#i count 4 hands

[anisaanisa]

Both? Both. Both is good ☆

InuKag for @inuyashapridemonth 🌈

[melioristicbeast]

More of the boys making goo eyes at each other, because it’s what they deserve 💛

I’m really fond of the way just the lines look so you get those as well:

My friend K when I showed her this drawing: damn the man needs a BRA

[a-tato-box]

do you like those aus with the old men stan twins meeting their around 30yr old twin counterparts?

So, I know you were likely asking about a specific fanfic or scenario, but all I could think of was Old Man Stanford reacting to the 30 year old twins and it being that Gordon Ramsey meme.

That being said! I have not come across a lot regarding this particular type of Twins in Time scenario (is that the name for this AU?). It does sound super interesting and full of angst potential, though!

[laurrelise]

prove me wrong: tua s4 was a giant aidan gallagher thirst trap written and created by yours truly steve blackman

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

I drew the. THE SCENE. From Fawx & Stallion.

My chest hurts because I love them so much and that moment is just sooooo hhhhhhhhhhh

Halfway through the drawing process, I realised that Holmes is technically in disguise during that whole conversation buuuuut let's ignore that. XD Also please don't look too closely at anything that has to do with anatomy, and ignore that Watson's looks change dramatically halfway through - let's just say that kiss was life-changing! :D

Some of the individual drawings I'm of which I'm quite proud! :)

[fjordfolk]

puppy fever, might be terminal

[al-luviec]

compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)

meh HoT gifs (3/?)

[pines4thetwin]

As promised, here's that fusion post for the three people that asked for it (drops it and runs).

Ford thinks of himself and Stan as one, an extension of each other, and lowkey hates that its not true nor possible.

And Mabel really shouldn't have shown him Steven Universe because now he's obsessing over the concept of fusions and his desire to be one with stan.

Now lets say this is Pre-Weird and everything is still tense between them and they aren't exactly talking but despite that ford still wants to be close and he knows stan does too.

He can see it in the broken resigned looks Stan keeps throwing his way. And listen, Ford isn't the best at communication but he can fix this. He may still be angry and self righteous and an asshole but he can fix them.

So now he spends an even more absurd amount of time in the lab trying to making it his reality and entirely disregards his base needs to the point even dipper is concerned.

He has a journal dedicated to this idea where he keeps all his notes and theories on how to make it possible. Would he have to alter their DNA for it to work or could it be possible for them as they are?

While doing the tests and research for his fixation he remembers a dimension he briefly travelled to back when he was younger and fresh through the portal. One where this concept, his desire, his fantasy, his wish was real. A dimension where it was was their culture, their way of life. And while he did think it was interesting then, he was young and angry and raw with unrestrained hurt. Too emotional to stop and study the practice the way he should have.

He beats himself up over it now. If only he had been thinking more logically him and stan could be one already. They wouldn't have to be so... apart.

He doesn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings though. He has to figure this out. He doesn't know exactly why but he feels like he's running out of time. Like he has to do this now or he'll never have the chance again.

Eventually he has his prototype and it functions well... enough. He just has one more trial to run. Except Stan comes down to check on him. 'Worried ford isn't taking care of himself properly.' or something like that.

And honestly, Stan in his space is the last thing he expects because they have an unspoken agreement. Stan roams above and Ford stays down here. And when they cross paths they both look the other way.

But stan is here and yes Ford is annoyed at first but this also means he doesn't have to go seek stan out.

"I told you to stay- wait actually this is perfect. We'll do it now," Ford fiddles with his device, turning it on and he really isn't thinking right anymore. He know the device works and that's all that matters.

"Do what now? Stanford, what is that," And Stan is kinda terrified because Ford looks... well he looks kinda like how he did decades ago when he had sent that postcard and Stan had come running because well, its Ford.

Ford looks insane, primal and unhinged, like he hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. And Dipper had told Stan, had been worried but Stan brushed it off because Ford locking himself in the lab and avoiding everybody, avoiding him wasn't a new development.

But now Stan’s worried because that wild-eyed look is directed at him again and the cowardly little animal in him is screaming at him to run.

It’s like Ford knows what he's thinking because before Stan has a chance to decide if he's going to shut down or entertain that scared little animal, Ford is grasping at him and pulling him deeper into the dingy little basement.

Stan trips and he fully expects his back to hit the floor but fords got and arm wrapped low on his back that keeps him from falling fully. And stan's hand is also tangled in fords sweater so even if Ford had let him fall, well they would have gone down together.

But then he catches sight of that thing again and it looks vaguely like a gun and why did he have to get saddled with the insane twin? He doesn't even have time to flinch because a bright light floods his vision and he blanks.

For a second, Stan's mind goes black and there's a strange humming in his ears. But then he hears a laugh he hasn't heard in forever. Soft and joyous and for a moment stan smiles. It's Ford's laugh.

Because he and Stan become one. And everything is warm and bright and as it should be. For a moment everything is right. It feels like coming home.

His-Their eyes open and Ford's confused? No, Stans confused.

"Sixer? Lee?" Their voice says, soft and bewildered. They look around, searching for each other. Stan? Ford? Where did they go? They look down and their vision swims. Four hands, five fingers? Six? It all blurs together.

Is this me, they think as one. Finally as one. Four hands run up the sides of their one body then stretch out for their wide eyes to view. Ford can feel his giddiness rising unbidden. And a whisper from Stan, rising to meet Ford. Uncertain but matching nonetheless.

Finally

Finally together... Finally fixed... Finally right.

They spin slowly, as if that will give them a better view of what they are now, and they catch their reflection in some dim glass. Ford wants to smile but their face drops, eyes horrified.

"What did you do," Stan says, voice a cutting accusation. Nausea erupts in their stomach. And that isn't right. Why isn't it right?

Something is wrong. Everything is so very wrong. Ford's head hurts. Or is it Stans. He doesn't know. They can't tell.

"I fixed it. I fixed us," Ford says and it isn't right either. Why is it still so wrong? Stan is angry. But why is he angry? Why aren't they happy? They're together. After all this time they're finally together again.

Ford can feel Stan pulling away. It's like their mind is splitting in two. Hot searing pain shoots through their head, four eyes closing when the world starts to spin.

Ford grasps ahold of stan and refuses to let go. He can't let Stan ruin this, ruin them. He will not let Stan destroy everything he's worked towards again. They've been apart for so long- too long but not anymore. Besides, this is for them. Stan will just have to understand. They are one now. Broken and wrong but one nonetheless.

"Let me go," They yell, tugging apart furiously. Their shape shifts and distorts but doesn't split. Ford won't let them. They snap back together painfully, stumbling on two bulky legs, one that branches into two feet. Wrong.

"No! This is what we wanted right," their voice bellows, loud and angry and wrong. So very wrong. "For us to be together. Always together."

They grip at their hair as if trying to pull themselves back apart. Stan.

"Not like this. I never asked for this." they shout back, voice sharp and hurt and why aren't they happy now. They should be happy. This is right. This is how they are meant to be.

Even as the anger and hurt courses through their entire being, Ford knows he wouldn't want to be any other way. Stan's angry and scared but at least they're one. They're shattered and hurting but even then some small part burns in them, it's a tiny little ember but it's both of them and it says yes.

Another set of hands reach for the ones in their hair, pulling them out and restraining them. Betrayal spikes, scorching and increasing rapidly even after years of dormancy. Ford.

"Stop being so ungrateful! You're always so-." angry tears spill from their eyes. Decades of hurt and anger and resentment spill forth to mix into a sense numbing cocktail but most of all they feel alone. So very alone. Them.

They grapple and struggle and Ford's device glints from the corner of their eyes. Ford can feel Stan's intent before their body even moves. Being one now, it's like their minds have melded which means Stan knows the device's purpose. And he intends to separate them.

"NO!" Ford bellows, voice priggish and angry, hurt tinting the singular word so strongly that their body stalls. Why would stan- Why doesn't he want them to be together?

"Grunkle Stan?" Their head whips to the left, eyes locking with a confused and tired Mabel’s. Their focus splits, body jerking in an awkward aborted movement as Stan tries to move forward and Ford holds him back.

“Pumpkin grab that- Mabel don't-” And why can they never agree on anything. When did everything go so wrong? 

Flashes of being in this very lab, so long ago- but no, it was before that even.

Mabel stares at them, scared and confused and stan has never wanted her to look at him like that ever. But Ford doesn't register it because for a moment, one split second, Stan stops fighting him. 

They don't hesitate to rush forward, very much intent on destroying their creation before it has a chance to be used against them. To hurt them.

Two small hands wrap around it before they can get ahold of it. Mabel clutches it to her chest, watching them with something too close to fear. They freeze in place, hands raising in surrender.

"Sweetie," Falls from their lips, pleading. For what though, they aren't quite sure. Because their mind, it should be one yet it isn't. It's at odds, fragmented by a fear and necessity that clash so strongly it could tear universes apart.

“Press the green- Don't you dare-” They speak at once, words and thoughts overlapping. Large hands cover their mouth, two others gripping uselessly at wrist that refuse to budge, because regardless of whatever insanity that has plagued Fords mind to make them act this way, Stan will not let their voice- their words even hint at a threat towards Mabel.

Mabel's head bobs, looking from them down to the thing in her hands, unsure of what to do. Stan nods, eyes pleading.

Ford lashes out, angry and hurt and thrashing like a wild dog. 'Stanley please no. Why don't you want us to be-' Stan is retreating, silent and distant. 'Lee. LEE!'

Everything goes dark.

Ford rises slowly, head spinning and ears ringing. He has the worst headache he has ever experienced. He stares at his hands, splayed on the floor. Two hands, six fingers. Wrong.

His head whips up and his gaze finds Stan's crumpled form across from him on the floor. Stan's glaring at him, thick angry tears spilling down red cheeks.

No. No!

His head turns slowly and his eyes fall on Mabel. Mabel who is standing with his prototype in shaky hands looking between a separated Ford and Stan. He... failed. And now they're...

Apart.

Broken.

Wrong.

[kokostarbits]

🌼🔮Stuck with the Soggy Cat🔮🌼

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

Part 4:

🌟💕The Realization💕🌟

Meta Knight had fought gods.

He had flown into warzones, faced ancient beasts, stood toe-to-toe with nightmares made real, but NOTHING could have prepared him for the absolute disarray one reformed cat wizard could bring into his home.

Magolor was currently upside down on the couch.

"Why are you like this?" Meta Knight asked, arms crossed.

"I read somewhere that increasing blood flow to the head boosts creativity." Magolor said, voice muffled by the blanket he'd tangled himself in. "I'm brainstorming soup recipes."

Meta Knight stared at him for a long moment.

"I'm going to make tea."

"Don't forget the one I like!"

"You like every tea."

"Exactly, don't forget it!"

Meta Knight disappeared into the kitchen, and as the kettle began to boil, he leaned against the counter and closed his eyes.

It had been a quiet day. No strange mushrooms. No cosmic mishaps. Just Magolor... being Magolor. Lounging around the house, and humming while he cleaned up the mess he made five minutes earlier. Laughing. Talking.

And something about it all (about him) had started to take up more and more space in Meta Knight's chest.

The way he smiled now softer than it used to be. The way he still rambled, but with less bravado and more honesty. The way he never hesitated to plop down beside Meta Knight on the couch like he belonged there.

Like he'd always belonged there.

Meta Knight poured the tea slowly.

When he returned to the living room, Magolor had shifted. He was no longer upside down. He was curled up under the blanket, ears twitching gently, fast asleep with his head on a pillow and his fingers loosely holding a crumpled recipe note.

Meta Knight stood there for a moment, tea in hand, completely still.

His heart did something weird.

He set the tea down.

Walked over.

Sat on the couch beside him.

The warmth from Magolor's small, curled-up form radiated softly. The room was quiet.

Safe.

Meta Knight told himself he was just going to sit for a minute. Just long enough to rest.

Then Magolor stirred, blinked up at him sleepily, and mumbled, "Mmmh... you smell nice..."

Meta Knight froze.

Magolor didn't even open his eyes. He just scooted closer and (without a hint of hesitation) rested his head against Meta Knight's side, and stayed there.

Meta Knight's entire brain stopped working.

This was fine. This was completely fine. There was a tiny creature nuzzling into his cape and making the softest purring sound imaginable and calling him nice-smelling and why was this suddenly more terrifying than fighting galactic horrors!?

He went to move.

Magolor let out a soft sigh and whispered, "Stay..."

Meta Knight didn't move.

He stared straight ahead at the wall for a solid ten minutes while his heart beat loud enough to summon a small army.

Eventually he let himself relax... Just a little.

His wing shifted to drape over Magolor, light and protective, and he rested a gloved hand gently on top of the little wizard's sleeping form.

"...You're trouble..." he murmured.

Magolor, still half-asleep, smiled against his side.

But Meta Knight didn't pull away.

Not this time.

Magolor shifted again eventually.

Still curled up against Meta Knight, he mumbled something incomprehensible and reached out blindly with one hand.

Meta Knight glanced down just as Magolor’s fingers brushed against his glove—then curled around it.

Gently. Loosely. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Meta Knight’s breath caught.

He didn’t move.

He COULDN'T move.

Magolor’s hand was small, warm even through the fabric, and now very, very firmly holding his.

Meta Knight stared at the tiny intertwined fingers like they were some kind of ancient riddle he hadn’t trained for. The last boss in a game he didn’t know he was playing. His brain was looping one sound on repeat: he’s holding my hand he’s holding my hand he’s holding my—

It was fine. It was perfectly, completely fine. It was just—Magolor was asleep, probably not even conscious of what he was doing. The hand-holding didn’t mean anything... RIGHT???

Except that Magolor’s fingers gave the tiniest little squeeze.

Meta Knight's soul launched itself into the sun.

His wings twitched. His mask felt too warm. His entire body felt like it had been plugged into some high-voltage embarrassment circuit.

And yet… he didn’t let go.

For several long minutes, they stayed like that: one fast asleep, one staring at absolutely nothing with the intensity of someone experiencing an emotional hurricane in complete silence.

Then, finally, Magolor stirred again.

He blinked slowly, sleep-mussed and bleary-eyed, and looked up at their joined hands.

There was a beat.

His eyes widened.

Meta Knight, already on the brink of combustion, immediately looked away.

"I—uh—you—" Magolor's voice cracked. His ears went pink. "Did I—?"

"You were asleep." Meta Knight said quickly, voice a little too even.

"O-oh." Magolor looked back down at their hands.

He didn’t let go.

Meta Knight didn’t either.

"...Is this okay?" Magolor asked softly.

Meta Knight hesitated. Just a breath. Then:

"...Yes."

And for once, Magolor didn’t make a joke.

He just smiled—small and real—and rested his head back against Meta Knight’s side.

"...I... um... actually can't believe you still stayed..." he said, a little surprised.

Meta Knight looked down at him. “You asked me to.”

Magolor paused, then grinned sleepily. “Yeah, but usually you grumble about it and try to pretend you’re not secretly a huge softie.”

“I’m NOT a huge softie.” Meta Knight said immediately.

Magolor raised an eyebrow.

“You’re literally holding my hand.”

Meta Knight looked away, flustered. “You’re the one who grabbed mine.”

“And you haven’t let go.”

“Hush.”

Magolor snorted. A real bright little laugh. His fingers gave another squeeze—playful this time, not sleepy.
It was such a simple gesture, but Meta Knight felt it like a spell.

Magolor tilted his head slightly, studying him.

There was a flicker of something thoughtful behind his gaze.

“Y’know…” he said slowly. “You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t like me.”

Meta Knight froze.
Time stopped. The world stopped. The galaxy stopped.

Magolor blinked, suddenly realizing what he’d just said.

“I-I mean—!!” he flailed, ears flapping, voice jumping an octave. “Not like like like! I meant—like, tolerate! Or, y’know, not hate! Like—friendly-like!!”

Meta Knight turned to look at him. Slowly. Calmly.
Internally screaming.

“…Do you always ramble this much when you're nervous?” he asked, voice low but not unkind.

Magolor immediately buried his face in the pillow.
“I’m going back to sleep...” he mumbled. “This is too embarrassing. Leave me to perish.”

Meta Knight was quiet for a long moment.

Then—

“...For the record...” he said softly, “I do like you.”

Magolor peeked out from the pillow, eyes wide and ears very pink. “…What kind of like are we talking here?”

Meta Knight didn’t answer.

He just squeezed Magolor’s hand, gentle and certain.

And Magolor’s smile bloomed like spring.🌷💕✨

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

Ahem! May I interest you in some more... METALOR!?!? 💕🌷

Part 4 is here!!!!! I CAN'T wait to show you what part 5 is about! I actually enjoy making stories! After this one is done I wouldn't mind making more every now and then. (Along with art of course) 🥹🌷 Sorry part 4 was kind of long 😅 ...anyways - LETS GOOOOOO!!!!

🌷💕🪐🌟✨🌏

[metiredlr]

Wassup w/ Ina11 goalkeepers in orange and their bfs w/ long blue hair and one eye showing

[iloveacronix]

Boutta go sleep cuz my brain be lacking neurons rn but guys PLEASE hear me out

Supportive brothers for life. Also taggin the historyshipping queen @kyokittymeow

[halohearted]

[enniewritesathing]

[wip]

this pose is supposed to have two things, a pillow and a remote. I went with neither as that's more things to worry about. also, you'd think there be more than 1 remote accessory for a TV around these parts. There is not. And it's behind a stupid ad*ly.

*why aren't there more pose accessories as a whole anyway...? guess that's one future thing to learn how to make

anyway, John's more of a skin kind of guy so he likes any sort of contact with Brian. Brian's within that soft head of hair/ear scritching distance. Win-win.

[kaiserouo]

Hi everyone. Any suggestion on what im gonna draw tonight?

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Texts: I don’t like your neighbour. He’s too nosy. don’t come here then Where should we meet instead? Xx … [Wyatt rolled his eyes; he’d be perfectly fine if they didn’t meet again. Emica was a boring, high-maintenance woman who was terrible in bed. Still, it was better than nothing.. kind of] [Before Wyatt could reply, a distant scratching noise distracted him. He sighed heavily, spat in the sink, and headed downstairs] … Wyatt: You’re not coming in. [yowling] Wyatt: No.. go away. [more yowling] [Wyatt tuts, making a u-turn toward the kitchen] Wyatt: Hey-.. have some patience! Wyatt: There, happy now? [The stray cat squints at his dry, tasteless meal.. “happy” was an overstatement. Still, it was better than nothing.. kind of] Wyatt: Gross creature-.. you can bugger off after you’ve eaten that.

[freakartack]