#it feels weird drawing them without their overalls

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[justladders]

To everyone in the art community, please:

Tracing is effective. But only as a learning tool. Telling people "never trace" can be robbing them of methods that could have been effective to their learning process if they'd known about them.

The "art of using tracing" is a bit looked over, so I have five points:

(it's a long one)

1: AS A RULE OF THUMB, DO NOT POST/SHARE TRACED AND STOLEN ARTWORK. This is not only lying to anyone you show it to, if you're trying to come off as, "I'm so good, look at what I did," but most importantly, it's lying to yourself. You'll trick yourself into not needing to get any better, and you will stagnate if you start to rely on tracing as a form of stealing. If you come to realize that you are, you should stop using any tracing methods altogether to keep yourself from abusing it. It's a slippery slope for beginners, and a big reason why you’ll hear almost everyone echo that you just shouldn’t trace at all. The issue is that this ignores the ways that tracing can actually be good.

2: Tracing sets the stage for motor skills/hand-eye coordination. I've seen so many early-stage beginner artists get upset that the art that they make of their favorite character/oc is messy, or maybe they just don't even know what they want to draw and can’t "make themselves mindlessly doodle.” These early arists then become completely disheartened and upset, especially if they start to look at other people for comparison. Tracing over work or even over photos is a way to train your hand to hold and wield a pencil/stylus properly without you being worried about the finished product. Think of it like a way to dip your toe into learning the process of what making art feels like, without having to get overwhelmed with searching up pointers and people telling you, "10 quick tips to become a master artist!!!!!!!" (<- please ignore those) If you’re just beginning, your hand-eye coordination needs to be trained, and you shouldn't bog yourself down so much thinking about end products just yet, so if tracing is the way to get you started, go for it. If you're a bit more experienced, tracing and drawing over reference can also help you warm up without being committal or stressing your art brain too much.

3: Practice "mindful tracing." While I said the previous point was targeted more at beginners, this point is actually about something that experts in their field use. Doing "mindful tracing" over art means that you aren't worried about getting the lines "correct," you're studying why those lines are there. You're taking note of where the shadows meet the highlights based on the light source, how it shows off the forms, and how sharp or soft the lighting is; you're going over the lines of action in the piece to see how your eye is guided by the artist's intention and planning; you're seeing how characters may be stylized into shapes and the feeling that those shapes can give; you're noting how the artist uses line weight or weird blocks of color or stark breaks to split up the art or separate ideas within it; you're experiencing the flow of the poses within the artwork to grasp how that kind of thing feels; you're breaking down the overall composition like in a thumbnail sketch; and the list goes on.

"Mindful tracing" ends up looking like you've marked up an English essay: it should be messy, because the intent with it is not to copy or replicate, it's to notate. It's like how literally writing notes on things helps you remember better than if you only read it. You're acknowledging instead of just looking. And you can always learn, even from styles that you don't intend on actually using. As you get to be more experienced, you may come to realize that you can do "mindful tracing" analyses on artwork without having to literally write over top of the piece, which is great: that means you're improving your creative brain, and prepping it to be able to break down your own works in this way as you make them.

4: Trace for specific character or style studying. For this point, I want to especially stress that this is what makes everyone say, "don't trace," because this is what tracing is most commonly associated with: art theft. There's really no excusable reason to repost someone's art in this way.

I feel like you have to be a bit more experienced to properly use tracing specifically for style studies. The benefits that come with tracing a certain style is that it can quite literally teach your hand/brain to recognize the patterns that are present. You get a feel for how far apart a specific characters eyes are, how big their hands are, how the shapes of the body make up their form, how the exaggeration in the expressions feel, and when traced you know you have all of these proportions correct. This makes it so much easier to start drawing the specific character on your own if you know that you have a correct baseline (and of course you should still use reference from then on). When you study many different characters of the same style, you can start to grasp what actually makes up this style that you're studying, where -similar to point #3- you train your art brain to recognize the original artists' intentions and ideas. I would even argue that doing this is MORE IMPORTANT than using reference at the very beginning of a style study, because it makes you worry less about if you're pulling from the reference correctly and instead lets you focus on the original art by thinking through it during the process; this kind of thing is done by professionals. Although tracing can net you these benefits for studies, it is not a way to get around the rest of the learning process, which is the pitfall that normally ends up making tracing ineffective.

5: Lastly, I actually kind of lied about tracing "only being good as a learning tool." The other case where tracing gets used is within the process of making hand drawn animation, and I do mean the professional stuff. Model guides are constantly used in classic animation as reference to keep by the animator's side so that characters stay on model, but sometimes there are unnoticeable parts of a character that just get straight-up traced from either the model sheet or a different scene that's already animated. When used smartly and sparingly, this keeps the character on model, is unidentifiable to the audience, and takes up less time for the animators to work (and by "used smartly" I don't mean moments where characters blatantly have 5 seconds of reused animation). I can basically guarantee that this practice was done throughout the making of any 2D project you can think of.

In digital hand drawn art, key frames between points in an animation may get the "shift and trace" treatment, where the tween frame is just a smudged-around-version of the key frames until it looks about right, and then it get traced over. Backgrounds get traced all the time by artists in the professional field through modelling a 3D render of the space, going over it so they have the layout, and then painting on top of it. When drawing characters, people will take photos of themselves and trace the pose, then keep it to the side as reference. And this is all without even mentioning rotoscoping.

When people say, "don't trace," what they actually mean is, "don't trace as a substitute for experience."

The issue is that people blanketly state, "x thing is bad," because then people that aren't learned in the field go, "oh, okay, x thing is bad, it will always be bad, I shouldn't look into it or consider it any more, and I should correct/disgrace anyone that thinks otherwise or does x thing."

So please. Trace. Tell other people to trace. But remember: trace mindfully. :)

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT TWO: RIBS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

summary: You showed up to the "get-together" Natalie invited you to. It was, apparently, more than just a "get-together".

wc: 5350

warnings: reader drinks alcohol, mentions of drug usage, lowkey reader getting a little obsessive

a/n: i have angst in my pants!

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE ONE

NEXT - ACT TWO: IF YOU'RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)

You shouldn't be here.

You aren't sure how many times that thought has echoed inside your head since your mom dropped you off at your friend's house a few blocks away, and how many more times you've reiterated the same thought since you started walking toward the location of the party.

According to Google Maps (because Natalie sent the geographical coordinates to it, like a normal person would), it's on an empty lot in some abandoned industrial sector.

You can see and hear the party from a block away. Because… it is a party. It is not just a 'friendly get-together', or whatever Nat had said. It is a party. And you feel out of your depth by a long shot. Realistically, you could turn around and leave. It's not like anyone has seen you yet, and it's not like you even know anyone here besides Natalie.

…but then you would need to walk back to your friend's house. Call your mom. Ask her to come pick you up already. Explain why you…

Ugh.

You walk into the industrial lot, partygoers surrounding you on all sides, music blasting off of someone's phone that's hooked up to some dollar store Bluetooth speakers.

The entire place reeks of shitty beer, cigarette smoke, cotton candy vape, and weed.

Yep. This is a high school party. You're half expecting to find someone hooking up in a bush somewhere.

Someone probably is. You'd rather not think about that.

You hug the lot's edges, weaving through clusters of people you vaguely recognize from school. However, you swear you see more than a few people who graduated, which is kinda weird if you're being honest, but maybe that's just the 'high school party' experience.

As you continue to walk the lot, you feel more out of place than ever. The music is somehow too loud and cheap simultaneously, distorting with every bass drop. You’re clutching at your phone like a lifeline, scrolling mindlessly just to look busy.

And then you see her.

You aren't surprised to see her surrounded by people. Nat's leaning up against a support pillar, a cigarette pinched between her fingers, and a lazy grin on her face as she says something that makes her friends—faces you vaguely recognize—laugh.

When her gaze flashes over to you, you feel a brief flicker of hope that she's about to wave you over to her friends, introduce you, invite you into her circle…

Yet, all she does is give you a small nod of her head, a slight raise of her bottle, and before you can even think to wave back, she returns to the conversation she was having with her friends.

You aren't sure why her ignoring you hurts the way it does, but you feel a slight sting of pain in your chest all the same. Did she really just invite you just to ignore you? You try and tell yourself that you're just overthinking things—she’s probably just busy with her friends—but that nagging feeling doesn’t go away. 

You move yourself deeper into the lot, immersing yourself further into the party, hoping to avoid drawing attention to yourself by blending in with the crowds. A group of seniors—or maybe they've already graduated, it's hard to tell—pass by you, laughing loudly and overall being obnoxious, nearly drunkenly stumble into you. You sidestep them awkwardly, clutching your phone like you'd die without it as you attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

You find a busted folding table off to the side of the party, various different drinks, mixers, coolers, and cheap beers decorating its surface. You grab the least offensive-looking drink—a Pineapple Truly—and crack the can as you move to lean against a stack of wooden pallets, eyes searching the party for any sign of someone you know.

And, much to your unsurprise, you don't recognize anyone that you would actually know and would know you. The cool night air does little to ease the nerves twisting in your stomach, and you find yourself scanning the crowd for Natalie again. She’s nowhere to be seen.

Great.

The next time you manage to catch sight of Nat, she's walking right past you.

You're taking a sip of a (different) Pineapple Truly, trying to blend in and act like you aren't mentally freaking out. Leaning up against the pallets, you let your eyes scan the busy crowd. Occasionally, someone bumps into you or stumbles too close, and you shrink back further into the shadows.

Then, that person who stumbles too close ends up being Nat. Finally.

Natalie’s walking past you, her head turned to say something to someone trailing behind her. “Hey—” you start to call out, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look your way.

Oh.

You clear your throat and take a step back, hiding yourself further, and squeeze your can just tight enough to hear it crinkle under your grasp. It's not like you expected her just to drop everything and run over to you, but… something? Anything?

You sigh, down the rest of the drink in the can, and then toss it into a nearby trash bin. "Fuck me." You murmur to yourself as you cross your arms.

“Hey.” A voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to see a girl with a sunlit warmth to her skin and dark, wavy hair with a soft smile. You vaguely recognize her—she plays on the soccer team. You're pretty sure she comes from money; if her outfit is any indication. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Oh, uh…” You fumble for a response, shifting awkwardly. “Natalie invited me.”

The girl raises an eyebrow, her smile turning a little knowing. “And you’re just… hanging out here? Not with her?” She glances in Nat's general direction before turning back to you, "What's up with that?"

You shrug, unsure how to answer that without sounding pathetic. “Good question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” A sigh escapes your lips, and you wish you had another can of… well… anything, honestly, to drown out the noise in your head.

She laughs lightly, her gaze flicking back toward the crowd. “Don’t read too much into it. Nat’s… well, Nat. If she invited you, she wanted you here. That’s just how she is.”

"Doesn't mean it feels good." You murmur, kicking at a discarded cigarette butt on the ground below. 

A sympathetic smile graces her face, "She's a complicated person," a beat, "try not to overthink it." The way she adds the last part makes it sound like she knows something you don't, and honestly? She probably does.

"Easier said than done." You sigh and glance out over the crowd with her, "I don't know, I guess I was just…" You stop yourself, realising that talking to a total stranger about this probably isn't the best idea. "Uh… any advice?" 

"On dealing with Natalie?" She laughs humourlessly, and you get the sense she wants to say something really sarcastic, but when she sees the look in your eyes, she pauses and sighs. "Just… take your time. She's complicated. And there really isn't advice I can give you. Just…take most things she says with a grain of salt." A beat, "You'll know what I mean when it happens."

"When it happens?" You shake your head, slightly confused, "What does that mean?"

The girl shrugs, opens her mouth, then turns her head in the direction of someone yelling, "Lottie!" And… she's off without giving you an answer to your question.

What the fuck did you get yourself into here?

Another twenty minutes of passive-aggressive house music and shitty alcoholic beverages pass before you finally see Nat again.

She's standing in front of a steel drum fire with some lanky goth kid and this dorky-looking guy with curly hair, staring into the fire with a blank expression on her face.

Which is slightly concerning, but that's an issue to deal with at a later date and time. 

But, hey. Might as well approach.

You run off to one of the tables and quickly grab a beer for her and another Truly for yourself before darting back out in her direction, and—

God-fucking-dammit.

You swear this girl must be a fucking poltergeist or something with how she just fades in and out of crowds. It could be considered an art, really.

You grumble under your breath in frustration, downing both the beer (which you don't really enjoy the flavour of, but whatever) and the Truly within seconds of each other before tossing both containers into a nearby trashcan.

You aren't gonna sit around for the rest of the party, waiting to talk to the one person that you actually know here.

Grabbing one more Truly for the road, you decide to leave.

When you hear it, you're halfway across the lot, clusters of people slowly thinning out to nothing.

"PRINCESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" A loud, drunken voice slurs out, "WHERE YA' GOIN'?"

The exaggerated drawl and familiar pet name stop you in your tracks, jaw and fists immediately clenching in frustration. You really should just keep walking. Stand your ground. Prove you're angry! She spent the past two(ish) hours avoiding you! You're mad!

Which is exactly why you turn around to face the voice.

Against your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder, and there she is—Natalie Scatorccio, looking far too pleased with herself as she jogs over to you, the ends of her bleach-blonde hair catching the dim glow of the fire behind her.

"Home." You reply flatly, crossing your arms in a subconscious act of putting up walls. "Thought I'd leave since the person that invited me didn't seem to care too much if I was here or not." The words come out petulant, and you honestly sound like a middle school girl who just found out her friends had a sleepover and didn't invite her, but whatever.

"Wait, what?" Nat shakes her head, seemingly sobering up at the mention of you leaving. "Wh— s-seriously?" A nervous laugh escapes her as she steps forward, "But… wait… hold on." Another nervous laugh, "We haven't even talked—"

"You've barely even acknowledged me all night, Nat." You cut her off with a murmur, crossing your arms defensively, "Like… you walked right past me earlier! What am I supposed to assume?"

The blonde opens and closes her mouth for a moment, brain apparently lagging a little as she tries to come up with a response, "I… I was just…" She runs a hand over her face, "Fuck."

When her hand drops, you see exactly why her response time is so slow. It's not that you know what she's taken, but based on the way her pupils are dilated and how spaced out she seems, it's glaringly apparent she's done more than just drink while she's been here.

"Princess." She sighs, "Look. I wasn't… I wasn't doing it on purpose, okay? I've just…" A groan, "I've been busy all night, is all."

"Seriously?" You murmur back, "That's it? That's the best you can come up with? That you were busy?"

"Well—!" She throws her hands in the air in frustration, although she looks more upset at herself than you. "Whatever. Look… just… whatever. I was leaving, anyway. I'll come along with you."

"No." You say, shaking your head, "I don't need to babysit you on my walk back."

"Babysit?" Nat scoffs, "I'm fucking capable of taking care of myself."

"Are you?" You don't have much experience with drugs, but you get the gist of what it means to be under the influence. "Because it took you a solid ten seconds to figure out a response to me calling out the way you acted tonight."

She can't dispute that, it seems. 

You huff and turn around, "Whatever, Natalie."

"No, w-wait, hey—!" The sound of someone stumbling over their own feet from behind you, "I… look…" She falls into step beside you, "Come on. Let me make it up to you." Her words are slightly slurred, and her gait growing more unsteady with each step.

"No." You reply flatly, still walking away as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Dude." Nat groans, continuing to walk beside you. "Please? I don't… fuck. I feel bad. Please."

Despite yourself, you slow down slightly. "And what exactly would I be doing with you?"

Nat lights up at that, "Uh. Right. Okay. So. I was thinking… I could… just… walk you home? Or something? I don't… I don't know where you live or anything, but I'm assuming it's far from here? And, uh, I could walk you back?"

You shake your head, "Don't you live in the trailer park? That's a pretty long walk from my place. I don't want to—"

The blonde waves her hands frantically and cuts you off, "No! No! Seriously. It's fine. I want to walk with you. I don't care if I have to take a two-hour detour, okay? I wanna walk you home." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the same switchblade you saw her with the day you two went on the convenience store run and shoots you a small grin, "I can be your bodyguard for the night?"

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. "Am I going to regret this?"

A dumb, stupid grin consumes Nat's face. "Nope!" She pops the 'p' excitedly, " You will not—" She trips over her own feet, nearly faceplants, catches herself on a streetlamp, stumbles back into a trash can, and then drops her knife as she almost falls into said trash can.

You stop and turn around, staring at her unblinking like you can't believe that just happened. And you can't. Talk about comedic timing.

"You have to be fucking with me." You murmur as you look down at Nat, lying there in a Family Guy Death Pose. "We haven't even begun, and you've already—"

"Getting up!" She murmurs, scrambling to put her hands on the trashcan to boost herself to a standing position. "Up! I'm up!" She brushes her pants off and looks around frantically for her knife, "Did you, uh, see where—"

You nod at where it's lying in the grass next to the sidewalk, "I'd also see if you can find your brain cells while you're down there." The words come out in a quiet mumble under your breath, "Maybe your… soberness while you're at it."

Nat waves her hand dismissively at the added comments, "Yeah, yeah. Get it out now, Princess." She grumbles as she slips the knife into her waistband, "Now, come on." She hops back up to full height (which, to be fair, wasn't much taller), "I've got a princess to escort home."

You wish you could fight the smile that appears on your face at her words, as cheesy as they are. "You're so dumb." You murmur out, but you swear she can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. "I better not have to carry you."

The girl—seemingly in a much better mood—shakes her head. "Nah. Promise I won't put you through that. At least…" She leans in slightly, "Well, unless you want to carry me?"

You shove her shoulder to push her back from your proximity, "Fuck off. I don't want to carry your drunk ass home."

"Drunk?" She laughs, stumbling a bit from your shove, "I've only had two beers, thank you very much."

Based on your narrowed, suspicious glance, she knows you think that's a lie. "I'm serious. Two beers. Just two."

"Fine." You roll your eyes as the two of you walk side-by-side, Nat seemingly instinctively standing on the side closest to the street, "But you obviously did something else."

An undignified, incredulous snort leaves her, "What makes you so sure of that? You even been around a party with drugs?" A beat, "Oh, right. You've barely partied at all."

Although the words are teasing, they also hurt slightly for reasons you can't properly name. A lack of the assumed 'high school experience,' maybe? Either way, there's a small stinging in your chest you choose to ignore for the time being. "Your pupils are wide enough that you can barely see the green in your eyes, for starters." You huff, "It took you, like, ten seconds to come up with a response earlier. You were tripping and stumbling all over—" You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a frustrated exhale, slowing down slightly. "I know I'm not streetsmart, like you. But I'm not completely useless. I know what it looks like when someone is high, Nat."

Nat sighs and slows down with you, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not like… I took something…" She sighs again, "It was just a party drug. Just some special K."

"Special… K?" You say, confused. "Like… the cereal?"

Nat has to stop herself from face-palming, "The… cereal? Really? No, obviously, it's not the cereal, dumbass." She rolls her eyes, but a grin twitches on her lips at the teasing comment, "Fucking… K." A beat, and when you still don't understand, she swallows and glances around for a moment before mumbling out a "ketamine."

"Ketamine?!" You stop walking, turning to face her, "What?! A fucking horse tranquillizer—!"

She clamps her hand over your mouth, "Jesus Christ! Did you want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear?!" She glances around properly this time, checking to ensure no one overheard your little outburst, "Yes! Okay? But, like, the dose you take at parties is hardly the same as the dose that gets used to fucking… K.O horses! It's not the first time I've done it, alright? It probably won't be the last! But I'm fine! You don't need to fucking act like I just confessed I was shooting up or some shit!"

"Have you?!" You mumble against her palm, to which she starts shaking her head rapidly.

"No. I've done a lot of shit to my body, but everything's been through the mouth or nose, alright?" A beat, and when she's sure you won't start screaming again, she lowers her hand. "'s not like I do it by myself, alright? It's only ever at parties with friends. People I trust to buy from." And, for added measure, "Don't need you worrying about me. Alright, Princess? I'm…" She hesitates, choosing a word to fit the situation, "Careful. Okay? I'm careful."

"You say that, but you never really know—"

"I don't need your ass getting all over me about this, okay?!" Nat snaps, cutting you off. "Say whatever drug bullshit PSA you need to, but I'm not gonna fucking stop using it when I need—uh, want to, alright?!"

You almost open your mouth to respond to that, snap back at her and raise your voice, but by some grace of God, you don't. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a step back, "Fine." You sigh, "Whatever, Nat. Do your…" You gesture at nothing, "Drugs. Do your fucking drugs."

"Oh, get off it." Nat scoffs, "Acting that you're soooooo much better than me because you're all straight cut and innocent." 

The assumption and the anger in her tone cause you to step back, swallowing down a lump of… something in your throat. "You know I wasn't even thinking that, Nat." You murmur, hurt lacing the words. "I'm just—"

"I don't need you to be worried about me. I don't fucking need—"

"I get it, Nat!" You cut her off, "You don't need anyone worrying about you. Or caring about you. Or even being friends with you. I get it. But I can't help that I care about people, okay?! You just happen to be a person!"

Nat opens and closes her mouth uselessly a few times, trying to formulate some sort of response to your comment but failing to come up with one that wouldn't just be her repeating what was already said. 

Eventually, "Didn't ask you to care." The blonde grumbles, crossing her arms pettishly. But… she doesn't seem to have a proper rebuttal to your claim, letting the two of you fester in the uncomfortable silence that's accumulated. 

A few moments pass in that awkward tension before Nat scuffs her combat boots on the pavement below, "Look, Princess, I…" She uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her hair, refusing to meet your eyes. "Look. I appreciate the concern, yeah? I just… I don't need or want it, okay?" Then, under her breath, "Hardly worth caring about like that, anyway."

"Nat, c'mon…" You murmur back, taking a careful step toward her, "I…" But the way she looks genuinely uncomfortable at the idea of someone worrying about her makes you hesitate. 

You haven't known her all too long, but you get the idea she's never had anyone look after her. You may not get it, and you'll never be able to understand what that was like properly, but you can't help the way your heart aches at the thought.

Maybe the walls run higher and deeper than you initially thought they would.

"C'mon." You murmur, nodding off in the direction of your house, "I was promised armed protection on my walk home, wasn't I?"

Nat looks back up at you, and a small, barely perceptible smile makes its way onto her face, "Yeah, uh, yeah. I did. You were." 

"Then let's go. Don't have all night." With that, you turn off to start walking and hoping she'll follow.

She does. 

It's like Nat said. If they want to follow you, they will.

"So, uh, where do you live?" Nat tries after a few minutes of you two walking in silence, "You said it was away from the trailer park, and we're heading east, so… Willow's Court?"

"Oh, uh," You blink a few times in shock, "No, but it's right next to it. Uh, Woodsmere Crescent?"

Nat nods a few times, then realises it probably sounds weird that she just… knows the names of all the neighbourhoods on the east side of town, "Yeah, uh, Shauna lives in Willow's Court. So… you just sorta learn the general area."

That… makes sense, you suppose. Either way, you decide not to push that matter further, "You… hang out with her a lot, then?"

Her nose scrunches in response to that question, "Not really. Just end up going by if I get a ride home from parties. Occasionally, we go over there for 'team-bonding exercises'—or whatever Jackie decides to call them that day—but I don't really spend a lot of time with Shauna. She seems okay, or whatever." Nat shrugs, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket as she walks alongside you, feet stable on the solid ground. "Only really talk to Lottie and Van."

You blink at the name. Lottie. That was the girl that you talked to earlier—the one that told you not to overthink your interactions with Nat. You try not to let the slight surprise show on your face as you probe for more information, "You close with them, then? Lottie and Van?"

She briefly considers that before giving you a slight nod, "Yeah. Known Van my whole life. We joined the soccer team together back in middle school. Just ended up sticking with it."

"Hey, obviously, it worked out!" You nudge her with your elbow, "Starting Varsity. Gotta be in the sights of some scouts for colleges, right?"

An uncomfortable frown appears on Nat's face at the mention of 'college,' "Yeah, uh, I dunno. Think I accepted a while ago that my chance to get out of this shithole has passed."

That makes you frown back, "What do you mean?"

The blonde runs one of her hands through her hair, hesitating for a long moment with her reply. "It's…" A sigh, "Don't worry about it, yeah?"

You frown, and really want to find out what the fuck she means by that, but you can tell from the look on her face that pushing the topic would only make her mad.

Maybe one day.

Silence festers in the air between the two of you for a handful of blocks, and you more than regret bringing up the future. You suppose it makes sense. She probably lives on an 'if I survive this year' philosophy, never entirely thinking about the long-term consequences of her actions. 

Eventually, Nat decides she can't take the awkward silence and again breaks it, "You gotta be smart though, right? You got colleges knocking on your doors? Maybe for your art?"

"My… art?" You glance at her, eyes widened. "It's… it's hardly good enough for college-level arts programs. Just something I do for fun."

Nat immediately shakes her head, "No… no, I've seen your work. It's good, dude. Like that's the stuff that belongs in art magazines or whatever. And you can't say it's just for fun when you take art classes."

Your face heats immediately at the compliment, and you find yourself stuttering over a meek 'thanks…' having not expected such high praise, especially from Natalie Scatorccio of all people.

This girl is… confusing. You've already determined she's got walls higher than China, but you've started to see the cracks forming in them. There are small, barely visible cracks, but some fractures in the walls nonetheless. There's that old adage about 'one step forward, two steps back,' but… you think you're making some progress. Slowly chipping away at the defenses she's built over time. Maybe you could—

"I think you could get out of this town." Nat murmurs, breaking the quiet (and your train of thought). "You got the brains and the talent. You could do it." Her words are surprisingly genuine, and you think she shocked herself at the admission, based on the way her eyes quickly dart to and from you. 

"Thanks, uh, Nat." You murmur back, equally as flustered as she is. "Don't get a lot of compliments."

It's like a switch flips in her head at the follow-up comment and her entire demeanour changes. Nat walks vaguely closer to you as the pair of you travel down the sidewalk. "Don't get a lot of compliments?" She clicks her tongue, "Princess, who has been depriving you of that? If anyone deserves praise, it's gotta be you." A lop-sided grin rests easily on her face, a far cry from the girl who was just flustered while complementing your art.

"Uh." You swallow nervously, "Uh. Yeah, uh, thanks." 

Natalie drops a low laugh at your fumbled reply, the sound causing an unexpected shiver to rake down your spine. "Anytime, Princess." A beat, "You know, I've got more where that came from. Started with your art and brains, let's move to…" She hums in mock thought, eyes tracing your form in a way that makes you feel something you aren't used to, "Your eyes." The blonde grins, and you both know that you were expecting her to say something far dirtier. "I like them. Like the colour."

It's a flat compliment; you know it as well as she does. "Thanks. You can thank my dad for the colour."

"Mm, got it from your dad, huh? What you get from your mom?" She leans in a little closer, "Anything specific?"

"Uh—" You fluster yourself further, "Uh… my, uh, hair colour?"

Her smile falters slightly at your response—or lack thereof—but she quickly recovers, "It's a nice colour. Rich. Something I could tangle my fingers in."

You almost trip over your own feet when she leans in a little closer to your proximity, "Oh, uh!" You catch yourself on the fence beside you, trying to play it off like you tripped over a rock. "Uh, wow, uh, t-thank you?" A nervous laugh escapes your lips, "I, uh, wash it regularly?"

Nat rolls her eyes at your continued failure to return her flirtations, even by the smallest amount but keeps pushing regardless. "What's your shampoo smell like?" She leans into your personal space, your breath catching at the sudden proximity. "Mm." You can hear her inhale, your heart caught in your throat, "I like it. Very… you."

You start walking a little faster down the sidewalk, mumbling out something you hope is similar to a sound of appreciation at the comment, face burning something fierce. 

"Princess." Nat drawls with a low chuckle, "Don't act all shy on me now. What happened to the lady who was yellin' at me for 'ignoring' her, huh?" Another chuckle follows her words, and she takes some hurried steps to catch up with you. "Not ignoring you now, am I?"

"No, you aren't, uh, ignoring me anymore. That's, uh, for sure." You nervously rub at your arm, feeling increasingly flustered as the conversation continues. "And I, uh, appreciate you walking me home?"

A frustrated exhale escapes Nat, and she pulls back with a huff, murmuring something under her breath that you can't quite make out.

Admittedly, you feel a little bad that you don't—can't—return her flirting. But she stops her flirting at your apparent reluctance and leans away from you, hands back in her pockets. "Yeah, anytime." She grumbles out, causing you to sink further into yourself at the upset that laces her tone. 

The following five minutes are spent in relative silence, the atmosphere far too uncomfortable for your liking.

You're almost relieved when your house comes into view, giving you an excuse to break the tension in the air. You point at your home, a simple brown duplex nestled beside houses that all look exactly the same. It's the type of house that lower-middle-class families would reside in.

"That's me." As you continue approaching the house, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, you say, "I, uh, I really appreciate you walking me home, Nat." Even if it got really awkward and uncomfortable halfway through, "You didn't have to. Especially this time of night."

Nat waves her hand dismissively, stopping at the edge of your driveway. "Don't mention it. Can't let a pretty girl walk alone at this time of night, yeah?" She shoots you a toothy grin, "Always need protection."

You roll your eyes at the comment and shove playfully at her shoulder, "Whatever, Burnout. Just know I appreciate it."

She gives you a grin and a nod, standing there with her hands in her pockets, staring at you like she's expecting something. "Anytime. And, for the record, I provide other services than just security." Nat leans in, a faint twitch of her eyes as she moves further into your vicinity.

With a strained, nervous laugh, you take a step back and hold up your house key, "We will have to… talk about that another time! Gotta… gotta get inside! Parents, curfew, all that fun stuff. Haha! Thanks again!"

You turn around and briskly walk up the driveway, and when you reach the door, you see Nat still standing there out of the corner of your eye. Hesitation seizes your form momentarily at her continued gaze, and for a moment, you almost debate—

Nat lets out a huff, turns, and walks off in a different direction. She fishes a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, grumbling something unintelligible.

Watching her walk off a moment longer, you feel regret starting to tug at the back of your head, so you quickly slide the key into the lock and open the door with a shaky breath, heart beating a little too quickly for your liking.

When you push into your house, the living room is dark, and your parents have already gone to bed. As you discard your coat and shoes by the door, you let that feeling of regret wash over you. Should you have said something? Invited her in? Said goodnight? Hugged her? Kissed her?

Fuck.

Relationships are complicated, and you two still barely know each other. You can't help that you want to know her. You want to see behind those fucking walls. You want to see through the cracks in her mask.

You think you want Natalie Scatorccio.

That isn't a surprise, not really, but the way your brain accepts the thought is.

Holy shit, you want Natalie Scatorccio.

Well. Isn't that an interesting development?

a/n: does anyone actually read the notes I leave? i could be plotting world domination or confessing to heinous crimes in here. anyways I regularly think about how natalie saw misty while she was tripping on lsd in the pilot and then misty ended up killing her. wild. bro had a fucking 25 year early premonition

[zyonicorn]

Sea, Beach & Her

“Babe!! It’s the beach!!!” after so long, the two of you are finally on a trip to Hawaii with your girlfriend, Jihyo. You know she's very outgoing and she loves the outdoors, that's why you booked your destination as Hawaii.

“Let’s go and take a look. Did you bring your swimsuit?” you asked her as her eyes sparkled. “Of course!! Are you changing?” you didn't plan to, but as Jihyo asked, all you could do is to say yes.

It was not a holiday so there were only a few people on the beach, no one in the changing room. You and your girlfriend entered a different room, hearing her taking off her overalls, and putting on her swimsuit as you heard the strap hitting her skin. You put on your swimsuit as fast as possible, then leave the room and take the bags for your girlfriend, so she can enjoy herself right after.

She walked out in her swimsuit- brown based, with the patterns of green flowers on it. Her cleavage showing, chest round and full, her body muscles perfectly shaped, abs showing the result of her workouts, every part of her was flawless.

“Let’s go baby!” she said and ran out of the changing room in her slippers, you followed her immediately.

She ran under the sun, the light reflecting her defined lines, you hid under the shadow and looked at your girlfriend having fun. “You’re not coming?” she asked from far away. You shook your head, but seeing the disappointment on your girlfriend’s face, you still walked to her and grabbed her waist, enjoying the moment.

“I haven’t put on my sunscreen yet. Would you like to help me?” she asked while looking at you, grabbing your waist this time.

You thought it was normal, so you nodded without hesitation. “Let’s get behind those rocks. I need to get my boob covered too.” sure it may look weird if you’re putting sunscreen on your girl’s chest, so you agreed and found a big rock to hide behind.

You took the bottle of sunscreen and squeezed some on your hand, started to apply it to Jihyo’s back who was lying on the sheet under the shade. Feeling her muscles, you couldn’t help but touch her skin more, it was so smooth and you felt her temperature.

“When are you finishing babe” She seemed to notice your behavior. “Oops, sorry, please turn around,” you asked Jihyo.

She turned and faced you now, her chest spreading naturally, you couldn't control it and stared. “Like my chest so much don’t you?” she teased. “Well you got to touch them today,” she said and led your hand with sunscreen to her boobs. You blushed, Jihyo knew everything. You applied the sunscreen on the upper part of her boobs and her collarbone. “It's not fully covered,” your girlfriend says. Before you could understand what she said, she took your hand and put it under her swimsuit, feeling her nipple and warm soft chest. You gasped from her being unusually attentive.

You spread the sunscreen on her breasts, trying to act like it's nothing, but your red cheeks betray you. The Hmphs she made (intentionally) are somehow turning you on, which she noticed. “Do you want me to help you too?” she asked. Although you know she might do something weird, for example touching your sensitive areas to tease, you still nod. She sat up and you’re the one lying down now, feeling her temperature on the sheet, also on her hands. 

She helped you with your front first, applying the sunscreen on your neck, collarbone, chest, stomach, thigh, every inch she could reach. Moving her hands from the upper body to your waist, then to your inner thigh, she hit your pussy with the side of her hand intentionally. You hissed from the sensation it brought, until she started to slowly draw small circles on your inner thigh. The atmosphere changed in the blink of an eye, you blushed and squinted your eyes, warning her if she did anything more than that. “I thought you were enjoying it” she smirked. 

“We are in public, Jihyo! People might walk past and see whatever we’re doing-” she cut you off before you could finish, leaning towards you for a kiss. “And that's the interesting part.” her hand moved from your thigh to your clit, slightly poking out from the fabric. “You fucking like it” She smiled into your mouth, eyes closed, forehead brushing on yours, starting to slowly rub on your clit. 

“Hmph someone will see us” You tried to stop her by pushing her shoulders away, but damn her workouts were worth it, she was strong enough to press you underneath. 

Her voice was steady and soft, “People won’t know as long as you’re quiet and obedient” “It has been a while isn’t it?” She stopped before continuing, checking your reaction. “And only if you fuck me well here, I might let you save your strength for walking.” She said.

Jihyo took off the underwear that you'd just put on in the changing room a little while ago, circling your hard, slippery clit. Without edging for longer, she put one finger in and started thrusting, not giving you time to adjust.

“Hmph aghh hmmm” You covered your mouth with the back of your palm, the mixture of pain and pleasure washing over your body.

“W-wait Jihyo” You wanted to stop her because you still didn't think it was suitable to have sex here, and also because it hurt so much after a long time. 

“What?” she asked. You hesitated, “I-it hurts..” “And I still think we shouldn't be doing it here.” she stopped her thrust and listened to your soft voice carefully. 

“But you’re so wet already, clenching me so hard with your tight pussy… Are you sure you want me to stop?” the bottom of your mind wanted her to keep going, yet the situation is not giving you a chance to think.

She pulled out her finger, ready to stand up and pack. “No- no I mean.. Finish this first..” you said out of frustration, stretching your cunt open with two fingers, showing your pussy to Jihyo fully, signaling her to put her finger back into your hole, which is throbbing from the sudden emptiness.

“Oh so now you want to be fucked?” she smirked and looked at you from above. “You know what to do.”

“P-please..” You faintly breathed. Jihyo always asks you to beg her in bed, ‘training’ you to beg even without her asking now.

“Yes sweetie,” she said and plugged two fingers in this time, immediately started moving them in and out.

“Agh emmmm” you bit on your finger and another hand clenched onto the sheet below. Her voice steady and soft, her juice oozing out of her pussy. “Feeling good?” “Hmph so good..” you have to keep your volume down, but each hit brings you more and more pleasure. 

You felt your organism building up in your stomach, and your heart felt like it was twisted, raising your feet and clamping the hand below uncontrollably. “Baby I- I’m so close- Agh” you moaned into your hand as the woman kept crashing her fingers into your flesh. 

“I want to hear you say my name, love” Her smile or pride enlarges as she sees you tensing up, curling her fingers just to hit your spot more delicately.

“J-jihyo please please hmph” You held your breath as you felt your release, “Breath baby,” she said as she pulled out her finger with a Pop sound. 

“Agh” you breathed out hard and lost strength, hands on your face collapsing onto the sheet, you panted slowly as you noticed Jihyo’s gaze, pouting and seems to be signaling you something.

You looked at her and asked, “Do you want me to do it too, Jihyo?” 

“Yes please!” she sounded like a child somehow, you melt at her tone.

You sit up as she kneels next to you, one hand on the back of her head, another in her smooth soft hair, pulling her for a kiss.

“We will do it slowly, cuz you know you make a lot of noise,” you teased between kisses. You moved the hand in her hair down, resting on her chest as you felt her heat through the swimsuit. You sneaked under her loosened fabric, and the strap fell off her shoulder, making her look messy and horny.

“Mm” her low moans breathed into your mouth as you flicked her nipples, occasionally squeezing the boobs. So soft and warm, you kissed her harder to stop her moans, but it turned out louder. “Shh-” You pulled away just enough to see her eyes, her breath a few centimeters away. You crashed your lips onto her’s again. You don’t know if you're sweating because of the hot weather or Jihyo.

Her hand reached for yours on her neck, guiding it to her crotch. “That's it, fuck me” she sounded out of breath, almost commanding. “Stay quiet” you whispered. She nodded obediently like a puppy, eyes shining, all innocent and cute. 

You started by rubbing her clit with your middle finger through her cloth, feeling its hotness and her weak whimpers every time you circle. Jihyo hisses from the sensation. 

“Mmm,” she whined softly and pushed your hand further, feeling the coldness on your finger, moist and erotic. 

“Can I?” You asked. “Emmm” she started to grind on your finger in response. 

“So eager and needy” you whispered into her ears. Face to face, a few inches away, you felt her hot breath on your skin, her scent making you so dizzy that you almost forgot that you were in public.

You pushed the fabric covering her pussy to the side, feeling her skin- so wet and hot, you teased around the entrance. To your surprise, she pushed herself onto your finger, basically sat on it. 

You smirked at her eagerness, starting to thrust your finger in and out, soon adding one more. “K-kiss me” Jihyo’s voice shaky, leaning closer that her upper lip brushed through yours. Her breath seems to be leading your red lips, you kiss her without hesitation. Sloppy, open-mouthed, that’s how you describe it. As you thrust harder, hitting her g-spot intentionally, she moaned into your mouth, her kiss getting hungrier.

Her voice is getting louder, along with the wet sound and the waves, you break the kiss as a string of saliva connects the two of you.

You stopped your thrust, holding your fingers in and occasionally brushing her g-spot, but slow enough to hang her on the edge, your thumb drew circles on her hard clit slowly.

“Plea-please baby please I'm so close-” she begged, her voice soft and lovely, making you melt. “But I told you to stay quiet,” “I-I’m sorry baby I will stay quiet from now on- hmph” She started to ride your fingers, moving with her hands on your shoulder, her boobs bouncing in her swimsuit. 

“Slut.” you said as you pulled out your hand, holding her waist and signaling her to turn around. She’s now kneeling on the sheets, her elbows supporting her weight, which would definitely leave bruises later. 

You licked the dripping juice on your fingers, then shove them right back into Jihyo’s wet cunt. Her flesh immediately wrapped around your joint, slick leaking out as she clenched hard. She frowned, you looked at her from the side and started to thrust your fingers.

Her silent screams as you sped up makes you proud. It has always been Jihyo satisfying your needs, and now you get to handle everything.

Your slick oozing out of your own pussy, seeing Jihyo’s lewd and needy expression, you fingered yourself while working in Jihyo’s wet cunt. You bit onto your lower lips, enjoying the pleasure your fingers brought for yourself and Jihyo.

“Hmph” she uncontrollably whined. You heard that and decided to stop her. Taking the fingers on your pussy, you shove them in Jihyo’s mouth, forcing her to lick and suck your juice.

“I told you to shut up.” You tried to keep your voice steady, Jihyo tasted your water and sucked on it like she was having a delicious meal. “Almost there” she breathed out, barely audible. “Please”

“Shh,” You said and turned her over, now she’s facing up. You backed up and put your tongue on her swollen pussy. Angle up your fingers, and hitting her g-spot as she clenched harder, her cunt wetter and hotter, you heard her quiet moans.

The tip of your tongue flicked on her clit, sucking her juicy folds forcefully, earning a moan from Jihyo. You got up, lips covered with her slick and your saliva from the sloppy kisses. “Shut up or I’ll stop” You pushed your arm again and again, each hit harder than before, and every time your palm hit her wet pussy made a lewd sound. 

Jihyo’s fist clenched on the sheet below, her other hand covering her mouth as hard as possible, trying to stop her sound. “Hmph em agh hmph-” she shut her eyes, a drop of tear rolled down the corner of her big eye, her hand not covering her moans well.

“Noisy” you smirked and whispered, “Cum for me” 

“Ahh hmph” she held her breath, soon started panting as she released her hand, her cunt clenched onto your fingers trying to pull you back in.

“Phew- that was awesome baby,” she said, voice shaky.

You didn't give her any time to rest, but grind your erected clit on her thigh. “Again” your voice soft, begging for more. She smiled, shooting her gaze into your needy eyes. “I thought you wanted to end this as soon as possible” “Don't you hate it in public?”

“I don't care, fuck me,” you said and leaned down, kissing Jihyo while grinding. Glad that no one found out until then two of you finished, from afternoon till dawn.

——————————————————————

Ik it's short and low quality am sry 🙏

[thistlerock]

Collection of headcanons not elaborate enough for own word vomit post:

- I don't think Kristen can swim. She has the vibes of someone who never learned as a kid and now it's too late to bring up without being embarrassed. (Also I thought about what would happen if she fell in water — mechanically she's wearing heavy armor, would Brennan just let her swim since she's in universe only in a tracksuit or would she sink without a sufficient strength check? Idk, but that's how I got to the no swimming conclusion.)

- insanely weird hc to have but i think Fabian shaves his arm hair. Also like legs and arm pits i guess but the way more unusual and therefore notable thing is arms. This guy kills any body and facial hair on sight. Like no one has ever seen him with as much as stubble outside of Cathilda or the Bad Kids when they were sleeping over. Why? Idk he just prefers that, no deeper reason. I do think elves generally have less body hair but here his human genes come through so he has to shave. Or get it lasered away I guess. You can do that right?? He's rich. Maybe he'd do it.

- also Fabian's depth perception is dog shit. Using his crossbow is less impressive because Fandrangor is simply a better weapon and his flourishes and manoeuvres rely on melee combat, I know, but to me it's also just that he's better at hitting things real close to him.

- Riz is the kinda guy to have chronic migraines and think it's fine. "Everyone has headaches sometimes and I do sleep a lot less than I should ahaha" (the amount of coffee he drinks is barely saving him from the horrors.)

- Adaine also gets a lot of migraines in what I think are more. Passive non specific visions? Like a gut feeling that's always correct and also makes her body hate her. The proper visions are comparable to absence seizures I think? Like I don't wanna say it's that because it's magic but the process is kind of the same in the sense that she's out for like ten to thirty seconds and it can really suck

- I also think Adaine has synaesthesia! I can't really put this into words well so I'm not even gonna try, but she perceives certain sounds and/or colours at times where there shouldn't be sounds and/or colours. I think those associations also to an extend help in drawing connections between less specific visions and real life.

- we know Gorgug has a drumset in his room I think it's electronic. But like not in a normal way like we have them irl it's some insane artificer shit that would justify so much more noise complaints than a regular one and also could probably have its own pyrotechnics idfk. It's fully a safety hazard but it doesn't even rank on the top 10 of worst things to have in your house that is a TREE that the Thistlesprings casually own.

- I think either Fig or Kristen would be the shortest medium creature type Bad Kid. Like obviously Riz is four feet tall max but he's in a whole different category lmao

- Fig sometimes puts little braids in Jawbone's fur and he happily lets her. He only properly adopted Adaine and Fig has more than enough dads, but he does still act as sort of a paternal figure to her (and every other kid ((which in this case includes Ragh but maybe not Aelwyn)) in mordred manor because he's just a caring guy and it's hard not to grow attached) so that's their pseudo daddy-daughter bonding

- Fabian doesn't like, hate Gilear as much as he used to? Like he still has his moments but overall he thinks he's a good guy and absolutely has the "well I can shit on him but I'm gonna kill this other guy who did. How dare you make fun of my Mama's beloved??" mindset. But uhm he tries to make Gilear work out with him so he can "stop being death fodder". Gilear is a commoner and everyone else in Seacaster Manor absolutely is not and like he likes it and he loves these people but he does kind of live in hell. His wife? Could kill him. His step son? Could kill him. The maid? Could kill him. The dog slash motor cycle?? Could kill him. One hit. Also the entire current Seacaster household are dexterity based fighters they're all so graceful and skilled he's fully just a guy that spills every drink ever on himself

- I think the Hangman loves Cathilda because she gives good chin scritchies (hound form obviously lol) Generally he tends to mirror Fabian's attitude towards people anyway so he's always liked her, but once he started being a hound more she started petting him and giving him treats and he is smitten

- Gorgug (and sometimes Ragh or Ayda) play extreme fetch with the Hangman. Like I need to stress that he's not just a big dog he's large enough to be a mount, which means he'd have to be the size of a horse. Maybe a small horse sure but that's still a horse-sized dog. I think his mini looks fairly big but in my heart he's bigger. So yeah fetch with him (which they mainly do because they want him to feel comfortable in both forms because he's so good) is really big sticks. Like not logs or anything but sticks the average person can't huck all that far. Fabian casts enhance ability on himself so he can also do it, lol. The wonders of multiclassing into bard.

- I think the only Bad Kids who never use makeup are Riz and Kristen. Gorgug doesn't do it every day and not that much but he uses eyeliner sometimes. Fig's makeup is the most noticeable and usually very fun.

- Gorgug has kissed Ragh at least twice. So at least one time after the prom thing. I don't mean this in a ship way I mean this in I look at Gorgug and then I look at Ragh and I go yeah these guys have shared at least one tender bro kiss. I mean I think Gorgug is the kinda guy that would kiss all of his friends if they wanted to because it's not that big of a deal to him and he loves them but not everyone is comfortable w/ that lol. He and Kristen kiss each other on the cheek though, I think (this does not mean he wants to see her naked in public please put your clothes back on Kristen??)

[ghostprince]

well it only took uh. like. 5 days. but I FINALLY got my designs for Maxie and Archie done!! I initially just meant to draw over their official art to warm up, and then... I kept drawing so I just committed to it. whoops.

I wanted to do versions of them for the headcanon setting that @brannwen and I have! Featuring some slight tweaks to their ORAS outfits ( @endiecutieo6's lovely designs inspired most of them!! <3)

Headcanon rambling and design notes under the readmore:

Story/character headcanons:

(Overall, this setting is a weird mix of ORAS and Emerald. In simple terms, it's ORAS's characterization with Emerald's plotline)

Maxie is a trans man, and gay. Archie is a cis gay man.

Maxie is from Fallarbor Town, while Archie is from Lilycove. Maxie's family is fully Hoennian, while one side of Archie's family is from Alola. (He grew up visiting Alola yearly to stay with family there. He hasn't gone back to see them in a loooong time though, especially uh. after... gestures. all the kyogre and groudon shit)

They met after they both joined the Hoenn Pokemon Rangers in their 20s, and became best friends despite their differing personalities. Their mutual interest in the environment was an easy way for them to bond, even if they had different specific focuses

The major rift between them started when Archie confessed his love to Maxie, who rejected him. (Out of fear of being outed as trans, specifically. He was also in love with Archie, but was too afraid of what would happen if Archie found out about him being trans. the answer is he wouldn't have cared, u idiot)

When Groudon and Kyogre were awoken and underwent Primal Reversion, they possessed Maxie and Archie, causing the two to try and murder each other in Sootopolis City.

After Rayquaza quelled the fighting Legendaries, Maxie and Archie were left irreversibly changed -- neither human or Pokemon, with instincts and powers of the Legendaries that "blessed" them.

They spent a handful of months avoiding each other as much as they could (outside of the Delta Episode shit happening), until Maxie couldn't stand it anymore and went to visit Archie in Lilycove. While there, they realized that oddly enough, proximity to each other seemed to curb the surges of power (and irritability) they'd both been experiencing. Maxie hypothesized that it's due to the Red and Blue Orbs being able to calm the opposite Legendaries.

Maxie ends up visiting again after that, and. well. one thing led to another and they ended up confessing their feelings for each other and deciding to merge their teams to try and do Actual Good for the region. (keyword being try. they're doing their best, man)

May is basically their unofficially adopted daughter. Both of them think they don't deserve her forgiveness (she lost her parents in the natural disasters that the Legendaries caused) but she forgives them anyway, as long as they promise to try and Be Better. (Officially/Legally, May's been adopted by Steven and Wallace, who are only letting Maxie and Archie go without legal punishment because of May. also no prison could hold two people with legendary powers lmao)

May ended up in a similar situation re: Legendary powers, as Rayquaza offered her its power (either during the climax of the ORAS plot, or during the Delta Episode, haven't decided yet) and she accepted. While she doesn't regret her decision, it has made her feel even more aliened from other kids her age. Maxie and Archie have beef with Rayquaza over this, and they're particularly protective of May because they understand the struggle of being Less Than Human now.

Maxie's team consists of Camerupt (Igneous), Crobat (Travertine), Mightyena (Obsidian), Flygon (Arkose), Torkoal (Basalt), and Claydol (Shale)

Archie's team consists of Sharpedo (Styx), Crobat (Dango), Mightyena (Fang), Lanturn (Flicker), Kingdra (Admiral), and Dhelmise (Keelhaul)

Design/Legendary powers notes:

High emotions result in their markings (the black/blue lines on Maxie, and the red lines on Archie) to appear and start glowing. Especially high emotions/surges of instinct cause their eyes to change as well. Otherwise, they just have the "base" features shown in the post-game art.

If their power/instincts are particularly high/strong, they can start to become less lucid and more feral. It usually doesn't last long, and typically the other can snap the other out of it.

They've only been in their Primal forms when Groudon and Kyogre were, and were not in control of themselves at all during it. Both of them hope they never have to go through that again.

Weather affects them, with Maxie becoming lethargic and cranky if it's raining, and Archie drying out and losing energy if the weather is particularly hot and dry

Conversely, they are much more energetic during weather that "matches" them. Maxie LOVES it when it's super hot and sunny, and Archie practically bounces off the walls when it's raining/storming

To some extent, they can control the weather. Archie's been known to summon storms if he's particularly upset about something, for example

Prior to gaining the Legendary powers, Maxie ran cold (hence the 5 zillion layers of his Magma Leader outfit) and Archie ran hot. Now, it's the opposite, with Maxie's body temperature being very warm (and he has to consciously keep it from getting too hot, or else he risks melting things he touches), and Archie's being very cold. It doesn't bother them (they barely feel it), but physical contact between the two of them feels very good nonetheless.

Maxie's Mega Glasses were broken while Groudon had control over him, so he has new glasses post-game.

Maxie's post-game outfit is semi-based on his original RSE outfit, and it's specifically made so the slits at the side allow his tail easy movement despite him wearing a coat. He also specifically avoids wearing anything with the Team Magma emblem these days.

Archie's post-game outfit is basically just his RSE outfit, though he still likes wearing his wetsuit (after modifying it to accommodate his tail), and refuses to stop wearing his bandana, even though it has the Team Aqua emblem on it.

Archie got the facial X tattoo, and start filing his teeth to be sharp, after leaving the Rangers. He did it to match with his Sharpedo, Styx.

The scars on Archie's left arm are from wrestling with Styx.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[anyamaris]

Title: Lockdown

Word Count: 2698

Summary: Your first night in solitary confinement isn't so solitary...

Pairing: Prison Warden!Yunho x F!Inmate!Reader

Trope/Au: Non idol AU/Smut

Warnings: Adult language, definite power imbalance here so be warned, reader is a bit of a slut, oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, pet names, degradation, use of a baton, heavy on the caution side because this can be construed as coercive, but reader is into it and fully on board. NSFW 18+ as always. Just a feral mess.

A/N: Omg this would NOT exist without @sanjoongie and @pars-ley cheering me on, beta reading (it was a mess, I know) and being overall the most supportive bitches ever. I love you both.

This was definitely a feral thought born of those fucking pics of him. Stupid Yunho and Aries season. (I love him.)

The door to the cell closes with a resounding echo, the jingle of metal keys snapping the lock into place.

The heavy thud of footsteps walking away slowly fades as you roll your eyes at the small, square solitary cell.

You turn and let out a sigh as you flop down on the tiny cot, the thin mattress not giving you much comfort.

“At least I can get some fucking sleep,” you murmur, resting your forearm over your eyes.

Your mind drifts, as you realize the uneasy feeling of someone watching you, for once is gone.  

Since you’d been locked up here, the creeping sense of being watched has become increasingly disturbing.  

Between the soft breathing at night, a shadow lurking just out of sight of the bars of your cell, and the way there always seems to be someone watching you shower.

Probably just me being on edge, being in here.

The other women were always a pain in the ass to deal with but none of them gave you the impression that they were interested in that kind of way.

Well, outside of being complete cunts constantly  harassing you.

You smirk, savoring the memory of one of your fellow inmates' faces when you’d jammed your fork into her hand as she’d attempted to grab your food.

Totally worth ending up here.

You turn and curl up, a smug smile adorning your face as you attempt to get some sleep.

The buzzing sound of doors opening and closing have long since ceased to disturb you, but the slight jingle of metal keys awaken you from your drifting.

You have no way of knowing what time it is without having a window. It could be day or night, but it did feel like you’d gotten at least some sleep for once.

The heavy, clunky sound of the latch draws your attention, and you wonder if it’s time for your meal.

For a moment nothing happens and you wait, glancing at the small window of the door to see the outline of someone there.

It can only be a guard, you think, turning away to ignore them.

After a moment, the door slowly swings open, then swings closed with a loud thunk.  

I suppose they dropped off food-

The sound of breathing raises the hairs on your neck, quickly grasping the fact  that someone’s inside the cell with you.

That familiar sense of dread washes over you as you freeze on the cot, unable to turn over and face the source of your lurking watcher.

A heavy step echoes through the barren cell, then another and you tense with each one.

You are as far from a wilting lily as they come, and not much spooks you but the creeping trepidation that washes over you causes you to tremble like a newborn fawn.

Bitch, turn your ass over, get a grip, you berate yourself.

It takes much more effort than you’ll ever admit to finally force yourself up and out of the cot, your eyes flicking around to settle on the looming dark figure currently hovering over you. 

The outline of the man (you can only assume it’s a man) is imposing and tall, but the darkness within the cell doesn’t allow much room for any further observation.

“The fuck-?” You blurt out as he just stands there.

Maybe I’m having some kind of weird dream-

His ragged breaths increase as he steps forward once more, his proximity forcing you to take a step back.

A soft, taunting laugh raises the hairs on your body.

“Listen, asshole, I don’t know who you think you are but-”

“But…what?” 

His voice is soft and low, whispering over your senses like snaking fingers curling around your mind.

Just those two words are enough to have you devolving into a confused mess, and the lack of sight is only heightening your other senses.

You find yourself rubbing your arms as you wrap them around yourself, as if you can provide warmth to chase away these sensations.

The prolonged silence between you only enhances the feeling of the walls closing in around you, growing ever closer to suffocating you.

“What do you want?” you finally manage, curse inwardly at how your voice shakes.

For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to answer, but then he steps forward one more time, mere inches from you now.

The immense pressure of his presence causes you to back up, and your knees connect with the cot behind you. You force your arms out in surprise to catch yourself but before your ass can plant onto the hard bed, strong hands are gripping you under your armpits and hoisting you up and against him.

“What do I want…” his voice crawls along inside your ears and for some reason, the sensation of his breath tickling your neck as he leans in causes you to clench.

The fuck is wrong with me, you think.

Before you can process your own fucked up sexual frustrations, he’s laughing softly as his hands slip down to your waist, then around you to cup your ass and yank you against him. 

“What is it I want….” he repeats, as if the thought has only just occurred to him.

Jesus he has big hands, wow.

Godamnit, don’t get horny from this, you fucking slut.

You gasp as his obvious arousal hardens against your lower abdomen, and a soft groan leaves his throat.

His lips brush the shell of your ear and you can feel them curl into a smile as your breath hitches.

“Would you like me to show you what it is I want?”

Suddenly the lights snap back on, and the sudden brightness blinds you for a moment before you can adjust.

Your gaze darts up to finally set eyes on your mysterious stalker and your mouth goes dry at the sight before you.

His dark eyes are huge, and you can’t tell if they are just that black or if his pupils have taken over his entire iris.

His cherry lips curve as your eyes flick over his features as you finally realize who it is that’s currently pushing his cock against you and pawing your body.

Jeong Yunho, the warden of this prison.

You’d met him briefly during one of the inspections of your cell early on, and you remember eye fucking him quite openly.

His dark hair hangs in his face under his cap, and you curse at yourself for the wanton little moan you let out as you study him.

“Answer me.” He commands, his smirk twisting into a snarl as he hoists you up even tighter up against him, your feet leaving the ground and forcing you to grab ahold of his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Yes-I mean, no! No, I-”  

“Good girl.” He whispers, pushing your back against the wall.

You can’t even form words as he drops you onto your feet and grips your hips, turning you around and shoving your face into the cold stone.

“Spread.” 

“Fuck off-”

“Ah, there’s that mouth.” He rasps out, pushing his leg between your thighs.

“Asshole, I swear-”

“What are you going to do? Don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself.” 

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, using one hand to hold you in place. 

A sudden, soft rustling alerts you a moment before a hard object is forced between your legs and he uses it to pry them open as he kicks your feet further apart.

You hiss at his words, knowing how true they are and hating that he’s right.

“I’ve seen what you like to do to my guards when you think no one's looking…you’re a filthy little girl, aren’t you?”

He taps the baton up against your crotch and you yelp at the sudden sensation.

“Where’s that charisma now, baby girl? The one that has all my men on their knees for you?”

You whimper as he rubs the baton against your cunt, and you clench once more, as he taps it against you again.

“Nothing to say when you’re faced with someone who won’t eat up your bullshit, hmm?”

Your head swims from the excitement of it all and you can’t argue with any of his statements.

You buck back against him, grinding against the thick bulge in his pants with your ass.

“You just need someone to put you in your place, don’t you? To treat you like the little brat you are?”

His teeth nip your earlobe as he extracts the baton from between your legs and tosses it to the side.

“Please-” You whimper, turning your head to look up at him as you grind back against him.

His smirk only heightens your need.

“Please, what? Use your words. Please, stop? Please, don’t?” He laughs as he grabs your throat and uses his thumb to rub your lower lip, “Please, punish you?”

Your eyes roll closed and he snickers as you shudder at his words.

“Say it.” 

“P-please…”

His long fingers curl around your neck and he forces his thumb into your mouth as he grinds against your ass.

“Finish your sentence.” He commands.

“Please use me, please punish me-” you beg around his thumb, sucking gently on it before he’s pressing your tongue down.

“See? You can behave, can’t you?”

He withdraws his hand from your neck and mouth, bringing his thumb to his lips to suck on it before he steps back from you.  

Your disappointed whine has him snickering as he starts unbuckling his belt.

“Hands on the wall.”

Your eager cuntclenches at the command, the sight of him unbuckling his pants making you tremble and want to obey.

You look over your shoulder at him as he slips the belt from the loops on his pants, his eyes raking over you.  

He steps forward, unbuttoning his pants and smirking as your eyes follow his movements.

“Turn around and get on your knees.”

As much as you want to say something smart, you find yourself immediately obeying, looking up at his long fingers as he unzips his pants and pulls out his half erect dick.

Your mouth waters at the size of him, eyes widening as you lick your lips.

“I didn’t expect such obedience right away. I’m impressed.” He says, stepping forward and tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.

You immediately reach for him, eager to stroke him and feel the way his skin stretches as you do so, but he tuts and swats your hands away.

“Hands off. Open your mouth.” 

You give in to the sudden urge to defy him, pressing your lips together but he grabs your hair, his long fingers tangling in it, and yanks your head back.  

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He growls as he presses the tip against the seam of your lips.

His rough tone has you giving in, eagerly opening your mouth to him as he stares down at you with a smirk.

You are so used to being the one on the other side of this dynamic that it makes you dizzy from the role reversal.

You stick out your tongue, and he slaps the underside of his cockhead against your tongue as he strokes himself.

“Good girl…that’s more like it…”

As much as you want to hate it, his praise only makes you more keen to please him.

You attempt to wrap your lips around him, but he pulls back with a sadistic little grin.

“Ah ah ah…you need to learn some patience, don’t you?” 

You pout, but this only earns you a sharp tug on your hair, and you moan at the pain and pleasure of it.

“Answer.”

“Yes-yes! I need to be patient.” You reply, staring at his now fully erect cock, the little bead of precum leaking from his slit beckons to you.

“How in the world did you manage to turn my guards into simping little shits, hm? Look at you, on your knees begging for a taste.”

He finally relents and you wrap your lips around him as he gently guides your mouth onto his cock. 

A soft hiss leaves his lips as you eagerly suck, your tongue rolling around on the sensitive spot right below the head.  

“Ahh…good girl…just like that…” he whispers, his fingers withdrawing from your hair to pet you.

Your stare is locked onto him, watching how his dark eyes gleam with pleasure as you work your mouth down and around his length.

His hips move slowly, his hand on the back of your head guiding you but not forcing you. The wet sounds of your mouth on him echo in the small space.

Your hands come up to touch him but immediately, he pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lip to his tip.

You whine at the sudden movement and he glares at you.

“What did I say? No hands.” he scolds.

Putting your hands behind your back quickly, you show him your compliance.

“Ah…you’re trying, sweetheart. That’s a good first step.” He coos, as he guides your mouth back onto him.

His soft moans encourage you as you bob your head on his cock, and his hips stutter as your tongue works along the underside.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well…how much can you handle, sweetheart?” he asks, thrusting forward suddenly until he hits the back of your throat.

You feel your panties soak through at the moan that comes from him, deep and ragged, even as you gag on him.

It takes everything not to grab his ass and pull him into your mouth or cup his balls to urge him to cum quickly.

Yet the denial only makes you work harder with your mouth and tongue.

His long fingers dig into your scalp, cupping your head as he starts thrusting into your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart, gonna make me cum…you’re gonna-fuck!-swallow every drop, understand?”

You hum in agreement, and your eyes alight with glee as his hips start to stutter, his words cutting off with expletives the closer he gets.

“Such a fucking good girl, fuck, I’m gonna cum-!” He growls out, his jaw clenched as he keeps his eyes locked on you.

Your throat starts working as you feel his dick begin to pulse in your mouth, and he thrusts forward one last time. Holding your head in place, his cum erupts and cascades down your throat.  

His grip loosens and he pulls back slightly, biting his lip as he watches you finish him off.

The tangy, salty fluid fills your mouth and you swallow greedily, your stomach twisting in a heated need while watching his face contort beautifully.

Fuck, this man is making you question everything. Your needy cunt clenches as you continue sucking until he pulls out of your mouth.

He pets your hair as he looks down at you, his breathing ragged.

“Open. Let me see.” He taps your cheek with his fingers and you obey.

“Good girl.” He hums, backing up to tuck his softening cock back into his pants, zipping and rebuttoning.

You protest once he starts buckling his belt, scooting forward on your knees.

“But-” you start then stop immediately as he tilts his head and leans down in front of you.

His dark eyes study you, while his fingers trace down the length of your cheek as he smirks. 

“Oh sweetheart…such a greedy little slut for me, already?”

He chuckles at your nod and grips your chin firmly as he presses a harsh kiss to your lips.

“This is only day one, my pet.  Perhaps I’ll come back tomorrow…if you’re good.”

And with that, he turns and leaves your cell without a glance back, the heavy door slamming shut with finality.

A sense of disappointment wars with the overwhelming desire for him to return and show you just what he has in store for you.

Making your way to your cot, your fingers coax out the orgasm that he’d been building in the pit of your abdomen before you fall asleep.

You’re determined to prove that you deserve that return visit.

You can’t wait to find out what tomorrow has in store.

[yuikomorii]

Do people actually think Yui looks like a child or do the diaboys ever say she looks underdeveloped? (Other than her chest) Because I've seen some fanfics where the boys say her body looks like that of a 12 year old/boy or fanarts where people draw her with a childlike body, and no I'm not talking about flat chested and petite, I mean to the point to where her body actually resembles a child, and it honestly just feels... weird? You can argue it's just their art style, but some of them are genuinely capable of drawing other female characters normally. There are ways to draw flat women without making them look young, and the way some of these people describe her body just feels so infantilizing. I mean she's 17-18, not 7

// If any Diaboy says that, it’s not serious, since I doubt they would genuinely date someone who looks like a child to begin with. As for fans, I fear some of them truly think so.

This might vary depending on the country, but I've never thought of Yui as particularly small. Her height seems average or close to it, and her overall build looks quite fit: neither too slim nor too curvy. I'm considered an A cup, and there’s no CG where she appears flatter than me, so I guess she must be above an A cup, and everything bigger than that is not even close to flat in my book.

I also find it odd when Yui is drawn in an overly childlike way compared to the Diaboys. I understand that some of them are really tall, but they’re definitely not twice her size, as some fan art makes it seem. Even standing next to someone like Ayato, who’s average or slightly above average height for a guy, she doesn’t look that petite.

On top of that, if you check other popular heroines drawn by Satoi in the 2010s, you’ll notice that Yui has more mature features, even if she’s younger than them. They truly are baby-faced (nothing wrong with that though).

The way Yui’s design and overall character are infantalized needs to be studied. Acting childish isn’t the same as looking like a child, and even if she behaves that way at times, it doesn’t make her as helpless as an infant incapable of distinguishing right from wrong or thinking for herself.

[sukunasun]

Do you ever plan to write a fic with a grumpy reader? Maybe with Getou or any chara of your choice?

screaming from the top of a building: grumpy readers are so relatable and deserve more nuance than being labelled as ice queens and stone-cold bitches! there is much more to unfold beyond the harsh exterior. how cantankerous and irritable you are but nonetheless meant to be understood and loved.

quietly, you lay there stowing away as a recluse. you love your books and your crochet hooks. working away and making the most of me-time. people don't draw near. instead, they try prodding with sticks and hurtling stones for a reaction hoping it's a smile or a nice conversation between two, but there is no gambling and taking chances. no risking it 'depending on your mood' because the weather report calls for sunny skies and yet, the storming grey cloud above your head stays looming. permanently brewing.

you claim it's just your face, your attitude, and overall unapproachable aura that inhibits you from making contacts and connections. an RBF that can't be cracked. "she's so intimidating," is a grating sound. you have long since given up on explaining yourself or waiting for the chance to when the backstory and lore is too revealing. not exactly dinner party talk. you wish it could be as easy as saying "im hurt and heartbroken beyond repair. mothering fear and angst without needing comfort." it feels nice, well-deserved even to wallow in dread.

there's bound to be disappointment from unmet expectations thus, you've stopped having them altogether. it feels better than accepting affection with open arms. so wrong, so weird to be wanted, to be chosen. where's the catch? when will the other shoe drop? the cycle of starting over becomes tiring, tedious—a mechanical performance. a complex creature who requires better coping mechanisms and a man who won't stab you in the back. friends who'd stop poking holes in the reasons when you say no, yet again, to meeting someone new in this state: when bricks are laid and piled high up in uniformed rows surrounding, it warrants avoiding all forms of showing and receiving love after the years spent shaping the architecture of your defences.

then there's geto. with his charm and wit and the way he pries the person from underneath facades and fabricated masks. your fragile, rocking foundations built on sand he topples down with a mere smile, hardened fortitudes he crushes to dust, weaving within hairline cracks and exploring the caverns of your heart like no one has before. all without much effort, or rather, he doesn't need to exert himself when you fall so willingly.

"why don't we do something else tonight, dinner and a movie?" he questions when you call again. right after work when the stress is at an all-time high and he's...well, you don't know what he does, but he makes himself available for you. he'll admit it's made him feel special being the only person let in, when everyone else has to scavenge for scraps, he's a privileged selected one. seen the glimpses of the warmth you possess when laid bare and sated.

such a skill he has to wring out the truth. still, you go on with the "i like being alone," answer. a mantra, a repetitive hymn to soothe the sting and sharp clawing against the chest til it no longer feels so. numb and sore aches it leaves behind. 'you'll regret it when you realize i'm too much for you,' stays clogged in your throat. he'd only admonish you for such thoughts. 'that's not true' he'd say, but you know better than to believe that.

"i get it," geto replies, feigning casualness when he's not a stranger to isolation and avoidant habits. sometimes he wished he wasn't exposed to a mirror of his own makeup. a paragon of performative indifference and detachment. "i'll leave when you want me to," he reassures you, but was that a wavering you hear in his voice? you don't dare assume because he makes things easy. not the kind to complicate, nor commit. say the word and he'd give you all the solitude you need. dodging the serious questions and serious labels. friend, boyfriend, guy-im-sleeping-with. he doesn't care for them because you don't.

maybe he's just referring to the task at hand, used to forgoing aftercare and post-orgasm cuddles for a late-night drive home. excluding that one time you allowed him a night on your couch. he won't stay if your hand comes up to his sweaty chest, pushing him away before he's had the chance to pull out and slide the worn condom off. it keeps him at a distance and he takes it as a sign that this is as far as intimacy goes—no kissing on the lips, no secrets and sweet nothings, your moans don't escape and neither do his plethora of dirty speeches, stifled and gritting in a tight-lipped prison—there is no room for it at all.

the last thing you need is to dispose whatever is left of an already flimsy resolve. becoming vulnerable and exposed to his rejection or the knee-jerk reaction when he touches you—when the strap of your dress falls at an angle, he instinctively chases after the smooth slope of shoulder with his lips, pressing soft kisses there and everywhere else simmering with anxiety, humming pleased and contented to taste the nerves slipping away, sinking his teeth in and feeling the flesh give to his possession—a longing that courses through and wrenches around your heart tight. you're so selfish to follow after his hands, to feel them feel you. they should be upon another but he grabs and gropes greedily like he can't wait any longer.

"or you could let me stay," he offers.

"the couch makes your back hurt," you reply.

"your bed is big enough for two," he counterclaims. doing what he does best. it's not the first time he's tried to hint at more, waiting for the opportune moment when you're putty in his hands, relenting to him.

"we can't," you gasp when he slips two fingers past your dripping folds. the smirk he wears hidden in the crook of your neck. "why–" you claw at his forearm tucked between your thighs, clenching around his limb for leverage while he makes you squirm and jolt with every nudge against your gspot. "–why me?" why an unpleasant, unfriendly, unwanted woman like you, haven't you suffered enough? why does he choose to torment you with his favour while seeking for yours. you remind yourself there's no place, no space for him here. you like the way things are no matter how painfully lonely it gets, you like the cool touch of your sheets and the emptiness your fingers trail over in the mornings. it's what you know, what you settled for. since when do two people meet and see each other for themselves, choosing to stay for long after the thinly veiled ugliness is stripped away. how do you tell him you're starting to grow accustomed. almost adoring. you've flown too close to the sun before, how do you deal with the fallout when you're inevitably lurched into the suffocating and slow descent towards earth?

in the last few seconds cresting upon your climax, suguru feels it building around the edges of your jittering limbs. head lolling back as you choke, fighting back your moans. your hips thrust in time, chasing after his fingers. he settles them as deep as he can, pumping fast and pressing down against your clit til it hurts, til the hard pressure causes your juices to drip down his fingers, squelching and making a mess.

fuck it, he knows it's the only time you'll have him this close so his arms brace you, supported by his strong chest, crushed by his biceps, suguru coaxes you, "i don't care how far you push me, or how much you pretend, i want you and i know you want me too—"

you shake your head, resisting, stop it, stop uncovering me. he talks of your lust as if some incontrovertible proof, you won't give in. with indefatigable, unwavering effort you set the record straight. "i don't like you like that," lying right as you're about to explode from pleasure, not the kind that feels like a firework, shooting silent and bursting forth, but you seize every muscle in his hold. choking on your breaths and feeling it tighten and coil in your stomach, in your toes, compact and revving, it releases like an engine. rolling and roiling so unyieldingly it makes your ears ring, suffocating you til your vision goes black, and a scream forces it way past your lips.

neither high-pitched nor guttural, it reverberates so soothingly, "im sorry!" you cry. for being this way, for using and tossing him aside, for wanting more. you sob with your head thrown back while suguru hums right against your ear. sounding pleased and pleasured with your admission.

slowing his fingers in time with your panting breaths, he questions "do you really think i wouldn't like you?" it's not the right time to do this but he can hardly bear it, he longs for truth, "do you not believe me?"

looking upon his face through half-lidded eyes, you see that interrogative spark in his expression, his arms never letting go. a tense anticipation takes shape. the air is thick with the scent of damp skin and something else—his shampoo, his cologne, you chase after it for more, pressed into his chest, it only takes one whiff to get a fill, the same way you cling to the corners of pillowcases and duvet covers for that little bit.

what has changed? he makes you act a fool, forlorn and fumbling around in the most fatuous ways. i want you he said so clearly. and it warms your being like never before. there is an urge to make excuses, accuse him for being in lust, he only said it in the heat of the moment, ensnared by a need for possession.

but there is no point in looking back.

"i believe you," you say, noses bumping and slotting close when your lips betray your better judgement, or rather, your unfavourable one. "i'll try." is the best you can offer.

[novasintheroom]

050. Impress

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash catches you drawing in your journal.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

It’s a hobby, you tell yourself. Plenty of people do it.

In the shade of the overhang, you glance over your book and scratch a few more lines down the page. A curve here, some dots there. You bite your tongue gently. It’s getting better. Marginally. And Vash is none-the-wiser to being observed.

He’s slowly taking apart and cleaning his gun. Rubbing a cloth along each piece, careful of where he puts things on the flat rock he’s taken as a ‘table.’ Vash is scrunched up now, making an interesting pose to note down in your journal.

Next to the drawing, you sketch out some lines and notes on his anatomy. Triceps, you write. Brachioradialis. Palmaris longus. You trail down to his legs. Vastus medialis. Gastrocnemius. Back up to his chest. Pectoralis major. Subtly, you put a heart by the name.

“Watcha drawin’?”

So much for subtlety. How did he sneak up on you? Faster than Vash has time to blink, your book slams closed. He’s left with a waft of air blowing in his face and a wide-eyed stare from you. From your side, he lifts his hands placatingly. “Woah, I didn’t see anything.”

Still, blood rushes to your face and you purse your lips, giving him a searching look. “Liar. What did you see?”

Vash’s smile is gentle. Always gentle. “Nothing, really.” Then, that smile turns mischievous. “I didn’t know you drew naughty pictures.”

You splutter. What? “I do not!”

“It’s okay, really!” He waves his hands and walks over to his bag. “Everyone’s into something. Why else would you panic like that?”

The blush has reached the back of your throat. You cough, sucking in air to protest. “I don’t draw naughty pictures!”

He looks over with a smirk, putting his gun back together without looking. “Sure. And I have both my arms.”

“I don’t!” Not only mortified by the suggestion, you’re blatantly outraged he doesn’t believe you. Only one way to rectify this. You stand from your rock and march over to him. Flipping open the book, you shove it in his face. “See! I’m practicing anatomy!”

Vash’s look goes slack, and with care, he takes the book from your hands. You realize he was teasing you too late. He sees your drawings. He sees them. You’re suddenly nervous again, feeling like a child caught doing something wrong. It’s fine, you think, it’s fine, fine, fine.

Vash takes his time looking over your drawings. It’s of him, obviously. Chest bared, missing the scars and wires and plates he feels on the daily pulling at his skin. You don’t know about them. How could you? He never lets you see. But you are studying anatomy. He sees the scientific terms criss-crossing the page in your neat handwriting. On the next page, he sees you’ve sketched him in different poses; some of him crouched as if over a fire, some jumping in mid-air, coat floating wildly behind him. One is just of his face, his smile. The eyes are a little crooked, but it’s impressive, even still.

He sees your hands worrying out of the corner of his eye. Cracking your knuckles. You do it when you’re nervous. “I only have you around to draw,” you explain, trying to save yourself from more embarrassment. Vash hums, and you duck your head. “It’s…an old hobby of mine.”

The next page are close-ups. Hands, feet, mouth, eyes. You have no coloring pencils; everything is shaded charcoal black-and-gray. In the margins, you’ve drawn different worms you’ve come across, with beaks and bug-eyes and many legs. But overall, he’s the subject. He’s the one you’re drawing the most. A strange feeling settles in his chest, and with a slight grin, he hands the book back.

You take it, watching him, wary. “So…?”

Vash shakes his head. “These are really good!”

Your look is dubious. “You aren’t…weirded out?”

Weirded out? Why would he be? He’s never been the subject of someone’s drawings. It makes him feel…he doesn’t know, searching for the word. “No,” he says, “I’m – flattered,” he finally puts a name to the feeling, and his cheeks pinken.

You look down, gnawing at your inner cheek. “It’s something I started doing a few months back. Just…drawing your poses whenever we have downtime.” Finally, a smile breaks on your lips. “You’re very limber.”

Vash laughs. “It’s all the yoga I do.” He reaches up and tugs at the back of his neck. He feels a bit shy, but asks, “Can I watch you draw sometime?”

Your mouth falls open. “Um…sure?”

He kicks at a nearby pebble. “I’m not the best at drawing. But I like to do it too. In my journals, sometimes.”

You perk up. “You do? Of what?”

“Mainly architecture. I tried people a few times, but they…they look like they’re melting.”

You laugh, and he laughs with you.

And later, in the firelight and lamps of your camp, you and he draw together. He practices drawing your face (and it does look like it’s melting, much to his chagrin and your laughter), and you sketch architecture, blown away and inspired by the detailed drawings of derelict ships and abandoned towns and cities Vash has been to in his journals. You trade art secrets, tips, and switch journals with each other to draw in for a page.

You both go to bed with stained fingertips and smiles, happy to have one more thing to bring you together.

[moonpie016]

---

This song just fits this.

My goodness, they're simpler in design.

Good!

.....And so the rambling begins.

Which I would consider this a oc rambling, I don't know what these dudes are anymore. Except for Myst. But fun.

Though I already explained stuff here.

(If ya wanna read or re-read.)

The wall of words underneath.

⬇️

💛

Soooo.

Illy (she/her)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

First one up. Not much has changed honestly. Still trying to have some calculated way of thinking about things, either logically or critically. It's a struggle for her.

But likes using whatever knowledge she has to idk, rant? Spout random facts?

She's just minding her own business unless it IS her business. (Or nosy).

She has glasses now. Yay! Great! She can read without straining her eyes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

💛

---

💜

Waxing (he/they)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I kinda stole the name Waxing from an old oc of mine, sooo that's his name now. Old oc has no name now. :]

A new thing (other than the headphones) is that the center of his hoodie can basically become or resemble a pit.

Because that's how any strong emotion feels. Usually negative ones. He hates it, Illy tries to make Wax calm down with reasons he shouldn't be anxious, but falls out the window.

It only works if he's not too worked up. Man's eyesight is....ok. Not the best, because unlike his other part, he has to squint at most things. Like words on signs and stuff. Why doesn't he just copy his other half? Idk. He's stubborn. And character design reasons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💜

---

❤️

Seeds (She/he/they)

Myst (she/her)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imma just put Seeds and Myst together here.

Because they're basically one in the same. Yes, Seeds' jacket has stuff on it, I probably will draw something with more stuff on the jacket. (Because I didn't know what else to think of.)

The one side of his face is more expressive than the other. Mostly because each one of these guys looks upset every waking moment.

(They're not, they just look like that.)

But I guess it's to show being more comfortable in being expressive and just not feeling comfortable and trying to... understand the room. Confusion.

Is their goal the same as the album? No. They're all technically "whole", but don't understand anything about this life stuff. It's weird, tricky, and overall odd.

Living in a nice relaxing Void™ is all they know. But taking a step into unknown territory is the what they want, an adventure.

(Depending on whatever adventure really means to them. Or me.) Breaking out of this weird shaped shell. Because the world is scary.

Too much scary stuff that makes Wax retreat to his safe space, and essentially brings his other counterparts with him.

Myst doesn't like this because she knows that this isn't ok. But the others, especially Seeds and Wax just... don't do anything.

But, she and Illy continue to try and strive for new things. Even when the other two challenge them.

She's more honest and blunt about everything. Even when she's trying not to be. Her cold face, her voice. Always been how she's characterized in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🩵

---

Ok, I think I've ramble enough again.

I really need to update tags on certain stuff.

But hope you enjoyed this... random redesign/ LORE (not really lore.). :3

---

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

"I trust you. I like you." — a potential fic based on this (x) Detailed notes on Sabo's design below!

For him, I initially thought of him as a shark of all things. I say that despite not knowing how to draw sharks uh. Here it is below.

I wanted him to be a big boy and have this immense size difference with Law. He's the tallest among the ASL trio and that meant he should be the biggest merman out of the three. He's not necessarily buffer but he just has a larger frame and a longer, more muscular tail.

I also wanted him to look like a freak, a huge figure with obscenely sharp teeth. I found images on Pinterest with sharks with scars that seemed to slice through their skin and I wanted to incorporate that throughout the design. A homage to Sabo's scarred eye, if you will.

He had horns too, for some reason. I just thought it looked cool.

However, what I didn't like about this design was that it didn't read like Sabo, or at least the version of Sabo I envisioned in my head. Hence, I gave up on it. It was sort of devastating because I wanted to try something new, but we move on!

Without a clear idea for what I wanted, I spent a lot of time struggling with not just Sabo's design but with what I wanted the illustration to be overall. Later that evening, I scrolled through Pinterest (again) and found images of eels and that just clicked.

They're just the right combination of cute and just downright weird. They have that snake-like look to them, which echoed my initial shark design. On top of that, they don't look as derpy from the front as compared to sharks.

I did try again to make Sabo freaky, as shown by this sketch below. It's based on a scene from that potential fan fic, where Sabo saves Law from drowning and his inner freak shines through. I imagined a dark lighting situation where Sabo's scars are the light source. It'll be quite creepy and I'd like to manifest this vision someday!

Anyways, from here, I focused on making Sabo look cool and pretty for the illustration. I retained his human face (I am not good enough for furry art) and focused on making his tail look SUPER cool.

It's interesting to me that with this revision, I found inspiration in my initial 'failed' design. I still kept the star-shaped scars and placed them on his tail and body.

They're blue because (1) I wanted to respect Sabo's colour palette and (2) I was inspired by those ocean creatures who glow underwater. I feel that would be a good plot point like Sabo would be insecure about that because it's admittedly kinda scary but Law would think it's reassuring.

That's all I have to say about the designs. I have ideas for Ace and Luffy, but I haven't sketched them out concretely yet. I'm thinking lion fish for Ace and a cute black fish species called the Pinnate Spadefish for Luffy.

The Pinnate Spadefish has one bold red/yellow stripe and I like to think that Luffy as a merman just painted it on to look like Ace. He shifts between red and blue to imitate his Cool™ older brothers.

But yeah, that's all. I needed to yap about this, so if you read this far, thank you for reading!

[silly-comics]

So do you got any ideas on how to cuntue the"blurry photos" comic? Or do you still got nothin? Honestly not rushing you just want to hear some ideas that you might of come up with

“Spoilers” for what I’m planning with Blurry Photos

I’ve been thinking about it but I feel like what I come up with has been cringe 💀

Like, I’d probably start off with Killer dealing with all that happened, although I have no idea how I’d go about it.

Here’s a little secret if I’m being honest, I don’t really understand how Killer’s stages work? The wiki and anywhere else I look don’t really explain it super well? I’m the type to stick to cannon as possible and then build from there, so while I have my own ideas of how they could work but I don’t wanna deviate 😭

Anyways, after Killer is done breaking down or whatever he’s doing, I’ve got a couple paths the story could take?

1: Killer runs into Cross (the most sane one out of the gang) and they have a bro moment? Could establish their “bestie” status, because I see them as being good friends in their own weird way (also I’m a fan of Kross/Criller 🥺 (I don’t think I’d draw any relationship stuff tho idk)). Problem is I can’t think of a way to do it without it just being weird or like…dumb?

2: Killer runs into Horror and Horror picks a fight with him over the whole thing. Horror says something about Chara, Killer says something about Horrors head but bro doesn’t care about his scar cuz he’s chad like that, blah blah blah, makes everything worse.

3: I do #2 and then #1 together

I want to have a sort of mutual understanding of don’t mess with each others scars (in a “I hate you but it’s too much work to bother with” type way) being the end result.

Overall, I’m not sure when I’ll get started on this cuz I got internet friends coming over for two weeks and then summer school stuff (because I want to graduate a year early).

Lmk what you guys think 🤭

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Timeline isn’t gonna match up or make sense so don’t think about it. This was for an OC I didn't care enough to fully flesh out. Kinda sorta post-canon (all Hashira alive). Little OOC so don't think about that either. Might do a part 2 with background. She/Her pronouns (I'm sorry. I'm lazy)

(Masterpost)

Tomioka Giyuu isn’t what you would call, active. In fact, the thought of him having a life outside the Demon Corps never crossed the Hashira’s minds (mostly because they didn’t think he had one IN the corps either).

He was early. Extremely early, actually. Tomioka was not the latest Hashira by any means but, up so early was, off, to say the least. Shinobu noted this when saying her ‘hellos’ to present Hashira. Tomioka, of course, stood off to the side, not making an effort to interact with anyone aside from a simple “Good Morning.” Even for the ever stoic Tomioka this behavior was weird.

“I guess he remembered us after all.” Shinazugawa hissed coming to the group. It was true that the last three meetings Tomioka had missed (granted they’ve all missed meetings due to work but never three in a row) and the thought of Tomioka slacking off and getting off scotch free added on to Shinazugawa’s ever-growing list of reasons to hate Tomioka.

“It must have been a hard mission.” Kanaroji chimed in.

This didn’t sway Shinobu or Shinazugawa. Shinobu knew it couldn’t have been missions for the last three months, Tomioka hadn’t stopped by the Butterfly Mansion once, not even to get ointment for aches and pains. Strong as they are, the Hashira are not invincible. In fact Tomioka hadn’t been badly injured since last spring. Shinobu knew all this. Even outside of missions Tomioka had just been missing overall. It’s like the silence was even quieter without him there. She peered over to Rengoku and Himajima who looked notably tired well- as tired as they possibly could -as they both lightly chatted with amongst themselves. Tomioka would say something back to them and then go back to staring blankly at the porch.

“He’s finally starting to slack off.” Obanai hissed from up high, the group now noticing he’s been here. “I hope he doesn’t think getting here early will absolve him.”

“Obanai you don’t mean Tomioka got here before you?” Shinobu teased

With a fluster shifting of his eyes, Obanai chose to glare at Giyuu rather than return her gaze. “I saw him coming from inside. Maybe Master snapped on him.”

Though they all doubted Master Ubuyashiki would ever raise his voice, the thought did fill Shinazugawa with momentary joy.

With the final Hashira, Muchiro, walking into the garden it was only a matter of time before the Master appeared. With the opening of the door, everyone’s head snapped up and voices hushed. Shinobu snuck a glance at Tomioka who seemed slightly off. He stood a little too straight and struggled to not ball his fist. Obanai’s theory suddenly seemed more plausible.

—

With the meeting concluded you could practically hear the sigh escape Giyuu’s lips as he walked to the porch. He could feel all the eyes on him as he stepped up there only to be stopped by Hinaki.

“I have to ask that you wait here.” She said calmly.

“But me and Hiro-“

“OI! Have some respect Tomioka!” Shinazugawa yelled. He approached the porch. “Who do you think you are to go around ordering people?!”

He caught Giyuu’s glare from on high. His unchanging eyes shifting back to Hinaki only angered Shinagawa more. “He’s looking down on me,” Shinazugawa thought this an act of war.

Glaring back at him, he said “It’s one thing for you to skip meetings but to disrespect the Master’s family.”

“I’m not disrespecting her, I had a question.” Giyuu replied plainly. He was feeling slightly annoyed and very fearful now. This was not how today was supposed to go. He turned back to Hinaki, “Please, we must be on our way-“

“You bastard.” Shinazugawa was already reaching to pull Giyuu off the porch (not wanting to beat him on the porch, that would be disrespectful). Giyuu was ready to draw his sword when the sound of footsteps alerted them all. Out from the door burst Kiriya and another small child. They maneuvered around Giyuu and Hanaki before Kiriya had tripped taking the small boy with him. Before they could launch themselves off the porch Giyuu caught one under each arm and held onto Hinaki’s collar to keep her from falling over.

He set the children down gently, “Forgive me please, Ubuyashiki-san.”

“No, thank you Tomioka-San.” Hinaki replied, graceful as ever. Lady Ubuyashiki was quick behind them to collect her son. Giyuu apologized once again.

“Hiroshi,” Giyuu turned back to the small boy. He stood slightly behind Kiriya with his head low in shame. Giyuu knelt down, “You should apologize to Lady Ubuyashiki and Hinaki.”

Big blue eyes filled with embarrassment the boy complied. Lady Ubuyashiki smiled kindly, “Please be careful next time you return.”

“He can come back?” Kiriya asked

“As long as Tomioka is okay with it.” She smiled kindly

“Of course.” Giyuu replied as the three kids waved off. “Come on, we’re going home.” The boy followed behind Giyuu quietly. He had a small round face and wild black hair sticking out in all directions. Following along, Hiroshi started to sniffle and finally stopped on the bottom step, tugging on Giyuu’s haori.

“What’s wrong?” Giyuu asked

“I’m sorry Papa.” He cried softly as Giyuu picked him up in his arms trying to soothe the boy.

“It’s okay Hiroshi, I know it was an accident but there’s two of you and only one Hinaki. She could have been hurt. Please be more careful.”

The boy nodded sniffling into his fathers shoulder.

The remaining Hashira stared in astonishment at the action. By the time he got his son to calm down Giyuu had finally noticed that he never left the garden and out the front of the home as intended. Still holding Hiroshi, Giyuu bowed his goodbye and left the garden. Before the rest of Hashira could finish processing what just happened Rengoku and Himajime also left quietly behind him.

—

The next meeting came about a month and a half later. This time Giyuu entered at his normal time with Muichiro coming afterwards. He actively stood apart hoping they all would have forgotten (they didn’t), and suffered silently as the many eyes bore into his head. 

It wasn’t just Giyuu, Shinobu was also shooting her glance to Himejima and Rengoku. Himejima was holding up well (surprisingly) but Rengoku was going to pop. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Tengen spent the last week and a half trying to break whatever secret Tomioka had about the same child out of him. An unstoppable force and an immovable object and all that. 

Giyuu was silently praying for this meeting to end soon and end this mental game all the Hashira were taking part in. He had already prepared an exit tragedy to get out with the least amount of questions. He looked at Rengoku and Himejima. The game plan was set and they just need to be ready to go.

You could feel the tension ease when Master Ubuyashiki called the meeting to a close. They all stood quietly, paitiently waiting for him to go inside before all hell broke loose. And just as the door closed Lady Ubuyashiki called out, “Tomioka-San. A word please.”

Rengoku was screaming on the inside as Giyuu looked over to him briefly. Tengen hardly waited for Giyuu to take a single step, “How come you two got to know but we didn’t?”

“A secret child Tomioka?” Shinobu called out “You must not like us if we didn’t get to know.”

“It’s not that…” Giyuu finally broke his silence. He reached for the door when it suddenly swung open and the little pitter of footsteps was heard. Giyuu jumped back and was quick to catch the small figure barreling towards him, “Hiroshi!? What are you doing here?”

“Mama hurt her feet.” Hiroshi replied like it was obvious. All heads snapped to the door and out stepped a woman on a pink kimono.

“(Y/N)?” He looked surprised.

“Ah, Giyuu!” She peered up walking over to him 

“What happened?” He stepped closer to hold onto her waist.

“Just some sores and aches. Lady Ubuyashiki has been so kind.” She turned to both of them “It’s been in honor in your presence.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Tomioka.”

And that’s what broke the string holding all together. The family wordlessly walked off the porch and headed to leave..

Shinobu called out “T-Tomioka?!”

“Yes?” Said (Y/N) and Hiroshi as all three turned to face them.

“Oh! Rengoku-San, Himajime-San! So good to see you both.” (Y/N) smiled

Himejima finally exhaled as both men walked over to greet (Y/N). Both of them gave Giyuu an apologetic look. Hiroshi looked over their shoulders to the remaining Hashira still in a daze. Looking at them side by side there was no denying it. Hiroshi is identical to Giyuu, just smaller and with the cutest round face that Mitsuri just had to gush over.

“You are so cute! Like a mini Tomioka!” She squealed. 

“Your hair looks like mochi!” Hiroshi stayed proudly. “Mama, can we get mochi!” 

(Y/N) smiled, “That sounds like our que. It was an honor to meet you all.”

The family walked out the garden, with Rengoku and Himejima sneaking out with them.

“What the fuck just happened?” Shinazugawa broke the silence.

—

The next meeting was well over two months and the pillars were determined to not let Giyuu go without answers. Especially since he’d recently had to heal up at the Butterfly Mansion while Shinobu was out. Before he could even think of leaving they had him cornered, Obanai watching over Rengoku and Himejima.

“When were you gonna tell us you were married?!” Uzui shouted

“No one asked and I’d rather have a small wedding…” Giyuu answered plainly.

“What about your ring then?”

Giyuu pulled down his collar to show a silver ring on a chain tucked into his undershirt.

“How did you two find out then?” Obanai hissed.

“Tomioka requested I accompany him on a mission so he could be home earlier,” Himejima stated.

“I had an urgent matter with the Master and happened to meet them all as they were leaving.” Rengoku said.

“Wait so Master knows too?” Mitsuri asked

“Yes, they were at the wedding.” Giyuu replied.

“You are unbelievable.” Shinazugawa muttered. “How were you able to get married?”

Giyuu didn’t seem to have an answer. It’s something he thought to himself many times but when (Y/N) smiled at him he always forgot about it. Before he could try to answer, he heard (Y/N) calling out to him. The Hashira were surprised to (Y/N) walk up in a demon slayer uniform and golden checkered haori. She smiled and bowed to the Hashira, “Hello, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, I'm done here.” Giyuu replied.

“Wait, Tomioka!” Shinobu called as they turned to leave.

“Yes?” They both answered to Shinobu’s annoyance. They did it again.

(Y/N) nudged Giyuu forward as she assumed they meant him. Uzui cut in, “We only wanted to officially meet you, Lady Tomioka.”

“Oh!” (Y/N) smiled “I’m honored to meet you all, I am Tomioka (Y/N), (Y/N) is fine.”

“It's so good to meet you! How long have you and Giyuu been together?” Mitsuri asked, the only genuine person in all this.

“I’ve known him since I joined the Corps, we met while I was on my way to a job, it was in separate areas but we met up on the way back.” (Y/N) answered recalling their younger years.

“We’ve been married for five years.” Giyuu answered. The Hashira took note that their son looked about that age. It took all of Uzui’s strength for him to not comment on it.

“How sweet!” Mitsuri cheered “I had no idea you had such a happy family Tomioka!”

“We try not to talk about it,” (Y/N) smiled. A lot more open than Giyuu but (Y/N) also enjoyed their privacy. “Up until now, only Master Ubuyashiki knew. Hiroshi and Kiriya became good friends.”

The Hashira had a million other questions but they tethered on inappropriate or just plain mean. Out of respect for Lady Tomioka, they held themselves together. The strangeness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them. They were happy though. The couple said their goodbyes and turned to leave. The Hashira saw the tension lift off Giyuu’s shoulders as he smiled with his wife.

“Why must we question Tomioka,” Himejima spoke once they left. “Lord Uzui is married with three wives.”

“Yeah but that was before he joined the corps,” Sanemi said “We didn’t know him then, we know Tomioka- barley. He’s a fucking buzzkill and he has a sweet woman that not only married him but slept with him at least once!?”

With those “graceful” last words they parted for the evening.