#cool program but how do you move stuff

[they-hermes]

tried clip studio paint for the first time ever, heres human first aid ambulon and ratchet

[aysrin]

Needle Felt Siffrin Build Log: (oct 6 - nov 20, 2024)

Credits goes wholely to @insertdisc5 for creating ISAT and siffrin's design! I am just here to attempt to make cool fanart (and get more people to play isat.. my devious plans are going great so far :3) As always, this isn't a tutorial- it is just a log about how i go about approaching a sculpture and I hope this collection of resources can help others make their own sifs!!

PSA: this has some spoilers for endgame CGs/sprites on my references image board ( also might see it in the backgrounds of my process pics). And bc this is needle felting, you will see some sharp needles! beware!

my inspiration was the intro cutscene where Sif eats the star, so my main goal was to adhere to the style of ISAT as closely as possible while transfering it to 3D space. And I knew i also wanted to try making the cloak for stopmotion purposes, so my process was tailored towards having control over the fabric with wire inlaid within the cloak (more on that later).

I ended up not sticking eyebrows on top of siffrin's bangs lol but anyways, first order of business is Gather Reference! v important. pureref is free and an awesome program. I also do some sketches to visualize the pose and important details i wanted to include in the sculpt.

behold the isat wiki gallery page! tawnysoup wrote an awesome ISAT style guide that absolutely rings true in 3d space too!! adrienne made a sif hair guide here!! (sorry i couldnt find the original link, but it's on the wiki). It says ref komaeda hair so that's what i looked at, along with other adjacent hairstyles! I also like doing drawovers on in progress photos to previs shapes n stuff to get a better idea of the end result.

Also if you're like me and struggle with translating stuff into 3D space, take a look at how people make 3d models and figurines! sketchfab is also a great resource! I looked at the link botw model by Christoph Schoch here for hair ref. (I used Maya, but there's a blender version too ! you can pose characters too if your model has been rigged!)

Face:

Started off blocking out the main shapes of eyelids and iris, and then filling in the colour details in the iris and the star highlights before moving onto adding thin black outlines and eyelashes. I didn't take many in-progress photos cause i kept ripping stuff out to redo them many many times, sorry!! This eye took about 3 hrs bc i just wasn't happy with it!! Sometimes it do be the vibe to give up, go to bed and see how it looks in the morning (more often than naught, it looks fine and it was the "dont trust yourself after 9pm" speaking)

The Mouth:

Couldn't decide if i even wanted to add a mouth as per usual with all my humanoid sculptures.. but i did some drawover tests first to see what expression i liked and to try to visualize it from multiple angles. (I was also testing the placement of stars on the hat brim here)

And then I redid the mouth like 3 times cause the angle just wasn't right (this went on for about the course of a week yay!)

Hair: woe baldfrin be upon ye

I made the hair strands individually first, and then since Sif has some of the hair at the back dyed black, i covered some of the tips with black wool (manually) (I think it would go much faster if i just took a marker to it, but hahaha i love pain and detailing!! )

And then the rest of it was positioning strands with sewing pins layer by layer, always looking at it from different multiple angles- sometimes tailoring the angle or swoop of individual hair flippies. At one point I thought the back looked too cluttered, but the hat covers a lot of it anyways!! yay for hiding mistakes! (imo this is a similar process to how cosplayers style wigs, but on a smaller scale and the same level of time consuming)

As always, look to your reference for guides, and I always do a whole bunch of drawovers over in progress photos to ascertain what was working and what wasn't.

Hat:

A trick to get a super pointy tip, make another tip seperately while keeping the connection point unfelted, and then combine the two to make super pointy hat!! (this also helps if you made the hat too short and need it to be taller. ask me how i know)

The embroidery on the hat brim was done in a hoop and then invisible stitched to the felted top portion. Technically you don't need a hoop but it helps keep the fabric tension, so you avoid puckers in your embroidery. You can also use iron-on stabilizer if your fabric is loose weave or particularly thin. this is the tutorial i used for the stars embroidery! particularly the fly stitch one, french knots, and the criss-cross stitches. highly recommend needlenthread for embroidery stitches and techniques! i learned all my embroidery from this single site alone.

For fabric, I think I used a polycotton i had in my stash,, unsure of the actual fiber content bc i bought it a long time ago. I used DMC Satin floss which was nice and subtle shiny but frayed a lot so it was kind of a pain to stitch with... but keep a short thread length and perservere through it!! After the embroidery was done, I folded up the raw edges and invisible sewed it to the top portion of the hat.

General shape:

Ok general structure of the body is this: wire armature body covered with black wool -> cloak lining & wire cage -> edge of lining is invisibly sewn to the main cloak at the hem -> head

Don't be afraid to mess around with the pattern, it's essentially a pizza with a slice taken out of it to form a steep cone shape!! Use draft paper before cutting into felt to save material! (i think i made like 3 cloaks before i was happy with the shape lol).

You can also hide the seam of the cloak and collars by gently messing up the fibers of the felt with your fingers or a felting needle btw! you can also sandpaper the seams according to Sarah Spaceman in this vid (highly recommend them for their in depth cosplay/crafting builds holy smokes), though since sif cloak is at such a smol scale, I just blended the seam with my felting needle.

For the lining wire cage section, I sewed in wire around the cloak, so the main rotation point is at the top neck area under the collar. These paddles are used to keep whatever pose I need the cloak to be in for stopmotion purposes. Then after the wire is done, I invisibly sewed the lining to the cloak at the hem (same technique as the hat brim to the lining there).

In hindsight, I should've used a thinner fabric for the lining, but i only had sheer white in my stash so had to go with double felt, thus resulting in a really bulky lining but oh well!

Heels:

started with the general boot shape, then tacking on the diamond shape heel stack and also diamond shape sole bc we're committed to the bit here. I skewer the boot onto the armature which also conveniently hides the connection point into the base to keep the whole thing upright and also I can rotate the boot to tweak the angle if needed.

Pins:

I kinda just trial and error'd jewellery wire with pliers into the pin shapes. They're itty bitty!! had a whole bunch of fails before i got two nice ones. A hot tip is to use needle nose pliers and wrap the wire around the tip to get a smooth circle shape!

Base:

I smoothed out the edge of a circular wood base with a dremel, and then used wood stainer to get the black colour. It ended up kinda looking like I took a sharpie to it, but whatever.... now i have a whole ass can of black wood stainer........ I then made a rough mountain of black wool and stuck the feet armature in. And now he's standing!!

Normally at this point when I'm done felting everything, to get a smooth finish, I'd take a small pair of scissors and carefully snip away any flyaway fibers, but this time, I just left them fluffy cause i think that's what sif would do :3c

Photoshoot:

Normally I do shoots using daylight but it was winter so the sun was nonexistent. So I broke out the home lighting setup aka dollarstore posterboard for a nice smooth background, and then hit it with the overhead Fill, side Fill 2, and Rim light, and use white paper/posterboard for bounce light if one side feels too dark. But if things are overexposed, you can move the light sources away until the harshness dims down. I'm using a Olympus mirrorless camera (handed down to me by my sibling so i dont remember the model exactly), which can connect to my phone as a remote so I can avoid shaking the camera when i take photos. Pretty nifty for stopmotion purposes! (yes my camera stand is a stack of notebooks, a tissuebox and some eva foam under the lens, don't judge me)

Stopmotion animation:

I'm still figuring stopmo out on my part, but my process was straight ahead animation ... move the cloak a cm, take a pic.... move another cm, click.... and repeat until i get a version I was happy with. My ref was the cloak animation from Gris (beautiful game btw). The 2d star animation was also done straight ahead using procreate, exported in png with a transparent background, and finally stitched together with the stopmotion footage in photoshop.

My turnarounds are also stopmotion! also secret hack, the turntable is a fidget spinner sticky tacked to a cake platter.

And i think that's all! i mainly wanted to share how I go about thinking about taking a 2d concept and moving it to 3D. I also didn't go in depth into how to actually do the needle felting bc I don't think I''d be very helpful I'm a very good teacher by telling yall to just keep stabbing until it looks right (i'm self taught for this hobby),,, if anyone wants it though, i can share a bunch of tutorials and other felters' process that helped me learn more needle felting!

Hopefully this was helpful to someone! Feel free to send asks if ya got any questions or if anything needs clarification! Or show me your works! I love seeing other people's crafts :3

here have a cookie for making it this far 🥐

[moldycheezeit]

Chapter 1

You were a good kid, great kid even. But no one ever really knew, well maybe your high school science teacher and Alfred, but they were the only ones.  

Someone out there is probably thinking ‘‘well what about your mom she would surely care?” Well to bad she wasn't there, well at first she was, during the pregnancy, but when it was time for you to come into the world all of a sudden she didn’t fit into said world. So death took her away from you minutes after you were born. 

For that and maybe because you look like her, they probably wouldn’t know because they barely look let alone talk to you, they neglected you and it hurt because these are the people who are supposed to love and care for you. But with the help of Alfred you learned to take care of yourself which leads you to this moment. Like right now where you are standing at this very moment. At the school's science fair because you, even if people don’t believe it because of how pretty you are, are really smart when it comes to science. You learned for your love of science by reading a book that your mom had written and left behind after she passed. She left behind many more things for you but this stood out among the rest. It was mostly filled with ideas on things to create and ways that could make it possible. So you tried the one that you found the most interesting and figured out a way to create it. Of course it took a bunch of trial and error but you made it work with what you had. Seeing as Bruce never gave you any money ,like an allowance, you had to find scraps to make your inventions work. Now let’s get back to that competition. 

You are currently standing next to the table with your invention ‘the gauntlet’ yea you didn’t know what to name it. What it can do is tell you any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient. It takes the form of a bracelet but when activated it basically takes up the back of your hand and half of your forearm. It has two screens, one that you use to type and the other that gives off a hologram-like screen. Yea it’s clunky and doesn’t look right at the moment, but for your first model it’s great. 

While standing around waiting for the judges to come see your product you see a man. He looked to be in his 40’s and had short brown hair, a weird looking goatee, and was wearing… sunglasses? Indoors…welp at least he’s not wearing something stupid like a bat suit. He does look familiar but you can’t remember were from. You notice he’s looking around at the invitations and talking to the creators. And he seems to be heading in your direction like right now. He’s 5 tables away, 4, 3, 2– “Hey kid what’s this you got?” The man is smiling like he’s actually interested in what you have to say. That is not really normal. “This is a gauntlet I created to tell you of any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient.” You had responded to the man’s question confidently. “Wow you really programmed it to do all that.” He questioned, interested in the gauntlet that sits in the display case. “Yes, it took me a while to do it though.” You had said, uttering the last part to yourself. “ I can imagine seeing as I've done a bunch of stuff just like it.” The uh.. Weirdo, yea lets go with that, had told you. Now that surprised you, But before you could ask any questions the weirdo ,as you've dubbed him, started walking away. “Alright see you later kid, hope you win with that invention you got.” you could hear his voice starting to fade a bit as he walked away. And all you could think was ‘ Man was a weirdo.’ 

It's been a while since the judges had come over to your table, because right now they were deciding on who the top 3 will be. You kinda hoped one of them would be the red haired kid who made that moving metal arm out of scraps. To you it was just really cool. You can't help but hope to get in the top 3 as well because the winners get cash. ‘ I need that money so I can create more inventions, yea using what I have on hand is good but there is a limit of how much I can do with it. Not like Bruce would give me any.’ you had rolled your eyes thinking about that last sentence. Hopefully with the creations your mom thought of they could help you get enough money to never rely on that man again.

Just as you ended that thought the speakers in the hall started projecting what the announcer was saying into the mic. “ Can all the contestants make their way to the stage, the judges have finally made their decisions.”  You and all the other contestants start making your way to the front where the judges are.  luckily it's not that far of a walk and when you get there you all stand in a crowd.  when you all get there the announcer starts speaking “ even though we had a lot of good intentions this year only about three of you can make the top.  so we'll start from 3rd to 1st place in order of who got which.” As the crowd stands there in anticipation  the announcer starts speaking again “ In third place is kidd with his metal arm that he has made to help people who are missing limbs, we hope to see more in the future for him.” as people clap you see the red-haired kid you saw earlier walking up to get onto the stage in the announcer hands him a third place medal and a check with money on it. “ Now for second place Elijah who has made a machine that can take packages of  food and can make them into full meals.” Just like before you had seen this kid Elijah start walking up to the stage and when he got on the stage he had received his second place medal in his check that he had won. “And finally for our first place we have a (y/n) Wayne who has shown us a gauntlet. That can help people in the medical field  identify diseases  if they have a hard time figuring out what they are or what the patient has.” You're surprised to hear that you knew you were smart but you didn't know you would win first place. As you walk up to the stage you have a rush of excitement in you. Finally, you can have money to help create your inventions, your mom's inventions. you can finally fulfill the dream she had that she wrote in her books from before you were born.But when you go on stage the announcer only handed you the first place medal you were surprised to not see a check that came with it then out of the corner of your eye you see the same weirdo man from earlier with a big check walking towards you. “ Hey kid you won just like expected, hopefully you can put this money to use and make more amazing creations like the one you made for today.” But you couldn't help but say “ you look familiar.”  and happily he answers your question saying “I'm Tony Stark kid.” Ah.so that's why he looked so familiar. 

If you watch one piece see what I did there. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و I thought it would be a funny thing to put in. Also sorry I keep posting at like 1am its really the only time I'm free

Taglist : @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz @simpingpandas @galaxypurplerose @spqce-buns @peche4et3chocolat @ryuushou @moon0goddess @fanficloverlol

[asce-of-hearts]

hello! I love your writings, I would like to ask you for some headcanons of platonic aizawa, present mic, hawks and endevor (separately) with a girl from the exchange program who stays at her house

Exchange

contents: Headcanons of Yan!Aizawa, Yan!Endeavor, Yan!Present Mic and Yan!Hawks with fem!reader who is an exchange student who is staying at their house. (Platonic!Yandere)

more Aizawa, Endeavor, Present Mic and Hawks content here!!

WARNINGS: IMPLIED CHILD/TEEN READER.

Aizawa Shota - Eraserhead

For someone who looks so relaxed, he's surprisingly strict.

With a death glare he tells you to behave. But he's never rude. He's just very stern, overprotective even.

"If something were to happen to you under my care, ___. What would I tell your parents?" it's his favorite phrase in all the world. Whenever you ask him for permission to do something, that's always his answer.

The only thing he isn't strict about is your sleep schedule. So long your finish your chores and homework, sleep as late as you want and wake up at whatever hour you prefer.

He's like... a dad in every sense of the word. He won't praise you, in fact, he'll tell you you suck ass all the time. In a loving way. Still, sometimes you see that unique look on his face when he's impressed by you, or moved, or whatever.

Enji Todoroki - Endeavor

He's trying to prove he doesn't suck ass. And he fails rather miserably at it.

He tries his best to be cool, a cool dad, a cool mentor, whatever. He isn't, his jokes are bad and being around him is uncomfortable at first. Mostly because he looks so fucking angry all the time.

Getting to know him is hard, takes a lot of patience. But after all, you learn he's not that bad. He's strangely comforting.

He gives you a warm embrace whenever you fuck up. He specially likes it when you cry, so he can pat your back reassuringly as he tells you how special you are to him, how important, how in his eyes, you'll always be number one.

He's fairly easy to manipulate. Just act upset, don't speak to him much and he'll bend and break within seconds, acting to your every whim.

Hizashi Yamada - Present Mic

Hizashi doesn't know what he's doing. It's not usual that they put children over his care, so he really is puzzled on what to do. What do you eat? What do you like? Does he have to take you on walks?

He tries his best, even if that means slacking off a little and eating junk food a lot of the time. But he makes you give your best, and will make you work hard to earn luxuries under his care.

He's loud, he likes loud people and loud places. He likes rowdy children who will break stuff and get dirty. He smiles a lot, he's warm and caring, and a good guy in general.

He's very tender, often getting very distressed at the thought of you doing dangerous things. He always seems about to pop a vessel whenever you go on a mission without him.

Keigo Takami - Hawks

Hawks is absolutely terrified of children. Much more when they're gifted. He sees himself in those eyes, in those bodies. And he panics.

He tries to act cool, non chalant, like he doesn't want to wrap you with his wings and keep you safe from everything around you. Like he won't take a bullet in the head just to ensure you get home safe from school. He's very good at pretending he doesn't care.

Perhaps the most overwhelming of the bunch. He has eyes and ears everywhere, he knows when you're lying, when you're feeling anything, when you crave, when you dream, when you cry. He knows it.

He's all over you. Picks out your clothes, your hobbies, your diets. He's a control freak.

But he's sweet. Always offering you comforting words and reassuring smiles. Always having something to bribe you with, to keep you content. To keep you his.

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @DollyWonyoung @garfieldthomas @Aki-sazuku @akirahyoshi @pasteldaze @Voidthewriting @rania200527 @mizzhellsingstuff @lilyalone @jessicainhell @duchessofhell85  @rosemary108233 @yukimutsu @repostingmyfavs @artist-in-training-wheels @mod-kyoko @rina-404 @eroscastle @fan4mha @goldenglow149 @hbk99450 @stranger00001 @DelicatelyCraftedBambi @kitzusune @Blueivyoreo @lakxcpsta @stardustdreamersisi @coolnekochan9961 @notreallyablogger @skeletonblush @moondrop-gummies

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[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[frflyavenue]

Under Your Touch - Chapter 3

Pairing: poly!Ateez x makeup artist!Reader (fem!Reader)

Warnings: Eating and appetite, money is tight, (romantic?) tension, alcohol consumption, getting tipsy/drunk, reader gets overwhelmed, hints at trauma (reader), anxiety, casual swearing, flinching >>This chapter introduces some of Y/N’s traumatic responses, but doesn’t go into any specific trauma for now. All important to the story, I assure you :)

Author’s Note: LONG overdue update of Under Your Touch! Quick note I wanna make on this chapter—first, be aware that my knowledge of Korean is like… not good. That said, I’m a French woman who moved to America permanently to study, and for one year of my University program I studied abroad in the Mapo-gu district in South Korea. My Korean isn’t at all fluent, but I know enough to accurately use honorifics, add cultural details, and some vocab as I see it fit for the story. Also, I have NO CLUE how to romanize Korean, so feel free to correct me lol. Love you guys lots!!

Join me on ao3 @frflyavenue

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

WC: 6.3k

Chapter 3: Coats and Soju

“Shit-” You whimper, immediately putting the pricked pad of your thumb in your mouth, carefully setting the traitorous sewing needle down on the table in front of you.

There’s really no reason you should be so stressed about this stupid dinner party. Part of you knows that, of course. But the other part of you knows that this party is in celebration for the team hiring a new makeup artist (you) and that it’s purpose is to introduce her to the rest of the team (Ateez and their managers and also everybody else).

So yeah, you’re freaking out.

Your first thought when Hyerin called you this morning to inform you about the dinner party was what to wear. It’s Wednesday, meaning your first day is tomorrow. Cool, you still have no money. And subsequently, nothing to wear. You aren’t the type to go partying, and the only potential party outfits you could think of aren’t exactly formal enough for a work dinner. You could show up in jeans, but you aren’t sure if that’s a good idea for your first professional impression on the team. So, panicked, you went first thing in the morning to a nearby thrift store. On your desperate search to find something decent amongst the mostly ugly options, you managed to find a plain black turtleneck shirt, a cute black alternative style belt, and some men’s cargo shorts you hoped you could do something with.

At home, you began the desperate preparation to put something together. You grabbed your sewing kit, thankful to your past self for bringing your sewing machine with you to Korea, some craft scissors, your jewelry making stuff, and crossed fingers. You put on an Ateez ultimate playlist, deciding to listen to it just in case somebody asked you about their music at the party (you’re definitely going to be prepared, if nothing else), and you got to work.

It’s now an hour before you have to leave, and you’ve finally put together a presentable outfit. You cut the odd turtleneck into an off the shoulder top you managed to adjust to be skin-tight, but still modest. That part was easy. The hard part was the pants. You cut the legs of the cargo pants and sewed them together to resemble a skirt, before trimming the length to look nice on your figure. It was a painstaking process, but the result was a cute cargo skirt that went well with the black belt and the top. To top it off you quickly threw together some silver drop earrings and made a necklace charm to match, lazily disassembling one of your previous necklaces to make the process faster.

Now, you just need to get ready. You take potentially the fastest shower of your life and pull your hair half-up into a cute spiky style in a silver claw clip, braiding thin face-framing pieces to pull to the front. You spend a little more time on your makeup, deciding it should be good enough to prove to the team that you know what you’re doing. You end up with a cute smoky cat-eye liner, a dusty pink blush, and a very minimal base, deciding to let your skin breathe for the evening. You realize that, subconsciously, you went with a more alternative style to match the outfit, and you internally thank whoever gave you the strength to pull it together so last minute.

The outfit really pulled it together, and looking at yourself one last time in the body mirror before you left, you sigh in relief. You look at least half decent—better than what you had hoped, at least. Modest but still cute, and while your look was slightly more alternative style, you still looked cute and unintimidating, thankfully. You grab your purse, throwing on your one pair of boots and running out the door.

——————

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re absolutely freezing.

God, Y/N, you really are stupid.

You try your hardest to stop the chattering of your teeth as you open your phone to call Hyerin.

In your panic to get out the door with a nice outfit, you completely forgot to grab a jacket. Wearing a skirt was stupid to begin with, but to not even bring a jacket…did you want to get sick?

You push the thought aside, ringing Hyerin’s number. “Unnie? I’m outside of the restaurant!”

Hyerin lets out an excited noise and hangs up, and you only have a few moments to feel confused before she emerges from the door.

Seeing her, your face lights up in a smile, and you rush to hug her. She squeezes you tight, holding onto your shoulders as she greets you.

“Y/N-ah, you’re early!” She exclaims, smiling bright. You nod excitedly up at her.

”Yeah! I wanted to get here before everybody else did so I could settle in a bit.” You admit, and she pinches your cheek affectionately.

The two of you head inside, and she brings you to the private, sectioned off room in the back of the pub that has been reserved for your party. Hyerin sits with you in a booth in the corner, pulling up her phone and clearing her throat.

“Okay, we have a party of 13. All eight of the Ateez members, whom I’m sure you know of?” You nod affirmatively. “Good. There’s the main manager for the members, Li Dohyun-nim. He’s really friendly, but kind of shy, so don’t be intimidated if he keeps to himself. Then there’s Kim Ara-nim, the manager and main stylist in the Ateez stylist team. She’s also really sweet. You actually remind me a lot of her. The only other person that will be here besides you and I is Yoon Sohee-nim, the KQ planner that takes care of everybody’s scheduling. She’s really good at her job, but she isn’t too social, so don’t feel hurt if she doesn’t really talk to you outside of work.” You hum, repeating their names to commit them to memory.

After a while of just chatting with Hyerin and sipping on beer, you check the time. It’s 18:30, meaning the rest of the group should join you and Hyerin any minute now. You bounce your leg nervously.

While it’s comforting knowing that Hyerin, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Hongjoong would all be there as familiar faces, you still feel as if your heart is in your throat. To your surprise, you hardly feel worried about meeting the managers. It’s the thought of meeting the remaining members that’s currently making your stomach turn. Five new men roughly your age… why are you so nervous? Your mind wanders. It’s just a bunch of… guys. Men. Plus, the other three will be there too. You like them. You smile in spite of yourself, pursing your lips together as you take another sip of beer. Wooyoung’s hands… Jongho’s little deer… Hongjoong’s eyes…

You choke suddenly, feeling your face go red. Hyerin, alarmed, pats your back, but you brush off her concern and catch your breath.

What the hell were you just thinking about, Y/N?

You press your cold beer to your cheek, hoping to cool down the raging blush there, when suddenly the door to your private room creaks open.

The Ateez manager you saw during your initial consultation, Li Dohyun-nim, you realize, enters first. You quickly stand up, bowing politely in greeting, which he reciprocates. Then enters a string of new faces—two women and a few unfamiliar, handsome men. You respectively greet them each as they file in, hoping your blush from before isn’t noticeable. When Jongho comes into view, smiling at you, you feel yourself relax a bit, giving him a more casual hello. Just behind him, Wooyoung enters holding the hand of an unfamiliar, muscular man with a stony expression, though you don’t have time to feel intimidated as Wooyoung lets go of him and rushes towards you, making you flinch in surprise. Noticing your discomfort, he opts for excitedly grabbing your hands instead of hugging you, a huge grin plastered on his face. The stone-faced man he was with suddenly giggles, his smile immediately warming up his face into an adorable one as he tugs Wooyoung off of you, shaking his head.

”Wooyoung-ah, control yourself!” He scolds through giggles, playfully hitting Wooyoung’s back. He turns to you, bowing in greeting with a smile still on his face. “Hi, I’m Choi San. I hear we’re the same age, so please refer to me casually.”

You smile sweetly at him, finding him adorable from this impression alone. “Nice to meet you, San-ah. I’m Y/N.” He nods and casually pats your shoulder before moving to take a seat.

The last two to enter the room are Hongjoong and a taller man with a face prettier than most women’s. You clench your jaw to keep it from dropping, not sure if you’re attracted to him or jealous. He smiles elegantly, bowing and offering you his hand to shake. “Hello! I’m Park Seonghwa. Hongjoong-ah has told me a lot about you.” You feel your cheeks warm up slightly at that, glancing in surprise over at Hongjoong who also seems a bit flustered to be called out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Park Seonghwa-ssi.” You turn to address Hongjoong, smiling. “It’s nice to see you again, Hongjoong-oppa.”

All thirteen of you settle down, finding your seats around the barbecue. You end up sitting between Wooyoung and Hyerin, both of which you begged with your eyes to join you, while a waitress brings your table a few meats to grill. Barbecue. It’s been too long since you’ve had it. Your mouth waters.

“…Y/N?”

“Huh?” You come back to, snapping your head over to Hyerin, realizing you must have zoned out.

She smiles, tilting her head in concern. “I was asking if you wanted to introduce yourself?”

You gasp, suddenly embarrassed as you clumsily stand up and give them all a bow. “I apologize. Good evening everybody, my name is Y/LN Y/N, and I’m going to be working as the new permanent artist on the Ateez makeup team. I’ve already spoken with a few of your members, and I thank you all for being so welcoming to me so far. I look forward to getting to know you all!”

You jump as they all suddenly cheer out their own welcomes, their excitement far more than you expected. While most coworkers may welcome you and pretend to really care, it seems that the eight men all sitting together are genuinely excited. You smile, taking it as a good sign.

Taking your seat back next to Wooyoung, you frown as Hyerin stands up and walks over to speak with another woman pouring drinks at the other end of the table. She’s rather tall, with cateye liner and probably the coolest alternative style you’ve ever seen. You’re almost intimidated, but her smile as Hyerin-unnie greets her, and the way she tucks her hair—dyed orange—back behind her ear they talk helps you connect the dots. Kim Ara-nim.

You look away in time to see the tallest man in the room approach you, and you stand up to bow politely.

“I’m Jeong Yunho,” he offers, his voice enthusiastic but calm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You look up at him, not sure whether to be more intimidated by the fact that he’s almost a foot taller than you or by the fact that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You clear your throat, offering him a shy smile. “Nice to meet you,” you manage to squeak out, keeping your voice steady.

Wooyoung laughs amusedly beside you, but Yunho just crinkles his eyes in understanding. He gestures to the now empty spot beside you on the booth. “Mind if I sit?”

You clear your throat, smiling affirmatively and sitting with him, scooting over to give him room. Wooyoung playfully nudges your arm with his elbow, and you simply flash him a playful eye roll. All the while, Hongjoong watches from across the table with fond eyes, and while you feel them on you, you consciously avoid them for the sake of your pounding heart. Instead, you focus on the quickly settling party.

The members are all sitting close together around the table, joking casually and bumping shoulders. They’re all remarkably close, you notice, leaning against each other or draping arms over each other's shoulders. You’re surprised at how casual everyone seems for a work dinner, but you actually find the group dynamic reassuring. Hyerin has settled next to Ara-nim, interlocking arms with her and seeming more at ease and playful than you’ve ever seen her. Noting the light blush dusting your historically tough friend’s cheeks, you make a mental note to ask her about their relationship on a later date. Dohyun-nim, Ateez’s main manager, stays relaxed with the members, laying an arm around Hongjoong and ordering some meats to start off the table. The only outlier among the group is Yoon Sohee-nim, who remains stiff with a perfectly straight posture and an unreadable expression. Her eyes are trained on you from where she sits on the other end of the table, and unlike the warm feeling you got from the Captain’s, her eyes cut through you as cold as ice.

You shift uncomfortably under her stare, another shiver shooting up your bare legs. You run your hands over your goosebump-riddled thighs, but give up when you find your fingers just as cold.

In hopes of keeping your mind off of your discomfort, you glance to your left over at Wooyoung, discreetly trying to decipher his dynamic with the built man he’s clinging onto—San-ssi. They’re practically on top of each other, interlocking hands and so close their thighs are overlapping. Wooyoung giggles at one of San’s comments you can’t quite decipher, and leans forward to kiss his cheek. …Are they dating? You’ll have to ask Hyerin about it later.

The sensation of fabric draping over your thighs brings you back to the present, and you glance down in confusion before following the responsible large hands up to the man to your right. “You should’ve said something if you were cold.” He whispers, and you realize it's his coat that he’s tucking around your legs, still warm from his body heat. You meet his gaze again with wide eyes, unable to mask your surprise.

“Oh my- You didn’t have to! Are you sure?”

He shakes his head definitively. “No, I’m wearing a sweater under this anyway.” You try to refute, but he’s quick to stop you. “Please. I’d feel worse knowing my hoobae was uncomfortable all night.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, a genuine smile graces your expression. In the midst of bustling conversations and nerve-wracking introductions, it’s the most relaxed smile you’ve given since arriving. “Thank you, Yunho-ssi.”

He returns a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck and silently offering a nod in return. You almost think you see his ears turn pink, but with the dim atmosphere of the room, it could easily be a trick of the light.

You don’t have time to dwell on the sudden bashfulness of the man beside you, as Wooyoung is quick to grab your attention again.

“Y/N, you should tell us all a little bit about yourself!” He calls out, and conversations around the table die down. Feeling everybody’s eyes on you, you feel your heart quicken, suppressing your discomfort with a swallow.

You let out a slow breath to calm your nerves, giving the room a shy smile. “Ah, I suppose I should. Uhm…” You meet Jongho’s eyes, and he doesn’t hesitate to give you an encouraging nod. “Well, my name’s Y/N, and I moved to Korea about eight months ago. I’m still trying to learn Korean, so forgive me if I’m difficult to understand.” There’s a collective shaking of heads from around the table, and you bow your head gratefully. After that, you’re stuck, unsure of what else to say.

Hyerin, noticing your nerves, speaks up. “How’d you get into makeup, Y/N?”

Ah, right. Hyerin-Unnie to the rescue.

“Oh, apologies! Well, I grew up loving to draw. I’ve always been the artistic type, so ever since I was young I would find crafty things to do to pass the time. Doodling, painting, sewing… you name it. I may not have been a spectacular student, but art was the only thing that mattered to me. My first love.” You smile to yourself, reminiscing. “When I became a teenager, I started doing my own makeup. It was one of the only forms of art I hadn’t tried yet, and I loved it. While I mostly just followed tutorials and made up random designs in my bedroom every night, I still loved it, and I got pretty good at doing it on myself after a while. When I moved to Korea, it was still just a hobby to me, something I just did for fun. I found them really pretty, so I experimented with Korean makeup styles, found what I liked, and integrated it into my own style.” You gesture to your face as a simple demonstration.

“One day I went to the market near my apartment, not bothering to take of my makeup since I went for a more natural style earlier that day. That’s when I bumped into Hyerin-unnie.” You smile and look over at her. “And the rest is history.”

Yeosang, who had been relatively quiet throughout the evening thus far, clears his throat. “Can we see your art?”

Your smile falters for a moment with the tightening in your stomach, but you’re quick to recover. You mentally curse out your thundering heart and force yourself to sound peppy. “Sorry, I don’t have any on me at the moment. Another time.”

Yeosang shrugs, seeming only slightly disappointed.

Wooyoung tilts his head at you, but thankfully Seonghwa interrupts him before he can question you.

“It makes sense that you’re an artist,” the elegant man remarks. “It explains why you have such good style.”

You give a shy laugh, shaking your head humbly. “As do you. I’ve wanted to compliment you on your outfit since you got here.” You reply honestly. Conversations around the table have resumed, so you feel more comfortable now that you aren’t put on the spot.

He chuckles, his smile a beautiful sight. You can’t help but stare, purely out of admiration. “Ah, thank you! But seriously, I really do like your outfit. Where’d you get your jewelry from, I would love to get a pair of similar earrings.”

You let out a breathy laugh, bashful. “Ah, sorry, but I actually made these myself earlier today. I’m happy to hear that you like them though—I’d be glad to make you a pair!”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, leaning forward to try to see them better from his position on the other side of Yunho. “You made these?”

Yunho turns his head as well, and you feel your cheeks warm up when he gently tucks your hair back, wanting to get a clearer view.

The two of them both let out a long, drawn out exclamation of surprise, and Seonghwa compliments you again in genuine appreciation.

“Phew, I’m glad you like it. Honestly, I was worried the outfit wouldn’t come together. I didn’t have much time to finish up the skirt, but I think the length turned out oka-“

”Wait, you made the skirt too?” Seonghwa exclaims, his voice a bit louder.

You pause and shift uncomfortably at the attention, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place. You never were very good at showing other people your art.

“Ah.. yeah. Honestly, I had to make the whole outfit from whatever I could find at the thrift store earlier today, since I couldn’t find anything appropriate to wear for tonight.” You glance around. “Though I’m glad to learn that everyone is a bit more casual than I anticipated. Next time I won’t stress so much.”

Yunho lets out a low whistle of appreciation, and you feel warm from both sets of eyes skimming over your body, even if you know it’s just to observe your clothes.

“Are you sure you’re a makeup artist and not a stylist?” Seonghwa teases lightheartedly, drawing a surprised sound from your lips while you defensively shake your head.

Yunho smiles at your expression, finding it endearing. He casually leans closer so you can hear him better, his voice friendly. “Seonghwa-hyung is really into fashion," he explains. “You should ask him about it sometime, I’m sure he’d love to exchange ideas.”

You flash him a grateful grin, still a bit tentative but gradually feeling the tension in your shoulders dissipate.

From the sparkle in his eyes, you get the suspicion that he notices. “We’re the same age, right? Shall we drop the honorifics?” He suddenly requests, his voice smooth like honey.

You nod comfortably, your sweet expression sending warmth to his cheeks. “Thank you for your kindness, Yunho-yah.”

——————

By the time drinks come around, you’ve eaten your fill of countless different kinds of grilled meats. You aren’t sure why, but the members kept putting meat on your plate without you asking, simply saying they didn’t want your plate to be empty. San even airplane-fed you some pork from his own chopsticks, and while you were confused, you happily accepted, not the type to deny good food. Too absorbed in the yummy meal, you missed the admiring eyes from everyone at the table, not even hearing their coos and the chorus of “cute”s anytime your cheeks were full.

Now you’re leaning comfortably against the back of the booth while you fondly watch Jongho and Mingi bicker back and forth across the table. Hongjoong sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, and you can’t help but giggle when he pleads with his eyes to Seonghwa for the pretty man to put an end to it. Tipsy on a few shots of soju, Seonghwa simply sends him a silly wink and pours himself another.

You still haven’t finished a single beer, nursing the same bottle with small sips as you converse casually with Wooyoung and San to your left. The two of them really do bounce off of each other well. San is half way through telling you about a story from the Ateez dorms, already pretty tipsy, when Jongho clears his throat, raising his voice for the table to hear.

“I think it’s about time for a drinking game, yeah?”

Ateez’s maknae, you’ve learned, is an excellent drinker. An alcoholic, Wooyoung had jokingly dubbed him, watching him crack open his third beer of the night. You, on the other hand, hate getting drunk; you haven’t told this to your puppy-like coworkers, of course, but the idea of a drinking game makes your stomach tighten for the second time this evening. So, in spite of yourself, you agree, earning a cheer from around the table.

You take a quick trip to the restroom, returning to find soju shots lined up around each person’s place at the table. Now wearing Yunho’s coat around your shoulders, he glances at you from across the table, but quickly looks away to avoid your eyes. Before you get the chance to ask him about it, Jongho calls you over to sit beside him. Since the table order shuffled around, you squeeze between Jongho and Hongjoong, thanking the younger man when he slides an empty shot glass over to you.

“Okay, everyone’s here?”

The members all grunt affirmatively, and the captain smiles. “Okay—what should we play?”

A few different names are thrown around, and you swallow, leaning over to whisper to Hongjoong. “Oppa? I don’t know any of these games..”

His eyes widen just slightly. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think about that!” He admits, laughing awkwardly. He hums thoughtfully.

Sensing the opportunity, you clear your throat. “Ah, I’ll just watch you guys, don’t worry about it!”

Surprisingly, Mingi, who you haven’t even spoken with yet, pouts. “We would be happy to teach you an easy one~”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to drink too much anyways, I have work tomorrow.”

Mingi nearly argues, too tipsy to pick up on your cues, but Seonghwa is quick to hush him. “No, we’ll just play a game between the rest of us. If our Y/N doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t have to play.”

You exhale a breath of relief, smiling gratefully over at the older man.

San, bright red and drunk off his ass, pouts. “Aww, that’s no fair! You guys made me drink~” He whines, clumsily leaning onto Mingi.

You sigh. The poor guy had been peer pressured a little bit, it seems… though the first couple of shots were completely his own doing. Decidedly, you suddenly reach for an opened bottle of soju, pouring yourself a shot and tossing it back. Hyerin lets out a surprised squeak, and a few of the members cheer.

Yup. Definitely just men.

You cough, managing to choke it down. “There,” you rasp out, throat burning. “Compensation.”

Hyerin looks like she’s having a crisis, staring at you with genuine shock while Ara laughs next to her, patting her back. Jongho is laughing so hard you think he might piss himself, a sound you haven’t heard before but one you happen to find quite pleasant. You can’t help but grin, proud.

“Alright, Y/N-ah proved herself well,” Hongjoong laughs, hitting your back supportively while you cough on the scratchiness in your throat.

“Cute,” Yunho whispers, suddenly sliding you another full shot. “One more and I’ll accept your compensation.”

You shoot him a look of betrayal before glancing nervously down at the shot. While you managed to gather up the courage to take one shot, the thought of another makes your heart quicken.

If you get drunk, you could turn into him.

Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you’re quick to swallow it back down.

What if you end up like him?

You snap out of your thoughts as Jongho nonchalantly slides the shot towards himself before tipping his head back and downing it, not saying a word. “Yah, be nice.” He scolds, his voice completely unaffected by the burn of alcohol.

“Pfft, what a tank,” somebody teases, but nobody protests his gentlemanly gesture.

You can only blink at him with wide doe eyes, completely caught off guard and undoubtedly relieved. He just casually shoots you a quick close-lipped smile before turning back to the table and starting up a chant, presumably the start of a drinking game.

——————

Korean drinking games are really fun, you’ve decided. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching everybody, even the stiff-postured Yoon Sohee, slowly unwind with each shot of alcohol, the sounds of giggling increasing every round of whatever game they’re playing.

Now it’s getting later, roughly 21:00, and while the managers all decided to opt out of the game (along with San, though the poor guy was forcibly removed from the game for his own sake), the members are all still competing. Your stomach happily digesting the good food and your mind buzzing from alcohol, you’ve quietly brought our knees to your chest, curled up in the booth with Yunho’s jacket draped back over your legs.

Jongho lets out a particularly loud shout of defeat, and you jump from the noise. Suddenly brought back to where you are, you glance around at everyone around the table—how members double over in unrestrained laughter and shouts of victory or defeat; how Hyerin is asleep next to Ara, who is somehow seemingly sober despite drinking more than most of the boys; how Dohyun-nim is smiling fondly at the sight of his boys having fun; how San is cuddling comfortably with Yeosang, who subtly plays with his hair to keep him calm.

But amidst the warmth, you also can’t help but notice everything else—the sharp clink of glasses on the table; how the booth sticks uncomfortably to your bare thighs whenever you try to shift in your seat; the air conditioning trained directly onto you, occasionally blowing your hair into your lipgloss; Yoon Sohee’s eyes unwavering as they bare into you from her seat with the other managers, unreadable. Even the giggles and playful banter between the members, the same ones which had been warming your chest all evening, suddenly feel too loud.

You jump yet again when Jongho rests a firm hand on your shoulder, flinching from the unexpected contact.

“Ah, sorry Y/N-ssi,” he whispers, dropping his hand back down to his lap. “Are you alright?”

You shake your head at his apology, plastering on a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here…I think I’m gonna go step out to get some fresh air.”

He nods, not calling you out on the fact that you’re literally right under the air conditioning and obviously using Yunho’s coat for warmth. “Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

He’s too precious. “That’s alright, Jongho-yah,” you reassure him, not even realizing you switched to informal speaking. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods, letting you out of the booth and gesturing toward the back door to the secluded patio. “Let me know if you need anything, Noona.”

——————

The chill of the winter night cuts through you like a knife, and you welcome the feeling, taking a deep inhale of the fresh air. You take a seat on the edge of the downward staircase, taking in the view of the city lights. You push your hair back out of your face, failing to suppress your frustration when it disobediently falls back down. You groan, unnecessarily peeved.

God, Y/N. You really are stupid.

It’s the second time today you’ve thought that very thing, and you sigh bitterly, deciding it must be true.

You squeeze your eyes shut, curling up forward into yourself and clinging onto the thick borrowed coat. You run your fingers over the fabric, breathing deeply to steady your poor heart.

You don’t move at the soft thumps of footsteps approaching. Nor do you sit up when a tall, warm presence settles beside you on the top step, letting out a short hum to tell you that he’s there.

“…Hey, Yunho-yah.”

“Hey.”

You finally sit up, your expression failing to hide your tiredness. “…Sorry for leaving you guys without saying anything. I just got a bit warm.”

He shakes his head, his eyes understanding. “No need to be sorry. It’s understandable to get overwhelmed—we’re a chaotic bunch.”

Your gaze flicks between his warm eyes and easy smile, surprised he could read you so easily. You swallow and glance down, eyes landing on his coat. “Oh—I should probably return this, huh?”

He laughs quietly. “We’ll be working together for a long time, so return it another day.” You part your lips to protest, but he shakes his head. “No. Right now you need it more than I do. Keep it.”

You’re temporarily stunned, but hesitantly nod, hugging it to your chest again. “Thank you.” He simply hums, and the two of you fall into a temporary silence.

After a moment, he glances back over at you, eyes training on the way you’re hugging the jacket instead of using it to cover your shivering legs. “Y/N-ah, why…” He stops himself. “Are you cold?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah. But I really like the feeling of this jacket.” His eyes flick to your fingers, which are slowly stroking the soft, tactile fabric.

He nods slowly, thinking to himself. He isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol buzzing through his system that’s making him bold or his quiet concern overturning his logic, but he lowers his voice to a quiet murmur. “Hm… then would you let me warm your legs a little bit?”

You tilt your head at him, and he rubs his hands together, warming them in silent explanation. You can’t stop your cheeks from flushing, stumbling over your words. “Y-you would do that?”

He nods, his face innocent and genuine, though not overbearingly so. Experimentally, he lowers his hand to rest on your knee, slow as if petting a scared puppy. It’s exactly what you needed, though, as you don’t flinch at the touch, relaxing at how predictable he is. He watches you closely for any signs of discomfort, and, sensing none, he begins rubbing slow patterns up and down your thigh, careful to keep his placement respectful. You shiver pleasantly at the warmth, closing your eyes and releasing a content sigh.

If you were to look over at him, you would’ve seen the pink blush staining his own cheeks, gentle eyes darting around to look anywhere but you.

The silence lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable—just the kind that lingers between two people who don’t feel the need to fill it. The warmth of Yunho’s hand, the muffled laughter through the door, the pleasing texture of the coat held tight to your chest—it’s enough to bring you back to where you are.

But then he exhales, slow and soft. “We should probably head back soon. I think they’re wrapping up.”

You nod, pouting when he removes his hand and stands up, instead reaching it out to you to help you up. You take it gratefully, groaning from your achy knees.

He chuckles. “You okay now, saseum?”

You nod, smiling warmly up at him. “Yeah, much better.” You pause. “Saseum?”

His neck, warm from alcohol, gets impossibly redder. “Ah, sorry. I must be drunk.” He laughs. “That’s what Jongho-yah has been calling you—he said you look like an amsaseum."

You don’t know what the word means—a new one to add to your vocabulary—but you nod your head anyway. “Thank you for your company, Yunho-yah.” You flash a pretty, wobbly smile up to him. “You’re very sweet.”

He swallows, too flustered to dwell on it as he starts walking you back to the glowing door. “Anytime.”

——————

As Yunho suspected, the dinner wrapped up pretty quickly after you returned. Too tired to stay, you wished them all well, thanked them for the dinner, and left before them.

Now halfway through your walk home, you thank the universe that you weren’t forced to drink a lot—that would’ve made this trek way more difficult. Between general tiredness, the sleepiness that comes par for the course with pleasant tipsiness, the dimly lit streets, and the icy chill of the night air, you don’t think the added handicap of drunkenness would be a good sign.

Wrapped in Yunho’s coat, (which you’ve noticed now that you’re away from alcohol, smells like a pleasant combination of spices from whatever cologne he must wear), you hurry home, paranoid from the darkness and too cold to savor the walk. It only takes you ten minutes to get back inside your apartment, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off the comically oversized jacket, hanging it by the door.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to hop in the shower, take off your makeup, brush your teeth, and plop onto the bed in fresh pajamas (which is really just a baggy t-shirt, because who the hell can afford pajamas?). It’s only then when the events of the night hit you.

Despite your little moment towards the end of the night, you had a fantastic couple of hours. You ate good food, talked and laughed with a bunch of ridiculously good-looking men, exchanged numbers with a few of your new coworkers (most of which also happen to fall under the category of ridiculously good-looking men), and all the while managed to stay mostly sober.

Even during your little break outside, it wasn’t all too bad. It could’ve been, of course—most of the time, your episodes of overwhelmedness last much longer and leave you much worse off—but this time you had Yunho there with you.

Yunho.

You turn your head, finally able to let out a little squeal. Is he even real? Tall, handsome, AND one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met?

And is he fucking insane? Who in their right mind lends their jacket and sensually rubs their hands over a girl's thighs knowing they look like THAT? How could a girl NOT panic?

You huff into your pillow. It’s been a while since a man has been able to make you feel like a teenager with a crush.

Saseum.

Oh right, that word.

You roll over onto your side and open your phone, pulling up your translating app. “Damn my language skills…” you sigh, trying to type it in with your poor knowledge of Korean characters.

‘사슴’

Reading the translation once again, your ears turn red.

‘Deer.’

——————

EXTRA—

The quiet rush of the road is the loudest sound in Dohyun-nim’s car, half of the Ateez members whispering amongst themselves in the backseat, the other four hitching a ride with Ara-nim. Hongjoong sits in the passenger seat, busy doing something on his phone. Meanwhile, Yunho and Wooyoung sit in the back with a passed-out San, who sleeps with his mouth agape between the two. It’s quiet for a while, all of the most riled-up members of the evening exiled to the ‘loud car’—until Yunho, a little drunk, breaks the silence.

“I really like her.”

Hongjoong chokes suddenly, whipping his head around to look at him with shock. Wooyoung shakes his head.

“No, no, Joongie-hyung. Don’t act like you weren’t also crushing over her after you first met.”

Hongjoong immediately shuts his mouth, effectively silenced. He turns back around in his seat.

Wooyoung giggles proudly, turning his attention back to the big puppy of a man next to him. “I like her too. She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

“She is.” He pauses. “You should’ve seen the way she smiled at me.”

UYT Taglist: @obsessed-withthe-stressed @psychosupernatural @ateezswonderland @herpoetryprincess @nkryuki @thuyting @rosegracewood09 @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @queenofdumbfuckery @bbokarismeow @vtyb23 @soso59love-blog @mira-inlove @lover-ofallthingspretty

This Fic belongs to @frflyavenue and nobody else—please do not steal this work or any other works by this author <3

Chapter 4

[opiopal]

imagine just a regular human OM au,

as in like, no angels, no demons, no magic, none of that whatsoever, everyone is just their character trope but in a regular kinda sitcomy romance

RAD is just a fancy private school, Dia is like, the rich principals son who’s also like class president, and Luci is vice, snd luci made all his brothers join student council because he wanted them all to have at least one activity that would look good on a resume for them, mams is still known for being scummy, Levi is rarely seen at school cause he’s a shut in nerd, Asmo is super popular, ect. Ect. Literally it’s just them but… human. and mc showing up is just like, they qualified for this program and didn’t really know it(bc public schools suck at communication dog), and so they are suddenly told they’re gonna be flown halfway across the world for this, and the rest is history.

now, you guys are probably thinking, “Opi, you basically just said imagine OM but without the thing that makes it OM” and to that I say,

Yah lol,

BUT LISTEN!

it has potential to be cute, like, instead of big cool pact marks, it’s just the brothers who like mc doodling on their arms in pen when they’re bored, like they all do it and don’t really know why, but mc lets them so they do it. or like, mc is just given an item to signify that they gained that brothers friendship, like a bracelet, painted nails, a keychain, hairclip, a book, literally anything at all.

So maybe mc and mams becoming friends would have to be more of a hostage situation rather then an exchange??? Like, instead of “if I give you your credit card you gotta make a pact with me,” it’s “if you don’t give your brother his toy back I’ll cut your card,” and somehow it turned into mams hanging around mc more often, maybe he liked them being mean or something lol, we know how he is.

also, maybe this would make the brothers whole situation sadder?? Since it would practically be a highschool au, they’d all have to be like 16-19, so would this mean they got kicked out of their home after the death of their sister? Maybe their father, while in grief, decided to blame the seven of them for encouraging her? Maybe she got attacked/mugged, or got into a car crash with her bf? Obviously this work leave zero room for mc and her being related in a sense(maybe they had been friends in the past?) so the brothers beginning to like mc more would have to happen more organically instead of being pushed further along with the Lilith plot point.

Thought moving onto the other characters, Solomon is probably just a weirdo that’s into scifi stuff, and believes in a bunch of stuff(maybe ghosts are still real or something? So he gives mc things to ward off evil spirits as gifts) he’s probably still a student as well, but has back problems or something so everyone calls him old. Thirteen prolly just skips class whenever she feels like it(which is prolly always) so she’s rarely seen/isn’t seen until later into the series, but whenever she’s around she’s like, that one super cool side character that you want to hang out with but luci doesn’t allow it because he worries that she smokes behind the school or something wild like that. Mephisto I feel like would be that one kid you rarely see because he’s in all the honors and honors college classes, so unless you also get into one there’s a rare chance of seeing him around the school, though when you bump into him, he’s so weirdly passive aggressive, like sorry for breathing wrong I guess???? (He would totally get into a fight for someone stepping on his designer shoes) I could also imagine him pulling the whole “my father will hear of this!!” Crap. Though eventually he’d warm up and be pretty nice! Though wouldn’t wanna show it often in public, but he just might, only for mc of course. Raphael simeon and Luke are most likely those close family friends that you legit forget aren’t actually family because they’re so insanely close, and I can imagine they’re basically the same, though maybe luke isn’t a little speciest. Luke is most likely either just like, a 6th grader that is around sometimes, or is in a higher grade cause he was moved up. Simeon is on ao3, and TOL is totally an on going story he wrote in like the 5th grade and just kept it going because he realized people really really liked it. Levi is probably just one of those WEEEIRRDOOS who got the fics printed out into book format to keep physical copies of lol, rapheal.. I don’t know him very well, though I feel as if he’d be one of those like, eerily quiet kids, not like “the quiet kid” just.. he’s quiet, but you chat with him and he’s a bit of a nerd, not a raging one, but a chill one, and he likes his hedgehog, I could see him carrying a photo of his hedgehog around to show people.

now here’s the gag guys..

barbatos is the exact same, like there is nothing with him that seems different at all, he’s odd, he shows up randomly, he’s very attentive, and has his strong hate/fear of rodents. no one knows if he actually has any classes of his own because he just follows dia around all day long,

but yea, also no I’m not running out of ideas gang lol, this is just one of my many many OM AU’s I think about often, and I guess I’m just in a domestic mood today lol

[fashion-runways]

okay it's been over a year and i keep saying i'm going to make a new post and it's too exhausting to even think about the whole thing so i keep pushing it-- here's the link to the old post if you want a more detailed thing i wrote back then.

anyway, a year ago, out of the blue, our apartment got raided by the police, they broke our front door, they broke a bunch of shit inside, they took a bunch of our stuff, they barely gave us answers or an explanation, they took my dad and made it seem like he would have to sign some stuff and answer some questions and come back, but it's been over a year (since june 2022) and he hasn't come back, and his case is still up in the air. they're barely working on it. they didn't pay for all the shit they broke, they haven't returned all the shit they took, we had to spend a lot of money on that, i had to take a loan to buy a new computer so i could keep working and studying, on top of spending even more money on basic needs for my dad in jail and lawyers, plus blood pressure and anxiety medications, plus he's old and he was scheduled an eye surgery that he obviously couldn't go to so he's like, practically blind in one eye now, also new clothes for him to wear there (there's a bunch of rules for that), honestly i already lost track of how many things we had to pay for. it's been incredibly stressful and it still is even now that we've gotten used to it. he's been detained for a year for something that they still don't even know if he did and the case is barely moving, i don't know if they're like... i don't know, waiting for the man to die in there since he's already old so they don't have to admit they don't have enough proof for all the mess they made? i don't know. like i said back then, please don't ask me for details on the case or show up in my inbox trying to play tiktok true crime and guess what he did/didn't do. it happened a few times and it's extremely triggering, please don't. please.

this blog is basically my job. it's my primary source of income, i don't have anything else, no matter how many interviews i go to, in the country/city i live and in the state our economy is, if you don't have contacts it's impossible to get a job. i'm always signing up to free programs to learn new things while i don't have a job, try to make my cv bigger, but it doesn't matter. if you don't have someone saying “please hire my friend/family member” or you don't have 500 years of experience, they won't. so like i said, donations people make to this blog are how me and my mom (and my pets) stay afloat. it's what we use to pay for food, general groceries, transportation, electricity, wifi, water, gas, health insurance, stuff for my dad in jail, meds for my mom who has diabetes, food and meds for my pets. i don't go out much, i haven't gotten a haircut in a year, i barely spend money in anything that makes me happy except once in a blue moon when i stop feeling guilty lmao i had a redbubble account also that helped a little too, but last week it got suspended without an explanation as i was uploading new designs, so i don't even have that now. i made a new account on teepublic, but all my designs in high quality are locked behind redbubble and i can't even log into because of the suspension. it's... complicated, and it's a lot, but it is what it is.

i'm always keeping an eye out on new collections, new designers, new cool things. like i said, i love fashion, i studied fashion, and i know a lot of you use this blog as inspiration whether it's for yourselves or for your art, so i don't want to post all similar stuff all the time, i want to post all kinds of styles and brands as much as i can. which is why when i say if you like this blog, if you want to support me, sending even the smallest amount of money helps me keep going. living in latin america, the exchange rate is kind of insane, so truly any amount of money donated helps. unfortunately, i never stop needing money to survive and help keep my family afloat, but in the past year more than ever.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my (new) teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. if my redbubble account gets reinstated, i'll add that link eventually too. and as always, thanks for loving this blog and for loving fashion like i love fashion, even when i post crazy looking stuff, and thanks for helping. you have no idea how much your support helps, but it really does, i don't even know if i'd be alive right now if it wasn't for this blog.

[yautja-lair]

I just finished watching Killer of Killers and I have a few things to say and three words to start with:

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

THIS WAS AMAZING! It has easily became my favorite movie among the predator saga.

it's always so refreshing to see animation but animation + yautja? simply divine, it fits so well

The animation was stunning. Each frame was a work of art, the fights were so captivating, and I enjoyed every character. Getting a glimpse of possibly yautja planet? Lovely, it gave me some ideas already. I was honeslty just happy to see sooo many yautja alive on screen, i was so hyped.

Where do I even start for the yautja? I have so many things to say and 90% are just pure thirst.

I loved every hunter, of course, yet i also loved the human characters. Usually i don't warm up to humans but these ones got my interest right away (I do have special eyes for Ursa because i'm weak to the charm of a woman that can kill me with a single bare hand)

Dan Trachtenberg, Prey was amazing, Killer of killers is on my podium now, too. I can only have good high hopes for Predator:Badlands

Warning, from this point on, my rambling will become more suggestive and unhinged (and warning for spoilers, just in case someone else hasn't seen the movie yet).

(also outside of King, I'm not sure if these are official names for these hunters, but i have seen many mutuals adressing them as such, so i will do the same)

Jotun: Starting with the first to show up and my favorite. Do I even have to say it? Look at this absolute unit of pure muscles and sexiness. I do love his prosthetic weapon and how he just bulldozed his way into the fight (I was hoping for Jotun to be confirmed to be a big beefy female yautja but I love the nordic yautja regardless of gender). Sliding on the ice, reloading his arm, struggling against/breaking the chains during the underwater fight...I was biting the bars of my enclosure so hard I think I broke them.

Oni: Sir, sir, you are tall and lean, I like that too. I loved all of his weapons and his fighting style. I was kind of chuckling at the sight of him just vibing as he watched the two brothers fight. He really was like: "I'm just going to enjoy the show and then kick your ass." The way he sneaked around and jumped from roof to roof? Yess siiirr, you agile beautiful beast. Even the way he died was very cool.

Baron: *slamming my fist on my desk* yes yes YESSS. The way he operated the ship? Or moved on his seat or looked behind him? flexing all those chest goods on the screen? Oh, you bet I was paying attention. Among all the fights, the airplane combat is the one I enjoyed particularly the most. It was a new sort of hunting that I didn't know I needed to see with yautja on a screen (I love aerial fights).

Grendel King: "Huge boobs, I mean some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers. Packin' some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabhankoloos Big ol' tonhongerekoogers". His whole design is fascinating. The bone cape is so cool. Every time he spoke the yautja language? I was jumping on my seat of happiness (as well for his voice being indeed hot, but that's for another time). Not even using weapons, he was just throwing hands, beautiful. When he grabbed the face of Ursa and Kenji, keeping them on the ground? Move my turn now.

Now forgive me, I shall go think of domming all four of them, a person can dream.

I'm this close to start several Aus and a lot of oc x canon stuff just to take these fantasies and draw them (Jotun, Baron, you are the chosen targets)

Also, it is time to use my degree and clean the dust off the editing program and do completely self-indulgent edits about these hunters.

[empty-movement]

Empty Movement's 2023 Revolutionary Girl Utena UPDATE

Fashionably late? As always. 2023 was a HUGE year for Empty Movement, so much so that to confess, we did a big fail in actually keeping up with sharing the stuff we did! OOPS. So finally, we proudly bring you: all the Revolutionary Girl Utena content we dropped in 2023. Essays, artbooks, CD information, you name it. Click below for the entire site update, or get it at the source, as always, at ohtori.nu.

In Analysis (Fan Essays): • seebee's essay The Power of Living an Embodying Narrative is about more than Utena, it's about the fandom--including us. We were both interviewed for this piece, and the result is an absolutely beautiful essay that has helped inform how we do Utena stuff going forward. Thank you so much for letting us be part of this! • seebee's VIDEO essay FILM CUTS BACK | transfeminism in utena absolutely blew our minds and it's so good we're listing it. Look at the title. Just go watch it, it rules. • Nicole Winchester's essay No Choice But To Become Witches: The Bishōjo-Demonic Phallic Mother Dichotomy in Revolutionary Girl Utena catches you up to speed on the academic discussion around what might best be described as the shoujo manga iteration of the Madonna-Whore complex. Then, naturally, it finds plenty to say about Utena. Great work that was well worth the coding!

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In From the Mouths of Babes (Translated Meta/Creator Content): • Cross X Talk, A Round Table Discussion Commemorating the Second Musical Utena GOGAI FUCKIN' GOGAI. Nagumo and friends bring us the final untranslated part of the 2019 Black Rose Musical's program guide: the monster interview with Ikuhara and the director of the musicals, Yoshitani. INCREDIBLE content here that 100% lives up to the first musical's similar encounter! A must read!! • The Rose Apocalypse's Ei Takatori Interview The director of the mysterious 1999 musical (yes the machine gun one, and YES WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION ABOUT IT COMING) interviewed in The Rose Apocalypse book. This...is that. Thank you so much to iris hahn for translating, and I can't wait to bring you more of this mythology!!! • The Utena Dossier Animage Magazine's June 1997 supplemental, this 36-page Utena tome has ben translated by Nagumo with editing by Ayu Ohseki. Because so much of the content is in its visual presentation, I worked the translation into the original scans! Check it out! (PS. Yes that is an entirely different gallery on the emptymovement.com domain, no this won't stay there, yes it has been a weird couple years.) The Dossier includes two long interviews that are also worked into html pages for easy viewing! The Auspicious Joining of Manga and Anime: Saito and Hasegawa For Whom the Director Smiles: Ikuhara and Kitakubo

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In Historia Arcana & The Bibliothèque (Untranslated Resources): • There are a lot of changes happening in this arena!!! How and where to place different materials has been a moving target, so I'll do my best! The sites don't quite reflect this yet, but Historia Arcana will be for cover to cover Utena media, including special magazine publications. Something Eternal's gallery, the Bibliothèque, will be for magazine articles, clippings, and other things. Major artbooks will likely be in both places, cross referenced. New books in Historia Arcana: • The Rose Spiral: Reflections on the Mythology of Utena While not strictly official, this is a fan published book of in depth analysis of Utena, circa 1998! Yep, cover to cover. • Revolution Dictionary (OST 1 First Press Bonus) Cross-referenced from Audiology, this is the bonus dictionary you only got if you grabbed it early! Cool! • Revolutionary Girl Utena Making of Visuals Book Art of UTENA I am mentioning this for completions sake and because I already uploaded it, but this is a cover to cover high resolution, uncleaned scan of the 1999 Art of Utena artbook. I am going to clean the scans, and ultimately be posting the official artbooks elsewhere. • Revolutionary Girl Utena Photobook: Rose Memories This special Animage bonus could be purchased for 700 yen, and back then, was probably a great way to keep the anime in your pocket! It's entirely shots from the TV series, though, so there's nothing specifically new. But I scan it all, baby. New books in the Bibliothèque: • Chiho Saito's 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection HI THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Read more about why when you visit! TLDR? Here's some of the best artwork of Utena, rescanned and remastered by yours truly to be the best big big scans of big big beautiful Chiho Saito Art. This is a feast. I even made myself a calendar! (Note that the price is such that I don't make a profit on these, so if you're looking to donate, definitely go by other routes, haha.) You will find multiple ways to obtain the scans, and in more than one size. Either way you soak up the rays, enjoy 'em! New articles and clips in the Bibliothèque: • H! Rockin' on Japan Magazine Saito X Oikawa This fashion music magazine's July 1999 article has ALREADY BEEN TRANSLATED? Like, I am going to add the translation officially to the site of course, but holy hell Nagumo is amazing!! This article is actually the origin of a Saito art piece that uh, well. Now we know she went to a love hotel with movie Akio's VA. Cool! Anyway check it out! • Comickers Magazine, August 1997 This absolute monster find is an industry-focused magazine with this gorgeous spread and interview with Chiho Saito. It gets into how she does things. The making of Utena. All kinds of stuff. I'd LOVE to know more about this one!! • Comickers Magazine, June 1998 Again, an industry-focused publication, this time it's exploring the manga and the anime and how they compare. Again looks like a tasty meal!! • Volks Magazine, Spring 2022 YEP SCANS OF THE BOOK OF THE DOLLFIES. For a lot of us, this is at close as we get to these ludicrously gorgeous dolls. I included a few extra pages because they were just fuckin' cool and felt relevant. • Sega Saturn Magazine, December 1997 One of two grabs I got recently on Yahoo! Japan! This appears to be the first look announcement of the 1998 Utena video game! (Yes we have more on it, yes we will eventually post links.) • Sega Saturn Magazine, April 1998 This feature brings attention to the voice actors, who are all returning for the game! • Dengeki G's Magazine, January 1998 Another gaming focused magazine, with frankly a more adult edge, cheaply lets the readers know about Utena. These three game magazine moments are just a bizarre reminder of how we did things before the internet, LMAO

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In Audiology (Music and CD Information): • Complete information about the STAR CHILD - Girls Character Song Best album! You also definitely can't grab the two new remix tracks there. • Did you know there was a first press bonus dictionary for the first OST? I DIDN'T UNTIL RECENTLY. Now I know all about it, and so can you. Check it out! Obviously, scans available, both here and in Historia Arcana. • I FINALLY acquired a complete set of the Utena CD singles!! Check out complete track lists, scans, and information for ALL FIVE Utena singles. Yes. Including the movie Akio guy's one.

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In The Doujinshi Gallery: • Several dozen dounjinshi were uploaded earlier in the year, and can be found listed on the Site Update archive here.

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That's all for now, folks! There's so so so much coming. I have the episode 18 and 20 (!!!!) storyboards to scan, as well as a fully translated scanlation of The Duelist Bible. We're planning to do something for Anthy's rare LEAP YEAR birthday coming up, probably a musical stream or something! Love!

[not-quite-normal]

Hii! First of all, how are you? I would like to ask you what path you took to get to where you are now: working in the world of animation for big production houses. I’m very curious! Thank you so much if you will answer! 🙏🏻

hi, thanks! currently enjoying my canada day off from work weirdly in the middle of the week (had to work yesterday haha)

i feel like i've talked about my career journey before but i can't find it in my animation question tag, so sure! i'll start by saying that no one's path is the same; everyone that i've ever talked to has a different journey so best not to compare yourself to others and instead focus on being the best you that you can be.

for school, i went to capilano university's two year 2D animation program. when i graduated in 2010, the industry was in a big lull (similar to now) with not many jobs available. a few months passed without being able to find any work, when i got an offer from one of my previous teachers for a job a 3D show at bardel, a studio in vancouver that he worked at. i went to school for 2D so i didn't really know how to use maya haha (i had dabbled with it a bit in high school) but i went for it anyway. they let me learn in the office on my own time with help from a couple of the leads there and it was very overwhelming!! i was having severe doubts, that i was in over my head, i didn't know what i was doing, etc. but once i got into production, i had the most patient lead that helped me through my shots and i eventually made it to the end of the show. they kept me on for the next show as an anim revisionist, and then the next show after that was TMNT 2012! i didn't think they'd want to keep me on for such a cool show because i was still so inexperienced but i understand now it's because i was cheap labour lol (i think i was earning something around $600 a week at this point).

i worked on TMNT for about 5 years. working on a show like that for so long really let me do a lot of growing. every episode was a chance to look back and go 'okay, what can i do better this time? how can i set shots up to make my life easier when i animate them? how do i set this up in case i get notes about the action here? which shots can i choose to spend a bit more polish time on and which ones are more filler shots?' as with anything, getting good at stuff just requires a lot of practice! and TMNT gave me a loooooot of practice haha.

during my last year of TMNT i wanted to get more into feature animation so i took an iAnimate online course where i learned a lot about acting, working from reference, and developing an eye for more feature level polish.

from there i moved on to work at a couple of other tv studios in vancouver while i worked on my reel, but i ended up back at bardel for dragon prince. i only worked on a couple episodes of that before getting into sony though. i've never wanted to leave vancouver and i didn't want to work in vfx, so sony was really the only goal for me, even though at the time the most recent movie that sony did was the emoji movie ahaha, at that point i would have been stoked to be hired for emoji! i kind of lucked out that we ended up doing all these amazing and groundbreaking projects. i was hired to work on smallfoot, which was being done alongside the first spiderverse so the world didn't really know what imageworks was cookin at that point.

i was happy to just be an animator and had no ambitions of a leadership role. i ended up being pushed into it even though it was outside of my comfort zone, but as with my very first job, that feeling of being overwhelmed went away with practice and i love it now 8)

[comical-wheelchairs]

How I Work with Pre-K Kids as a Wheelchair User

I've given these tips to enough other wheelchair users that I figured I could make a post about it, and this blog is aligned enough with it that I figured I could post it here.

I've spent time as an administrator for a pre-K and school age programs, and I am also in my final year to be dual certified as a special education/general education elementary school teacher in America. I am also an ambulatory wheelchair user, but cannot safely move without a mobility aid, even when I am standing/walking. SO. Here's a guide/rundown of how I personally talk about disability with the kids I work with!

When First Meeting a Class

You do not need to explain/justify your wheelchair, and any adult who believes you do is probably doing it for their own curiosity and not an interest in the kids.

My personal recommendation is to say you are always happy to answer questions about yourself, and leave it open ended.

If the class had to be rearranged for your wheelchair and you feel comfortable saying so, I will sometimes say "I'm really grateful that you moved the furniture so I could get around. I can't wait to meet everyone!" It makes it clear why the need is there, and if a kid accidentally blocks you you can always ask them to move so you can get through and remind them.

When They Ask Questions

"Why do you use that?"

I respond by asking them what is 'that' - being careful to speak with a curious tone. For young kids, they might not know the word, and will probably point. From there you can say "oh! this is my wheelchair! have you heard that word before? i use it to get around since walking is [very hard/impossible/not something my body does]."

"Why don't you walk?"

I respond by telling them walking is something I can do for a little while, but it really hurts. Link it to a concrete example. "Have you ever gone into a super hot car, and you could do it for a little, but you wouldn't want to be in there all day?" "Have you ever tried to hold snow (or an ice cube) without gloves, and you could do it for a little but then it started to hurt your hands because it was so cold?" Make it personal, specific, and simple - developmentally they may still need support understanding that other people have different experiences (or might be totally unable to yet).

"How'd you get into that?"

I typically respond silly - "Well, I sat down!" If you want to, and you do not need to, you can make this into a (short, keep it short, their brains are so interested in everything and switch very quickly) lesson on transfers/how people get in/around with their wheelchairs.

"What happened?"

I respond by asking them what they mean. This typically leads to another question which I mentioned above. Alternatively I sometimes say "I realize a wheelchair helps me get around safely!"

"How do you use the bathroom?"

My strategy that's worked best is being calm and friendly while saying "I don't like talking about how I use the bathroom." If you can redirect after that (point out something for them to do, change the subject to something they'll find more interesting) it'll make it easier. If they ask why, you can say that everyone has stuff they don't like talking about and for you it's the bathroom.

Physical Interactions With Your Chair

They touch your chair

We had a big thing about this in my pre-K rooms - what we would do is if a kid tried to touch my chair (or did) I would tell them "It's so cool that you want to explore my wheelchair, but I want to make sure you're safe, because there's a lot of moving parts that can pinch you! Can I give you words for when you want to touch my wheelchair?" If no, then let them know you can't let people who can't be safe touch your wheelchair. If yes, give them a script to ask for permission - you will have to repeat it. A lot. Gentle repetition is your friend and within two months my kiddos were asking everyone permission to touch them at school. My script went "Teacher Pecan, can I touch your wheelchair?" "No, now it's a safe time, because [I am moving a lot/I am tired/I need a break/you have a task to do]. We can check in again [when it is a break time/when I feel better/when you finish your task." "Yes, it is safe to touch my wheelchair right now. Can you point to where you want to touch?"

They kick your chair

Every time a kid kicks/hurts your chair, say "ouch! that hurt! my wheelchair is part of my body, it helps me get around!" Repetition and speaking clearly are your friends. If a kid keeps kicking your chair, finding another thing for them to kick (for example, a ball) can help divert the kicking need into something safer for everyone :)

They (try to) sit in your lap

Gently use your hands to get them off or keep them off. Calmly say "Oops! My wheelchair isn't big enough for the two of us!" If they complain/protest, validate and then explain. My script is "I know it looks like a cool place to sit, but my wheelchair is just for me."

They (try to) push your wheelchair.

My last two chairs had no push handles, but my second one did! It can make sense to panic when I kiddo pushes you - I've had them try to push me into walls (by accident). Here's what I did that worked great: Immediately lock my breaks/grab my pushrims, and calmly say "oops! We don't push wheelchairs without permission!" If they stuck around/didn't immediately run away, I would ask them if they remember a time an adult picked them up and took them somewhere they didn't want to go (typically a car). If they say yes, and even if they say no, I explained that pushing my wheelchair feels just like that, and makes me scared. Most children never pushed it again, and everyone stopped after the second try.

Miscellaneous Tips

"Isn't that cool?" is your friend. Any time a kid is first learning about your wheelchair, end the sentence with it. Any time a kid is nervous about your wheelchair and you explain something, end the explanation with it. "It helps me get around, isn't that cool?" "These are called spokes. Aren't they cool?"

Wheelchairs can be grounding tools when you have a good handle on the class and boundaries! Only if you would like to. My spokes on my last chair were rainbow, and I would use my chair to physically get between them and the emotional trigger, and ask them questions about my spokes. "What colors are next to green?" "Can you point to which one is your favorite?" "Hmmm which color do I get if I mix red with blue?"

"Why doesn't [limb(s)] work?" My left foot is (mostly) paralyzed due to nerve damage, and my script is "My brain can't talk to my foot and tell it to move." You can say whatever you'd like, just try and keep it to basic body parts unless the kiddo is super into anatomy.

If they imply/say wheelchairs are bad, or you might be sad for being in one, you can correct them by telling them how cool your wheelchair is! Get them to compliment it too, if their attention span allows. "I don't feel sad about my wheelchair, I love it! I love the color! Do you? What color do you think I should get next?"

In conclusion - talking calmly, positively, and using repetition of the same words/scripts is a great way to not just exist in a classroom hassle free, but to get kids comfortable with disability/mobility aids at a young age. I have had kids get pinched by my chair (he grabbed my axle from behind), and luckily I had my higher ups on my side and they agreed that I made every effort to keep the kids safe (plus he learned his lesson lol, he always asked permission after that). Your mileage may vary based on admin and their attitudes, so play it by ear, and change any of my tips as needed. Feel free to send questions to this blog too. :)

[xvazx]

The Beauty of Our Chaos

Part 1 - Cool Girl Is Game

Introduction / Next Part

I never thought I’d be the type of girl to join a sorority, but here I was, standing in the middle of Delta Nu’s impossibly pink common room, surrounded by girls who looked like they belonged on a Vogue cover. Mariel and I had just moved into our new room at UPenn, fresh-faced freshmen, and after weeks of plotting, we had somehow made it into the most sought-after house on campus.

“Can you believe we are here?” Mariel asked, plopping onto her bed with a dramatic sigh.

“Can you believe how long it’s gonna take me to defrost my fake smile?” I shot back.

To get in, I had to fake it till I made it. I wasn’t their first choice—not even close. Delta Nu girls had a certain effortless glow, and I was… well, I was a computer science major who spent most of time trying not to collapse. But with just the right amount of preppy outfits, carefully curated small talk, and a convincingly chirpy “Oh my god, totally” at rush events, I had squeezed my way in.

Before we could even start unpacking, Missy Houghton, our sorority president, breezed in with her perfect blowout and clipboard in hand.

“Ladies, welcome to Delta Nu! Just a quick reminder of your very busy Initiation Week schedule,” she said, handing us a printed itinerary. “Tonight, we have the Ceremony & Oath, Tuesday is Welcome to Pilates, Wednesday is New Me Conference, Thursday is our Fundraiser, and of course, Friday is our Newbie Initiation Tradition—which is a total surprise, so don’t even try asking.” She winked before twirling out of the room.

Mariel and I exchanged a look. What did we get ourselves into?

After taking a short walk from the house, we went our separate ways—Mariel to her graphic design classes, and me to my Introduction to Computer Programming lecture.

The moment I walked in, I knew this class was a walk in the park. The professor started going over variables and loops, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Then, just to make it really fun, he handed out a pop quiz on basic programming concepts.

I finished mine in record time, turned it in, and went back to doodling in my iPad. A few minutes later, I caught the professor glancing at my paper, then back at his computer. After class, he called me over.

“Miss (Y/L/N), right?” He adjusted his glasses, scanning my student file. “You’re this year’s full scholarship?”

I nodded.

“Hmm. Well, judging by this quiz, this class might be too easy for you. Have you considered taking a level test to skip ahead?”

It wasn’t a bad idea.

Following his instructions, I went to Student Service’s to request a level test—and, as expected, I placed two levels above. That meant I’d be in classes with sophomores now.

That night, as Mariel and I debriefed in our dorm about our day, she threw a pillow at me.

“You just got here, and you’re already skipping classes? How do you do it?!” she groaned.

I caught the pillow and tossed it back. “I didn’t do anything. I bet everyone was gushing over your art skills today.”

“Shut up, Miss Genius.” she interjected my explanation.

TUESDAY - 7 AM

The following morning, I walked into my new classroom with a printed letter from the department in hand. The professor beamed as I handed it over.

“And here she is,” he said dramatically, turning to the class. “Our newest addition! Not only is she here on a full scholarship, but she’s also skipped two levels, meaning she’s already putting you all under pressure!”

I gave a small, awkward wave. The room was silent.

Then it hit me.

I was the only girl in the room.

Great.

I sighed, found an empty seat, and tried to ignore the stares. It wasn’t my first time being in a male-dominated space, and it wouldn’t be my last. I tuned them out and focused on the lecture.

Or at least I tried.

After class, as I packed up my stuff, three guys walked over. One of them looked… familiar.

“Hey,” the curly-haired one said, tilting his head. “This might sound bad, but where do I know you from?”

I turned fully to face him. Thick eyebrows. Curls. That annoying but weirdly cute smile.

Memories flooded back.

I smirked. “Wow. You really do have a terrible memory, Jonas Brother.”

His friends lost it. One practically doubled over laughing.

“Ohhh,” one of them wheezed. “Dude, she got you.”

Luigi blinked, then finally connected the dots. “Oh shit. Nationals.”

“Took you long enough.”

His friends were still cracking up. One of them clapped him on the back. “Dude, you always know the hotter girls.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So what, you’re in this class now?” another one asked. “Why haven’t we seen you before?”

“Freshman,” I said, shouldering my bag.

Luigi was still looking at me, amusement playing at the corners of his lips. “So, you just happened to land in a level 3 class, huh?”

“Tragic, really,” I deadpanned.

“Seriously, though,” another chimed in. “You should come to one of our frat parties. Now that you’re officially in our class, you are one of us.”

I barely held back an eye roll. Of course they were in a frat.

“Cool,” I said vaguely, already looking at my phone. “Noted.”

Then I noticed the time.

“Crap. I gotta go,” I muttered, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

“Where to?” Luigi asked.

I sighed. “Pilates.”

One of the guys perked up and whistled. “Nice.”

I cringed.

I turned to leave, but as I walked away, I heard Luigi’s voice behind me.

“See ya around.”

Without looking back, I just raised a hand in a half-hearted wave.

“Okay,” I called over my shoulder.

WELCOME TO PILATES

The air in the studio was thick with the scent of lavender-scented disinfectant and the soft hum of an upbeat playlist. Mariel and I sat on our mats, stretching, surrounded by a dozen other Delta Nu girls. Apparently, as bonding activity we had to sign up for at least one group fitness class.

Honestly? The politics of this house were exhausting. But if faking enthusiasm for Pilates was the price I had to pay to stay in Delta Nu, so be it.

Mariel groaned as we attempted another core-strength move. “This is a requirement? What kind of sorority is this?”

“The type that values toned abs over GPAs,” I muttered, wobbling slightly.

She snorted. “At least you’re suffering with me.”

We both struggled to hold our position when I casually dropped, “Oh, by the way, guess who’s in my new class?”

Mariel barely glanced at me, too focused on not collapsing. “Unless it’s the ghost of Steve Jobs here to give you a job at Apple, I don’t care.”

I smirked. “Luigi”

She blinked. “Mario?”

I chuckled quietly, my arms shaking from exertion. “The Jonas Brother.”

Mariel’s eyes went wide. She lost balance completely, flopping onto her mat. “OMG, this is destiny,” she whisper-screamed.

I shot her a look. “What?”

“Be honest,” she accused, regaining her composure. “Did you move from Cali to be close to him?”

I rolled my eyes. “Callatee.. you know why I chose UPenn over UCLA. And you came with me, remember?” (Shut up)

She laughed. “I’m kidding.” Then she tilted her head. “Wait… what’s his actual name again?”

I paused. “Luigi… I don’t know his last name.”

From my right, another girl—blonde, toned, and effortlessly balanced in the Pilates pose I had given up on—leaned in slightly and whispered, “Sorry, are you talking about Luigi Mangione?”

I turned to her. “Not sure.”

“Curly hair? Italian? STEM guy?”

Mariel and I exchanged a look. “Yeah,” I said.

She grinned knowingly. “Ohhh.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

She giggled, lowering herself gracefully into the next pose. “Just don’t let Missy stop you. She’s been trying for a year.”

I nearly dropped my balance again. “Stop me? From what?”

Mariel and the girl—who I now realized was named Kaylee—both gave me the same amused look.

I blinked. “What?”

Kaylee just shook her head, still smirking. “Nothing.”

Mariel’s smirk was even worse.

Between boys and core training, I wasn’t sure which task I sucked at more.

WEDNESDAY - NEW ME

Blah blah blah

THURSDAY- FUNDRAISER BOOTH

Pink. So much pink.

I glanced around at the Delta Nu booth, which looked like a sorority version of Mean Girls—pink banners, white ribbons, pastel decorations. It was all very on brand, and all very not me.

The only thing remotely acceptable in my wardrobe was a pair of white shorts and a band tee. Missy was not pleased.

“Don’t you have anything pink that is actually cute?” she asked, looking at me like I’d personally insulted her ancestors.

Mariel, clapped a hand on my shoulder. “She can borrow something of mine!”

I shot her a look. “Girl, where is my ass gonna fit in your clothes?”

She grinned. “Don’t insult your Latina hips.”

I laughed, but it didn’t change the fact that I was still stuck in a Blondie tee while everyone else looked like they’d walked out of a Tampon commercial. Whatever. It wasn’t like I’d chosen this sorority for the aesthetic.

We finally made it to the booth, where Missy explained the actual reason we were here—raising money for charity.

Noble. Love that.

Then came the catch.

Next month, Delta Nu was hosting a fashion show, and each of us had to raise money. The girl who raised the most money would win the ability to keep her own outfit from a designer catalog. Meanwhile, the rest of us? Our outfits would be chosen for us by our highest donor.

I blinked. “What the hell?” I muttered under my breath.

Did I accidentally join a brothel?

Mariel choked on a laugh next to me.

Students stopped by our booth throughout the afternoon, reading about the charity and looking at the fashion show details. Most were supportive. Some donated out of actual generosity. Others… not so much.

Cue Gym Bro.

This dude—overly tan, protein shake in hand, and all biceps—strolled up and made a significant donation. Not for charity, of course. No, he had one goal.

“To see her in lingerie,” he said with a smirk, nodding in my direction.

If looks could kill, Gym Bro wouldn’t just be dead—he’d be erased from history.

Before I could tell him exactly where he could shove his donation, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Well, well, not only is she smart, but she’s into the crazy life.”

I turned to see frat bros approaching the booth, all smug grins and easy confidence. Damien, was the one who spoke, looking at me like I’d just confirmed a long-standing theory about my secret double life.

“Surprise,” I deadpanned. “Delta Nu.”

Luigi smirked. “I should’ve predicted it from the Barbie Dreamhouse.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That Barbie Dreamhouse kicked your ass.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Now you’re coming for my reputation?”

Before the tension could build further, Mariel cut in.

“Damn, Jonas Brother, you got tall.”

Luigi glanced at her, clearly recognizing her face but not placing the name.

He snapped his fingers. “St. Trinity. Right?”

Bingo.

His friends took the opportunity to introduce themselves, wanting to get ahead of the game. Gross.

They asked about the charity, and we explained.

Of course, their intrigue had nothing to do with charity and everything to do with the fashion show. Free sorority girls on a runway? Predictable.

I sighed. “You’re late. Jerk-face over there already donated a lot to see me in lingerie.”

The guys gushed among themselves, clearly entertained.

Damien grinned. “Damn, we can’t surpass that.”

“You could’ve saved me,” I said dramatically.

“Too late now.”

“At least I can mentally prepare.”

Before they could continue their antics, Missy appeared out of nowhere, her signature flirty smile locked in on Luigi.

“Hey stranger” she greeted, voice a little too smooth.

He responded politely, but I could tell he wasn’t particularly invested.

“What brings you here?” she asked, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, just saying hi,” he said, nodding at me.

Missy’s eyes narrowed slightly as she turned to me. “Ohhh, you guys know each other?”

I shrugged. “Old foes. And we have the same coding class.”

Missy blinked. “Right. So, are you coming to the show?”

He hesitated. “I think I have lab hours.”

Missy pouted slightly but played it cool. “No prob, we can talk later.”

Mariel and I barely held in our laughter.

Missy got called away, leaving the rest of us in her wake. The moment she was gone, Mariel and I mocked her voice in unison.

“So nice to see you,” we mimicked, fluttering our eyelashes.

The guys chuckled, clearly enjoying the show.

But then, Luigi checked his phone. “We should head back to our booth.”

As they started walking away, he turned back, smirking at me.

“I guess next class, we’ll see who’s the better coder.”

I smirked right back.

Yeah, you better run.

FRIDAY - INITIATION

By the time sun sets, I was already regretting my life choices.

Mariel and I sat cross-legged on our beds, nerves sitting like lead in our stomachs. We were under strict orders to come straight back to the sorority house after classes, no questions asked.

At 6:50 p.m., the call came.

“Newbies, to the living room!”

Mariel shot me a wide-eyed look. “This is it. We’re either going to become legends or complete social pariahs.”

“Maybe both,” I muttered, standing and smoothing down my jeans.

We shuffled into the living room where the superior sisters, Missy, and the house mother were lined up in matching black caped robes, holding envelopes like they were about to announce a Hunger Games death match.

Missy’s smile was almost predatory. “Welcome to your Initiation.”

A nervous murmur rippled through the room.

Missy stepped forward. “This is a scavenger hunt. You will each have five hours to complete a series of tasks. Some will be… challenging.”

That should’ve been the first red flag.

She continued, “For proof, you’ll need to take pictures and submit them before midnight. Fail to complete the list, and you risk losing your spot at Delta Nu.”

The room collectively stiffened.

“The prize?” Missy’s smile sharpened. “You stay and earn the respect of your sisters.”

I didn’t care about the “respect” part. I did care about my scholarship. I needed to stay in Delta Nu to keep it.

She handed out envelopes. “Good luck, girls.”

I opened mine and scanned the list.

Some were easy. Others? Not so much:

• Collect a pair of boxers from a frat president and have him sign it

“What the hell?” I whispered to Mariel.

“I’m not touching any guy’s used underwear,” she hissed.

“Me neither,” I said. But we both knew that wasn’t true. I had to complete this.

When the timer started, we all scattered.

I powered through the easy ones first:

✅ Apply a full face of makeup to a campus statue? Done.

✅ Selfie with a Professor? Easy.

✅ Steal a traffic cone? On my arm.

Then I hit the wall: the boxer situation.

I sat on a campus bench, scrolling through my phone, looking up the frat presidents. Maybe this was my end. Not knowing how to seduce a guy out of his panties.

And there it was.

Luigi Mangione - Phi Kappa Psi.

Of course he was president. Because the universe hated me.

I opened Instagram to look him up. Luckily for me his profile was public and his latest story showed he was at the school gym.

“Great,” I muttered. “Guess I’m about to enter my villain era.”

I took a breath and ran to the gym, showing my student ID to the desk clerk, who barely glanced up before waving me through. Apparently, they were used to sorority girls losing their minds during initiation week.

I spotted him almost immediately, walking toward the showers with a towel over his shoulder.

I froze. My heart pounded.

I could leave. I could figure something else out.

But the timer was ticking.

Nope. I’m doing this.

I marched toward the men’s locker room. A couple of guys gave me side-eyes as I walked in.

“Sorry! Emergency!” I said, which only made it more suspicious.

My heart was practically pounding out of my chest as I stopped outside the shower stall. I knocked on the wall.

“Kinda busy, man,” Luigi’s voice called. “There are other showers.”

I took a deep breath. “Oh, I know that.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“…hi?”

Luigi’s head peeked out from the stall, water dripping from his curls. He blinked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

I turned my face toward the wall, covering my eyes. “I know this looks like the setup for a cheap porno, but I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

He smirked. “It looks pretty compromising.”

“Trust me, it’ll get worse.” I sighed. “I need a favor.”

He rinsed his face and wiped his hands down his chest.

“Let me get the shampoo out of my eyes, and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay.” I stood there, face still covered.

A minute later, the shower stopped. A damp hand brushed my shoulder.

“You can look now.”

I peeked through my fingers and saw him standing there in a towel, hair dripping. Men’s Health prepared me for moments like this.

“Initiations have gotten cheeky,” he joked.

“I need your underwear,” I blurted.

He raised his brows. “Come again?”

I forced myself to explain the task. He listened, expression somewhere between amused and shocked.

When I finished, he shook his head. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“You realize you’re asking me to walk home commando, right?”

I shrugged. “I’ll be disgusted if that’s your only clean pair.”

He laughed and pulled a pair of blue boxers from his gym bag. “You got a Sharpie?”

I pulled one from my pocket. “Here.”

He grinned and signed them. “So you need a picture, too?”

“Yep.”

He handed me the boxers. “Let’s get this over with.”

I held the boxers up in one hand, stood next to him, and snapped a photo. He smiled—a relaxed, easy smile.

“Be nice to them,” he teased.

“Thanks,” I said, tucking the boxers into my bag.

I bolted out of the locker room, the list and my bag on one hand and the traffic cone on the other, heart hammering in my chest.

I was halfway across campus when I heard someone shout my name.

“(Y/N) wait!”

I turned

Luigi—now dressed—was jogging toward me.

“What else is on your list?”

I showed him the list.

He frowned. “These are easy.”

“Not when you’re under pressure.” I interjected.

“Let me help you.”

“You’re not supposed to help.”

“I don’t see a rule against it.” He smirked. “C’mon.”

I didn’t argue.

We made quick work of the rest:

✅ Try on the campus mascot costume? It stinks.

✅ Steal a UPenn banner? Done.

✅ Buy a random guy a drink at the closest bar? Luigi handled that part.

We talked as we walked between tasks. He told me about his frat initiation—doors locked, food and alcohol flowing, and seniors throwing impossible tasks at them.

“Deadly,” he joked.

“You survived.”

“Barely.” He grinned.

By the time we finished, I had enough minutes to spare.

Luigi walked me back to the sorority house.

“Well, I guess this means you’re officially Delta Nu,” he said, stopping at the steps.

“Yeah.”

“See you in class?”

I smiled. “Unless I skip to recover from this trauma.”

He laughed. “You’ll survive.”

I ran inside, dumped my evidence on the table, and collapsed onto the couch.

Missy’s eyes narrowed. “You got everything?”

“Everything,” I confirmed.

Her gaze shifted from Luigi’s face on the picture to his signature. Her smile tightened.

“So?”

Missy’s smile sharpened. “Alright.”

I just rolled my eyes.

I was safe. That’s all that mattered.

@nosebeers

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

I’m not American and most of my knowledge is from movies and some research. Sorry if it sounds inaccurate to real greek life. But hey it’s fiction .

[lilahlovesjjk]

🇼​​🇭​​🇪​​🇳​ ​🇮​ ​🇬​​🇷​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇺​​🇵

Chapter 1

synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo used to be inseparable—the kind of childhood best friends that promised to get married, rule the world, and never leave each other’s side.

Then life happened.

Now, years later, you’re both enrolled in the same elite psychology graduate program—only this time, you’re rivals. Gojo’s loud, flirty, obnoxiously charming, and infuriatingly good at everything. You're focused, sharp, constantly proving yourself—and desperate not to let the past (or him) throw you off course.

warnings: angst, slowburn (kinda), swearing, eventual nsfw, (i'll add to the list if I think of any more as the story progresses)

– Summer, Age 8

The grass is itchy under your knees, but you don’t move.

Not yet.

If you shift even a little, the crunch of a leaf or the snap of a twig will give you away—and you’ve waited far too long for the perfect shot to ruin it now.

Your hands are a little muddy from crawling through the overgrowth, but you’ve got a bright blue water balloon clenched in your fist like it’s a grenade. He’s right there, not ten feet away, lying back in the shade like some smug prince in a storybook. His white hair’s a messy halo around his head, his mouth open like he’s snoring, and his stupid sunglasses are still perched on his nose like he’s too cool for real life.

Satoru Gojo is many things. Annoying. Loud. Impossible to ignore. But right now? He’s your target.

You bite your lip to stop from laughing. Almost there.

You stand slowly—just enough to get the angle right—and hurl the water balloon at him with every ounce of righteous vengeance your tiny body can muster.

It smacks into his stomach with a loud, glorious splat.

There’s a split-second pause, and then—

“HEY!” Gojo shrieks, jolting upright like he’s been electrocuted. “What the hell?!”

You double over laughing as he scrambles to his feet, dripping wet and flailing, looking every bit like a soaked, indignant cat.

“That’s cheating!” he yells, pointing at you with the burst remains of the balloon.

You wipe tears from your eyes, still laughing. “You said no plastic guns,” you manage between wheezes. “You didn’t say anything about balloons.”

“That’s, like... that’s a loophole!” He sputters, wringing out his shirt. “A double cheat!”

You beam, crossing your arms smugly. “Sorry you can’t keep up.”

Gojo narrows his eyes, and you know that look—the one that means retaliation is imminent. You scream before he even moves, bolting toward the hill with him hot on your heels, wet footsteps slapping against the packed dirt.

You don’t get far.

He tackles you easily, the two of you tumbling into a patch of grass in a tangle of limbs, laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You roll onto your back beside him, flushed and muddy, with grass stains smeared up your arms and across your knees.

“Truce?” you pant.

Gojo raises a brow. “Until dinner.”

“Fine.”

For a while, neither of you say anything. The air is warm and lazy, filled with the buzz of cicadas and the faint sound of a distant lawn mower. A breeze lifts the ends of your hair. You close your eyes, letting the sun paint gold behind your eyelids.

“I don’t wanna grow up,” you murmur.

Gojo turns his head toward you. “Why not?”

You shrug, cracking one eye open. “Grown-ups are weird. They never smile unless it’s fake. They forget how to play. And they’re always sad or tired or mad about bills.”

He’s quiet for a second, chewing on that. Then he sits up and squints at the sky, like he’s trying to map out the future with his bare eyes.

“Okay,” he says finally. “So... let’s not grow up like them.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

“We’ll grow up like us,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll be cool. And happy. And we’ll live in a giant house with a home theater and dogs. Lots of dogs.”

You snort. “You can’t even take care of your goldfish.”

“You’ll take care of them,” he says without missing a beat. “And I’ll do the money stuff.”

“I’m not being your dog butler.”

“Fine,” he relents, lying back again with a heavy sigh. “We’ll just order pizza forever and never do dishes. That better?”

You’re quiet for a long moment, eyes on the sky. Then, before you can overthink it, you ask:

“Will I still know you?”

Gojo turns his head to look at you. The sun glints off his sunglasses. He pushes them up onto his forehead so you can see his eyes—bright, blue, and so very certain.

“Duh,” he says. “We’re gonna be together forever, because when I grow up i'm gonna marry you."

Your throat feels weird. Tight. Like the wind is pressing down on it.

“You promise?”

He stares at you for a beat too long.

And then he grins, wide and warm and stupid, and sticks out his pinky. “I promise.”

You hook yours with his, and it’s so simple. So easy.

You don’t know that in just a few years he’ll outgrow you, you will see him pass by you in the hallways without sparing you a second glance. You won’t hear from him. You'll wait and wonder and outgrow the field you used to conquer together.

But right now, you believe him.

Because Gojo Satoru has never broken a promise to you.

Not yet.

And then the bus screeches to a halt, jolting you back into the present so hard your teeth knock together.

You blink hard, vision clearing just in time to see the stop sign flash past.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, "I'm gonna be late." You scramble to grab your bag and jump out of your seat.

The bus doors hiss open, and you leap down the steps like they’ve burned you.

The air is thick with the late-summer heat that clings to everything, and your backpack bounces against your spine as you take off at a half-run, dodging slower pedestrians on the sidewalk with the precision of someone who refuses to be the person who walks into class late on the first day.

You barely glance at the campus you’ve spent the last week trying to emotionally prepare yourself for. It’s prestigious. Gorgeous. Overachieving in that old-money kind of way. Red brick buildings covered in ivy. Classical columns. Students who already look like they’ve read Freud in Latin.

Your stomach churns with nerves and caffeine and adrenaline.

Psych grad school. You made it. You’re here. You’re—

Five goddamn minutes late.

You shove the heavy door open to the psych building and stumble into the main lecture hall, breath catching as your eyes sweep the room. It’s sleek and modern, filled with floor-to-ceiling windows and that painfully sterile academic lighting. The room is basically entirely full.

You bite down a curse and step inside as quietly as you can. The professor hasn’t started speaking yet, thankfully, though she��s flipping through her notes at the podium with thinly veiled impatience.

You scan the rows.

And freeze.

Because of course the only empty seat left in the entire godforsaken room is next to him.

Gojo Satoru.

You nearly choke.

He’s lounging in the seat like he owns it, one arm slung over the back of your empty chair, legs sprawled out comfortably, sunglasses still perched arrogantly on his nose despite the fact that you’re indoors. His white hair is messier than you remember. The curve of his jaw has sharpened. The cocky grin on his face? Unchanged. Timeless. Infuriating.

Your heart stutters once in your chest—and then slams back into your ribs like it’s trying to make a break for it.

You haven’t seen him in years.

Not since he stopped talking to you.

Not since he broke a promise with a pinky and a smile.

And now he’s sitting there, as if no time has passed at all.

You move before you can think, before your legs decide to betray you completely. You make your way down the aisle, eyes forward, shoulders squared like you’re going into battle.

He notices you halfway down the steps.

You can feel the exact moment he recognizes you.

“...angel?”

His voice is low, curious. Disbelieving. A slow grin spreads across his face like the sun rising to mock you personally.

“No way. No way.”

You drop your bag next to the seat and sit down without looking at him.

“Don’t call me that,” you say, voice tight.

He leans over slightly, like he’s trying to make sure it’s really you. “Holy shit. It is you.”

“Gojo,” you acknowledge coolly, fixing your gaze on the front of the lecture hall.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, cheerfully:

“You look good.”

“Do not flirt with me,” you snap.

“Who’s flirting?” he says innocently. “Maybe I’m just surprised you turned out so—” He flicks his fingers vaguely toward your face. “—symmetrical.”

You grit your teeth. “And you turned out exactly like I thought. Arrogant. Unbearably loud. And wearing sunglasses indoors.”

“They’re prescription,” he lies.

“They’re not.”

He shrugs, clearly pleased with himself. “Still mad at me, huh?”

You shoot him a look that could cut steel. “Mad? No. I don’t waste energy on people who just basically disappear like cowards.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow. Right in the ego.”

“You don’t have an ego. You are an ego.”

The professor clears her throat at the front, and the class falls into silence. She introduces herself as Dr. Yuki and launches into the syllabus, but your focus is already shot to hell. You’re hyper-aware of Gojo next to you. The faint scent of his cologne. The way his long fingers tap restlessly against his notebook. The occasional sideways glance he throws you like he’s dying to say something else.

Halfway through the lecture, she opens the floor for discussion—early theories of personality and identity formation.

You raise your hand.

So does he.

You both speak at once.

She points to you.

"Adverse Childhood Experiences, like abuse, neglect, and household dysfunction, can disrupt brain development leading to long-term negative impacts on physical and mental health." you explain, "Some may argue though that ones genetic temperament they inherit from their parents may also shape how they turn out. While I do agree that genetics may cause some of it, I have to agree with Vygotsky when he says that the environment and social interactions does play a more substantial role in early development."

You hear a few murmurs of encouragement and classmates sharing ideas based off of what you just said, you fit in here even though you were the only one late.

"Well done. That was very well explained, I can see you doing well in this class." Dr Yuki says with a nod

Gojo raises his hand. Of course he does.

“I mean, sure, environment’s huge,” he says lazily. “But your explanation on the way individual temperament shapes how a person interprets that environment was lacking. Two kids in the same house, totally different outcomes. Like me and—” he gestures toward you with a grin, “—my charming rival over here.”

You glare at him. “I’m not your rival.”

“Aw,” he says, eyes sparkling. “You’re right. You’re more of a—what’s the word? Stalker?”

A few students laugh.

You want to strangle him with your tote bag.

Gojo spoke up again to continue his point. “Anyways, two people raised under the same roof can have wildly different outcomes because of how they’re wired from the start. Personality traits like resilience, impulsivity, emotional regulation—they aren’t always shaped by the environment. Sometimes they shape how someone responds to it. You’ve got to factor in nature and nurture, or you’re missing half the picture.”

He shrugs, leaning back again, his voice annoyingly smooth.

“I’m just saying, not everyone who grows up in a tough household ends up traumatized. Some people—” he tilts his head, his grin curling into something a little sharper, “—come out even stronger.”

Your jaw tightens.

It’s a valid point, sure. But you know the tone he’s using—like this is a game. Like your answer was just an opening for him to show off.

“Interesting insight,” Dr. Yuki says neutrally, though she gives you a small, encouraging glance. “The interaction between temperament and environment is, of course, highly complex and still being studied. You two make a good pair of thinkers. Keep it up.”

Gojo shoots you a wink. You fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard they detach.

The rest of the class breezes by in a blur of academic introductions and syllabus breakdowns. You try to refocus, but Gojo’s presence next to you is like a flickering neon sign. Loud. Distracting. Impossible to ignore. He doesn’t talk again, thankfully, but you can feel his attention flicking toward you now and then, like he’s just waiting for you to snap back.

You don’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you copy down the reading list with mechanical precision and pack up your things the moment Dr. Yuki dismisses the class.

“Don’t run away, angel,” Gojo drawls the second you stand. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”

You whirl around so fast your ponytail nearly whips him in the face.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, your voice low enough that only he can hear. “We’re not eight anymore, and we’re not friends.”

He leans on the desk, utterly unbothered. “Didn’t say we were. Though the chemistry? Still there.”

“Chemistry?” You scoff. “There’s more chemistry between a paperclip and a microwave.”

His grin grows. “Kinky.”

You stare at him.

Gojo Satoru has always had this uncanny ability to derail you with just a few words, like your entire nervous system short-circuits on contact. He knows it too—he drinks it in, like your frustration is the most refreshing thing in the world.

You shoulder your bag and march down the steps toward the door. But before you can make a clean getaway, you hear his footsteps behind you.

“Wait up,” he calls, catching up easily. “Walk me to class?”

You snort. “No.”

“C’mon,” he says, eyes glinting. “For old time’s sake.”

“That’s exactly why I’m saying no.”

He laughs, and it’s that same carefree sound that used to echo across your backyard and down the hallways of your childhood. It used to make you smile without thinking.

Now it just makes you want to punch something soft and expensive.

The two of you step into the hallway, where a rush of students swarm past, their voices echoing off the polished tile floors and high ceilings. The psych building smells like lemon cleaner and overachieving.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he says, falling into step beside you like this is normal. Like he belongs next to you again. “You did miss me, right?”

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, winking. “It’s embarrassing.”

You stop in the middle of the hallway, making a group of passing undergrads grumble as they sidestep around you.

“Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he corrects with a shit-eating grin.

You ignore him. “You think this is some kind of joke, don’t you? Like you can just show up after all these years, tease me a little, and we’ll fall back into the same rhythm?”

He tilts his head, mouth still curved like he’s seconds away from another quip. But this time... his eyes shift. Just a little. Like he’s searching your face for something.

“No,” he says. “Not a joke.”

You wait, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

But he says nothing else.

Instead, he leans against a nearby column and lets his eyes wander, like he's suddenly too cool to look at you directly. “You really went all in on psych, huh?”

“I didn’t realize I needed your approval.”

“Didn’t say that. Just... impressed.”

You blink. “You’re impressed I’m in grad school?”

“No,” he says, eyes sliding back to yours. “I’m impressed you still argue like you’ve got something to prove.”

The air between you sharpens. You know what he’s really saying. That you’ve always been this way—clawing your way toward perfection, carrying something on your back that he never had to. You’ve always felt like you were running out of time, while he was coasting on endless charm and raw brilliance.

That sting burns down your throat.

You shift your grip on your bag and step away. “Some of us don’t get to coast through life on vibes and daddy’s credit card.”

His eyes flicker. You see it—the flash of something dark, something vulnerable—but then it’s gone. Walled off behind his sunglasses again.

You hate that it makes you feel guilty.

“I’ve got criminology next,” you say, voice clipped.

Gojo straightens up, clearly deciding to let your jab slide. “Still into crime shows, huh? Let me guess. Still think you’re gonna psychoanalyze serial killers and end up on a Netflix docuseries.”

You roll your eyes. “I’d rather end up on Netflix than a Buzzfeed article titled ‘College Clown Dunks on Childhood Best Friend in Lecture.’”

“Catchy title,” he says. “Bet it’d go viral.”

“I’m sure you’d make sure of it.”

You both reach the intersection between halls. He stops first, hands in his pockets, hair catching the sunlight from the tall windows. For a second, he just watches you.

“Hey,” he says, softer now. “I wasn’t trying to ruin your moment in class.”

You blink.

He shrugs. “I was just... trying to talk to you. Y’know. Like the old days.”

You study him. The smirk is still there, but it’s thinner. Like it’s holding back something real. You remember one of the last times you saw him—on that hill, his pinky linked with yours.

You want to hate him.

But you never could.

The apartment smells like sesame oil, soy sauce, and victory.

You and Shoko sit cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by takeout containers and chopsticks like two dragons guarding their hoard. Your laptop is somewhere under the chaos, long forgotten in favor of spring rolls and sweet and sour chicken. The coffee table is a battlefield: orange chicken juice has bled into the napkins, someone definitely spilled chili oil on the remote, and there are at least three fortune cookies smashed open like tiny edible grenades.

“Okay,” Shoko says, waving a dumpling in the air like it’s a gavel, “but hear me out—what if we just quit grad school and open a food truck called Freud and Fries?”

You choke on your lo mein. “What are we serving? Deep-fried childhood trauma?”

“Exactly. Repress it and fry it.” She takes a victorious bite of her dumpling. “Our signature item could be the 'Oedipal Combo Platter.' Comes with mommy issues and a side of existential dread.”

You collapse into giggles, nearly knocking over the hot and sour soup. “We’d go bankrupt from the lawsuits alone.”

Shoko shrugs, unbothered. “Worth it. At least I’d die with some dignity. Or MSG.”

You're both dressed in your laziest pajamas—yours a faded t-shirt with cracked letting that says PSYCH ME UP, paired with polka-dotted pajama pants, and Shoko’s a vintage Hello Kitty set two sizes too big. You both have thick, goopy face masks on—Shoko’s is mint green and smells faintly of cucumbers, and yours is some trendy charcoal detox thing that has turned your face into a matte gray void. You feel like a sexy Halloween ghost.

Shoko sticks a spoon into the pint of fried rice between you and narrows her eyes. “You looked stressed when you came in.”

You grunt in agreement and flop dramatically into the couch cushions. “I had to listen to four different people misquote Piaget in a row during discussion.”

She winces. “Brutal.”

“One of them said children don’t develop object permanence until they’re like, six.”

Shoko looks scandalized. “Six? What do they think babies are? Goldfish?”

“Apparently! I was this close to throwing my textbook across the room like it was a damn Pokéball.”

You mime it, complete with sound effects. Shoko offers a slow, respectful golf clap.

There’s a lull while you both snack, content with the comforting crunch of dumplings and the low hum of your apartment’s ancient heater clanking in the background. The city outside is muffled through the window, its glow filtering through the curtains and casting a sleepy amber hue over your living room.

You exhale, forehead pressed to your palm. “It’s just been... a day, you know? All this talk about childhood trauma and brain development and I’m sitting there thinking, like, damn. Maybe I should’ve been a barista instead.”

Shoko hums thoughtfully. “I think you’d be a menace with a milk frother.”

You grin. “I would be. ‘You want extra foam? How about some extra childhood baggage too?’”

She clinks her glass of wine against your soda can like it’s a toast. “To repression and cappuccinos.”

You lean back into the couch, letting yourself melt into the cushions like overcooked tofu.

“You ever think about how different things felt when we were kids?” you ask, voice quieter now, eyes focused on the ceiling. “Like… how we thought growing up meant knowing everything? Being sure of yourself?”

Shoko looks over at you, her mask starting to crack around the edges.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But I think we also assumed being an adult meant not feeling like a mess all the time.”

You smile faintly. “Remember back in high school when I used to hang out at your house after school and we’d make those horrible microwave brownies?”

Shoko smirks. “You mean the ones we drowned in whipped cream to hide the taste of burned chocolate?”

“Those,” you laugh. “We thought we were culinary geniuses.”

“You also tried to make a ‘trauma-free playlist’ on my iPod that was just ABBA songs.”

“That was a masterpiece.”

“You put ‘Dancing Queen’ on there three times.”

“I was trying to manifest joy!”

You both burst into laughter again, until your cheeks hurt and your stomach aches from all the dumplings and giddy exhaustion.

When the laughter fades, you sit in silence for a moment, face tilted toward the ceiling, your voice thoughtful when you finally say, “We used to dream about what kind of adults we’d be. I thought I’d have it all figured out by now.”

Shoko leans her head against your shoulder.

“I think we are figuring it out. Just slowly. And with worse skincare habits than we expected.”

You sigh. “You know what’s weird? Sitting in class today, talking about how much childhood experiences shape your whole brain—it made me remember things. Like, out of nowhere. Stuff I haven’t thought about in years.”

“Like what?”

You hesitate for a beat. Then: “Like... this kid I used to be close with in elementary school. We were inseparable back then. Always swore we’d stay best friends. He was loud and ridiculous and so sure of himself. I used to think he’d grow up to be famous or something. Or, I don’t know... still be around.”

Shoko doesn’t press you, just gives your knee a nudge with hers.

“You miss him?”

You poke at a leftover dumpling with your chopsticks. “Maybe. Or maybe I just miss how simple everything felt back then. Like the future was some shiny thing we were racing toward together. Now it’s just... this blur of stress and student loans.”

You let out a long sigh, shoulders finally sagging into the couch. “Why does he still get to me? Like—we haven’t been close in years. We’re not friends anymore. So why does he walk into a room and suddenly I’m ten years old again, begging him to pinky promise he’ll still like me when we grow up?”

There it is.

The air shifts just a little.

Shoko doesn’t say anything right away. She wipes the excess mask from the tip of your nose with the cat paw brush before responding.

“Because you’re still mad,” she says gently. “You’re still hurt.”

You don’t answer, eyes fixed on the sesame chicken.

“He was your best friend,” she continues. “And then one day he wasn’t. And instead of giving you closure, he just... popped back into your life with a smirk and perfect teeth and no explanation.”

“God,” you mutter, “his teeth are perfect.”

Shoko hums in agreement.

You chew your lip, hating how true it all is. “It’s not even that he left. I mean, yeah, that sucked. But it’s that he never said why. We just drifted. He got popular, got loud. And when I asked what was going on, he just gave me that stupid grin and said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Angel.’”

You blink hard.

“I’m still worrying about it.”

Shoko leans her head against your shoulder. “That’s because you never stopped caring.”

Shoko holds up a fortune cookie like a priest offering a blessing. “Here. This will cure your existential dread.”

You crack it open and read the tiny slip aloud: "You will soon receive the answer you’ve been seeking."

You both stare at it.

Then you deadpan, “If this thing is talking about my psych midterm, it’s a liar.”

Shoko snorts and tosses the fortune at the coffee table. “I hope the answer is Chinese food leftovers for breakfast.”

You grin. “We’re the smartest people in this program.”

As you both settle into the warmth of the couch, surrounded by the crumbs of your feast and the peeling bits of face mask flaking onto your pajama shirts, it strikes you just how much you needed this.

A quiet night. A stupid, cozy night.

No academic pressure. No pretending to be fine. No thinking too hard about people you used to know or feelings you’re still untangling.

Just you. Shoko. And six kinds of chicken.

Honestly? Not a bad way to grow up after all.

[arreat]

more dp/poolverine headcanons!!! i am normal about them 👍 (can you tell I can't write dialogue for shit? yeah have this pile of Description)

Wade Wilson is not a strong man. Well, he is virtually indestructible and extremely skilled at fighting, but that isn't to say he has no weaknesses. Wade worries too much, has crap self-esteem, struggles with existentialism (no thanks to the voices), and obviously the whole abused chew toy thing he has going for his skin is not helping his confidence. In fact, one could argue that you could harm Wade more just by insulting one of his weak points.

The creation of Deadpool was to cover all of that cause what better way to cover your insecurities than red spandex, an armory of weapons, and many, many (bad) jokes? Enemies can't poke your soft spots if you've distracted them with terrible innuendos and references to increasingly obscure media. The joking is a defense mechanism, the aggressive chatter is to make sure Wade's thoughts don't spiral, and the mask is uh, literally and figuratively a mask (to get into character, of course).

When Logan thought he first met Wade, he actually met Deadpool, the cocky, leering, and loud merc who can't be serious for more than 15 seconds or he WILL combust (haha get it? combust? sex joke?). Logan isn't appalled by the Deadpool character, he just doesn't expect it to be so different from how Wade truly behaves, away from prying eyes. Admittedly, the two have only gotten as comfortable with each other after almost a year of living with each other. Logan has opened up more to the merc as well, something about Wade's similar garbage fire of a life and immortality making the wolverine loosen up around him.

In private, Wade is still as chatty, but he definitely tones down on the innuendos and false confidence. Instead, the merc rants about his day, their (no matter how much Logan denies) dog, and this cool new show that you should totally watch, peanut. But still, VERY rarely does Wade talk about more personal things or shows emotions other than neutral and happy.

That is why, one night while the two watch the tv after a long mission, it immediately catches Logan's attention when Wade starts sniffling. At first, the Logan thinks its the tv program but nope, just some random commercial (unless Wade is particularly moved by drain cleaner?). The sniffling and Wade's erratic breathing becomes louder, causing Logan to nudge the merc with his foot.

"What's wrong with you?" Logan frowns, kicking Wade again when he doesn't reply.

"Wow you," Wade gasps, sucking in a lungful of air, "really sound like my dickhead father right now" the merc says in between gasps, trying for casual but falling flat by a couple miles (or kilometers, i never understood why we didn't change the saying to the more commonly used measurement but oh well the author is getting sidetracked).

The merc is on the edge of-- oh never mind now he's fully hyperventilating, Logan thinks with panic. The wolverine was never said to be emotionally capable, dammit, he should've actually paid attention to what his mandated therapist said to him about all this mental stuff.

"Uh bub, d'you need a paper bag or somethin-" Logan manages to get out, moving towards the side of the couch Wade was on, hands reaching out hesitantly. Wade shakes his head furiously in lieu of an answer, opting to cover his mouth and nose with his hands in an attempt to slow his breathing.

"I'm afraid," GASP "any touching right now" GASP "is off limits but" GASP "if you want to get" GASP "handsy later I won't" GASP "complain" Wade manages to stutter out. "Talk me through" GASP "it, big boy?"

Logan is suddenly thankful for all those mental health "briefings" that were mandatory for the x-men in his universe. He turns off the tv and kneels in front of Wade.

"Hey Wade, look at me, focus on my voice." Wade flicks his eyes over to look at Logan, so hopefully he's listening? "Do you need to move to somewhere quieter, the bedroom?" Logan gently asks, to which he receives a frantic nod.

"Ok, I'm not gonna touch you, but I need you to walk with me," Logan states as he slowly stands alongside Wade, making sure the latter doesn't trip.

The pair cross the room into the bedroom, Logan leaving the door open slightly in case Wade started to feel claustrophobic. Thankfully, the walk and change of location seemed to help Wade, as he was hyperventilating slightly less.

"Would Mary Puppins help? You want me to bring her over, bub?"

Wade nods again, settling into the covers.

"Sure, will be back with you quickly, just need to leave for a second."

Logan swiftly but gently retrieves Mary Puppins who senses Wade's distress (like the good dog she is) and proceeds to drench the merc's hand in saliva as her unique form of a comforting gesture.

"Need anything else?" Logan asks while sitting on the floor beside Wade, keeping an eye on his breathing but not close enough to be potentially uncomfortable for the merc.

Wade shakes his head, already looking much better than 2 minutes ago with the distraction of an ugly-cute dog. The two stay like that, Wade's breathing eventually evening out.

"Thanks," the merc croaks out, exhaustion evident in his voice. "I bet you want an explanation for that huh? Sorry for springing all of Wade's Problems ™️ on you all the sudden but hey new record of 11 months and 3 days before fucking over our relationship huh-" Wade knows he's rambling, but can't seem to stop until he's interrupted by Logan.

"Wade. You don't gotta explain anything to me right now, I get it." Logan reassures, and Wade supposes out of anyone on this earth Logan would be the most understanding of his situation.

“Just sleep, y’sound tired. I’ll be here when you wake up” Logan grunted, moving to pull the covers over Wade, hesitating slightly as he realizes the sheer domesticity of it all. Wade doesn’t seem to mind, accepting the tucking in (Logan is decidedly Not Thinking About it like that) and mumbling a quick thank you as he dozes off, Mary curled up against him.

Wade wakes up, disoriented as usual in the morning and pads over to the pullout that Logan has converted back into a couch and is reading on.

“Coffee’s in the pot” Logan says, in lieu of greeting, looking up from his book.

“Uh about last night- wow I’m really making it sound like we banged or something— NOT that I’m opposed to that you know but-“ Wade rambles, clearly nervous as he stands in front of Logan, who looks unfair levels of attractive in reading glasses (it’s the daddy issues, Wade thinks to himself).

“Bub I’m telling you it’s fine, you don’t own me an explanation or anything, I get it” Logan interrupts.

“Yeah I mean I want to tell you though. Just about yesterday. To explain” Wade replies while fiddling with his shirt collar and averting his gaze. God he wishes he had his mask on for this.

“It’s really stupid actually, it’s just the uh. The intrusive thoughts” Wade trails of starting to mumble. Logan doesn’t respond, waiting for the merc to continue.

“It’s just- it’s just the mission yesterday got me thinking about uh, touchy subjects. I didn’t mean to but I- it got me spiraling real bad huh? Guess I can’t even handle a mention of some things and I overreacted. It’s stupid and I’m already regretting this conversation ok gonna go shoot myself now bye!” Wade is in the middle of enacting dramatic escape route B when Logan interjects.

“Wade. Get back here and sit your ass down.” Wade guiltily backtracks and sits beside Logan, avoiding his gaze.

“Look, I’ve been through a lot. I get it if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but don’t say shit like that. That your triggers don’t matter or some bullshit. You’re the one always preaching to me about acceptance, hypocrite.” Logan reprimands, sighing as Wade shrinks into himself.

“Y’know I get nightmares too Wade, it’s normal to be touchy around certain subjects. I just want you to stop putting yourself down about this.” Wow is this Logan being emotionally intelligent for once? It must be really bad if the Wolverine has to call you out on it, Wade thinks.

“Ugh using my own words against me, curse you, past me!” Wade shakes his fist in the air. “And is that you getting mushy on me? Aw Wolvie I always knew you liked me!”

“Shut up, bub.” Logan shakes his head while smiling a little. “I’m being serious about this.”

Wade dramatically pretends to faint, “Oh my feelings! But if a hot dilf like you is saying that maybe I should listen” he adds, turning slightly to meet Logan’s eyes. The next part the Marc says with great difficulty.

“I’m not the best person, my moral compass is crushed by a 16 wheeler broken at best, and I look like a pug’s face wrinkles got STIs.” Logan tries to interrupt, but Wade shushes him. “My turn to speak. Yeah I’m fucked up but I guess we’re both dysfunctional in our own ways. I’m not fully ready to talk about everything that the universe decided would be funny to inflict on this poor bastard, but if I get out of line with my self deprecation at least you can put me back in line no?”

Wade continues, “Y’know I thought I was going to be alone. Just a sad, pathetic pile of cancer after all my friends leave me. I still believe that a little, but it’s not so bad now, with your immortality and 200 years old stuff and all.”

“Basically point is, I’m not getting over myself soon, but we could towards it together? God that sounded so cheesy, why would you write me like that author?” The merc laments.

Logan doesn’t quite understand what that last comment is about but nods to the former part, “‘S far as I’m concerned, you’re stuck with me for a while, bud” Logan smirks.

“And you’re saying that like it’s a bad thing? Ugh I would never grow tired of seeing those abs” Wade quipped back. “But yeah, thanks peanut. For being there and stuff.”

And while neither Wade nor Logan will truly escape their past or change their insecurities anytime soon, they have a long future ahead of them to figure it out. Together.

( I don’t know what possessed me, I do the know how to write conclusions and is it a coincidence I somehow projected masking and panic attacks onto Wade? Idk but if you made it to the end congrats! )

[prinz-myshkin]

Hello! I love your art! I am starting to get back into art after many years, and wanted to animate it. What app do you use to animate things? Do you have any recommendations how to get started? Thank you!

Hey thanks so much! I use a program called Krita, it's free, it's great, it's got the basics of frame animation which is all I really care about. I guess my best advice is that whenever you start an animation project you might benefit from starting simple and adding complexity later. Animation gets frustrating fast whenever something is off and it gets tricky to fix or "get right" when it's in the context of all the frames surrounding it. In my fish loops I started with drawing a ball that stretched and flattened as it moved around and then went over it and added eyes, fins etc. to fit the movement. I think I would have gotten frustrated if I started with a whole complex shape and wouldn't have known where to go next. It's a muscle though and gets easier as you do it.

Pretty much everyone getting into animation I think finds this ancient series of chronophotographs by Eadweard Muybridge showing a horse in motion

It's great and a cool bit of photography history, and I made an exercise of it to try and copy it when I wanted to get into animation. I felt it helped me make sense of what is important in making an image move in a fluid way. It's a fun and not too daunting task, you might want to try it yourself.

Tilting at windmills

Also, if you just animate the bottom half of the horse you won't have to do as much work, so you should do that

As for the program itself, you can make layers static or add keyframes to them to make stuff happen, click window > animation to change the screen to access that part. Make a drawing, hit next frame and turn on onionskin so you can see where you were the frame before

The krita forums are also really helpful if anything technical goes wrong

Hope this helps! And also wasn't too much or too little information :)