#Come chill w me :)

[crocodilenjoyer]

here’s the thing. about zolu. puts myhand on your shoulder Here’s the thing. luffy? aromantic. zero interest in romance. zoro? gay. very low interest in romance. has two braincells and they’re both devoted to thinking about swords. they are not dating. it is not romantic. it’s not sexual either because luffy, much like his views on romance, could not give less of a shit about sex. maybe if they both feel up to it at the same time, but that’s rare and when it does happen it’s more of a physicality and, to a lesser extent, affection thing than anything else. occasionally it’s a “hey wouldn’t it be weird/funny/fucked up if we [insert some david cronenberg-type shit]” thing and the other one goes “haha yeah do you wanna try.” but i digress.

however. HOWEVER. they Have A Thing. what that Thing entails is a mystery. luffy is both incredibly straightforward and frustratingly cryptic whenever he’s asked about it and zoro just kinda shrugs. they’re just luffyandzoro and zoroandluffy. the king and his lionheart. drift compatible. partners. captain and first mate. the sailor and the north star. sun and moon. they simply Are. what does that entail? well brother. they hang out

[solaestial]

end roll X stranger things 2v2 🔥

super random and self-indulgent crossover but. i did some pixels in a kind of semi-battle setup for fun ehe. the pairings feel both a little similar to me and VERY different ofc it's so funny

separate duos and alts under the cut :>

[helldritch6211]

If i re wrote red hood outlaws + arsenal n red would you want to see snippets of that or would you roast me on a pike?

[toorurii]

Why do you hate people "copying" your art style? Pretty sure people don't do it with malicious intent and probably for practice

When did I said I hated it baby😭 I said that if you reference my art HEAVILY it would be nice if I was just credited somewhere 🫶🏽

The only time I’m really uncomfortable or frustrated is when my stuff is very clearly referenced (bar for bar, like hold the pieces up side by side VERY CLEARLY referenced and I’m not talking about poses or compositions bc ofc people don’t own stuff like that. I don’t like assuming things or jumping to conclusions but sometimes it’s right there without a doubt) and I’m not really… acknowledged at all..? Even then I’m not gonna rly cause a scene over it and just curate my space so I don’t have to see it 😭

I understand that I’m an artist with a larger following on twt, so the last thing I want to do is badger folks with smaller followings who do heavily reference my stuff w/o credit because I know it’s sick and twisted (for ME to get on other folks /srs) and once again inspo is how folks grow. That’s why I just keep it moving and stay in my lane👆🏽 I’m still human though so I think I’m allowed to feel and express my feelings on the matter if asked though, just like in the ask abt this previously.

[humanmorph]

"This is a message to you, who listens. You must trust me, because we are friends. You just don't know it yet. "

(The Road to PARTIZAN 05 : Ech0 & dusk to midnight)

currently halfway through PARTIZAN (making my way towards palisade extremely slowly. see u guys there in a month or two) & this is to date my favourite intro Austin has done. what an great introduction to an extremely cool character

[martianbugsbunny]

btw the winner of Weirdest Response To My Gender is my bro. dude literally just stopped using pronouns to refer to me at all. he's not misgendering me he's just not using any pronouns. I'm not even mad about it because it's so funny

[everlusts]

not being here for anything other than saurondriel is a direct threat to the lorebros and a portion of the show fans themselves. not sure how honoured i am about that but yeah

[givemedamage]

love being transgender , positivity, blah blah , whatever but i HATE GETTING SWERVED AND SPITROASTED BY CVS AMD PLANNED PARENTHOOD AFTER PAYING COLD HARD CASH FOR A GAY LITTLE APPOINTMENT THAT ALLOWS ME TO BUY FUCKING SYRUP THAT MAKES ME A MAN AND THEN NOT EVEN GETTIGN IT FOR SOME REASONI CANT EVEN CALL MY BITCH ASS 1 STAR RN PROVIDER AND BE LIKE HEYYYYYYYYY WHY IS MY THIGN ON HOLD :333BECAUSE HER NUMBERS JUST THE PP NUMBER AND WHENEVET I CALL THE PHARMACY OR PP ITS LIKE beep boop sorry go fuck yourself GOD

[gromlyn]

a moment of peace

[chrliekclly]

hav ben working consistently w 1 of my sunny coworkers on non-sunny projects for a couple months now nd today he told me he cn tell nd is rly glad tht even when im stressed it never gets as bad as it does when we’re on sunny cuz on sunny i usually look like im dying

it was sweet of him to say but like...he doesnt understand the state i enter when i walk onto that set. literally nothing will ever effect me like that place does.

[mtdewred]

i was looking at old articles about BMC and this one in particular rly bothered me

they compare the main character of BMC to DEH and I think they prove BMC's entire point. ESPECIALLY songs like Loser Geek Whatever and Upgrade (both versions).

What on earth is wrong with being *bad* awkward?? Awkward shouldn't have a charming, positive definition it's AWKWARDNESS. It's supposed to make you cringe because you yourself know what awkwardness feels like!! I just hate how Evan Hansen, guy who lies about a kid who killed himself to get with his sister but it's okay bc he's the "sweet and charming" type of awkward, is any better than Jeremy Heere, loser reject who takes a pill and makes mistakes but ultimately tries to remedy it out of his own accord to give free will back to the girl he likes, is worse because he's the painful type of awkward. Why are we. hating on. real awkwardness...

ALSO YOU LEARN SO MUCH ABOUT JEREMY IN THE FIRST SCENE LIKE JUSTBHIM IN HIS ROOM. JOE ICONIS WAS LIKE THIS IS THE PINICLE OF BE MORE CHILL. like he's just a lonely lil dude leave him and his porno ALONE omggg AUGHHHHHH

[mono-socke]

Jeresquip? Squipemy? the?

THE??

Ówò?

THE THEM

jeremy: if you can change your appearance to literally anything, why did you choose one that's shorter than me while wearing platforms?

squip:

squip: none of your business

[mylove-thresher]

my most honest to god reaction whenever I see anything related to mista in the slightest

[hexados-on-a-string]

no one talks enough about how there's apparently crew on the vestal destroyer, even after spectra and gus take it. bc thats so funny. can you imagine just being these regular ass people and your bosses are a group of some of the most insufferable (and evil) teenagers ever.

and you're chilling out, doing your job, trying not to get killed bc these kids are insane and the king is a dick and u never know what's going to happen bc u watched the giant cyborg dragon blast a hole into the side of the ship once and that took SO much work to fix and thats not even in the top 20 of the wildest shit to happen on the ship.

then all of a sudden the guy who looks like cloud strife if he was trying to cosplay a bird is like "i have stolen the ship." and ur just like "do we get paid??" and they're like "?? yes???? we're not that evil" which like. that's debatable but you don't say anything you just continue doing ur job. like technically u should be pissed off abt the royal family like lying and shit and how bad that all is but you've also been working here for 2 years and already knew all that shit and the pay is good so fuck it. plus the break room gossip is juicy as hell and contributes to like 75% of ur dopamine intake.

[neige-leblanche]

i honestly think the stress of my job is bad for my health tbh

[set-phasers-to-whump]

let me help

prompt: asking for help

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi happy halloween and welcome to my last fic of the month!! it's pre-ship and that's all there is to it. (title from the city on the edge of forever which is a star trek tos episode that i've been obsessed with for years. yeah.)

“Can you help me?”

Napoleon stops dead in his tracks. He can count on…well, no hands the amount of times he’s ever heard such a request from his partner. Admittedly they’ve only been working together a couple months, but still. Gaby’s asked. Napoleon himself has asked. 

Illya, though? Never. 

“What with?” Napoleon asks, all casual. He doesn’t want Illya to back off, to rescind his trust. 

“I cannot—this report. I do not understand what I am supposed to write.”

Napoleon moves over beside Illya and looks down at the paper atop his desk. It’s a standard mission report, and Illya has filled out the basics, but a lot of it is just blank space. 

Napoleon gets it—there are a lot of technical words involved in the report, and even he as a native speaker of English sometimes struggles to parse his experiences into the kind of terms the bureaucracy is looking for. 

“Yeah, so in this part,” Napoleon starts, gesturing to a box, “you need to write down the equipment you used.”

“Only me?”

“Yes. Gaby and I’ve filled out the same form, so they know what we’ve used collectively. This is individual data.”

“Okay,” Illya says, and Napoleon watches him very slowly write down the name of his gun, his knife, the personal radio. 

This feels weird. Not because of the task itself, which is actually quite nice, getting to explain things he understands and help his partner, but because Illya’s already filled out three mission reports before this. Why hadn’t he asked before?

Illya sniffs, huffs out a breath, and says, “I don’t want to write this.”

“I know the feeling, but we have to.”

Another sniff and another sigh. “Tomorrow I will do it.”

This is really weird. Illya is never one to put off work for tomorrow which could be done today. It’s just not how he is. 

“Are you sure? I can help you some more.”

Illya shakes his head. Napoleon feels still more strongly that something isn’t quite right. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

Illya looks at him very intently, and very deliberately says, “I am fine.”

Something in his expression emboldens Napoleon, tells him he’s right. And so he pushes. “No, you’re not. Something’s the matter, and you might as well tell me.”

Illya scowls. “You don’t know this.”

“You asked me for help with a mission report, and I know you’ve done these before without any help. So something’s up.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Try again.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Better.”

Illya looks at his desk for a very long time. His ears have turned pink. When he looks up at Napoleon, his cheeks are pink as well, and there’s a sort of shame and dismay in his eyes that Napoleon has never seen before. 

“I didn’t ask. Before, when I was writing these reports. I thought…I was worried that you will think I’m stupid. Because I don’t know these technical words.”

“I’d never think you were stupid. Not for something like that. Maybe for your propensity to put yourself into extreme danger, but never for this. Even I struggle with what these mission reports want from me, and I’m writing them in my first language.”

Illya nods very slightly. He still looks faintly miserable, and Napoleon is determined to get to the bottom of everything and fix it. 

“You can always come to me for help with these reports. Or anything else, actually. If I can help you with anything, ever, just…just let me know.” This is perhaps a bit more than he’d intended to say, a bit too revealing when, all things considered, they haven’t known each other for that long, but it’s true, and he means it. 

Only now it seems like he’s done something wrong, because Illya’s eyes have gotten all glassy and he really hadn’t meant to make things worse but of course he somehow has. 

“Sorry. If that was…too much. I did mean it, though.”

Illya looks rather surprised by this apology. “Why are you sorry? It’s very kind.”

“I just thought…well, you looked upset. You still do, actually. I was worried I’d said something wrong.”

Illya’s cheeks turn pinker, and he looks away. “It’s nothing.”

“You have to quit saying that.”

“Really, though. It is fine.”

Napoleon crosses his arms and waits. 

“Maybe I am sick.” Illya says this very quietly and hesitantly, like he’s not sure of it. 

The entire thing suddenly makes sense. The asking for help, the general look of suffering, the lowered emotional barriers. He feels like a fool for not having put the pieces together sooner. 

Hindsight is 20/20, he reflects, reaching out a hand and laying it against Illya’s forehead. His partner doesn’t so much as flinch.  

The skin beneath his hand is warm to the touch, though not to a dangerous degree. He doesn’t miss the way Illya leans into his palm, just a bit, the way he sinks back into himself when Napoleon pulls his hand away. 

Napoleon wants to prolong this contact that Illya seems to be drawn towards. He wants to sit beside him and wrap an arm around him, let Illya’s forehead come to rest against his shoulder, a little too warm, wants so badly to be that little bit of help, of comfort, that makes the illness more bearable. 

He checks his watch. “Only an hour left of the day. Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you home.”

He hasn’t been to Illya’s apartment yet. Doesn’t know if he’s allowed. But he wants to help and is willing to fight for it. 

Not that there’s any need. Illya, rather surprisingly, just nods. “Okay.”

Napoleon extends a hand, and it feels like a little victory when his partner takes it and allows himself to be helped to his feet. 

Once standing, he sways for a second, braces a hand against the desk, then inhales deeply. 

“Alright?”

A small nod. 

“Let’s go, then.”

They traipse out of the building without running into anyone else. There’s a nonzero chance Waverly will be mildly peeved tomorrow, but Napoleon will take the fall gladly. 

Just before they reach Napoleon’s car, Illya stops. For a second Napoleon thinks, this is it, he’s going to refuse, but then Illya simply says, “thank you.”

He sounds so sincere that it makes Napoleon’s chest ache, just a little. He wonders when was the last time that Illya was driven home by someone. When he was last really cared for when unwell, and not brushed aside or treated brusquely. 

“Of course,” Napoleon replies. It’s all he can think to say. 

They climb into the car, and Napoleon drives them to Illya’s apartment—he knows where it is, although he’s never been there. What kind of spy would he be, otherwise?

When they get there, he’s again afraid that this is the moment where Illya will have had enough. Where the training and culture of the KGB is going to kick in, and Illya is going to kick him out. 

It never happens. Illya does not say a word when Napoleon comes up with him, when he bustles around the kitchen looking for ingredients for soup, when he brings Illya water and medicine and blankets. 

In fact, the only thing he really says, when Napoleon is standing by the stove and contemplating what the hell kind of soup he can make with the sad array of ingredients he’s found in the cabinets, is exactly the opposite of Napoleon’s worries. 

“Stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, and he thinks that he wants this to mean forever.

thanks for reading! with this i am now a whumptober completionist for six years running isn't that insane?? i am so happy i managed to do all this while doing all my other shit too!!!! i had such a good time writing this month and i hope you enjoyed reading, whether you've read all my fics or just this one. i love you guys!!!!