriously, if you make a piece of art, post it. It doesn't matter if it's here on on Discord amongst friends. I went into a deep depression and stopped posting art anywhere, and once I started feeling like making art again I first posted it to Discord. Friends are great first steps because they are that positive boost you might need in order to push yourself to post your art somewhere else. I know my doodles and art pieces aren't going to get any love here on Tumblr but by pushing myself to post those things I just feel productive and have the energy to make bigger pieces and be proud of them. I myself was self taught for a lot of years, and even if you are in school to learn you are still technically teaching yourself. Art is tricky like that. So these may seem obvious but references are you're friend, and references of things you enjoy!! Be inspired by your references; when it comes to digital art I've been inspired a lot by religous paintings and Mucha's art nouveau pieces, like to the point you can find the piece I used as main reference. And that's ok, I think there is a huge pressure on artists to be original and it's a huge weight especially if you struggle with mentally making a picture (like I do) and such. Much of my traditional art is gorey fight the patriarchy pinups where I take famous Elvgren pinups and put my own twist on them. But I do it because I love the feeling it provokes in me, not anybody else. This is going to always be a polarized opinion, but seriously trace things. I have just now started to not feel the huge guilt of tracing, because when you are tired, when you don't want to put all of the mental capacity into building from the ground up, trace. It helps strengthen your muscle memory and leaves you feeling good about what you created out of inspiration of anothers work. Disclaimer obviously, a lot of the works I use as reference/tracing are older pieces. I change them enough to become my own and I always credit the work. And none of it is for monetary gain, but it gives me the boost to go on and make my own pieces. We all know the planning part of art sucks (even sometimes the sketching part) so being able to jump that hurdle for the most part can really give your brain the rest it needs. And finally the shitty awful but true answer, draw stuff that is boring and you hate. The one and only thing I learned from art school is that if you push yourself to do things you may find boring, you'll be more likely to learn from the process then care about the final image. And then to push yourself extra hard, really get serious with it. Some of my best traditional work is stuff that when I sat down I was not excited to do. But now I can put words to it which is: I fell in love with the process. All I can really do is give you anecdotal evidence so I'll leave you with this: The best painting I have ever done in my life was a abstract that then sold for 350 dollars, the only art piece to be sold in my entire schools art show. And I hated hated abstract art before

then, I didn't get it I thought it was all black squares same color kinda deals but, when I sat down terrified of what dumb shit I was about to make I just learned to let that stress go and used it as a way out of my normal everyday arting. And it is the best piece I have ever made.

TLDR; Find things that resonate with you, find things that don't, do both.

[kurinoot]

[day 7] seven ethereal portraits | akaashi keiji

-> he was a piece of art, so you tried to make an art of him on valentines’ day, but unfortunately, you won’t be able to finish it all

pairing: akaashi x reader

themes: fluff with a bit of angst (I think?), post-timeskip, art student!reader

wc: 1.6k

note: so far, akaashi’s my fave fic here personally uwu (a pretty fic for the pretty setter uwu) bc he makes me feel fuzzy things :(

“Moving onto the seventh and final painting...”, you mutter as you were finally done with the sixth one for your series of paintings for your boyfriend, setting aside the newly finished work aside to settle and dry completely as you have been planning on giving him seven paintings that you started a week before Valentines’ Day.

Just as I planned… you thought.

Grabbing a fresh blank canvas, you started sketching on the last canvas as you let your hand dawdle the pencil around, your mind distancing itself from reality. You felt the heaviness on your shoulders before shaking your head, humming to distract yourself as you progressed through your sketch.

“Y/N, It’s time to eat!”, you hear Keiji’s faint voice from the other side of your studio, as the dishes clanged against the table. The faint aroma of your favourite dish entices you, pulling you back to reality as you compelled yourself to continue with the painting.

“It’s okay Keiji! You can eat without me! I just need to finish this for art school!”, you say loud enough for him to hear as you continue sketching his portrait. Your vision started to blur as you continued sketching while you forcibly hummed, your mind slowly autopiloting your hand as it made quick strokes of Keiji’s features in your mind, spraying water on the paint for your next work.

Akaashi, on the other side, could only look at your studio door as he sighed. It has been like this if you started working on your art projects, locking yourself in your studio for days, eating one meal a day through several restless nights; but your habits only worsened ever since you’ve started with your series of paintings for him this week.

He approached the door, giving a few knocks. “You’ve been like this for the entire week. You need to eat and rest, Y/N.” he crooned as he placed his ear against the door, hoping to, at least, hear your pencil strokes against the paper. “Y/N?” He called out your name once again.

Your weary eyes gazed in awe at the rough sketch. “Beautiful...” You mumbled as your finger traced Akaashi’s features on the paper before hearing his voice at your door, calling your name. You placed the canvas by the easel, covering it with a sheet as you went out of your room. Akaashi sensed your presence as you teetered slowly, haggard and dirtied with paint and charcoal all over you.

“Y/N… I know you’re very passionate about your art, but I’m worried about you. You really need to eat and rest.”, he scolds you with a sharp tone as he sees your being from head to toe, quickly coming to your side with his arm around your waist and a hand to steady you.

You scoffed as you let go of him, waving with one hand as you poured another cup of coffee, “This is nothing, Keiji. I’m okay!”

You went back to your studio with a cup of coffee in one hand, settling it down on a nearby table. You slapped yourself, waking yourself up as you started to set up your color palette, putting up small dollops of acrylic paint on your palette, mixing a few colors. You grab a couple of brushes, setting it up as you started painting your last valentines painting for your boyfriend.

For Keiji…, you thought to yourself as a smile forms on your lips.

You felt the fatigue start catching up on you once again as you felt the weight of your eyelids and the throbbing on your head. You brush them off as you continue painting,  pushing yourself to finish it as soon as possible so as to catch up to Valentines’ Day tomorrow. You pause for a bit to check your phone only to see that it was already 11:30 in the evening.

You sigh, “It’s already that late?”.

You dismiss all thoughts of resting as you desperately tried to finish your painting, creating swirls and swathes of different colors as your brush stroked each minute in detail. You cling onto your paintbrush as you fight off any telltale signs of fatigue, gulping on the now cold cup of coffee you had made a while earlier to keep yourself awake at this point in time.

Or so you thought.

As time passes by, your head swayed as your vision became unbearingly blurred as you struggled with your brush strokes, smudging at unwanted areas. You brush it off, struggling to continue further as you now feel the soreness of your muscles. You massage your temples, trying to relieve the increasing aching pain in your head to no avail.

Akaashi knocks on the door of your art room, trying to check up on you. “Y/N, as much as I support you and your art endeavors, you need to sleep now.”

No reply.

He felt a chill run up to his spine, but a slight hope lighted his eyes as he found your door unlocked. “Y/N? It’s already late, time to—”

He felt his heart drop as his eyes landed on you, unconscious on the floor, a paintbrush within your grip. His mind went blank as he frantically rushed to your side, sweeping the strands of your hair away from your pale face, feeling your temperature spiking against his cool hand. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, lifting you with all of his strength, immediately running out of your shared apartment to the streets.

Y/N! Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest when you need to?

His mind screamed your name repeatedly as he desperately ran through the streets, the people frantically giving way as he carried you in his arms. His eyes looked around the area as he saw a familiar light emitting, entering the emergency area with you in hand. The nurses rushed to him as they pushed a hospital bed, inquiring Akaashi as they ran through the hall, pushing your bed. Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as his mind reels of different outcomes in every possible way.

The medical staff checked up on you as one of the nurses stopped Akaashi in his path. “She might have to stay here for a couple of days or a few weeks just to check on possible signs in the future. For now, if it’s okay with you sir you can pack up a few things for her and for you.”

“Thank you so much!”, Akaashi bows in gratitude as he pulls out his editor business card, “Here’s my number, if anything happens to her.”

Akaashi hurried back to the apartment, scrambling for his keys as he unlocks the door. He immediately makes his way to your shared bedroom, opting to pack up immediately as he pulls out a black duffel bag out of the cabinet and rushes back to his and your closet, picking. He continuously packs up necessities as he feels the vibration of his phone in his pocket.

“I thought I’ve already approved of it—”, Akaashi grumbles about the possibility of work only to find a message from an unknown number.

‘Good evening! This is from the medical reception; we would just like to inform you that L/N Y/N is in Room 1205. You can come for some paperwork to be signed with.’

Please… be alright Y/N..., he prays in mind, worried for you.

He finally zips the bag with a huff after finally settling with some comfortable clothes for you both as well as comfortable clothes for work as he will most likely come home to the comforts of the hospital to check on you still.

With the duffel bag in hand, he rushed to the entrance, although stopped his tracks as he passed by your studio. A feeling of guilt washes over Akaashi as his feet walk towards the door, stopping for a moment as he takes a breather before working up the courage to open the door, despite the memories and the sight of you lying unconscious still fresh in his mind, to the sight of an unfinished canvas painting as well as different portraits of what seemed to be a stranger. Looking closely at your unfinished business, he could only know and look so much as he sees your unattended palette, the paints threatening to dry. He grasps your spilled cup of coffee on the floor, albeit cold.

His eyes wander back to the paintings aside, walking to it as he removes and wipes his glasses for a second before looking closely as he notices a slip of paper sticking on the top of one that says ‘For Keiji. Happy Valentines’ Day! I love you so much!’ which only warms his heart. Looking at it as well as the other paintings, dawning on him that you were creating these paintings of him for him for the special day.

He gazed back at the unfinished canvas, noticing the rough sketches and the smudged areas from your hand. He clutches his chest in borderline pain as he realizes that you were making a painting of the two of you as a tear threatens to fall from one of his eyes, breaking his usual calm composure.

His eyes quickly picked the brush and palette from the floor, not long before grabbing his phone with one hand, replying back to the hospital.

I’ll be there later in the morning. Until then, please take care of her., his thumb hits the send, shoving his phone into his pocket. A smile forms on his lips as he eyes the looming unfinished canvas before him, gripping your paintbrush in hand.

“I’ll finish this painting of us, Y/N.”

back to valentines masterlist

[macaronnya]

So I just saw the announcement about the EN server shutting down or at least dicontinued (hopefully just for now) and I might just burst into tears 🥲 I want to put my thoughts or rather feelings of the journy up until now on here to come down but maybe also as some form of comfort for anyone who needs it? It's very long and might have some broken english as it's not my first language so do keep it in mind please 😅

Anyways, I started A3! last year on march 7th because I saw a youtube video of people cosplaying Sakuya and Sakyo. At taht point, I already knew of A3! somewhere in my distant memories back when it was JP only. I decided to try out the game since I was getting bored of my current mobile games and the few reviews I could find of it were relatively positive. I had no idea just what a big part of my life this game was about the become 🤧

Btw I'm listening to some A3! songs right now, specifically Sakuya's 2nd character song, and it's not helping me 😢 So at the time, lockdown just started 2 days ago, which left me with a lot of time playing it and, I kid you not, I gulfed the main story down like it was the last slice of cake at home. I have 2 siblings. I think I finished it in a week or so despite it being only unlockable through leveling up, and if my memory serves me right, you need to be around lvl 75 to unlock all 4 episodes. As one can see, I was VERY invested in the story. It was just so....nice? I don't know how to exactly describe it but I was surprised by how likable everyone was. Of course I didn't hold such strong feelings for everyone back then as I do now but I was intrigued enough back then of nearly everyone, which is kind of rather rare in such types of games, no? At least for me it is, although I haven't played terribly a lot (Love Live, MLQC, Mystic Messenger).

I really like how the story actually continues through the events and how it alternated between stories exploring certain characters more (show events) and stories focusing on just them having fun. Getting to know everyone bit by bit and seeing how everyone grows closer to each other, not only within their respective troupes but the whole theater, makes me really all warm and fuzzy and it's found family, what more could you want?

Also, I really like Izumi, our dear MC 🥰 Even though she's supposed to be our self-insert, I found myself really enjoying reading her thoughts, observing her reactions to other characters' shenanigans (like her 'I do not see' to the members plan of faking their identity to bail Citron out lol) and just....her personality. Trying not to digress here but she has a lot more personality than other MCs in these joseimuke games and it makes her interactions with others not only bearable but even enjoyable. I'm not saying that this is what a perfect MC looks like or that she's superior to bland self-inserts. After all, it depends on the story, gameplay and other things. It's just a nice bonus I'm very grateful for. I mean, I got really emotional when Izumi performed with the other staff members all of the plays the actors have put out so far for the first anniversary. Her realizing she gained a new dream for her lost one just really took my heart, broke it in thousand pieces and then mended it again.

I also love A3! songs ❤ I did wonder how they would work in this franchise since it's not about idols but actors, though I guess there was nothing to worry about. I really like the duets because it's always a different duo and hearing them singing together, harmonizing with each other, complimenting each other, just fills me with undescribable joy. Of course the songs also slap pretty much every time. Even by limiting my options to 1 troupe, I still wouldn't be able to pick only one favourite (I like the majority of Winter's song tho, like Shoutai is just 🤌 and my sibling blasted Unmasked non-stop so I can't get it outta my head anymore). Gosh, I was so excited for 'Double Solitaire' since it would complete trilogy of the Hyodosakas singing together. I was really looking forward to getting all the songs and I was even saving up for Summer Troupe's 6th play.

If I had to describe the game A3! in one word, it'd be "charming". Coming to game itself, there are so many little quirks, that on their own aren't anything groundbreaking or big but together give the game its own flair. Live 2D is pretty common to see nowdays in games because it brings the characters to life through movements like 3D models. But I think A3! is able to illustrate it just as well, if not even better with their 2D sprites. Citron moonwalked by flipping the image over and sliding across the screen, Hisoka appeared out of nowhere by coming from above the screen, they do a little jump when they're happy, they go down a bit when they're sad. And that's just things with their whole sprite. The little drops when Tsuzuru finds himself in an awkward situation or is worried, the little note when Sakuya is happy, the hearts when Kazunari is lowkey flirting with Izumi, it's so cute! Or Omi's O.O face, Taichi's crying face (the usual one, not his face when he cried out of guilt of betraying Mankai), Yuki's done expression, H O M A R E AHA! They each have at least one personalized expression and also quote. Can you hear Kazunari's Yoropiko~☆, Citron's humming, Taichi's loud ass whining and scream of terror, Tsumugi's awkawrd laugh? It's brimming with life.

But also the UI (?how it looks) is joyful. The main screen's background cascading shapes changes depending from which Troupe your current character is from, the loading screen has sakura petals and a bird, the colors are very bright and saturated fitting to the overall color palette of the whole game, the little notebook during practice showing all the necessary infomation and a little sketch by the characters. It's just really charming.

As frustrating as it was, not getting halloween Tsuzuru after 110 pulls or Valentine Omi after 120, it was my first time ever understanding why gachas are called hellholes. Through my strong connections to the characters, their cards automatically appealed to me more. But the art is also so good???? Azuma is always looking flawless obviously but Omi's unbloomed Wolf card, where he is standing in the sunset looking at his camera or Kazunari's Shinobi card, unbloomed all concentrated on his panting and bloomed all shiny smiling like the fireworks in the background? Breathtaking everytime. I also appreciate it not needing multiple copies to unlock the whole backstage story.

I think I'm slowly running out of things to say, which might be good for whoever managed to come this far. I have to say though, A3! helped me through the pandemic. Being a perfect distraction to the world's chaos and more importantly my crushing schoolwork and worries for personal future. I'm a very pessimistic person but seeing the characters overcoming their hardships through the help of their to-be "family" and just being happy doing trouble, gave me a little hope and light for a bit every day. I came to cherish everyone, even those I like the least. I haven't felt like this since Mystic Messenger, which was also a game, that helped me through a difficult time. I can only wish to a shooting star, that it's not the end for the EN Server yet. While yes, the JP server is thriving and I could just switch to reading fantranslation, through my experience, my enjoyment considerably sinks playing like that and I wish to fully enjoy A3!.

Anyways thanks for reading (maybe again). Sorry for all the possible errors on the way here. I'm writing everything directly without too much thought. If you want, you can also share your experiences in the comments. It's always nice to share good memories with others.

Edit: I accidentally posted it already but I wasn't actually done 😓 When I said I had a lot to let out, I meant A LOT

[avauntus]

2020 favs: (short) fic recs

I am stealing this idea from @macgyver-sheriff, who has no clue who I am, but whose post I saw go across my dash. Thank you! 👋

Would you like some recs for the holiday season? - I too would like to share love for my favorite things I read that were written this year! <3

I’m going to do this in two parts - the short fics (10k or less, generally one-shot), and another post for the long or series fics I loved this year (it’s 2020, I figure we can use too much of a good thing?)

( @staidwaters - I’m ‘disqualifying’ your works because I’m biased, sorry! Look away! Unless you want recs!) 

"Congratulations, Get Rich" (9,238 words) by Attila (The Untamed - modern AU)

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, which means Wei Wuxian has to get all of his bad decisions out of the way tonight.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Mianmian are all so screamingly perfect as modern versions of themselves in this, and it is KNOCK DOWN HILLARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is just a screaming queer disaster (affectionate) - as he should be.

Excerpt:

After a long beat, Lan Xichen sinks gracelessly into the chair Lan Wangji had been sitting in earlier. “I just want to be absolutely clear,” he says delicately, “that you are currently under the impression that my brother has no romantic feelings for you. That is what you’re saying to me right now, yes?”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling desperately confused. “Obviously? Why?”

“Because at least one of you is very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out who,” Lan Xichen tells him, sounding distracted. It’s the rudest thing Wei Wuxian has ever heard him say, and his mouth drops open slightly.

“caved to the careless” (6,708 words) by ilgaksu (The Untamed/MDZS - Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen)

Love is a choice you make - like this, and this, and this.

Have you ever read a writer whose work is so distinctly itself that you can feel yourself slipping in time even as you keep going? That’s not very articulate, but it’s the best way I can describe everything of ilgaksu’s I’ve read. Their fics are the same emotional register as having the breath knocked out of you after a fall. This was the first one I read, and I think it ends well-- with what Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen find along the path-- but it’s still heavy. Discussions of canon-compliant character death and grief/mourning here.

Excerpt:

He pauses. Until this very moment, he was unsure who to ask for. He has heard the rumours of the Yiling Patriarch’s ongoing residence here, about Zewu-jun’s seclusion: he’s dead, but even the dead are not free from gossip. But he remembers a courtyard, nearly two decades ago, and the weight of eyes some might have called angry in their intensity. He remembers those same eyes, and how for the wear of the intervening years, they had kept the same essence: longing, yearning, a kind of small unspoken grief.

Song Lan had a dream once. A dream of a sect, bound not by blood, but by a shared belief in the right path. So many things are only an inheritance: shame is one of them.  

Love is a choice. Love is a choice, and you choose until you can’t.

“I am here,” he decides, carving the words into the dirt, every stroke of every character resolute, “To meet with Hanguang-jun. Please show this one the way to go.”  

“Green River Running” (8,169 words) by @rain-hat (Love in the Moonlight - post-canon AU)

5+1: Kim Byeong-yeon returns to the land of the living.

I skimmed through Love in the Moonlight during my quarantine summer (distinguishable from my “quarantine spring” or “quarantine fall” only by fireworks), and immediately upon finishing, thought: “Psht, they killed off their best character.” And then, something happened that never happens -- I went on ao3 and found the exact thing I was looking for, written far  better than I could have imagined. Kim Byeong-yeon is such a quiet yet powerfully subversive presence and the progression here is so masterfully done. This is true of all of rainhat’s work’s I’ve read, but this is a fine example-- I really treasure the warm humanism of them.

Excerpt:

People needed helping hands even more than they needed sympathetic ears, though. Over the last year, Hong Gyeong-rae and Byeong-yeon had built houses and planted crops side by side; negotiating with moneylenders here, helping small-folk secure their stores against bandits there. There was nothing courtly about Byeong-yeon’s capacity for labour, or his expectation of reward. Wherever he went, he worked from dawn to dusk, ate the food he was given, and slept under a roof if he was offered one.

It suited him, Hong Gyeong-rae thought, even though there was something outlandish about his gentle speech and palace manners in the midst of it all. But to behave in any other way would be untrue to his upbringing; nor was he the sort of man to whom it would occur to try. And after all, most people liked to be treated with courtesy; it did not come across as mockery from this solemn, severely dressed young man, who seemed to find no task too big or too small. Hong Gyeong-rae had seen him argue tax law with local councillors and stand up to highwaymen armed with nothing but a knife and staff. But he watched cooking pots for women who had to run to the fields to tide over the day’s labour, too; he wrote letters for them, and tolerated their fractious children and spoon-fed their bedridden elders, if that was what was called for.

“The Veritable Records of King Taejo: Year 2, Entry 208“ (9,857 words) by @sadviper (My Country: the New Age - Nam Seon-ho & Hwang Sung-rok slice-of-life)

Hwang Sung-rok eats his way to the bottom of a real estate scam, and Seon-ho and Yeon help (a little).

No one is out here doing it like SadViper. This is technically part of a series, but they can all be read separately. I did not realize I needed to see more of Nam Seon-ho in all his “type-A government official glory” until Viper started sketching him out for us, and as a bonus, we get to see Yeon, and Sung-rok as the world’s surliest caretaker (but don’t call him that). I have an authorial fallacy where I always think stories have to have some grand “plot” -- a “Maltese Falcon” to pull the reader along-- the genius of Viper’s work is she shows us exactly how interesting and important the day-by-day tiny choices and connections we make are, with an impeccable background of historical research to ground you in the setting.

Excerpt:

Nam Seon-ho was his master now. He was a strange one. He was a traitor, for helping the escaped Liaodong soldiers, but not, because he managed to wiggle his way back into Yi Seong-gye’s favor and was now a sixth-ranked inspector with the privilege of having personal audiences with the King. He was temperamental and belligerent from being the son of a slave mother and a lifetime subject of Lord Nam’s fantastic parenting philosophy. He was afflicted with perpetual guilt. And he was also one of the hardest working and most desperate people Sung-rok had ever known.

It was a terrible combination. He was not merely a disaster waiting to happen, but a disaster perambulating on two legs at the edge of a chasm. If Sung-rok intended to stay in service for long, he needed to find a way to cool down some of Seon-ho’s intensity, even though admittedly, it was what drew him to Seon-ho in the first place.

Thoughts like these plagued Sung-rok for a while. It was one thing to know a person; it was quite another thing to try to change them.

“Orison” (4,975 words) by @gravelghosts​ (aeli_kindara) (Supernatural 15x18 coda)

Cas says, I love you.

So! This rips my heart out, every time. All the times Dean imagines himself together with Cas...and then he imagines himself, if not happy, then thriving.

Jack: “What is the point...if everyone I care about is going to leave?”

Castiel: “The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you... When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Excerpt:

The thing Dean tries to do is: listen.

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just — being. It’s in just saying it, Cas tells him, and Dean’s whole heart is screaming, No, but he shuts his mouth. He listens. He listens like his life fucking depends on it, which it does, in more ways than one.

“Sky Full of Song” (6,632 words) by @drivingsideways (Supernatural, finale 15x20 fix-it, Dean/Cas)

Or: The One in which Cas ghosted Dean.

Look. Look. If Cas(tiel) can yank Dean Winchester out of Hell, celestial-scream at him not once but twice, burn out a woman’s eyes like an utter clown before thinking “Huh, an Earthly vessel, guess that’s not just bullshit, then,” and when they finally work it out, Dean greets them with a knife to the chest and THEN they’ll spend twelve years misunderstanding each other and bickering, you had better believe these two are going to be disasters even in Heaven. Drivingsideways gives us all of that dynamic, with the found family of Jack and Mary as facilitators, and the happy resolution, which of course includes a true form “roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.” <3

Excerpt:

The thing is, Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel obligated.

Dean has a streak of self-sacrifice that's as wide as the Caspian Sea, and Castiel doesn't want to be any more of a chore or obligation than they have been to Dean for all the long years of their—brotherhood.

Castiel had shocked Dean, to the core of him, with their confession, and Castiel had seen the swirling confusion, the fear, the panic, the shit what do I say, what do I do—how do I stop him—

So, no, Castiel would not be paying a visit anytime soon.

Of course, if Dean evinced an interest in meeting them, then Castiel would not stay away.

Castiel isn't that cruel.

(They have, on occasion, been exactly that cruel, but they are trying to outgrow it.)

Dean is still their friend.

Dean knows how to reach them, if he wants to.

(see? disasters. haha)

“The Rough” (3,267 words) by anactoria (Supernatural, finale -15x20- ‘fix-it’)

 Heaven can absolutely fucking wait.

Rec’ed for the concept more than the style (this is dialogue-heavy, as a lot of 15x20 fix-its tend towards), but I *love* this course-correction: After kicking around Heaven, Dean and Cas return to Earth to take their place as urban legends among the hunter community. Just for a while.

Excerpt:

But it isn’t life. That’s the thing. It’s awesome, but it isn’t life; life’s a hard, painful, infuriating mess, and Dean only got halfway through his own, and he feels cheated. For all he held it together for Sammy at the end, for all he tried to take Cas’s big moment-of-happiness speech on board, he feels cheated.

There’s supposed to be peace at the end. When you’re done.

Dean wasn’t done.

[canarydraws]

3, 8, 18, for Brook. 12 and 37 for Leland. 13 for Shalamit. 34 and A for Ossia (this is a lot so don't draw them all or you'll die.)

Yea I wanna get to this ask quickly and it’d prob take me a bit to make 4 good sketches. If the asks were sent to me divided by characters I totally would draw them all and space out their postings. But I don’t want just one to wait in limbo forever lol. I still want people to be able to associate faces with my characters tho so I’m gonna share some old portraits of them instead.

3 How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Thinking and listening to music! Depending on the day and the hours she works Brook tends to go to bed fairly early so as soon as she gets home she chooses to unwind by putting on some music as she makes dinner and keeps it on until it’s time to sleep. If she’s working late nights then she just passes out as soon as she gets home.

8 What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

As some of you may know her childhood was not normal lol. She was either surrounded by abusive authoritative figures or was left to take care of herself. In the beginning though when she was surrounded by stronger figures that didn’t have her best interests at heart she was told to stop being afraid, to be stronger, to not be timid.

18 What embarrasses them?

Whenever someone might even suggest something brook does is unusual she gets super self-conscious. It sorta sends her down this spiral of “oh my god is that weird? Like supernatural weird? Did I do that in front of other people before??!?” Bonus points if it’s an actual supernatural creature pointing out her oddness (or similarities to the creature) because she hates being comparable to them.

(IIIIIIIIIIII don’t actually have any good pictures of her lol. But she’s cute. She’s 5”2 with iridescent dark hair and really dark blue eyes.)

12 How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

What an interesting question lmao. Leland is canonically a flexible bastard so I think it’d be difficult to find a place he couldn’t reach.

37 Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Leland has great memory already so if he was hired for something that looks like a quick job he might jot down some notes but keep all the important details in his head. If he’s hired to take out a bigger target however, and the job requires weeks I’d not months of research and preparation, Leland would take more dedicated notes. He’d end up with a folder with pages of notes about the client, the target, and possible means of taking them out. He’s not the most… organized though. His work desk is the counter in his kitchen and it’s a bit of a mess covered in old and new jobs, pictures, files he’d obtained from various resources, and written notes. Once he’s finished a job he puts everything away in one of those vanilla folders and keeps it in a stack in the corner. Then he makes a new mess for the latest job and the cycle repeats.

13 What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Shalamit loves to dress in red because it matches their hair. However I think if they were to wear a red dress cloak or robes the red would probably get too overwhelming with their already red hair and warm violet skin. If shalamit’s hair were shorter I think it’d work better just so their curtain of long hair won’t just blend in with the rest of their outfit. As their design is now I think they look quite nice in black because it makes their hair all the more striking.

(There’s also two versions of this character. One for dnd the other for my own creative world. Their personalities are the same tho)

34 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

It is very hard for Ossia to shake a sense of guilt. She already feels terrible for all the suffering in the world even if she is not personally at fault. She has a strong sense of responsibility and if something she did lead to terrible consequences it will take her some time to forgive herself or feel like she has made amends.

A) Why are you excited about this character?

She’s a bit poetic in design like a tragedy lol. She’s an interesting blend of dark and light traits and together they make this morally grey character who thinks she’s risen above her faults and does good while at the same time keeps lamenting about her natural state being evil and cruel. Her actual state of “goodness” is still very questionable as she can excuse needless murder if she believes it reduces the amount of pain in the world. Plus she gets premonitions about the future to a degree so I enjoy watching how much she fucks up while literally getting hints about the consequences.

(A wip I hadn’t finished yet)

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Work in Progress Wednesday

Creators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It’s also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what’s to come!

Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist’s sketch and let them know you can’t wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!

Feel free to repost this image!

 *

**

Hello all!  I’ve been feeling...well I’m not too sure honestly.  Writing has been a little weird these last few months weeks so I wanted to use this just as a way to motivate myself a little with what I’ve already come up with and hopefully, it will push me to write/finish some of those WIPs.  Be gentle these are still really rough ... and if I do get around to writing them I might change some stuff around...

There are so many different stories that I’ve started that I might never finish so I wanted them to live somewhere.  

There’s a few ShikaTema, SaiIno and one ChoKarui (also some starts to my Lemonade Series so be aware of titles/notes)

**I’ll update this as new ideas come about.  They will appear first in the post. 

Previews after the cut. 

Knots (Part 3 of “Ties that Bind Series”- ShikaTema, Suna Sibs)

“I’m worried, she’s really sick.”

“Maybe it's like ya know.  That time of the month.”  Kankuro’s voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You idiot.  You absolute moron.”  Temari's voice shot back through the layers of blankets. 

“I think she's okay.”

“Temari, are you okay?”  Gaara asked carefully.  

She nodded her head.  “I’m fine.  Everything is just fine.  Why do you ask?”

“Well you’ve been locked in your room for days now.  You haven’t snapped at anyone or called me stupid.  We’re getting concerned.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath seeing the worry clear in their eyes.

“Shikamaru proposed.”

Their expressions brightened.   “Temari! That’s great, congratulations!”

“We should be celebrating.”  Kankurou stared at his sister curiously.  Gaara was right.  Something was wrong.  “Why isn’t Nara here?”

“I couldn’t say yes.”

Their eyes shot wide open. “Temari?”

“Shikamaru needs to be in Konoha and I couldn’t leave you two and Suna.  Who am I if i’m not Temari of the Desert?”  She knew that she made the right decision.  She couldn’t just leave her brothers and Suna because of something as trivial as love right?  This was the right thing to do.  She assured herself but then why did her heart feel like it was tied up in knots?

*

**

Candles (SaiIno-One Shot)

The concept of birthdays had always been foreign to Sai.  He’d never learned the actual date of his birth and never realized that such days were cause for celebration.  So much of his past and the circumstances by which he’d become part of the Root were shrouded in darkness.  The one person that could tell him when his actual birthday was, was dead.

 There were little events that were celebrated in the Foundation.  Completion of missions, not dying on said missions were the two events in which he could remember “celebrating.”  Other than that there was little else that would be cause for celebration.

Once he started becoming more a part of the village he learned early on that birthdays were actually important milestones.  Whether they were small, intimate gatherings of close family and friends or large, elaborate events, birthdays were something to celebrate.  They were time markers and allowed the celebrant to reflect on all their past experiences and look forward to all the wonderful experiences that lie ahead.  Perhaps that was why birthdays were never celebrated.  No one in the Root had a clear memory of their past.  Each mission could be life or death so it was foolish to believe that there was a future to look forward to.  

Still, as he began to settle actual roots, and the path in which he wanted to walk a birthday seemed like an important element to have.  Everyone had a birthday, he deserved one too.  The actual date though was to be determined.  There were few actual dates that held any value so selecting a random one out of the year was difficult.  It also seemed strange to arbitrarily pick a date as well. 

“Ino?  I have a request.”

“Of course Sai, anything.”

“Would you mind sharing your birthday with me?”

“What?”

“I don’t know when my actual birthday is.  Such things weren’t considered important.  One day I’d like to find out but for now if you don’t mind I’d like to share my birthday with you.  It’s not something that we need to announce or even really recognize but I’d like to have a date, a number that I can put down.  I feel like the day I met you I was reborn in a sense.  That my real life started.  I can  understand if you don’t-”

*

**

Stolen (Multi Chap AU ShikaTema ):

Shikamaru watched her closely and saw the shift in her eyes.  Where she’d been terrified initially he noticed a kind of calm and peace.  He released the shadow binds around her wrists but sent more to surround her creating a maze of shadows and lines. 

“Don’t fear the shadows Temari.  Learn to dance amongst them.”

Temari with focused eyes and a determined spirit moved gracefully between the lines.  She landed in pockets of light and moved swiftly before she could become trapped.  He watched on enchanted as she leaped and moved effortlessly avoiding what he threw at her.  It was as though she was floating, gliding in the wind above the darkness.

*

**

Runways (Model AU ShikaTema):

Unrestrained raged swirled in Shikamaru’s normally soft brown eyes as he held Temari’s shaking body.  His glare was heavy on the cowering figure trembling on the floor. 

“My family will bury you.  I will make sure that you never work in this industry again.”

Temari was taken aback by the ice in his voice and all she wanted was for this night to be over and for life to return to normal. “Shikamaru...”  Temari’s voice quivered in a frighteningly unfamiliar way and his protective hold tightened.

“I’m sorry-” 

In spite of himself, Shikamaru laughed off the worthless attempt to quell his anger.  “It’s far too late for apologies.  I suggest that you leave now. That you make it so that no one remembers your name or face because by the time that I’m done you will wish that you never crossed a Nara.”

*

**

Stalemate (Mafia AU, ShikaTema)

Shikamaru’s midnight eyes surveyed the crash of sweaty bodies moving and pulsating to a heavy beat. He took a long drag of his cigarette overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and heavy bass. It wasn’t often that he made the trek out here often depending on his associates to check on their businesses.  His father told him though that it was important for the king to be seen by his people.  

For a while, his family had to operate in the shadows.  That was no longer the case.  The Naras, Akimichis, and Yamanaka’s ruled this area.  Government officials, police officers anyone who had “power” were all on their payroll.  Very few things happened in this city without them knowing.  Everyone knew who they were and they no longer tried to hide it.  

When he was younger he’d complained constantly that this was a drag. He never wanted to become the head of the Nara crime family.  It wasn’t his choice, it was his destiny.  Still, he grew into the role and had accomplished more than they’d ever dreamed. 

He didn’t delight in the benefits of being an infamous crime boss. The club was far too loud. The women who threw themselves at him were too troublesome. 

His eyes continued to scan the room before they fell upon one person his heart began to beat wildly. From where he stood he could tell she was a striking blonde but there was something different.  Something was drawing him towards her.  He studied her for a while.  Becoming increasingly frustrated as she flirted and smiled at the club patrons.  His hands clutched painfully around the balcony railing as he tried to keep his anger in check. 

He called his security detail over.

“The blonde bartender, bring her to my office.”

“Yes sir.” 

*

**

Protective Instincts (Mafia AU, SaiIno, Mafia Princess Ino, Bodyguard Sai *same universe as “Stalemate” ^)

The tension in the back of the SUV was suffocating.  The air heavy, anger rolling off of the man sitting next to her. 

“Sai...I-”  Ino began before being cut off.  

“Don’t, I’m barely holding it together right now.  I just need a minute.”

A beat of silence passed. “Are you mad at me?”  She pouted and despite how angry and upset he was Sai shook his head.  

“No, I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at your actions and the stupid risks you take but no, never at you.”  

Satisfied with his response and sensing that he was calmer Ino crawled into his lap settling her head against his chest.

He knew that he should push her away.  It wasn’t necessarily appropriate for her to be this familiar with him but she melted so perfectly against him. He felt whole when she was in his arms. 

“I’m sorry Sai, I should have told you.  I just wanted a regular fun, night out.”

“But you’re not a regular person.  You put yourself at risk.”

“Sai, it’s one of our clubs, nothing was going to happen.”

“I can’t take that chance, Princess.  I knew that I shouldn't have taken the night off.  The person on your guard tonight is fucking dead.”

Her eyes widened feeling guilt crash over her.  She still had to learn that her decisions had very real consequences.  “Sai, no.  Please, it’s not his fault.  I snuck out.  I manipulated and orchestrated the whole thing.  Please don’t take it out on him.”

“Ino.”

She forced his gaze to meet hers.  “I’ll deal with my dad if it gets to him. Please.”

“Fuck, fine.  He and I are going to have a talk for sure but that will be all.  I promise.”

Ino sighed in relief knowing that he’d keep his promise.  “Thank you.”

“Why did you take tonight off?  It’s not like you.”

He took a deep breath his fingers pushing back stray hairs away from her eyes.  “I just needed a break, Beautiful.  Clearly, it didn’t last long.  I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second.”

She relaxed into his chest.  “I like your eyes on me.”

*

**

Obscura (NSFW SaiIno- Lemonade Series) -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker 

Sai grinned as Ino moved into the next pose. She was a natural in front of the camera and seeing that smile always made him happy. 

He’d purchased the camera recently as an attempt to explore a new artistic medium. Especially now that he had memories worth capturing. Ino happily volunteered to be his subject. He was thankful that after this he’d have a whole set of photos of his Light. 

“Great job Beautiful these look incredible.” He complimented her drawing her into a kiss. 

“Thank you, Sai.”  She paused for a minute before her eyes lifted back to his a playful look in those baby blues. 

“I have an idea for a for pictures if you don’t mind.” 

He nodded excitedly about the prospect. He enjoyed any time that they shared together.  “Of course not Beautiful, whatever you’d like.  Let me just adjust these lights.” 

When he turned back around he was surprised to see that she’d removed her top and was now leaning forward her breasts heavy and exposed.  A mischievous smile across her lips.  

“Fuck.”  He breathed.  So she wanted those kinds of pictures.

*

**

Main Course (NSFW ChoKarui- Lemonade Series -Idea courtesy of @ promptmaker

“I made you all your favorite food and this is what you want to do instead.”  Karui teased Chouji her honey eyes glowing with anticipation.  

Chouji grinned as his mouth descended over her delicate neck.  “I think that you’re mistaken Sweetheart.  You are by far my favorite thing to eat.”  She could feel his grin against her skin.  

“Besides, if you didn’t want this to happen you would know better than to make yourself look so appetizing.”  He countered his hands grazing over the skin that the apron left exposed.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin her breathing coming out in short pants.  “Well, perhaps we should have dessert first.”

*

**

So that’s what we’ve got folks.  Actually even just making this post is inspiring me to finish/write!  Are there any that you’re interested in reading?  thank you for getting this far and for supporting me. 

[starshine583]

New Friends Ch. 17

Ch.1 / Ch. 16 / Ch. 18

“Guys, another picture came out!” Aurore exclaimed, clicking something on her phone.

The group leaned towards her to look at her screen. A picture of the akuma battle that took place yesterday popped up, showing Ladybug and Chat Noir being covered in a light green energy shield. 

“And they still don’t know where the shield’s coming from?” Wayhem asked curiously.

Aurore shook her head. “No. Alya’s pointed out that it’s the same power as Carapace, but we haven’t seen any extra heroes.”

Marinette and Felix shared a glance. It’s been a week since Bouclier’s picture flooded through the media. Since then, a few akumas have surfaced, and Buclier’s shield has proven useful. The people of Paris question where these random force fields come from, of course, but as long as the heroes are safe..

“There must be a reason they’re mysteriously keeping him hidden.” Kagami mused, taking a sip of her drink. 

Wayhem furrowed his eyebrows. “Him? How do you know it’s not a girl?”  

The group missed the teasing smirk Marinette threw Felix. 

“It could be. You never know.” Marinette shrugged. 

The blonde narrowed his eyes at her, but a smile ghosted his lips, prompting her grin to widen. They’d certainly grown closer over the week, talking together, fighting together. Marinette couldn’t deny how comforting his presence had become for her. Something about knowing someone had her back in and out of the suit, it was refreshing. 

And maybe more..

“Hey, does anyone know where Luka is? I thought he was meeting us here.” Aurore frowned, sitting up to scan the cafeteria.

Wayhem looked around as well. “I mean, he said he was gonna be here.”

Kagami simply took another bite of her food. “If he said he’ll be here, he’ll be here. We can wait.” 

~~~~~~

Nino blew out a sigh, leaning back in his chair to catch a glimpse of Marinette’s table. Lila was sitting between him and Alya, raving about her latest meeting with Prince Ali and their trip to the zoo. Honestly, he didn’t even listen to her anymore. She was all but background noise now.

He’d decided a few days ago to start investigating himself since Alya wouldn’t help out. What he found- or rather, what he didn’t find -was..concerning. 

He searched everywhere, any website he could think of, but there was no sign of Lila’s “adventures” anywhere. No reports, no articles, no posts or pictures on social media. Nothing. You’d think things as memorable as “Saving Jagged Stone’s kitten” would be found somewhere. On top of that, you’d think Jagged Stone’s kitten would be found somewhere. Nope.

At this point, the only thing Nino is certain about when it comes to her is that her name is Lila.

“Do you guys know where Adrien is?” He suddenly asked, barely realizing he’d completely interrupted Lila.

Alya knitted her eyebrows together in disapproval. “Nino, Lila was talking. Don’t be rude.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Lila jumped in, a sickly sweet smile on her lips. Wasn’t that smile just a little too sweet to be real?

“It’s only natural for Nino to be worried. I’m sure Adrien will be here soon.” 

Nino smiled tightly, subtly shifting away from her in his seat. His dude better be here soon. They really need to talk about his hunch on Lila’s stories.

But it wasn’t your hunch first, was it?

Guilt pricked the back of Nino’s mind, and he glanced back at the bright ravenette just a few tables away. She’d warned them, Marinette, and he didn’t listen. None of them did. Gosh, how was he going to apologize? They just.. Abandoned her! For a liar!

Calm down, another voice soothed. We still don’t know for sure. 

Right.. He supposed there was no actual proof that Lila lied. There just wasn’t proof her stories were true..

Nino clicked his tongue. He needed to talk to Marinette. Together, they could figure out how to expose her and show others the truth. Then, he’d talk to Adrien. They were best friends! No way his dude would pick Lila over him. Once they had Adrien on their side, convincing the rest of the class would be a piece of cake.

Now, to figure out how he’d get passed Mari’s defense squad..

~~~~~~

Adrien peered around the doorframe of the cafeteria, staring at Marinette’s table. She looked happy enough, but he knew she’d be even happier when this whole Lila business was put behind them! Nino’s been glancing at Marinette a lot, which meant he was doubting Lila more. Alya was.. Looking at her too, though it was more of a glare..

But that’s okay! Once Nino comes to their side, Adrien’s certain everyone else will follow, especially Alya.

He saw the group laugh, and Marinette leaned towards Felix, putting her hand on his shoulder from laughing so hard. His cousin smiled down at her and..was that- was he blushing?

Adrien scrunched up his nose in annoyance. Since when did Felix let someone touch him? All while smiling, for that matter? 

On the other hand, Marinette did bring out the best in people. She was great. 

But Felix seemed.. closer to her somehow. I mean, they hang out all of the time, but this feels different, and Adrien didn’t like it. She was friends with him first, after all. It’s not fair that Felix would come in and just steal her away.

“Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped, whirling around to see none other than Luka Couffaine.

“What are you doing?” The guitarist asked with what almost looked to be a glare on his face, but that couldn’t be the case, right?

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I was just.. you know.. trying to decide where to sit?”

Ugh, that was such a stupid excuse. You’d think all this time as Chat Noir would give him better experience when it came to those.

Luka nodded thoughtfully, looking over his shoulder to see the perfect view he has on Marinette’s table. 

“Right, right. Looking for a seat, because you’re not spying on anyone or anything.” 

Adrien swallows, but nods along, a nervous smile creeping across his lips. Was it him, or was Luka’s gaze steadily growing..darker..

“Yes, that would definitely be a bad idea,” the noirette continues, “especially if you were spying on someone who had a tight group of friends. Friends who would protect them to no end, or take care of certain people spying on them should they be asked.”

A chill crawled up Adrien’s spine. If he didn’t know Luka to be such a passive person, he might have called that a threat. 

“R-right, yeah. That’d be such a bad idea.” He agreed, stiffly taking a step back.

Luka’s electric blue eyes finally turned back to him, a small smile on his lips. Marinette’s energetic voice was heard in the distant, probably the reason for Luka’s slight shift in mood.

He then pat Adrien on the shoulder, just a bit too hard to be friendly. 

“Good luck finding your seat.” He said with a forced smile, swiftly moving around Adrien to approach Marinette’s table.

Adrien watched him leave, extremely unnerved. If Luka was starting to glare at him, maybe talking to Marinette would be harder than he thought.

~~~~~~

Felix swung his bag over his shoulder, checking his wrist watch for the time. They had half an hour before the meet up at Luka’s. That should give them plenty of time for the walk to the river.

His gaze trailed from the watch to the ravenette in front of him. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute.” Marinette responded, biting her lip as she made the finishing touches of her design. 

He leaned over her shoulder, studying the sketch. “It looks good.”

Drawing during class wasn’t a smart idea, but he supposed he could make an exception for her. Besides, her being distracted in class only gave him a reason to see her more so they could study together.

 A blush crept up Marinette’s cheeks. “O-Oh, really?”

Felix smiled faintly. “Yes, it’s truly wonderful. You’re very talented.” 

To his delight, her blush deepened and a squeak escaped her lips. He’s trying not to indulge in those pesky thoughts and feelings, but it seems they’re quite persistent. 

Marinette doesn’t help his case either, talking to him more and more since they became partners in protecting Paris, blushing and stuttering and being adorable in general. It was getting to be a real problem, if he was being honest.

A clearing of the throat turned the pair’s attention to the doorway, where an awkward Nino stood. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but..” 

Felix stood immediately, sending a cold glare to the DJ.

Nino recoiled, holding his hands up in defense. “W-woah, dude, I just wanna talk!” 

Felix scoffed, opening his mouth to argue when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” Marinette’s gentle smile hushed his oncoming rage, “I’ll talk to him.” 

Nino visibly sagged in relief, briefly lifting his cap to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Thanks, dudette-”

“You get ten minutes.” Felix interrupted, crossing his arms. 

Nino winced at the time limit, but nodded. 

“Alright, so I looked into Lila, like you said, and I’m pretty sure you were right. I can’t find any proof she’s lying, but there isn’t any proof she’s telling the truth, either. Isn’t that the same thing?” 

He’d started pacing the room as he spoke, flailing his hands about as if he’d discovered a groundbreaking theory of science. 

“I tried to tell Alya, but she wouldn’t listen. I knew I had to talk to you, though. I had to-” Nino paused, his gaze flicking to Marinette before sighing “-I have to apologize. For ignoring your warning. She just sounded so good, ya know? All the promises she made, the things she said..”

He shook his head. “Then she started talking about stuff you did, and everything else she said was so nice that we didn’t- that I didn’t question her anymore.”

“Nino-” Marinette tried.

“I should have, Mari. We’ve known each other for how long? How much have you done for me? And I just threw you aside because some stranger gave false promises.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. Dejected stance, wavering voice, flighty eyes- Nino seems genuine in what he’s said so far. 

“Nino, you didn’t know.” Marinette assured softly.

Nino scoffed, his voice cracking as he says, “But I did! You told me, Mari! I can’t- I don’t-”

He stopped to rub his eyes, then looked up at her.

“Can you ever forgive me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, broken.

Marinette choked out a sob- Felix assumed it was more for Nino than for herself -and she ran into the DJ’s arms.

“Of course I’ll forgive you, Nino.” 

The joy and relief on his face was unmistakable as he tightly hugged her back.

Felix knew this whole “Turning your back on the class” situation had taken its toll on her. So it was good to see them starting to apologize.

He’d still keep an eye on Nino, of course, but for now, it wouldn’t hurt to let her enjoy the moment.

~~~~~~

Marinette was bouncing off the walls as she and Felix neared Luka’s “pirate ship”.

Nino apologized! He finally figured out Lila was lying! Not only that, he was talking about telling the rest of the class! If they were lucky, Nino would have an easier time uncovering the truth than she did. Everything could finally go back to normal!

Well, not normal. Marinette knew nothing would be the same after this whole “Lila” incident, but at least there wouldn’t be as much tension anymore. She wouldn’t have to worry about shunning her classmates and being accused of ludicrous crimes every other Thursday!

“Mari! Felix! You guys took forever!” Aurore waved from the boat.

“Apologies. Lahiffe held us up.” Felix replied, stepping to the side to allow Marinette to walk onto the plank first.

Aurore frowned. “Nino? Was he trying to mess with you guys, too?”

“No, no! Actually, he-” Marinette paused, her grin faltering. “What do you mean ‘too’?”

 The blonde ushered them to the front of the boat, where Luka, Kagami, and Wayhem were waiting for them. They looked pretty angry.

“What happened?” Felix was quick to ask, a certain edge to his tone.

Wayhem huffed, while Kagami glared at the floor. 

Luka was the one to answer, agitation clear in his voice as he said, “I saw Adrien spying on you today.” 

Ice settled in her veins, and her eyes widened. “S-Spying? What do you mean?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Felix snapped, more upset towards his cousin than her. “It’s no surprise that he’s been following you. Adrien’s nothing if not persistent.”

“Yeah, but stalking her?” Wayhem growled, flailing his arms around. “What the heck!”

“I told him off.” Luka spoke up. “But it’s obvious he’s gonna try again.” 

Marinette sat down on the floor next to Kagami. Adrien’s been following her? I mean, she assumed he’d try talking to her again eventually, but how did she not notice?

Felix sat down next to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Then we’ll make sure to keep an eye out. We have the buddy system. If Adrien tries to spy on her again, we’ll go to Damocles.”

The others agreed, but Aurore still let out a groan.

“Why can’t they just leave you alone?” She sighed, plopping down between Kagami and Wayhem. 

“I wish I knew..” Marinette remarked. “But on the bright side-”

“There’s a bright side?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Nino apologized to me today!” 

The group perked up.

“Really?”

“What about?”

“Spill!”

Her bright grin return as she shifted to explain the events. “He told me after class that he looked for proof on Lila’s stories and that he couldn’t find any. He said he was sorry for not believing me! I think he’s gonna try to tell the rest of the class about her!”

 A hearty round of cheers came from the group. They looked to Felix for confirmation. Not that they didn’t believe Marinette. He was just the more cynical of the two.

The blond shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “The apology sounded genuine. I think we should take the win for now.” 

Lila’s caused a lot of drama since she got here, and even more pain for Marinette. Who were they to rain on her parade? 

Besides, if Nino was actually sincere, maybe this was a sign that things were finally looking up.

~~~~~~

Adrien tapped his fingers along the strap of his bag impatiently. After Luka’s subtle warning yesterday, he decided to use a different approach. He’d gotten to school early and hid behind one of the pillars inside the building. Luka- and occasionally Felix -walks Marinette to school every morning. When they get here, she’s going to have to go to her locker. Since Felix is obsessed with punctuality, he’ll already be in the classroom. Luka, not seeing Adrien because he’ll be hiding, will just tell Marinette to hurry up. She’ll run off, and Luka will go to his own classroom. That’s when he’ll talk to her about Nino. 

The plan was perfect, foolproof. Nothing could go wro-

“Dude, there you are!” 

Adrien flinched, turning to face his best friend with a plastered smile. “Nino, hey. I actually gotta do something right now, could you-”

“Yeah, yeah, totally, but I need to tell you about Lila first.” 

He paused. “Lila? What about her?”

Nino looked around to make sure no one was listening, before leaning closer. 

“She’s totally been lying, man. Mari was right!”

Excitement surged through his chest. Yes! Nino figured it out! That would give Marinette even more reason to come back to them. 

“I know it sounds crazy-” The DJ continued awkwardly.

“No, I believe you. We’re friends, Nino. I trust you on this.” Adrien assured, mostly trying to rush the conversation. People were starting to pile in, and he thought he saw Marinette in the distance.

Nino sighed in relief. “That’s great! I already talked to Marinette. Now, we just have to tell the others! With all three of us against her, they’re bound to listen.” 

His thoughts came to a halt. 

“You already.. Tell the others?” 

Adrien supposed Nino talking to Marinette was fine, but now he was talking about exposing Lila. Just like Marinette. 

“Yeah, they need to know.” Nino said firmly. “Lila’s been dogging Mari real bad, dude. Haven’t you noticed?”

Adrien had the decency to wince. He’d noticed Lila’s.. rougher attempts to silence Marinette, but she only did that because Marinette tried to expose her! Everyone knows a cornered animal will bite at you, and now Nino wanted to fall into that same mess? No, he couldn’t let that happen.

“But-”

“We should tell Nathaniel and Juleka first. They’ll be more open.”

“Wait-”

“Alya’s gonna be harder to convince, so we’ll save her for last.”

“Nino-”

The boy scoffed. “Chloe probably knows already. We’ll have to think of something to give her to help us out.” 

“Nino!”

Nino jumped, looking at Adrien with wide eyes.

He cast his gaze downward, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “You.. you can’t.”

Nino frowned. “What are you talking about?

Adrien resisted the urge to cringe. He could already tell Nino wouldn’t take this as well as Marinette originally had.

“I-I mean, you can’t expose Lila. It’ll only hurt her.” 

A solid minute of silence passed, aside from the chattering crowds of students. 

Finally, Nino spoke, “What?”

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but Nino cut him off.

“Are you serious? Hurt her? What about Marinette? What about me? And Alya? And all the other people who she’s been lying to?” His voice was steadily growing louder with anger.

“I-I just think exposing her is a bad idea.” Adrien tried to persuade him. “She could get akumatized! If we expose her now, she won’t become a better person.”

Nino’s eyes bulged out of his head. “What?! You’re saying we just- just let her lie to the rest of the class? For the off chance she might stop lying?”

Adrien recoiled slightly. It sounded terrible when he put it that way.

“No! I just don’t think we should expose her. Her lies will crumble on their own. You’re proof of that! You figured out she was lying without us telling you!” 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because something seemed to click in Nino’s mind and a scowl formed on his lips.

“Dude! You knew she was lying, didn’t you!” It wasn’t a question.

Adrien stiffened towards the sudden glare, fumbling for some sort of excuse.

“W-well, yeah, but-”

Nino didn’t let him finish, jabbing his finger into Adrien’s chest. “You knew that all those accusations towards Mari were bullcrap and you let it happen?”

The blonde frowned, quickly turning defensive. “I didn’t! We agreed not to say anything!” 

Nino scoffed in disbelief, turning away from him and covering his head with his hands. 

“Oh my gosh, you pulled that crap on Mari too? No wonder she hates us!” 

“She doesn’t hate us.” Adrien stated firmly, though the hurt was clear in his tone. How could Nino say that?

Nino huffed, looking back to him with glare and flailing his hands in the air. “Yes she does! She hasn’t talked to any of us in months!”

Adrien went to reply, but the bell rang. 

“I’m trying to do the right thing, Nino!” He said in a last attempt to have Nino see reason.

The DJ shook his head, a pained expression hidden by the bill of his hat. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Panic rose in Adrien’s mind as Nino walked away. Why did everyone have to be so difficult? Couldn’t they see that his plan had worked? All they wanted to do was create more conflict than necessary!

Marinette. He need to find Marinette. She would be able to talk some sense into Nino, right after he talked some sense into her.

Adrien dashed for the locker room, desperately hoping to find her inside.

-

Thankfully, something was going right for him today, because she was still rummaging through her locker. 

“Mari, thank goodness.” 

Her entire body froze when she heard his voice.

Adrien continued anyway. “I need your help. Nino’s planning to out Lila as a liar, and he won’t listen to me. We need to convince him not to expose her.” 

Marinette’s eyes snapped to his, something akin to rage swimming beneath her gaze.

“Tell me you’re joking.” Her tone was icy, sharp, eerily similar to Felix’s.

Adrien swallowed, straightening with determination. “I’m not. You and I both know letting Lila’s lies fall apart themselves is the best way to go.”

She’d put him through a lot of trouble from being so stubborn, but now that they were getting results, they could put all of that behind them. Results meant his plan was working. He knew Marinette would be smart enough to see that.

“No.” 

Or not.

“Mari, come on-”

“No!” She snapped, stunning him into silence. “I refuse to help you trap Nino into another one of your shaky promises for ‘the greater good’.”

Adrien blanched. He thought for sure that Marinette wouldn’t be so illogical. 

“What are you talking about? Trapping? Mari, I know it’s been a rough road, but I was right, wasn’t I? Nino came and apologized! That’s proof that letting Lila go is the best solution!” 

Marinette flushed, her fists clenching at her sides. “He only apologized because Felix and I said something! Nino even admitted that if it hadn’t been for Karma, he would’ve never looked into her at all!”

Adrien shook his head, disappointed. “So, what, you’re just going to let this happen?” 

“No. Unlike you, I’m actually going to stand by his side against Lila.” She stated, arms crossed over her chest. How could she act like he was in the wrong here!

“Did you tell Nino to go after her?” The accusation slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying. It made sense, though. Why else would Nino be so set on exposing her?

Marinette scoffed in disbelief. “Of course not! He decided that on his own.” 

Adrien found himself pressing on his previous statement. “Really? Because he sure sounded a lot like you.”

“Well, that just means he has common sense.” She bit back. The tension in the room could probably be cut with a knife.

“What do you have against her, Mari! You’re only causing more problems. Is that what you want?”

Marinette glared daggers at him, but he ignored it. They had to talk this out, or else she’d never come back to him. That’s what friends do, after all, bring each other back to the right path.

“Yes.” 

Her answer shocked him. 

“What?”

Marinette swung her bag over her shoulder. “If exposing Lila causes more conflict, then fine. They should have listened to me earlier, or it wouldn’t be so bad.” 

Adrien couldn’t believe his ears. How could his lovely, sugar-sweet Marinette be saying such things?

He sighed, pure disappointment reflecting in his eyes. “Alya was right. You really are just a bully.” 

Adrien barely registered Marinette raising her fist. 

He grunted, his back hitting the lockers and his hand grabbing his jaw. Adrien looked up at her with wide eyes. 

Marinette didn’t respond, giving him one last scowl before running out of the room. 

~~~~~~

Marinette hissed as she rubbed her knuckles. Punching Adrien felt too good, but it did little to sedate her growing rage. 

A bully? Chloe terrorized the school daily and Lila manipulates the class as much as possible, but she’s the bully? Ridiculous!

How dare he call her that! 

“Marinette, you need to call down.” Tikki coaxed, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Marinette scoffed. Calm down? Why should she! After being treated so unfairly, she had a right to be angry! Screw the akumas! Screw Hawkmoth! For once, she just wanted to be angry. To feel something without having to worry about turning into a monster. She already was one in the class’ mind, anyway.

The bathroom door swung open, and she shrank into the stall she’d hid in. She didn’t care to deal with any of her other classmates.

“Marinette? Are you in here?”

Marinette sat up, confused.

“Felix?” She said, opening the stall door. That wouldn’t be as unusual except they were in the girl’s bathroom. 

The blonde was panting in front of her, a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay? I saw you run in here.” He asked, looking her over. 

“You’re not allowed in here." 

"Did you think that would stop me?”

A sense of warmth spread through her chest. Gosh, she loves this man.

Her cheeks flushed toward the realization. 

She loved Felix. 

There was no denying it now. He was so kind and gentle and stood firmly by her side since day one. How could she have possibly missed him before?

Adrien.

A scowl returned to her face. That’s right. She’d been too obsessed with that spineless jerk to appreciate Felix properly. 

Her newly discovered love was clouded over by hatred once again, and she soon found herself ranting about what had happened.

Neither noticed the black butterfly slip through the bathroom window, not until it landed on Marinette’s purse. 

“Marinette!” Tikki cried, when the butterfly outline appeared on her face. 

Hello, Miss Fortune. I am Hawkmoth. Your classmates have wronged you, and turned your own work against you. Together, we can show them what happens when they take their good fortune for granted. 

Marinette wanted to argue, if not for the sake of Felix who was panicking next to her, but she was so tired. Tired of fighting akumas, Tired of her words being twisted to make her the bad guy. Just. Tired. 

She vaguely remembered unclipping her earrings and handing them to Felix, saying a single word before she was swallowed whole by the darkness.

“Run.”

Tag list: @unabashedbookworm@bluerosette23@minightrose@kuroko26@im-here-for-the-content@angstyrastuff@clumsy-owl-4178 @fanboy7794@choaticneturcl@bigcheeseyboi@burntnugget-tae@ayuchan07@honorisfortheweak@knightrose15@mjisntme@rhub4rb@simplythebestbug@wilhelmares@zebrabaker@dargeon-lissa @kristycocopop @alumneia @kaydenth3gayden @thornangelic727@flirtshobi @whatamessofwords @offically-over-it @flashflashitsash@thewingting @aegyobutpsycho2 @zoeytheweeb @zeyheartstaylor@friedchickening @roseinbloom02 @totalgaydrama @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @bitterheart12224 @krunchy-tuna @trapezoidoxide @izzynuggets @imfreakingmagical @vixen-uchiha @dani-ari @azureocean33 @tinkerbela @drama-queen-supreme @nerdyleafeon @tinybrie @jarofbuttons

[mistytpednaem]

So, what’s up with Another Me?

Honestly, I tried to draft this post, but the mental block made me decide to just go for it stream-of-consciousness style. Which I hope doesn’t bode poorly or anything. But here goes!

The Past and the Present

As you may know, I’ve been at this for a while now! Since 2014, in fact. In that time, I’ve gotten through the prologue and... most of chapter one (fun fact: I do have the entirety of this story mapped out! We are transitioning into what should be the final scene of this chapter. Originally, I wanted to make this post - or something along these lines - once I finished the chapter, but I figured since the year was about to end I’d be better off doing it now).

Now, let’s not mince words: that is a long time. I have six chapters total (not counting the prologue) mapped out for this comic, and there is more I’d like to do beyond it (what I like to call Arc 2, or, as you may or may not know:  The Part Where My Pet Character Marco Evangelisti Actually Shows Up). If I keep going at the current pace, I will probably not be done within my lifetime. So, if I’m aware of this, what gives?

... I mean, damn. There’s a lot I could point to; I was finishing my degree until 2016, and I suppose that takes something out of you. I have unreasonably high expectations for myself, as the people closest to me know. “2020 was a bad year for everyone,” I tell myself, before I also go on to say, “but even though updates slowed down even more this year, it’s not like they’ve been particularly speedy for the past couple of years, and I haven’t had that bad of a year anyway, so that’s a shoddy excuse.” And then some semblance of reasonable thought comes over me and reminds me my grandfather had a stroke in March of last year and passed away in early June of this year, and I’m like “I mean, okay, I guess I’ve been through SOME things.”

But lighthearted reflections aside, there are more actionable problems I have identified - such as, in an overarching sense, my attitude. My friends made me realise this some time late last year, and while I’ve been trying to work on it, I have to admit I’ve made very little progress: at some point, I developed a seriously unhealthy relationship with my art. Here is how my workflow has tended to go:

Start scripting update. I have a small readership, but that’s okay; I am grateful for every suggestion, I can work with this, and I AM building towards something that excites me.

Script done, regardless of insecurities. It’s time to start working on the actual panels. This sketch didn’t come out exactly the way I intended, but hopefully it still works (alternatively: this sketch looks promising! I am excited about this sketch. Sometimes, I do feel happy with my sketches).

Oh dear. I was hoping the lineart would help a little (alternatively: oh dear. the lineart completely ruined this perfectly fine sketch). Maybe it’ll still look alright with colour?

Oh no. I hate it, actually. I suppose I’m too sloppy; I should be more careful next time. 

(Repeat for however many panels i have planned for an update, typically with mounting guilt the longer I take on each one, because I keep taking longer and longer and, to my eyes, there is no improvement.)

Well, as my friends keep reminding me, done is better than perfect. Let’s post it!

The update is posted to a small readership and a quiet response, which, again, is okay, but leaves me wanting for feedback that I cannot get because I am reluctant to spread the word for several reasons, one of them being that I’ve convinced myself my work isn’t good enough.

Rinse and repeat, with the process continuing to be slow - if not turning exponentially slower - because apparently when things make you feel bad your brain starts wanting to protect you from them.

Apologies if this is a little harsh, but it is genuinely the most sincere breakdown of The Whole Deal that I can produce.

The good news is there are things I can do about this! Not easy things, granted, as they tie deeply into a lot of the recurring neuroses in my life, but in theory, the more I embrace imperfection, and the less I worry, the faster I should be able to work, and I should start getting some serotonin out of the whole thing again. In theory. This is not the only issue, however, and I have good and bad news about the other issue I’ve identified:

I don’t think the forum adventure format is working in its current shape.

It’s not about the suggestions - I love working with suggestions! Reader interaction is fun, it’s already shaped a good number of things and I hope it continues to do so. It’s more of a matter of visibility. Tragically, forums are not the most In Vogue things these days, and that reflects itself in, well, poor visibility. I’ve tried to remedy this by allowing suggestions through MSPFA, Tumblr and Twitter as well, but honestly, it hasn’t helped much. I think I’ve only gotten one or two suggestions through MSPFA? And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure this is in great part because of my passive role in getting the word out! But it’s all contributing towards this strange, shrinking spiral of a feedback loop.

The good news is that, since I have identified this problem, there should be an actionable solution. The bad news is I’m not quite sure what form that solution should take just yet.

The Future

Whew, that was a lot. So, what’s in store for 2021 and beyond?

Well, er, like I’ve implied, I’m a little unsure. But that’s my default state of existence, so let’s go over what I think.

When I finish chapter one, I would like to find a proper hosting place for AM. As I said, I don’t think the forum thing is quite working out, and MSPFA is a wonderful website, but I feel AM has little to do with most of the content on it beyond the second-person narration and the script-style dialogues. Whether that means a change in format is needed along with the change in hosting, I’m not sure; I would like to keep the whole “one panel per page with text underneath it” deal, which... should be doable on most places, but in this current year, I’m frankly not sure how it would come across, haha.

(I’m also not sure what this hosting place should be, mind you; potentially a wordpress blog with a layout tailored for comics, but drawing isn’t actually my day job, so I’m not sure how viable paying for a domain name might be. Or hosting, for that matter, should I need it - but imgur has been friendly enough of an image host so far.)

What I do know is that I want to keep the suggestions, even though I’m not entirely sure how well that will work without a forum structure. Comments on a post, perhaps? Maybe. But we can’t forget that this doesn’t solve one of the other big issues, which is my reluctance to advertise. And there’s still, you know, my unhealthy, unreasonably high standards affecting my entire workflow.

... But that all kind of comes back to one thing, doesn’t it? The fear of taking the plunge? That’s what I need to overcome. Plans are a good first step, but they mean nothing if I don’t act on them. Which is part of the reason I’m talking about all this - so people can hold me to my plans.

(Plus, like, offer feedback and opinions. That’s very valuable too.)

This whole Future section is a whole lot more uncertain than, I think, even I hoped for when I started writing this post. But I hope what I’m trying to say comes across in some kind of way - not just in the sense of this being elucidating (which, don’t get me wrong, hopefully it is!), but also as far as conveying my feelings to my friends and readers is concerned.

I’m going to keep trying, and I know I’m a little lacking in the Doing department, but now you all know what’s been on my mind. Thank you all for the support, stay safe in These Trying Times, and hopefully we can all keep growing together.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 3289 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 04 of 08 |  Link to Masterlist

Arthur knows what he's doing is stupid. In fact, he is stupid. He got up even earlier than usual, taking care of the firewood. Julie prepares it most of the time, but when she briefly mentioned in conversation that she doesn't particularly like doing it, Arthur immediately had the urge to do it for her.

He likes to think that he's just trying to help out around the farm, but after the pencils and the whole trouble Arthur went through with Jasper, he can't pretend that what he's doing has nothing to do with Julie. Somehow he always ends up helping her in particular.

Ever since she kissed him on the cheek, she wanders around in his mind when he's not busy thinking about something else. Having the chance to hold her in his arms didn't make it any easier. In fact, he feels like he's years younger, even more of an idiot, and stupid enough to think that she might like him as more than a friend, if at all. 

Julie's a nice person. Doing sweet things comes naturally to her, and has nothing to do with Arthur, but he still can't stop hoping. He's chopping wood and buys a new shirt like a changed man, as if he wasn't a killer, wanted outlaw, and complete failure.

Arthur finishes the last logs with a sigh, knowing full well that his day won't get any better. With some tools, he heads out to one end of Mr. Henderson's property, beginning the work that will probably take him the whole week, building a new fence.

On the one hand, it's a good thing that he can stay away from the stables for a while. That way, he at least can't embarrass himself in front of Julie. On the other hand, he has a lot of time to think. 

For the last two days, he's been remembering his ride with Julie. They didn't talk much, but Julie kept smiling at Arthur, so abundantly happy that she was finally able to ride Jasper. It was a joy to watch her race over open fields, her blonde hair flying in the wind. She seemed to glow in a golden shine under the warm summer sun, so free and unburdened that watching her made Arthur's heart ache. 

Fuelled with those memories, Arthur keeps working on the fence, trying to neither think back to his old life nor imagine the future. All that matters is hitching up posts, one after the other until the day is gone.

He makes good progress until he hears a rider approach. Arthur's heart drops when Julie rides up to him on Jasper. "Hello, Arthur."

Arthur tips his hat, pulling it deeper into his face. "Jules."

She hops off the horse and strides over to him with a bundle in her hand, her eyes wandering over the already finished fence. "Let me guess, you didn't take any breaks."

Arthur opens his mouth, but Julie shakes her head and takes his hammer away before throwing it into the grass. Then she grabs his hand and pulls him to the nearby woods, making him sit down on a fallen tree in the shadow of a few branches.

"I had time to make something to eat for you since the firewood was already done," Julie says, raising a single brow at Arthur while unpacking the bundle in her hand.

"Was it?" Arthur says, looking out over the farmland in front of them. 

Julie pushes a bowl with stew into his hand and tops it off with a thick slice of bread. "It's cold but better than nothing."

"Thank you," Arthur says, although he's not sure how he's supposed to eat with butterflies in his stomach. 

Julie is sitting way too close, her leg brushing against his. Arthur would move, but then he'd fall off the tree. Instead, he shovels a spoonful of stew into his mouth. That should keep Julie from asking him any questions. 

"You know that you don't have to do everything, right?" she asks.

Arthur chews, but Julie keeps looking at him, waiting for an answer. He clears his throat, trying to come up with an excuse. "I don't mind the firewood. It's quiet work, relaxing. Just like building a fence."

"You must have had quite the excitement before when you actually like doing these boring things."

"Enough for a lifetime," Arthur says, knowing that he's avoiding her unspoken question. It's not fair to keep it a secret from Julie who he truly is, but the thought of her thinking less of him twists Arthur's stomach into knots.

He forces down more stew, and maybe Julie takes the hint or just wants for him to eat, but she stays quiet, looking up into the trees. They sit there until Arthur is done eating, and Julie fetches a bottle of water for him as well, scolding him for not bringing one along in the first place. 

Arthur thanks her again, trying to put the bottle into his bag to bring it along. He curses when one side of the bag tears, and his journal drops to the ground. It falls open, and Arthur hurries to pick it up, but Julie is quicker than him. Her eyes grow big as she looks at the page, and Arthur's heart stops, thinking about the things he recently wrote about her.

"I thought you only wrote in this," Julie says, "I didn't know you were drawing, too."

"It's just silly little doodles," Arthur says, hoping that Julie won't turn the page.

"That's the whole farm from the viewpoint up on that ridge," Julie says with wonder in her voice. She moves a few steps before turning around, holding the journal up against the horizon. "Arthur, that's incredible. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"My pa," Arthur begins, realizing too late that he was thinking about Hosea and horrible guilt consumes him. 

"Your father was an artist?"

"No, what I meant was that he gave me my first journal when I was 15," Arthur says, the memory weighing heavy on him. "I've been trying to draw whatever I saw since then."

"Well, then he's a good father. You're really talented," Julie says. She closes the journal with such care as if it was a precious relic before handing it over. "I've meant to draw a few places around here, but somehow I never get around to it."

"How come?" Arthur asks, wishing he could see some of Julie's drawings.

"Mrs. Henderson would say I work too much," Julie sighs, "and Mr. Henderson is always concerned about me. A young woman alone on the road? Better not. There's a beautiful pond up in those woods, but there's a road going past with many travelers and stagecoaches, so there are sometimes bandits in the woods as well. Mr. Henderson would kill me if I went there on my own."

"He's not wrong," Arthur says. He met enough outlaws in his time who went far beyond thieving and killing. Some of them were so bad, you wished they would have killed their victims. "There are some bad people out there."

Julie studies Arthur for a moment as if to ask if he's one of them, but then she walks over to Jasper. "I better let you work now, or Mr. Henderson will have my head for distracting you."

"Thank you for the food," Arthur says again. After all, he can't tell Julie that she's already distracting him anyway.

"Somebody has to take care of you," Julie says with a smile before riding off, leaving Arthur with a warm feeling in his chest.

------

The next morning, Arthur walks out of his cabin, finding a fresh water bottle and a tightly wrapped package in front of his door. He doesn't have to look inside to know what it is. Julie must have gotten up even earlier than usual to prepare some food for him. Arthur picks it up, finding a little note tucked into one of the folds. It says, "Take some breaks."

Smiling, Arthur puts the package in his saddlebag and rides out to continue his work on the fence. This time, he doesn't mind those thoughts of Julie dance around in his head. He can't change her as much as he can't change himself, so he might as well enjoy her kindness, no matter how undeserved it might be.

When noon comes around, Arthur takes Julie's advice to have a break. He unpacks the food package, finding cold roast, bread, and berries. Sitting in the shadow of a huge tree, Arthur savors his meal. Somehow, it tastes so much better than anything he's ever eaten before. He's about to pack up when he finds a piece of paper sticking out from under his plate.

Arthur pulls it out, his eyes growing wide. It's a drawing of him on the Mustang riding up to the stables. Despite sketching other people all the time, Arthur has never seen a picture of himself. It's like looking into the mirror, and he's impressed how well Julie can draw. 

Wondering why Julie picked this specific scene, Arthur's stomach does a little summersault when he remembers what happened right afterward. Closing his eyes, Arthur can imagine how Julie's touch felt on his skin, but then he quickly gets up. He can't risk to drift off into these kinds of phantasies. 

Instead, Arthur carefully folds up the drawing and puts it in his breast pocket before riding out to town. Mr. Henderson asked him to run some errands, and he might be able to find a little thank you gift for Julie. At least that's what Arthur thought.

He's done with Mr. Henderson's business in no time, but even after an hour, Arthur can't find anything to give to Julie. He can't exactly gift her a sack of rice, but at the same time, anything more personal could give her the wrong - or worse - the right idea about Arthur's growing feelings for her. In the end, he decides that a heartfelt thank you has to do.

On his way back, Arthur has another idea, though. He's on the road Julie talked about the day before, so Arthur steers his horse into the trees to find the pond. It takes him a little going back and forth, but he knows what Julie has been talking about once he sees it.

It's a beautiful place with high trees and lots of flowers that surround the small body of water. Birds are singing, and when Arthur comes closer, a few deer quickly jump away and disappear. Letting his horse roam free, Arthur walks around the pond two times to find the right spot before settling down with his journal.

Usually, Arthur's quick with his drawings. He always had other things to do or was with someone who didn't appreciate him taking forever to sketch an abandoned church or oddly shaped tree. Today, Arthur takes his time. He tries to capture how the sun sparkles on the water, and painstakingly draws all the single petals on most of the flowers. He only rushes to finish the picture when the sun begins to set.

Looking at his finished work in the dim light, Arthur remembers Julie's words about him being talented, and for the first time in a long while, he feels proud about something that he did. Folding the paper as carefully as possible, he puts it to Julie's drawing in his pocket and hurries back to the farm so he won't miss dinner.

At the house, Julie greets him with a lovely smile, and Arthur's heart skips a beat once again. Thinking about giving her the drawing later makes him so nervous he can barely follow the conversation. When they're done eating, Julie heads outside to play her guitar, and Mr. Henderson holds Arthur back to talk about work.

Arthur nods along until Mr. Henderson finally gives him free. Outside, Arthur finds Julie sitting on the steps that lead up to the door. Her guitar is lying next to her, but she's not playing.

"No music tonight?" Arthur asks.

"I felt like watching the stars," Julie says before turning to Arthur and patting the floor next to her. "Come sit with me."

Arthur swallows a lump in his throat, feeling like he might pass out. He can't remember the last time he's been so nervous. For a moment, he thinks about making up an excuse to go, but his feet act on their own, carrying him all too willingly over to Julie. He sits down next to her, leaving generous space between them, but Julie scoots closer, pointing into the sky.

"I love that one," she says, and Arthur follows the line of her outstretched arm to a big star that shines particularly bright.

"It's pretty," Arthur says, looking at Julie. She turns her head, and he tries desperately to come up with something else to say. "Thank you for the food. And the drawing. You're way more talented than I am."

Julie's cheeks gain a little color, and she waves her hand. "Like you said, just silly little drabbles."

Arthur thinks about the picture in his breast pocket, and it takes all his courage to take it out and hand it to Julie. "I thought about what you said when I was heading back from town. You probably could have done a better job, though."

Julie unfolds the paper and gasps before staring at Arthur. "You drew the pond?"

"I gave it a shot," Arthur says, rubbing his neck. Now that Julie is looking at it, he begins to see mistakes he didn't notice before, and he feels he should have taken more time to get the picture right.

"It's beautiful," Julie says, her eyes wandering over the page. "The details in the flowers. The water. This must have taken you forever."

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe when I'm done with the fence, we can ride up there together, and you can draw it yourself. Or any of the other places you wanted to draw."

Julie looks back up at Arthur, a shine in her eyes that makes his skin tickle. "You would do that?"

Arthur's not quite sure how they ended up so close to each other, and he knows he should just say yes, or maybe nod, but he's always been an idiot. "For you," he says, his voice almost giving out on him.

He moves even closer to Julie, knowing full well that he shouldn't. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she leans in, and Arthur closes the distance between them, his lips brushing against Julie's. Arthur's heart feels like it might jump out of his chest any second, and he wants nothing more than to hold Julie close, but then the door screeches behind them.

They move apart as if hit by lightning, and only seconds later, Mrs. Henderson comes out of the house. "Aren't you going to play, Julie? I really feel like-"

She stops herself when her eyes fall on the paper in Julie's hand. "Oh, my dear, that's lovely. When did you draw that?"

Julie throws a quick glance over to Arthur before handing the drawing to Mrs. Henderson. "I didn't. Arthur drew it today."

Mrs. Henderson's mouth falls open, and she looks back and forth between Arthur and the drawing. "Well, look at you, Mr. Morgan. Aren't you full of surprises? Who knows what else we might find the longer you stay with us."

She can't know it, but her words cut deep, and Arthur gets to his feet. "I think I better go to sleep. I want to get an early start on that fence."

"You two make quite the couple," Mrs. Henderson sighs, running a hand over Julie's hair. "The name, the drawing, and nothing but work in your heads. The two of you really need to have some fun for a change."

Julie lets out a muffled noise, and Arthur wishes he could just melt into the ground. Instead, he taps his hat. "Goodnight."

He turns around, walking away so quickly that he doesn't know if the two women respond. Arthur's whole body seems to fill up with rage, and he wishes he could give himself a good beating. 

When he left the gang, Arthur swore that he's done with making stupid mistakes, yet here he is, well on his way to hurt a nice, young woman, and maybe ruining more lives. The surprises he's filled with are danger, sorrow, and regret. Neither Julie nor the Henderson's deserve any of that. If he wants to stay, he has to get himself under control.

--------

Pretending to be busy with the fence, Arthur manages to stay away from Julie for two days, and then he jumps at the chance when Mr. Henderson asks him to bring one of the horses he sold to its buyer. That way, he gets to stay away for three more days, trying to sort out his feelings. 

At first, he goes with booze but concludes that that's just one more mistake, considering how he behaves when drunk. The trouble is that Arthur can't sleep when he's sober. He's tossing and turning, only drifting off for a few minutes before waking up in a cold sweat, guilt consuming him over and over again.

By the time Arthur gets back to the farm, he's so tired he can barely walk straight and doesn't remember the last time he ate. Still, he brings his horse into the stable, doing his best to take care of it. It's already dark, and Arthur hoped he could sneak into his cabin without anybody noticing. Of course, he has no such luck.

"Arthur?" Julie asks behind him, and Arthur does his best to stand up straight when he turns around to her.

"Yes, it's me. I just got back."

Julie takes a step closer, worry in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just a little tired," Arthur says with a forced smile. "It's been a long ride."

He's not sure if he actually sways at those words, but it sure feels that way. Julie comes even closer, studying his face. "A little tired? You're dead on your feet. What's wrong?"

Arthur knows that he won't get out of this so quickly, so he shrugs. "Haven't slept well for the last few days. I'll be fine."

He waits for Julie to scold him, but she just takes his hand and leads him into the next empty stall. It's filled with fresh hay, and Julie forces him to sit down. "I'll be right back," she says, her voice low.

Arthur wishes he could go, but he's not sure he could get up on his feet before Julie's back. Instead, he shrugs out of his jacket and puts it behind his head like a makeshift pillow. He's staring at the wall on the other side when Julie appears in front of him. She puts a blanket over him and then sits down with her guitar on her legs.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks, but Julie only shakes her head.

"Just close your eyes."

She starts playing, and Arthur does as she says. He's nervous with her closeby, and he wants to apologize, but he's not sure how to even get the words out. "I'm sorry, Jules," he finally manages to say.

"Sleep, Arthur," Julie says, her voice warm and comfortable like the blanket over him. "You'll be fine."

It takes a while until Arthur can focus on the music, but then a nice heavy feeling settles in his stomach, the notes carrying him over into a better world, a world where he doesn't have to apologize for liking someone.

[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.