#wip1

[special-forces-boy]

🛐 ; <- W I L L I A M —— ⊹🔫

Rated TV-M This blog contains mature rated content: offensive, graphic violence, excessive violence, excessive profanity, moral ambiguity, vulgar, controversial, slurs, alcohol, drugs, smoking.

“ Expect

. . . nothing. ”

Fictive, redacted, physically(iw/hs) looks to be in late 30s / literal age is 75.

he/him — masc. terms

· Do not infantilize, I’m a grown man. · Do not jump to defend someone if you get offended for them. · Do not bring discourse to my blog. · Do not stalk blog. more. . .

Base account : @kicked-carcass

you'll receive follows/likes from the account tagged above.

♪ Rippin' with my sinners

♪ 'cause fuck it, man, I ain't no beginner

Sourced from The Boys oc-au / Married.

Reading the warnings above and proceeding means you understand them and won’t get pissy with me when you see on my blog the exact thing the warnings are put in place for. Assuming things of these warnings without anything to back it up isn’t recommended because I much rather not repeat myself.

If you rather not be involved with me for any reasons, just tell me that and we can go on about our separate ways. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to be fumbling around some bullshit with people when I can be putting that time, patience and energy into better things.

Communicate with me and if you need to ask for my tone on something, feel free to and I will provide it.

I’m bound to fuck up things, I’m bad with pronouns and all that so if you’re not okay with a person making a mistake, leave my blog.

I cannot stand filtering or watering myself down. If I notice I’ve done something that’s resulted in you sticking your nose up at me or some other negatively impacted reaction in general, I will distance myself from you or drop you altogether. Just be direct with me.

I’m bound to make offensive jokes, if you assume I’m serious, that isn’t on me & I refuse to over explain myself to you.

I don’t welcome hatred towards the oppressed and I will happily express it.

Our first impression to one another sets the energy I’m going to return to you.

I can be very contradictive.

I don’t take kindly to being interrogated past a no.

As I’m apart of a system, if you meet my other headmates they will not be just like me and I’m not going to be just like them. We all hold different opinions, beliefs, etc even if some of us might be similar.

Feel free to drop in my ask box and I will answer when I can. I’m also indifferent with questions towards my source.

credit to @the-fucking-homelander for making this pinned layout. / credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers.

TAGS ——

#wip → my introduction post.

#wip -> my posts.

#wip -> my drawings.

#wip -> inbox responses.

#me -> posts (that remind me) of myself.

#my dad -> posts (that remind me) of my dad.

#my brother -> posts (that remind me) of my brother.

#Mordred -> posts that remind me of Manakete system collectively.

#The Murder -> posts that remind me of my system.

#house tips -> random house tips I saved.

[hagcore]

recent will epiphanies:

i was wrong about him having nice nails. hes a biter. Noted!

right about him never doing his own laundry

[starlightsarchive]

Complexity of Light WIP

hi, this is just something I've been working on lately. It originally was based on something else, but i think I'm changing it to be about anxiety. this is just a WIP. (work in progress)

87 wc | anxiety

The lights never soften here Their glow intensifies under every thought When the bulb begins to flicker, its never out for long It comes back brighter like it was there all along

Some days I look up and it's gone Forcing me through blind navigation Walls lose the memory of where they belong Tense air settles in after, darkness tailoring perfectly to my body

Finally the pressure relents And the air gets pulled loose by the wind Moving softly beneath the double sky Revealing an unwalked path

stararchives 2026 Original Work

Note: Gentle critiques welcome. I'm probably gonna change a couple lines. My theme is light if you couldn't tell lol. I like the visual I get reading this, but I don't know.. there's something about the wording that's not resonating with me. I'll update whenever I decide to edit it :) Also, if you're on desktop pls ignore the fact the title is not centered...Have an AMAZING day.

both dividers made by the amazing @uzmacchiato check their work out <3 and thank you for reading my work if you choose so ><

[huis-one-man-show]

WIP#1, also known as "what-if-jjk-got-the-marvel-treatment?"

I had this idea while JJK was still on-going, it might've been during the start of the Culling Game Arc, and I've been working on it on-and-off ever since. This was also before I got into DC and was reading Spiderman and Daredevil fanfics ^^;

It evolved from exploring the idea of Megumi being Daredevil and Yuji being Spiderman, to merging the sorcerer society with a superhero world. The world building is based on the idea that the jujutsu society is intertwined with superheroes and the government to handle and control the Cursed Spirit population. Megumi and Tsumiki are still adopted by Gojo and Geto (yes, they are safe with me) but they're very much kept out of the whole sorcerer shenanigans because they wanted to give the kiddos a normal shot at life that they weren't able to get :")

(side note: I have written the full fleshed lore of exactly how Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami and Haibara make it out of the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death Arc in one piece o-o)

Megumi still gets his ten shadows cursed technique and abuses it to have an animal army, he's still a high school thug and he's still a grouch, except, he's on his way to becoming a vet, he grows up with a mostly present family, and he's a normal teenager.

He meets sweet summer child Yuji in high school when they get paired to work on the same group project, and meets Yuji's vigilante identity by chance when he almost gets robbed one night. Megumi recognises Yuji using cursed techniques to enhance himself and his soft heart worries for the boy (but also they are group mates, 40% of his biology grades are riding on him god help him–).

Resigned, Megumi gets Gojo to mentor and look out for Yuji, he now owes him one tch, and everything goes back to normal. That is, until transfigured humans start popping up. Yuji gets involved (of course he does), he starts being less productive and more hurt during project meetups and– great. Now Megumi's involved too.

It is silly. It has your typical seventeen year old hijinks and their harebrained decisions. It is the fan favourite grumpy x sunshine duo. It's a beautiful world and nothing hurts :") I have essentially the entire plot written out and finalised, it's sitting at about 16 chapters – it all comes down to actually writing it now LOL

[skelemen]

Ryker and Jude’s First Meeting

This is a blurb of Ryker and Jude’s first meeting that was never finished. These two are characters from an unnamed WIP, and this part in particular may or may not make it into the actual story itself. I’m honestly going to just keep posting my writing because what is anyone going to do about it? Unfollow me? Go ahead, I dare you.  Story: Unnamed WIP Characters: Ryker Wardlaw, Jude Rhodes, Willow Wardlaw (mentioned), Theron Wardlaw (mentioned) CW: mentions of drug use both magical and mundane

Ryker’s been awake for three days, unable to sleep after the most recent visit he had with Theron and Willow. He’s supposed to be on the lookout for a pair of siblings somewhere in the city, but it isn’t like he was given much information to go off of. The only thing Willow told him was that he would know when he found them. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

Part of him thinks it’s just some test that he’s meant to fail. Another reason for them to hate him more than they already do, to degrade him until he’s left drinking in his apartment by himself, to make it clear their investment in him wasn’t worth it. At least his adoptive parents don't punish him anymore, but that’s because they know they don’t have to.

He punishes himself.

So he’s on his third day of no sleep, dark purple circles hidden behind sunglasses as he paces in an alley on a side of town that he normally wouldn’t be on. The snow is finally starting to melt, but the temperatures remain rather chilly despite the sun shining brightly. Ryker wishes the person he got his potions from would just deliver. They did once before claiming his whole building had very dark vibes and would never step foot in there again.

Normally Ryker would have heard someone coming -- seen them at least. Today his mind is too caught up in a million thoughts that all scream out to him within the walls of his skull. The past few days haven’t been kind, so why would today be any different?

The first thing that snaps Ryker out of his own thoughts is the feeling of scalding hot liquid pouring down the front of him. The second is the resulting weight of the owner of the hot liquid stumbling into Ryker. He’s unable to stop the way he shoves the other person away from him and lets out a string of swears, already on edge if he ignores the fact his skin is burning right now.

“Holy shit! I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” the person Ryker ran into says, ignoring how they were shoved away to immediately start using their own shirt to clean up Ryker’s now stained white button down. Ryker lets out a noise of frustration and confusion as he looks at the stranger in front of him.

  The clumsy stranger has a mess of dark brown hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed in a long time. His clothes look too thin for how cold it is outside, and Ryker can see a few holes in them. Almost like he can feel Ryker’s glare, the stranger who appears to be the same age as him – only eighteen and both too old in their minds – looks up at him with the brightest green eyes.

“Stop fucking touching me,” Ryker says, pushing the stranger away again. He quickly utters a spell to pull what he’s assuming to be coffee from the front of his shirt to form a dark brown blob that falls to the concrete with a flick of Ryker’s hand. When Ryker looks back up, the stranger is still staring at him. But those green eyes quickly fall to where the coffee is now puddled on the ground, tears beginning to well up.

Is this guy really about to start crying over spilled coffee? Ryker doesn’t have the patience for this right now. And where the fuck is his connection with the potions?

“Well, fuck,” the stranger says, letting out a somewhat broken chuckle. “I was supposed to spend that money on food, but we haven’t had coffee all winter.” He wipes away a stray tear as he laughs again lightly. Ryker doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do right now, especially when the stranger looks up and smiles at him brightly. “Are you okay?”

Ryker is the farthest thing from okay right now.

Are you going to tell this pretty boy all your problems?

It’s not like he has anyone else.

“Shut up,” Ryker growls out, tossing a look over his shoulder as he pulls at his hair. He uses his other hand to press against the skin of his stomach that got slightly burned from the coffee that was spilled on it. The resulting sting allows his scattered brain to focus somewhat more on the situation he’s currently in.

The younger man looks concerned for Ryker now, starting to take a step towards him. Ryker can’t help the way he stumbles a step back in response, hand on his stomach quickly moving to reach into his jacket pocket. He also untangles his other hand from his hair, ignoring the pale silver strands that must have been ripped out as he pulls the cash in his wallet that was supposed to be for the person he was meeting.

“Just take this,” Ryker growls out, shoving the bills into the stranger’s hands without thinking it through as he passes. “For the coffee.” He doesn’t give the younger man any chance to respond, deciding that he would just go home and deal with the consequences of having neither an adequate sleep aid or the potions to keep him going.

  He forgets about the interaction entirely as soon as he’s three blocks away.

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After another two days, Ryker attempts to meet with his potions dealer again. They complain that it was Ryker’s fault that he didn’t get the potions last time. Apparently he was supposed to go inside the coffee shop. This time goes much smoother, although Ryker looks much worse than last time. He makes sure to get a coffee before he leaves the shop, pouring one of the potions into it as he passes the alley he was in before.

“Hey!” A voice calls out, but Ryker’s used to ignoring the sounds of people on the streets, existing entirely in his own world. He replaces the lid to his cup, chugging a good amount of the burning liquid despite the way it burns his throat slightly. “Hey! Tall and gloomy!”

This time, the words are followed by someone grabbing on lightly to Ryker’s arm. It takes him by surprise enough that he yanks out of their grip and shoves them away. His free hand is pulled up, ready to shoot off some kind of spell to make it very clear that he wants to be left the hell alone.

But Ryker is staring at bright green eyes and the biggest grin through his dark sunglasses, both striking some kind of familiarity in him. The stranger has his hands up defensively, one of his hands gripping something in them.

  “Sorry! I forgot you don’t like to be touched,” he says to Ryker, slowly putting his hands down when it’s clear Ryker isn’t going to attack him. “You’re hard to find, you know that?”

People are passing them by, some giving the pair dirty looks for taking up the middle of the sidewalk to stand there and talk. Ryker is giving the stranger his own dirty look, wondering what this guy could possibly want from him. More money?

“I don’t have any more cash on me,” Ryker tells the stranger coldly, giving him a once over. He at least looks like he’s showered since the last time they saw each other, but that’s about it.

“Oh, that’s not…” The stranger cuts himself off, looks around, and motions for Ryker to follow him off into an alley opening so that they aren’t having this conversation in the way of everyone else. He doesn’t even wait for Ryker to agree, confident enough to not even spare a glance to make sure Ryker is following. Ryker considers just walking away again – apparently for too long because then the stranger tosses a glance in his direction.

Ryker almost misses the concern on the stranger’s face. He is able to catch it before it’s gone, and he can’t help the way he follows behind the younger man afterward, body buzzing from the bit of potion he already drank.

He stops in the opening of the alley, still in plain sight of passersby in case this is an attempt at a robbery. Ryker’s more than capable of defending himself, but after taking this potion, he wants evidence that the murder was in self defense.

“You shouldn’t buy coke from Liam. He cuts all of his product with nasty shit, and you seem alright enough – enough being that I don’t think you deserve to overdose on Fiend blood.” It’s the first thing the stranger says to him, quietly like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “Also, you gave me a lot of money the other day and I can’t take it.” The stranger holds up what Ryker hadn’t noticed earlier, a bunch of bills crumpled together.

It’s change from the three one hundred dollar bills Ryker gave him without thinking it through, and he’s glad the guy actually used some of it. He takes another sip of his coffee and potion mix before he responds.

“I don’t do coke, and I don’t know a Liam.”

You don’t do coke anymore.

You don’t do a lot of the fun things that you used to.

Ryker ignores both what his shadows are saying to him and the cash being extended towards him. He almost wishes he had more cash he could shove at the other man to end this interaction.

“Oh, well you just look like Liam’s normal buyers. Too rich for this side of town and lurking in alleys,” the stranger replies, shaking the hand holding the cash now that Ryker still hasn’t made a move to take it back. “Really, man. Three hundred dollars is way too much. I got a room for the week and some food, but I really can’t take the rest.” (Again, this blurb wasn’t ever really finished beyond this. Maybe I’ll come back and finish it one day)

[lonestarbabe]

hey elise! i would love to see a bonus scene for "holding out for a hero 👀

I love the way you think! An excellent choice!

The First Show

Carlos watching T.K.’s first show on the tour.

One of the moments on tour that Carlos could never forget was the very first show. Carlos could hear the crowd roaring from where he stood backstage, and he pitied the poor souls in the crowd who hadn’t thought to bring earplugs to the concert. He’d been to a lot of concerts in his teenage years and early twenties, so he was familiar with the exuberance that could fill a crowd of people coming together over beloved songs, but he’d never heard a crowd as rowdy as the one at T.K.’s concert. While he had never seen T.K. perform live before, he’d been T.K.’s bodyguard long enough that he knew the Strand Stans vied to show their support for T.K. to alarming concerns at times.

The other day, T.K. had gone out to a restaurant, bring Carlos as his company, and after a fellow patron of the restaurant had posted a sneaky picture of T.K., a group of around fifty fans mobbed the restaurant, all wanting a moment with T.K. Carlos had felt panic bubble when the owner of the restaurant had told him that they didn’t have a back entrance. “They’re not dangerous,” T.K. had told Carlos when they stepped out to flashing lights and The fans didn’t mean harm, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t a threat. Carlos took his job seriously, and that was partly because for all the partying and reckless behavior, T.K. took his job seriously too, which meant that he liked to go right out into the mob, sign autographs and take pictures even if it was dangerous to do so. T.K. didn’t want to let fans down and Carlos didn’t want to let T.K. down. Even when there was a back entrance, T.K. didn’t like to use it.

Before the show, Carlos hadn’t been sure that there would be a show at all with the way the day had gone. T.K. had been in a bad mood all day, probably because he was hungover. He looked sick, and no matter what anyone tried, a miserable expression remained on T.K.’s face. When Carlos found T.K. throwing up in a trashcan just thirty-minutes before the show, swaying on his feet, the chances of the show going on seemed slim. It was only the first day of the tour, and things were already tumbling off course.

“Are you okay?” Carlos had asked.

T.K. had forced a smile, and said, “Pre-show jitters. I’m fine.”

“Does this always happen before your shows?”

“I’ll take one of those magical anti-nausea pills and I’ll be fine,” and sure enough, he’d gone on stage forty minutes later with a grin and a greeting to the crowd that was full of bravado and not a hint of sickness.

T.K. was a different person when he was on stage, Carlos noticed. Carlos couldn’t help but smile as T.K. joked with the crowd between songs. If Carlos was put in front of a crowd of thousands of people, he’d be awkward and uncomfortable, but T.K. had no problem entertaining them. It was no wonder his fans were so dedicated. Carlos was becoming a convert himself, becoming enchanted by the mystery and the charmer that was T.K. Strand.

After the show, T.K. wanted to go to a party, and Carlos noticed that T.K.’s confidence wavered when he was off stage. His smile darkened, and the voice of an angel was swapped for a black hole of self-destruction. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it easy?” Carlos said.

“What? Why?” Judd had warned Carlos about tour T.K. and how much wilder T.K. got after shows, and Carlos wanted to combat T.K.’s self-destructive tendencies as well as he could. T.K. had been sick all day, and he was in no state to do god knows what with god knows who.

“You were sick,” Carlos argued.

“Yeah, before the show. I’m better now,” T.K. assured Carlos, the weariness he’d had before nowhere in sight. “Shows are the best medicine.”

“Yeah, but you still need sleep or you’ll wake up feeling like shit. You have a full agenda tomorrow.”

“Don’t be the fun police.”

“You’ll have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Even the threat of waking up early didn’t get to T.K. “That’s why I’m going to have fun now.” T.K. was starting to look annoyed, so Carlos knew that pushing him any further.

“I can’t force you to do anything,” Carlos conceded. He felt like an enabler, watching T.K. spiral and even taking part in it, but he was doing a job, and if T.K. had no interest in keeping himself safe, Carlos would stand by his side, ready to step in if things got dire. “I’m just trying to be…” he wanted to say friend, but he also didn’t want to cross too many boundaries. “A good bodyguard.”

“Then, act like the good bodyguard and hang over my shoulder all you want but don’t tell me what to do.”

“I can’t stop you from going out, but don’t try to slip away from me like you did last time.” T.K. was alarmingly good at sneaking away from Carlos even after Carlos warned him how dangerous that behavior was.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m paid to make sure you don’t have to.”

“I think your shift is over.”

“I get paid extra during overtime.”

“You seem like the kind of guy who would rather spend his time with friends and family than make more money.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not exactly home right now,” and Carlos knew that he would be up all night worrying about T.K. anyway. T.K. could get out of a lot of situations on his own, but he was still a celebrity and there was a reason Judd had hired Carlos in the first place.

T.K. shook his head. “Why do you care so much anyway?” his voice is acerbic.

“Because Judd would kill me if something happened to you,” and I’d never forgive myself.

[tearact]

WIP1

#NiGHTS

[fadinginfluencerblaze]

I was recently asked to illustrate an Australian friend of mine as a 'BadAss.' Well here is the first sketch of badass Maddy: Furry made of Fury. Maddy Fury might be a good name for her. #wip1 #commission #inkdrawing #sketchoftheday #badass https://www.instagram.com/p/CDRNPUppbws/?igshid=jikge64ta5oa