#i wanna learn how to make iron on patches of my art

[roseband]

my embroidery machine got to my mom's place i'm sooooo excited

but i'm dumb bcuz i didn't realize how expensive digitizing software was lol so i need to see if i can use an older version of the brother ones

but i'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[pestopascal]

While I will absolutely agree that CB2077 isn’t the ONLY game doing all this bullshit, or that other AAA studios don’t deserve the flack CDPR is getting, I have to say that this is absolutely the perfect storm and I think people are FINALLY seeing the problems in modern AAA gaming. CB2077 might be fun to play, may have a good story, but it’s almost impossible to see because of the glaring issues. Which, honestly, is a good thing. I hope games change after this.

under here

AAA studios have been like this and this sort of release has been completely normalised on all accounts by both the businesses themselves and fans because of the inherent reliance on modders (bethesda at the forefront of this), as well as the pushback every time companies actually go ‘uh we need a lil more time’ (although... they just shouldnt announce potential release dates, im even of the camp they shouldnt even start releasing the game until like 6 months out from their official date because they fuck it up every time. borderlands 3 being the only game i know of being in “secret” development and then announcing itself in march for a september release. game itself aside, thats how companies should do it). easily i can remember a lot of 2011 release games which have had the exact same issues as cp77′s release, and then every other game in between since. very rarely do you actually have a game that isn’t a fucked up mess of a pile of pixels. and it is always the customisable character ones that are honestly, genuinely, ugly looking at release. but you can definitely say its been happening looooooong before 2011, with unrealistic expectations, word limits, 11 month time frames, offloading sequels to smaller companies so they can suffer if it fails, etc etc. the entire system has been like this for so long... they dont know any real different nowadays.

i mean look. tlou2 released under crunch conditions this year, and was rewarded. it was ALL over the social media feeds, it was quite the controversy because, surprise surprise, the company promised they wouldnt do it uwu and then. bam ! crunch conditions. literally around that time too, bioware employees came out with a statement saying ‘man we wish dai FAILED so that back in 2014 we couldve proven crunch was a wrong practice’. they say this as well after having to produce da2 in 14 months, which just suffered from fans and journalism for reusing environments, because it was produced in 14 months, and honestly? no one pointed that out back then, bioware themselves pointed it out again this year, 6 years after release, that that game was produced in 14 months. rdr2′s release was hounded by stories of crunch, and they all disappeared into the night because... it was heralded as the best game of all time. that was 2018, 2 years ago.

i think too is that some people get kind of ... morally and ethically concerned. which is understandable. can you consume something when you know it was made under conditions like crunch? and i think one of the most confronting things about it is that 9/10, not only has your favourite company engaged in crunch conditions, they almost actively choose to continue with them. and then that’s a whole other bag of issues blown up over there when it comes to what is able to be consumed what isn’t etc etc

i think also like a mix of marketing, promises and then the expectations of what the game will be like have really had cdpr earn the ire of fans which is just like... you don’t believe what these companies are saying. you never should, esp when it’s their ceo’s saying it who don’t work on the actual floor. bioware itself is the main culprit of doing this to the point they finally came around with all the da4 concept art and teasing to be like ‘ummm but actually dont get invested?’. remember all that qunari lady fanart that bioware management was like ... please dont get attached? yeah. yeah. like at what point as well is there going to be heavy level of apprehension to approach this? and i can’t really talk either, i cracked open the door for mass effect again. i know exactly what kind of shit bioware will pull, i know they are teasing it already on social media, but mass effect is my ride or die series. that’s why people keep opening the door on letting these companies get away with it. and you can’t fault fans entirely either because this is down to a science of how to get money. i mean, fuck, mass effect andromeda’s entire advertising campaign HINGED on the n7 logo. for the nostalgia value. and i see text posts in the same vein of both ‘guys, disney isnt gonna fuck you if you consume every remake for nostalgia value’ and ‘its understandable why people do it’.

so then you have to go ‘well are fans as just to blame’ and then that’s a whole other argument.

i think also like. i personally havent run into aaaannnyyyyyyy of the issues that you see posted online. which is ironic bc 1) i play on ps4 and 2) its an old dusty ps4. in fact a lot of ppl i have spoken to who have had issues have played on pc. does this mean the glitches dont exist? ofc not, the vids and screenshots are right there. but like... ive had a basically unhindered experience so far, and i get where ppl are coming from (i do, i promise) where theyve basically found the game unplayable. is there also a standard of what ppl consider unplayable because ive played most AAA games at launch when they basically rushed to slap the box label on the game and called it a day until they work on patches. when ppl consider unplayable is also just... different per person. some people have a slight blur on the screen when turning too fast even in an MMO and decide the game is horrible and unplayable. some people can have broken quests and npcs not loading and falling through maps and still be fine. there’s no agreed statement of what makes a game unplayable either, which is why you read threads on twitter and someone goes ‘yeah this npc t-posed so i quit in the first hour’ with a dozen replies. everyone has different levels of it.

it’s a mixed bag of issues. im not excusing cdpr, but the ppl who worked on the game are honestly likely not the ones who pushed for a release. you’ve gotta look at sony and microsoft and ceo’s with bonuses coming up and the investors and shareholders and people who sit behind computers and read numbers detailing interest and demand and supply and how every single time they had to delay this game, the loudest (but smallest) bunch of assholes on like reddit and in the twitter threads complained that it was delayed AGAIN even though back in what 2015? they said it’ll come out when it’s ready. and yeah there are times when game delays result in a mismatched half assed sort of story (kh3... p5... ffxv... dai...) and then there are times when, if they need to delay the game... they probably need to delay the game. sometimes delays are bad sometimes theyre good sometimes you are sitting there like whew if you only didn’t try to be like THIS TIME this is the release date.

the ONLY WAY this will stop happening is, quite frankly, unionising. and everyone is allergic to that whole concept so like... this is “the perfect storm” as you put it. but it’s also not. people have been so disappointed over the last 2 years alone for gaming companies, the final product, the attitudes from higher ups, that i think cdpr is receiving a good few years worth of anger. i think theyre also on the receiving end of misdirection from american fans who still don’t fucking get the company isn’t american, because that’s another bag of issues as well. like we’re holding at least 8 bags of groceries out of the back of the car now, and we don’t want to take another trip, because there are so many little bits of this entire situation to look at. there’s so much back and forth.

i think the worst, but most realistic thing is: games won’t change. how they will social media wise will. maybe. assuming bioware gets their heads out their asses but... they’re going to be a lot more careful. i mean, hell, sony offered refunds. that was just a publicity stint. they dont give a fuck if the game was bad. as i said before, if they did, they would make all companies fix trophy problems, starting from like 2010 or whenever the trophy system first came out. they just don’t wanna fall in alongside cdpr being thrown on its sword. but the companies are gonna learn from this, get smarter, still do the same shit to their employees, still pay off journalists, still do media blackouts, etc etc. and we’re gonna be here in another year’s time, with another game, having these same roundabout arguments, and cp77′s issues are gonna fade into just a wikipedia article.

[buckleyirondad]

i. shaky hands.

Peter didn’t stop talking from the moment he stepped foot inside the lab, Tony’s only wish was that he had the strength to listen. It wasn’t Peter’s fault, the kid loved to natter, and Tony had done nothing in an attempt to stop him. After five years without him, he would willingly listen to Peter ramble on for hours on end, and he would treasure every second in a way that he never had before.

Tony couldn’t pay attention because he was distracted by his hands. He was attempting to repair a tear in Peter’s suit, but his Alcoholic Neuropathy decided to flare up, making it impossible to stop his hands from shaking, even his state of the art prosthetic arm suffered the same misfortune. He’d been diagnosed with nerve damage shortly after Morgan’s second birthday, it wasn’t a shock considering that his twenties and thirties were an intangible blur that could only be deciphered by Rhodey’s version of events, pictures, and the occasional Youtube video. It hurt, that he had been able to turn his life around, but was constantly haunted by the man he once was. “Mr. Stark, are you listening?” Tony flinched at the sudden question, “Yes, kid.” He tried to sound nonchalant and hoped that Peter would go back to his usual chatter. Peter knew of Tony’s struggles with nerve damage and the aftermath of the snap, for the latter, he’d been there at every step of the recovery process, apart from the days May and Pepper forced him to go to school. In Tony’s eyes, it didn’t matter that Peter knew, he didn’t want his kid to worry about him, that wasn’t his job. Tony lost hold on the needle and it dropped onto the desk, “Shit.” “Mr. Stark?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?!” Fuck it, he didn't want to shout at Peter because he wasn't angry at the kid. Peter couldn’t help the fact that he had programmed himself to call Tony that. In all honesty, Peter had achieved the impossible by making the formality in the name fade away, and over time, it had become oddly enduring.

Tony hated having to tear the phrase from Peter’s repertoire but every time he heard him say it, he was transported back to Titan.

I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark, please. Or the day, he almost died, and one it was one of the last things he heard before blacking out... Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark. Tony wished that Peter could say it without either of them having to fear the repercussions. “Shit…” Tony tangled his fingers in his hair, and dipped his chin to his chest, too ashamed to look Peter in the eye, “I’m sorry, Pete, I didn’t say--I didn’t mean to shout at you…” Tony didn’t look up, but he could hear Peter taking small cautious steps towards him, “Hey...” He spoke softly, Tony had heard him use this tone recently, with Morgan, after she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. Peter balled his hands around his suit, “I can do that.” Tony pulled back, he didn’t care that Peter had super strength and potentially they could be there for hours. He leaned back in his chair to look up at him, “No.” “Let go, Tony...” Peter’s mouth twitched into a mischievous smirk, “Or I’ll replace all your coffee with decaf.” “Was that a threat?” “Obviously...” Peter tried to pry the suit away from Tony’s weak grasp. “I can do it,” Tony said assertively, although the slight quiver in voice tore down his crumbling façade. “It’s my suit, Tony.” Peter leaned forward, gently prying Tony’s fingers away from the material, almost like an adult would, when a child refuses to let go of something they shouldn’t be holding. Tony wasn’t trying to act like a baby, he was just desperate to help his kids. When Peter managed to pull the suit away from his grasp, he felt as if he had been rendered useless, “I can do it.” Peter pulled up a chair around, and sat beside him; Tony watched as Peter studied the small tear in his suit, “You can’t sew to save your life, bud.” He held out his hand, hoping Peter would give it back. “I can learn.” Peter buried his hand into his pocket and took out his phone. “Pigs will fly, Pete, pigs will fly.” Tony joked as he quietly shuffled over, in an attempt to grab the suit while Peter was distracted. Peter flung it over his shoulder, without even looking away from his phone; that was cheating because Peter had the unfair advantage of his sixth sense. “Look, let me do it.” Tony pleaded, “It’s an easy fix.” “Tony, it’s okay.” “It’s not okay, Pete!” Tony screamed, throwing his hands back, as he fought against his tears that were threatening to fall, “I should be able to fix my own kid’s suit whenever it’s torn. because you’re the one who goes out there, risking your life every single day! And I can’t even--” “Okay....” Peter cut in, “I understand.” Tony bit down on his lip, “You…” He sucked in a sharp uneven breath, “You deserve better…And so does your sister.” Peter shook his head as he blurted out a couple of nonsensical words, his face flushed red as he tried to anchor himself, “No.” Tony gestured to the suit hanging over Peter’s shoulder, “I can’t even…” Peter knocked it onto the floor, out of view, “Forget the suit!” “It’s not that easy, kid.” Peter’s throat cracked, “You know my episodes? With the whole...uh…” “Sensory overload.” “Yeah.” Peter nodded, “...That.” Peter’s episodes were unbearable to witness, but unfortunately, they came hand-in-hand with his powers. It was a period, where Tony’s world stood still. Even his blackout protocol wasn’t one hundred percent effective, Peter would still suffer tremendously, and he’d spent a fair share of his time sobbing his heart out. All they could ever do was be there and reassure him that it would all be okay, in the end, but it never got any easier. “I can’t control that…” Peter stuttered, “It just happens. It sucks ‘cause I can’t focus. You and May make me wait like two days before I go on patrol again. You know? It makes me feel like...shit ‘cause people get hurt when I should be out there helping them.” “That’s not your fault though, kid.” Tony reassured him, “You can’t control that.” Peter bounced his eyebrows up, “I know.” The reality dawned on Tony slower than it should have, “Oh.” “Yeah.” “I see what you did there.” “I don’t want you to feel like that.” Peter leaned in, and playfully nudged Tony’s shoulder,  “You’re...awesome.” 

Tony snorted as he tapped Peter’s arm, “You're pretty awesome too.” Peter jumped out of his chair and retrieved his suit of the floor, “And hey, I've asked MJ if she can patch this up.” He picked up his backpack, and shoved it inside, “She can draw and sow with her eyes shut.” “Okay.” Peter smiled as he turned back, “You know, we all have our good days and bad days.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he spun around in his chair, “When did you get so... philosophical?” “Something to do with being dead for five years.” He shrugged, “...I think.” “What did we say about joking about that?” “To explicitly do it whenever I can.” Peter recited, Tony glared at him, “No?”

If you enjoyed that,  you can follow this month of scheduled Iron Dad Angst on AO3

Tag List: @anywaythewindblows19 @classycap7ain @nataliesadflower

[jessicasland]

The One That Fits Right In Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Rocky Beginnings Reagan stared at the large white school building in front of her. It was her first day at the public high school and since she moved with her family, she already felt nervous. Reagan’s face went pale, she felt like she was going to be sick, there were butterflies in her stomach. It was big, bigger than the palace she used to live in back in Southern France. Was she really going to go in there? Well, she had no other choice. She took a big deep breath and walked up the stairs to the main hall. Reagan look at all the students bustling, talking, and laughing in the hallways. It was completely crowded! She couldn’t even walk without being squished in between one or two of the students. She checked her schedule. The first thing she needed to do was find her locker. It was locker 239. Reagan adjusted her glasses once she managed to get out of the tsunami of students to find her locker. There were endless rows of tall dark green lockers. But which one was her’s? As she passed by the students, she always remembered to say her “excuse me’s” or “pardon me’s” when she was trying to get through, and remembered to say her “sorry’s” when she accidentally bumped into people. Reagan was about to check the next row of lockers to find hers until- BUMP! The next thing Reagan knew, she was on the ground. Her backpack, books, and lunchbox were scattered on the ground. In front of her was another girl. She had short brown hair and sap colored eyes. Her skin was the color of a what someone would look like if they had gotten a sun tan. She also wore very expensive clothing, tall high heal like boots, and had layers and layers of foundation and make up on her face. Reagan gasped and said, “Oh geez. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She pulled the other girl into her feet and picked up all her books and makeup. “Here. These belong to you don’t they?” “Don’t you dare touch those!” said the girl, snatching the belongings out of Reagan’s hands. “Don’t you know how much money all this makeup costs?!” “...No.” Regan replied. “I-I don’t think we’ve officially met before during the orientation. I’m Reagan!” Reagan smiled and held out her hand for the other girl to shake. The girl looked at Reagan and looked at her hand and sneered in disgust. Using a pencil, the girl moved Reagan’s hand away, “Oh yes. The new girl from, what was i? Larodon? Southern France?” “That’s right! Future Heir to the throne to!” replied Reagan. “So, what’s your name?” The girl scoffed and replied, “You don’t know who I am?” Reagan said, “No not really. That’s what I was trying to ask you.” “My name is Harper. Harper Jane Cadigan Scott.” said the girl. “And these four girls make up my group. The one with the black hair is Marissa, the one with the gross looking flying pig thing on her shirt is Elle, the one who’s the brace face is Lorraine,” Reagan mouthed to Lorraine, “You’re braces look nice.” and Loraine mouthed back “Thanks.” Harper continued, “and the one in the yellow which is a really disgusting color BTW, is known as Krystal.” Reagan stared at them before saying, “Nice to meet ya.” “So, now that you know this little group here, get outta my way.” said Harper, turning up her nose. “What are you even doing anyway?” “Oh, um. I’m looking for my locker.” said Reagan, showing Harper her schedule. “It’s locker 239.” “What?! You can’t have that locker!” said Harper. “Why not? The school staff gave it to me so that means it’s mine for this year.” said Reagan. “But that’s my locker!” said Harper. “Everyone knows that locker 239 is the biggest locker in the school! Well, everyone except you Four Eyes.” “I know. That’s why they gave it to me.” said Reagan. Harper growled and was ready to strangle Reagan but Marissa stopped her and said, “Harper. We gotta go. Besides, I heard Kaiden was in our economics class.” Harper gasped in delight, “Why didn’t you say so?! Let’s go!” The other girls followed Harper down the hall, except for Loraine, who stayed behind to help Reagan find her locker and just like Harper had said, locker 239 was the biggest locker in the entire school. Reagan waisted no time to get started organizing her brand new locker. “Shame.” Reagan said to herself. “This locker looks so dull. It would be nice to spice it up a bit.” Then, Reagan had a wonderful, spectacular idea! Tomorrow before school started, she would bring in the beautiful acrylic paints that she had gotten for her birthday back in the summer and paint her locker till her her hearts desire. Reagan checked her schedule as she finished placing the new lock on the front. Reagan’s Schedule - A Day: Mon, Wed, Fri 1st Period-Art 3rd Period-US History 5th Period-Biology 7th Period-Office Aid B Day: Tues, Thurs 2nd Period-Spanish 1 4th Period-Culinary Arts 6th Period-English 2 8th Period-Algebra 2 Lunch: First Lunch Reagan was happy when she saw her first class. Art was one of her favorite things to do! She would spend hours a day just drawing and doodling in her sketchbook. It even helped her when she was stressed or upset. So this class would really help improve her art a bit more, especially when it came to drawing hands. History. Oh brother. History was super long and super boring and History wasn’t one of her strengths. Biology. Mmm, not so bad. But then Reagan remembered she didn’t really like it as much when she was homeschooled because she never got to do any labs at all. Office Aid? What was that? Spanish. Perfect! She more or less knew some words in Spanish thanks to homeschool. And one of her aunts spoke Spanish to so this would help expand her vocabulary. Culinary Arts? Wow! She loved to help the family’s personal chef in the kitchen back home and bake things on her own from time to time to! She could learn to cook and expand from making a simple PB and J sandwich. English. Interesting. Would she be learning the language English? Algebra. It was neither her weakness or her strength. But she was well advanced in math seeing how good at it she was. Reagan checked the time on her watch. 7:55AM “Uh oh.” thought Reagan, “I should already be at art class!” She didn’t wanna miss her first real class. She stuffed her schedule in her pocket, picked up her art supplies and sketchbook, and dashed down the hall to the art room. The minute Reagan stepped foot into the room, she was already greeted with large tables, pictures and paintings from years past, easels, light tables, tables with five chairs for five students to sit at, and a closet filled with tons of art supplies. But the professor was missing. Where was she...or he? Reagan dropped her things at the nearest table and walked around the room while the students chatted amongst themselves. She looked around the large room but then stopped at the closet. She saw a short figure who looked shorter than her, fumbling about where the paints were. Reagan asked in a shy tone, “U-Uh. E-Excuse me? I-I don’t mean to be a bother b-but uh. Where did the professor run off to?” The women bumped her head before turning to Reagan. She looked and dressed like a gypsy women. Beads and all. Reagan’s eyes widened as she saw her. The women hopped down from the ladder and walked up to Reagan. “You’re lookin’ right at her.” she replied. She had a thick Russian accent. “Oh. It’s uh, nice to meet you.” said Reagan. “I-I’m-“ “New student. I know.” she replied. “Davay! Davay! out out out!” She pushed Reagan out of the closet and said, “Take your seat. I don’t have all day.” Reagan said nothing and took her seat. This art professor seemed pretty rude. The women clapped her hands to get the students attention. “Dobroye UUUUtro class.” said the lady, holding the U. “Dobroye Utro Ms. Preobrazhensky.” said the rest of the class. “Welcome welcome! I would love to welcome you all to my Art class.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky. “Now, vhile I take the roll. I would like you to complete your first sketchbook assignment. Vou must draw your name and draw all de things you kiddies like. Uh, for instance uh de Fortnite game or de annoying song vith the colorful sharks or vhat ever you kiddies like now a-days. Da! Begin.” Regan opened her big, black sketchbook and got to work. She wrote her name in big bubbly letters and colored it red. Then she got to work on surrounding her name with many things she liked like. Her drawing consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a lamb, a paint pallet with a paintbrush, a drawing of Iron Man, the symbol for Taurus, a stack of comic books, a steam engine train, Patch from 101 Dalmatians, and some puzzle pieces representing the fact that she has Autism. She didn’t notice that any time passed by until Ms. Preobrazhensky shouted, “Gold Girl!” Reagan jumped in her seat in surprise. Most kids snickered at her. “Come on, let me see your vork.” she barked. Reagan showed Ms. Preobrazhensky her sketchbook. Ms. Preobrazhensky stared at it for a while before she took it to her desk. Reagan sat in her seat for the longest time while the gypsy looking art teacher was staring at her sketchbook. She felt nervous and started twirling a loose strand of her hair (which she often does when she’s nervous). “REAGAN!” Ms. Preobrazhensky screeched. Regan’s eyes widened as the teacher called her. She stood up and walked to the desk. “Niet! Niet! In my office.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky, pointing a long bony finger to a small office. Reagan gulped and stepped into her office. Was she going to get in trouble on her very first day? Ms. Preobrazhensky closed the door and started.....hugging Reagan. Reagan was confused. “Vou brilliant child! Look at this!” said Ms. Preobrazhensky, showing her the assignment. “I had no idea you’s could draw so well! How long have you’s been drawing?” “..Since I was 3.” said Reagan, still twirling her hair. “I’ve never seen dis type of talent in my class before.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky. “My dear! There is not much I can teach you! You have very good talent!” “Really?” asked Reagan excitedly. “...but I wish I could draw hands better. My hands look like potatoes.” “Tell you what.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky. “How about I gives you some pointers on how to draw hands. During the lunch break. You’s can have your lunch here and then we can start.” “You mean it?” asked Reagan with a gleam in her eyes. “Of course of course!” said Ms. Preobrazhensky. “After all, talent like this does not show up everyday. Although. I am curious about de puzzle pieces you drew here. Wvat do they mean?” Reagan fumbled with her words. If she told the teacher, let alone the whole school that she had Aspergers, she’d be the laughing stock of the entire 10th grade! “U-Uh....I-I love to do puzzles.” Reagan lied. “Ahh.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky, “interesting hobby for a girl your age.” “Uh yep.” said Reagan with a nervous laugh. Ms. Preobrazhensky handed back her sketchbook. “So, I wvill see you during lunch on Wednesday?” asked Ms. Preobrazhensky. “Sure!” said Reagan, “Thank you. Thank you Ms. Preoba...uh, can I call you Ms. P?” “Of course you may.” said Ms. Preobrazhensky. “Cool. Thank you Ms. P!” said Reagan as she walked back to her seat. She sighed with relief. .... The rest of the morning went by in a blur and before Reagan knew it, it was lunchtime. She took her orange metal lunchbox and headed for the cafeteria. Reagan walked slowly as she tried to find a seat but most of the students already called dibs on each table. Then, Reagan saw Harper and her group of friends (minus Loraine) sitting at half-empty table eating and gossiping. “Harper!” said Reagan. “Harper! It’s Reagan from this morning!” Harper stopped her, “Hold it Four Eyes!” Reagan stopped dead in her tracks. “This table is for popular girls only.” said Harper. “Yeah, we don’t take in newbies!” added Marissa. “B-But I don’t have anywhere else to sit.” said Reagan. “Tough!” said Krystal. “Let me show you where the newbies sit.” said Harper. She lead Reagan to the garbage cans in the corner of the cafeteria. “B-But that’s the garbage can.” Reagan said. “Exactly. That’s where all the newbies go. Because every single newbie that comes to this school is nothing but a lowlife piece of trash!” explained Harper. “Ask the freshmen! Trust me, this seating arrangement is WAY up you’re alley.” With that, Harper walked away, leaving Reagan alone. Well, Reagan had no other choice. She sat on the floor and ate her lunch. It was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some apple slices, a little white milk carton, some celery sticks, and a chocolate chip cookie. Loraine noticed that Reagan was sitting on the floor by herself. “You got sent to the trash to?” she asked. “Yep.” said Reagan, not paying attention. “I know how that feels.” Loraine replied. “I got sent here to. But you wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t sit with you.” Loraine sat next to Reagan. “S-So. You’re Reagan?” asked Loraine. “Uh-huh.” Reagan replied. “And you’re........Marissa?” “Close. It’s Loraine.” said Loraine. “Ohhh! Brace Face!” said Reagan. Loraine stared at her and started to eat her food. Reagan realized that she wasn’t supposed to say that. “Oh geez. U-Uh, Loraine I didn’t mean to uh-“ “No, it’s Ok. I get that a lot. Even Harper calls me Brace Face.” said Loraine reassuring her. “Then, if Harpers your friend, why does she cal you brace face?” asked Reagan. Loraine looked at Harper and then back at Reagan. “Harper’s cool and all but she’s...she’s a real jerk sometimes.” replied Loraine, “and besides, she’s never complimented on my braces before. I just got them a week ago and they hurt like crazy.” “Oh, here.” said Reagan handing her an Advil cup. “Take an Advil pill, it will help with the pain.” Loraine took a tablet and swallowed it with some milk to wash it down before handing back the Advil cup back to Reagan. “Thank you.” said Loraine. “Hey, since we’re here, wanna tell secrets? If that’s what you royalty folks like doing.” “Sure!” said Reagan. “Uh, you go first.” “OK.” said Loraine. She whispered, “I have had this weird habit of biting my nails. I still have it and nobody else knows this.” “M-My turn.” said Reagan. “The thing is that I...I............IhaveAspergersSyndrome.” “What?” asked Loraine, “You we’re speaking to fast Reagan.” “Sorry.” she replied, “I…I have Asperger’s Syndrome…its a case of mild Autism. I’ve had it since I was two and it-it effects me socially and mentally. I have some weird obsessions. I still watch Blues Clues for pete’s sake and-“ “Reagan.” said Loraine, “I’ve heard enough. But why don’t you wanna tell anyone this information?” “I-I don’t wanna tell anyone because I-I didn’t wanna get bullied again.” said Reagan. Loraine held out her pinky and said, “I won’t tell a soul that you have Autism. It’s a promise. A pinky promise.” Reagan looked at her pinky and joined hers in with Loraine’s. “Thank you.” said Reagan as she hugged Loraine. Loraine was shocked but hugged her back.

[jasenet]

200527 | #lota-julian-bedrom

( image cover. ) — location: seraph house.

CH: arms full of clothes and a bag filled with colorful patches ranging from rainbows to flowers and hearts, multi-colored lightning patches he thought were especially cool, he leans himself against the wall just beside julian's door. with a soft grunt, he tries to balance everything enough to free his hand just enough to open it. with a victorious 'oh yeah' he stops the door from closing with his foot, hand having already returned to keep a sweater from falling free. nudging the door wide enough to slip in, he calls out with a smile, "sorry for coming in unannounced but i really wanted to show you all of this! there's a cute balloon animal patch in here and i wanted you to see it!" dumping the clothes onto julian's bed, he lets out a big breath, wiping his brow as if it'd been strenuous work to bring it all over. "i think they're iron-on... but you know how to sew too, right? i hope you're better than i am... ah wait i got ahead of myself. someone gave me all these patches and i thought you'd like them too. if you don't have any clothes you wanna put them on, you can take one of mine!"

JN: Keeping with his regular work and routine, there was rarely much to do in the afternoon. Every day, he would come and go in relative silence. It was a perk of living on the same floor as the medical room. He was not two minutes away from anyone’s medical emergency, to which he could only be grateful for. However, even with the spare time, the bedroom looked minimally lived-in. Various strange sketches and concept art were taped haphazardly on one wall, while the open window took the one beside it. The window naturally let in the afternoon sun, and it was the sole source of light throughout the room. As for the ceiling, it remained blank. He didn’t know whether it’d be appropriate, but he wished to paint a mural. 

 Just as he tossed himself onto the bed, an arm over his eyes and legs below the knee over the edge, the scent of perhaps the sweetest wolf he’d ever encountered was drawing stronger by the second. Julian sat up and took a gander over his bedroom for any anomalies. The unnecessary concern distracted from Chase's entrance, and his blue eyes shone curiously onto the colorful items as they got closer. The lota wasn’t sure how to tell the omega how much of an ametuer he was with sewing. Such tasks were for the kappas, as he was introduced, and he simply accepted that it wasn’t for him to learn. “I’ll give it a try.”

Perhaps it was obsessive how he quickly latched onto anything colored yellow and orange. Plucking out a few different flower patches, he assumed they required more intricate sewing. He then pulled out a brightly-colored sweater to inspect, and it was not dissimilar to his own choice of wardrobe. “I didn’t realize our styles matched so well.” The image of his closet, as it was the last time he’d seen it, appeared in his memory plain as day. There were certainly some that could use a bit of customization. However, he could argue that all of them were eligible. “My closet is free reign to you, too.” Julian offered Chase a small smile. “Where do we start?”

CH: though the words aren't brimming with confidence as he hoped, the truth is, he thinks julian has steadier hands, more meticulous of a work ethic. when it comes to detail and perfection, chase mostly does so for his singing. even that, in the end, is typically wrought over more so by emotion than technique and professionalism. however praised he might be when he used to perform, he knows he was lacking, still is now that his most consistent performance is in the showers these days or under his breath as he helps out with errands. "i've been wondering that! sometimes i look at your clothes when i see you and think i have something similar or i want something like that too! it suits you. i like seeing you in bright colors! it makes it easier to smile when i see you. i already do but everything is so colorful!" beaming at the offer, he closes the distance between them, an arm hugging julian's waist before he lets go, going through the patches himself and holding up the balloon animal patch he spoke off, holding it up to julian's chest. "do you think we'll go back to the boardwalk or to a festival or something? i want a real balloon animal too. i think this would look good on a yellow shirt or sweater. what do you want to put the flower patches on? it is getting warmer these days..." 

JN: “You’re so colorful,” he blurted with nothing but a toothy grin on his face. “Inside and outside.” Although he was stunned by the hug, he reached up a moment later to hug back. — Looking down at the patch Chase held against him, he placed a heart patch beside it for review. “I think all I have are sweaters,” he replied sheepishly. He took another look at Chase’s clothes and realized that that was the difference. “And long sleeves.” It took a moment for him to process what ‘boardwalk’ meant, but nothing came up for it. He was too embarrassed to ask. However, he understood ‘festival’, so he could at least respond to that. “A friend of mine said there’s a lotus garden festival soon.” Nam Hae somehow always knew about these things, so he found out by just being in the room. There was no chance he could go, though, so Julian relied on her stories. “Is that what you mean?” 

CH: "me?" his brows lifting, he stares at julian, questioning what it's like to be colorful inside and there's the obvious joke about his organs and how blood is a bright red but it's more than that; he knows it is, that it's something more along the lines of how he likens claire to sunshine and julian to moonlight the more time they spend together. there's a sense of hesitation in the air from the hug but he brushes it off, smiles at julian again and nods in approval when a heart patch is paired with the balloon animal. "that's perfect!" hearing that the lota's clothes seem more suited for colder weather doesn't surprise him and he continues smiling, "that's okay! do you wanna put it on a sweater then?" because if julian doesn't want to wear shorter sleeved clothing, chase wouldn't push it on him. "lotus garden? that sounds pretty! do you think we could try? i wonder if cam would let us... we should all go to a festival. they seem so fun. but something like that! but i don't think if that sounds like a festival they'd have cotton candy at... i wish! but i don't want to forget! should we put these patches on a sweater for you?" 

JN: Julian could think of quite a few candidates of his own to stitch these things onto, but he took a better look at Chase's selection for reference. If their styles were that similar, then he could certainly find something that matches a couple of them. "Mhm sure," he nodded. "Let me go get one." He passed Chase, making a beeline for his closet, and noted that he should probably head to the laundry room again sometime soon. Some of the clothes in there were more suited to autumn and winter with their thicker fabrics. "What does a festival look like to you?" He came back with sapphire blue cashmere and sunset-gradient cotton sweaters. He figured they would suit the patches better. If anything, they were blank canvases. He stopped in place, smiling sheepishly at the bed as he put his clothes down. "Cam won't be awake to notice anyway." 

CH: pursing his lips, he drums his fingers along the bedframe, gaze still lingering on the different patches and debating if he prefers simple or more intricate or both. but he shouldn't be overzealous considering his sewing skills. toying with the hem of one of the shirts he brought in, he realizes late that if they're sewing the patches on for extra security, some of them might be too thin to hold up. chase recalls being told something like that, bits and pieces of the advice went over his head both in content and because he was distracted looking at them all. "like a lot of people!" his answer comes immediately, correcting himself, eyes brightening as he says, "lots of smiling people. families, little kids holding plushies and candy. ah, cotton candy..." trailing off dreamily, chase almost tastes it on the tip of his tongue. distracted now by the colors of the sweaters julian brings, he laughs, nodding in agreement. "let's pick a festival to go to then, you and me. we could ask near and baby too. it'll be like the ice cream shop!" 

JN: Rather than by subject themselves, Julian's starts separating and grouping the patches by color. It's a different sort of organization to the medicine cabinet, but arguably much more fun. He refrains from placing a few aside which would look like on his sweaters, and splits his attention with Chase talking instead. There's not much of a reference for him to go by when the camping trip would have to have been the first of its kind for him. The beach and boardwalk had a lot of different people and children smiling away their troubles and enjoying their day. Perhaps that's what Chase is referring to. They'd have to go back sometime, if possible. "Did you get any cotton candy during the trip?" He remembers being asked for the flavor at the ice cream parlor, but he never consumed the real thing himself. Julian looks up at Chase again once he's done organizing the patches with a small hum. "We should go again, yeah. Have you seen them around recently though?" 

CH: "i did! when i was on the boardwalk with cam," he grins, fond of the memory and even more fond of cam for getting cotton candy with him after the trip. sitting on the bed, he sorts through some of the clothes, debating which ones look best and sorting out the thicker materials from the thinner, setting those too thin behind him and off to the side after he realized moments ago it's best to stick to the former. "is there an ice cream parlour in town . . . there's the diner and the bakery . . . " just how long had it been since he went into the city or in town anyway? he'd become more of a homebody since becoming part of seraph and he doesn't mind it at all, but it is different from how he once lived. "oh, i see near more often because i . . . our rooms are close so i say good night most of the time," he clears his throat, staring down at one of the sweaters he last grabbed. "i want to spend more time with everyone. but that's hard to pull off, huh?" 

JN: It doesn't distract him too much. If anything, he's more than encouraging to have Chase talk, particularly more than him. It feels like the omega has so much to say at all times. Julian wants to get it out of him, learn and keep learning about everything Chase, if possible. "Oh, I didn't get to see him much. What else did you do there?" He still hasn't finished drawing everything he decides to remember in his journal, but among them already had been the cycling. There'd been quite a few firsts during the trip. "I haven't explored the town any. I guess the higher ranks would know. Or... Do you want to find it?" 'With me', he'd add, but he isn't the most reliable companion for such an excursion. Chase is really social, though. Surely he'd have someone to turn to for such a thing. "Depends on the wolf, I think." Pulling out one of the sweaters, he gets up to press it against his current wear. "This one? With the yellow and blue flowers?" 

CH: "mm, i don't think i remember much. i didn't seem cam much then eith— oh, i went to the aquarium!" how he made it there on his own, he doesn't know anymore but he had plenty of fun. "have you been before? we should go to one too." that's true, asking the higher ranks would make it easier. asking athena and yeon seems reasonably easy too. "ah— yeah! that sounds fun! let's go explore on our own," he pauses only because it's not the safest idea but they'd go during the day most likely so it should be okay, right? looking over the sweater, chase grins, looking for pins to keep them in place as they decide. didn't he bring some... reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the pins he borrowed, yellow flower-like stoppers on each one. "do you like butterflies? flowers and butterflies are cute! oh, or we could make it all flowers... too many options..." 

JN: Brows raised and mouth agape, the very notion of an aquarium takes him aback. "There was an aquarium?" One might even say the beach is the better trade, the very one littered with glass he'd gone with Athena. But the thing is, he had the time and energy to go. The sadness of missing out weighs him only the slight bit more. However, the proceeding invitation most probably outweighs ten folds. "Yeah! Let's go to an aquarium together." And plenty of other places. "Did you see any sharks?" At some point, one would just have to stop and ask whether he'd like to be a mer-wolf, right? His spring has arguably been filled with water-related trips. The hesitation is quite telling. No matter how well he can follow directions, follow a map, he'll always somehow get himself lost. But he appreciates the enthusiasm. Regardless, the here and now calls for other matters to be attended to. Namely, the very much blank sweaters in juxtaposition to the colorful and busy-looking patches right next to them. "We could make a garden, or the illusion of one." He quickly picks out three flowers he deems a color-match along with a blue butterfly to go in the center. "At the end of the sleeves, and then these leaf ones on the chest. Suture- Sew them together." 

CH: "yeah! it was . . . oh, it wasn’t that far from the bike shop we went to! i want to do that again too. biking with you or skating. i heard there was jet skis too but those are a bit more dangerous,” with a laugh, chase scratches at the back of his neck. “i think i might need more courage to go on one of those.” looking at julian, chase realizes he might be able to muster up enough bravery if they’re doing it together. there’s something about the lota that wrap him up in healing warmth, that allows him to feel comfortable and confident. maybe it’s the optimism that shines so brilliantly in ocean eyes, how it washes over him, refreshing and cool. “they had sharks! even the one with the, uh, it’s like . . . ah, the hammer shape head.” the name is so simple his cheeks flush a little once he realizes but his hands are already next to his own head, trying to make the shape, grin growing on his lips. “a garden sounds pretty,” his tone drips of awe and his cheeks hurt from smiling as he imagines it. “seraph has the best lotas,” he chuckles. “thinking of suturing even now.” taking the patches in hand, he tries to hold them up to the sweater to see where to pin them but it’s not the same comparing it in the air or even laying it down on the bed. “do you mind wearing it so i can pin them in place? i wanna figure out the best spots for each one.” 

JN: "Oh, I'll try anything once." He nods as if to make the statement final. "It sounds fun." There are so many more mundane things he has yet to experience, so doing something that isn't commonly done is of great interest. They shoot up higher up the do-to list if he has someone to do them with. "Hammer head sharks? I wonder how the glass doesn't break if they hit it." Julian looks off momentarily, a bit lost in thought as he holds the sweater closer to his chest. His gaze wanders to the blue pile of patches, plucking a random few from it, and thinks about how fish might feel if they see someone eat fish. "Speaking of which, do you like sushi?" Though he's about to sit back down on the bed, make more combinations, he pauses in place at the request. It's simple, certainly. But perhaps not to him. "Is that... really... okay?" As he swallows, he thinks the question is for himself as well. Only a couple of wolves have seen his torso, littered with scars that have since 'healed'. But scars don't really heal, do they? He carefully sets the sweater down, eyes downcast and color muted. And as if a tester, he pulls back his right sleeve to reveal a few more scattered scars; smaller knife cuts and veins more visible due to, what he thinks, is his paleness. 

CH: with the admission, chase wonders if julian is more daring than he thinks, more open but with his own secrets. but something like coming from julian doesn't carry the same tones or suggestion that some of their own pack members saying it would. he doesn't think so anyway but he still ends up swallowing thickly, pushing the thought away from his mind. wouldn't be the first time his mind wanders to that when the words itself had been said innocuously. "hammerhead sharks? oh... do you think it's as hard as a hammer? or harder since hammers... what came first?" but he's distracted by the mention of sushi instead of indulging in the sudden urge to google hammerhead sharks. "i love sushi!" he hesitates, remembering that it's not as common, right? a wolf preferring fish to red meat. "do you?" 

he's trying to wrap the pin cushion strap around his wrist, having seen it done a few times to make pinning easier as he sticks a few in there, when he looks over to julian. it seems like a trick of light at first until he realizes what's on julian's arm is really there and he gapes for a moment, wondering what to do. does he say something? does he pretend not to see? does he ask? a million thoughts start to run through his mind but his body moves before he can process, taking julian's arm and trailing his fingers over some of them, brows furrowed til he can manage to look julian in the eyes. "does it hurt? are you hurting?" he knows well enough from his own past that these scars could've come from anywhere, anything, anyone. 

JN: It's commonplace for his train of thought to switch from one lane to another, one random thought after another. He doesn't have a definitive answer for Chase, though. He's been told that tools have been around for more years than he can fathom, but as a species of fish, it's likely they came around first. "They're prehistoric, I think. The shark, fish. But yeah, I do like sushi. I'll make it for you sometime." The words come out easier that way. They don't hold any personal history to them, not like what he ends up revealing to the omega. He swallows thickly, unsure whether to keep going or cut their losses now. Julian expects scorn, mockery, perhaps even anger. Something similar to what he got from those... Whoever they were. They looked like them, like this, but were they really wolves? Or just humans? Just humans doesn't feel right to even think when they were the assumed individuals responsible for all this torture. Some of these cuts were fresh back then, the start of his new life. But even now, almost two years later, the phantom feeling of the stings returns as the memory does. "No." He covers his sleeve back up. "No, it doesn't." Blinking up at Chase, he manages a sliver of a smile, though short-lived. "The rest of me is like that, though." Ugly. Damaged. Unworthy. "I can't do anything about it."  He curls his fingers by the edges of his shirt, but he can't move them. As kind and compassionate Chase has always been to him, he's still afraid. He's afraid that it'll be too much to be kind to. 

CH: "are they?" then again, his knowledge of this and that when it comes to anything beyond basic information is questionable at best. though he had access to certain materials to try learning, he was limited by what he could get from the human children in the house, trying to help them to avoid being— well, that's something else entirely, now, isn't it? he shouldn't let his thoughts drift there. shift the sails, guide it elsewhere like getting lost in ocean eyes. "i'd like that." but he'd enjoy anything julian makes for him, that julian wants to make something chase likes is even sweeter. bated breath is released when julian says no, that it doesn't hurt, that he's not in physical pain at the very least and he can't imagine it. he can't imagine having physical scars to match the emotional ones left behind. the faint smile clenches at his heart and he's reaching out to grab julian's hand as it fixes his sleeve, catching them just when they linger at the hem of their shirt. "so the rest of you is soft and warm? sweet and comfortable?" the words slip out faster than he can think because how julian sounds when he says he can't do anything about it nearly breaks his heart. he doesn't have to do anything about them. if they're a part of julian, they're just as lovable as he is. "is that . . . is that why you wear long sleeves even in summer?" 

JN: In all honesty, there’s nothing good that he expects out of this. Showing even a little bit is a rick he so adamantly avoids. Sometimes he wonders if he could get away with suturing cloth to his skin, but that’s a little extreme, isn’t it? Just like how he’d rather inject himself with vitamins than eat most days. It’s not healthy in every sense of the idea, he knows. It’s like he can only think in extremes. So when Chase speaks again, using positive adjectives with such fondness in his tone, he grows evermore speechless. Even breathing in this moment feels like a violation of all that is socially acceptable. But asphyxiation is a real way to one’s demise, so he doesn’t. He’s shaking, though, he can’t help that bit. 

How could you say that? He wants to ask. Short and simple, and very curious. It might take more than five minutes, more than an hour perhaps, to even process those words. Soft and warm? Sweet and comfortable? Is that how he’s projecting? “Isn’t that all you?” He swallows, regretting his words the millisecond before it leaves his lips. He’s so in his head right now that it feels trapping. As if he can only see Chase in this moment, and yet that’s sort of hard to do right now. “You’re lying if it’s not you.” He remains seated on his bed. His bed, yet it feels so unfamiliar all of a sudden. Julian presses his eyes closed, nodding his head at the question as he hides his arms behind his pulled up legs. A barrier, he supposes. He doesn’t know, really. He wants to… He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want Chase to reject him, but it feels so much like it.

[ksehyun]

     task o n e ; the boy behind the mask.

            ❝ so l e t me go, i don’t wanna be your HERO, i don’t wanna be a big man ; i just want to fight like everyone else. ❞

- ̗̀   BASICS   ̖́-

full name: kang sehyun.

nickname(s): hyun, hyunnie, etc,.

gender & pronouns: cis-gendered male & he/him.

sexual & romantic orientation: ... still unsure of both.

age & dob: twenty years old ( internationally ) & november 5th, 1996.

birthplace/hometown: seo district, busan, south korea.

parents/siblings:  one younger sister ( sora ; 15 ), & two younger brothers ( jaewoo ; 14 ), & ( jinwoo ; 12 ). parents ; jeon mi-yeon ( mother, 46 ), & kang yo-han ( father ; 47 ).

astrological sign: scorpio.

dominant hand: while he’s rather ambidextrous, his left hand is more dominant. 

handwriting style: his handwriting style is very nice & clean, no matter what language he’s writing in.

language(s) known/spoken: korean ( first ), english ( fluent ), & french ( still learning --- he only really knows how to flirt in french. and not well. ).

religion: while he was raised on christian beliefs, he’s not all too sure of what he believes as an adult.

current living arrangements: studio apartment in seoul with his cat. ( and joonyoung ).

occupation/major: majoring in architecture, minoring in english literature, and working part-time as a waiter. ( do my characters ever have any other .. job ).

- ̗̀   APPEARANCES   ̖́-

picture reference: x. ( gifset but w/e ).

blood type: o.

skin tone/color: tanned, despite what one might think.

birthmarks & scars: sehyun has an oddly shaped birthmark on his left wrist, which some people are convinced looks like a star, while he sees it as a plain patch of darker skin. and as for scars, well ... most of them are on his hands, along with a number of callouses.

height: 6'2″ /  190cm.

build: tall & lanky, very little muscle mass.

hair color: black.

eye color: dark brown.

diet: surprisingly, sehyun does try to manage to keep a decently balanced diet --- he just doesn’t do a very good job.

exercise & level of fitness: he walks just about everywhere, but that’s the extent of exercise plan tbh.

how’s their posture ( or lack thereof ) ? the only time sehyun’s posture is proper is either when he’s standing or just thinking about it. in general, when he’s sketching and such, he’s often hunched over in positions that can’t be good for anyone.

typical style of dress: typically, t-shirt and jeans x & occasionally, large sweaters and jeans x.

body modifications: none.

- ̗̀   BODY LANGUAGE & MANNERISMS   ̖́-

how does your muse walk ? he tends to walk with considerably long strides because his legs are so long, and with his head down. he’s a rather considerate walker, however, as he’ll match the stride of anyone walking with him.

how does your muse talk ? when he does, it’s usually a bit quick, & often formal, but there are times when he will drop formalities completely. he tries his best to speak respectfully, but there are times when he comes off as quite blunt.

what accent/dialect does your muse talk with ? while he definitely has a busan accent, he’s adjusted to the seoul dialect rather quickly & easily.

how high (or low) is the tone of their voice? are they loud or quiet ?  the pitch of sehyun’s voice hovers around a middle register. his voice is neither high nor particularly low, & when he speaks he is rather quiet.

what is their laugh like ? again, rather quiet -- he tends to be hyper aware whenever he bursts out laughing, so, he has learned to keep himself rather quiet, even with something as abrupt as laughter.

how does your muse typically smell ? the smell of cigarettes seems to follow him around wherever he goes, but beneath that he typically smells like either peppermint or lemon, as they’re two of his favorite scents.

what kind of air do they carry ? are they intimidating ? intimidating is just about the last word to describe kang sehyun. he carries an almost timid air, but not quite.

- ̗̀   PSYCHOLOGY  ̖́-

what makes your muse happiest ? as a cohesive list ; his family, sakura, his art supplies, art in general, wandering around museums, & sleep, when he actually gets around to it.

what upsets them the most ? nothing in particular upsets him outright. could be everything and could be nothing. he gets upset for no reason sometimes.

does your muse have any quirks ?  sehyun tends to bite on pencils and pens when he’s thinking while drawing/writing, and he often plays with his fingers/hands when he’s nervous, and he tends to clean excessively when he’s feeling particularly anxious.

what are their hobbies ? how frequent do/can they do them ? sehyun actually writes quite a bit ! not about anything interesting, and he doesn’t take it all too seriously, so he considers it a hobby. along with painting, sculpting, etc,.

do they have any guilty pleasures ? believe it or not, american reality television.

is your muse an extrovert ? an introvert ? neither ? sehyun is definitely introverted.

do they have high or low self-esteem ? what about confidence ? sehyun’s self-esteem and confidence are moderate. while he’s not walking around hating himself, he doesn’t feel as if he’s all that great either.

are they easily stressed ? how do they respond to stress ? is he easily stressed ? easily stressed might as well be his middle name. & he responds to it terribly. god awful. no one wants to be near this boy when he gets stressed out ; he’s in luck, though, because he doesn’t want to see anyone either.

what is your muses worst fear ? ironically, ending up alone.

what is your muses biggest dream ? to be in charge of the architectural design of buildings all around korea.

is your muse an early riser ? a night owl ? both, and it frustrates the fuck out of him.

how intelligent is your muse ? do they acknowledge it ? sehyun is rather intelligent and has always been a bit aware of it, but it isn’t something he would typically bring up in conversation.

what is their sense of humour like ? he has one?

- ̗̀   RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES   ̖́-

what’s their sexual orientation ? what about romantic ? unsure and super unsure. he doesn’t know what he’s into either way. he’s had romantic relationships with females before, and a bit of sexual experience with them, but he’s also found himself somewhat crushing on boys too ( or so, people have described what he’s feeling to be a crush ). it’s one thing he hates thinking about, because whenever he does he gets quite scared. so, he just doesn’t know, because he doesn’t want to know ??

are they currently in any sexual or romantic relationships ? no.

what is their experience with relationships ? he has ... very little experience, if i’m honest. he’s not exactly the best with any form of relationship that isn’t familial. 

how does your muse view the idea of friends with benefits ? have they ever had one, or would they ever ? he doesn’t find the idea preposterous, and he sees where the benefits would be --- but he’s never had one before.

sex, is it important to your muse ? not all that important. he’s had sex only a few times and he doesn’t find himself desperate for it when he’s without.

what are their biggest turn on and turn offs ? turn ons ; fresh scents, longing gazes .. & he’s got a thing for being pushed up against walls, s2g. as for turn offs ; literally everything else lmao.

does your muse find it easy to make friends ? while he finds it a bit easy to make friends, keeping friends is what he typically struggles with. he’s constantly immersed in his head in a way that makes him seem like?? he doesn’t give a shit about you after awhile, but it’s just that when he’s used to having someone around for a bit, he tends to calm down with his neediness.

how important is friendship to them ? moderately important. he’s always been quite shit at keeping friends, but the few that he’s had that have been life long, he considers them family.

quantity or quality of friends ? quality, for sure.

how important is family ? hands down the most important thing to him ever.

are they close to their family ? why or why not ? he’s extremely close to his family and everyone in it, but his siblings most of all.

- ̗̀   HEADCANONS   ̖́-

though he sketches during any hour of the day, sehyun prefers to sketch at dawn. there’s something about the hour or so that’s a bit calming, especially after failing to stay asleep. he often gets his best regarded ideas then, too.

he pretty much raised his siblings growing up; not that his parents were negligent, he just claimed himself to be the third parent of the family.

sehyun is the biggest nerd you will ever encounter. though he doesn’t talk about it a lot or openly, he has a huge love for all things sci-fi.

he named his cat after the naruto character ... jfc kid