#i meant to post this way later...

[this-is-krikkit]

hi!! read you're doing prompts, can you do the 9th? i feel like it's a perfect one for levihan 😂

send me a number and a ship and i'll write a drabble!

thank you for sending this prompt ! it does have undeniable levihan vibes to it 😏

Prompt 9. “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

Zeke (★now edited and posted on ao3 ★)

Characters: Levi, Hange, Zeke

Tags: modern au, levihan, no zekehan or zevi i promise, i just think i'm hilarious sometimes and you guys have to deal with it hehehe, erumike mentioned, tw alcohol mention ig

.

Hange gets out of the shower, puts on the clean shirt Levi had left for them in the bathroom and sneaks into the bedroom quietly. They successfully stop a yelp from escaping and only wince as they bump their toe into their bedside table, and put the miraculously unspilled glass of water they'd brought in with them on it.

They crawl under the duvet quickly, delighted to have made it here just as the hangover headache was starting to make their head throb, and frown as they realize something heavy has taken over most of their side of the bed. They reach back and click their light on, and feel their eyes widening as they take in the sight.

"What the- Levi, what's Zeke doing here?" they ask, way too loud even by their own standards.

"Fuck's sake, four-eyes," Levi moans, voice groggy and dry, "what's it look like? He's sleeping. And so am I, so shut the fuck up and turn the damn light off."

Hange bites their lip to stop themself from commenting on his bed hair or the adorably cranky look on his half asleep face, and obey his order.

Before they swiftly climb over both him and the dog, and stretch their arm far enough to turn on the light on his own bedside instead. They fully laugh when Levi whines again, swearing some more, and the Husky joins his protest with a loud howl.

"And where do I sleep, grumpy-grumps?" Hange asks, fluffing the dog's fur, who quickly calms down at the attention.

"I don't care, just get out of my bed," Levi replies, his voice all muffled from speaking into his pillow as he protects his eyes from the sting of the light.

Hange gasps in faked horror, Zeke looking up at them in concern at the sound.

"You can't banish me! This is my bed too!"

Levi groans again, and blindly feels behind him with his hand.

"Not anymore," he sighs in reflief when he finds his mark and darkness replaces the cruel artificial light. "Now it's mine and Zeke's."

"Right... and since when do you allow this- how'd you put it again- 'overactive drama queen of a hairball', to get on the sheets you love so much and shed all over them?" Hange pushes, genuinely curious.

"Since you leave me for two nights in a row to go on a weekend-long party with your brother and his brainless jock friends. And I was planning on changing the sheets later today anyway," he adds as an afterthought.

"Mike's bachelor party was fun, honey, thank you for asking," Hange replies playfully. "But I still don't understand how that has anything to do with your rules regarding the dog's sleeping-

"For your information, your four legged soulmate here wouldn't stop whining and howling at the front door until I let him come in here," he interrupts in a huff. "I don't know what he was so anxious about, but he had a really hard time sleeping without you around."

Hange's eyes have grown accustomed to the shadows by now, and they don't miss the way Levi stares at Zeke, actively avoiding to look at their own face. They should have known from the minute they came home and Levi was still in bed in the middle of the day that his insomnia had been acting up again, and it twists something in their gut to hear him confess so in his own twisted way, especially when they know he'd been working long hours the week before.

They hum and perch themself back on what little space they've got left on their side of the bed, letting one of their hands land on Levi's pillow to ruffle his hair and massage his scalp as they pet the dog's fur with the other.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to rest properly," they say softly.

Levi sighs, and his fingers link with theirs over the dog's belly.

"From the looks of you right now, I'd say you didn't either," he jokes. "Did you really have fun?"

"So much. I don't see how Erwin's going to beat that next weekend, honestly."

"Well, don't tell him that. He's so competitive he'd do the craziest shit just to try and prove you wrong."

They feel their own grin widening, and Levi chuckles when he spots it.

"Tch, four-eyes..." he warns, shaking his head in faked disapproval.

"Come on, what's the point of being one groom's sibling and the other's best friend if I don't get to mess with them a little?"

They yawn around the end of the sentence, which makes it sound way less villainous than they'd meant.

"Better get some rest while you can, then, evil mastermind," Levi scoffs, failing to hide his own reflex yawn.

Hange vaguely remembers letting out a weak laugh and pinching his nose in retaliation for his mocking tone, before falling into deep slumber.

[cologona]

The victim-blaming of Jason Todd is such an ugly refutation of what his Robin was meant to stand for it’s depressing.

Worse yet the victim-blaming ultimately neither absolves Bruce nor works as a proper narrative patch for the hole his death left in the fantasy. If Jason wasn’t good enough to be Robin and Bruce’s greatest mistake was to give him the mantle, it’s still Bruce’s mistake for putting a vulnerable unprepared kid in the line of fire.

So now not only is the narrative making the ugly statement that actually, some people (*cough cough* poor and marginalized people) are not worthy of being empowered, and are better off keeping their head down than to try and make a positive impact, Bruce still looks like a total piece of shit.

I for one am comfortable with Bruce being a piece of shit. He’s a complex and flawed character etc etc. What I won’t stand for is Batman’s greatest mistake being believing in Robin; that condescending mess of a moral the story turned to. Bruce fucked up nine kinds of ways when he met Jason, but the one thing he got right was recognizing Jason’s worthiness to be a hero.

The child soldier issue is only an issue so long as we’re unable to articulate how it was Bruce’s continual failure to understand and provide for Jason’s needs as an individual and communicate with him, that created the precarious situation which lead to his death. (Bruce’s self-centerednsss leads to a teenager’s death twice after Steph.)

I don’t think it was an accident that Jason’s introduction included an arc where he found out Bruce hid his father’s death from him right as he officially became Robin. That was meant to be a wake-up call for Bruce. This boy isn’t Dick, he isn’t you. He doesn’t do this out of grief or out of anger. He is the will to do good given power, and to be his partner you must step outside of your own perspective.

[galactaknightyaoi]

☀️ IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!! 🌙

This is my gift to myself :) I drew my favorite guys ever.

For a while I've been itching to draw the wedding outfits from this post again. I made them up on the fly as I was drawing, but I actually really like how they ended up turning out. They're super cute!! (though, yet again, you can't see almost any part of Dedede's outfit... 💔)

But then I couldn't get it out of my head to make a companion piece for it, with their mirror versions. And so. I did. What they have going on is a little bit messy, though...

Marriage or divorce!! Take your pick.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

Alex Turner + gushing talking about Miles Kane

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

[nyupuun]

Happy Pride to my most gorgeous girls!!!

[marzipanandminutiae]

Marzi's Old House Supply Kit: A Non-Exhaustive List

So you've moved into an old house! Congratulations! No, no, look at me. Look in my eyes. Congratulations. You don't need smart lighting. You don't need paltry things like "showers that don't make ungodly noises if you set the water outside a very specific temperature range" or "logical staircases." Because those people who say They Built Them Sturdier Back Then is survivorship bias are wrong, lead paint is only a problem if you eat it, and your new home is basically a tank

also it might have stained glass. so basically you win

(no but seriously the Survivorship Bias argument is just like. tell me you don't live in a city with large quantities of remaining working-class 110-year-old buildings without telling me. I do. they're sturdier. end of.)

but you might need some things to make it a bit more comfortable. here's what I've found, over eight years of living in houses built 1920 or earlier

Power strips. Depending on the age of your house, it may or may not have had electricity originally. And even if it did, whoever lived there almost certainly had fewer things to plug in than the average denizen of the 2020s. There also may have been gorgeous wall sconces that some asshole heartlessly ripped out at some point, forcing you to use the hideous hateful Overhead LightTM or plug in a bunch of lamps. Either way, you're going to need to turn that single outlet in the room into several more. Hence, power strips.

(hey, I never said this list was free of my design biases. deal)

A Good Fan. You may live in a place where retrofitting with air conditioning was commonplace in the last several decades. I do not. So a good pedestal fan can make the difference between comfort and just not sleeping at all from late June to mid-September. Weirdly, I did once look at a place that was from the 1850s and had been retrofitted with central A/C, which is vanishingly rare in even urban Massachusetts. But I digress.

A stud-finder. "Marzi, you spent years of your life explaining to tourists that picture rails existed because trying to hammer nails directly into horsehair plaster and then putting weight on them did Bad Things." Yes I did. "What did you attempt to do the second week of living in your first house with horsehair plaster?" ...shut up. I used the Poltergeist Method to find solid wood- I don't know if it's actually studs or the lath or what; I'm not a builder -to hang my Lady and the Unicorn tapestry from, namely knocking on the wall until it doesn't sound hollow. You might want to go a bit quieter and more advanced. Or, if you have a picture rail, embrace the "long visible hanging wires" look. It is in fact there for a reason!

Window screens. You are actually required by Massachusetts state law to provide these to your tenants. Doesn't mean my last landlady did. And if you own your place, live in another state, or have a similarly laissez-faire building owner, you might end up needing to Bring Your Own Insect-Blocking Shield. Just make sure you've got them, one way or the other. Because see above re: fan vs. air conditioning in old houses.

WD-40. When's the last time those hinges were oiled? Potentially before television. And they WILL squeak. UPDATE I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT WD-40 IS NOT A GOOD LONGTERM SOLUTION. Find "actual oil." Not sure what the more specific name is. Good to know!

That's just what I've found needful so far, but I'm happy to update the list as required!

And you'd better believe, if I owned my own place, this would include "the name of a preservation contractor to undo all the unnecessary ~*MoDeRnIzInG*~ aesthetic bullshit the past owners did since the End of Mainstream Western House Beauty AKA 1920 (That Brief Rococo Revival In the 1930s Can Maybe Sit With Us)"

[hexcii]

A couple days ago I got an ask asking if I ever draw fat people and I’m thinking about it rn cause I’m drawing my ocs and I’m just- idk confused??? Cause basically all the art I post here are of the dca who are scrawny ass robots in canon, and my sona (and Y/Ns who I base off of myself)

Guess I’m just a bit miffed about it since I’ve stated that what I like drawing is self ship

[solplease]

here's something no one asked for, my ocs when they were a bit younger! :] (more like how they were in highschool lmfao) ((not aster tho sorry my king. u did not have a highschool.))

as always, close ups and more info under the cut!! OH and i put an updated relationship chart at the very end!! it's in writing this time because i thought that would be easier (it's long.) </3 i am so sorry in advance there's a lot under this HAHA

lune:

lune was a little shit, he's very rebellious now but he was even more rebellious when he was a teenager lmfao

he would CONSTANTLY get into fights, anyone that pissed him off he did not hesitate to attack

his relationship with his parents was already bad but it quickly deteriorated at this point in time

he was relatively popular in school but uh, everyone stayed away from him or tried to be on his good side because... well yk! didn't wanna get attacked..?

also people thought he was annoying but hey at least he was good looking!

he did not know he was popular btw. like at all, no idea, still doesn't know

his grades were like... okay, not great, but not bad, and he would skip class a lot... dumbass

his nails were constantly painted different colours bc cecilia would do them often, he was also never seen without a bracelet on his right wrist

huge troublemaker (some things never change!)

he hasn't really changed since then lmao

cecilia:

she was a bit more reserved back in highschool, still nice and friendly but she had a hard time approaching others because she was nervous (and others found her a bit intimidating cause she didn't smile much) ((and she's related to lune and that guy was known for being crazy))

her and lune were known as "those rich twins"

was constantly stressing over lune because of how much he got in trouble it's not like their parents would do anything about it.

kept her hair long and undyed! she liked doing different things with her hair and would try out diffy styles a lot of the time

she liked having long hair, and randomly cut it off impulsively lmfao (3 am on a school night, she couldn't sleep and was like ok why not)

good student, wasn't always at school but she was doing well

hated going to school, couldn't tell you why, just hated it

she was really awkward as a teen, but she was trying her best

always had bracelets on, if you saw her she had a bunch on her left hand, and then just one on her right.

always had her nails done (she did them herself ^^)

would always carry a few hair ties on her in case any one needed to tie their hair

one time she tried to be cool and approached a girl who didn't have a hair tie and just dropped it in her hands and walked away (she then walked out of class bc she felt embarrassed)

she tried out a lot of different clothing styles

nox:

so, he still had a shitty sleep schedule!

hard to find, he was always somewhere, no one knew where tho

good student, did not give two shits about school though

not very memorable? he was quiet and would leave as soon as he could

every time there was a group project he would ask the teacher to work alone

didn't have any friends.

his classmates were kinda scared of him lol

would braid his hair a lot

had blue on him at all times, there will ALWAYS be blue in his outfits, whether it’s the shirt, pants, or a hair tie, he always had SOMETHING blue on him (this applies now too)

no one really knew much about him, and he liked keeping it that way

fuckass edgelord (kinda)

he was always like 5 minutes late to his first class (there was a cat that would wander around in front of the school and... he couldn't resist)

he would go see that cat every day btw. before and after school, he would also go eat lunch outside so he could see the cat (and he always brought something for it too!)

loser

cassian:

very social! had a lot of friends and was very outgoing

always doodling in class

he was rather popular! and well i guess some people didn't like that

he was known as the rich kid but people were always giving him things because he was super sweet HAHA

a really bright and helpful guy

he was usually seen with a smile on his face

it's a shame how things turned out, hm?

he would bring his shoujo manga to class and just read that (he was always sitting at the back of the classroom bc he was tall so the teachers didn't really pay attention to what he was doing)

and in the rare chance his teachers saw him doing something other than classwork they would mostly let it slide, he's a good kid, so it's fine (favouritism.)

lowkey the typical popular shoujo manga male lead (wow! just like he wanted!)

really good student too, always on top of his stuff

he had these sword earrings that he really liked, he used to wear them a lot!

always wore darker and muted colours, and liked more comfortable clothing

no one said anything but they really missed him after he left, maybe if someone helped him, things would've been different

rowan:

was completely different when he was younger

always angry, or sad, no one really knew what he looked like when he smiled

no one knew what was going on with him

but he was quiet, and didn't talk to many people, he wasn't a mean or scary kid, but people were still intimidated by him

his hair was longer and uneven, it looked like he had cut random bits and pieces

he was smart but wasn't doing so well in school

it always looked like something was stressing him out

he would stay behind after school

tense and uneasy most of the time

hair super healthy tho LMFAO (his mom would oil his hair regularly!)

he was completely different around his mom though, his source of comfort

if anyone from highschool saw him now they'd think he was a completely different person (in terms of personality, since he looks... pretty much the same)

although, in the last few months of highschool, his demeanor had changed for the better, he didn't smile much still but he looked a lot more relaxed and calm

aster: (his stuff is different because he didn't have school in his world lmfao. but here's how he was as a teenager and some other info about him!)

his hair was reallyyyyyyy long when he was still in his world (you end up cutting his hair when he came here lmfao)

he was really lonely because he was the only elf in his world and he had no company whatsoever

he ended up collecting a lot of things because he would wander around a LOT

dora the explorer has nothing on him bro

he was (and is) very curious about things, he really likes to learn

he somehow learned how to braid his own hair, would spend a lot of time doing that when he was bored

he has a horrible sense of fashion, you took him shopping once and he picked out the worst fucking outfits in existence, you're basically his personal stylist cause what the hell

he likes when you dress him up though teehee

he originally saw you in a mirror he found when wandering in the forest

he became really really curious about you and accidentally yanked you to him

he was confused but really happy

blah blah blah you end up living together, we all know the story! (if you don't, you suggested he followed you because you felt bad for him cause he was PAINFULLY lonely)

you took it upon yourself to cut his hair because it was REALLY long when you first met him, he likes having his hair long though, mourned the loss of his two front strands (he will be growing them back.)

he didn't talk to you for a few days after you cut his hair for the first time, wasn't your fault... you accidentally cut off one of the front strands and had to cut the other off to make it even

fun fact about him, his eyes glow in the dark, it can be scary at times.

oh and his ears are expressive, dunno how that works but it does! and he also never goes a day without wearing earrings! he prefers the ones he came with but doesn't mind wearing whatever as long as he has earrings haha

now for the updated relationship chart! (this whole post has been about them from a few years ago but this is their current relationships with each other!)

ROWAN -> LUNE: he’s a weirdo but i’m glad we’re friends, i can handle his craziness more than most people… probably, i’d say he’s like a brother to me, but at the same time i’d probably lose my mind if he was my brother. no idea how cecilia does it

LUNE -> ROWAN: somehow he’s gotten used to me, he’s not so bad, i guess i’d call him a friend

ROWAN -> CECILIA: she’s like a little sister to me! cute! we’re good friends :] i met her through lune, they’re close! we’re like siblings the three of us

CECILIA -> ROWAN: reliable and nice! i wonder how he’s friends with lune. also. we’re the same age?? he’s real sweet tho, and he’s kind of like a big dog? haha

ROWAN -> NOX: who? :D

NOX -> ROWAN: i’ve seen him before (around the twins) he’s close to cecilia and that other guy who she's unfortunately related to

LUNE -> CECILIA: my little sister <3 we are best buddies, i’d do anything for her, she was there with me in our hardest moments, i wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, and she wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, one of the only people i’ll listen to lmao (she’s kinda scary when she’s mad at me but it’s also kinda funny?) i like bothering her but she might kill me one day though. she hides herself a lot, i don’t know why, it’s always been like this. i wonder if it’s because of me..?

CECILIA -> LUNE: dawg you’re like two minutes older than me (won’t deny the best buddies comment) he’s a really good brother though… but tough to deal with, he’s always causing some sort of trouble, but uh, well. anyway, we’re basically best friends… his words, not mine (she’s lying) he’s crazy but he’s not a bad person..? <- would defend him with her life. he’s an interesting fella that’s for sure, i’ve known him my whole life but there’s always something new with him lmfao. sometimes he comes into my room to knock something over and then he leaves, what an odd guy.

LUNE -> NOX: cocky asshole. so annoying. go to hell already. and stay away from my sister, i don't want you plaguing her with your presence.

NOX -> LUNE: fuck you insane bastard, go die.

CECILIA -> NOX: he’s pretty sweet (??????) we’re really great friends! i didn't think we would become such good friends tbh, he didn't seem to be the social type, and i'm not very social either haha... we're pretty similar i think! i can't remember who approached who first but that's fine. also, this guy has one of the worst damn sleep schedules known to man, i worry for that man. also, him and lune hate each other, no idea why.

NOX -> CECILIA: she's a close friend, i don't usually like making friends cause they end up thinking i'm weird, i don't really care about that but... i'll admit, it's nice to have a friend. she acts really differently in front of other people than she does with me, i don't think she's realized though? it's like having a cat open up to you haha, so i won't say anything. i hate her brother though, pretentious dickhead.

CASSIAN -> CECILIA: we were kids when i met her and her brother? she’s nice… and a lot like me… we still talk, she’s a good friend, thanks for keeping me company… and thanks for not asking me too many questions either

CECILIA -> CASSIAN: oh! cass is a childhood friend! we met at some event, he’s changed a lot since then, but i guess we’re more alike now? he doesn’t come out of his house much anymore, but we still text often. sometimes i see him online really late... bro... please get some sleep.... anyway, i never got to know what happened with him, and he doesn't like talking about it either, i won't pry though, because i understand.

CASSIAN -> LUNE: he’s scary, but i guess he’s not that bad..? i talk to him too, we’re not the closest, but he’s still a friend, i text him sometimes, he’s crazier than before, he was fun to hang out with when we were young, not that i don't like him anymore, he's definitely... special

LUNE -> CASSIAN: i don’t know what happened to him, but he doesn’t leave the house anymore, he’s not bad. he texts sometimes, i don’t know why because i think he’s scared of me, no idea why tho (???) i guess he’s a childhood friend? him, ceci, and i used to hang out before… well yeah, still don't know what went down

CASSIAN -> NOX: oh… i’ve never met him. cecilia’s told me about him before, lune’s mentioned him once, they have really different opinions about him

NOX -> CASSIAN: no clue, cecilia’s mentioned him before, i think he’s friends with her and… the other one.

CASSIAN -> ROWAN: another one of lune and cecilia’s friends i think? they sure are popular. (even lune???)  i dont know anything about him though

ROWAN -> CASSIAN: no idea who this guy is! 

ASTER: ??? :’D 

[sualne]

wish me luck as i attempt to rewrite the modern au from the ground up for the third time.

[fiona-fififi]

...

[batsplat]

[mbat]

this was an idea i had last year that i found in my files and decided to revive. woe, angst be upon ye

[blackjackkent]

BJK Tag List

Some people expressed interest in my doing a tag list for my writing, so... setting that up here!

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Like THIS POST if you would like to be tagged when I post things on AO3.

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Like THIS POST if you would like to be tagged when I post ANY writing, including both AO3 and short-form/ask prompt fills.

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Like THIS POST if you would like to be tagged in writer memes like WIP Wednesday.

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Please like one (or more) of the above linked posts, and feel free to unlike it at any point if you want to stop being tagged! :D

[starleska]

hey guys, listen. it means the world that you like my stuff and are eager to see more of it, but i literally posted a wip just two weeks ago and have so many people asking when it's going to be done. the answer is: i don't know. this month has been tremendously difficult for me, and i'm really, really exhausted.

i've been posting art, vids, text posts, writing articles, etc. all for the sake of fandom while trying to keep on top of the huge amount of asks and messages that have come my way. i was supporting a loved one in the hospital, my laptop is broken, and i experienced a really horrifying situation earlier this month that left me sick, that i'm still recovering from. please do remember that i'm not a content factory, and neither are any other fandom artists you like. i know some of you are just reaching out because you are excited, but a lot of the time it's coming across as a demand, and it's making me just want to log off and not work on anything at all. this isn't my job - i'm just a person who gets excited about stuff and likes to write/draw/talk about it, that's all. i recognise some of this response is just burnout from a really terrible month, and i probably wouldn't be reacting this way if i was less at the end of my tether, but this is something i've always been vocal about. as a prolific fandom creator i've had my fair share of 'WHEN'S THE NEXT CHAPTER???' comments on fics, and 'OMG YOU SHOULD DRAW THIS!!!' replies on art that's just been posted. zero acknowledgement of artistic merit, of what they liked about what was made...just an insatiable hunger for more. i don't know if it's because i'm in so many fandoms, or because i make such a wide variety of fan content and make a lot of posts that seem to draw strangers in. but none of my fanworks come with a release date. i make them because they make me happy, and i release them when they're ready, and if i want to. i shouldn't be logging onto Tumblr and feeling dread looking at my askbox, messages and replies because i know there'll be more demand. for real guys...my stuff isn't that good? it's just silly self-indulgent nonsense and autistic overthinking. this is the place where i go to release the fixation energy, not to come to another workplace 😓 my apologies if this seems ridiculous or overblown. it's a feeling i've been sitting on for a few months now, and it's one i've had following strong/frequent/demanding interactions in larger fandoms before. i don't think there's a fix for this, because people are always going to be crossing boundaries and treating fanworks creators this way. but i think i need to stay firm and say that i don't owe anyone a schedule of the art i make for fun. thanks for reading 💖

[anaceshornyblog]

Lyrics that make me think of JonElias and make me feral.

~~~

Oh I was hit as a kid, I was good but then I quit

Everyone that tried to fix me, knows that I can't change a bit

I've got no shame, got no pride, only skeletons to hide

And if you try to talk to someone, well then someone has to die

Once you chase me down the hole, yeah once you think you're in control

You'll believe that we are partners, and you'll feel uncomfortable

Oh then the darkness rolls in, and you'll forget who I have been

But you'll love, love, love it, this is love