#yes those doodles on his bucket are drawn by him!! he likes to decorate it a lot hyee :33

[soundleer]

Brud.

That is all I ask.

Please and thank you! <3 (LOVE YOUR ART!!!)

brud‼️‼️

whee thamkii for the compliment!! as for the request, i will draw him as promised. here's my rocky road boy :33!!

brud time :33

[lvka-official]

A Look Inside Lev’s Brain

The Beautiful Mess that is Jeon Levka

Is a very artistic boy

Used to paint, draw, write, legit anything that had to do with art he’s tried it out at least once in his life

Finds himself more drawn to poems and song writing obviously

But he also loves doodling on anything as long as he has a writing utensil in hand

Has gotten in trouble a few times because he ends up vandalizing set props or just random areas he ends up in

Talks big but won’t do shit about most things

Like he’ll joke about doing something on purpose but when someones like “bet” he just goes “oh… uh… wow look at the time…”

That one kid that swears a bunch at home but when in public he pretends he doesnt

Perhaps the occasional swear or two in English or Russian but its usually under his breath

Please I’m imagining him stubbing his toe in public and running off to a closet or something to swear his heart out

His duality is insane and I’m not talking about onstage vs offstage

I’m talking about him saying philosophical shit one second and the next he can’t even form a sentence correctly

He will also go from being a responsible teenager if thats a thing to whining about wanting  chicken nuggets or a McDonalds kids meal istg

Ever need proof just go to his studio where he has been all day producing his next album

On his fifteenth red bull and binge eating an entire bucket of strawberry ice cream (yes he’s that kind of person)

Very shy at first, once you get to know him, Lev turns out to be extremely expressive

Anything that he owns is decorated personally by him with stickers, extra accessories, pictures, even just outright scribbling his name onto it

Sort of hoards things as well

Like his dorm is a organized mess of random posters, trinkets and decorations he got as gifts or found while travelling

The only thing he doesn't hoard his stuffed toys (cause he only has one and never discloses he has one in the first place lmao)

Can’t let things go because it has sentimental value to it in some way

Aka that one rock he thought looked cool on the day he went for a hike, you get what I mean

Lately though Lev has been at least sticking to a certain aesthetic so he doesn’t look like a random cluster of things he picked up from the street

Drawn to scary things

Lev’s been interested in horror and the supernatural since he was a child

Loves watching horror movies and creepy shows on TV, and lately he loves any show that looks into ghosts, cryptics and just straight up criminals

Has a collection of Junji Ito manga and other horror books on his shelf and has posters of said media pasted around his dorm

Besides horror Lev also enjoys mystery themes and anything that has dark undertones or themes

He even tries to channel the aesthetic in his work HINT HINT

But going back to his love for the supernatural (no he hasn’t discovered Twilight and only knows the plot by memes)

Dives into a lot of mythology, old legends, etc etc

One thing leads to another and Lev usually finds himself looking through witchy sort of places both in real life and on the web

Not entirely invested but who knows—

Sometimes fans find out those things about him and when he gets asked the question he usually just says its for fun and he’s just curious

Cut to him sitting on his bedroom floor trying to understand how tarot cards works or searching up anything to do with astrology

Besides the fact that he’s an old soul 

Like don’t get him wrong, he’ll get heavily invested in the Victorian era for as long as humanely possible

But don’t forget he’s still a child teenager but eh

Pretty obvious the kid plays horror games but he is also an avid fan of single player games 

No he cant play any mmos cause he’s scared shitless of people on those platforms

Like he has some on his phone but he won’t play them unless he’s with friends

Goes on stan twitter whenever he’s bored and he’s really only in it for the memes that thing can produce dear God his private account is just flooded with retweets of 20 different versions of the same meme

And when he’s not working, Lev makes songs out of vines and other shit in his free time

Prolly has his own tiktok but its on private 

Fans know though… how could they not he does tiktok dances whenever things get awkward during vlive

Yes he does play his cursed songs on vlive and always has this look on his face like “i did that”

“Today on vlive we will be looking at cursed fandoms, did yall know theres one about—“

“Guys I got new mods on minecraft—“

Will also go on a 3 hour rant about his stupid conspiracy theories he whips up and they aren’t even good ones they’re like ones about food half the time

And dear Lord his sense of humour is just as bad

He’ll make dad jokes whenever humanely possible and if he can’t do that its just quoting things 24/7

Has a vine/tiktok response for anything you throw at him and it hurts. It really hurts

“I’m hungry.” *Proceeds to watch a shit ton of Mukbangs and cooking/baking videos instead of actually going to the kitchen to eat something*

The L in Lev stands for memeLord

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Nine

        "Hey."

        I turned my head and saw Murdoc standing a few metres away, his chiselled features still striking from where he stood. I felt as though Murdoc was either always predictable in the strangest of ways or he was a complete stranger, and there was no in between. Even if I just met him. The air surrounding him usually felt perfectly quintessential as Murdoc was of himself, except he wasn't the same Murdoc I came to know. I felt exactly where I needed to be - or should've been - but he seemed nervous, not wanting to come any closer. I sighed and greeted him with a smile, "Hey." I nudged my head to the side, gesturing him to join me under the roof of the entrance.

        He ambled over as a cautious stallion would then pursed his lips like he was lost in thought. It took him a while to say anything, but eventually he took a deep breath in and out, turning my way. "(Y/N) . . ." I looked back at him. "About what happened the other day . . . I-I didn't mean to force myself on you."

        I widened my eyes, caught of guard and almost nonplussed. He certainly didn't force himself on me. Sure, the kiss was unexpected, but I let him crawl on top of me with open arms. I acknowledged the idea of silence not equalling "Yes", which I totally understood, but I think kissing him back with fiery passion was my own way of playing into his affection. Or lust. Now I wasn't so sure I knew what I was getting myself into . . . What was his goal that night? Suddenly there were too many questions.

        "No, no, Murdoc, you didn't at all." I hesitated to continue in case I wore out the assurance to a questionable degree, but laughed a little. "I . . . actually enjoyed our time together . . . a lot."

        Murdoc looked at me with doubtful, departed eyes, clearly just as surprised as me. "But I was also kind of an asshole," he claimed. "Not only was I withdrawing like a child does 'cause we were interrupted but I couldn't even offer to take you home." It meant a lot how much he cared and I would've never expected him to be that type of man, not that that's what was bewildering. If he was insecure about being intimidating in any way, I would've expected him to take an accepted apology with ease.

        "Don't worry about it, Muds, I took the bus," I smiled. "That's one less car to pollute the earth," I chuckled to lighten him up.

        "Are you sure?"

        "Positive," I pressed. Our gazes fell into each other like two deep pools of realization. I felt him inch closer with eased in comfort and I recognized that adorable, authentic smile I always dreamed about slipping back onto his face. I love that smile. I would walk into a million busy London, England thoroughfares to make sure it stayed there.

        "Well, I guess . . ." he turned back to face onward with aplomb. "On account that I didn't scare you off or anything . . . You're always welcome to my humble abode. And if you need anybody to talk to, I'm just a text away."

        I smiled to him, wishing his hands were out of the pockets of his jacket. That way, I could possibly shuffle closer, I could possibly hold one. Or maybe we could hold more than just our hands if Murdoc really felt something between us. "You're always welcome to my home, as well . . ." I paused. "Which, I just realized now, you've never been to."

        Murdoc smirked with perked up keenness, "Oh, right." We both eyed each other with the same idea. "And you've still got some of your music to show me, too."

        I felt my smile grow. "When are you free next?"

        The weekend came faster than expected. My exhilaration for the future certainly helped the boring, drawn-out days sweep by with ease. Cassidy had left with her friends again and wouldn't be back until late in the morning, I assumed, so it would just be me and Murdoc alone. Me and Murdoc alone. Was I possibly too excited for him coming over? Maybe. Was I probably holding my breath? You bet. Either way, I unnecessarily prepared myself for anything and everything.

        I'd told Murdoc my address after our last session, and when I heard him knock on the door I knew it couldn't have been anybody else. Placing my phone down and taking one last glance at my now clean apartment, I made my way to the door. Sure enough, when I opened it, I saw the handsome bloke carrying a small, warm smile on his face, "Good evening."

        "Hello there," I greeted with nod. It was showering that day and I noticed his choice of clothing; a more comfortable turtleneck sweater, with an oversized leather jacket and simple jeans all drenched from the rain. He kept his classic Cuban heels on though, and I let him in immediately.

        As I closed the door I watched him look around, realizing that in the light of my living room lamps his hair wasn't greasy as usual. It's not as if I cared about his hygiene considering I didn't even know how to take care of my own, but when he walked by he smelled quite nice. Stuff like that didn't typically stand out when Murdoc and I crossed paths but I guess something about that day encouraged him to step it up a little. "Nice place," he huffed.

        "I'm not gonna lie, it's usually a pigsty, but I figured cleaning for once wouldn't hurt."

        "For once or for me?" he smirked, and my face heated up.

        "Well, I've gotta make sure my guests feel special," I grinned. I didn't know what to expect of the rest of the evening but part of me was a tad more nervous than I thought I'd be. "Want a little tour?"

        "That'd be great," he agreed. Being an apartment, there wasn't much to show. The living room had a barely stocked shelf, coffee table, a single three-person couch and T.V set up on an end table on the opposite wall. Then, on the other side of the doorway, was a two-person dining table with only one chair, an empty kitchen and trash bin. The washroom wasn't anything special, nor was the laundry closet, but I saw Murdoc's interest gravitate towards my bedroom more and more. When I opened the door he smiled at the boredom of my tedious nest; a mattress, small bedside table, laundry basket, and an old, broken dresser drawer.

        "There's nothing really here, as you can see, but it's where I spend an unhealthy amount of my free time anyway," I nervously laughed. I invited him inside and he took a look around, admiring my belongings.

        I watched as he chuckled, "Did you just move in or something?"

        I laughed in return and shook my head, slightly humiliated. "Nah, I just never found the time to decorate or anything. I'd prefer to waste my money on that after the essentials."

        "Well, you should treat yourself sometime. Or at least draw a doodle every now and then and hang 'em up." Murdoc turned back to me, his head pulled into another wave of interest. "Where's all your music? Perhaps you could hang those up instead and give the room a little creativity."

        I blinked, looking around as I pictured the idea in my head. How could I have not thought of that before? "They're over here," I pointed to one of my dresser drawers. I didn't have enough clothes to fit every cubby, so I simply filled one up with my writing and a few sentimental belongings. I pulled the top drawer open and picked up a few sheets, scanning through them to make sure they weren't any of my intolerable pieces.

        I was never sure how to feel about my music. I was no critic, so I just kept writing and improving until I was satisfied, but I never had the confidence in myself to think they were good enough to be shared. And there I was, showing off my work to a professional producer from a music industry who did this shit for a living. It was at that moment of comprehension I completely regretted telling him about my hobbies.

        Murdoc took the paper from my hands, reading them over as he made himself comfortable on my mattress. I bit my lip, anxiously yearning for his reaction, but the more he read, the deeper he seemed to have dove into my work. I watched his eyes wander the paper with furrowed brows and wondered whether it was a fortunate or more unfortunate sign. "(Y/N) . . . You wrote this?"

        "Y-yeah. I . . . Is it bad?" I felt my gasp hitch.

        Murdoc shuffled in his spot and sat up straighter, re-reading the pages he held. "(Y/N), this is really good," he said, clearly as amazed as expressed. I felt a sigh of relief lift the heavy buckets of suspense from my chest and escape through my lips, walking over to sit beside him.

        "You really think so?"

        "Of course!" he exclaimed. He nudged me with his shoulder, an unexpected sign of validation towards my creation. I smiled so wide I must've looked stupid. I understood my happiness but couldn't perceive why Murdoc appreciating my music made me feel as giddy as it did; more than it would from the approval of others, I mean. Then again, he worked with music everyday, but he was also the only man that I deeply cared about at that point. No wonder I wanted a pat on the back from him so much. "Got a name for it yet?" Murdoc asked.

        "Nah . . . It's not like anybody else is gonna see it anyway," I faintly laughed.

        "We'll see about that," Murdoc chuckled.

        "W-what do you mean?"

        "Well, with work like this, there isn't one producer I know that wouldn't dive headfirst into signing you off," he said.

        I held my breath. I wasn't expecting Murdoc to absolutely abhor my writing, but his reaction felt almost too good to be true. "I-I don't know about that . . ." I replied under my breath. Murdoc looked at me as if I was just trying to be modest.

        "Well, if you're so unsure, you weren't wrong. I am a producer, so I might just steal this myself and release it with my name on it," he joked.

        I laughed, shaking my head. "Thanks for behaving so merciful towards my musical complaints."

        "Complaints?" Murdoc questioned. "These are more than just complaints," he commented with an insulted tone. "This is fucking art, (Y/N)! What's this one about?"

        I looked down to the ripped piece of crinkled paper, then back up to him, our faces only inches apart. "Um . . . Money, I guess you could say. I-I mean, it's more about how a lot of people would prefer money over other things? Especially how some people would rather waste their time and lives for money instead of appreciating what they already have."

        Murdoc's eyes grew soft and he hummed a low, gravely noise I'd remember him creating before; a sort of trademarked quirk of his. I hoped it wasn't a sort of scowl or laughter towards me and my stupid stuttering. "Nervous?" he asked.         I felt myself lean in close, and it looked as if he might've been as well. "N-no," I whispered. "Just flattered."

        "Well, I think it's endearing," he said. Our noses were nearly touching and I felt tempted to lean in for a kiss, and I think he felt the same way as well.

        Murdoc's smirk remained and we sat quiet, our lips seconds away from colliding before there was an echoed knock at the front door. Startled, I backed up, looking up to my bedroom door. I saw Murdoc's irritated expression bubble to the surface, gritting his teeth as he turned to the door as well. I could tell he took his No Turn-offs policy very seriously. "I-I'm gonna go get that," I said.

        I rose from my spot, reaching for the door handle. "I'll be waiting," Murdoc growled from behind me. I glanced behind my shoulder to see his tongue crawling out through his mischievous grin. His lustful expression, as well as his tongue sliding out between his lips and unrolling like salmon-colour silk was both interesting and arousing. I smirked back, reluctantly leaving the room and heading down the hall.

        I unlocked the front door and pulled it open to find Cockblocker Cassidy on the other side. She smiled at me, rushing past me and into the living room. "Change of plans!" she exclaimed.

        How lovely, I thought. "I-is that so?" I smiled as sweetly as I could. I watched her hop onto the couch, picking up the remote for the T.V. "Don't you have your keys?"

        "I think I left them here by accident," she answered. "At least 'I hope'. I'd hate to lose them again. Remember when I lost them the first time you came out with us?" she laughed.

        "Yeah . . . Well, what are you doing here?"

        Cassidy turned to me with a cocked eyebrow, "This is my apartment too, isn't it?"

        "No, you're right," I corrected myself, "but what are the change of plans?"

        "What's this?" I heard from behind me.

        I straightened my back as I jumped in my spot and whipped my head around, startled. I smiled awkwardly at Murdoc as he walked down the hallway, inviting himself into our conversation. "U-um, Cass?" Cassidy nodded, placing her feet on the living room table and nestling herself into a comfortable position. Murdoc walked forward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and Cassidy looked up, instantly alarmed and hopping to her feet like a nun watching a naughty movie. "This is my friend," I smiled.

        From the corner of my eye, I noticed Murdoc glancing back at me very briefly with a hint of dispirited confusion before smiling back at Cassidy. It hurt me the way he looked at me, but I wasn't sure what made him react so. The two walked closer to each other, their palms meeting in a swift handshake. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. . . . ?"

        "Niccals," Murdoc supplied. "Murdoc Niccals. And you're Cassidy?"

        "Cassidy Desdemona," she said.

        "(Y/N)'s told me a lot about you," Murdoc continued, and to my dismay, I nearly squeaked, gasping in shock. "All good things, I mean," he chuckled.

        "I should hope so," Cassidy mumbled, taking a glimpse of my suspicious, twisted grin. She ambled closer in my direction, "You never told me there was a man in your life," and she didn't even bother to whisper. Sometimes I felt like Cassidy's only purpose in my life was to torment me like a sister figure.

        "Cass, i-it's not like that-" I stuttered, before looking back at Murdoc. He looked at me, awaiting my answer with apprehension. "I mean . . . I-t's none of your business," I concluded as an attempt to be mature and straight to the point.

        Cassidy chuckled, shrugging and proceeding down the hall. "It was nice meeting you, Murdoc," she simpered over her shoulder before retiring for her bedroom.

        I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead, looking back at Murdoc who rested his hands on his hips. "What could be so important between us it's none of her business?" he teased. I smiled, feeling an urge from every atom of my being to lean in and taste his lips for real, but I felt paranoid knowing Cassidy was hanging around. I sighed with gloom, and Murdoc's smug look dissolved. "Is something wrong?"

        "No," answered under my breath. "I'm just . . . Cassidy might as well have eyes everywhere . . . She's the inquisitive type," I said.

        Murdoc mouthed an "Oh", looking away awkwardly and it was silent between us as I scratched my arm. "That's alright," he smiled, walking forward and raising his hand to meet my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. "It just means we'll be over at my place more often than yours," he said, coming closer and closer to my face.

        "I like your bedroom better anyway," I agreed, my fingers brushing his arm as I traced it over to his hand, holding it in my palm. He moved it back down to my shoulder and to my neck, his nails running through my hair as we moved closer. Our lips were about to meet before his hand left my shoulder, searching his back pocket and pulling out a small slip of paper in front of me. "What's this, you tease?" I light groaned with a smile.

        "A little something for your wall," he said, holding his hand in front of me. I looked down to see a silly sketch, reminding me of the first time he ever attempted a drawing for me. It honestly wasn't that bad of an okay hand symbol - I was impressed - but what I held up in front of me was a stealth attack of affection.

        It was a small drawing of two stick figures, one green-skinned with what I could only assume to be a bass guitar and the other with a microphone who's hair colour matched my own. I laughed, "Where'd this come from? I don't even remember the last time I ever sang."

        "Saw a pencil and sticky notes on the ground and thought I'd bless you with my talent," he said. "Pretty accurate for someone who drew from memory, huh?"

        "Oh, you know it," I smiled up at him, walking back to my room as he followed closely behind. I stuck the paper to the wall beside my bed so it could be the first thing I saw when I woke up every morning, and I smiled. I looked at it and smiled. I felt Murdoc's presence behind me, giving me a soft, fluffy feeling in my stomach I'd never felt before. It rose from my feet to my head and he got closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and letting me melt into his arms.

        I lifted my head from under his chin and turned around, and as soon as my eyes reached his face, our lips finally met. I felt my heart pounding in my throat and his delicate hands cradle me like a small house pet. I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled our chests together before our kiss broke. I couldn't help but giggle.

        "Do I amuse you?" he asked, and I looked up at his half-lidded, captivated eyes.

        "In a way," I admitted. "I'm just . . . I'm just happy."

        That single moment offered me more gaiety than I'd felt in years. However, no matter how euphoric he made me feel, Murdoc didn't really seem like the type to be willingly tied down by any serious relationship, did he? He was more of a smash and dash type of person, and he didn't hesitate to make this clear in therapy. I was partially convinced his admitted sex addiction wasn't still in broad action, but there had to be a reason he seemed to care so much about me. Hopefully he felt the same butterflies in his stomach as I felt in mine whenever I saw him. Besides, if Murdoc wanted to look like such a tough guy, surely he wouldn't want to act sweet in front of others very often . . . Maybe I was more special than I thought I was?

        "You alright, lass . . . ?"

        "Hmm?"

        "You spaced out a little, love." Murdoc smirked at me, and I blinked my foggy eyes away. In front of me stood a shimmering white cloud of blurry Murdoc's face and I hadn't noticed until I was too embarrassed to reverse the damage. "Undoubtedly another habit of yours?"

        I gave his face some personal space and backed up, sucking in a deep breath before shrugging. "You caught me," I sighed.

        "Well, if you're gonna get flustered over my devilish charms, maybe here isn't a good place," he said, looking back to my bedroom door.

        "You're probably right," I said, wondering if Cassidy could be listening into our conversation as we spoke. I was thinking irrationally, I know, but as much as I liked to think I knew her, we were still merely strangers who only went out partying a couple of times and got hammered at any attempt to familiarize each other.

        "Wanna go for a drive?" he offered, his smile wrapping me in a warm blanket.

        "Sure," I grinned. "I'd love that."