#i’m only 23

[starrspice]

Have a Sun, Moon, and a StarrSpice!

I’ve been super busy with work and other stuff in my life so I haven’t had the time energy or motivation to really draw all that much, but with things settling down a bit I decided to stretch my drawing muscles and dive back in

And who better to do that with than sun and Moon? The most drawable boys ever

Very self indulgent but very much needed with the chaos in my life lately

It feels good to be back

[searchingforbucky]

And 24 years ago I realized I wasn’t straight, thank you The Hex Girls. 🦇

[earththings]

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Literally 18

time for an ancient tradition….. how many of these artists have you heard of? miraculously i’m at 42

[lilbabypeachy]

3 people I’ve kissed are dead now…

[sallamie]

just saw a teen post “i wish i was a teenager in the 2010s” and i just gagged from the shock like girl wdym 😭😭😭 that just aged me so hard im shaking

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

Don’t you mean quarter life crisis?

Bitch i better fucking not live to 92, i mean bsfr i barley plan on making it to 46…maybe this is my 3/4 life crisis

[stell4fly]

The years fly by so quick that I feel pressure to make the most of them n not waste time

But I gotta b careful to not lose the present moment too

[otaku553]

I’ve been trying to read the ace novel to practice reading Japanese and I find it really funny how deuce describes ace like he’s the heartthrob surfer dude male lead in some 2010s Disney film

Anyways here’s an ace since I was thinking about him

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 23 || “Gunshot Wound”

Why do you always have to be the hero? 

As Reagan stared down at her little brother, it was that one sentence that consumed her thoughts. It was the sentence that had once fuelled her life, a bitter resentment bubbling inside her, this pathetic need absorbing her entirely. It was this sentence that she had clung to, in the wake of death and this terrible, numbing grief, the weight on her shoulders pushing her down, the very world seeming to rest on top of her. 

And it was with this sentence that she stared at the curled-up figure of her bedridden baby brother, his cheeks burning pink from the bite of the cold. Dried blood cracked along the side of his neck, dark bruises blooming along his face, scratches etching across the skin. Pale bandages peeked from underneath his collar, a dark colour stained through them.

The area where he’d been shot. 

He had not awoken, despite being stuck inside this cramped, suffocating restaurant for an entire week. And as the days passed, slow and frost-bitten, Reagan was beginning to lose the last remnants of her sanity. 

She’d done everything in her power to protect him from this. From long-winded conversations about how truly dangerous the world was, the terrors he would face, terrors he could not even fathom. To the times she lost control, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, a sort of fear thrumming off of her, one that would always leave Felix scared, guilty.

A part of her hated herself for it, the way this fear, this want, controlled her. It never left, slowly warping every decision she made for herself. It was the thing that followed her as she packed up their things for the tenth time in the year, running away from any problem that came their way. That threatened to sacrifice the life she had built for them. 

But a small, ugly part of her was glad for it. Maybe it was selfishness; the way a horror churned in her gut for the dangerous sparkle inside his eyes, that terrible exhilaration at fighting, at doing something rebellious. Maybe it was horrible of her, to want him to be scared, just as terrified as she was, as she had been forced to be. 

But when he was safe inside her arms, alive and away from all the people who had decided he could not be allowed to enjoy life, who had decided he was too different to….

Well, then it didn’t matter so much. 

Because if Felix was safe, then she must have done something right. If Felix was safe, and good, and protected, then she would take the terror at his inclination for violence, for an adventure. She’d take the bad grades and the attitude and the idiotic delinquency, as long as he was by her side, smiling. 

But now, she could see that it wasn’t true. 

Because Felix was by her side, but he was not smiling. No, he was hurt, injured beyond belief. Bullet holes peppered into his fragile figure, bandages and wounds encasing his body. And she was here unharmed. 

Unharmed because she had stepped aside while he put himself in danger’s way. Unharmed because he had this stupid, annoying desire to be some hero, to be the saviour in the end. Even if it meant she lost him, even if it meant that he died. 

Staring down at him now, his curls a tangled mess, falling limply in his face, his expression this beacon of calm, the comatose state having brought a sort of contentedness to him, Reagan could only think one thing: He was a complete replica of her father. 

It was this helplessness that had followed her while standing in front of her own father’s grave, a steady flow of tears slipping down her cheeks, the small hand of Felix curled up in her own — the only thing anchoring her to this life. It was this helplessness that had followed her after strangers, these people she did not know, did not care to know, told her how lucky she was. How her father was a hero, how she should be proud.

It was this helplessness that had trapped her inside her room, Felix asleep under the sheets of her bed, as she sobbed, angry at the world, angry at her life. But most importantly, angry at him.

I didn’t want a hero, she had once screamed at his smiling picture, the only thing she had left of him. I wanted my dad.

“Lo lamento.” She whispered, her breath a tickle upon Felix’s skin. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, tears splattering along his hairline. 

Why him?

masterlist || next

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[ghostintheceiling]

I stg I cannot explain to you how much Caprice enamors me. I want him to have the world. That poor tortured guy. Let him have a good thing please

[heeheeweevil]

Me and my friend have been affectionately calling the upcoming Dumplings/Changeling episodes “The David episodes” because we think human Chilchuck in the manga looks like David Tennant, and IT DID NOT DISSAPOINT

[onlyrainbowshipstbh]

Milk via her Insta!

[girlcum-sommelier]

finding out your mutual is 19

[phantomsies]

literacy, empathy and nuance are dead fucking arts and there really is no coming back from it.

[rivalmelty]

they are fukuzawa’s boys, adopted twins, and menaces to the yokohama police

(pls do not tag as beast)