#i am also going to try finish a fic

[non-un-topo]

To the next adventure...

Image description and details under cut

I.D.

[A drawing of Nicky, Joe, Quynh, and Andy from The Old Guard. They are all in profile, walking in a straight line facing the sun. They are dressed in medieval clothing and armour, and each carry their own weapons and bags. Nicky has his sword, a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, a dagger at his belt and another strapped to his ankle. Joe is holding his sword, a bag, and a coin purse. Quynh's bow is over her back, and her quiver is at her hip. Two daggers are strapped to her belt, one of them matching Nicky's. Andy is holding her axe, two bags, and a dagger. They each have serene expressions and closed eyes, as if they're not in a hurry. In the background, the seasons change from winter to spring, summer, fall. There is an old tree behind them, and its branches change with the seasons.]

[midoristeashop]

uhh, meow?

I swear they still run wild in my brain I JUST got custody back from art block I SWEAR

also new brushes I’m messing with :D (they’re cute but will probs not use in the future 🙂‍↕️)

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[kitnita]

happy last-stretch-of-baseball-season-before-hockey-season-starts to all who celebrate. can i interest you in an improved take on baseball au robotter?

[jadewritesficshere]

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

[imavikingo]

[baeshijima]

okay. so. since i have finished the wuthering waves main story currently available (act vi) as well as jiyan's story quest, i can finally have some thoughts about him to do somewhat of an analysis on his character (bear in mind this will still be quite limited since i don't have access to his voicelines/other character voicelines about him, along with his story since i just pulled him today ;w;)

this, uh, will also be long. like. long. you have been warned :'D !! (also slight geshu lin analysis bc parallels and contradictions and raahh)

for the sake of some spoilers for act vi and his story quest, the rest will be utc !!

1) how others see him

okay, so from what we've seen so far, jiyan is initially presented as a reliable and duty-bound character. he's a general, so of course he has to be responsible and be a certain way, especially when in front of his soldiers, who view him as all these characteristics as well as being relatively stoic and work-focused. this is hinted throughout the quests and through npcs, and in his story quest they're also hesitant to ask jiyan to join their team believing he wouldn't take part in such things like the gulpuff relay race, only for wenshu to say otherwise:

it isn't really a surprise that they wouldn't know jiyan has other sides to him; they're his subordinates. it's also typically what he shows them as "general jiyan", rather than just "jiyan" himself. basically just a line between work and personal life, if that makes it clearer.

the people of jinzhou, and the midnight rangers especially, all respect him. on top of being the youngest appointed general, he is presented as an "invincible warrior no enemy stood a chance against" (from his story: the reason to fight). he is essentially their light and voice of reason.

though this could be due to the fact jiyan tends to keep his troubles and pain to himself to avoid worrying those around him, and to continue performing what is expected of him as a general.

an example is during act vi, after jiyan confronted the geshu lin's phantom from the retroact rain:

this was also seen at the end of act vi, where i believe it was yuehui who commented on the wounded state of jiyan being worse than the majority, but returning to his duties shortly after and seemingly not resting properly to sufficiently recover. (well, jiyan was a medic, so hopefully he did properly tend to himself and have breaks... glares at him...)

all in all for this segment, jiyan is largely viewed as a powerful general whom the public and his soldiers know they can fall back on without worry, as they have full confidence in his abilities to protect.

2) his nature

another thing is that he is a very meticulous character. this is portrayed through his constant check-ups on the midnight rangers, the people, the area, and also through his habit of being very particular about cleanliness. (this was mentioned in his profile reveal, though i'm not sure if it's talked about anywhere in game.)

despite the responsibilities and consequences he faces, he makes sure everyone is looked after in his own way. i think it says a lot about him, and possibly about his family having a history of being in the line of medicine.

taken from his story: [what's inside his gourd?]

jiyan, however, has a tendency to hide his troubles from those around him, instead placing greater emphasis and priority on the current situation(s) or his comrades.

for instance, barely anyone is aware that the deceased soldiers — people whom he failed to save — haunt his nightmares, further pressured by the burden of his position and the fact every action of his can have even the slightest of consequences.

taken from his story: [the reason to fight]

he is resolute in this regard, fully committing to his beliefs and what he deems to be righteous. even despite the risks of overexertion which may follow, jiyan will still see it through to the end regardless of the outcome.

taken from his story: [the unyielding will]

(also, i would just like to say i'm thankful we do get mentions of ability overuse/overexertion confirmed, along with tacet mark sensitivity to a certain degree, since this could be one of the many triggers for overclocking (basically the loss of control of a resonator through a trigger of sorts), and i just want more lore and stuff on what overclock actually is. hopefully we get to see a character go through it in the future, as bad as it sounds, because it's just so fascinating and interesting and !! okay. back to the analysis. sorry.)

this was explicitly demonstrated during the boss fight in act vi, where jiyan jumped in front of us to take and block the attack sent our way, incidentally knocking him down and causing our "awakening", only to then quickly recover and continue supporting us through crucial moments during the fight, even at the cost of his own well-being (read: the injuries he later sustained that were mentioned by yuehui post act vi).

that doesn't mean he isn't sentimental to those around him. in fact, he is probably one of the most caring and (though can be in quite subtle ways) expressive characters we know of so far. in his own, discreet way, he makes sure everyone is tended to and left without worry no matter how trivial the problem, for that is his duty as their general and fellow comrade.

taken from his story: [silent caretaker]

following that, jiyan takes camaraderie very seriously. this is well-established in his story quest, wherein the basis of it surrounds jiyan's insight about his team, his comrades' sacrifice and honouring the dead.

as well as these lines from his trailer, wherein his resolve to save people was seen as futile from the veteran rangers who already lost hope.

and yet, despite their dissuasion, jiyan continued on doing what he can for his people, and to minimise the losses as much as possible going forward.

at the end of the quest in particular we see him at probably his most vulnerable, where he asks us to plant an emortia for him should he die (i won't let him.); the very same flower he has been planting for each passed soldier for who knows how long.

the whole scene gave us a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind where he is just "jiyan" with no title attached to him. in this scene, he is just a man who wishes for his fellow soldiers to be able to rest at ease knowing a new day will come, and that their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

3) geshu lin parallels sorry. i couldn't help myself. (i'm not sorry.)

also, i think another aspect i find interesting is the parallel between the current general jiyan, and the former general geshu lin. by this i mean geshu lin in both jiyan's trailer and the beginning-ish of act vi was depicted as someone ruthless in the way he is okay with there being sacrifices if it means they will achieve victory, and essentially sees avoiding that to be cowardly.

meanwhile, jiyan, as we have seen in the section prior, does his utmost to avoid as many casualties as he possibly can. a major part of his character is built around the notion of camaraderie and fighting for what he believes is right, which clashes with geshu lin's own thoughts.

even so, geshu lin notes how they are inherently similar, if not the same in a couple of instances:

jiyan's trailer also had geshu lin say this:

which could have a lot of implications, one of which being that they both want to save everyone and keep the peace of huanglong, yet their principles and how they go about it diverge in spite of their shared wish.

where geshu lin has little reservations (well, at least that we know about from this small snippet) about having to sacrifice his soldiers if it means achieving his end goal, jiyan will plan and plan and plan to do his utmost to reduce the number of casualties as possible while also maintaining efficiency, even if it means he alone has to go to the forefront to clear the way.

tldr: we love jiyan. he is the beloved. the best man who probably needs someone to constantly make sure he is prioritising himself despite his previous medic status. but we love him anyway. 🫶

[bizarrelittlemew]

i must confess i am a little bit obsessed with the idea of stede in the onesie like idk what is happening in my brain right now but something definitely is

[thecaptainsreverie]

wip snippet - fic name pending.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

racing the clock

prompt: race against the clock

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi everyone and welcome to my sixth year of whumptober!! i am so excited to be doing this again and i hope you like this first fic! it can be read as gen or ot3 or pre-ot3, whatever you feel like.

There’s a terrible noise in Napoleon’s head, a tick, tick, tick that counts down in time with the bumping of the car down the gravel road. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes and then Illya’s body will start shutting itself off irreparably. Thirty minutes. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

It has been five minutes and forty-three seconds from the time they’d found him strapped to that chair, struggling against iron restraints with the ferocity, the desperation, of one who knows that the clock is ticking. 

“Two minutes. Sixteen seconds,” the report from Illya on how long it had been since a man in a lab coat had stuck a needle into his arm and pushed the plunger. 

Napoleon had immediately taken up the count. 

They are miles away from the city, from medical help. Napoleon had radioed Waverly as soon as they’d flung themselves into the car. The earliest evacuation time is two hours too late. 

Gaby is driving as fast as she can. She isn’t counting time. Can’t afford to, isn’t built to. All of her focus is on driving the beat-up little Renault down a road neither it nor she especially wants to be on. Her right foot is glued to the gas pedal, the wheel merely an extension of her arms. She’s in top gear, has been since she’d gone smoking out of the flattened patch of grass she’d parked on. 

She isn’t thinking. It is her and the car and the road, and nothing else exists. 

Nothing else can exist, or she will not be able to work. 

In the backseat, Napoleon is still counting. Tick. Tick. Tick. Nine minutes. Twenty seconds. God knows how far there is still to go. 

Illya is by necessity pressed up to his side in the cramped seat. Heat radiates off him, and Napoleon doesn’t know if this is normal and he’s just noticing everything now, or whether it’s some effect of the drug.  

He thinks. About the worst, mostly. About what he is going to do if they’re not in time, if Illya starts dying. If Illya loses himself. If they lose him. 

It’s difficult to think these things through when Illya’s body is a heavy weight beside him, when Illya’s breathing—slightly irregular—is as loud as the ticking in his head, as the gravel on the road. 

He doesn’t dare speak. Doesn’t want to risk losing count. Instead he blindly reaches for Illya’s sweaty hand, squeezes. 

Illya leans into him more heavily, his head coming to rest on Napoleon’s shoulder. This close, the shaking is impossible to ignore. 

“Я хочу—,” Illya whispers, voice unsteady and afraid, but before he can say what it is he wants, they’re both thrown to the side as Gaby executes a screaming turn, and suddenly the horrible noise beneath the wheels drops away. 

Asphalt. A proper road. 

Fourteen minutes, forty-eight seconds. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Illya is silent. Napoleon’s heartbeat is thumping in his ears, but it has no hope of drowning out the clock. 

Gaby navigates through rapidly rising buildings, trying not to let relief overwhelm her. She still has to find a hospital. They still have to explain what’s wrong to a bunch of Portuguese doctors, and none of them speak Portuguese. 

Stop that. Drive. 

She’d seen signs for a hospital yesterday, driving through the city. She searches for familiar landmarks, finds none. Except—

There. A spire, rising up from behind a dreary apartment block that looks like it belongs back home. She knows where she’s going. A map forms itself in her mind. Fifteen minutes at the current speed limit. 

She’ll do it in ten, or maybe less. 

Napoleon does not let the increasingly more familiar cityscape outside calm him. Any number of things might still go wrong. Plus, getting to the hospital itself is hardly enough. It isn’t like Illya will magically be healed simply by virtue of being in the building. 

Please, he lets himself think, addressing no one and nothing in particular. Let us have time. 

His hand is still wrapped around Illya’s hand, and he’s squeezing every few seconds to make sure Illya’s still there. He gets weak squeezes in return, tappings of fingers, but they’re less and less sure every time. 

The hospital jumps into view as Gaby careens around a corner. Napoleon jostles Illya, directs his attention out the window so he knows what’s coming. 

Twenty-four minutes, six seconds. 

They screech to a halt outside the emergency entrance. Before Gaby’s gotten out of gear, Napoleon’s already half out of the car, pulling Illya along behind him. 

The next few minutes pass in a chaotic haze. Half dragging Illya into the hospital, Gaby hot on his heels. The frantic search for help, a doctor running up, “English?,” frantic explanations, reassurances, Illya being whisked away. 

And then it’s just them, standing in a waiting room with several Portuguese people eyeing them with a combination of confusion and interest. 

They both sort of collapse into each other. The clock in Napoleon’s head has gone silent in the chaos and without it he feels off-kilter, like he is missing something important. 

Gaby is thinking for the first time since she’d slid behind the wheel. Thoughts enter her mind too quickly to be processed in any semblance of order, emotions crashing over her in force. 

She’s shaking, she realizes, leaning into Napoleon. Or maybe it’s him. 

--

They wait. The doctor comes back out, and Napoleon has to forcibly restrain Gaby from jumping at him when he says he can’t say anything definite yet. She’s shaking, he thinks. It might be him, though. 

Finally, they’re given information. Illya is fine. No permanent damage. He needs rest, and they want to keep him for the night, for observation. 

They both start protesting at once. They can care for him. It’s what they do. And they should get out of here as soon as possible. Who knows how long it’ll take for someone to track them down, or to realize they’re not who they say they are. 

The nurse who’d delivered this information puts his hands up in surrender. They both slow down, turning to each other for mutual confirmation, comfort. 

Their evacuation will arrive in about an hour, Napoleon realizes, looking at his watch. They can contact the medical team, let them communicate with the hospital staff. 

He goes out to the car to relay this decision—well, technically it’s a suggestion, but he knows Waverly will agree. He finds it very illegally parked in much the same spot as they originally stopped in, which does not surprise him in the slightest. 

He pulls the car into an actual parking space, then calls up Waverly. He agrees, just as Napoleon had known he would. 

Back inside, Gaby sits in a chair beside Illya’s still, silent form. She’d been able to persuade the nurse to let her see him, and she isn’t sure what she’d been expecting. 

Not this. Illya is so small and pale lying in the hospital bed, IV in his arm, eyes closed. She wants him to wake up, to pull the needle from his skin, swing his long legs out from under the sheets and walk out the door as if nothing at all is the matter. 

Except he’d nearly died. That’s what the nurse had told her. Nearly died. 

But he hadn’t. He’s alive, albeit asleep, hurt, but he’s still here. No lasting damage. 

She slips her hand into his, careful not to jostle the IV. She squeezes, but his hand remains limp. 

Napoleon enters the room a few moments later, and she knows from his expression that Waverly had agreed to their proposal. She watches him take in Illya’s body, sees the pain in his eyes, the relief, the dregs of fear. 

He sits down opposite her and takes up Illya’s other hand, and they wait, the three of them, together.

thanks for reading!! fun fact in an unprecedented and shocking turn of events i have managed to write a substantial amount of fics ahead of time this year (including this one!!) wow ahh ooh

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[gaybearwedding]

hi hi hello i have been gone forever due to various reasons such as “work” and “mental illness” and “having developed a kpop hyperfixation that has been occupying most of my attention recently” but i need everyone to know that i saw off book live twice last week (in philly with a friend and then in nyc with my girlfriend) and it was truly so everything. i didn’t get many pictures but i did get a few and none of them are very good but one of them is of jess’ amazing stool balancing act and that’s all i need really

[introspectivememories]

YELLING OVER YOUR LATEST POST. NOT ONLY DO I HAVE A MASSIVE JJK HYPERFIXATION BUT I LITERALLY STUDY CLASSICS ABSVSBSNSJDJSS. I am the exact audience for this I am so in love with it you have no idea 😭😭 How do you manage to hit me every time omg

AJ!!!!! YOU STUDY CLASSICS???? INCREDIBLE

also i wanted to originally make it closer to canon. so the roles would be switched. nanami, who leaves the jujutsu world (ithaca) and goes on a long treacherous (capitalism) journey (the odyssey) only to find his way back to the jujutsu world/gojo (penelope) and when he's back he meets yuji (telemachus).

the slaying of the suitors can be when yuji and nanami beat the shit out of mahito. does this work? idk, you tell me. but the idea of gojo being odysseus and nanami being penelope waiting back home tricking his suitors was infinitely more enticing than the canon-sompliant version.

also the odyssey!nng fic is being written!!! do you want to read it????

anyway, you can't be in love with me bc im in love with you!!! my family is sick of hearing about the timbern drawing you did for the veil!au. i love you always aj <33333

[carlos-tk]

sometimes i can’t believe i was posting wips every single wednesday and sunday for literal months like who even was that person

[queenerdloser]

i'm writing a speculative short story for this writing class i'm taking where a cleaning robot witnesses a bloody mutiny and its aftermath. (why? no clue, i just love the idea.) for a long time, i only knew what i wanted the robot to be named and just had placeholders for the humans involved, but yesterday i finally went in and gave them all names. and halfway through the naming game i had the VERY amusing (to me) thought of giving the ship officers all names of historical ship officers involved in deadly ship crashes that ended in cannibalism. (the mutiny that serves as the plot is based on a lack of food resources after their ship gets attacked lol.) so the ship's first officer is named fitzjames. i'm rubbing my hands together eagerly waiting to see who will expose themselves as terror fans in this class or if i'll get away with my easter eggs.

[staraxiaa]

chromatic (kirishima fic) update

how it started, chromatic v1:

how it’s (maybe) going, subject to change:

ive just started part III btw