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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 3 years

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•How the Captains Take Notes•

warnings: none

genre: crack?? idk 🧍

characters: daichi, kuroo, bokuto, oikawa, ushijima, kita, & terushima

a/n: this was stuck in my head at 3am and i was too lazy to format this sooo enjoy this shit show 🏃🏻‍♀️ alsooo this is solely my opinion and it’s just for fun so pls don’t take it to heart :)

~ Daichi ~

-> honestly the most basic notes out of all the captains

-> not too neat but definitely not too messy either

-> probably not one to try and get every single detail on his paper

-> just writes whatever information he’ll need for tests and assignments and calls it a day

-> he has pretty decent handwriting and is usually the first person to offer his notes to anyone who needs them

-> not really one for formatting his notes farther than the typical ‘grocery list’ style

-> definitely the only one in class who has the guts to raise their hand and ask the teacher to go slower when no one can get anything on their paper

-> he’ll just write with regular #2 pencils and name brand pens

~ Kuroo ~

-> oh where do i begin

-> okay he tries...? but it’s definitely not like oikawa’s or kita’s

-> i imagine kuroo to have that doctor’s type of handwriting soooo

-> no one can understand jack shit that boy puts on his paper

-> like he color codes things and has a pretty decent format but that handwriting hun, it’s just not it

-> if he takes his time to write things he actually has pretty nice handwriting

-> but when it comes to notes he feels the need to get all the information down so it just becomes chicken scratch

-> but hey, he can understand it really well and that’s all that matters

-> also definitely writes with those multi-colored mechanical pencils that break after two days

~ Bokuto ~

-> definitely has the type of notes that no one else can comprehend except for him

-> and even he struggles to read his notes sometimes

-> this boy is just trying to get everything down on the paper so he really doesn’t care how nice it looks

-> he writes super big too, like unnecessarily big

-> like i’m talking takes up twenty pages for one lecture type of big

-> probably writes in wide ruled notebooks bc college ruled makes his notes 20x messier

-> definitely will space out every five minutes and has to ask the person next to him what the heck is going on

-> writes all his notes with an old dirty pencil he found on the floor a week ago

-> it definitely lost the eraser before he picked it up so he’s constantly tapping on people’s shoulders asking for an eraser

-> yes he’s that type of classmate

-> but we love him anyways

-> one of my lovely reblogs mentioned that they thought bokuto doodles and i 100% agree-

~ Oikawa ~

-> this motherfu-

-> the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen

-> like seriously pinterest worthy

-> would probably copy down all the notes in class and then rewrite them all pretty once he gets home

-> brags to everyone about how neat and organized his notes are

-> color codes everything and has the nicest handwriting

-> he draws little graphs and pictures on the sides of his notes too

-> is definitely the go to person to copy notes from when people miss class bc they’re so easy to read

-> definitely writes notes with the most expensive stationary known to man

-> like i’m talking about those $7 japanese pens and the really nice metal mechanical pencil

-> he really goes all out

-> i assure you, his notes will be just as perfect as his hair

~ Ushijima ~

-> okay listen, he’s got nice ass handwriting but he’s awful at taking notes

-> like he definitely tries but he end up copying down all the unnecessary information and leaving out all the important bits

-> doesn’t even bother to format his notes, just kinda writes a whole paragraph but somehow knows where everything is..?

-> semi ends up shoving his own notes in his hands so he doesn’t end up failing every single one of his classes

-> he’s not stupid, he just ends up focusing on the wrong things

-> rarely asks questions but when he does he’s always super blunt about it that it takes the whole class a minute to process

-> just jots down notes with whatever black pen he has laying in his backpack

-> overall, definitely not the best note taker but at least he’s got volleyball going for him-

~ Kita ~

-> okay kita’s notes are like a more toned down version of oikawa’s

-> things like color coding and post it notes are way too distracting for him so he sticks with a plain pen and paper

-> yet his notes still turn out to be so freaking pretty

-> has super neat handwriting and formats everything in a way that’s super understandable

-> very minimalistic but still super beneficial

-> always gets everything down while still maintaining his neatness since it’s such a routine thing for him

-> he is definitely the go to when someone just dozed off in class and needs a few things they missed since it’s so easy to find information in his notes

-> will let people borrow his notes but makes sure to let them know how important it is to stay focused during class before he does

-> writes with a 0.5 black gel pen, i don’t make the rules

~ Terushima ~

-> this man has so much energy that he genuinely doesn’t care to make his notes all pretty

-> he finds note taking pretty boring so his main goal is usually to try and get it over with asap so he can move on to more entertaining things

-> so even though he’s smart, i think he’s another one that takes pretty basic notes

-> writes a header and just does bullet points all the way down

-> he copies down most of what the teacher is saying but he’ll definitely forget about anything he thinks he won’t need to know later on

-> probably writes with a plain mechanical pencil he borrowed from one of his classmates

-> speaking of, if you let this man borrow anything, don’t expect it back

-> it’s probably already lost or he forgot it was even yours to begin with

-> also this man is definitely a pencil/pen tapper

-> like if he’s bored or stressed, all you’ll hear in the back of the classroom is the tapping of him damn pencil

-> like hush bby, the class is almost over i swear

-> anywho probably a huge pain in the ass when it comes to lectures buuuut we forgive him

130 notes · View notes

vanchlo · 4 years

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Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here: 2 3 4

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c:

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea.

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom.

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings.

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs.

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust.

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes.

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he.

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this:

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup?

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them.

In the closet.

In a nook in a drawer.

Under the chair.

On the backside of one of his books.

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists.

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored.

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too.

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says.

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along.

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram.

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do.

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off.

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom.

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you.

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note.

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys.

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom.

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so.

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . .

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night!

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again.

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending.

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room.

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does.

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop!

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking.

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink.

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake.

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone.

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist.

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache.

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?”

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator.

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!”

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table.

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome.

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks.

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice.

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh.

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being.

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day.

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware.

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts.

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips.

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore.

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips.

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile.

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal.

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had.

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you.

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.”

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it.

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here.

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks.

That can’t hurt, can it?

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today.

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it.

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk.

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person.

How did I not figure this out sooner?

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books.

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing.

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs.

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room.

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words.

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too.

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you.

“Neither am I . . . . Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle.

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling.

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack.

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon.

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he.

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only.

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice.

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway.

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing.

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be.

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air.

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway.

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud.

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.”

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ceilingcow · 3 years

Note

How do you colour your stuff? (If you don't mind telling👉👈) because your art looks so nice, it looks traditional but also digital at the same time.

Hey, thanks so much for the question! I love traditional art, but for various reasons digital is a lot more accessible to me now, so I try to bring my traditional process to digital as much as possible. I tend to really build up layers in traditional mediums, and digital can very conveniently mimic that.

I'll deconstruct my layers because this is more or less the sequence I go in.

One of the most important things to me was finding digital tools (brushes) that felt like the traditional tools I liked most. When you find one that just clicks, it's a tangible feeling. I'll list my favorite brushes at the bottom of the post. Putting a cut here because it's a long post, but I like sharing information when I can because hey maybe it'll be helpful to somebody!

I always start with a blank canvas that already has a paper-texture overlay applied to it. I tend to sketch in a couple different colors to keep things straight. A holdover from traditionally inked pieces where I'd sketch in non-photo blue pencils. I keep it rough, especially in faces. I do my final layer of pencils or inks over that.

Once I have my lineart, I establish the tone of the piece with a background color or gradient. I do a bit of underpainting where I know I want to build on top of colors other than the background.

I tend to start focusing more on the face here. Throughout working on the piece I'll come back to the underpainting layer and add colors as I see fit.

I fill in the base colors next, keeping things messy by using a brush with some texture and flow that varies with pressure. I really like having the background peek through in places and the background color is key to how I mix colors. I never bucket fill areas of color on a piece like this. For Benny's jacket I use two separate layers to keep the checks easier to work with, and layer masks to erase away sections to create a hatched effect. This is one of those places where I love digital art because I can do things more efficiently than what I would've done traditionally.

I do these next steps kind of concurrently, because they both solidify the overall colors of the piece.

I go back and add colors to the background as I work. Above the more opaque paint I've already done on the figure, I start doing "glazing" layers using layer modes in Photoshop. The most important one for me is Hard Light. I use the background colors to add pops of color on this layer and do some shading. I find that doing shadows in Hard Light first makes them a bit more interesting. I used pinks, reds and greens on the Hard Light layer.

I intensify the shadows in places using a Multiply layer and add a bit more color variety in places on a Color Burn layer using magenta, purple, coral and red.

While I'm using layer modes a lot in this process, I started doing this because it mirrored how I used to work with markers traditionally and build up colors in layers, sometimes using unexpected combinations.

I add a few details over top all the layers and it's done!

Brush talk time!

My absolute favorite sketching pencil is the "Grease Pencil 8B" from Alex Dukal's "Pencil Garden" set. It has a soft-yet-dark, smooth feeling that reminds me of the "Caran d'Ache Sketcher Non-Photo Blue Pencil", which is really just the tops when it comes to traditional sketchers. Seriously I love those pencils. I did the final line art for this with the "German - 45px" brush from the same pencil set, but duplicated the line art layer to make it darker. I do this on many "painterly" pieces because I like how pencil lines and messier paint look together.

Everything else is a Kyle T. Webster brush, which can be found here and downloaded if you've got a subscription with Photoshop. I have a little folder with my favorite of these brushes because there are a lot of brushes. Some I've modified to my likings. The "Oil Background Crusher" is an absolute MVP when it comes to filling in large sections because the color varies based on pen pressure. The "Impressionist" brush is also a huge favorite, and I've done entire pieces before pretty much just with that brush, though I didn't use it for this piece. (Old example, but seriously I've loved this brush for years.)

I've been using a lot of KTW's Gouache brushes lately and most of the painting on the above piece was done with those since they have a messier feel than some of the oil-specific brushes. The recent Victor piece was 100% the KTW Gouache brushes except for the sketch.

Oil paint brushes have a much denser feel and I go for those when I want a more precise feeling. This one was done mostly with the "Impressionist" brush to bring the ghoul skin texture alive, the "Ultimate Oil thicker", "Big Wide Softy" and the "Creamy" brush.

As for color inspiration, I either generate my own palette on Adobe Color or draw inspiration from Impressionist, Post-Impressionist, or Vienna Secession movement paintings, since they tend to have a color palette with the traditional painting feel I'm going for. Right now Toulouse-Lautrec is my painting inspiration.

I hope something in here might've been helpful, though I know it's a bit long. I'm always down to answer questions or talk shop or even chat about art history. =]

#my art #asks #long post #art #digital art #I really like painting... honestly I like it a lot more than drawing #and I've enjoyed that I've gotten to do some messier painting work with Yeehawgust

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dotsz · 3 years

Note

I love your art so much 💕💕 Do you have any tips for how to get your art to look softer like yours? I just think it looks so cool!!

tysm!! 💞 it’s honestly all in the brushes — i like to use pencil textured brushes, and you can find a bunch by using keywords like “pencil” or “crayon” or “crunchy” on clip studio assets if you happen to use that program. i also use a soft paint brush for rendering (soyo oil 2 on csp assets) that makes the blending really soft — no hard edges, just blending all the colors on one layer! using overlay and multiply filters to tie colors together also makes it more uniform and softer, and sometimes i go over messier parts with the paintbrush again at the end. also painting the lineart a similar color to the colors around it will help it mix n fade more 👍🏼

i don’t usually do this bc the brushes i use make it soft enough but a tip i saw is to duplicate the lineart layer, make the copy all a darkish color that fits the theme of the piece, then set it to multiply + use a gaussian blur so that it blurs out the edges. makes the lineart look not as hard edged!!

hope this helped <3

#dots asks #art tips

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reneesi · 4 years

Text

i never would have thought // CH.02

CH.02 II pain. just lots of pain.

WRITTEN PORTION

(Y/n) scribbled bits and pieces of math onto her notebook. She’d been at this problem for almost 15 minutes now and had failed to make much progress. But that wasn’t even the worst part, the worst part of it all was that she only had 6 more problems to do before finally being done. So if it wasn’t for stupid #26, (y/n) would probably be snuggled up in bed by now. (Y/n) sighed exhaustedly, dropping her head down onto the table. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather her courage.

Tsukishima had told her to call him.. like face time call him, and it’s not like it was a big deal or anything but if (y/n) was being honest that was probably the last thing she would have expected him to have said. Especially this late at night. (Y/n) wasn’t used to talking to people on the phone, much less talking to someone past 8 pm and it wasn’t because she had something against late night phone calls she’s just never had anyone to call.

Picking up her phone, (y/n) stared down at Tsukishima’s contact information, finger hovering just above the call button. She held her breath, was she really gonna do this? What if it was super awkward? Looking back at her math homework and then at the clock (y/n) shrugged and hit dial, deciding that no amount of nerves were going to keep her from finishing the stupid homework that was in the way of her sleep.

When Tsukishima picked up he was still wearing his school uniform, even his headphones were hanging loosely around his neck

“Took you long enough” He scoffed, his camera moving around for a moment as he presumably propped his phone up against his wall. (Y/n) only rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to bully me?” She glared

“Do you want me to help you with the homework or not?” Tsukishima asked, leaning back in his chair.

(Y/n) stopped for a moment, surprised at Tsukishima’s relaxed demeanor. His blonde hair was a little messier than it had been during school hours, and the shirt was unbuttoned at the top. If she didn’t know how much of a meanie he was, she might have somehow thought he looked kind of… attractive.

“Uh hello?” Tsukishima tapped his camera a couple times, pulling (y/n) back to reality.

“Y..yeah! My homework!” (Y/n) picked up her cellphone, hurriedly flipping to the back camera praying to the universe that Tsukishima hadn’t seen the dusty rose color slowly creeping across her cheeks.

“So this is the work I’ve done so far and-“

“I can already see where you made the mistake. Pan down a bit I can tell you how to set it up properly.”

(Y/n) did as instructed, following along as Tsukishima slowly explained the solution.

“Wait I think I get it!” She exclaimed, dropping her phone in a haste. Tsukishima sighed, returning to the book in his hand. Only 3 minutes passed before (y/n) was groaning again.

“Nooo, I still did it wrong,” She pouted, picking up her phone yet again “Please help.”

Tsukishima closed his book, using his pointer finger as a temporary book mark.

“Look, at the bottom, that 3 is supposed to be an 8. It was just a small mistake thats why you should let me guide you all the way through.”

“Wow, who knew Mr. Tsukishima was such a kind teacher.” (Y/n) teased, Tsukishima only made a face of disgust, his previously calm expression growing sour.

“Don’t ever call me that again, it’s weird.” He adjusted his glasses “Also the only reason im helping so much is because the faster we get this done the faster I can hang up.”

“Sure whatever you sayyy!” (Y/n) giggled, pulling her gaze back to the unfinished homework. She never could quite tell if Tsukishima was joking or not, maybe he truly was counting down the seconds until he could leave.. maybe he was only being nice because he had to, provided they were on the same team.

“Are you almost done with the next one? If you get stuck I can give you a hint.” Tsukishima yawned. (Y/n) looked over at her alarm clock, it was almost three in the morning..

“I only have two more, #27 and #28 were pretty easy.” (Y/n) replied absentmindedly.

(Y/n)’s following math problem ended up being rather long, consequently the next couple minutes were silent. That is besides the occasional flip of Tsuksihima’s page and the scribble of (Y/n)’s pencil. Neither Tsukishima nor (y/n) really noticed though, given that each had something before them capturing their respective attention. But somehow, the silence wasn’t awkward. For the first time, the two were actually coexisting peacefully, almost as if they were getting along.

(Y/n) caught a small mistake and began erasing before realizing her pencil was almost out of lead. She paused, reaching over to grab her pencil pouch. As (y/n) replaced the lead in her pencil, her eyes flickered back to her phone’s screen. Tsukishima looked calm when he read, but not his usual deadpan calm. His eyes had a lively hunger (Y/n) had never even imagined across his face.

“I didn’t know you liked reading.” (Y/n) remarked

“I do.” Tsukishima’s eyes didn’t move from the page

“What are you reading?”

“A book.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, clicking down against the top of her pencil and pushing out lead.

“What kind of book?” She tried, scribbling continuing once again

“Mystery.”

“Fitting.” (Y/n) grumbled under her breath. Five minutes of silence passed before Tsukishima spoke again.

“How close are you to being done?” His book half shutting once more as he leaned back into a stretch, arms reaching up and back.

“Almost done with the last one.” Remembering the time, she added “You can go ahead and go to bed, Im pretty sure I can finish on my own.”

“Ok.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to respond, but before she could even utter a single syllable Tsukishima has already hung up. (Y/n) stared down at her darkened screen, eyes wide. She sighed, a bit disappointed but mostly just tired.

“Thank you.” She mumbled to herself, returning to her paper one last time to finally finish the math assignment. (Y/n) made a mental note to find some way to thank Tsukishima in the near future. Knowing him though, it would be damn near impossible without getting some snarky remark back. Still, (y/n) was confident she’d figure it out eventually.

previous I next

MASTERLIST

Tagslist: @domtamaki @kodzu-ken @clowninfortodoroki @kageyamasbabygorl

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theoneandonlyyeti · 2 years

Note

Assumptions about you regarding your art:

- You love the texture of paper.

- You aren't exactly inspired by cartoons you've watched, but the stuff you've noticed about those styles is still drifting around in your brain.

- You've desperately wanted to eat some sort of art supplies before. Most probably colored pencils. Slightly less likely to be crayons.

- You want to capture things with a happier curve to all of its angles. (And you succeed. I feel like if I threw one of the characters you've drawn they'd bounce and laugh about it)

- Watercolor paints. Watercolor paints.

👀👀👀

ok so first off yea i lov the texture of paper omg- but like there is some paper that is smooth ish and i HATE it that stuff is horrid

yea u p much got that right- i wouldnt say that like any thing i draw is directly inspired by any cartoons but i do try to look at cartoons to make sense of things like how to draw clothing folds n things. if u asked me how i came up with the style for my hair and eyes i couldnt tell u it kinda just happened

oh for SURE. we get to use oil paints at school and oh my goodness i mixed this one orange once it took so much restraint to not put it in my mouth skdhkshs. although i prolly wouldnt want to eat colored pencils or crayons kshakhdj. also when i read this i laughed out loud kahskd very accurate :3

ooo this is so interesting. i have noticed i draw curvier but i sometimes dislike it- mostly because its due to the fact that i draw with really thick lines and i feel like it makes everything look messier :/ but also yea ur right- u prolly could take anything i draw and bounce it- i love that analogy its so cute :D that makes me feel better about it haha <3

dude ive TRIED trust me- i have zero patience for watercolor - i barely have the patience for oil paints ;w; the only time i did watercolor and it looked ok was in art class years ago and it was like- she had us do things step by step so i was forced to slow down lol… tbf tho i do use the digital watercolor brush ALL the time, its so nice for blending and shading i love it

#THANK YOU FOR THIS #THIS WAS SO COOL #please analyze my art i love seeing what ppl think of my style #ask #nightshadeowl

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mcrmadness · 3 years

Text

die ärzte stuff from my sketchbook, pt ?/?

Idk if you noticed me blogging a lot about my "die ärzte drawing studies" a few weeks ago, but I did fill lots of pages on both my sketchbook and also just drawing paper sheets. I also studied their faces, like actually studied, in photoshop by drawing circles and lines on their faces and comparing them to each other to see how different heads and faces can have different measures. I was using the Loomis Method, and wanted to kinda do it backwards - instead of just drawing the circles and lines and a face from there, I started to draw them on faces to see them better in real life. Easily I used hours on just this alone!

So, I thought I could show you some stuff from my sketchbook. But not all of them because there's lots of really terrible looking stuff that I am not so comfortable showing :D Mainly just attempts of drawing the faces but failing miserably because I'm still just learning here. Anyway, here's one of the first pages:

^This is one of the first ones + my own notes. You can see that when I'm writing only to myself, I write very fast and don't care much about my handwriting so it looks much messier and might be more difficult to read (even for myself) than what my handwriting normally is like.

This was then my first try of drawing Farin. I used a reference image for this and I think it's pretty okay.

This I scanned badly but this was yet another attempt of drawing Bela. I had trouble with his nose and sometimes when I can't figure out how to draw something, I switch to my left (non-dominant) hand as it can draw more freely and sometimes will be more successful than the right hand which easily tries too much because it knows what it's doing, but can't let go of old habits. I don't remember if I colored the hair with left on the left-hand drawing too or not, I just added the color to make it have the illusion of it looking even a little bit more like Bela.

This is the eye one I already posted here before but here it's again. I figured I should practice individual facial features first, just go through everything one by one and take my time, but I really REALLY like drawing eyes and that's when this happened.

Here I tried to draw a whole face but it didn't work out so I gave up :D That's why there's the "LÖL" text. I also tried to draw mouths a little but it was more difficult than I expected. I know how to draw mouths with pencil, but it's much more difficult to get that same 3-dimensional effect with just fineliners! I used reference images with all these, just tried to figure out how the shadows etc. go and how to draw the shape.

This upper one I posted here earlier as well, I was practicing drawing noses and eyes again, and Farin's mainly, as you can see. And again some notes for myself because I could see what was wrong, but I just kept making the same mistake over and over again :D At this point I felt like I was getting somewhere with the individual features, but now I sucked at "connecting the dots". Like, how to draw all the features so that they match and also look like the person I'm trying to draw?

This page had some more nose studies. And then it got out of hand because Imagination. (The text underneath is a story idea for a comic, pretty much for a self-comic. I was too lazy to censor it, plus it isn't even that important.)

#mcrmadness draws #my sketchbook~#my dä sketches #dä fanart #die ärzte

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artzychic27 · 4 years

Text

Painbow

The artwork was made by @lizzey-13, who asked if I could write this. Thanks again for asking me to write this! :)

—

“And so, the British...”

Nathaniel was trying not to fall asleep from the boring lecture. He usually stays up by sketching, but he’s already gone through three sketchbooks in just one month, now there was nothing keeping him from dozing off in the middle of class. He did have another sketchbook with him, but that was for the Ladybug comic.

He looked up at the clock sitting above the door... Just seven minutes left, he could do this. Why couldn’t his bangs have been even? Then he could fall asleep without anyone noticing

“And the war brought...”

Gotta stay up... Five more minutes... Nathaniel turned his head slightly and looked out the window. It had just stopped raining, little droplets were running down the glass window pane, and the sky looked a little grey. The only thing that stood out from the dreariness was the bright rainbow in the sky... It reminded him of Marc. The boy’s name was literally ‘Rainbow’! If you took out the M.

Now that was keeping him awake. How could he sleep when Marc was on his mind? His smile, his gentle voice, the graceful way his pencil moves whenever he was writing. The mere through of the boy brought a faint smile to Nathaniel’s usually stoic face.

RIIIIING!

At the sound of the bell, Nathaniel snapped out of his thoughts. Class was over

“Class dismissed. Have a good day, everyone.”

Nathaniel gathered his belongings and made his way down the stairs where Alix was waiting for him, “You goin’ to art club?” She asked, but the smirk on her face meant she already knew the answer

“Yeah I’m going.”

Once they left the classroom, Alix, with a smirk still on her face, turned around and mimicked kissing someone. Her hands went up and down her back, “Oh, Marc. I love you so much.” She said in a low voice, mimicking Nathaniel “I love you so much, babe.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at his shorter friend’s antics and playfully slapped her arms, making her stop

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop!” She said through her giggles, then she turned around and saw the familiar bright red hoodie coming down the hallway. “Go get him, Romeo.” She sends the redhead a wink before running off to the art classroom

Nathaniel fixed up his hair, straightened his blazer, and approached the writer. The closer he got, the more he noticed something off about Marc. His hair was a little more messier than usual, and he had a tired look in his eyes

“Marc?” The taller boy flinched, Nathaniel became worried, “Rainbow, are you okay?” Marc seemed less tense after hearing his nickname

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” His eyes shifted as if he were looking for someone, “Let’s just go-”

“Marc, please tell me what’s wrong.” He took Marc’s hand in his, “You flinched when I said your name. What happened?”

“... Just the usual stuff.” He admitted, “They threw notes at me,” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out said notes, “telling me to die, calling me some stuff, something about conversion therapy, I look like a girl...”, He sounded so bored, like he’d done this a hundred times, “They’re not even being original anymore.” He crumpled up the notes and put them in a nearby trash can “Come on, let’s get to art club.”

Nathaniel’s mouth hung open slightly. He stayed like that for a moment until he finally found his words “Rainbow, how can you just let this go?”, he asked, “This isn’t right.”

“Nath, I’m used to it.” He admitted, “I-It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Please? For me?”

Nathaniel wanted to argue, but that smile made him give in, “Fine.” He grumbled, “But if this gets physical, I am getting involved.” Marc nodded sadly. Nathaniel leaned in and kissed Marc on the cheek, making his lips curl into a smile, “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—

The next week at school went pretty smoothly. The new Ladybug comic was published, paperback and online, and everyone really seemed to enjoy it. Nathaniel wanted to be happy right now, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to Marc. No one should have to endure that kind of treatment, and just be used to it... But, he promised that he wouldn’t do anything unless Marc showed up covered in bruises.

So far it’s been nothing but cruel notes in his locker and unoriginal insults. Marc just let it go and threw the notes away, but Nathaniel was pissed and close to being akumatized many times. Fortunately, Marc always managed to calm him down before any akumas could appear

“Nath!” Alix called out as she ran over to him with the latest issue of the comic in her hand, “I am loving this comic, man!” She wraps an arm around him and winks, “And don’t think I didn’t see those background gay couples.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, “Of course you would notice them.”

“Cuz I got gay-dar!” She exclaimed with a laugh, but that look soon faded when she saw the aggravated look in Nathaniel’s eye, “Are you okay? You’re looking a little ticked off.”

Nathaniel let out a sigh, “It’s Marc. Some guys have been messing with him, and he won’t let me do anything.”

Alix frowned, “What have they been doing?”

“What do you think?”

Alix kicked a wall in frustration, “God, that’s still happening?” Nathaniel nodded, “Well, we have to teach those asses a lesson! Make sure it doesn’t happen again!”

He shook his head, “No, I promised Marc that I wouldn’t do anything unless it got physical. So far it’s just been shitty notes and name-calling.”

He started walking to the classroom, Alix followed

“I-I don’t get it.” Nathaniel said, “He doesn’t even care. Or he does, but he doesn’t wanna admit it!”

“Well, why don’t you take it to Damocles?”

“I tried, but he won’t do anything unless I bring him evidence, and Marc keeps throwing the notes away!”, he exasperated, “And, I’m trying, I really am. But I can’t just sit back and watch-” Alix put a finger to his lips, “Alix?”

“Thought I heard something.”

‘Where’s your boyfriend, Anciel?’

‘Looks like he didn’t even want you.’

Nathaniel ran to the source of the cruel voices and found himself standing outside the locker room. He put his ear to the door and listened.

‘Stop it!’

That sounded like Marc

‘What are you gonna do, ya queer?’

Having heard enough, Nathaniel barged into the room and saw the scene before him. Marc was being pinned to the wall by Louis, the school bully. Nothing like Chloe though. She had the common decency to insult people out in the open while he cornered people and threatened them in private. Victor and Clement, his lackeys watched with amused looks as they vandalized Marc’s journal

“HEY!” The bullies were startled by the loud voice, but calmed down when they realized it was only Nathaniel

Louis sneered, “Look, guys. The queer’s boy toy came to save him.” he taunted

Ignoring him, Nathaniel stormed over to Louis and pushed him off of Marc, making him land on the floor. Nathaniel stormed over to Victor and Clement, and snatched Marc’s journal out of their hands. He took Marc’s hand and started pulling him out of the locker room, but he stopped on his tracks when he heard Louis mutter...

“Damn f*gs.”

“... Nath?”

Nathaniel scowled, but did nothing and proceeded to walk Marc out of the locker room while not saying a word. It was quiet up until Alix and Marinette approached them, both looking concerned

“Guys, what happened?!” Marinette asked

Neither of them said a word until...

“Nothing. I-it’s fine.” Marc said

Nathaniel sighed, handed Marc his defaced journal and walked away, leaving Marinette and Alix confused

—

“A boy who only wants to protect the one he loves, yet his lover chooses to suffer in silence.”

Hawkmoth held out his hand and beckoned for a butterfly to land in his palm. Once it perched itself, Hawkmoth covered it with his other hand and the power of the Miraculous filled the butterfly with dark magic, turning it into an Akuma

The Akuma flew out through the window

“Fly away my little Akuma! And evilize him!”

—

Nathaniel stormed down the hallway. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to think. He didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t Marc let him help? Why didn’t he care?... Why didn’t he knock out Louis? He knew Marc endured this kind of treatment constantly, but he wanted to help him... Protect him...

He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear the flapping of an Akuma’s wings. And he definitely didn’t notice the Akuma flying into his bisexual flag bracelet. The purple Akuma symbol appeared over his face. Hawkmoth spoke,

“Painbow, I am Hawkmoth. I understand the feeling of wanting to protect the one you love. Let me give you some assistant. All I ask in return is that you bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.”

“I’ll protect you, Marc.” His whispered as dark purple magic bubbled up from the bracelet and surrounded him. Students standing in the hallway fled, not wanting to face the wrath of the newest Akuma. Some stayed, too paralyzed to move, which was a horrible mistake. Shooting from the Akuma’s hand was a multicolored energy ball. When hit, they felt something seize them, and they were suddenly puppeted by a strange force. Their irises took of the appearance of the color wheel, and they had wide smiles plastered on their faces

“Find my Rainbow, and Louis. NOW!”

—

Alix looked around the classroom, but Nathaniel was nowhere in sight. ‘He must’ve been really upset.’ She thought, and then turned her attention to Mme. Bustier

“Now, please open your books to-”

A flash of multicolored light beamed through the window, making the students shield their eyes

‘What is that?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘They got me!’

‘Sound the Akuma Alarm!’

‘Where are you my sweet Rainbow?!’

The class looked out the window but kept low so the Akuma wouldn’t see them. They watched in horror as the red-haired villain shot rainbow energy balls at random students. Each time he missed, the energy balls would cause a massive explosion. When he did hit a student, their eyes would become multicolored and they’d have alarmingly wide smiles.

“Rainbow, sweetie?!” He called out, “Come on out! We’re going to find you!”

“Rainbow?” Alix whispered to herself. Only Marc was called ‘Rainbow’. She then came to the conclusion, “That’s Nath!”

Nathaniel, now Painbow’s bangs were swooped to the side and dyed the colors of the rainbow, his eyes were blue with no iris or pupil, and they looked like crystals. He has on a white floor-length sleeveless trench coat with a rainbow sash going across the waist, a magenta tank top with blue pants, a purple belt, and black boots. He also has on white gloves, and a rainbow cuff bracelet on his left wrist

“Marc!~” He sang, “I can’t keep you safe if you’re not by my side!” With no response, he shrugged, “I’ll just destroy the whole school until I find you, or Louis!” With that, he fired another rainbow energy ball that created a hole in the wall

Mme. Bustier turned to the class, “While Nathaniel is distracted, you all need to run out of here.” Her students nodded, “And if you find Marc or Louis, make sure they get out.” She looked out the window and sees Painbow hurling lockers at panicked students who weren’t under his control

“NO ONE LEAVES UNTIL I HAVE MY RAINBOW!”

“Run!” Bustier ordered, and the class did not hesitate to run for the door, but when opened, they backed away when they saw the Akuma. The inhumanly wide smile plastered on his face was not easing their nerves

“I clearly said, no one leaves until I have my Rainbow.”

Alix cautiously approached her Akumatized friend, “Nath, whatever’s wrong, just-”

Before she could say another word, Painbow summoned several rainbow energy balls that he shot at the class. Marinette, Adrien, Alya, Nino, Mylene, and Alix managed to avoid them and run out the room, but the rest were now under his control

“Fine me Marc Anciel and Louis Kress! And if you see Ladybug and Chat Noir, take their Miraculous!”, he ordered, and the smiling multicolored eyed students ran out in search for the two

—

Looking through the window in Mme. Mendeleiev’s classroom, Marc watched in fear as the controlled students caused havoc in the school looking for him, while his akumatized boyfriend shouted his nickname and blasted rainbow energy balls from his hands

He sighed, “This is my fault.” He hid his face in his gloved hands

Aurore frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Marc, don’t say that! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“B-but he’s mad because I was getting bullied by Louis,” He explained “and I told him not to do anything.”

“It’s Louis’ fault, not yours.” Aurore said, then smirked, “And Nath’s probably only after you so he can kiss that cute face of yours.”, she joked, causing Marc’s lips to curl into a smile “Ladybug and Chat Noir will handle this. Nathaniel will be fine, and you two can talk it out, okay?” At Marc’s nod, she gives him a side hug

“Rainbow...” Painbow’s eerie voice called out

Mme. Mendeleiev signals for the students to get down so Painbow won’t see them. They crouch under the window as Painbow walks by the classroom

Marc let out a small whimper, making Mireille cover his mouth. They hear the Akuma’s footsteps fade away and let out sighs of relief

Mme. Mendeleiev stood, “Okay, he’s gone.”

Right as she said this, the door to the classroom exploded outwards in a cloud of splinters and rainbow dust, causing everyone to duck and cover. Looking up, Marc saw his villain boyfriend. His smile somehow became even more unnerving when his eyes landed on Marc

“Hello, My Rainbow.” He cooed as he approached him. Before he could get any closer, Mme. Mendeleiev stood in front of him, putting on a brave face in front of the Akuma

“You will not lay a finger on one of my students!” She said in a commanding tone

Painbow didn’t look threatened, and instead let out a laugh. Then with a flick of his wrist, an energy balls shot from his hand, hitting Mendeleiev, and putting her under his control. She stepped to the side, no longer blocking him. He looked around the classroom before honing in on Marc, who was backing into a corner with Aurore and Mireille

He gave a chilling smile, “Rainbow, please come here.” Seeing that Aurore and Mireille had no intentions of letting his love go, Painbow summoned two more energy balls that when thrown at the two weather girls, their eyes become multicolored. “Bring me my Rainbow.”, he commanded.

Aurore and Mireille complied as they dragged a struggling Marc over to the Akuma, and into his waiting arms, “I missed you!”

Marc tried to pry the Akuma’s arms off of him, but to no avail, “Nath! Stop this!” Painbow’s smile strained, “I told you, I don’t care about Louis, just-” Painbow put a finger to his lip, silencing him

“Sweetie, I don’t like your tone very much.” Instead of summoning an energy ball, Painbow kissed Marc’s forehead and the green of the writer’s irises faded and became multicolored. And instead of the creepily wide smiles the other students had, he had a look of bliss. He threw his arms around Painbow and kissed his cheeks affectionately

Seeing a crowd forming around them, Painbow summoned multiple energy balls that flew around the room, hitting each student and putting them under his control

—

Once Ladybug and Chat Noir ran out of their hiding spots after transforming, they found themselves in the courtyard being assaulted by their mind controlled school mates. The ones who weren’t under the Akuma’s control managed to evacuate with the heroes’ help. They spared a glance at Painbow, who had Marc settled in his arms before leaping out of the open roof of the school

“That’s gotta be Nathaniel!” Ladybug rounded up ten students with her yoyo before hurling, then locking them in a storage closet

“Can’t we deal with these guys later?!” Chat asked as he whacked two students away, “There’s too many of them!”

“Alright, let’s go!” Ladybug flung another student away before using her yoyo to zip out of the school, Chat followed, vaulting after her using his staff

As they leapt from roof to roof, Ladybug and Chat came across Alix, Nino, Mylene, Alya, and a few other students who have taken cover above ground. “Are you all okay?” Ladybug asked and received nods along with scattered ‘yes’ and ‘we’re okay’.

“Ladybug,” Alix said as she approached the two heroes, “Chat Noir! Nathaniel is looking for Louis Kress. I saw him running from our classmates! They’re probably still looking for him!”

Ladybug nodded before she opened up the phone setting on her yoyo and pulled up a live-stream, showing Nadja, also under Painbow’s control

“Don’t bemused! It’s just the news!” Nadja said in a cheery tone, “Louis Kress, our second in command’s offender, was recently spotted in the Louvre! Painbow’s loyal followers are doing everything in their power to find him keep him from escaping.”

Ladybug smiled then turned to the students, “Stay safe. We’ll handle this.”

“I’LL FIND YOU, KRESS! EVEN IF I HAVE TO TEAR DOWN THIS ENTIRE PLACE TO DO IT!”, Painbow yelled as he lifted a sarcophagus before throwing it away

Wake up!

He’s controlling you!

Your eyes are supposed to be green, stupid!

“Is something wrong, my Rainbow?”

Marc blinked his multicolored eyes as he looked at the Akuma punching a column. He smiled and shook his head, “I’m fine.”

Painbow gave a warm smile as he cupped Marc’s face in his hands, “Are you sure?” Marc nodded, “That’s good. You should be thrilled. Louis and everyone just like him will be out of our lives forever.”

What did he mean by the last part?!

Wake up, Anciel!

Your boyfriend is an Akuma!

He’s gonna kill Louis!

“I can’t wait.”

Painbow leaned in to give him a kiss, but then the glowing purple Akuma symbol appeared over his eyes and he clutched his head in pain.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!”, Marc asked frantically

Hawkmoth spoke, “Don’t get distracted, Painbow! You had your chance to take the Miraculous, but didn’t seize your moment! Mess this up, or I’ll take away your powers!”

“Alright, just stop it!”, Painbow begged. The searing pain stopped, and he saw Marc looking at him with concern, “I’m fine. Someone is just a little impatient.”

Aurore ran up to the couple, “Painbow, we found him!”, she cheered

Painbow beamed at the news before gathering Marc in his arms, “Finally!”, Aurore lead them into the paintings gallery where they found Louis surrounded by a mob of controlled citizens and being restrained by Kim and Juleka, “Louis, what a pleasure.” He set Marc down and moved toward his victim, looking at him like a jungle cat that had caught its prey

“L-look man! I’ll leave Anciel alone! I swear!”, he pleaded, “I won’t bother you, o-or mess with that goth chick and her girlfriend!”

Painbow’s blue eyes widened at that last sentence, “Excuse me?”, he looked up at Juleka, “Jules, is this true?”

The goth girl nodded, the unnatural smile never leaving her face. Painbow grinded his teeth as he summoned another energy ball, only the colors were darker shades, “I’ve been DYING to use this one!” Louis closed his eye and turned away, knowing very well that this was the end for him. Suddenly, a familiar whizzing sound hit everyone’s ears as Ladybug’s yoyo wrapped around Painbow’s wrist. He lost his focus, and the energy ball bounced around the room before hitting a portrait, burning a hole in the center

Chat winced, “That would’ve been bad.”

“Nathaniel! Do you really want to do this?”, Ladybug asked, trying to reason with him, “What would Marc say?!”

Painbow folded his arms across his chest, “He doesn’t mind.”, he turns to Marc, “Do you, Rainbow?”

Yes! You just tried to murder him!

“Do whatever you think is best.”

“See? He’s fine with it.”

“LUCKY CHARM!”

What dropped in her hands was...

“A roll of tape?”

Using Marc, lead Painbow out of the museum, the others will follow

Have Chat Noir Cataclysm the security system, the bars will drop, trapping Painbow’s followers. He’ll be alone and defenseless

Deflect any of his blasts, then cause a distraction so he’s vulnerable. While vulnerable, wrap the tape around Painbow’s hands, he won’t be able to use his powers

Break his bracelet and free the Akuma

“Chat, go to the security system, and wait for my signal!” With a salute, Chat Noir made his way over to the security system. Using her yoyo, Ladybug wrapped it around Marc’s waist. With a yelp, he was pulled into her arms. “Come and get him, Painbow!”

Terror shone through his voice as he screamed, “SAVE HIM! SAVE MY RAINBOW! We’ll deal with Kress later!”

Ladybug hoisted Marc over her shoulder and ran as Painbow and his followers chased her. She was a few feet away from the gallery entrance when she yelled, “CHAT, NOW!”

“CATACLYSM!”

Chat touched the security system, making it short circuit before turning black and disintegrating into dust. Ladybug and Painbow managed to slide under the metal bars before they hit the floor. The rest were stuck in the gallery with no way out

“GIVE HIM BACK!”, Painbow yelled as he tried to blast the heroes, only to fail as they deflected each attack

“Chat! Cover me!”

“On it, M’Lady!” Chat got in front of Ladybug and blocked Painbow’s attacks by spinning his staff. While Painbow is focused on the leather-clad hero, Ladybug used the opportunity to wrap her yoyo around Painbow’s ankle, and yanked it so he’d trip

Painbow quickly got back up, but before he could attack again, he found his hands bound together by red duct-tape with black spots. He looked up and saw Ladybug reaching for his bracelet. “NO!”, she smashed the bracelet, releasing the Akuma

Catching it with her yoyo, Ladybug said, “No more evildoing for you, little Akuma. Time to de-evilize! Gotcha!” From the yoyo emerged a newly purified white butterfly, “Bye bye little butterfly.” She then tossed the tape roll into the air, “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

Thousands of ladybugs burst from the tape and spread out all over the town, repairing all of the damages. The afflicted citizens returned to their normal selves, confused as to what they’re doing. The magic swept over the students who took shelter on the rooftop, and they were back at Dupont. The Akuma’s dark magic bubbled away, leaving Nathaniel Kurtzberg, confused as to what’s happening

The two heroes fist-bumped, “Pound it!”, while Nathaniel held his head, still very confused

“Nath?”

The redhead looked up as Marc ran over and threw his arms around him, whispering about how he was glad that he was okay, “... Marc, I-I’m so sorry!”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Marc murmured, “it’s okay.”

“No! I should’ve listened to you, but when I saw what Louis did, I-I just-”

Marc cupped Nathaniel’s face in his hands, then kissed his forehead, “You only wanted to protect me, Nath.”

Ladybug smiled, “Marc’s right, Nathaniel. This was Hawkmoth’s doing, not yours.” She wanted to say more, but hers’ and Chat’s Miraculous beeped. They only had three minutes left, “We gotta go now. Bug out!” She and Chat Noir ran out of the museum to find a place to detransform

—

“Well, if it isn’t Painbow.”

Don’t do anything. Don’t pay any attention to him. Nathaniel thought to himself, trying to stay calm, not wanting to become Akumatized again, “Is that supposed to upset me or something? Not the first time I’ve been Akumatized.”

“Well, look at you.” Louis said mockingly, “I guess without your precious Rainbow, you finally grew a spine.”

Don’t do anything. Don’t do anything.

“Screw off, Kress!” A familiar voice shouted. Nathaniel looked at saw Marc, standing behind Louis with his arms crossed, “Need I remind you that you’re part of the reason he got Akumatized?” He walked passed Louis, making sure to bump him with his shoulder, then he took Nathaniel’s hand in his and the two walked to art club

“Yeah, that’s right! Run away, ya pussies!”

“What do you think we’re doing?!”, Marc yelled back

“I’ll be waiting for you outside, Anciel! Your boy toy can’t protect you forever!”, he raised an eyebrow as someone tapped him on the shoulder

Ahem

He turned around, and was met with Alix’s fist nailing him in the face. He fell to the floor with a thud and held his hands over his face in pain as Alix and Marinette stood over him

Marinette glared down at him, “Next time you think about insulting someone for their preferences, remember this.”

“Totally worth the detention I’m getting.” Alix said with a smirk

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #Painbow #akuma nathaniel #Akuma #marcthaniel #marc x nathaniel #rainbow tomato #miraculous sugar #alix sugar #Alix ships it #Nathaniel calls Marc Rainbow #fanfic request #Akuma class

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allsassnoclass · 4 years

Note

Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery. I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era). this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour. This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night. Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed. There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly. It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery. He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke. He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair. It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious. Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her. It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room. Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate. Do you mind if we look around for a bit? He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure. I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste. Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly. Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together. Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad. For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans. Besides, having Luke here helps. Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them. It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him. It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in. “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up. “Ashton, that’s amazing! Which ones? Wait, I want to see them all anyway. Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery. For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories. For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas. Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work. It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him. It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard. At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much. “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall. He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges. Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle. The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really. He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat. He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing. He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says. Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color. Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see. A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange. He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says. “Even I can see it.” He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says. “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head. Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting. This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier. Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs. “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.” Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting. Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning. It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal. The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song. More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green. The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for. Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking. “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean. “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath. Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure. Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.” Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much. I want to buy it from you. You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly. Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again. “We can negotiate a price later.” He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount. I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet. Where are all my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly. “They’re comfortable. They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this. Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself. Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer. Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says. “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself. Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street. Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s. This night feels significant in so many ways. Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him. He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #off-screen #this just set multiple things in stone that were undetermined before today #but when (if) I ever write the prequel things could shift and change #also this Ashton has synesthesia. the kind where he can see music #also me writing the piece with os/co: 'oh Helen isn't going to like this'#ugh I had something else I was going to say about this but now I've forgotten #this is a little treat for the people who follow me here after reading it because this is not going on ao3 until after the prequel #off screen

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