#save the knockers :{

[jizzlords]

❝ so — i'm thinking of getting breast reduction surgery... ❞

[acourtofquestions]

Mort, how are you? We miss you buddy…

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

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

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@dw91165 @jonkwatson @binx72

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[anidiotwithnukecodes]

Need to put a baby in him guys

Very Breedable and submissive indeed

Malewife material

[sol-icide]

‘Lunar didn’t know what to expect when Monty activated the portal to Sun’s dimension. Magic was so rarely used in their world now, so he had done little exploring of other realities—that was more the gator’s domain. He took one last glance around before Monty could usher him and Earth through the portal.

The wooden cottage he called home rested in the center of a floating island, bordered by a deciduous forest and streams of water that cascaded into the vast nothingness below. Several other islands floated nearby, some small and slowly unraveling, others much larger than the one that homed the cottage. This reality still held some semblance of life; the day and night cycle was not completely disrupted, so the wildlife around them continued to survive. That’s how most dimensions looked now—the better off ones, at least.

So when Lunar saw the swirls of violet and mauve pooling in the portal, he knew Sun’s dimension was far worse than his own. Upon stepping into the new reality, his senses were overwhelmed by the scent of water-soaked pine and conifer, but it was the excess of negative energy in the air that made him nauseous. It stuck to him like a wet blanket he couldn’t shake off.

To steady himself, Lunar seized Earth’s hand, who assured him with a firm squeeze. He couldn’t tell whether a storm had passed or was just beginning, judging by the darkened clouds circling overhead. The sky itself was split in two: one half held a burning sun, its flames so vividly tinged with reactive magic that even the creatures below could feel their intensity; the other half hosted a violet ocean speckled with stars. Tendrils of purple energy whipped through the sky, coiling around rocky islands—similar to those in Lunar’s dimension—suffocating any life they might have held. A heavy fog stalked beneath Lunar’s ankles, coating the hilly terrain ahead. If not for the lantern Earth was holding, he would have easily missed the gravel path that snaked up the tallest hill, leading to an almost castle-like mansion.

“I don’t think I have to say this, but I will.” Monty lowered his eyes at Lunar. There was a tenderness behind them despite his solemn gaze. “The magic here is too unstable for us to add anything else to the mix. So keep that lightning of yours under wraps, kid.”

“Monty,” Earth softly interjected. “He knows.”

Lunar returned Monty’s steady look. “I thought we were past treating me like a ticking time bomb.”

“Hey, come on now. You know that’s not what I said–”

“Can we just go?” Lunar looked away from the gator animatronic. “Please.”

The walk up the hill was silent save for the scraping of shoes on gravel. The path grew narrower as the mansion loomed closer, giving way to moss covered stones. Lunar tightened his grip on Earth’s hand as his stride faltered. The negative magic clinging to him made his body feel sluggish and heavy. He tried to focus on the soft clinking of Earth’s lantern beside him, but the farther they ascended the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The tension between the three animatronics lingered in the air.

“Do you guys feel that?” Lunar shivered involuntarily. “It’s like the whole place is alive...”

“And watching us,” Monty added, his broad shoulders tensing. “Yeah. I feel it.”

The air grew thicker, the fog denser, until even the light from Earth’s lantern struggled to cut through the gloom. The dark silhouette of the mansion was sharp against the dual-colored sky, its windows like hollow eyes that followed their every step. Despite the blazing sun to their left, the world seemed to darken as they reached the base of the mansion’s towering doors. Lunar paused, taking in the sheer size of the structure. It felt ancient, as if it had stood there for centuries, watching as dimensions rose and fell around it. Monty stepped forward, thumping the brass door knocker against the hard wood. Lunar’s eyes followed the gator’s motions with bated breath. He braced himself for the person he was about to face.’

A little excerpt from the first chapter! 👀 what do y’all think?

[lesbiantvfish]

not much of a human au guy but human para is too canon to not draw.

((restraining myself with force from drawing human para with huge knockers. I will at least give him some belly here but nothing more………aaauuuug para with ghuge boobes save me. Save me))

[patricia-taxxon]

watcher's guide for michael haneke, from someone who has seen all his features at least twice

first, watch Caché. like you should have done that already if you're even a little interested in film as an artform, it's an all-timer by all accounts and is also quite representative.

then, I need to restrain myself and not just name four or five more films at once because I genuinely believe 50% of them are just complete knockers. but I'm gonna instead point you to Code Unknown, because it's very good and representative of a different type of film this guy does, the loosely connected ensemble cast hyperlink tone poem. These ones can be kind of difficult to get your head around, especially if you're expecting something more conventional. The White Ribbon and 71 Fragments are the others, as well as Happy End, but I personally think that one is best saved for last cus it's likely his last movie and it feels like a fitting closer.

After Caché and Code Unknown you'll be pretty well equipped for the marathon, and you really truly can't go wrong in my opinion, but hit Amour and La Pianiste first if you're still unsure about committing to the chronological hike. Watch both Funny Games's too. Time of the Wolf is underrated. I'll stop before I just recommend all his films again

[larkandkatydid]

I am stressed as hell about this election. I’m trying to do more get out the vote stuff in Michigan (hi fellow Mittenhead!) but I have a sinking feeling it won’t be enough and idk if Big Gretch can save us. How are your campaign activities going?

I mean, I am utterly terrified and I'm genuinely not sure how I'm going to make it emotionally through election night. I will say that I have mostly hopeful expectations based on what I've been seeing, but also that I don't trust my expectations at all, since Trump's 2016 win took my naive ass by such surprise!

That said, because of my job I've been driving all over the rural parts of the Lower Penninsula and here are some positive signs I've noticed that at least people are doing everything they can affect the results: 1)Every highway is absolutely flooded with billboards and I-75 north of Flint, which mainly serves as a way to funnel hunters and fisherman Up North has a "I'm a Republican Gun Owner and I'm Voting For Harris" or some variaton on that message on a billboard literally every mile. 2) Driving from Midland to Mt Pleasant, a pretty traditionally conservative chunk in the middle of the state, I saw a shocking (to me) number of Harris lawn signs in every small town I passed. 3)I went to buy another roll of postcard stamps yesterday and the guy at the counter said something like, "You volunteers are working so hard. I have sold you all so many stamps." 4) when I got home from being gone four days, it was clear that at least 2-3 door knockers had been by. Whatever happens, it just seems very different from 2016 complacency. God willing, that will matter.

[amityahasfanartnowapparently]

That Time Fox's Fat Tits Saved The Galaxy - Chapter 8 - Amity Ax - (INTRO ONLY)

Hello! Chapter 8 is still very very VERY much in progress, but I got inspired to release the first two pages early. Think of it as an early holiday present :D

If you'd rather save it for when the whole chapter is out on ao3, DON'T look under the cut ;)

Also DISCLAIMER: this intro is liable to change at some point while I'm editing everything else. And consider all the tags in my fic applicable to this post too. You've been warned.

DroidBoy6969:

ok, like, I get why everybody is talking about the tits. I really do. don’t get me wrong, they’re great tits!! but that ass needs some appreciation too! Just LOOK at it! the MUSCLES, the ROUNDNESS, the TIGHT AS KARK PANTS—it has EVERYTHING

TallMannSpotted:  @DroidBoy6969 YESSS I want to be those pants <3 <3 <3

whats_love090992:  @DroidBoy69 if this is a non-tits appreciation post, I’d like to give an honorable mention to the arms and back. Hot damn. I want him to pick me up and snap me in half like a 2x4. And that v-line in the front… *chef’s kiss* Perfect. Phenomenal. Breathtaking.

xXx_R4nc0rD3str0y3r_xXx: @DroidBoy6969 get out of here butt boy this is a tit-man only site!!!!

[See 21938451 more replies]

Unfortunately_YourMother:

everyone unfollow me right now this is going to be the only thing I’m gonna post about from now on. fuck. shit. Ohmygawdzzz

kenobis_glistening_abs444:

HUGE W for the war effort that this absolute UNIT be out here serving the people, if u know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )

KittyqueeN:

No joke, I just clocked out for like an hour watching this guy run on repeat. the kriffing bounce is like… hypnotic. Literal drool down my face rn. I can feel the heft of those bonkers in my SOUL

dontlookatme.:

b…boobies…

cock_expert_420001:

Look, I’ll pay any amount, PLEASE more content like this @TheRepublic. I could feel myself becoming roughly 50% more patriotic just watching this compilation

ZDprofessional:

YESSS YES YES YEEEAAAS!!! OHHH MY GODS. OH MY GODDSSS BROOOOO!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ALSDGJDkjfifherALSDGJKHAG GRRRRRR!!!!! GRRRARRAARRRGRGRG! BRGRGRGRaaaAAAAAARRAR!GGRRGAA! I’M CRAZZY IM CRAZY IM CRAZY. YOU HAVE NO IDEAA YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!!! sorry ok. I’m normal now. cool tits.

NautilaRulz:  @ZDprofessional Dude.

TiLeavesComments:  @ZDprofessional somebody get this fine gentlebeing some water. they’re about to die of Thirst

RyurayguYuhahyrrararr:  @ZDprofessional rabies core

[See 103020 more replies]

H00tH00tMutherfarker:

I can’t believe this is real. What are they FEEDING this one to make knockers like that??? He’s got some Enormous Boobs. Absolutely Perfect Pecs. A Rockin’ Pair of Hooters. A Prize-Winning Set of Black Melons. Some Tasty Teats. A Couple of Family-Sized Milk Jugs. Some Bountiful Baps. Some Gorgeous Gazoingas…[read more]

JustSomeGuy:

Listen, I get that everybody is horny about this, but I’d like to say that this trooper is like, actually NUTS. I went back to the OG video and timed it, he was in a dead sprint for like a full HOUR. The next time you’re out of breath climbing the stairs, remember this man’s existence and weep in shame. 

NotMyOrder:

Clones really do be built different…

Drgahamne14156994:

Hello, I’m Dr. Garm Hamne. I’m a doctor from Corellia and earn 600k annually. I’m looking for a sugar baby who…[read more]

TheCommenterrrrrr:

Screaming crying throwing up I need him to choke me

FoShadeDingKing!!:

Damn where do I gotta go to spend the night with one of those

RRoller:

This is fake. You bantha-brained morons are falling for a government plant. This has sphotoshop written all over it.

N3varG0naGiv3:  @RRoller It’s OK bro, just count backwards from 10 while you inhale the copium. It’ll be over in a snap :)

U_Up?:  @RRoller because that’s what I’D do if I was trying to sphotoshop a government-approved thirst trap into looking so good it brainwashes the minds of millions. I’d make the trooper running laps in the back of the vid busty enough to belong in an art museum instead of using editing magic to make the group of buff, sweaty men duking it out in the foreground look like living gods. what a totally reasonable conclusion you’ve come to 

Nvr_Gn4_Letudwn:  @RRoller bruh just grow up and admit you wanna fuck him so bad it makes you looks stupid XD

[See 348079 more replies]

[hellishfig]

just finished listening to episode 34 of worlds beyond number, "something to remember you by," which is the end of arc 3 of the wizard, the witch, and the wild one, and i feel sick from how incredible it was. the physical reactions my body made to some of the words and music in this podcast really took me by surprise. i'm still reeling.

some thoughts:

i'm so happy that suvi is questioning the citadel, her reaction to silver's letter was inspired, and i LOVED her interactions with the quartermaster. she's so clever and intimidating (holy shit that was HOT), but i'm worried about what's happening to silver. i have an inkling that the witches may have already started making moves alongside the man in black, and i wonder how that will affect suvi going forward. and going to try and save silver before returning their "precious cargo" to the citadel... i hope suvi can keep questioning, and that whatever she faces, she doesn't let the justification machine run its course any longer.

eursulon meeting up with tefmet was really cool. i enjoyed the return of the strongest man in silbury immensely. it was extremely funny. and then, when eursulon asked to help and succeeded on his persuasion checks, it was solemnly touching. i love eursulon's power being in steadfast support and protection, and how to him, it's not about opposing the citadel in its entirety, it's about saving spirits, great and small, from those who would use them. and that's something he can do while still protecting his true friends.

ame let the chaos OUT this episode, and it was delightful and nerve wracking and thrilling to listen to. she's very bossy and it's so funny to hear how immediately eursulon goes along with it, despite not knowing what "it" is. growing up watching grandma wren, she seems to have gained a natural authority that makes people who love her listen to her when she asks them to perform innocuous menial tasks. but that's also interesting, because her chaos is focused, if imprecise. she knows what she needs to do and will do it, damn the consequences. as long as she can get away, who cares what she leaves in her wake? that's a problem for future ame.

they stole some brass knockers and a lion! they kidnapped nif to save her from being killed by indri! tof burned bright to free a vrock! suvi heads to war, eursulon and ame TO TOMA! (i almost cried when eursulon said those words and the music swelled. what the fuck, lou. what the FUCK taylor and jared. i'm not okay!!!)

and then of course, brockvale. holly hill. the resting place of sir curran of the hawthorn, who unknowingly sent eursulon on a quest that would lead him to our story. the man in black, the pilgrim under stars, the king of knight, the stranger, holds sir curran's shield. he comes to make an offer. will this poor old guard bid a weary traveler to step over this threshold?

this is why worlds beyond number feels so different to me from other dnd shows and podcasts. these artists have come together with the shared goal of not just playing a fun game that they all enjoy, but with the express aim of crafting a brilliant story. i love a goofy campaign full of shenanigans as much as the next person, but i adore how every choice in this show is given weight and meaning. there are no decisions made for laughs. it doesn't feel like playing a game. it feels like living in the story.

and there are also moments like the ending of this episode. a snapshot of elsewhere in the world, something the players don't know, but the audience gets to. it fills out the edges of the story and provides a richer tapestry of lore and reasoning behind the machinations of those who oppose our heroes. it gives life to the tale.

my heart is beating so fast. this show is incredible. thank you, @worldsbeyondpod , for the world you're creating.

[strangelittlestories]

If that year’s winter had not been cold enough to crack the air, or if it had not overstayed its welcome like a troublesome relative, then the village never would have called upon the woman with all the skulls.

But the warmth came late and, worse, when it did it brought the sickly sweet smell of blight on the wind. The people tried to hope it away, but it clung in their nostrils, the ghost of future hunger pains.

When spring finally limped into view, the first long-term crops emerged shrunken and sickly. Barely thawed earth was dug up to reveal blackened roots beneath. The farmers toiled to get their first plantings of the spring in the earth, but a second snap of frost killed their progress and many of the seeds.

So, with a hard and hungry year promised, Evelyn (the village librarian) volunteered to make the journey to the Tower of Skulls and Soot.

Evelyn was no fool. She took all reasonable precautions. She brought gifts: a small jar of her own baby teeth, saved by her parents in case she ever saw such desperate times; and a parcel of old poetry books that no-one ever checked out as they were long past the fashion. 

She took protection too: from beneath the library’s floorboards she excavated the Quiet Stone, a worn piece of marble that resonated with all the silent moments of revery that echoed above it. With it, she could take any place she travelled to into a library. She also brought a knife (because some people didn’t respect libraries).

When she reached the tower, she was struck by its strange appearance; the impossibly elongated femurs and humeruses of its pillars; the lightning blackened spire; the hanging baskets of death-pale flowers. Inside herself, she noticed a new feeling squirm at the sight and it was … not unpleasant. She gulped and raised a hand to the jawbone knocker on the front door.

The door creaked open, revealing a light and airy corridor - totally empty. Most people would have asked, in a similar situation: well, who opened the door? Evelyn was left wondering: how on earth does a hinge made of cartilage creak?

Soft whispers coming from nowhere and everywhere guided Evelyn through the hallways and winding stairs (mostly made of stone, but with some bone accents). The way was lit by skulls mounted on the walls, with small patches of glowing fungus growing from their mouths. Eventually, the gentle susurrus guided her to a solar near the top of the tower. 

Evelyn had never been in a solar before, but had read descriptions in books and had always thought they sounded most elegant and sophisticated. She was glad to see she was correct, as this room was spacious but not gaping, well appointed but not gaudy, and comfortable but not too cosy. It was filled by crisp morning sunlight that spilled through a huge window that took up the entirety of the east wall.

Sitting by the fireplace was the lady with all the skulls. She rested on a chair with a frame built from the skeleton of some fierce and hunched creature, but filled in with plentiful soft cushions. She wore a sleek robe of pure white; it looked soft.

“Greetings, fell mistress. I bring you a gift of-” Evelyn began confidently, before tripping over the final step.

The jar of teeth went flying from her hands and shattered on the floor. Molars and broken glass covered the floor.

“Well, that’s certainly an improvement on pitchforks and flaming torches.” The lady’s lip twitched almost imperceptibly. “But your aim certainly needs work.”

She flicked a finger in the direction of the teeth, which transformed immediately into a dozen tiny creatures that began to gobble up the glass. They were like a cross between cats, ferrets and tiny dragons. The shards went crunch in their teeth (Evelyn’s *teeth* had *teeth*).

“I, uh, also brought poetry.” Evelyn held out the books. “It’s quite old, I’m afraid. But I like it.”

“A poorly flung tooth grenade *and* classic poetry?” An eyebrow was arched. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to assassinate me or court me.”

Evelyn blushed.

“If I might ask-”

The lady waved a hand.

“I already know what’s on your mind. And yes, I will raise your village’s crops from the dead.”

“Actually,” Evelyn continued to blush, “I was going to ask you where you got those robes. People in towers - especially with so many skulls - always seem to have robes. And I’m sure no-one nearby makes them. At least, not ones so fine as that.”

The lady looked at Evelyn properly for the first time. Once more, Evelyn felt that strange squirming sensation and again realised that she didn’t mind it.

“I keep a small colony of zombie silkworms. They’re picky eaters, mind, but they do make the most delicate threads.” She paused, noticing something in Evelyn’s eyes. “I could gift you some, if you like.”

“Um…”

“Now come on, let’s get to your village before they think I’ve eaten you or harvested your clavicle or some nonsense.” She rose. “I swear, folks may think all the skulls are a *bit much*, but … when the killing winter comes, they remember they need a necromancer.”

---

With thanks to Character of the Month member Ellie Williams for the character of Evelyn.

Want to join the Character of the Month club and suggest character pitches for my stories? Support me at £10/month on Ko-Fi! https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[ajesterwrites]

9. the fatalist

summary: you spontaneously visit the boarding mansion, but it's not stefan who awaits you.

pairings: damon salvatore x reader, stefan salvatore x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2.2K

YOU WEREN'T USED to running. For you, everything was all about poise. You could be doing something you absolutely hated, as long as you looked good doing it. But after you were sent to Coral City's Trauma Center, you changed. Before, you had values, morals, a specific set of rules that guided you through life and your relationships. Then suddenly...you didn't.

The adjustment was difficult, but you tackled a fresh mindset and embraced your new identity with style. So the concept of you knocking on the door of a boy you met only a few days prior was something that would turn almost anyone's head.

Even as you rang the ancient doorbell, you couldn't help but laugh. The mere idea of you awkwardly standing outside, waiting for someone to answer, was absurd. But now it was you. And only you, since after five minutes of waiting, the only thing that greeted you was silence.

For a moment, you thought you had the wrong address. But you'd seen the picture Caroline sent you, a photo undoubtedly obtained by her casual stalking, and a place like that was hard to miss. It didn't even look like a house. It was more like a mansion you'd find in a horror film or a murder-mystery.

Reluctantly, you slammed the door knocker four times. The door creaked opened. You gasped quietly. Peering through the narrow opening, you realized you had three options.

Either you could wait a little longer and risk looking desperate, go inside and risk looking invasive, or you could leave. Nobody would know that you were ever there, which could save you some dignity.

Opting for the third choice, you followed your nature, and turned to go. You hadn't even walked two feet when a black crow nearly crashed into you. You yelped and ducked instinctively, covering your head with your hands, and then whirled around to find yourself gazing into the mesmerizing crystal blue eyes of a handsome stranger.

"Oh my god," You blurted out, placing a hand over your thumping heart. The stranger towered over you, smirking mischievously, and tilted his head to the side as if to say What's this?

"You must be Y/N," The man replied coolly. There was something about his tone that made you feel...off. It was charming and alluring, like the bright tip of a flame waiting to burn you. "I'm Damon, Stefan's brother."

You frowned. Brother? "I didn't even know he had a brother."

"Well Stefan's not one to brag," Damon joked. You chuckled softly. He reached his arm out, motioning for you to come forth. "Please, come in. I'm sure Stefan will be along any second."

You followed him inside and shut the door behind you. "Do you always keep your door open like that? I mean aren't you afraid of anyone getting in?"

"Nope."

"Then you must be pretty confident in your self-defense abilities," You said, but Stefan's brother was so unresponsive you weren't sure if the words actually left your mouth. As you looked around the enormous home, you noticed there was no security system installed. And Damon looked like a man who could defend himself. "Wow. This is your living room?"

"Living room, parlor...Sotheby's auction," He quipped. He stopped beside you. Your eyes wandered the room in awe. Between the regal rugs, chairs, lamps, and paint job, it was easy to say Stefan and his family had exquisite style. They'd really embraced the whole vintage vibe in a beautiful way. "It's a little kitschy for my taste."

You nodded slowly, but even you couldn't hide your surprise as you marveled at the setting.

"I see why my brother's so smitten," Damon said, turning to face you. You looked at him. Stefan was smitten? Had he...talked about you to Damon? That was a good sign, at least. "It's about time. For a while there, I never thought he'd get over the last one. Nearly destroyed him."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't expect someone with Stefan's face to stay single forever, but there was something about his tone that didn't seem right. He was trying to tell you something and it seemed like he was trying to let you know that without making it obvious.

"The last one?" You asked, painfully ignorant.

"Yeah. Katherine, his girlfriend?" Damon said, frowning insincerely when he saw that puzzled look on your face. "Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet."

You smiled politely. "Why linger in the past when there's a whole future ahead of you, right?"

"Interesting mindset," He replied, pretending to ponder your words. "It's too bad he's not looking for a relationship, he could really use someone like you in his life."

"We're just friends," You murmured, hoping to salvage some control over this conversation. Technically, you were being truthful. You were just friends—the reason you'd showed up was because you'd hoped you could be more, but you were beginning to regret it.

Damon nodded. "That's good. I would hate for you two to get involved when he's on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."

You smiled. "Have you always been such a fatalist?"

Damon chuckled softly, keeping his eyes trained on you with a pleased smile stretched across his face. "Hello, Stefan."

You turned to see Stefan standing by the entrance. "Y/N." His eyes were fixed on you, but he looked like he wanted to burn a hole in someone's skull—and you had a feeling it wasn't yours. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Yeah, uh, sorry," You said, stepping toward him. "This was kind of a spur of the moment thing and I really didn't think this through. It's stupid, I know, I just-"

"Oh, don't be silly," Damon intervened, coming to your side. "You're welcome any time. Isn't she, Stefan?"

Stefan didn't respond. Instead he just stood there, paralyzed, his thickening gaze boring into his inattentive brother. Or maybe Damon did notice the way Stefan was staring at him with such flaming eyes but simply didn't care.

"You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies," Damon went on. You struggled to keep your eyes on him when you could practically feel Stefan's impenetrable, long look. "But I have to warn you. He wasn't always such a looker."

"Thank you for stopping by, Y/N," Stefan spoke up monotonously, darting his eyes to you occasionally but maintaining Damon as his primary target. "Nice to see you."

If poison had a voice, that would be it. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on, but the only thing you did know was that this wasn't your problem and you weren't going to make it yours. The tension between the two was incredibly palpable, suffocating even. You'd never felt anything like it. You never knew that family members could hate each other so much.

"Um, yeah, okay," You said awkwardly, taking Stefan's lingering gaze as your cue to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Damon."

"Great meeting you too, Y/N," He replied. Without tearing his gaze from yours, he lifted your hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles.

Caught off guard by his gesture, you stood there in a daze and smiled forcefully before turning to the other brother. You opened your mouth to say something to Stefan, but quickly shut it and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before scurrying out.

And this is why I don't run.

◇◇◇

By the time you got to your house, you were exhausted. On your way there, your bike tires blew out so you'd been forced to walk halfway, and it'd been lifetimes since you walked such a great distance. All you wanted to do was take a relaxing shower and sleep. But you learned a long time ago that life wasn't there to cater to your desires. You didn't know exactly what its purpose was, all you knew was that when you arrived inside, Bonnie and Caroline's laughter floated through the house.

You followed their voices to the kitchen and stopped. "What are you guys doing here?"

Bonnie looked away from the pot she'd been stirring on the stove and smiled. "Oh, hey, Y/N! Jenna and I are just making jerk chicken from Grams' recipe book and Caroline is baking some cookies for tomorrow night."

"Yeah but enough of that," Caroline said, setting the bowl of batter down so she could prop her elbows on the counter and listen intently. "How'd your talk with Stefan go?"

"Well...I went to his place... and according to his brother-"

Caroline and Bonnie turned to each other and traded confused looks. You didn't speak silence, but still know exactly what they were—or weren't—saying. 

Did we know he had a brother? Caroline asked and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. She figured Caroline of all people would know the answer to that. Bonnie shook her head; Nope.

"Yes, you heard that right," You confirmed. "He has a brother. And before they got into that weird tense family moment, he told me that Stefan is looking for a rebound, not a relationship. Maybe this is a sign."

Caroline scoffed. "You can't be serious. A sign? Please. That is complete bullshit and you know it."

You blinked. Caroline wasn't one to curse very often.

"You barely even tried!" Caroline continued. "We've been friends for almost a decade, and I know that when you want something, you take it. That's why we have such a great dynamic!"

"She's right, you know," Jenna chimed in, stopping to chew a chocolate chip cookie. "It can't hurt to try again."

You stared at her with uncertainty. It could definitely hurt. It could hurt you. Besides...Holly didn't want you to start new relationships. There was too much that could go wrong. Too many questions that could be posed. "I don't know, it was a long shot anyway. I mean, you saw how things turned out with Matt."

"Yeah, we did," Caroline agreed. "And I wanted to gouge my eyes out with a pitchfork but-"

"Graphic."

"But I've seen you with Stefan, and it's..."

You watched her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the sentence. "It's what?"

"...different."

"What she means is watching you two interact doesn't make innocent bystanders, such as us, want to scrub our eyes out with bleach," Jenna offered, and Caroline nodded perkily in agreement.

You blinked at the pair. "Wow. Is that really how you guys felt when Matt and I were dating?"

"Well, I mean-" Bonnie started to say, but Caroline cut her off.

"Yes," The blonde practically exhaled, as if she'd been waiting to get that off her chest for years. But Caroline had never been one to bite her tongue—you wondered what the sudden confession was about. Especially since she seemed to be interested in Stefan herself. Why help you out when she could easily eliminate the competition?

"Moving on..." Bonnie continued, giving Caroline a warning look before turning to you with a warm smile. "You're finally happy. Really happy. Don't let your fear ruin that."

"What fear? It's not like I'm scared," You scoffed, grabbing a knife to chop vegetables. But after a brief moment under Bonnie's watchful eyes, you sheepishly looked up, biting your lip. "And if, hypothetically speaking, I am, what exactly do I have to be afraid of?"

Bonnie smiled sadly. "This is the happiest you've been since your parents died. And no offense, but you tend to be a little..."

"Pessimistic?" Caroline offered. "Cynical? Apathetic?"

"Yes..." Bonnie responded, a little irritated as she looked over at Caroline, who was too busy tasting her batch to notice. "But believe it not, the world isn't going to catch on fire because your life is good. And even if it does, I'll see it coming."

You laughed. It seemed this psychic thing was going to be a running gag and inside jokes in their lives. You didn't mind. It was nice having things almost return to normal.

"And," Bonnie went on. "Caroline heard from Bobbi, who heard from Kelly, who heard from Cristina, who heard from Margaret that Stefan is going to be at the festival. Maybe you two can patch things up when you get there?"

Caroline smirked. "And if you're really lucky, maybe you two can-"

"I think I wanna focus on a little soul-searching first," You interrupted, fighting back a smile. Your transformation was astounding, to say the least. Four months ago, you probably would've found a way into his pants, but you'd come to appreciate the internal beauty of those around you.

"Trust me." Caroline lowered her voice. "You'll have time to do plenty of searching."

"Caroline!" You and Bonnie exclaimed before bursting into giggles. Caroline smiled proudly while Jenna struggled to fight back a grin.

"This is why I'm the fun one," Caroline commented, pleased with herself.

"Whatever," You scoffed and threw a dish towel at her. Caroline squealed and tried to dodge, but it landed on her face. You and Bonnie erupted in a fit of giggles, and Caroline, though irritated, couldn't help but join in.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Someone To Rely On

Sherlock never trusted anyone, but now, barely without his knowledge, he trusted five people. Five! It was outrageous.

Despite his snarl and distaste for his brother’s involvement in his life, Sherlock trusted Mycroft nearly most of all. Nearly.

Whenever Sherlock ended up in a drug den, needed transport, or rescue from Serbian prisons, Mycroft was the one to trust, and he never failed to deliver.

Behind Mycroft in line, there had been Lestrade. Sherlock could always count on the DI lacking the brains to solve a difficult case, then turn to the world's only consulting detective for help.

His beloved landlady was dearer to Sherlock than his own mother. Her biscuits and cakes were the best in the land, perhaps even the world, and he didn’t mind her fussing all that much. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Besides, she loved their bickering just as much as he did.

Molly, next. His cheeks blushed when he thought about how over the years, he has exploited her crush on him to the fullest. Crowding in on her to let her get a whiff of his cologne. Lowering his voice when he wanted to get access to some interesting body parts. 

The only times he has touched her, though, were to apologise for his behaviour and thanking her for helping him faking his own death. Both kisses were full of regret on his part, and he still wished he hadn’t needed to bestow them on her.

And then there was the enigma, the soldier, the doctor, the man with as many trust issues as Sherlock. John Hamish Watson. The most loyal man he has ever met. A man who actually killed another man to save Sherlock from his own stupidity mere hours after they’d met. He was admittedly an awful cabbie, but the truth remains; John had not hesitated when he fired that gun. His hand was steady, his shot perfectly aimed. It took Sherlock an embarrassing amount of time to realise who the hitman was, but when he did, he was defenceless.

***

After years of living together, Sherlock knew for a fact that John was the puzzle that would always remain unsolved. That thought appeared in his mind numerous times a week. Sometimes, numerous times a day.

On Mycroft’s last visit, he called John a Living Weapon. When Sherlock had insisted on an explanation, his older brother had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You are totally blind when it comes to Doctor Watson, brother mine.”

Sherlock waved a hand, indicating for his pompous arse of a brother to continue.

“How loathe I am to state the obvious, there is…how shall I put it…the effective way he disposed of Mr. Hope. I don’t think I need to go into details of every time the good doctor has kept you from harm’s way, for which I am most grateful. Be it his hands, his fists, his arms in general, or illegal firearms, he is there for you, Sherlock. Always. From day one. I am certain he would have a go at me if he thought I was a threat to your life.”

Mycroft looked smug after this delivery, which Sherlock didn’t notice. He was so deep in thought, he failed to perceive that his brother left the flat. When he returned from his Mind Palace, two hours had passed.

He had created a new room for John in his mind, using all the images Mycroft planted there while he listed every way John had saved him over the years. He used less than three seconds to name it.

John Hamish Watson - The Living Weapon

***

“You’re unusually calm,” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear when he came home that afternoon.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sherlock asked a bit puzzled.

“Considering that your brother has visited,” John clarified.

“Ah. The knocker,” Sherlock sighed. “We really should consider gluing it to stay askew for eternity.”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s jaw. The great detective inhaled sharply when he realised that John’s new room in his Mind Palace would need more images. All the ways John brightened his life, how he loved him, were weapons too. Sort of. Because Sherlock was totally helpless when his lover used every trick in the John Watson Bible of Seduction to get his attention.

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I'll leave it up to you to deduce whether Mycroft was aware he was using a pun...

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[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 1: Hunger / Pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

The moon cut through the trees beyond the pines of the stranger’s bedroom. It turned her pale skin silver and her dark hair blue. She wasn’t a stranger. Steve reminded himself. 

She was a girl, named after a month or a flower. Steve couldn’t remember. He’d done all the right things. He’d taken her to the movies, paid for their dinner, despite neither having touched their food and told her she was pretty. She was beautiful but he couldn’t remember a thing about her. 

God, he should’ve been better than this. This was the kind of person he’d been back in high school. He’d been starving for attention and craving attraction, never wanting to be alone. He’d slept with her because he knew it meant he could stay the night. 

He’d done the same thing before Nancy when Tommy and Carol had been busy and he hadn’t wanted to stumble home to the silence of his house. He’d told himself he was better than what he was doing, but he’d done it anyway. 

She hadn’t been looking for a relationship. Steve remembered that distinctly. He was always looking for a relationship. It was a sign that he should’ve called it a night after dinner, kissed her cheek and headed off to save himself the heartache. He knew if he slept with her once, he’d want to do it again. Not because he liked her, but because he liked being wanted. 

He’d sleep with her again if he got the chance. He’d sleep with her until he fell in love with her and that’s when she’d end things. Steve didn’t know how to love half-way and people always knew. He fell in love with the wrong people. 

Hawkins had gone to hell, and he hadn’t wanted to spend another night alone. He could’ve asked Robin to come over, but that would mean admitting something was wrong. He’d wanted to ask Eddie. 

The men had grown closer since Eddie left the hospital, closer than Steve cared to admit. He’d been avoiding Eddie in the same way he’d been avoiding the silence of his home. He had the habit of falling in love with the wrong people and soon the boy would work it out. 

When Steve finally unpicked the mess of feelings he had for Eddie and saw it for what it really was, love, he’d run from it. Not because Eddie was a guy, though Steve would be lying if he’d said that hadn’t surprised him. That hadn’t been what had shaken him. For Steve Harrington, love always ended badly. He wanted Eddie to stick around, so he’d been avoiding him, contradictory as it was. 

The girl slept with the radio on because she couldn’t stand the silence. It was something she and Steve had in common. She’d fallen asleep hours before. He’d been listening to rock ballad after rock ballad, his mood growing ever the more sour because of it. He ground his teeth and clutched the sheets as Freddie Mercury’s lyrics mirrored his internal dialogue. Cheesy as it sounded, all he wanted at that moment was somebody to love. 

His heart in his chest pounded like it did in the last quarter of his championship game or in the moments before he was about to break his swimming PB. He remembered the same feeling washing over him as a child when he heard his father’s footfalls on the steps as he arrived home from an overseas trip. He’d crawl under the bed, count to one hundred and wait for the thunderstorm in his chest to settle. He was having a panic attack. 

Steve leapt out of bed without thinking, shook the girl's shoulder and told her he was leaving. He didn’t hear her response. 

Steve didn’t know how he got to Robin’s house, but he found himself at her door pounding on the knocker despite the late hour, trying to come up with a way to make it up to Mr and Mrs Buckley for waking them up at an ungodly hour. The house remained silent. No one answered the door. 

Shit. Robin and her family were in Michigan for her grandmother’s birthday. Steve knew that. Still, when his life felt like it was going to shit, he went to Robin. He didn’t know what to do without her. 

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Robin was better. If she were there, she’d be able to tell Steve what he was thinking, but she wasn’t. He was alone. He’d have to work it out for himself. 

He sat on the Buckley’s front stoop, pulled his knees to his chest and tried to understand why he felt like someone was crushing his ribs with a hydraulic press. He was overcome with an onslaught of conflicting emotions. Wanting. Shame for wanting. Irritation at the shame. Indignation at the conflicting soup of sensations that rose, fell and mingled within him. He felt like he was going to puke, but nothing happened. More than anything else, he didn’t want to be alone. For once, he didn’t want to be with a stranger, either. 

He pulled himself together for long enough to drive to the trailer park. He cut his headlights at the turnoff and navigated the dirt road to the Munson’s trailer blind. He didn’t hop out of the car. The digital clock let him know it was three in the morning. The lights were still on in the trailer, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to get out of the BMW. He’d been avoiding Eddie. He needed to turn around and go home, but he couldn’t. 

Steve’s shallow breaths fogged the windows of the Beamer, turning the world outside into a haze of light and darkness. He had no idea what he was doing. 

The wrapping of knuckles against the car door made Steve jump so high his knees collided with the steering wheel. Eddie’s blurry visage appeared on the other side of the glass, his hands cupped around his eyes, the facsimile of binoculars as he peered in jokingly at Steve. Something in Steve’s face wiped the smirk from Eddie’s. He opened the driver’s door and crouched back on his haunches so he and Steve were face to face, his wide brown eyes raking over Steve’s body, searching for something in the features. 

“Did something happen?” Eddie asked in place of a ‘hello’. 

Steve wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words, hell he couldn’t find any words. He managed to shake his head and let his vision drop to his lap. 

Eddie moved closer, but Steve pulled back. It was a knee-jerk response he’d built up in their time apart. Don’t let Eddie get too close. Then he’ll never know. Eddie bit his lip and shrugged off his jacket. It wasn’t the same one he’d given Steve months before. That one was past the point of no return, but it felt like a mirrored memory. He held it out to Steve. When the boy gave the fabric a perplexed look Eddie rolled his eyes and whispered. 

“For your modesty, dude. Remember?” Eddie vaguely gestured in Steve’s direction. He realised he hadn’t bothered to get dressed. He sat there in nothing but his underwear. Yeah. Great move, Harrington. 

“You wanna come in?” Eddie asked, backing away, giving Steve his space. 

“Okay,” Steve replied, proud he’d managed to do something other than gawk. He pulled Eddie’s jacket tightly around his body and let himself be led into the Munsons’ living room. 

Steve collapsed on the faded couch, placing one of the cushions in his lap, feeling suddenly aware of his lack of clothes and the chill in the air. At least his breathing was back to normal. That was something. The whole place smelled of cigarettes. Steve inhaled deeply.

Eddie busied himself in the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from Wayne’s collection. Of course, Eddie grabbed the stupid Garfield mug, which Steve knew was his favourite. He gave Steve a new mug each time he was over. Sometimes they’d brandish names of nowhere towns or fast-food chains, and other times it’d be some niche pop culture memorabilia. That night, he placed the ‘My Little Pony’ mug, complete with its baby pink handle and faded rainbow, usually reserved for Dustin, in Steve’s hand. 

He drank deeply. It was hot chocolate. Eddie sat beside him. His body was close, but not close enough to touch. Eddie was warm. 

“You want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, rolling his head across the back of the couch, his eyes never quite meeting Steve’s. 

“Not yet,” Steve reasoned. Not tonight. It wasn’t the night for confessions. He didn’t want to lose Eddie, not yet. 

“You hungry?” Steve hadn’t realised he was until Eddie asked.

“Starving,” He confessed, not looking up to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

The warmth at his side was gone for an instant. Once more there was a rattle from the kitchen. Steve’s fingers absentmindedly traced the mug’s faded rainbow.

“You’re not going to puke are you Stevie? You look a little green around the gills,” Eddie called over his shoulder. Steve shook his head. 

“Are we okay, Steve?” Eddie asked after a moment, his voice hesitant. 

When Steve looked up, Eddie wasn’t looking at him. He was busy digging through the pantry. Maybe he’d needed to ask the question when his back was turned. The former king had never heard the boy sound so small. 

Steve was busy working out how to reply when Eddie ploughed on.

“Because a week ago you just dropped off the edge of the map, dude. I saw you every goddamn day, twice a day, for months, then nothing. And then you show up out of the blue, in the middle of the night, in your underwear, looking like Vecna’s come back for round two. You’re not giving me much to go off here, so I’ve gotta ask. Are we good? Did I do something wrong?” Eddie spoke in a flurry, never turning to face Steve. Nevertheless, Steve saw right through him. He’d screwed things up already, hadn’t he? 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did something wrong,” Steve spoke, admitting more than he’d intended. 

Eddie finally turned to face him, a cereal box in one hand and a perplexed look on his face. He looked like he wanted to push for more, but understood Steve was seconds away from turning and running. 

The boy returned to Steve’s side, flopping gracelessly onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He handed Steve the box and watched as the boy eyed it cautiously. 

“I know it’s no breakfast bagel, but we haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks. It’s the best we’ve got.”

Steve Harrington was used to living his life in a particular way. He’d always had to be put together, well-mannered, and the kind of kid his parents would be proud of. All that to say, Steve had never eaten cereal out of the box with his hands. It felt odd and primal in a way he hadn’t anticipated.  

“How’d you know about the breakfast bagels?” 

He hadn’t eaten breakfast bagels since high school. Without swim training every morning, he had time to cook himself actual food, something more variable than his old faithful breakfast bagel. Maybe Eddie had been talking to Robin. 

“I just... I noticed you sometimes, back in high school. We had a few classes together and you were kind of a big deal, you know, Harrington,” Steve looked down, a knot growing in his stomach. 

He passed the cereal over to Eddie and watched the boy’s hands plunge into the depths of the box. He ate unabashedly, open-mouthed. Steve should’ve found it disgusting. He didn’t. He had it bad. 

“You couldn’t do anything wrong when it comes to you and me. You know that, right?” Eddie asked after a moment, returning to the subject Steve was desperately retreating from. 

“You don’t know what it is yet. If you did...” Steve’s throat seized up. He remembered another night, with Robin in a bathroom stall. The details were fuzzy, hazed over by drugs, but the words came back to him now. Robin’s words in his mouth. Robin’s words, seconds before she came out. Steve had told himself he wasn’t doing that, not tonight, yet here he was. 

“You wouldn’t want to be my friend.” Eddie’s brows drew together, seeming to understand the enormity of the situation. He swallowed thickly, squared off his shoulders and looked Steve dead in the eye.

“Try me,” He breathed. All bravado. Steve noticed a tremble in his voice. 

Now or never. He’d have to rip the damn band-aid off. 

“I came here because I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be next to anyone but you,” the words gushed from Steve’s lips. As soon as they were out, he wanted to take them back. 

He didn’t look at Eddie, couldn’t look at him, though he noticed a flurry of movement as his leg bounced up and down rapidly, all nervous energy. It wasn’t as though Steve and Eddie hadn’t slept beside each other before, but this was different. Eddie had to know what Steve meant. When it came to his feelings, he was always so damn transparent. 

“I stopped hanging out with you because I didn’t want you to know...” The words stuck in Steve’s throat. He turned his eyes skyward, wishing for some kind of divine intervention, maybe another apocalypse, anything to stop him from having to admit it. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, imploring the boy to look at him through tone alone. Despite his better judgment, Steve did. 

Eddie’s brown eyes were open, his face the picture of sympathy and understanding. Steve didn’t want it. He gritted his teeth and returned his eyes to his hands. 

“Steve... you know I’m gay, right?” Eddie said, his hand appearing on Steve’s knee, giving it a squeeze. He hadn’t, but then again, it wasn’t as big a surprise as it should be. 

“No, but...you know, the last two people I loved didn’t love me back. Even if you do like guys, my track record is pretty shit,” Steve reasoned, then realised what he���d said as Eddie’s hand tightened on his knee. 

“Shit. I didn’t mean that. Well- I did, but... that’s intense. Right? Too intense,” Steve rambled, wondering if Robin was rubbing off on him. He still couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie’s hand brushed Steve’s cheek, startling the boy and causing him to look over once more. Eddie didn’t look freaked out or disgusted, as Steve had worried he was. He didn’t look pitying either, as Robin had on the floor of the bathroom when he’d confessed to her. If anything, Eddie looked relieved. 

“You know Steve, ‘intense’ is one of my favourite adjectives. You think I dance around on tables because of my quiet and well-adjusted demeanour? If you asked someone to describe me,  the word ‘intense’ is going to come up. Not to mention I’ve been nursing a crush on you since my first go at senior year with your stupid floppy hair and you’re too-tight basketball shorts."

“You never mentioned...” Steve’s voice was drowned out by Eddie’s snort. 

“Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell you liked me back and it was-”

“Intense,” Steve finished with a wry smile. Eddie nodded, too enthusiastically, his face suddenly very close to Steve’s. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Eddie breathed, pausing for a second to check if it was okay with Steve. 

He couldn’t wait. He surged forward, crushing their lips together. It was intense, just the way they liked it. 

[kathbunny]

Okay!! So!! Blah posted art of library monster Maxim so I am going to do a little bit writing for the au here on Tumblr bc why not!!

Context that you barely need due to the fact it won't be mentioned or be important:

• it is an isekai au! Pretty classic isekai stuff! VR-LA was a guy in a normal modern world, he liked a video game, something happened and he ended up in the game's world! Simple stuff, he runs off from home, starts the adventure from the game, cheeses some stuff with his knowledge. He's having a great time mostly.

• Maxim was a npc and optional boss fight! He was in the library, enforced its rules, etc. he just there, he has mechanical bugs as library assistants. He was well loved by the fandom, by his designer, by his two voice actors, by the writers, etc. he did willingly make himself this, but some of the negative effects weren't intentional, and he did not do it for mentally healthy reasons.

• the old crew are explorers and MR-SN dies at a certain time in the game unless you do a bunch of a side quests and explore a lot of places first. It was a meme bc most people don't do that or even talk to them enough to care, so learning about it every playthrough became just funny. VR-LA joins them after saving the world!

Anyway none of that matters bc this is just going to be about VR-LA and Maxim in the library. Writing time

CW repeated mention of blood and injury

VR-LA had a very specific routine each time he returned to the library. He cleaned off his boots outside, ensuring he brought in as little mud as possible from dragging himself through the desolate wilds around it. He stepped inside and removed his outer coat in the entryway, folding it and placing it into his bag, attempting to look presentable. He made sure any of his louder items were tucked away so any clanking, clicking, ticking, or chiming was kept to a minimum. Each step so he wouldn't break any of the rules of the library.

Today though, he couldn't. Snow was piling up outside the door, his sides aching from wounds that potions made harmless, his outer coat stuck to his vest from dried blood, his legs feeling like they may give out from lack of break and hours of movement. He stumbled to the first door, pressing his hand against the knocker which sat at the center, made to be in the shape of the same sort of monster as the library's protector. After a second, the ring within the mouth of the decoration knocked against the door on its own, and VR-LA heard a subtle click. Hopefully Maxim wouldn't mind VR-LA resting in only the entryway before he straightened up, VR-LA wasn't sure if he could handle that fight in this state.

VR-LA pulled the door open, immediately feeling a rush of warm air from within. He hurried into the entryway, pulling the door shut behind him. He sat on the floor, pulling his backpack off his shoulder. The game always made travelling like that seem so easy.

There was buzzing from above him, most likely one of the assistants coming to examine the guest. VR-LA rather hoped Maxim would be too busy to greet him immediately, even if that was unlikely. He leaned his head back against the wall, squinting up at the large mechanical bee. It turned away, going through a hexagon passageway built too high up the wall for a human to ever go through and deeper into the library.

VR-LA took a deep breath, his eyes feeling heavy from exhaustion. If he stayed leaning back like this, he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake. He pushed himself to sit up straighter, focusing on his coat and vest first. He wouldn't be able to remove them separately in their current state, so his vest would have to be unbuttoned first. He was lucky the blood wasn't his own or the shirt would have had to go too.

There was a loud slam of the door at the other end of the entryway, startling VR-LA right as his cold hands managed to get through the first button. And he was quickly up in the air, teeth holding onto the back of his coat. "VR-LA." Maxim growled. Today's the day. Today's the day Maxim throws VR-LA out forever. Maxim was carrying him into the library as he spoke in a rather muffled manner. "I have potions within my nest. Once your injuries are dealt with, we will discuss the cause-"

Oh! "I had a potion for them an hour ago, this blood isn't mine." VR-LA replied awkwardly.

"So you had been injured?"

"Yes?"

"Then it is a requirement you rest." Maxim dropped VR-LA onto a random couch, one far too tiny for the monster to put himself on, given he was almost as large as the elephants of VR-LA's original world. His sat on the ground in front of VR-LA, using his front paws to adjust VR-LA surprisingly nimbly, like he was more of a doll than a person, before VR-LA himself even got the chance to. Large claws were unbuttoning his vest more nimbly than his own could've, Maxim squinting to get the good look he needed. "How long were you in the cold while dressed like this?" Maxim asked, the beans of his paws briefly brushing against VR-LA's side as he tried to check under the vest to confirm VR-LA's words.

"Most of today?"

"It is nearly night and that is not nearly enough for the snow. The fabric is too thin." And with that, Maxim draped a wing over VR-LA. Soft feathers brushed against his face and sides, the rich coppers and browns of them glittering slightly in the light. "It will do your journey no good to die of cold."

[puckpocketed]

hello i was tagged by @18minutemajor for WIP Wednesday. it is not Wednesday but i am also not a cop so . here we gooo!!!!!!! tagging my esteemed colleagues (very politely and with no pressure!!!):

@neonfretra @oensible @sorrellegiance @moregraceful @stereax

@wheelsnipecelebrini

@korshrimpski (EDIT: it won’t?? let me tag you. unless these are on separate lines <3)

what's in-progress in your life <3 writing? art? recipe? skill acquisition?

if any crafty people see this - if ANYONE sees this - and would like to join in, feel free and consider yourself tagged <3 (and tag me back so i can see your stuff!!!) link to 18minutemajor's post if yall curious :3 my VERY long wip dump + ramblings under the cut!

its christmas soon and i like to paint gifts for my friends + and i'm finally revisiting my anime/lineart/inking era (here you are K!! my lineart past, present, and future!! <3) so here are some things i've been working on/coming back to/MAY NEVER FINISH: hockey related:

this is juraj slafkovsky and his dinky little middle part which he can absolutely learn to style into something a little less dinky but never does. i am so charmed by him. i imagine he just rocks it because his pretty privilege supersedes dinky middle parts . LMAO!!

here is Sasuke from my Naruto Hockey AU. I am a little stuck on jersey mockups lol. here he is. our haunted little 1OA who is absolutely normal and regular about his captain (LOUD incorrect buzzer):

personal oc art

wanna know some puckpocketed deep lore? i've never been one to make OCs. i was just not a very creative kid tbh. spent all my time drawing sailor moon instead. i still go back to her sometimes because she is one of my favourite shapes in the WORLD!!

in my 20s i took up playing d&d because of the. uh. plague. <3 and got pretty close to having OCs!! those count right? anyway. here is my tavern-wench-turned-wizard!!! i think i painted this 2 years ago? <- put dates on your works guys it saves lives. her name is Mel (short for Melins (pronounced like melons. on account of her knockers. can you tell i never grew out of my 12 yr old booby/cock joke era?) i revisited Mel recently and have started painting her in earnest again!! :3

I briefly dated someone who was very into streetwear and fashion, and I fell down a techwear/gorpcore/cyberpunk rabbit hole for a couple days out of curiosity. i remember literally zero salient info on any of it except the broad strokes of silhouetting and Vibes. what i emerged with, however, was a ?? sorta OC?? im not sure what to call them. they dont rly have a name or gender. I did this little sheet ages ago + the aborted attempt at a portrait later:

Here are my most recent explorations (i have been doing SOOOO much art. <3) which include:

unfinished character sheet + chibi art. I played with their jacket (much more structured/square/tailored thing) and added a lotta random buckles and belts. i took textiles class years ago and have a little experience in garment construction. and i know for a fact this thing does not make any sense. it hurts me to look at a little bit LMAO so i've paused it while i go draft patterns (badly. i was never good at drafting. i think i may have to break out my scrap fabric stash and hand sew a real life mock-up. HELP!)

here is me having fun with them and imagining them as some kind of cyber-fisherman. the best part of every game is the fishing mini-game to me. i love fishing mini-games so much. I made their hair really big because i wanted them to have big unwieldy hair and the vibes told me i should add more movement to the piece aside from the fishing line. I messed with their jacket AGAIN because i can't stop thinking about what kinda jacket they'd wear. gorp-core ? idk. it sure is something!

gifts for my friends :3

back in my weeb era for real YAYYYY!!! up til now i'd been making hockey art using a zero pressure sensitivity pen brush because i simply did NOT want to deal with that. it is and has always been a barrier to me making art that uses line art. <3 easing my way back into it though!

I used to paint gifts for my friends and then get them printed into lil posters and mount them on nice backing :3 i am now ready and back to painting.

Here is my girlbestie's OC. just a rough pose sketch. i think im pretty unsatisfied with the gesture of the head/hand. i wanted to include her gun in some way. i fear i may have to rework the pose entirely <3

For the genshin girlies.. here are some of my friends fave characters.

Yelan - this one i started many holidays ago and put on the backburner because the colouring was wigging me out. you can see where i started rendering stuff + got sidetracked and started on something else (the crystal choker IM LAUGHING @ past me...)

Ayaka - I reaaally like what i did here with the perspective + foreshortening. I don't know if the pose or expression is in-character or not, but i had fun :3 got stunlocked looking at references of genshin weapons so this is where i left off:

if you made it all the way down here hi... <3 ice hockey really cracked the ketchup bottle open for me when it comes to making art again. i love the communities i've found, and i'm inspired by every artist on here every day. thanks for being so cool + have a great day :)