#ts: their silhouettes

[alyrasturnz]

CAN U DO AN ‘OUR SONG’ BY TS THEMED FIC OF MATT OR CHRISSS?

 ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ OUR SONG

❐ summary » in the dusk of their youth, a couple's drive along a winding country road transforms into a reflective journey through the chapters of their shared past. their love story, a delicate weave of secret encounters and quiet expressions of affection, unfurls like a symphony of enduring devotion. through vivid memories and touching moments, they realize that their connection is not fleeting but an eternal melody, echoing through the challenges of time and the quiet of unspoken words.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » sneaking out

❐ a/n && w/c » i tried not making it too long but i ended up making it too short.. • 2.27k

you were immersed in the soft hum of a familiar tune, the melody weaving through the air from your speakers. your pen moved fluidly across the notebook, each line of ink a delicate dance, capturing your thoughts and emotions on the pages.

the room felt like a sanctuary, the outside world a distant memory. then, just as you were about to finish a sentence, a gentle, almost tentative tap at your window broke the spell, pulling you back to the present with an unexpected jolt.

your eyebrows knitted together in curiosity as you turned your gaze toward the window. there, balanced on a sturdy tree branch, was matt, his arms casually draped over the windowsill. his presence was unexpected, yet there was a familiar ease in his stance, as if he belonged to the very fabric of the moment, bridging the gap between the outside world and your secluded sanctuary.

your eyes widened in surprise, darting quickly to the door before snapping back to matt. without a moment's hesitation, you moved swiftly towards him, each step filled with a sense of urgency and anticipation, as if drawn by an invisible thread pulling you closer to the unfolding scene.

"matt! what are you doing?" you whisper-shouted, your voice barely contained as you fumbled with the latch to open the window. matt's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, the night air swirling around you both.

"come with me. the weather is nice," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, carrying the weight of an unspoken promise. the gentle cadence of his words seemed to blend seamlessly with the soft rustling of the leaves outside, inviting you into a world where the night was alive with possibilities.

"it's 1 in the morning," you replied, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. the weight of the hour hung in your voice, mingling with the quiet defiance in your stance, as the world outside seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

"trust me," he whispered, his voice carrying a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. he turned away, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the night as he began his descent down the tree with practiced ease. each step was deliberate, his movements fluid and graceful, as if the tree itself welcomed his touch.

you watched, captivated by the effortless way he navigated the branches, leaving you standing there, torn between the comfort of your room and the magnetic pull of the unknown adventure he promised.

he landed softly on the grass, his movements as fluid as a cat's, before glancing back up at you with a playful urgency in his eyes. "we don't have all night!" he called out, his voice a mixture of impatience and excitement, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his figure, urging you to join him in the embrace of the night's mysteries.

you cast your gaze downward, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you close your eyes tightly. with deliberate and cautious movements, you begin to climb out of your window, each step taken with the utmost care, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon you.

you hesitantly place your foot on the sturdy branch where matt once stood, the memory of his presence still lingering. carefully, you lower yourself onto the branch, your movements slow and deliberate. inch by inch, you scooch towards the trunk, the rough bark pressing against your palms, grounding you in the reality of your daring escape.

you embrace the tree trunk, your arms wrapping tightly around its rough surface as you begin your careful descent. each movement is measured, your foot finding purchase on another branch. yet, as you prepare to continue, you pause, frozen in place, the weight of the moment anchoring you in a delicate balance between fear and determination.

"it's okay, i'll catch you," matt reassured, his voice a soothing balm against the night's tension. he stood below, arms outstretched, a steadfast promise of safety in the midst of uncertainty.

"oh my god," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips as you shut your eyes tightly, summoning every ounce of courage before propelling yourself into the unknown.

you fall into matt's arms, the impact causing him to stumble back slightly. a soft chuckle escapes his lips, a gentle sound that mingles with the night air, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

"come," he murmured, his grip firm yet gentle on your wrist as he propelled you towards his car. the urgency in his stride was palpable, and with a swift motion, he flung open the passenger door, guiding you inside with an air of determination and care.

you glance upward, your hands deftly working to detach the sunroof, a precursor to the intricate process of removing the car's roof entirely. with each precise movement, the structure yields, ultimately laying bare the interior to the vast expanse of the open sky.

matt slips into the car, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. as he settles into the seat, he tilts his head back, a smile slowly spreading across his face, his eyes reflecting a quiet satisfaction.

"i can't recall a single instance where you've ridden in this car with the roof on,” matt chuckled, his laughter a soft, melodic sound that lingered in the air. he reached forward, turning the key in the ignition with a practiced ease, the engine roaring to life in response.

as the car rumbled beneath them, he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, the leather cool and familiar under his fingers. with a smooth motion, he eased the car into gear, the tires crunching softly against the gravel before they glided onto the open road, the wind whipping through the exposed interior.

one hand gripped the steering wheel with a steady assurance, each knuckle subtly flexing with the rhythm of the road. the other hand, in a gesture both intimate and protective, rested gently on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric, creating a silent connection that spoke volumes.

the wind wove through your hair, each strand dancing to its own rhythm as music played softly in the background, a harmonious accompaniment to the night. a radiant smile spread across your face, your eyes lifting to the heavens where the stars glittered like scattered diamonds, each one a silent witness to your joy.

you stared at the sky, your smile slowly fading into a frown as the love song played softly in the background. it was a ballad of an organized, structured relationship, a stark contrast to your own with matt, which was carefree and young, filled with spontaneous moments and unplanned adventures.

each note of the song seemed to echo the stability and predictability that was absent from your life together. you sighed deeply, the weight of the song's lyrics pressing down on your heart, stirring a mix of emotions within you.

with a gentle motion, you reached out and turned the radio down, the music fading to a murmur. matt, ever perceptive, sensed the shift in your mood. he glanced at you briefly, his eyes filled with concern and a silent question, before quickly turning back to the road.

his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. the wind continued to weave through your hair, but the atmosphere inside the car had shifted, charged with unspoken thoughts and the complexity of your emotions.

"something wrong?��� matt inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and curiosity, his eyes briefly flickering towards you before refocusing on the road ahead.

"i don't know," you responded with a shrug, crossing your arms defensively. "it's just that... i don't think we have a song that truly captures us."

matt shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "i'm sure there's a song out there that perfectly encapsulates what we have," he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

"yeah, maybe," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned your gaze to the side, letting your eyes wander out of the window, lost in the passing scenery.

»--•--«

you groan in frustration, the sound echoing through the room as you drop your bag onto the hardwood floor with a thud. with a swift motion, you slam the door behind you, the reverberation resonating with the turmoil inside you.

“everything went wrong today," you mutter, your voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. it felt as though the universe had conspired against you, each moment unraveling in a cascade of misfortune.

first, your hair wasn't cooperating, and neither was your makeup. it was as if the very essence of your morning routine had rebelled against you, each strand of hair defying your efforts and your makeup refusing to blend seamlessly, setting the tone for a day fraught with frustration.

then, your so-called teacher, with their condescending attitude, pushed you to the brink. unable to hold back, you shot back a retort, sharp and unfiltered, which inevitably landed you in detention.

to add to the day's misfortunes, matt was conspicuously absent from school today, leaving a void in your routine. his absence lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the solace you were denied.

safe to say, all you needed was to sleep. the weight of the day's calamities bore down on you, and the promise of sleep seemed like the only refuge, a sanctuary where the turmoil of the day could finally dissolve into oblivion.

you plop down onto your bed, but your back doesn't meet your mattress; instead, it encounters something else. the expected softness of your mattress is replaced by an unexpected obstruction, jarring you from your momentary surrender to exhaustion.

your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you stand up abruptly, a gasp escaping your lips. your eyes widen as they fall upon an elegant bouquet resting on your bed, accompanied by a note that beckons with silent intrigue.

you pick up the bouquet, feeling the delicate weight of it in your hands. your eyes trace over the familiar crimson petals of your favorite red tulips, each one a testament to passion and beauty.

the tulips are nestled amidst a lush tapestry of eucalyptus greens, their silvery leaves adding a touch of elegance. interwoven with the eucalyptus are vibrant field greens, bringing a sense of wild, untamed nature to the arrangement.

delicate sprigs of baby's breath are scattered throughout, their tiny white blossoms adding an ethereal quality, like whispers of purity and innocence amidst the bold colors. the entire bouquet is a sensory feast, a carefully crafted symphony of flora that speaks directly to your heart.

“oh my god," you whisper softly, the words barely escaping your lips as you gently place the bouquet back down. with a sense of trepidation mingled with curiosity, your fingers reach for the note, its presence heavy with unspoken promises and hidden meanings.

your eyes scan over the text, each word weaving its way into your soul. as you absorb the message, your heart swells, a tide of emotions rising within you, stirred by the profound and tender sentiments expressed in the note.

“our song is etched in the little moments that make us, us. it's the slamming screen door as we sneak out late, my fingers tapping gently on your window. it's the whispered conversations on the phone, your voice soft and slow because it's late and we don't want your mom to know. our song is your laughter, infectious and pure, and the memory of our first date, where i kicked myself for not kissing you when i had the chance. it's the prayer i whispered before bed, asking god to let us relive these moments over and over, because each one is a note in the melody of our love.”

"aw," you murmur, feeling a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. you set the note down with a delicate touch, your gaze drifting away, seeking refuge in the familiar view of your window. the outside world seems to blur as your mind becomes a whirlpool of emotions, each one tugging at your heartstrings with a gentle, insistent pull.

but you tilt your head, your curiosity piqued, as you notice a silhouette perched on the same sturdy branch you had used to sneak out just the other day. the figure seems almost ethereal against the backdrop of the night, a silent witness to your secret escapades, stirring a mix of nostalgia and intrigue within you.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye, as you quietly make your way to the window. with deliberate care, you lift the latch and open it ever so gently, ensuring not a single creak betrays your presence, all in hopes of surprising him. the cool night air brushes against your face, heightening the anticipation of the moment.

"shit," you mutter softly under your breath, carefully balancing on the branch as you make your way towards matt. with deliberate slowness, you lower yourself beside him, the branch swaying ever so slightly. as you settle in, you rest your head gently on his shoulder, feeling a sense of calm wash over you amidst the quiet rustling of leaves.

he looked down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "hi," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of you.

"i really liked that song," you say, a smile tugging at your lips as you gaze out into the vast expanse of the night sky. "there's no song that compares to ours."

[tinterabyte]

Sheriff Edelgard and Miss Arnault

COWGIRL YURI UPON YE CAN I GET A YEEEEEEHAW??? I had so much fun playing with dress designs and silhouettes and shading for this! I tried putting some thought into making connections between canon and my “cowboyverse” designs.

For Edelgard, I kept the overall design fairly simple yet regal (?) much like her Three Houses TS design. I added colorful tassels and other small bits to allude to the flashiness that comes with being an empress. I really, REALLY tried to incorporate her crown in this but I couldn’t think of a way how. I added a little headband, perhaps I should make her hat bigger?

For Dorothea, I took inspiration from barmaid type dresses because I think the silhouettes match her canon designs very well. I also added lots of lace and fishnets as a more amped, dramatic up version of her Three Hopes design. Im such a huge fan of the pinks and lace details!!!

More Cowboy Emblem will come soon!! Hope y’all like em so far!!!!!

[p0rk-guts]

YAAAAALL IT'S ANGEL DUST!!!!! bro I'm so exited to tell u about him hehehehe he might be my fav redesign of the bunch idk

Comparison & rant!⬇️ + A bug/spider cw. I put reference images in there!

Ok guys can I be honest with you. I think. Pilot and pre-pilot Angel were peak 😔 I'M SORRY I'M BREAKING MY SILENCE

Like whaaat... WHAAAT.... I'm sorry he served here he had the BEST design idc idc you can't change my mind. These were NOT bad designs. I've got a slight preference to his oldest design but even then the pilot design was great to me.

THIS however...

OooOOOH MY GODDDDD THEY NEUTERED HIM!!?! NO tits, three measly ugly stripes on an uglier coat, LONG GLOVES THAT ARE MISMATCHED??? ONE OF THEM HAS THESE WEIRD... WHITE FLAPS?? WHO— WHAT. WHY. AND THEY GO OVER HIS LONG SLEEVES 😭😭😭

I'm sorry but Angel will always be the most egregious case of character assassination in this show, design and character wise. He sucks now and I used to love him.

Okay enough crying let's get serious.

So yeah show Angel sucks. Removing his chunky gloves removed a lot of the fun shape in his silhouette so now he's just a gangly twink. Very little visual interest. Also hate hate hate how his new mismatched gloves are pulled over his long sleeve coat. So dumb. Hate it.

Also explain to me how he's gradually gotten less tits but has simultaneously become more femboy-ified..... So many people immediately mistake him for a girl.......

They also mistake him for. Literally anything but a spider. Once again Viv can't code or theme characters for shit. I also don't like how his face changed... I can't describe it but It's so much less appealing and charming. Something in the eyes and his little cheek bump. Idk. Really hate show Angel props to the animators for making him watchable with his bold animation ts was real nice

Okay onto my Angel! He's now a goldenrod crab spider now! Thank you @/cryptablog for this idea!! (Not tagging them bc they hate the hellaverse with a burning passion lol 💀) They can be white with pinkish markings like our og Angel but most of them are tinted yellow or completely yellow!

I decided to make him most similar to that mid ground mix of yellow and white with pink-er markings. 1 because I kept lust pink and I feel like that'd be a prominent sin of his (+ purple is in here a lot bc I feel like he'd also be pride aligned! Purple is now the pride color :3) and 2 because the yellow tone in his fur is kinda meant to connect him to Husk in a way... Cuz that's kinda his main color... Idk maybe I'm onto nothing with that one BUT his primary color is purple and Husk's primary color is yellow(ish)! Complimentary boyfriend's!!! Are you seeing my vision!!!!! (Also on a lesser note his colors look more similar to my fav version of Angel aka his design from the pre-pilot ref sheet I showed)

Another idea you can thank Cryptamen for is him being partially translucent in places just like real goldenrods!!!! The idea behind that was because he was in the mafia in life and he had to be really stealthy at times so now in certain environments he's harder to see... Maybe he can even turn fully invisible for a bit... There's also possible character reasons to consider tying in there as well... Ough very cool idea 10/10

Gave him 4 legs and 4 arms + the big abdomen to really make him scream spider bc yes spider boys can be hot and no Viv was not willing to CAPITALIZE on that 😒 Also lengthened his fangs... Also moved his eyes to his forehead to make them more prominent and hopefullyyyy seem more like eyes. Idk. And now he's got pointy little pedipalps as well!!!

Gave him his boobs back bc he deserves them and just generally gave his body more shape (though the second set of legs definitely helps lol). Slightly de-twinked... But not by much...

Once again looked up some common hairstyles at the time and people loooved their hairspray and curls, or swoops, or waves— they were gettin funky with it. Hard to emulate that on his nonhuman skull so I took some artistic liberties applying ideas from common styles onto him.

Didn't do much research at awl for his clothes... I mean... He's not wearing much to begin with... I kept the long gloves bc I thought they had potential to look cute and I have him rolled cuffs on short sleeves. Wanted to keep the style simple but otherwise I would've drawn button clasps keeping them in place. No notes on the thigh high heels so I kept them. Everything else is just kindaaaa whateverrrr EXCEPT THE NECKLACE. Though it was hella funny and fitting

And that's awl folks.... Do u like him do u fuck with him.... Let me knowwww....... Okay byeeee ✌🏾🧍🏾‍♀️

[thatskynews]

Imagine this...

It was Traveling Week of February 2021. TGC dropped the news showing the silhouette of the TS of the week. It was the Respectful Pianist from Season of Rhythm, known for their duck mask and winter piano.

Fast forward to Thursday, the time has arrived to meet the duck! However, there was a slight problem...

That is not the duck.

And this was the beginning of the story dubbed by yours truly as The Duck-Crab Incident.

Back then, seasonal spirits were not in their area unless they were the TS of the week, so you got hundreds of post-Enchantment players rushing to the Ark to nab the crab walk emotes and their cosmetics before TGC can fix it.

Hours later, the duck got their rightful place and everything goes back to normal, right?

Well, not really... Because in the next TS announcement, TGC just outright announced who's the next one instead of the silhouette guessing game.

And it was the crab.

Though iconic it might be, it wasn't the first time a switcharoo of Traveling Spirits happened. The first recorded switch was with Sassy Spirit, who was replaced with Dismiss Spirit due to the difference patch versions of players.

And after the Duck-Crab Incident... Twirling Champion was suddenly replaced by Earth Prophet. And again, TGC has to announce early that the Prophet is the next TS. History repeats itself as they say lol - Anxy

[glocksglory]

#sxiestbackeva

_ You have a slim, tiny, feminine back that curves in, resulting in a form that resembles a gorgeous hourglass shape. The sides of your back are so concave and curve inward so prettily. You have a concave, cinched, slim, dainty, snatched, toned, feminine, victorian corset-like, winx-like, worryingly thin, malnourished-appearing, tiny, microscopic, sexy, tantalizing, hypnotizing, admirable, aggressively small waist and back. You have a waist and back that is extremely and significantly slim, slender, feminine, cinched, skeletal, lengthened, defined, hourglass-shaped, tiny, toned, concave, and curvy; there’s no denying it! Your back always appears tiny, narrow, and small in-width from any angle and any lighting. You are completely immune to love handles, muffin tops or back rolls no matter what you eat! You have an extremely visible slim, tiny, and pretty back that shows when you wear shape-hugging, open-back clothing and crop tops. You have a highly sexy, contoured, and defined back. Your back is so tiny, defined, and slim that it looks like you’ve worn the tightest professionally tailored corsets for 1111 years.

_All the fat cells from your back have been beautifully transferred to your hips, butt, and thighs. Your ribcage shows from the back with every movement because of how fatless and fat-free your back is. Your back bone structure and spine is so easily visible because of how little fat you possess on your back. You are permanently free of having any fat distributed to your back no matter what you eat, You literally have no back fat, it’s actually crazy. How’s ts even possible? You have zero fat on your upper back, mid back, and lower back. You never have any back rolls no matter what position and/or angle your back is in. It is impossible for you to ever gain fat on your back because your body simply doesn’t distribute fat there. You’re immune to being called “big-backed” in its literal definition.

_Your back is graceful and elegant, its curvature like a gentle wave that beckons one to marvel at the beauty and harmony of nature. Your back skin is smooth and clear curving gracefully around your back, showcasing a flawless back profile. Every aspect of your back's perfect proportion, harmony, symmetry and balance is a sight to behold. Every line, ever contour, and every angle of your back is perfect. Your back is like the finest silk, gliding sinuously with each graceful curve and subtle movement. Each twist and turn of your back is enticing and alluring. Like a river, sweeping across the plains of a verdant valley, you glide smoothly and effortlessly. Every movement is a symphony of fluidity and grace. Your back is a work of art; your smooth curves and soft lines blending into an exquisite tapestry of feminine elegance. The silhouette of your back is elegant and sensual. Your curves and lines evoke a sense of grace and beauty, as if captured in a painting. Your back is sleek yet alluring, a sight to provoke and captivate.

_You look so good from the back, it’s insane. Your back profile and silhouette is so captivating and screams “fuck me”. Mfs wanna fuck you from the back so bad because of how mf sexy your back looks. Really got these mfs fantasizing about how it would be beating your shit from the back. Such a pornographic back that's laced with seduction. You could arch your back so deep while laying down. 90 degrees ain’t even nothing forreal! You a whole contortionist in this bih! You have a sexy, perfect back arch. Your back remains arched while receiving backshots no matter what and people describe your back arch as the best they’ve ever seen, just like a cat.

_You possess an extremely inhumane flexible back like wtf… it can twist and turn in any direction. So much so that you are able to perform back walkovers, scorpions, back bends, bridges, and back handsprings with ease. You're able to hyperextend your muscles, joints, and soft tissues in your back with no pain or harm whatsoever. You have amazing spinal flexibility, mobility, and fluidity with a wide range of motion. Further prompting you to easily move your back side to side, or forward and backward. Your spine is flexible and can bend and stretch without any tension or pain. The muscles, joints, and soft tissues in your back are elastic and strong. You have healthy ligaments, joints, muscles, fascia, tendons and fibrous tissues. Your spine is like that of a snake, gliding effortlessly.

_You have a completely healthy and aligned spine. All of your intervertebral discs, the joints, muscles, bones, vertebrae and nerves in your back are perfectly healthy, position, and support your spine perfectly. You have a healthy spine that is medically in perfect shape. You have the best posture known to mankind. You have elegant, beautiful, straight, perfect, fixed, attractive, feminine, alluring, appealing body posture. You have a mathematically perfect lumbar curve. You have perfectly aligned neck joints, shoulders and knees. The disks, joints, soft tissues, nerves and your spinal cord are perfectly healthy. You always have a tall & straight posture while sitting, standing and walking. You exude irresistible confidence while walking and doing anything honestly. You always have the perfect posture for standing, sleeping, sitting, walking, and swimming. You're always standing up straight and tall. Your shoulders are always relaxed and rolled back. Your belly is always pulled in.

_You have deep back dimples in your desired placement, shape, size, and depth. Your back dimples are scientifically and genetically symmetrical, balanced, proportional, and harmonical in shape, size, position and depth. Everything about your back dimples is so sexy and exactly how you desire. Your back dimples are so gorgeously pronounced and eye catching. Everything you do is an automatic stimulus to make your back dimples more accentuated, defined, and prominent.

_You have an extremely defined deep backline. Your back line is so gorgeously pronounced and eye-catching. Everything you do is an automatic stimulus to make your backline more accentuated, defined, and prominent. Your back line is visible from up close or far away. Your erector spinae is so strong, further accentuating your deep backline. Your erector spinae is so defined, well-built and prominent.

& affs for the sides of your waist/abdomen to simultaneously get narrower with your back.

back anatomy & other reference pics

[sproouts-jpeg]

one piece strawhats post-ts redesigns part?? idk technically like 1.5? we’re going backwards hell yeah!!

part 1.5: roronoa zoro (finally!)

i was originally really inspired by @deadbutnostink ‘s zoro fanarts! i love their style and trans goth zoro is the best thing ever!

this was the first planning sheet i ever made so it’s really plain without much elaboration sorry, so i’ll do that here:

gothic, traditional japanese clothes, samurai armor, and pirate attire is kinda all built with lots of layers, but zoro will literally throw off his coat all the time just to fight shirtless, so i think he’s the kind of person that prefers light clothing. so i tried to use as little layers of clothes as possible. but now that i’m looking at the finished drawing, i think oda also intended that to show off his chest scar as much as possible, which is much more difficult to see in my design.

i feel like i’m getting off topic lol. so the mihawk influences and darker moody color palette is supposed to evoke the gothic gloominess of kuraigana and its inhabitants! zoro’s waistcoat has a brocade and standing collar like mihawk’s coat does, but with a thistle and wisteria pattern. In an sbs interview with robin’s japanese va, she was asked her what flowers she associates with each strawhat, and she assigned thistles for zoro. in a later sbs, oda was asked the same question for the supernovas, and assigned wisteria for him. i thought it was a cute detail lol. there’s also swirls in the brocade like on perona’s pre-ts shirt and an arrow-ish design on the sash like her post-ts dress

i wanted to add more overt perona references, but she’s very hyperfeminine in contrast to zoro, so i’d just imagine she painted his nails (but only on the condition that he at least learn how to do so himself)! his waistcoat is supposed to basically hit 3 birds with one stone (hehe threes): gothic, piratey, and traditional japanese style. cause gothic clothes in many subcultures are based off the more lavish clothes worn by nobility in time periods like the victorian era and other european eras before/around that, but stereotypical pirates tend to wear many of the same pieces, like frilly shirts, waistcoats, and coats with pauldrons, but of varying quality due to lower class and criminal status. the general silhouette of the sleeveless waistcoat, much like how the original green coat is like a kimono, is supposed to be reminiscent of a full length sleeveless haori.

zoro was originally supposed to wear haidate, japanese armor pieces worn over the thighs, so that with his haori and hakama pants his look would be reminiscent of samurai, but i ended not liking the extra bulk it added to his look. i considered giving him tabi boots instead of combat boots, but i think the combat boots add to the alternative vibe i’m going for. the gray garment worn under the waistcoat isn’t really a kimono, cause it’s cropped at the hips and with rectangularly constructed sleeves so that they can be rolled up, so i think it’s closer to a jinbei/samue. samue are also commonly worn by zen buddhist monks, like the mala beads that zoro also wears (inspired by @/jojodreamie on twt’s future strawhats au zoro design). apparently the people in shimotsuki village, his hometown, are shown to be buddhists. so even tho zoro is pretty much atheist, or at least agnostic, i think he just keeps beads and stuff as more of a cultural practice than a spiritual one.

i tried really hard to give him a more different realistic body type that suits his training/fighting styles, instead of just that really dehydrated jacked look. idk anything abt anatomy or muscle building or sword fighting, so this is all speculative (and i’ll still say stuff with complete confidence :D). zoro’s strength as a swordsman mainly seems to be focused in his upper body: shoulders/upper back and arms (maybe chest idk???). but with the way he fights with big sweeping swings he needs good strength in his thighs and core for stability. this reminds me more of discus athletes. the way he trains though, is weightlifting, which focuses much on those same muscle groups, but in a different manner focusing more on the back, core, and thighs to build bulk and endurance. so i kinda combined the two?? idk if i did it too well even with my references (i’m afraid of looking at pictures of shirtless dudes lol /hj)

i also gave him an unnecessary amount of scars, but knowing how reckless he is in battle i’d imagine he has a lot of scars around his hands and arms. and it looks cool. his skin tone is closer to his pre-sabaody color palette in the anime, but with the bright green hair of the post-sabaody anime, and the darker olive green roots like opla mackenyu zoro. idk why i gave him those arrow shaped eyebrows, ik i saw some fanart on twitter that inspired it, but i don’t remember it. his nose is also wider and supposed to be a kind of round bulbous shape that’s flat at the front, so a bigger nose shape like koushirou’s “roman” shaped nose.

and now some closeups!! i really like how he looks without the haori too!! but without the big green coat it’s not really reminiscent of the original look so i can’t keep it that way :/

i hope y’all like it! as the poll results show, i’ll be doing usopp next! or maybe i wont and go entirely based on my whims lol

[elyfonart]

hii id love to hear more about your pre-ts germa au!! do you have any background info or premise stuff youd like to share, or maybe smth about the character designs/outfits from your comic? -fruityumbrella

ohhh im so sorry but you're really going to regret asking me about the outfit choices !!!

I think the biggest and most obvious change is the zoro germa clone uniform - as funny as it would be to see him run around looking like a goon, i think a really big appeal of the germa au style - and also something i personally love - is the knight look! its awesome! zoro looks awesome in it! I didnt want to really stylise the armour however, because as genuinely fun as it would be to spend hours on it, i both know that'd drive me nuts for comics, and i also dont really see germa as the kind of nation that goes for these kind of intricate designs over blunter looks - especially when we see how their castle looks lol, not exactly the most impressive of designs.

so for zoro, the actual individuality in his outfit is the germa 66 symbol (self explanatory), the stripes (for me stripes = zoro, spirals = sanji), and the colours - something i love doing is dressing characters in complimentary colours of each other or something the other is wearing - i think it works really nicely, and here, im hoping it serves as kind of an easter egg that the more purplish tones of zoros outfit actually match the yellow-ness of sanji's hair, especially when the outfit overall is so dark and dreary.

the one whos design i really really loved creating was sanjis - similar to zoro, i did go with a simpler look than i could've for convinience's sake, but i added a lot more little details that kind of signal to what sanji's character and story is - because obviously in this universe, a lot is told from zoro's perspective so we dont have that direct insight upfront.

i think sanjis original WCI outfit is already quite telling of his situation - the red is too vibrant, the shirt too loose and doesnt fit right, and its overall really just not sanji, which i really like. however, i prefer to focus on the constrained aspect more than a looser look - in my design, sanjis shirt is too tight, hes got this slim knee-high boots, and most importantly, hes covered in ropes and a big golden sash. I really wanted to incorporate this bondage-esque design into sanjis outfit, both to draw attention to the royal gold's hes forced into, and the overall prisoner look - i dont think you can really tell unless you're looking, but sanjis knees are actually tied together, somewhat limiting his movement while still maintaining the style present in the rest of the outfit - i was really suprised Germa didnt do anything about his legs at any point since they're such powerful weopans and only held his hands hostage when i first watched WCI, so this is what I would've done lol! also i just wanted him dressed like this. for personal reasons.

i also wanted to overhaul the look to have a more historical vibe to match zoro's knight design, so i took inspiration from royal/noble Prussian silhouettes with the knee high boots and very sanji-like waistlines, while also adding a sash and aiguilette-esque belt - as well as adding to the rope look, an aiguilette is often used to denote an honour, and here sanji's cut the ends into a knife and fork as a tiny rebellion where he can :)

I definitely have more for the other characters upcoming but I'll be here for like a month straight if I start talking about all that!!! Thank you so much for your ask you're a star !!!!

[s7arcr0sser]

some of you who have unfortunately seen my earliest posts here probably recognize this, i'm reposting it since... well i totally redrew buzz! it's been a while and i just couldn't stand the original, so i went back to fix it. or. tried to. idk the end result is kinda meh

ᯓ★ more versions and rant below the cut ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

i still want it to be like a combo between the ts/ly/blosc versions but at the time i didn't know what to keep and what to remove. that, combined with the fact my proportions suuuucked totally erased the silhouette and the slick y2k vibe of the blosc suit, which is honestly perfect and should've guided me from the start

the idea that the suit can glow is cool so i still headcanon that that's what the yellow button is for (that's actually half canon since it is in the game, just not the show lol)

i'll be completely honest i'm not proud of this at all lol, idk why i just can't draw buzz lately and it's driving me nuts, so much so that i was debating even posting this, but i've spent so long on it that now it will feel like a waste of time if i didn't. overall I'm making this post just for me, as a marker for how much i've improved, etc., because it definitely isn't as bad as the old one (please don't go looking for it). i was thinking about doing it with older posts too because i swear even glancing at them physically hurts me lol, but this debacle kinda encouraged me to stop looking back and just focus on drawing new stuff that i'm actually proud of. which is positive too i guess!

[sstar-ggirl]

The Lights shine brighter when you’re there.

Pairing: Alex Turner x AFAB!reader (but u can read as wtv u want)

Word count:1081 (this ain’t a blurb ts a fic atp😭💀)

Summary: filming for TBHC, 2018 era, super cute fluff shit

Mars rambles abt things: AIGHT SO I NEED THIS MAN TERRIBLY BAD. ESPECIALLY TBHC ALEX😭. Anyways I wrote a cute little fluff fic for the first time in forever bc I had time(FINALLY) anyways I’ll try to write as much as I can.

The set was abuzz with anticipation as Alex Turner prepared to film the music video for his latest album. Surrounded by a team of producers and filming crew, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for this particular project. The album was a supposed to be “a playful tune, super smooth but makes you feel expensive”he said when you asked about it. It carried a personal touch that resonated deeply with him – and he had the perfect person to share the screen with, his girlfriend, you. His most prized possession, something he wants to show off forever.

As the cameras started rolling, the set was transformed into a mesmerizing, eye catching jazz bar. The director, recognizing the unique connection between Alex and you, aimed to capture not just the essence of the song but also the genuine emotion shared between you two. The first scene unfolded in a dimly lit but well decorated jazz bar, the air heavy with the lingering notes of the melody.

Alex, dressed in his signature 70s style, met you in the center of the set, dressed in a tight black dress with a long slit in the side, black heels with gold accessories. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, a silent agreement to let the music guide the movements. As the haunting notes filled the room, you two moved with a fluidity that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection. It was more than just a regular dance; it was a dance of the heart.

The director, observing from behind the monitors, couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry on display. The raw emotion conveyed through his and your expressions painted a vivid picture of love and longing. The first scene wrapped, leaving everyone on set with a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

During a break, Alex and you found a quiet corner to steal a moment away from the commotion. You two shared a deep hug and kiss, acknowledging the magic that was created by you two. As you two broke from the kiss, Alex couldn't help but express his gratitude for having you by his side.

"(Y/N), you brought something special to this video, in fact this whole album – something only you could inspire. It's like the songs, the lyrics, the melodies come to life when you're here, or at home or sitting in the studio waiting for me to wrap up. You are truly the muse for my art." he confessed, his eyes reflecting sincerity.

You grinned and blushed, "Well, I happen to think your music brings out the best in me too, Alex. This is a great masterpiece in every sense."

As the day progressed, the scenes became more diverse, each one telling a different chapter of the song's story. From a rooftop overlooking the casino to a dimly lit jazz bar to the pool setting, the couple seamlessly transitioned from one setting to another, their connection intensifying with each passing frame.

The highlight of the video was a sequence where Alex and you found yourselves dancing under a canopy of fairy lights. The soft glow accentuated the tenderness in your movements, creating a visual poetry that mirrored the song's emotional depth. The crew watched in awe as the couple moved through the enchanting scene, your silhouettes etched against the twinkling lights.

As the day drew to a close, the final scene approached. The director wanted to capture an intimate moment between Alex and you that would serve as the emotional climax of the video. The setting was a quiet, candlelit room – a metaphorical space where their love could unfold without any distractions. A safe haven that hides all troubles and shows your true self to eachother.

The room was adorned with vintage furniture and flickering candles, casting a warm glow on as you two stood face to face. The soft strains of the song echoed in the background, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. The director, satisfied with the day's work, whispered instructions to the cinematographer, signaling the start of the final scene.

With a subtle nod, the cameras began to roll, capturing the delicate nuances of the couple's expressions. Alex gently reached for your hand, his touch conveying a silent reassurance. His eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside the set ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, immersed in the emotions the song evoked.

As the lyrics unfolded, Alex sang with a soul-stirring resonance, his voice intertwining with yours in a beautiful harmony. The vulnerability in your eyes told a story of love, heartbreak, and the unspoken promise of togetherness. The director, realizing the magic happening before him, chose to let the scene unfold organically, without interrupting the flow.

The room seemed to disappear, replaced by a realm where only your emotions mattered. Alex's thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. Your closeness spoke volumes, transcending the scripted nature of the scene. It was a genuine moment, an unfiltered expression of the love they shared.

As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, the director called for a cut. The crew erupted into applause, acknowledging the authenticity and beauty captured in that final scene. Alex momentarily pulled out of that intimate bubble, shared a knowing smile, proud of the art you two had created together. You couldn’t stop staring at him falling deep in love within each second.

With the filming wrapped, the couple found themselves outside the studio, bathed in the soft glow of the evening. The air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled in the distance. They walked hand in hand, reflecting on the day's journey.

"I can't believe we did it," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and exhaustion. Alex grinned, "It was magical, wasn't it? Having you by my side made it even more special. You’re really a present full of surprises aren’t you"

Later on, after leaving set, you two continued to stroll through the quiet streets, savoring the post-production bliss. The city seemed to have slowed down just for them, allowing them to relish the shared triumph. The music video, a testament to their love and collaboration, was destined to become a visual masterpiece.

Days later, as the video premiered to the world, fans and critics alike were captivated by the palpable chemistry between Alex Turner and you, (Y/N) (L/N). The comments flooded in, praising not only the song but also the genuine connection that elevated the video to a realm beyond ordinary music visuals.

In interviews, Alex and you shared snippets of their experience, emphasizing the organic nature of the collaboration. The music video, now a symbol of their artistic minds, resonated with audiences on a profound level, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watched it.

As the applause echoed and the views skyrocketed, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. His journey- no Your journey together, from the studio to the screen, had not only produced a beautiful piece of art but had also strengthened the bond between eachother. The music video became a cherished chapter in your love story, a visual representation of the magic that happens when two hearts beat in perfect harmony.

[winterwhisperz-blog]

Hello!! I don't know if your TS head-canons still open (sorry if not) but can you make TS head-canons about MC almost dying? Like almost killed by souless, the curse is getting worse, almost died because someone stab them? Is your choice btw~ if you can't do it it's fine~ and sorry for my bad grammar, English is not my first language 🙂

(been craving come ANGST this day-)

Hi hi !!! They’re still open yes! I’ll have em open for awhile since I love doing these 😭 tysm for the ask !!

(I’m sorry for taking so long btw, writer’s block has been beating my butt)

I was only able to do three of the Li for now, since I was writing so much my tumblr was beginning to glitch so UHMMMM I’ll have to do a part two !! :,)

ALR LES GET INTO IT

The Lis Reacting To Mc Almost dying (P1)

Warnings: Angst,mentions of death, blood, violence, please proceed carefully if any of these may trigger you !!

Notes: GN MC, creative liberty, not proofread

Ais

Oh dear, NOW THIS WOULD BE SAD

Let’s say you were out at night, just heading back after spending time with Ais. Your head still humming with thoughts of his smile, his voice, and how he always makes you feel.

You get lost in the thoughts for a bit, forgetting your surroundings as you pet Princess goodbye.

The streets are foggy and cold, masking anything in the dark as harmless silhouettes.

You don’t notice until it’s too late—

Hot breath on the back of your neck, the growl of some unearthly shadow

A soulless, large and already dripping with blood—you leap forward just as its jaws slam shut

You’ve been in this situation before, you know what to do— you run

But it’s dark, and the moon, as if she’s just as afraid, flees fully into the horizon. Freezing you in pitch black.

You don’t see the rock in front of you, and fall face first into the bloody swamp of the wasteland.

You reach out, trying to both get up, to escape— to fight.

But it’s pointless, you’re trapped. There is no way out.

There’s pain, a scream, and you drown in the dry, suffocating dark.

The last thing you hear is a blood-curdling roar before ice encases your body, forcing you still.

….

Hesitant red light splashes across the lids of your closed eyes, a dullness like a soaked blanket over your form.

A low hum reaches for your ears, sounding faintly familiar. Comforting in a way that urges your chest to loosen, for your mouth to release sharp breath after breath.

But while the hum sharpens into a voice, so does the dullness into pain

The ice that had been embracing your body bursts into scathing fire, burning through your skin and sending a scream from your lips.

Something soft envelopes your legs and sides, a warmth that slowly soothes the pain. Something smooth comes to rest over your brow, a palm—a thumb gently caressing your skin.

“You’re going to be alright, Sparrow, breathe.”

You know that voice, and something about it makes you rest. Allowing the pain to slowly be smothered.

Opening your eyes, your vision clears to see a pair of red eyes and horns. Ais.

He’s the one caressing your forehead, the other wiping blood and sweat from your neck. There’s another figure working beside him, tall with sparkling eyes. Kuras.

You can see he’s bandaging you up, a bucket of blood-touched water sitting on the faraway counter. You’re laying down on a table—the same table from your first time in Eridia.

When the pain has finally vanished completely, and you’re fully awake, Kuras checks up once more on you before leaving you with Ais.

“What happened?” You mutter, trying to sit up and having Ais’ arms hold your back as you stumble.

“You were attacked by a soulless. Princess tugged you back—and I brought you to Kuras.”

The way he’s speaking is a little odd. It’s stiff, like he’s holding something back. His eyes darker, skin pale with lingering fear. “Ais?”

At your words, he brings you into an embrace. Taking a deep breath as you fall against his chest. You wince a little, and he loosens his grip. Though refusing to let go.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and neither do you.

Next time you spend the day with Ais, you’re also spending the night. He’s never letting this happen again.

I like writing angst >:]

I wanted to make it a bit longer but I don’t want to make these too too long

Leander

Hehehehe okay okay >:) so so so

You’re out in the middle of the day, the streets bustling and loud

The Sun, surprisingly, is out and showering the city with light and heat

Your bandages mixed with sweat ??? Not good not good

You weren’t prepared for it being hot today, especially with how cold and dreary Eridia usually is. And seems like, no one else was either. But the vendors are not letting it go to waste

They reach out for passersby’s, shouting and presenting the catches of today, along with an array of different trinkets and materials

You can’t help be a little curious, but once you stop in the road, people crowd by, bumping into you and sending whirls of panic each time.

You don’t notice that one particular shove scrunches up the bandages on your left arm.

Annoyed at the contact, you huff, preparing to just forget it and come back tomorrow—

“Ah, you there!” One of the vendors have spotted you, and without a care, they reach for your hand. Your left hand.

“Care for a… a…” they trail off, eyes losing their energetic glow. You know that look—and you look down to see their hand clasped around your bandages, palm brushing a cut in the protection, skin on your curse.

Your whole body goes numb in panic, and you quickly wretch your hand away, hiding both under your cloak. But it’s too late, it always is.

The vendor ducks their head, bangs obscuring their eyes as they clench the sides of their booth— veins pulsing under the skin. Then they start to laugh.

Your world comes crashing down.

Strangers don’t notice anything amiss, even as the laughing becomes maniacal. Or if they do notice, they only walk along faster.

The Vender lunches for your neck, taking you to the ground in a puff of dust. You slam hard against the road, hands clawing your throat.

If you how to fight, you manage to get them off, if you don’t, you shout for help, slamming your hands against the vendor in an attempt to shove them off.

The heat of the day blares against your eyes as you struggle.

(If you got him off thanks to your ability to fight, you knock into a few others, accidentally brushing against enough that you UHHH get outnumbered by people inflicted by your curse)

Things start to blur, limbs begin to weaken, and no one dares to help.

Of course, until someone does.

“Hey, get off of them!”

Bursts of air flood back into your lungs, hands coming to lift you up and drag you away.

“Die, die, die die die die!”

(This is really creepy if you fought him off at first and got outnumbered- just a bunch of crazy people chanting at you like this what the heck 😭)

You want to cover your ears, to block out the noise, the familiar, gut-wrenching voices that have followed you everywhere and refuses to leave.

Tears stream down before you can stop them as you run, barely noticing it was Leander who saved you.

You don’t take in the comforting coolness of the Wet Wick as Leander leads you inside, closing the door behind you. You barely hear his voice as he guides you back into your room. You only distantly feel the brush of his hands wiping away your tears.

“Mc… Mc? Can you hear me?”

You don’t answer for a long time, and only do along with a weakened sob.

“I’m a monster.”

There’s a silence before Leander gently starts to unwrap your bandages— you pull back instinctively.

“No, no- I can’t. I can’t.”

He pauses momentarily, fingers lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Mc, you aren’t going to hurt me. I told you I would be there for you, and I am.”

Something about how he says it makes you nearly believe it. You stay still, allowing him to continue unwrapping your bandages. He lifts your palm to his cheek, leaning into you.

His free hand coming to softly caress the golden lines on your skin.

“You aren’t a monster, to me.”

Afterward, the crazed person(s) were silently taken care of. Those who witnessed too closely, bribed to turn the other way.

Kuras

OKAY OKAY SO

I think it’d fun going off of that Kuras tour thingy where we spot him coming back from the wastes

We know he goes there, and now you’re determined to find out exactly why

So one day, without his knowledge, you venture out there, following him.

He’s fast, even more so than usual since he thinks there’s no one he needs to keep pace with

The day is quickly fleeing, your energy slumping entirely on the boost of curiosity

Your feet are becoming heavy, eyes collecting the dust of the waste so you occasionally wipe at them. But the second time you do so, you look ahead— seeing nothing but emptiness in front of you. Only the thin line of the fading light falling on the horizon.

Kuras has disappeared.

You’re alone—too far from Eridia to make it home before night

The cold can sense fear, gripping onto your throat and making your heart shiver under the skin. Shadows are watching you, whether they be soulless or…something else

You don’t want to call out, not exactly ready to face Kuras’ disappointed stare.

And still…you came out here to find out where he was going. Why stop now?

Swallowing your nerves, you plow forward.

Kuras couldn’t have gotten too far—you would spot him again soon. And once you figure out what he’s doing, you’ll never venture out here again. You’ll go home and put your curiosity to bed.

But the more you stride, the more the stars look like eyes, the cold becoming bites of teeth on your face, the wind a voice warning you to go back.

You start running without meaning to, the wind becoming a howl on your back.

Before you can stop yourself— you shout.

“Kuras!”

Something morphs in front of you, something dark and wicked

A soulless, you think. A foul, horrible soulless that doesn’t scream like the others. It stares at you, watching. Knowing you can’t go back now.

You reach hurriedly for a weapon, you know well enough to bring one always, but something stops you from using it. There’s something about this soulless—it has a mind of its own.

You heard of these types before, the ones that weren’t just mindless monsters. But you weren’t prepared to come across one—alone.

Shivering with panic, you watch as it prowls closer—and opens its mouth to swallow you whole.

The cold wraps itself around you, and just then you snap out of your daze to use your weapon. You didn’t expect the beast to be stronger.

It takes you down, forcing you to stare up at the hollow, but knowing eyes.

It opens it’s mouth, and laughs.

It lowers to rip into your throat— but it never reaches you.

A flash of golden light shakes the night, a blaze of warmth that burns your eyes and forces you to turn away.

Waves of heat pulses like an army of heartbeats, the wind turns into the mighty flapping of wings. Fear, joy, terror, elation— it all floods into your veins as you’re bathed with holy light.

There’s a screech, then a bang

You turn your face to gaze into the glow, seeing only a silhouette of something large and ancient before it all fades into a man you know well.

“Kuras?” You weakly mutter as he kneels beside you, cradling your thrumming head onto his lap.

“Be still, MC.”

You expected those words from him, the polite comfort of a doctor. But what you don’t expect is a kiss on your forehead, the voice of someone so calm to shiver with slight fear, longing.

“I have you now.”

If it was said by anyone else, it would sound like a generic word of support, but said by Kuras, it was an oath. A prayer of a priest who promised themselves to God.

OKAY THAT WAS RLLY LONG- I apologize- I just love Kuras a lot

Anyway !! That’s the first batch :] ! I hope you enjoyed !!!

I hope you have an amazing day, see a butterfly, eat lots of good food and have your favorite song play first in shuffle !! 🫶

[foxes-that-run]

The fortnight MV is clearly about TS and HS writing songs about each other. The pink and blue fumes from the typewriters, the style MV cave formation by the letters....TS thinking she is going mad playing this game. Think post is a stand in for Harry with his tattoos. It's crazy that she was so blatant about it with the style reference! But it's awesome too

I agree the upside down asylum looks like Harry’s house:

the blue/pink from the music they write is reminiscent of the two ghosts visuals where the blue poured out of Harry and mixed with pink:

The paper cyclone references the lyric in loml but also the paper plane confetti in Out of the Woods on the 1989 tour and false god performance in green on snl:

And the style silhouette:

There’s a blank space in the typing

The phone booth is like the hour glass in karma

In the paper swirling scene Taylor holds her hand and post slowly does, not getting there before the camera cuts. At the end he gets out of the box and reaches up and then are finally together. It’s his move.

The phone booth is a recreation of a second of Harry’s album covers, the first with a song about Taylor on it

[dollwrites]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 — 𝐫𝐮𝐢 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), this is a darker fic, dub con for a bit, drug use ( LSD ), voyeurism and exhibitionism, Tsukasa involvement, suggested Kaito x reader too, very small amount of RuiKasa, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ i haven’t written in a while so i may be kind of rusty. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

“Rui, something’s wrong —“

why was everything so loud? even the way he pants, his swollen lips parted and hovering inches from your face, the moans that slip free as hot air fans the apples of your cheeks in furious, little puffs— that shouldn’t have been audible over the blaring carnival music that washes around you, but you could hear every break in his breath. you could pick apart his vulgar whimpering, and you thought you might even be able to trace each note that lives within it with the tip of your finger, if only your wrists were not bound with what felt like silk ribboning, you would. due to his candy obsession, his warm breath usually tasted of sweets, but this time was different. the scent of sugar clinging to his tastebuds was so intense that you could taste it on your own.

“Nothing’s wrong, darling,” Rui assures with the shape of his mouth brushing over your countenance. he leaves a wildfire of sensation in the wake of his soft tiers, allowing them to dance over the tip of your nose and tease your mouth, that chased them. “Everything’s perfect.” your head had been swiveling, trying to look past the blinding, rainbow lights to try and decipher where you were. it didn’t look like Rui’s room anymore. in the center of the room, you were suspended in the air ( you only recently realized this when you dropped your head back and found yourself dangling helplessly, jostled in tandem with Rui’s fervent pounding into your guts ), but if you try to follow the slithering silks that coil around your arms and legs, you find they disappear into an abyss— there was no ceiling.

what were those silks connected to?

how were you being supported, exactly?

“Oh, you feel good…” he purrs, biting down on his lower lip hard, passing a sultry whine through his teeth as he savors how your body feels from the inside. “Yes, yes, yes…” he always got lost in you, reveling in how tight you clamped around him, and the way your recoiled in response to his pounding.

then, as your hazy eyeline scanned every inch of the environment, you spotted an audience. once again, however, beyond the chairs and silhouettes of their heads, you could see not a single detail. you knew they were there, because you could hear them. gasping, laughing, cheering.

this wasn’t happening.

you were going crazy.

“I think you gave me too much…” you mewl, curling your toes, but it did little to relieve the pressure Rui was forcing into your body. your head rolls, heavy on your shoulders, and you look back up at him. maybe if you focus on him, you thought, you could get control of yourself. but Rui didn’t even look like Rui. had he changed clothes? you’d most certainly have remembered if he’d met you at the door in a three piece suit and a black top hat balancing precariously askew on his head. it was as if he was part of this world you saw swirling around you, this wicked circus.

“F—fuck, Rui I’m seri— serious—“ you were groaning, though, panting with vulgar delight because it feels so good. Rui had always been a phenomenal lay, but it was always miles better when the two of you were tripping; it was like his fingertips were made of electricity, sending an unbelievable voltage of pure pleasure everywhere they touched.

and usually, Rui was good about measuring out each hit to make sure you could control your trip, but this time was different. at first, you’d looked at your dose and thought it wouldn’t be so bad. but everything got weird when his friend, Tsukasa pulled out his phone. “T—turn the lights on,” you beg, closing your eyes tight. “I—I need to come down.”

“Shh, shh, shh…” Rui croons, both, gloved fists wrapped around the ribbons that bind you. he used that leverage to pull you into his thrusts so he slammed home harder, smacking his hips into yours when he bottoms out, and you cry out loud, clenching your fists. “You’re missing all the lovely sounds,” he mewls, a cherry tint on his cheeks. his golden gaze had been blown out by pitch black pupils, so when you squint and try to meet his eyes, you’re sucked into the depth of his desire for you. you open your mouth to speak, to reiterate your point: you wanted this trip to be over, but his warm fingers clamp over your mouth, muffing your plea, and your eyes widen, “I want the others to hear how wet your sweet, little pussy is, too.”

the others?

for a moment, you’re perplexed. you could only remember that Tsukasa fellow. your eyes dart behind his left shoulder, and catch the two figures. Tsukasa and… someone else. a taller man, perhaps a year or two older than Rui. he has his hands clasped together in front of him, and his head cocked to one side. his features are surprisingly soft, as if the sound of your body squelching and your muffled whimpering is a beautiful symphony and he was listening intently.

you didn’t recognize him.

when had he shown up?

Tsukasa, on the other hand, was staring with big eyes and crimson cheeks, his eyeline jolting back and forth to the rhythm of Rui’s rocking hips, and you realize he must be watching his friend slide in and out with every thrust. he looks hungry.

“Rui, didn’t you promise Tsukasa something?” the other one asks, knowingly glancing to Rui, who doesn’t deny it. “So long as he brought your guest here?”

Rui snickers, glancing over his shoulder, and you do the same, staring at a very flustered Tsukasa. “Well, you certainly won’t be able to touch her from all the way over there.” you blink, bemused, and grip the silk restraints, arching your back— you want to bring Rui’s attention back to you so you can shake your head, give him a signal to let him know that this was not something you were agreeing to, but when he looks back to you, sees you shaking your head, he coos, “Ah, don’t worry! I’ll teach him how to play with you the way you like.”

everything happened way too fast.

from Tsukasa stumbling over, staring at your body with blown out pupils, grasping one finger of his glove in his teeth to pull it off as his other hand reaches for your breast. the black silk is warm when he gropes a handful of you, hard and needy.

“She’s soft, right?” Tsukasa is already nodding, agreeing with him before the question fully leaves his lips. Rui giggles, grasping his friend’s bare wrist once the glove is discarded and guiding his hand between your legs. “Wait until you feel her cunt. Her plushy, little clit is just like a moan button.”

in this moment, you hated that Rui knew exactly how to find it, because he pushed Tsukasa’s thumb against it, swiping skillfully to guide his clearly less experienced friend into the rhythm he knew would drive you crazy, resting his chin on Tsukasa’s shoulder to stare at you from behind his golden tendrils. Tsukasa’s eyes widened in awe as you whimpered into Rui’s glove, your eyelids slitting. the pad of Tsukasa’s thumb was rougher than Rui’s, and it scraped in just the right way to have you reeling.

“See?”

“Woah…” Tsukasa stared, rubbing harder. Rui can’t help but let out a strangled moan, because you were clamping down on him, throbbing.

“Keep doing it just like that,” he breathes heavily in Tsukasa’s ear, encouraging his friend, “She’s clenching like crazy… She likes it.”

you couldn’t even pretend he was wrong, either. your thighs were trembling in their binds, your eyelids fluttering, your head falling back. Rui allows it to, releasing your mouth and you expel a loud, flustered yowl, “F—ff—uck!” you no longer cared about coming down, or even minded that they hadn’t cared whether or not you consented to Tsukasa’s involvement, wanted him to touch you.

now, you didn’t want him to stop.

“M—more,” you whisper, back arching as you squirm, “more, more. C—close…”

Rui’s hand seeks out your throat instead, gripping it to hold you in place so he can plant his feet and drive himself into you in erratic, happy thrusts. he squeezes, crooning as his eyes threaten to close, too, but they remain, heavily lidded and hazy, on you. “Ah… Tsukasa, you’re going to make her cum!” Rui exclaims through heavy panting, “Don’t stop yet, she feels so tight!”

Tsukasa didn’t seem like he had even considered stopping. gritting his teeth, furrowing his brow, he leans over you more, desperate to watch your face contort in pleasure, while his fingers work furiously at the same, rapid-fire pace against your twitching clit. had you been sober, you might’ve even moaned and asked if he played the piano, what with how precise his fingering was, but you weren’t. not even close.

you gurgled and wheezed out pathetically adorable moans as Rui choked you harder, teasing your windpipe to experiment with how much pressure it took to make you sputter, as he fucked every, single lingering thought out of your head.

“Cum for me,” Tsukasa whimpered, needy, as he buried his face in your breasts to suck on them. he didn’t mind that he and his friend were in a game of Twister, entangling with one another in order to both touch you, but Rui didn’t either. he’d allowed Tsukasa to worm in between his body and yours, so long as he didn’t break the join at your sex, and Rui’s chin digs into Tsukasa’s shoulder. you can even see, blurry when you lift your head, his teeth sinking into Tsukasa’s neck every so often, as he allows a moan to vibrate against his flesh. they were both so close to you, both tethered to you. “Please cum hard for me!”

it made you dizzy.

“Cumming…” you croak, and Rui tightens his grip. he must be, too, spurred by how your walls milk him.

“Say my name,” Tsukasa begs, his strumming never once wading up, “say— say that it’s for me…”

“I— I’m cumming for you, Tsukasa!”

that was all that you could muster before you completely unravel into nonsensical babbling and yipping, and writhing. it feels good, so good you’re overloading, and your nails claw at the silks coiled around your wrists.

Rui follows right along behind you, releasing your throat to grasp himself and pull free from your depths so he can slot your folds around his girth as he cums, rubbing his cock between them, his release leaving your sex stickier, and smelling of him.

Tsukasa heard your soft, nearly coherent plea for him to ease up on your hyper sensitive nub, and he obeys, allowing his fingers to dip downwards and gather Rui’s release from between your nerherlips on the tips of his digits. he slides his first, two fingers inside of you, biting down on his lip to muffle a sordid moan when your walls spasm around the new intruders.

“Do you still want to come down?” Rui teases. he’s come around to squat down so he’s face to face with you, petting your hair back before peppering your temple with sugary kisses. you shake your head, weakly.

this world, whether it was a figment of your trip, conjured by too many drugs working overtime in your system, or it really did exist inside of Tsukasa’s cellphone like he claimed, had taken its toll on you, but you no longer cared.

you’d given into the euphoria, and you were enjoying it now.

Rui giggles, his mouth traveling south to kiss your cheek, and then the corner of your mouth, before you finally turn to catch his lips in a passionate lock. you can only hold it for a second before you need to catch your breath, and Rui’s tongue glides along your parted lips. “You want to ride it out? Be a tough, little cookie?”

you nod, smiling, cumdrunk and filled with too much pleasure to turn it down.

“She agreed, just like you said she would.” the mysterious man who’d been watching had moved closer, running svelte, gloved digits over your trembling ankle in butterfly caresses, and hummed, pensively.

Rui beams, nodding as he kisses your mouth, “Mm, I know my girl fairly well. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“More, please…” you whispered, softly, “I want to cum again…”

Rui chortles, and looks up at Tsukasa, still smitten with your sex, and, voice like a bell, croons, “Don’t worry, my little marionette. Tsukasa is going to have you now. And then, Kaito here, will do the same. You’ll be so fucked out by the time you come down, you’ll be a trembling, drooling mess.” Rui swoons at the thought, his smile wide and mischievous, but you mirror it with an entranced, lazy simper, nodding happily to each word. “And I promise, you’ll never want to leave from right here once you’ve taken all three of us.”

[kimbapisnotsushi]

here are some more miscellaneous post-ts headcanons but this time we're not going pro teams we're taking a walk on the side of your average working adult let's go!!

okay let's be real do we REALLY think lev is in charge of his own social media accounts bc i feel like that's a dumpster fire waiting to happen

i'm going to say yes because it's funny as hell

he tweets things like "lol i worked with [insert older veteran actor here] today i had no idea he was such an asshole" and gets frantic phone calls from the pr team like three seconds after posting

his instagram is also full of like. really blurry casual pics and just doesn't look professionally curated at all but the fans love him for it

i'm actually super curious as to whether he gets typecasted a lot and if so i'd love to know what it is

i want to say goofy comic relief side character?? so when he gets selected for a serious drama role nobody is expecting him to blow it out of the water but he does!!!!!!

also another thing lev does that gives his pr team a heart attack is when he posts anything vaguely related to his love life. which funnily enough are the only quality non-shitposts he does himself

like you've got the aesthetic silhouettes against a wall, the hands intertwined on a candlelit table, the vague tweets of "so lucky to wake up next to you. wish it would never end <3" and everyone's going WILD trying to figure out who it is

(and, well, nobody is going to notice shibayama yuuki liking the posts amidst all the other pro volleyball players who do, right?)

shirabu's got a rep in med school for having the worst fucking bedside manner of all time

well not really i think he's like. the kind where fellow/older colleagues and such judge him for it and they think that he could stand to be a LITTLE bit nicer but if he works with kids or whatever i bet the kids would actually really like him.

he's dry and straightforward and calm and takes them seriously and treats them like adults. the only thing he does to baby them is dumb down the medical jargon into an explanation they can actually understand

ugh shirabu actually makes me really soft for what an asshole he is

oh but if you're a bitch ass bastard for no reason he'll try to be as snarky as he can be without like. getting reported to hr or whatever

sorry i know this probably isn't how medical professionalism works irl once again i just think it'd be really funny

also can i just say that i think it's the funniest fucking thing that komi became an actor. like where the hell did THAT come from

i feel like he got thrust into doing a role for a class play during cultural festival season and got hooked on it probably? because literally when else would he have the time to get into/practice that kind of shit

that's probably a fun fact he drops during a magazine interview or something LMAAAAO

"yeah volleyball practice took up most of my time, and i never really thought about doing anything else. but then things changed in my third year of high school when i got cast for cinderella . . ."

speaking of fukurodani. yukie and kaori my beloveds

i skipped out on them during my managers post which i regret deeply and dearly so here they are!!

full disclaimer i don't know how sports promoters actually work i'm assuming they promote whatever sports games they are assigned instead of just sticking to one sport only? which means that whenever kaorie gets her hands on something that isn't volleyball she gets a dozen texts from bokuto moaning about betrayal and treason and all that

when kaori gets with someone she meets through work (so someone on a pro sports team) the rest of fukurodani are like "okay but he's a BASEBALL PLAYER" as if being a baseball player is the most atrocious thing a person could be

kaori's like "guys come ON i told him all of you were cool!" and everyone's like "now why in the world would you tell him that"

yukie has a decently popular cooking channel that is loved not for her yummy recipes or her aesthetic filming but because none of her kitchenware matches

she just collects whatever she likes + a bunch of shit that's been gifted to her and while it should make her kitchen look cluttered it's all just very cozy and lived-in

like. all her pots and pans are different colors and themes. no pair of chopsticks are the same. she has a ladle shaped like a dinosaur and a teapot glazed with magnolias on the side

her recipes DO slap tho she and osamu collab a lot

UGH i love them living nice fulfilling adult lives i wish that were me

[of-worms-and-fibers]

Wrong Body

Shinya and Tsunagu get hit by a body swap quirk and Shinya HATES it Fluff, Angst with good ending, comfort, trans Shinya, ask Word count: 1100

„Shit, Edgeshot?!“

Jeanist cursed, looking for his husband on the battlefield; in one of the most annoying fights of his career. None of the villains were particularly dangerous, just a group of pranksters with annoying quirks that did nothing but pose semi-mild inconveniences. Hell, calling it a “battlefield” felt ridiculous, it was more like a circus. Some of the heroes were stuck quacking like ducks while others had been made to dance the macarena. It would have been almost funny if the group hadn’t been so active lately, bothering civilians greatly. 

“Jeanist, I’m here!” 

The other called out, and he hurried to where the voice had come from; finding Edge fully alright, albeit a little annoyed looking, among a small group of more heroes who had managed to avoid getting hit by any of the quirks so far.

Jeanist breathed deeply in relief, going to hug Edgeshot briefly; too slow as the rest of the group shouted a warning and jumped aside; a fuzzy shiver ran all over his body, and when he opened his eyes; he wasn’t sure what was wrong at first. He felt the same, didn’t dance or make strange noises. 

“Oh my god Tsunagu-“

Edgeshot exclaimed, and hearing his real name in a battle situation like this could only mean bad news.

“What is it?”

He asked, but immediately noticed what it was; his voice didn’t sound right. Now that he thought of it, his body didn’t feel right. Jeanist almost didn’t want to do it, but he slowly patted his body down, feeling his hips and chest to be far softer than they were supposed to be. In a panicked motion, he reached for his hair, relieved that at least that hadn’t changed. And so he returned his gaze to Edgeshot, who was clearly a lot less calm about it; screaming silently on the inside while uncomfortably tucking at his clothes, trying to cover up the silhouette of his body; a body Tsunagu had seen, years ago, before Shinya’s transition.

But there was nothing for now that could be done about it. Gang Orca sent them home, to see if the quirk would lift overnight and so the two could do nothing but obey his suggestion.

“Okay. We’re physically girls now. We have to stay calm. Why is my voice so annoying?!”

“Welcome to my life.”

Shinya replied bitterly, wrapping a blanket around himself. Clearly, he wasn’t happy with the situation and sensitive to everything about it. Tsunagu brought the dinner, sitting down by the other’s side: 

“You know it doesn’t change anything to me right? You’re no less of a man, even if this predicament is making you feel dysphoric again.”

He said, sitting a bit away from the other, knowing how uncomfortable he was right now. Shinya didn’t eat much at all, and it worried the blonde:

“We should still have your binders, right? I don’t think we got rid of them. I can look for

them, but you need to promise not to wear them to sleep again.”

Shinya merely nodded, and with a kiss on his forehead, Tsu disappeared into the basement. An hour passed, then two until he finally came back:

“Sorry, I got distracted by old clothes. Look at this dress I found!”

He said, showing off a pretty dress he used to wear a lot. It looked even better with his hopefully temporary, more feminine features and he felt gorgeous. Two binders were promptly dropped on Shinya’s lap:

“I sewed little ninja patches on.”

A small smile finally crept on the grey-haired one’s face, which was quickly replaced by tears and a hug; this wasn’t a new sight. But one neither of them had expected again. After hormones and surgeries and a lengthy social transition, they had thought it was over. But of course, life was cruel. It always was with the job they’d taken on, but this was beyond any of that. This wasn’t about getting hurt or dying. This was so much more personal, to both Shinya and himself.

It felt like a setback of years and years of progress and it… frankly, it hurt. Tsu knew that he wasn’t the one having any right to feel hurt, but he did, because he knew he couldn’t do anything but assure and reaffirm his husband. Husband, that’s what he’d always stay no matter what anyone could ever do or say.

“I don’t think I want to have…”

The ninja enthusiast started but Tsunagu just shook his head with a soft smile:

“I know, we don’t have to do anything tonight or until this is over. Don’t you worry about that at all. I’m sure it will be over soon.”

It wasn’t over soon. A week passed, then two, and the two of them were getting increasingly worried. Visiting Kugo a lot, and a quirk specialist who couldn’t tell them more than 

“It’s probably temporary.”

And probably wasn’t good enough. So the panic lasted for a whole month until one morning, the blonde was startled awake by a sudden scream from Shinya, who had come back early in the morning from a night shift:

“I’m normal again!”

With a quick pat down, the blonde assured himself of his own return to normalcy and breathed out in relief. He went to the bathroom, where the love of his life stood half undressed by the mirror.

“Oh thank god. I did like the hips though.”

“Your hips were the only good thing about this whole ordeal. Ugh, I thought I'd have to go through hormones and surgeries again I am not not showering for a week again!” 

Tsunagu laughed, finally able to cuddle Shinya again, after a whole month of needing to be careful about it to not make him uncomfortable:

“Haha no never again. Glad to see your smile again, I missed it.”

He said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face to cup his cheek; the gleam in his eyes was back. The confidence. The smile. The relief. It was all too wonderful to see. He was wonderful to see. Handsome and happy, how he was meant to be. 

“You’re the most beautiful man on this planet, do you know that Shinya?”

“Oh? Strange because I always thought you were.”

They laughed, deeply in love with each other. As they calmed down, only a small chuckle remained as the grey-haired man found his passion to joke again:

“Ryukyu is going to be so disappointed.”

“Oh yeah? She should be happy I’m even sharing you my little worm~”

With that, they continued getting ready for yet another day of hero work, as if nothing had happened, with a refreshed acceptance of whatever it may bring. Because at the end of the day, no matter what could happen, the most important thing was that they had each other.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

i have never known a silence (like the one fallen here)

Summary: An Isami POV of the events of Episodes 1 & 2, exploring the impact of his experiences, and the stark disconnect between Bravern's perception of their genre and Isami's lived reality.

WC: 1000

A/N: No spoilers for later episodes — full fic under the cut for canon-typical depictions of violence.

“You know you’re only making this worse on yourself, right?” The man’s face swam back into view, jovial, sickening. “Damn, you’re a stubborn one.”

He shook his head, leaving afterimages flowing behind it disorientingly. “Ah, well, I get paid by the hour, you know.” A wink, tossed at Isami as much as the man’s fellows.

Isami stared at him blankly, tears running from his eyes and mingling with the snot dripping from his burning nose and the bile flooding his throat. He’d… he’d told the man everything he knew, given him answers to every question. So, why? Why were they still doing this to him?!

His lips parted, rounding with the barest puff of precious air behind them, his vocal chords frozen and unable to serve in the final advance. The man leaned in for a moment, then straightened up again, his eyes curving into a congenial smile. “Ah, see, that was almost something! Just a bit more encouragement oughta do the trick.”

Isami shook his head weakly, trying to focus on filling his lungs through the heaving, desperate gasps. In the end, it proved as futile as every other attempt. The water would force its way relentlessly in, and in, and in, and he would still have nothing to give, nothing to make it stop.

As he sank beneath the surface, a green, grinning face gleamed down at him, callously observing his descent.

—

“... Isami! Isami!”

Isami’s eyes pulled blearily open, refusing to focus for a long moment. Who…?

The blurry figure before him resolved into that American – Smith – and Isami’s heart leapt. He nodded fervently along to whatever the man was saying. He couldn’t hear it properly, but he could grasp enough. Smith was here for him, for Isami. Maybe Isami had finally managed to say the right thing? Maybe he had borne it for long enough to prove he was telling the truth. His mind shied away from the thought of just how long he might have been down here, in this windowless, concrete room.

No matter. No matter. Smith was here for him.

—

The elation lasted for as long as it took Smith to manhandle him into the humvee, and the sounds of doomed combat to mingle with the echoes ringing around Isami’s mind.

Cold waves of sick terror washed over him as he caught sight of the recognizable red and white figure before him, striking a foreboding silhouette against the sky.

They… They wanted him back in that thing?

He scrambled out of the humvee well before Smith had even brought it to a stop, a keening moan scraping its way out from his throat. He tried to make it around the paltry bulwark of the vehicle’s back, but his legs gave out from under him before he had managed more than a few steps. He stared straight ahead, eyes vacant and unseeing, as Smith made some sort of proposal to the thing. Its scraping voice rose in a resonant rejoinder — and then flattened, abrupt. Isami shivered, the sound summoning the sense-memory of metal shearing away from him like paper.

The creature turned back to him, then, the weight of its regard settling upon him like so much stone and rubble. He would be rendered blood and broken bone beneath it soon enough.

Its metal hand swung forward toward him, outstretched, as its voice rang out in booming entreaty. He reacted on reflex, mind dull and sluggish, lifting his own hand to push it away from him, as though his effort could be anything but laughable against its devastating might.

As soon as the skin of his hand touched the unnaturally warm and utterly alien metal, he was back there — and backing away from the burning wreckage of Rio’s TS, her struggles growing weaker as virulent pink subsumed the field and filled their vision.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Snap out of it!” He heard to his side, a rustle of starched cloth heralding Smith’s movement. Isami scrabbled back further, away from the both of them, his arms raised above his head in paltry defense. His breath came in heaving gasps, and the clear flow of air – not water this time, not water, not water – did nothing to assuage the tide pulling him under.

He’d been drowning since that first battlefield. The interrogator had merely formalized it.

The – robot – stared down at him for a long moment, the sunlight gleaming menacingly off of its brilliant exterior. Isami was reminded of a quiz the cadets had taken together, to get their minds off of training one day in the mess hall. “Ahhhh, Isami, it says you’re a fox! How cool!” He’d brushed it off then, but perhaps there was something to it, after all. He understood, now, why an animal would bite through its own limbs to escape imprisonment. He’d do more than that to keep himself free of that thing.

In the end, however, foreknowledge and determination proved insufficient to escape the trap a second time. Isami found himself in the same place that this nightmare had crystallized, suspended within an alien chamber, his limbs moving without conscious command, and words he did not know springing to his lips. With flashes of slaughter and devastation at his heels, he withdrew into himself, leaving the fight around him behind. Clearly, his body could manage well enough on its own.

Something pulled taut behind him as he delved — stretched first tenderly, then achingly, and then agonizingly. He did not relent. Anywhere – nowhere – would be better than here, and he pursued oblivion with the determined focus he had made himself known for in every training exercise. At last, at last, he passed some blissful threshold, and the tenuous connection to the world beyond frayed to barest thread, easily ignored.

If that creature wanted his body so badly, Isami supposed it was welcome to it. His mind, however, he would keep right here, for as long as he could manage it.

Forever had a certain ring to it.

[metalheadcowboy]

Turning a Harringrove Cowboy/Farm AU I wrote A LONGGGG time ago into an actual multi part/chapter fic, so here's the first part, enjoy!

-----------------------

It was the spring of '84 when Steve Harrington first decided he hated Billy Hargrove with every damn bone in his body.

The beginning of that spring had been particularly rough in many ways. 

Steve's second senior year of high school was going quite a ways away from great, it seemed like no matter what his old man was pissed off about something or another, the calving season had only just started and it was going straight to shit. Oh, and on top of that, it was hotter than a witches tit outside, a record high in southern Indiana that year, great.

"Gah lee," Steve huffed as he fell flat on his rear, wiping the sweat off his forehead, with the part of his arm that wasn't covered in cow crap and god knows what, "That 'as one big son 've a bitch." The force of his collapse knocked his Stetson hat clean off, but he was quick to recover the rather expensive item he’d received for Christmas not too long ago. 

He slowly collected himself, pushing the medium tan leather down upon his dark, messy waves. He couldn’t help but blink his eyes a few times as he practically panted like a dog to will any form of cold into his body, "Yeah, 'll least this one's livin'," his dad remarked, and he couldn't disagree with that. Seemed like they'd had more still born calves than live ones this season.

" 'Ts only March, we've got a few months," The teen reminded, manifesting at least a shred of hope for the coming weeks. It wasn't that they didn't have calves other times of the year, they were just few and far between. Now was the time when they started raising a good sized herd to sell of at the beginning of next spring to support them most of the year round, besides the practical penny change they made selling their cows milk local, "Good job, mama," he praised the brown and white blotched animal next to him, already akin to new motherhood, licking her almost identical oversized calf like she knew nothing else.

Steve willed himself up off the ground onto shaky knees, this day had been one of his longest in a while. School on top of all the heifers seeming to want to calf at the exact same time. But as he looked past their property line, out into the marvelous bubblegum pink and creamsicle sunset, he found some sliver of peace.

Only the voice of his father snapped him out of his blissful moment of zoning out, seemed like he was doing a lot more of that lately "You best go wash up 'fer dinner, you know your ma ain't gon' have you at the table lookin' that way." He was right and Steve knew it, but he couldn't lie, a hot shower did sound pleasant on his aching joints.

He gave a quick "Yes sir," ending what was probably the tamest conversation they'd had in weeks, before making the short, yet long trek back to their homestead. He could see the lights on in the kitchen and living room, and as he got closer he came upon the silhouette of his mother washing her hands in the kitchen sink in the small window next to their side door.

He trotted up the last few stairs, smiling as he walked through the door to someone just as happy to greet him, "Well, look what the hot mess express brought in, my word sweetie," she said with no real malice, grinning at him like he was her pride and joy, which he was.

"Hi mama," he replied plainly, chuckling softly as she came over and pulled his nearly six foot frame down to her 5 '2 height for a kiss on the side of his head.

His chuckle turned into a full chested laugh when she made a fake gag of disgust, "You smell just 'bout right rank, son. You sure the heifers weren't the ones hackin' it up at your stink?" she teased and Steve just shook his head.

"Had my arm so far up one of 'em I'm prolly 'bout half cow any how," The brunette boy mimicked the struggle sticking his arm up the back end of a cow, to which Annette Harrington grimaced, "That's why I let you boys do your thing and I do mine," she gestured to the kitchen, which is what first alerted Steve to the smell of freshly made chicken pot pie sitting ready on the ceramic countertop. 

His eyes immediately lit up with pure delight, like a kid on Christmas morning, except he was nineteen and to some sad extent pot pie was the highlight of his week, “Mama you didn’t!” he exclaimed, about to go in for a big hug before remembering what he was covered in. 

Mrs. Harrington just shook her head, “Alright, go get cleaned up, the pie ain’t gon’ grow legs.” Within an instant Steve was racing off to his bedroom to grab a pair of pajamas and then to his bathroom to shower. 

And to say he was right would have been an understatement. Steve swore the hot stream of water that cascaded down his spine sent him into seventh heaven, easing out his jammed knee and stiff elbow with ease. 

He enjoyed his escape for about as long as the hot water lasted, a mere few minutes, but that was long enough for him. When he stepped out of the shower he shook his hair out like a wet dog, letting the towel he scrubbed his head with next catch the excess. Shortly after, he grabbed the comb up next to his sink, swiping the steam off the mirror to give his unruly mop a good brush through before quickly throwing on the pajamas he had grabbed prior. 

Steve practically burst through the bathroom door, following the promising scent of dinner, blatantly stopping in his tracks when he found something that was definitely not chicken pot pie. 

“Oh, Steven,” Oh boy, “We have someone we’d like ‘fer you to meet.” The smile on his moms face was sickeningly different from that she had on when welcoming him in from his chores. A lot less genuine and a lot more plastic, but still warm in the way it always was, it was just her nature. 

Steve didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking in the atmosphere, his parents, that boy. He would be lying if he said the golden-haired figure standing between his folks didn’t look straight out of one of the magazines he’d seen the few times they went into the city. 

Striking icy blue eyes, rimmed with lashes that damn near put any woman’s to shame. Thick brows somehow shaped to perfection, lain a top skin so perfectly sun kissed and freckled with intent. Steve had to force himself to shake these thoughts, knowing how damn stupid he must have looked gawking like an idiot. But that didn’t push away the confusion he felt as his heart seemed to pick up at the statuesque mystery man standing before him. 

“If they’d ‘a told me we were having’ company I would’ve thought to dress a ‘lil nicer ‘n this,” he remarked, cheeks burning a bit with embarrassment, feeling almost stark naked in his pajama pants and plain white t-shirt. He huffed out a short breath when the guy in front of him gave him a rather unconvincing pity laugh, parents following suit, “Ain’t no skin off my back, ‘m sure we’ll see each other in worse,” the radiant boy replied, once again leaving Steve baffled, but maybe that’s just what he did. 

“Names Billy by the way, Billy Hargrove” the boy- Billy extended his hand for Steve to take and he did, taking the few steps forward to give his hand a proper shake before returning the favor, “Steve Harrington, pleasure’s mine,” he replied simply with a short nod of his head. 

His father seemed pleased enough by this interaction, though Steve could never really tell, he always had this sort of stone cold thing going on. 

There was a beat of somewhat awkward silence before Annette interjected, “How about some homemade pot pie?” she offered, with a prompt clap of her hands, sending her boys and their guest to the dinner table. Normally Steve would have been beaming, ready to talk and talk and talk about anything and everything under the sun, but suddenly he wasn’t exactly in the mood. 

“Well, Billy we really are glad to have ya here,” Mr. Harrington continued in the tone he only used around guests or, really, people he was trying to impress. The sickeningly sweet, layered on false happiness and enthusiasm that made Steve’s stomach hurt, “Yeah, ‘ll y’know my old man’s been rearin’ to get me out of the house since the second I stepped foot outta school,” Hm, so he was older, “Since I graduated early ‘n all, couldn’t happen fast ‘nough.” The lanky boy nearly spit out his water, choking in an awkward way to where it came halfway up his nose and made his eyes water. 

Steve coughed it out a bit before bringing his napkin up to his face, watery eyes of shame blinking themselves dry, “Y’ alright there cowboy?” Cowboy, Steve looked up at the smirk on the other boy’s face and had to hold back a sneer. The last thing he needed tonight was to get into it with his dad while they had company over. 

“ ‘M fine, thanks,” he mumbled, feeling the short- lived rage in his stomach settle when his mother brought the meal over just in time, “Shall we?” she chimed in a sing-song tone, that wasn’t anything like his fathers, hers was genuine. Because if there was one thing about Annette Harrington, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body for anyone, unless they messed with her family. 

Steve tuned out the prayer, forehead pressed solidly against his hands clasped so tight his knuckles were about ghostly white. He was just wondering when this Billy guy was going to leave so this night could be over. But of course, just when the brunette thought the topic might change, of course, even after the prayer, his father, John, had to dwell. 

“I’ll say that’s right impressive, y’know Steve here’s held back a year, he’s ‘sposed to have graduated by now, but,” Mr. Harrington shrugged as he dug into his dinner. His son sat there halfway gobsmacked, halfway offended, but he should’ve expected such. 

Steve scoffed, “Only ‘cus you got me doin’ half your work every day. I barely got time for anythin’ else,” he mumbled under his breath just loud enough for the table to hear as he stared down at his mashed potatoes. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his fathers eyes boring into his skull like laser beams. 

Steve’s mom just looked at him with a disappointed expression, but didn’t interject because she knew good and well it was true, “ ‘F that’s whatcha really think ‘n you’ll be happy to hear you won’t have to do it no more.” Steve’s eyebrows practically shot up his forehead and through his hairline. 

What the hell was he talkin’ ‘bout?

“Huh?” Was all he could manage before his dad excitedly cut off whatever he was planning to say next, “Well what else do you think we got Billy here for, looks?” This gave everyone but Steve a good laugh, he didn’t see any reason to be laughing right now. 

“ ‘N just what ‘o you mean by that?” He was so blinded by anger that he couldn’t even think about eating the pot pie his sweet mother had made, but he’d get over that guilt. He couldn’t say the same for the fury burning deep within him. He looked over at Billy who looked smug as ever, chewing on a bit of his food, sneaky eyes peeking out of the rim of his rather ratty looking Resistol. Oh what he would give right now to punch that smug look right off that pretty boy face. 

John Harrington gave Steve the look, his signature look that said ‘I dare you to go testin’ me, boy’ and if there was ever a time for that it would be now, “Steve, you’ve been slacking lately ‘n we both know it, son.” Steve went to open his mouth but got cut off, again, “ ‘N I figured having Billy stay here ‘n work with me ‘d give you the time off to do sumn else. Like helpin’ your mom ‘round the house, you did always seem… better suited for those things.” 

This couldn’t be fuckin’ for real, “John-,” his mom tried to scold. 

There’s no way his dad just basically called him a sissy, not after-

“I had my hand up a cow’s ass ‘fer you today, ‘n then you’re gonna go sayin’ that- that bullshit?” Steve burst, knowing he would no doubt have to pay for these words later. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, not from guilt, not from shame, but of pure, unfiltered rage. But what really put salt in the wound was looking over at Billy, whose subtle smirk had far faltered, turning into something more innocent, more regretful. Like this wasn’t all his own damn fault in the first place. 

Everything’s so unfair, this is so unfair. Not only did he feel hurt, but he felt embarrassed, having his dad say those things about him, basically calling him a sissy, in front of his own mother. 

“Steven-” he heard his father try to reprimand, but Steve refused to take it. Instead, he stood up abruptly, the straightening of his knees sent his chair flying backwards against the wall. He would have cringed at the sound if he weren’t so genuinely pissed. 

He was able to hold the tears in until he turned around, then it was like the dam just… burst. He felt a whine work its way up his throat, but he willed it back down, swallowing what last bit of pride he had left down with it. 

Could a sissy do that? Maybe Steve didn’t want the answer to that. 

He didn’t know what was going on, he’d never felt this was, this upset, this angry. He didn’t understand. He practically glid to his room, socked feet moving so fast he wasn’t sure whether or not he was actually taking real steps. And, frankly, he didn’t care, just wanted to be away. 

When he made it to his room, he closed his door behind him and flopped down onto his bed, stomach down, choking on his own hushed sobs. It made him feel like a child again, pathetic, small, lonely. He turned on his side and curled in on himself a bit, clinging on to whatever little bit of comfort he could. 

Through wallowing in his own self pity, he barely heard the faint mewl coming from behind him. He just groaned, hoping maybe if he ignored it long enough it, or rather she, would go away. 

“Meooowww.” He should’ve known better, it was his fault for locking her in there with him anyways. 

“Oh, Ginger,” he sighed, stuffy nose making him sound all nasally. And it was as if that was the permission the rather plump orange tabby needed to jump up on top of him like he was her human pillow, “Cain’t a man even have a few seconds alone.” To that, of course, she meowed at him in protest, ever the chatterbox. 

Steve quickly accepted his defeat to the tubby cat when she somehow still gracefully jumped off his ribs and onto the empty spot in bed next to him. The pale light of bright stars shining through his window, reflecting off of Ginger’s big round saucer eyes were the only thing giving his room any light. But it didn’t matter because soon after he shut his own eyes, focusing on the purring of the seemingly content cat next to him, half wishing to disappear, half wishing to go back out there and beat Billy to a pulp. Even if only for existing.

Billy, stupid Billy and his stupid white teeth and his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid everything.

Fuck this dinner, fuck this day, and most importantly fuck Billy Hargrove.