#ahem...im fine.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price and Robert Russell

Witchfinder General/The Conqueror Worm (1968) dir. Michael Reeves

[anemonet]

Happy halloween!!! Aimed and fired mainly towards >> @choliosus for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange, but happy to everyone else too :DD

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Turning

so I'm back on an ethubs kick after so very long of not writing them (spacer really changes a man), and decided to take a quick peek back into the DBHC au by @shepscapades beloved. thanks for making me insane! ahhaha <33 etho... anyways enjoy them! <3

(2847 words) (check out DBHC here!)

When Etho comes back from exploring, Bdubs is lying in the grass.

It’s a crisp, cold, clear day. The sun is bright blue, bright enough to stare into and imagine what the burning feeling could be, the cold brightness, the way the sun carries no warmth but a fraction of what it could in the summer. Etho knows exactly what time of year it is, he’s never stopped keeping track, he’s never paused counting the days in his own personal, mental calendar. Fall. Getting colder every day. Nights growing in length, days getting shorter and shorter. In the corner of his eye, if he were to focus on it, he could see the date. For now, though, the sides of his vision held other data—temperature, his own lives, a list of players, his personal chances of success. He’s not here to cause problems, that’s not his job. He’s got another objective, something self-made. Survive. He’s supposed to be surviving. He is surviving, in fact.

If Etho could breathe, he would’ve taken in a lungful of that sharp, cold air, would know the way it hit the back of his throat. Instead, he feels the sun, and the air, and knows them in absolutes, and picks his way around the base and over to Bdubs in the grass. He’s not asleep yet—his heart beats a steady drum, calm and even. Etho notes the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he sees his eyebrows twitch when Etho stands in the patch of sun he rests in. He pillows his head on his coat, his arms spread out. His eyes don’t open, but his hand reaches out, smacking the side of Etho’s ankle.

“Etho,” Bdubs says tiredly. 

“How did you know it was me?” Etho asks, a note of curiosity entering his tone. He tilts his head, a bit unnecessarily. He knows Bdubs can’t see. It just feels right. He’s been doing a lot of that, lately—doing things because they feel right, rather than because he has to. That’s human, isn’t it?

“Who else is gonna come stormin’ into our base and stand in front of me?” Bdubs says. Finally, he cracks open an eye, squinting up at Etho, brows furrowed. His hand messes with the lace of Etho’s boot, twisting it in his fingers. Etho notes it down—he doesn’t want to trip.

“I was quiet as a mouse, Bdubs!” Etho says. He smiles—just enough for it to be seen in his eyes. Bdubs can’t see behind the black mask on his face. 

Bdubs snorts. After a moment, he shuts his eyes again. His hand falls still, over his chest. He sighs out a profound thing, face softening as he relaxes again.

“Sure you were, Etho,” he says. Etho hums a little. He likes the sound of Bdubs’ tone when he says that—something about it feels so much softer than normal. Maybe unintentionally tired. Maybe he was asleep before Etho got here. “Get outta my sun, will you?”

Step out of the sun, Etho thinks. It lingers for a moment. Will you? The added request. He considers it for a moment longer before he does. He rounds around Bdubs’ head, drops down to occupy the space right at his right shoulder. The sun shines on both of them.

Etho takes a moment to shrug off the warm coat around him. It ends up on the grass beside him and so does his mask and he leans back on his hands. He soaks in the sun, wondering what that warmth could feel like if it were just a bit stronger, if the bite of cold around them weren’t so prevalent. He wonders how much Bdubs feels of both, if it’s more than him, if it’s less. Bdubs heart stays steady, his breathing even. He still isn’t sleeping.

“That better?” Etho asks, lowering his voice. Bdubs makes a noise, half-startled. Etho looks down at him, watching the way his face changes ever so as he recognizes Etho’s question. He gets the urge, just for a moment, to reach out, to run his hand through Bdubs’ hair, despite how greasy it must be at this point. He wonders if it would tangle. He wonders if it feels any certain way. 

“That’s much better,” Bdubs sighs. “Thank you, Etho.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of quiet where they sit together. Etho’s hand sits behind Bdubs’ head. He considers that urge with full merit, listening to Bdubs sigh again, comfortable and content even in the midst of a death game. To be fair, Etho knows he isn’t. This is just a facade for a brief moment—or perhaps it’s Etho himself making him this calm. He can’t tell. Part of him hopes it’s the latter, rather than the former.

Bdubs tilts his head back, craning his neck to get a look at Etho behind him. He smiles a bit, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. Etho tilts his head again, that questioning gesture, finally letting his hand rest at the crown of Bdubs’ head. Bdubs smile only grows, just a bit, just the smallest fraction. Etho doesn’t move his hand—he just rests it there. Just for a moment. 

“What’re you doin’?” Bdubs asks.

“Sitting here,” Etho says plainly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable.”

“I am,” Etho says. He hums a little, to add to the effect. “You look comfortable yourself.”

“Oh,” Bdubs says, shutting his eyes. “Very much so.”

Etho hums again. He lets his thumb drag over the top of Bdubs’ head, muzzing up his hair, allowing just a moment of self indulgence. Bdubs doesn’t stop him. It’s nice. 

Bdubs watches him with a soft, partially confused, partially content look. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, leans his head back down so that Etho’s hand cups the top of his head. He sighs out and clambors up. Etho’s hand falls away after that, and something resembling a pang of longing makes his thirium pump stutter. 

Bdubs turns toward him, shifting forward until their knees meet. He blocks part of the sun over Etho, to which Etho nearly makes a comment about it, but it gets lost somewhere as Bdubs squints at him. Late afternoon, Etho thinks. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to last much longer. He’ll have to haul himself up and start a fire, soon enough, but Bdubs pins him with that look and Etho can’t move. Bdubs hasn’t even given him a request. It feels self-inflicted. 

“You’re staring,” Etho says, a bit obviously.

“You were looking at me funny,” Bdubs says. His mouth curves into a frown. Etho hopes it doesn’t look like he’s watching. Instead, Etho laughs.

“I wasn’t,” he says. Bdubs snorts, shaking his head. He reaches out, patting Etho’s unmarred cheek. The impression his hand leaves is warm—warm enough to almost be hot. Etho’s brain pings the sensation, the impression, the linger of touch, records, stores, repeats. If he had something to swallow he’s sure he would've done it, like he’s seen Bdubs do. 

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything, and Bdubs laughs, and Etho doesn’t think another sound could be that good. Bdubs pulls himself up after that, pushing himself forward on his hands and knees, wincing at he twists to stretch, and sighs.

“Tango’ll be back soon to check up on us,” he says. “You wanna get started on a fire?”

Etho looks up at him, nodding slowly. He’s still lingering on that remnant of a touch, the weight of it all. He agrees to what Bdubs says regardless, and as Bdubs nods his thanks and walks away, still complaining about the ache in his back, Etho scoops himself off the ground. Above him, the sun has started to sink in the sky, and the shadows grow.

Etho makes a fire.

Tango comes and goes. He’s not much for sleep, which is typical for him as of late. He laughs as he talks to the two of them, as they bounce around stories about the day passed. Nothing happened—not really, nothing of note. It was slow, full of collection, of waiting, of planning. Tango talks of resource gathering as Bdubs drinks soup from a wooden bowl. It’s a nice slice of quiet, and Etho watches the expression on Tango’s face with a careful contemplation. His red eyes flick to Etho when he talks about their team, and Etho feels that bit of warmth, sharing that eye. Everywhere he goes, he carries a bit of Tango with him. Their odds look better with him here, but he can’t deny the sliver of human error that chips away at that success rate. He doesn’t know how much longer Tango’ll stick around. Surely, he can see it too.

The fire is still going when Tango picks himself up and dusts his pants off and says he’ll be back later. Etho believes him, reaches out to pat his shoulder as he stands with him. Tango jostles, smiles like he means that, too. Etho watches him go before he drops down beside Bdubs again. Bdubs stares into the flames, eyes far away, expression soft. Etho moves to sit next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. It’s Bdubs that closes the gap, pressing to his side, cheek against his shoulder. Etho stays still, stiffening, pretending not to care when Bdubs takes his hand. He can feel the uptick of stress as he sits still, feeling his pump thump in his chest.

Bdubs runs his thumb over the back of his hand, over the valleys of his knuckles. He traces them out with the pad of his finger, and the spark of sensation travels up Etho’s arm, like it could tickle the back of his neck, raise the hair there. It registers, again and again, dull and present but not unpleasant. He leans back into Bdubs. Bdubs laughs a little, just a huff of air.

“You better not be sleepin’ on me, Etho,” Bdubs says, the undertone of sleep coming to his voice. Etho makes a noise of disagreement.

“Never, Bdubs!”

“Mm,” Bdubs sighs. “Good.”

Bdubs lets go after a moment, peeling away from him for just a beat, before they’re sitting side by side again, Bdubs still pressed as close as he can be to his shoulder. Etho notes the way Bdubs shivers, imperceptible. Etho’s the warmest thing besides the fire, here, all moving mechanical parts and expelling heat to keep cool. Not as much as Tango might, but enough to matter. Enough to be a little bit warmer than Bdubs, right now.

Bdubs sighs again, shutting his eyes. Facing Etho, now, Etho can watch his expression change as he starts to warm up, softening, sinking. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes for a long moment, but his hand comes up, his right hand, left hand replacing the one holding Etho’s wrist hostage. He reaches up to cup Etho’s face in his palm. His warm hand slides up to cradle the scarred side of Etho’s face, and Etho can’t help the immediate reaction of simulated skin fading to white, sliding away where Bdubs’ warm, calloused hand makes contact. Bdubs runs his thumb over a particular crack near his jaw, just a simple, slow motion. Etho wishes he could sigh. It would be the proper response. More than just leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes, more than not knowing why it was nice, and just knowing that it was. It sends sensation after sensation after sensation, the tingling feeling running over his skin and up his cheek and neck. Does Bdubs know? Can he see what it’s doing? Surely he can’t hear the stutter, the way his pump works faster, any of that. If he were to open his eyes, would Bdubs be looking at him? What would that expression look like?

He opens his eyes anyway. He lets them slide open, ignoring the very human response to shut them again, to soak in the touch, the feeling of being held. The feeling he was realizing he would like if he could tie the two together. Bdubs is looking at him, but his expression is soft, almost concerned. Hesitant, maybe. He pauses the drag of his thumb over Etho’s cheek as Etho meets his eye, even as Etho’s expression is low-lidded and unfocused.

“‘S that nice?” Bdubs asks softly, voice going hoarse as it hits the low register. 

Etho blinks, slow. The edges of his vision fuzz out, like his optical unit is failing. He opens his mouth, realizing he’s failed to preemptively form a sentence. He makes a sound instead, then tries again, stuttering.

“I don’t know.”

Bdubs frowns a little. Etho leans hard into his palm. Not like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“It’s nice, but I don’t know what nice means,” Etho manages. He’s not making any sense. “You don’t have to stop.”

Bdubs’ frown fades, turning soft, warm, into a smile. He laughs a little, a sound Etho registers as a laugh. Good enough to be a laugh. 

“I hear you, sweetheart,” Bdubs says gently.

Etho smiles, laughs a little. As much as he’s learned to mimic, so far, something that’s started to morph into his own little sound. 

“You getting soft on me, Bdubs?” he asks. He can’t help it—the amused tease comes too natural to kick. He feels Bdubs pinch his cheek and recoils, face scrunching.

“I am not,” Bdubs barks. His voice is flooded with amusement though, and Etho laughs with him. He can’t help it. Bdubs laughs, and he does too, and whatever thing he’s experiencing feels incredibly fond and sweet and he hopes he’ll soon be able to actually pin it to something. What was all that? Who was that, squeezing itself into Bdubs’ body, to touch Etho’s face in a way that he’d never really done before? To admire? Was he admiring? Looking at him? Memorizing like Etho was? Etho watches Bdubs turn away, searching for something to snuff the fire. He pretends not to notice the flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.

Bdubs is such an odd person. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get a proper grasp of human emotion. Maybe that’s the whole point.

Bdubs snuffs the fire. When he does, he turns to Etho. The mask finds Etho’s face again, and Etho registers the falter in Bdubs’ face when he looks at him.

“Gotta protect that face of yours, don’t’cha?” Bdubs says, swallowing down something. Maybe there’s a hint of emotion Etho is missing. He can’t really tell. His vision sharpens back into clarity as Etho rises to a stand. The sky is just starting to get dark, the air cold, and Bdubs looks over to the wooden structure they’re calling home—more than just the fort. A warmer space than just the fort.

“You know it,” Etho says playfully. That alone cracks the facade of Bdubs’ discomfort. He smiles, shaking his head, rolling his eyes in the good-natured way that Etho always recognized as good-natured and not malicious. 

“You comin’ to bed?” Bdubs asks. He jerks his head over to the wooden structure, body halfway turned to it. He doesn’t say anything else, lingering on Etho’s unsaid answer. Etho shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets as his shoulders rise. 

“Maybe. Probably not tonight.”

“Mm,” Bdubs says. “Right. Forget you don’t need to sleep half the time.” Then he laughs, and at the last second, adds:

“You weirdo.”

Etho barks out a laugh—something wholly his own, surprised, startled by Bdubs’ comment. He watches Bdubs turn away from him, still chuckling, still smiling to himself. After a beat, he calls back to him, and Bdubs turns. Etho shrugs off his coat, holding it out to him with one hand, the other still in the pocket of his pants. Bdubs tilts his head, frowning a little.

“You’re not gonna get cold?” he asks. Etho shakes his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he says, smiling. It feels nice to smile. It feels nice that it meets his eyes.

“Okay, Etho,” Bdubs says, taking the coat. He pauses for a moment, draping it over his arm. It feels good. Maybe that’s what Bdubs means by things feeling nice. Feeling. Maybe. “Have a good night, alright?”

“I’ll try, Bdubs,” Etho says, letting his tone be as affectionate as is appropriate. Bdubs nods his head. That smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as Etho can see him.

Bdubs wanders off to their room, quiet. Etho finds that place in the grass again. He’ll check in on him in a bit, spend the rest of the night planning, working, and spend some time resting when he knows he’s able to tomorrow. For now, though, Etho drops himself into the soft grass still present around the base, in the snow, feeling it cold but not yet damp, waning from the evening light. Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Maybe he can get used to feeling. Maybe he’ll understand feeling on his own. He looks up, into the sky, and tries to see if there are any stars he recognizes.

They wink their way in from the gold-blue sky, and Etho watches. 

[indecisive-dizzy]

Alright the Gravity Falls brain rot is kicking in (aka I watched a 4hr video overanalyzing ATOTS <3 iykyk)

So have a loosely thought out concept of a hypothetical Welcome Home x Gravity Falls au with my "Hear me out!"s This is a long one, you've been warned <3

Wally - Dipper

Sally - Mabel

Julie - Stanley

Frank - Stanford

Eddie - Soos

Barnaby - Wendy

Poppy - Abuelita

Howdy - Gideon

Home - Bill???

Ok hear me out! (under the cut) Please ignore typos <3

Very quick clarification! For this au everyone is at least in their teens and I'm gonna add their ages as I elaborate. Ok? Ok!

Gonna Start with Poppy and Eddie. In this hypothetical au Poppy is Not Eddie's grandmother. Originally I thought of assigning Poppy the role of Lazy Susan but I wanted her to have a closer connection to the rest of the cast. And Abuelita fit the role well enough for me! She's just a sweet homebody who wants to knit and bake in peace. Eddie tells her all about work and Wally and Sally visit. <3

So Poppy and Eddie live together as Roommates/Family. Poppy took Eddie in as a teen (16ish) when she was in her early 20s (22-23?) He views her as a big sister. And she views him as a little brother. Anxiety siblings <3 (yes I hc Eddie has anxiety) Eddie started working for the shack soon after being taken under Poppy's wing. He's a tad forgetful and clumsy but is a very reliable handy man and a good friend! He's got a big heart and worries about Julie sometimes.

Currently, as in the time the au takes place, Eddie is 24 and Poppy is 30-31.

Julie and Frank would in fact make a Fantastic Mabel and Dipper. Tbh I think I've seen the comparison before. Which is exactly why I'm not doing it! They're not twins here but they are childhood friends and very close in age, Frank being slightly older. Currently, Julie is 57(?) and Frank is 58(?). (Ages aren't confirmed, all I know is I want them to be A Bit younger than the Stans. Currently this would put them in their late 20s at the time of the portal incident)

I feel like people sometimes forget that Frank is not against resorting to violence lol. Which is great for post portal Ford (and maybe Paranoia era Ford. bbg was not afraid to use that crossbow.) And Julie is a girl bossing business woman! She's scamming people selling breen to the tourists! Whatever that is! Tbh Big inspo for this decision is Relativity Falls, like I said these two make for great mystery twins.

So! Wally (15) as a teenage Dipper! It's just Wally but his curiosity is bumped to 100. Still the same lil guy but he's got a hyperfixation on the supernatural and cryptids. Maybe he hasn't quite figured out his style yet, maybe he's a bit more awkward, I dunno.

He kinda didn't want to spend his summer here but ends up enjoying himself as he makes friends and gets to over indulge his curiosity.

Sally (15) is Wally's adopted sister! By sheer coincidence they have the same birthday but Sally always points out that she's older because she was "born at sunrise!" She's very adventurous and is often the one leading their escapades. I imagine she meets this aus equivalent of Candy and Grenda at the local theater. Very much wants to be her own person, separating herself from the Adopted Twins thing. Not in a bad way! She loves Wally very much but wants people to see her as Sally! Not just "Wally's Sister."

Barnaby (22) is very laid back and so is Wendy. Yeah I don't actually have a lot to say? Um. He does the bare minimum work but is a good friend to Julie. He's real observant and can tell she's not always as bubbly as she seems But she's also his boss so he doesn't pry. Instead just offering a distraction or a rare bit of advice..

Oh! There's a parallel with him and Wally and Wendy and Dipper. Except Wally just wants to be friends with Barnaby but doesn't quite know how to communicate that. Maybe he just kinda follows him around the shack hoping to figure out what to say?

Thinking their relationship is literally the recent quote from Clown's Q&A: "Barnaby meeting Wally felt like business as usual, and Wally meeting Barnaby felt like meeting the whole world." yeah that's it. Sums it up Perfectly <3 Wally thinks Barnaby is really cool and friendly. And he wants a friend who treats him like he's mature. Like he's 15, not 5. And Barnaby does that right out the gate. Calls him kid but obviously doesn't treat him like a small child.

Ahem. Capitalism. Howdy's (21) a filthy capitalist and wants the shack for Profit. I don't think he'd resort to literal breaking and entering to get the deed? Can't make Profit from jail if he gets caught. But he's definitely trying to buy the property off of Julie. Maybe we stray further from Gravity Falls canon and say he gets an early redemption bc I'm a sucker for this goof. It would be sometime after taking the shack (and losing it.) Oh but he does summon the Evil. Can't break the law if the law doesn't account for Interdimensional Demons!

On that note, Yes Howdy could be Stanley. But again. That's the easy way out! Also in my brain that would make,, idk Barnaby? Ford. And I couldn't do that.

Ok final (wh) character. Home. So I'm on the side of Home Isn't Evil/The Antagonist. He's just a guy (house)! A sassy fella! But someone's gotta be the Eldritch Horror and Unfortunately, Home,,, well he's a lil quirky!

But idk How to incorporate Home. They speak in onomatopoeias! They're a house! Is Home now a Vague 2D House Shaped Demon? Do the have Limbs? Wear a top hat? Do they talk now? Home speaking words feels cursed. But I genuinely don't what else to do? Maybe we suspend our disbelief and they still talk through banging shutters. Everyone just understands them bc Cartoon logic pffff maybe they have subtitles projected into your brain that only you can see idk lol.

So obviously there's Way more GF characters than there are WH characters. insert characters [(y/n)] aren't my thing for aus so that's a no go for me personally. I imagine the town is filled with characters we've heard of outside the neighbors (Ma Beagle of course lives in town.) Maybe some of Howdy's family is here who knows. And the rest would be randos or ocs I guess! Tho I don't believe Julie's siblings are in town.

Anywho this is all hypothetical and I made it up and retyped things as I went along. I wanted to ramble some nonsense so I did! If you read it, Awesome! You sure did that!

[sheepthatgobaa]

so.... Thirteen huh...

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Extra under the cut:

this one is just becuz I thought it was too awkward that she wasn't leaning on anything so I just put luke there lmao 😭

Also the pose was based off of that hot lifeguard lady in lilo & stitch becuz I couldn't stop thinking about her

[t4ct1c4l-b4ckup]

....Heeeyyyy kitty.

[ashertickler]

i shamelessly listened to the recent balance audio just to hear what the buzz about Aaron's voice change is about.... and guys.

im sorry. but my honest reaction. HE'S INSANEEEE

[babygirlbdubs]

im actually going insane

SHAKING TREMBLING CRYING OHMY GOD HE’S SOOOOOOO i cannot bELIEVE he’s brought back face cam the day i can’t watch oh my god he is so evil and cruel to me this is targeted harassment i rrrrrrrrrrrrrrhrhrhrhrhr biting growling going insane

[hwsforeignrelations]

RANT

[aesrot]

pov you're a literature major who just listened to this

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

As requested by anon, Vincent Price scenes from "Song of Bernadette" 🖤

[follineo]

UUUUGHGGHGHGHGH,,,,

[tartarduck]

this post is a thank you to the mhy staff who made chest harness luke possible. the shading of the folds on his shirt is truly. detailed.

and by that i mean you can literally see the outline of the key under his shirt !!! i wasn't looking anywhere else, i swear!!!!!!

[bonetrousledbones]

using all of my power right now to not reblog a stupid addition to one of my posts and tell them that i am exploding them with my mind

[rainc0at]

helena bertinelli my autistic queen i love you

[anemonet]

I want to ask about Moon and Pebbles but I'm bad at asking questions D: My brain is forever empty. But I love them and I love you drawing them

Heeelllooo anon you have activated my trap card!! Brace for words.

First of aww hi thank you thats so sweet, they are so beloved :D

Second of oh boy I hope you were asking for headcanons!! if not.. uh.. Anyhow im gonna talk abit about some iteratormodel thoughts!! Im gonna use this totally legit reference here to you know, viszualize.

Keep in mind this is all just my own thoughts!

So to get started I like to seperate iterators into older models v newer models - older being ones before anchients lived on top of them and the newer ones post ancheints - which reflects how their built. Older ones like moon are for one, well.. older, older tech and older materials, their clunkier and larger, think the teddybear phones. Second, their made to be low maintence, their built somewhere and then they will just chug along till they solve The Great problem. They generally more durable, hide all inner wiring and machinery with plates, all delicate things like hands are also covered. In short their more machines and tools than anything else.

The newer models in contrast like pebbles are more like our modern smartphones: lighter, sleeker, more functions and also shit quality, which is why pebbles got a much sleeker and thinner look. And besides the fact that tech evolves and develops this also ties into how their created (possibly? not sure if its actully canon who knows) when the ancheints are in closer proximity to the iterators, - think how pebbles entrence is bascily right by artificers entrence to pebbles city - their now not only machines, their something closer to art(?) their something to show off ( i have some deranged thoughts about iterator manifacturing and capatlism but lets not get into that) and they are now something not just a machine, working somewhere unseen, they are now objects you can see, so they need a "cooler" look. ( think like those transparent gameconsols)

-- also side note i read a like comment somewhere talking about iterators and ancheints beautystandards which oh boy, feral. and i like to think that shows in pebbles and the newer models design much more than older ones, the whole thin gangly monk look and tiny feet (ancheint bound their cool birdfeet) and a more elaborate design. I always found it curious that iterators dont wear masks but i guess there is a distance, i mean its funny that the people who wanted death most of all created something that couldnt die, - also it implies some iterators killed themself which oh boy - anyhow i also have a lot of thoughts of iterators using wires as hairdoes but this tangent is getting long so i stop.--

so to come to somewhat of an end, moons definitely just gonna chug along till the world ends if needed while pebbles probably started cracking his shell and wires like half a century after maintence stopped, boys not made to last in that way, aestetics over function if you will. also no this is not an elaborate way to explain why moon is just bigger ( i like drawing soft squares, sue me) and let me tell you it felt very fucked up to draw naked pebbles. Now i think i talked to long but again if you read this long thanks for the ask!!! I hope I answered nothing!!

also bonus drawing cause i think that was what you were actully asking for :))