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annoyingbelieverballoon · 8 months

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Turnabout of feelings.

(Enemies to Lovers) (Welcome Home is a wonderful ARG made by Clown illustrations)

Wally darling x Human! Reader.

Word count: 1773. (warning! English isn’t my first language) part 1/3

You were sitting on the carpeted floors of Home. Beside you, Wally Darling was scribbling in the guestbook. Coming into this world of puppets and sunshine was a shock at first. You'd think you'd get accustomed to all the nice neighbours that tolerate and appreciate you more than 90% of humanity, but... Wally darling. The bastard that dragged you here the reason why you can never rest easy, Wally Darling.

He's aloof and innocent in front of others, but you know better. You've seen the eyes on the walls. The notes scattered around the neighbourhood... You've even ventured into the depths of Home. You couldn't say a thing to the others, though. That's how Barnaby and Eddie died last time. That's how you almost died as well.

The two sides of Wally contrasted harshly. It's as if they were two completely different puppets. One was childlike in nature and inquisitive. The other was knowledgeable and all-knowing. Horrifying. You saw how he ate and how he could easily wipe your existence from the neighbourhood if he wanted.

That's why you had to play nice and be a good neighbour. You don't know how many times the other neighbours have died, and you don't want to join them. "Is something the matter, neighbour?"

You were pulled away into the pitch-black eyes of Wally. His eyes dilate whenever he looks at you. You've been staring at him for the entirety of your inner monologue. You tore your eyes away and continued doodling on paper.

Wally repeated his question. He never got an answer. Home creaked and banged to divert Wally's attention. You've always gotten along with Home well. It was alive. Something welcome in this land of eternal sunshine and plush embraces.

Sometimes, if you'd listen hard enough, you'd hear a drumming. Like a heartbeat, it was a comforting sound, unlike the violent bangs on the door and the sounds of screaming outside late at night. You never understood home; you tried learning Morse code, but it wasn't your forte. Home was helpful, though, watchful and obviously a servant to Wally but still caring in a way. You can count on one hand how many times they saved you from certain death.

Your masterpiece was finished, or well, not at all, but you got tired of doodling and simply pushed the paper and art supplies away. Wally moved over to the drawing and inspected it. Spirals and eyes Much like the ones he liked to draw. For a moment, the more violent side of him surfaced, but he quickly put the drawing away and started talking. "What a good artist you are, neighbour!" You half-heartedly listened to his praise. You attempted a conversation once more,

"Why bring me here?" You get ignored.

You sigh and rest your head on the floor. Your head springs up when a quiet whisper leaves Wally's lips.

"What was that?"

"What was what, neighbour?"

Wally stood up and dusted himself off; he then extended a hand towards you.

You both walked out of home; a sunny day awaited you two. Such is the usual weather in this world.

It was run... 32? 35. Each run would be disturbed by you or Wally. And each time you’d lose a bit of yourself with it. You remember a time when you attacked the friendly neighbours at Welcome Home. Wally probably remembers as well. You had enough sanity to stop yourself, however, unlike the man who walks beside you. Wally’s 3-foot stature held your hand as he dragged you onward; his strength was at least superhuman.

You were approaching Howdy’s bodega. The place was pretty crowded today. seemed like an event.

The wind chimes rang as you entered. Howdy was chatting away with Sally and Barnaby. Talking funny business again, it seemed.

"Oh! There you are, Wally! And it’s a pleasure to see our new neighbour with you again!"

"Hello barnaby…. Hello Julie-"

Barnaby looked at his best friend and laughed.

"What a ‘coin’cidence that you joined us, little buddy!".

Howdy laughed heartily at the joke, and Wally tilted his head in confusion.

"…Hello howdy"

"What’s so funny, neighbours?"

Sally explains that they all found a coin whilst walking in the neighbourhood today.

"Can I see it?" You speak, gathering the attention of the room around you.

You inspected the coin closely, and Wally went nonverbal as the other three steered the conversation.

"It’s something out of a noir film, almost!" Sally exclaims

Well, hopefully not! I’d rather not become the neighbourhood’s funniest grey dog!"

"Ohoho! This almost calls for an investigation! I’m sure Jewls would love to hear this! Don’t you think so, walls?"

Wally is startled from his thoughts; his eyes dilate.

"Julie? I think Julie would like a new game to play." Wally smiles.

"Don’t you think so, neighbour?"

"Sure." You were mostly focused on the coin in your hand. That right there was a Franklin half dollar, produced in the 1960s.

Shabby quality, covered in dirt.

Money from your world... being here? As far as you knew, brands from your world didn’t exist here. Seeing as how Howdy sells Brickero’s cereal and cups of Joe that are just diluted orange juice and Breenberry ice cream, whatever that was,

The bodega quiets down a little, and Barnaby cracks another joke. You never laugh. It’s not that you didn’t like these puppets. They were nice. Sweet. Caring. But they were dead. As far as you knew, nobody here was real. Except maybe for Wally and Home. It left a bitter aftertaste.

"Well, my fellows and fellays! Would you care to purchase anything?"

"Wally needs red and green paint, and I need something edible."

"Didn't know you started speaking for each other? Wowie, I feel heartbroken... I can't believe my little buddy got a new best friend!" Barnaby half-joked.

"We’re not friends." -

"We’re the best of friends. -

Sally couldn’t help but giggle.

Wally was still gripping your arm; you had to play nice for now.

Howdy handed you your things in a paper bag and cashed them in on three jokes and a little quip.

You were the one usually telling most of the jokes, and Wally would have to practise for half a day for a single joke.

"What do you call a sad coffee? A depresso," your execution was lacking, but today was too tiresome to put in any effort.

Howdy chuckled but then gave Wally an expectant look.

"What about you walls? Got any jokes? Cracks? Quips?"

"I do"

"You do? Well, let’s hear it then!"

Wally straightened up his posture, tightening the ascot around his plush neck.

"Why did Barnaby get arrested? Because he’s a serial licker."

The execution was made funnier by Wally’s monotone voice.

"Ohohohoho! You never disappoint, dear fellow!"

"Put the other joke and quip on my tab." Barnaby winked at Wally, who smiled up at his best friend.

"We’ll be going now." You walked out as Wally said goodbye to each individual one by one.

"Oh! And don’t forget about the rehearsal later today, dearie!" Sally yelled out to you.

Right, the rehearsal. A play about... a pastry princess? Queen? Who knows… Julie’s the princess, you’re playing as the love interest, and Frank is the king of marshmallows or something.

Speaking of Frank, Frank Frankly was in front of you, face-first into the mud after getting toppled by Eddie. You laughed at that, getting another harsh tug from Wally. Right, laughing at misery was not neighborly.

You and Wally helped Frank and Eddie. It took quite a bit to tug the clumsy mailman up, or maybe it’s just your lack of arm strength.

Frank Frankly gave Eddie a harsh look, though it softened immediately after the mailman apologised. It was clear the two were soft on each other. If this wasn’t proof enough, then the many times one sacrificed themselves to save the other are. It used to sting at first, seeing the two go through the heartbreak and loss.

Wally held your hand and smiled. You looked down at the puppet and sneered. An ugly look on you, he’d say, and you couldn’t care less.

Frank starts talking, thankfully.

"My my, what a day... At least my tomatoes aren’t ruined. Be careful, won’t you next time, Mr.Dear?"

"Agh, sorry Frank I didn’t mean to, I swear. God, I should’ve been more careful delivering those packages. Luckily, nothing broke!"

"Who are you delivering these boxes to, neighbour?" Wally asks, looking at the many boxes on the ground.

Oh, I’m delivering these to the bodega! Howdy’s got a large shipment this week."

Hmm, well, I did need to go there to get more fertiliser for my plants. I’ll join you, Mr. Dear." Frank picks up some of the smaller boxes for Eddie. It was a kind thing, and Eddie thanked Frank --- not without insisting on carrying the boxes himself, of course. Frank simply hushed him and smiled, and Eddie smiled back.

"Won’t you join us? Mr.darling and-"

"No. We just left the bodega, actually," Wally explains.

Oh, alright then! Have a good day, you two!" Frank and Eddie head off.

You continue onward. Home’s following eyes are a comfort at times. Now? Not so much... Wally was staring at you intently as you walked. The creep had a love for eye contact, much to your dismay.

The sky had a reddish hue, never a good sign. You turn to look at Home.

Wait a moment. Where did Home go?

Where they had stood was a hole of black, looking infinitely deep and with a spiral surrounding its edges. An eye opens, a hand grabs your leg; it has five fingers, and as soon as you blink, everything goes back to normal.

"What’s wrong, neighbour?"

You were lying on the plush grass with Wally. Julie was to your right.

You grabbed Wally by the throat; he had done it again. Used his weird eldritch abilities to skip the day along.

Wally’s eyes dilated as black sludge left his mouth.

Julie screamed.

Fuck, there went another run. You were so sick of this. So very tired.

You drifted off again, and you knew you'd wake up again inside of Home. Wally will greet you in the morning, and you'll go through this day again, over and over, until you get it right. Until it goes perfectly.

Huh… Now that you dwell on it, you think he whispered ‘sorry’. Perhaps there’s a hidden third side to this strange puppet.

#wally darling #fanfic #welcome home #wally darling x you #wally darling x reader #part 1 #First time writing a fanfic for WH #Hope you like it.

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arminsumi · 1 year

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Hello Jay! Could you please write headcanons for Eren and Armin (separately) with s/o who is interested in art and likes to paint abstractions?

You bet I can! Headcanons are my favorite thing to write (─‿‿─) Thank you for your request.

Hcs | Eren and Armin with an artist s/o

Just thinking about how Armin cherishes every art piece you created with him and how Eren quietly watches as you paint, then tells you his interpretation of your art. There's just something about your paintings that brings the two of you closer together...

Cws; fluff

Armin

He proudly boasts to his friends and family about his s/o being an artist (￣ω￣)

Adores sitting on your bed and watching you paint

Saves up money in secret so he can buy you the art supplies that you're too humble to ask for as gifts

Expect your birthday presents to be the art supplies you briefly mentioned wanting, because Armin's a sweetie like that

(He's so humble about it, though, he'll always say "It's not much...")

He def saved up for this overly expensive easel for you, and got you the best paints that he could find in Paradis

Ah he loves painting besides you; definitely an artsy boy himself

He'll scribble cute notes on the notebook that's on the stool between your easels

Something like "Kiss pls" because he's too shy to steal one from you, and even shyer to ask it himself

After one kiss he gets bouncy and giddy, then accidentally brushes the wrong color on the wrong part of the canvas

He's insanely creative, and each time you mess something up in your painting, he gives an idea of how you could turn it into something

The two of you can sit for hours painting, listening and singing to the playlists that he put together for 'Painting Sessions w my Darling'

He'll trot to you in the morning across the campus plaza, waving a new sketch of an idea and yelling "WE'VE GOT TO PAINT THIS THING"

You painted an abstract sort of sea for him, and I'll tell ya he keeps it right beside his bed, framed and safe; he'll look at it with a smile every morning

He paints so many oceans that you joke; "You could line them up and make your own ocean at this point."

The two of you had an idea to paint your room together, but Armin added to it; "We'll face our backs to each other, I'll paint this wall and you paint that one and we'll surprise each other."

Bb boy has definitely gotten emotional over things you've painted together, or things you've painted for him

Like he cried over the first painting that you gave him for his birthday

Eren

Quietly watches you paint; you can tell how intently he's observing each brush stroke because his eyes narrow in focus

He's not one to shower your art in compliments, he'll give criticisms where he sees they should be given (Deep down inside, he's fanboying over the fact he's dating such an incredible, artistic person hehe)

Sometimes you bash him about being a harsh critic to your art, but he means it with the best intentions. He would never comment something rude, just constructive

If anyone criticizes your art unfairly, he's prepared to bite their head off about it

If you ever feel contempt for your art, he immediately reassures you

"You're incredible. I'm not just watching you paint because I have nothing else to do... I love seeing you create. And everything you make, it's got a piece of your feeling in it, that's what makes it better than anyone else's... because I can feel you put your heart into it."

He rambles on like that until you have to tell him "I get it, I get it!"

He'll lean down to kiss your cheek from behind when you're super-focused on painting

If you ever fall asleep while painting, he carefully packs your supplies away and carries you to the bed

He's too embarrassed to try painting, but he'll draw silly doodles on your notebooks

Always has interesting and unexpected interpretations of your art; every color you use seems more significant to him than it does to you

He'll bring up aspects of a piece that you didn't even realize you made, so he ends up making you feel fonder of your work

That's all, my lil' noodles. Hope you liked it :D

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kiisaes · 2 years

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How do you draw anatomy so well? Please tell me your secret🙏🏾

If you actually respond/pay attention to this---

Thank You!

thank u for thinking my anatomy is good! ;o;

my "secret": i've been drawing bodies since like 2nd grade, and more "seriously" since 7th grade. i've done a multitude of live drawing studies (drawing nude figures in various poses) which helps way more than you could imagine. i'm an art nut so eventually i improved through sheer work; my body saw how much i was drawing, aka repeatedly bashing my head in a wall, and was like "ok FINE u can get better at art i guess" LOL

anyway, i never know how to answer this question properly because different artists have different approaches to anatomy. the way i draw a body might not make any sense for anyone else, and vice versa.

i've seen youtube videos that are like "DON'T do this! DO this!" and because there's so many of them, they constantly contradict each other. it gets so damn overwhelming because there's no way you can follow all advice provided to you, much of which are from stuck-up artists who think their way is the only right way. there is no only right way to draw!!! please remember that!!!

that being said, here are my tips that might help you, because they happen to help me:

1—

separate the body into shapes! when sketching, i tend to draw my limbs with blob-like "cylinders"/ovals and joints with circles, like so:

these look like messy mannequin limbs, but they get the general vibe down for me. not to mention, they apply weight to body parts by implying muscle/fat. i used to draw with lines and circles, but this subconsciously made me draw arms and legs a lot skinnier and "bone thin" than i preferred. even though these are just sketchy base doodles, it makes it easier for you to build more detail on top of them!

2—

if you want personality in your pose, a great way to allude to that is by using a line of motion! for me, these usually manifest with the spine:

...but they can also apply to the rest of the body by extending past the pelvis. it's up to you! but a general spine/line of motion, even if just a scribble, can imply a different emotion and pose quite simply. i like to draw the torso and line then add arms and legs, sometimes based entirely on vibe LOL

3—

and honestly the BEST piece of anatomy advice i can give you... is to KEEP DRAWING!!! study figures over and over again, go to live figure drawing sessions (or use an online site, there's a handful of free ones), draw a pose you made yourself in the mirror, study the anatomy pros from art books or tutorials, watch shows or animations or hell, comics — actually PLEASE read comics, often times you'll find a cool pose just there for you to analyze and draw — you get the idea! even though i told you these tips, they won't actually mean anything unless you put in the work.

i know "just draw" is a very basic piece of advice that's kind of a duh point, but it sincerely works. i took a figure drawing class my 3rd semester of art school and it helped me leaps and bounds — all it did was have us draw figures over and over! you can get advice from a thousand different artists, but ultimately what matters is what works for YOU. and you won't know what works for you if you don't draw! i know it can get discouraging if you keep drawing and drawing and you're not getting the results you want, but art is a gradual process. i still continuously struggle with art but i'm really glad i improved leaps and bounds in the past couple years, bottom line, i feel more comfortable with drawing bodies, and it's all thanks to my hard work! (or perhaps my relentless fear of failure, which forces me to keep drawing so i don't fall behind lol)

i hope these helped even a little bit!!!!! just remember: anatomy takes a LONG time to figure out and perfect, and any kind of progress is valuable progress! there also isn't one correct way to draw bodies; just use what works for YOU to achieve what YOU want :)

#a bunch of random paragraphs incoming!!!!! woohoo!!!!!!!!#i'm an art student of course i'm going to blurt art advice and nonsense words when given the chance #asks for becki #art help

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sciencestyled · 2 months

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The Pixelated Odyssey: A Caffeinated Romp Through Digital Art and Algorithmic Antics

In the neon-drenched corridors of the digital age, where the binary beats of techno-wizardry meet the chaotic splatter of paint on a virtual canvas, there exists a realm so wildly innovative, it makes the Renaissance look like a high school art show. Welcome, dear interstellar surfers, to the electrifying circus of Digital Art and Computational Creativity, a place where Shakespearean fools moonlight as coding geniuses and Picasso's ghost gets into Twitter fights over NFT rights.

Picture, if you will, a world where the Mona Lisa swaps her enigmatic smile for a pair of LED-lit, meme-spouting lips, courtesy of generative art. Here, algorithms dance the Macarena, birthing artworks so unique, they could only be described as the offspring of a love affair between a Rubik's Cube and a Jackson Pollock painting. This, my friends, is not your grandma's needlepoint; this is art that computes, confounds, and occasionally crashes your system because, well, it's just that groundbreaking.

Now, let's dive headfirst into the pixelated pool of computational creativity. Imagine AI artists, not content with merely mimicking the mundane, deciding instead to throw the proverbial paint can at the wall to see what patterns emerge. These digital Picassos, armed with nothing but algorithms and a healthy dose of sass, create visions so complex, they make quantum physics look like a toddler's scribble.

Generative art, the crown jewel of this techno-renaissance, is where the rubber meets the road—or more aptly, where the cursor meets the canvas. Here, code is king, and randomness reigns supreme. It's as if someone fed a computer a cocktail of LSD and episodes of "Rick and Morty," then asked it to paint its dreams. The results? Artworks that pulsate with life, each pixel a testament to the beauty of controlled chaos, like watching a hundred-hour Vine compilation in a single blink.

But hold onto your hoverboards, because it gets even wackier. The marriage of AI and art isn't just about creating pretty pictures. No, it's about redefining creativity itself. We're talking about machines that can write poetry so profound, it makes Edgar Allan Poe look like he was just doodling in the margins. Or compose music that could make Beethoven throw his wig in a fit of envy. These silicon-soaked muses challenge our very notions of authorship and creativity, blurring the lines between man and machine in a duet of digital divinity.

Applications of this mad science/art hybrid are as boundless as the universe. Fashion, where algorithms design clothes so cutting-edge, they'd make Lady Gaga's meat dress look positively pedestrian. Architecture, where virtual reality allows us to walk through buildings that defy physics like they're defying a curfew. Video games, where procedural generation creates worlds so vast and detailed, they make "The Legend of Zelda" look like a quaint backyard adventure.

Yet, for all its brilliance, the path of digital art and computational creativity is not without its potholes. Critics argue that AI art lacks soul, that it's the equivalent of a microwave dinner: convenient, yes, but hardly gourmet. To this, I say: Poppycock! For in the randomness of algorithms, in the serendipity of computational errors, lies a new form of authenticity. An art form that mirrors the unpredictability of life itself, proving that even in a world governed by logic and code, there's still room for a little magic.

So, as we stand on the cusp of this digital dawn, let us not fear the rise of our creative machines. Instead, let us embrace them, selfie sticks in hand, as we venture forth into this brave new world of art. For in the grand (oops, I mean "spectacularly unconventional") scheme of things, the fusion of science and art through digital means is not just an evolution; it's a revolution. A chaotic, meme-filled, algorithmically generated revolution that promises to redefine the very essence of creativity, one pixel at a time.

In conclusion, dear cosmic voyagers, as you return to your starships and prepare to warp back to your respective dimensions, take with you this tale of digital art and computational creativity. A tale of a world where art is not just seen but experienced; where creativity is not just born but engineered; and where the future of expression lies in the hands of those daring enough to type "Hello, World" into the void. Buckle up, because the future is here, and it's hilariously, mind-bogglingly, unapologetically weird.

#science education #science #science art #art #algorithm

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luveline · 3 years

Text

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

HC: They see MC’s sketchbook!

Art. It’s a private thing. Showing someone your work is akin to showing them a piece of your soul, an insight into who you are and everything that lies within. So when the Obey Me! boys get a glimpse of your sketchbook, they find themselves wanting for more—and all in different ways.

Word Count: 6.0k

*Mild NSFW themes for Asmo & Diavolo

Characters: All Brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

At the beginning of the year, there is 0 trust between the two of you

Not only has he actively tried to kill you, but he’s already so suspicious of the pacts you’re making with his brothers that he can’t help but be wary every time you cross paths

So when he realizes that you’re always absentmindedly scribbling in a notepad every time you interact, he’s more than a little perturbed by it

100% thinks you’re secretly taking notes on his and his brothers’ behavior to use it against them

So, obviously, when he next sees you using it in his presence, he wastes no time in snatching the notebook from your hands

“Oh hey, Lucif—what are you doing?!”

“Nothing you should be concerned with, human.”

“That’s my sketchbook you’re holding!”

“Sketchbook?”

Instantly flips it open and sure enough, inside there’s nothing but doodles and sketches

luci.is.confuzzled.exe

He’s still convinced that there must be something incriminating in the book, so he continues flipping through it. But the more he sees, the more he realizes how wrong he is

It’s only when he flips to the section with his family that he begins to feel guilty

In the beginning, you just draw basic poses. Mammon, glancing at you over his shoulder. Asmo, posing for a camera. Beel, about to bite down on a hamburger.

But the further he goes, the more elaborate the sketches get, and as he flips through the pages, he can feel the amount of work that has gone into each piece

And then he gets to the page where you drew him

Keep it lowkey, but he thinks his heart stopped for a second

He stares at the picture and wonders if that’s what you see every time he shifts into his demon form, because for the first time since his fall, he can’t help but think about how beautiful he looks. Everything looks so right in your art style, from the diamond on his forehead to the way his wings flutter out of his back.

It’s perfection

“I’m confiscating this,” He says quickly, not looking you in the eye.

He then escapes the room faster than you’ve ever seen, and never speaks of the incident again to you

But roughly a week later, you find a small red book on your pillow, and you know that it's a sketchbook from him, to replace the one he took

And even later—after the two of you grow close—you find your old sketchbook stored in his most secure drawer, locked away with a key he keeps hidden. And you know that he’s spent hours looking through the book on rough nights, through the doodles of him and his brothers and everything else you’ve ever drawn

And though he’s too proud to admit it, you know he loves your art

Mammon

He found it when he was going through your stuff, absentmindedly checking to see if you had any valuables on you

And the moment he flipped open to see your little notebook of doodles, his mind went B I N G O

He loves your art the second he sees it, spending a whole hour just sitting on your bedroom floor, flipping through the pages

Adores everything about your art style

And when he starts to see the little doodles you do of his brothers, he’s even more enraptured

You draw all the things he’s imagined but never seen: a sketch of Lucifer dressed in a onesie, snuggling a giant teddy bear. Beel, using a sleeping Belphie as a food tray for a pile of snacks as large as the sixth-born himself. Asmo with cat ears, being chased by Solomon, who appears to be a wolf.

And yet, there are no pictures of Mammon

Man is hurt by the fact that you’ve drawn all his brothers but not him. He’s your first man, after all. You should have been the first person he drew!

Gets a bit upset about it and throws your sketchbook back into the drawer he found it in, stomping back to his room with childlike indignation

Is just a bit petty about it afterward

“Hey, Mammon, can you walk me to school? Class starts in half an hour.”

“Huh? Oh, so now ya want me to do it, huh? Well, why don’t you ask Asmo instead?”

“Okay? I will???”

Soon everyone in the house has realized that Mammon’s being a bit off, and while it was nice at first to have peace and quiet from the resident troublemaker, you guys grow concerned pretty quick

And eventually, you go to his room to talk things out

Let’s just say that when you found out he’d been going through your stuff, you were not pleased. But seeing that he wasn’t going to be the mature one, you sucked it up and whacked the demon on the back of his head, telling him to “wait a second” while you went to “get something”

Cue the retrieval of your second sketchbook

And when Mammon sees it, he’s not sure what he feels more of: guilt or happiness

Every single page in this second notebook is of him. Only a few are colored, but Mammon finds himself enraptured by even the casual doodles in the corners, where he’s doing little things like eating a banana or flashing the viewer a few Grimm

Man is touched. He’s never had anyone do this for him, and certainly not out of their own volition. So suffice it to say that when he tackled you for a hug that night, he didn’t let you go for a long time

And maybe some other stuff happened too. Who knows? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Leviathan

TSL

The second Levi sees you sketching in your artbook (after an incoherent stumble of words which you assume are synonymous with praise), the only phrase coming out of this man’s mouth is TSL

Begins begging you to draw fanart of the Shadow Lord, asking you to sketch him in different outfits, draw him in different poses, put him in various backgrounds, etc.

Basically wants you to bring his imagination to life

“Oh! Oh! Can you draw him baking a cake now? Wouldn’t that be so cool?!”

Absolutely does the wwooooooOOOOOAAAHAHHHHHHH sound effect every single time you show him your work, even if you’ve only made minor changes from the last time you showed him

He takes you on a spending spree, pulling up Akuzon and offering to pay for whatever supplies you want if you’ll just make him a super fancy poster

And so you start

It actually gets to be a pretty good way to grow closer: every day, after school, you head up to Levi’s room to work on the poster he asked you to make him. In exchange, he lets you borrow his manga and you guys watch anime together

Eventually, boi gets the idea of throwing Ruri-chan into the poster, and the second he thinks it he won’t shut up about it

“Oh, come on! You can do it—look, just put her in this little corner right here!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Levi?! Ruri-chan and the Shadow Lord are two completely different characters who are meant to be drawn in completely different art styles! If I mush Ruri-chan into the corner, it’ll ruin the poster’s dynamic!”

“But pleeeeeaaaassseeeee?”

Cue extra pouty Levi

Eventually, you agree to make a separate drawing of Ruri-chan for Levi to hang up next to the poster, because you think that otherwise, he’ll go crazy

When the date rolls around where you’re almost done with everything, Levi formally sends out an invitation to everyone of importance

Man invites everyone from Luke to Diavolo over for the “revealing ceremony” where he plans to hang the poster on his wall

Actually tried to get the demon king to come as well, but Lucifer stopped him before he could get an invitation out

When everyone sees what you’ve been working on for so many weeks, they’re all MEGA impressed because hello??? they did not know you were this skilled???

It quickly turns into a competition, with each one of them trying to outdo each other with how vigorously they can compliment you

And soon enough you find yourself swamped with requests from every other demon in the room, begging you to make them something as elaborate as you did Levi

Satan

It’s a system you guys have set up, where every Tuesday and Thursday night, you’ll sit in the common room on the couch facing each other and will simply open your books to do what you will

You always draw, and Satan always reads

And neither will bother the other until the grandfather clock chimes twelve times, whereupon you both bid each other goodnight and wait for the next session where you do it all over

Except for today, that is

“What are you drawing?”

Ah, there it is

The one question you were hoping Satan would never ask

You subtly (incredibly awkwardly) change the subject, commenting on the color of Satan’s jacket to distract him from his inquiry, and he picks up on the hint, quietly huffing as he turns back to his book

But the mild irritation he feels doesn’t let him fully delve back into the realm of the nonfiction novel he was reading, so he’s more than a little distracted as he goes back to reading about human anthropology

And it’s in this state of distraction that he notices the little glances you’re stealing every so often, before returning to your sketchpad

Yeah, it doesn’t take long for Satan to put two and two together

“Are you drawing me?”

An incredulous question, asked in such an offending tone

He sounds so irate by the fact that you can’t help but helplessly deny it, muttering something about drawing plants and flowers instead

But Satan doesn’t believe it, and in an instant he’s standing behind you, staring at the sketch in your hands which has oh-so-beautifully captured the essence of him on the couch, engrossed in a book with the light from the flames in the fireplace flickering gently against his skin

The anger at being drawn without having agreed to it quickly melts into a quiet awe for your skill

“Can I see your other drawings?” He asks gently, no longer irritated but actually impressed

“I-I’m not sure if you’ll want to—”

“Nonsense. Show me.”

And so you do

You hand him the sketchbook, avoiding his eyes as he flips to the very first page—and imagine his surprise when he sees that even that is a sketch of his face, though the artwork is significantly less advanced than the piece he just saw. Satan flips to the next page, and then the next, and the next, and sure enough: they’re all of him

“I-I just needed a model to practice my artwork on,” You mumble, gaze fixated on the couch. “And you were right there, so I couldn’t resist...and then I needed a model again. And again. And you were always there, and I know I never asked, but I’m sorry, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t—“

“Nonsense,” Satan murmurs, pressing a finger to your lips. His smile has never looked as sincere as it looks now, his gaze flickering back and forth between your face and the sketchbook in his hands

“I’ll be your model, if you so desire it. Just tell me how you want me to sit.”

Asmodeus

Your model for everything

You’re trying to draw the Hulk and you a good frame of reference? And you need a really muscular model? And Beel ABSOLUTELY fits the bill?

Yeah no, Asmo’s your model

You want to draw a child? Someone small and short, roughly the exact same height as Luke (who is an ANGEL and would absolutely help you)? Yeah no, Asmo’s still going to be your model.

Want a cute guy? Asmo. Cute girl? Asmo. Cute animal? Still Asmo.

Man refuses to leave you alone - the second he learns that you’re an artist he insists on gracing your work with the holy sight of his body

Highkey wants to model nude

And you’d be lying if you said that he was a bad model—man can hold a pose for hours without moving even a little, his only fault is that he talks incessantly—but you can easily quiet him by saying that you’re drawing his lips - and the moment you do so, he’s suddenly he’s stiller than a statue, doing his absolute best to remain frozen so that you can capture his perfection

Boi posts 100% of your content on his Devilgram, and while you were hesitant about it at first, now you’re just used to it

Thanks to him, you’re a lowkey celebrity

Like demons love your art style

It’s apparently very refreshing and human-like as compared to the dark and dreary art found in the Devildom, so people go wild over Asmo’s Devilgram page for it

Man thinks that they’d go even more wild if you drew something where he modeled nude

In fact, it’s lowkey a business deal that the two of you have - you allow Asmo to post your work on his Devilgram (giving credit to you, of course), and in exchange he pays for all your art supplies, acts as your model (though that’s really more of him wanting to than it being your choice), and even goes as far as to keep Mammon apart from you while you work, insisting that you need “privacy” and “quiet” while you draw

100% acts like he isn’t even more chatty than Mammon when given the chance

On the bright side, it’s thanks to these weekly art sessions where you draw and Asmo models and talks that you’re always up to date on the latest gossip. You’re 100% caught up with the fact that Zahhak just found out he has another illegitimate son and that Baphomet just liked Rusalka’s post from fourteen centuries ago

So yeah, the two of you have a mutually beneficial relationship

Asmodeus still insists that one thing would make it better though: him modeling nude

But Asmo is a sweetheart about everything, and he goes out of his way to pamper you

Specifically, your hands—after all, those are what work your artistic magic!

Expect him to always be peppering your dominant hand with kisses, massaging it whenever you look tired, giving you weekly manicures completely free of charge, all out of the goodness of Asmo’s heart

*ahem* and weekly requests to model nude

Beelzebub

a m a z e m e n t

Boi is entranced

Like, he’s so mesmerized by your art that he’s not even paying attention to the food sitting right in front of him, simply opting to stare more intently at the drawing you’re holding up so eagerly

It’s quite beautiful, really: The seven demon brothers surrounding you, a reworking of a photograph Lucifer took a few months ago but in your art style. And for that last fact, Beel thinks he likes this version better

“Wow,” He finally manages to say, still too impressed to really think of anything else

He lets his brothers shower you in praise and compliments, silently nodding along and agreeing with every plaudit they thrust your way

But the moment you’re alone, expect to be scooped into his arms and carried to his room

Boi instantly wants to know the process

When do you draw? How long does it take? Where do you do it? How are you getting your supplies? Who pays?

It’s not so much the physical process he’s interested in, but rather the nuances of art that make your work look so you. He’s not interested in learning for the sake of doing, but simply for the sake of understanding because he already appreciates your art so much

Absolutely invites you to his room to have you show him the art process the next time you start working on a piece

And after the first time, then, he invites you back a second - then a third - and then the two of you have settled into a routine where after school, you come to his room and pencil away in your sketchpad, with Beel watching in the background, munching on snacks

It’s quite relaxing for him, actually

He likes watching as you bring a piece together, going over previously flat areas with a second layer of shading to make certain elements pop—and even if he doesn’t completely understand what you’re doing, he’s entirely willing to learn, listening peacefully as you explain what the various tools do

By the end of the month, man has actually memorized all the names of your supplies, handing them to you every time you ask for it - be it something as simple as a request for an eraser or just the blending stump

Lowkey, your work has actually improved since you began working up in Beel’s room

Not only does he have the most comfortable setup, but the man pampers you like royalty, always making sure that there’s water or food for you in case you need something

(And if you do happen to require something that isn’t already in Beel’s room, man will 100% get it for you so that you don’t have to stop what you’re doing)

Honestly, it’s the perfect arrangement: he gives you the ideal working space and you give him hours upon hours of intrigue

And if you happen to begin sitting in his lap one day while you work, something which quickly turns into a pattern, who’s there to stop anything? ;)

Belphegor

Man naps

A lot

And you just happen to be his favorite pillow, so it’s hardly a surprise when all your free time is spent in the presence of a dozing Belphie, always passed out over your legs

So once, just once, you pull your sketchpad out from under your pillow and work on it, a cautious eye trained on the seventh-born’s every move in case he stirs

And when that first time goes smoothly, you pull your sketchpad out a second time

Then a third

Then a fourth - and suddenly, you’re caught in a pattern

It was really just a matter of time until Belphie woke up one day and you didn’t notice

And it’s already too late when the drowsy demon lifts his head, peering curiously onto your lap to see what you’re working on—much to your horror

“Y-you’re awake,” You mutter halfheartedly, a sick feeling settling in your stomach as you watch the demon’s expression shift as he studies your artwork

You hate it

A bubble of anxiety begins to rise, fear over whether he will like your work or call it bad, whether he’ll make fun of your work or tell the brothers, whether he’ll be kind about it or mean

But then, much to your surprise, he flops back onto your lap, utterly unphased

“Nice,” The demon comments casually, stretching as he rests his head along your thigh. “It’s pretty.”

You can only blink as he falls back asleep, utterly confused as to what just happened

He woke up, right? And he saw your art? And he complimented it, telling you that he thought it was nice and pretty?

A sound of disbelief escapes your mouth as you try to process the utter nonchalance with which the whole exchange had concluded with, your shock only interrupted by the light sound of Belphie, who’s already snoring

You groan

But now that Belphie has seen your work, it’s not like there’s much point in hiding it any longer, right?

You pull your sketchbook out, silently continuing to work on the design that the man napping on your lap had said to be “nice,” adding some finishing touches to it

And when Belphie wakes up, he speaks nothing of the entire exchange

From that point and onward, you become a little more comfortable around him, relieved that you don’t need to talk about it with him

And he gets it

For all your free time, while he naps, you draw, and the two of you find a comfortable form of peace together, an odd tranquility lurking in the fact that there are no questions, no answers, just you and him, the sound of scribbling and snoring, your sketchpad and his pillow

And really, who needs anything else?

Solomon

He’s probably the first one to realize, on his own, that you’re an artist

The two of you have nearly all your classes together, thanks to Lord Diavolo, so it’s hardly surprising when the ever-astute sorcerer picks up on the fact that every time he casts you a second glance, you’re working on some mysterious sketch underneath your desk

Doesn’t really care at first

Until he sees your work

Man actually stops when he picks your sketchbook up off the ground, inspecting the page it had flipped open to after you dropped it

“Holy shit”

Doesn’t even ask for permission, he just begins browsing through the sketchbook, growing more and more impressed with each new page he sees

You only snatch the book back from his hands when you realize that the sketch he’s staring at so intently is one you drew of him, thanking him for picking it up with a huff and awkwardly trying to remove yourself from the situation as fast as humanly (heh, yes that is a pun) possible

Wizard boy stops you, ofc

“Come with me”

“But I have class soon—"

Again, doesn’t even wait for your agreement, man just drags you by the forearm to the library and flips open a book, throws down his own notebook, and demands that you use your “art skills or whatever” to help him

Sigh

Precious wizard boy isn’t very good with words when he’s all worked up

It takes you a good 5 minutes to understand that he wants you to compare the summoning circle outlined on the book with the one he sketched to identify where he went wrong, because apparently you have an “artist’s eye” and therefore you should be able to assist him - and he refuses to believe you when you try to convince him that no, this is not your strong suit and you will likely be unable to help him

He gets whinier than Asmo (probably where he gets it from) and will not stop nagging you even as you try to leave, so eventually you just give in and agree to try to help him - and it wounds up being surprisingly easy for you to realize that he missed the secondary outline of the inner circle, among another few minor mistakes

Huh, maybe you are naturally inclined toward this

From that moment and onward, Solomon decides that you are officially valuable (not only do you have magical potential, but you have an eye for summoning circles too? how UNFAIR) and begins spending all his time with you

Doesn’t really care about the fact that you’re an artist at first—is really more interested in how your skills can be applied

But then one day, after a particularly rough night of going through twelve whole summoning circles for twelve powerful demons, he takes a nap and wakes up to find you passed out on the floor, sleeping on top of your sketchbook where you fell asleep doodling him

Highkey touched

And slowly, he begins casually “falling asleep” around you more often, to see and flip through more of your artwork when he wakes up

Sigh

Bby is fucking shady even when he does wholesome shit

Simeon

Okay let’s be real

There’s no peace with the seven demon brothers. Solomon is chaotic. Luke, as much as we love him, is just a lot to be around. And even with Barbatos next to him, Diavolo is a walking tornado that tends to wreak havoc whenever he wills it (and he usually wills it).

So honestly, being with Simeon is the only place of tranquility you can find in the entire Devildom

Specifically, his room

*Which is off-limits to all the aforementioned individuals

He extended the invitation for you to spend some “relaxation time” in his quarters whenever you pleased at the beginning of the year, his angelic heart already sensing the absolute whirlwind of disaster you were walking into when you joined RAD

And while you declined his offer immediately out of politeness, you found yourself sheepishly knocking on his door not one week into the program

And now it’s become an every-day sort of thing

So yeah

Simeon knows about your art

In fact, you can’t seem to draw unless you’re in his presence, because at this point, he naturally soothes you so much that your hand is only steady when you hear the sound of his calm breathing in the background

In fact, you work best when the two of you are spread out on his couch, your back resting comfortably on Simeon’s shoulder while he writes (yes, he manually writes all his books on pen and paper) and you put your legs up on the couch, sketching away in your notebook

It’s the very image of peace, something you can’t seem to find anywhere else in this realm

And Simeon, bless his heart, may be a master of calligraphy, but the precious angel cannot draw to save his life - a fact which you have taken it upon yourself to handle

See, the angel gets tired every now and then—understandable, given that he produces literal masterpieces at his hands

And so when he gets tired, what does he do?

Make incomprehensible doodles in the upper left corners of his papers

So, of course, you’ve taken it upon yourself to bring those doodles to life (even if it requires a half-hour of inspection before you can make out what the sketch was supposed to be) and Simeon loves it

The expression of eagerness that surfaces every time you inform him that you’ve finished a piece is so rewarding, because the childlike glee with which he takes the paper from your hands to inspect it always sends a rush of warmth to your heart as he gushes in appreciation

But uh

Simeon is a special kind of chaotic, something that manifests every time he doodles something on paper

You stare at the angel in disbelief as he informs you that his latest doodle (what appears to be a banana-looking creature in sunglasses?) was actually a monkey ironing clothes—unsure what to say in light of this information

But it’s okay :) There only needs to be one artist in this relationship, and it clearly isn’t him

Luke

It started with cake

He needed “inspiration” to make something for Barbatos, as a thank-you gift for the pastry lessons the elder gave him, but Luke claimed that everything he made, while it tasted fine, lacked in the aesthetic department

And while normally you would play it Simeon-style, leaving it to the younger angel to handle things on his own so that he can grow individually, you felt too bad watching him discard another batch of cupcakes into Beel’s mouth, rubbing his head in aggravation over how annoying it was that nothing was looking right

So you helped him out

It was nothing major, really

Just eight doodles—subtle yet elegant designs for a triple-tiered cake, childish and bouncy arrangements to store flan, little details in frosting to give cupcakes the added element of specialty that makes them infinitely better

But the second Luke saw your paper, he went wild

Boi was running to the kitchen so fast he barely even had the time to shout “thank you”

Apparently, your little sketches sparked inspiration in him so strongly that the flames burned til midnight (much to Simeon’s disapproval), but when Luke was finally done with everything, he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of desserts that looked so perfect it was hard to imagine that he brought them to life from your sketches

Luke spent ages thanking you, shoving desserts down your throat even when you insisted that you were full, so unimaginably grateful that you helped him out of what he called “chef’s block”

Each “thank you” was accompanied either a brownie or a slice of mango mousse or whatever new pastry Luke was creating that day, and before long you were getting to enjoy luxury foods on the daily (much to Beel’s jealousy)

Boy only believed that the debt was paid when you told him that there was no debt to pay, that you sketched those quick little doodles for him out of kindness and not obligation

Believe it or not, Luke’s eyes actually welled with tears for a second at that, before he wrapped you up in a giant (is it really giant if the hugger is so little?) hug, wailing something about you being too “pure” and “perfect” for the Devildom, and that one day you would be very happy in the Celestial Realm

You pat his head, telling him that if it truly made him this happy, you would be glad to help him out again and sketch some food doodles whenever he wanted some new ideas

Cue another round of hugs, muffled crying, and sobs about how amazing you are

Barbatos

Barbatos knew, of course

Not because he used his powers or anything, he would hardly use them for something so trivial, but he was aware from the start that you were an artist because it was he who prepared for your arrival in the Devildom, ensuring that you had all the same amenities and comforts you were used to in the human realm

And, as such, that included art supplies

So the very moment he set his eyes on you, he was aware that you were an artist

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually be good at it

He sees your sketchbook when he’s casually strolling through the RAD library, finding you completely knocked out on one of the tables, the spiral binding of the sketchpad still digging indents into your cheek where you lie on top of it

At first, the butler rearranges your position as a courtesy

He lifts your head and rests it on your hand - which makes a much softer pillow - coincidentally placing your books back inside your bag and taking a moment to organize the papers strewn across the desk

But then he just happens to glance inside

And the second he does, he’s mesmerized

There’s not much in the world that can surprise Barbatos - not after he’s looked after Diavolo, of all people, for so many millennia - but the butler still finds himself holding his breath as he flips through your sketchpad, each piece telling a story so evocative that it leaves him wanting more even when he arrives at a blank page, abruptly realizing that he’s just gone through your entire sketchbook without your permission

Of course, you just have to wake up at that precise moment - sleepy eyes glancing up at the butler and wondering if you’re hallucinating, but the book in his hands is far too real and the shocked expression on his face is impossibly jarring and you flinch, suddenly feeling self-conscious as you realize what must have happened

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman about it, kindly telling you to get more rest so that you don’t pass out in a public library surrounded by demons who want to eat your soul, but he ends the sharp warning with a rather kind remark about your artwork

“I liked the second-last piece best,” He murmurs, casting you a cryptic smile before bidding you farewell

And obviously, the moment he’s out of sight, your nose is buried in your sketchbook, fingers flipping furiously to find the second-last piece you drew which you cannot seem to remember at all, and—

A flush immediately erupts on your cheeks as you see the colored sketch, something inspired by nothing more than a whim

It’s simply two people on a walk—both of them vague imitations of what your mind had wistfully conjured up—one of them bearing the telltale mismatched hair and olive green eyes, the other sharing a quiet resemblance to yourself - a conscious decision, of course

But just as you’re about to flip off the page, another detail you’d forgotten about draws your attention—and your cheeks suddenly burn in embarrassment as you realize why Barbatos singled this piece out

The figures are smiling, gazing at each other from the corners of their eyes. And there, in the very center of the piece, it is obvious:

They are holding hands

Diavolo

RIP to Diavolo’s royal painter

They have been replaced

By you

As much as you fought it, as much as you argued that you were not fitting of this position, as much as you pleaded with the demon lord to not force this title upon your shoulders, Diavolo’s decision to appoint you as the honorary Devildom painter was final—and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up

The title is really just that: a title. Diavolo knows that you’re a busy student, and while he honored your artistic talents with this position, he’s not about to actually force you through the expected proceedings of a true royal painter, not while you’re trying to survive being an exchange student in hell with an entirely unfamiliar curriculum in front of you

But on occasion, he’ll send you a text, asking if you’re free

And you’ll head on over to his palace, ready to paint him

And unlike every other demon, angel, and human in the Devildom, when Diavolo models for you, he actually models nude

Asmo is jealous

Sexual tension is high when you paint him, let’s just leave things at that

And honestly, it really doesn’t matter what you paint - Diavolo seems to be more interested in the fact that it’s a human who did the art in the first place

He once saw your RAD binder, noticing the little doodles you’d drawn on the corner of all your papers, and he immediately took them—declaring that they were art to be preserved for all eternity for historical documentation purposes

So yeah

There’s a hall in Diavolo’s palace filled with your RAD math homework, an eternal reminder of the assignments you copied off of Solomon

(You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing: the fact that you’ve drawn some rather inappropriate doodles on those pages or the fact that, despite having copied all the answers, you still managed to get nearly one-third of the problems wrong, and now your mistakes are to be showcased in the Devildom for centuries to come)

It gets to the point where you and Solomon start making bets over how basic you can get with your art for Diavolo to still consider it “amazing” and “utterly awe-inspiring,” as he likes to put it

In honor of that bet, there is currently a banana peel with a few marker doodles on it hanging in a preserved case in an iced room in the lowest levels of the palace, as none of the “art” can be wasted

But in truth, the demon lord’s fixation with human culture is endearing, especially when Diavolo tries so hard to be accepting of it

So eventually you stop giving Diavolo wacky art and actually start putting your full effort into your creations—your reward being the fact that the final piece you complete gets hung in Diavolo’s private bedroom, where he promises to gaze at it every night for the rest of eternity, vowing to remember his time with you every time he sees it

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agentnico · 3 years

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The Mitchells vs. The Machines (2021) Review

This new film warns of the dangers of tech consumption yet it appears on a streaming service that’s entire business model is based upon screen addiction with their endless binge worthy content. As they say the irony is most definitely present!

Plot: A quirky, dysfunctional family's road trip is upended when they find themselves in the middle of the robot apocalypse and suddenly become humanity's unlikeliest last hope.

A new animated film produced by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller who are yet to make a miss, having made a career out of taking familiar formulas and turning them upside down on their heads, whether it be 21 Jump Street that took the idea of the original TV show and gave it more energy and modernistic humour, to The Lego Movie that took the excuse of squeezing more money out of a popular children’s brand and actually made a well made movie and then there is Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse which basically went and created its own animation style inspired by graphic novels. These guys have a very original voice in Hollywood and they prove it time and time again. Their new Netflix animated venture The Mitchells vs. The Machines is no exception.

I watched this film with my girlfriend and the most recent animated feature we watched together was Soul, which was one of my favourite films last year for its emotional heft and good hearted message, and I am not at all sorry to embarrass her and report that my girlfriend balled her eyes out at that movie. Well wouldn’t you know the same thing happened here with The Mitchells vs The Machines. And honestly it caught me off guard, as this movie is really funny and has that fast paced high-energy load of constant jokes being thrown at you right from the get-go similarly to The Lego Movie that when the dramatic scenes do strike they surprise you and so one moment I’m chuckling away and the next I’m staring at my girlfriend who’s eyes have turned into Niagara Falls. Would have taken me nothing to get a canoe and go down that stream whacking her cheeks with my paddles! However her tears were well founded as behind the comedy and the central plot revolving around this alien invasion is a tale about a father and his daughter and them reconnecting and it reminded my girlfriend of her with her dad but even in itself this is a plot point that many audiences can connect with and this element is handled super well in the film. Also helps that the voice actors for these two characters - Danny McBride and Abbi Jacobson - share great chemistry, or do I call it VOCAL chemistry?... Is that a thing? Can I say that? Do I make sense or am I a fool? The likelihood is the latter, but I digress. Nevertheless with this emotional thread I bet Disney is gutted they didn’t acquire the rights to this movie as it would have fit perfectly in their Pixar catalogue.

Typical to other Phil Lord and Chris Miller produced animated projects, the animation in this film looks super unique. The blend of CGI with 2D motion drawings scribbled over many shots make it look as if the lead character Katie, a tech-heavy arts college student is literally doodling on each frame, just like with filters and captions that appear on our phone screens in real life. Overall the film is directed really well and the comedic timing is spot on with so many highlight sequences, whether its the goofy short films that Katie makes from documenting her family’s disastrous road trip that includes traffic jam road rage and a seven hour mule tour gone wrong where we unfortunately lose the unsung hero that is Prancer to the canyon, to then the weirdly intense scene where the classic childrens toys Furbies are turned into monsters that act like gremlins, or Olivia Colman’s villainous Siri-type phone AI passive-aggressively being furious and cranky in her evil robot lair that looks like it was designed by Pink Floyd or Daft Punk. There’s so much attention to detail packed into this film and a lot of it is just random additions that are added for the sake of fun, and the entire thing reminded me of the new co-op video game that me and my girlfriend have been playing recently called It Takes Two (which I highly recommend!!) which to be honest shares a lot in common with the spirit of this film. It’s all so CONNECTED!! Honestly the only reason I referenced It Takes Two is cause me and my girlfriend have been enjoying it immensely and I needed to find a pointless excuse to share some non-paid unnecessary advertising for this game.

The Mitchells vs The Machines is an exciting and hilarious family adventure that has something for everyone, and to be honest is a welcome treat for our current pandemic times. I loike it a lot, it’s noice!

Overall score: 8/10

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kuroo-shitsurou · 3 years

Text

Bestfriend (College!Childe x College!Reader) PART 1

note: hello! i'm going to be making an entire college au series for the genshin characters ehe. this is a pretty lengthy one so i had to cut it into two parts. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.4k

"Why can't I get this shit to work?!"

You checked the clock.

3:28 AM.

Great. You had a half-seven morning class with professor Cyrus, and yet, here you were. Baking cookies at 3:28 AM. Although, baking wasn't really the appropriate term for it. Maybe... burning was a better fit.

You weren't a culinary arts major; Far from it, actually. You were in a college course that needed immense analytical and critical thinking skills: Accounting. You loved your course. You were always amazed by how numbers can always add up properly if you analyzed all the transactions properly beforehand. It also gave you more patience to thoroughly understand each problem presented to you so that you'd end up with the right answer in the end.

Which is why you were so dumbfounded when your cookies looked like pieces of charcoal the moment you took them out of the oven.

You followed the recipe, didn't you? Why don't your baked goodies look like those gorgeous gooey chocolate chip cookies on the website?

That was the... fourth batch of cookies you made that night. Frustrated, you carelessly threw the still-hot baking sheet in the sink. You didn't even mind that there were crumbs and burnt cookie residue in your damp sink. Like, there were burnt cookies on your counter, on your dining table, and even on your stovetop. Why be bothered about the sink, right? You could clean it up in the morning, anyway.

"Why am I even doing this?" You sighed, eyeing how there was a bit of black smoke coming out of your oven. You opened a window and fanned it out to prevent the smoke detector from going off. You didn't need more nuances adding to your already dwindling patience.

Taking in the sight of the flour, sugar, and egg-coated workstation you had, you realized that baking just wasn't your forte. If only your boyfriend was interested in receiving his complete financial statements for the year, then maybe you'd have an easier time in thinking of a present for his birthday.

You looked at the calendar.

July 20th.

It was the day of Childe's birthday.

He informed you yesterday that his friends had invited him to go to a party the night of the 20th to celebrate his birthday, and you politely declined his offer for you to be his plus one. Of course, he was disappointed. You could notice by how his cerulean eyes drooped to the floor and how his thin, pink lips pushed themselves into a pout.

"But... You have to be there, _____." He whined, taking your hands in his.

"I know, Childe. But you know that I have to review my presentation for professor An's class. It's going to make or break my term grade." You were disappointed. You wanted to spend the entire day with Childe, maybe cuddled up in bed, eating hot pizza and watching Netflix. However, you knew how much he loved partying and hanging out with his friends- Kaeya, was it? and the other boys in their fraternity. You disapproved of his frat-boy party-going lifestyle, but you didn't want to impose, so you just kept it to yourself.

"But it's my birthday," He reasoned, voice laced with sadness.

"I know, darling. I know. We can still spend the entire afternoon together before you head out to party with your friends... If you want. You're free for the entire day, right?" Your voice faltered a bit, unsure of whether he'd accept your proposal or not.

"Mhm! I'd be more than happy to spend the whole afternoon tomorrow with you, babe. We can hit the amusement park, or maybe watch a movie, or maybe have a picnic, or..."

As Childe continued to ramble on about all the possible plans you could do tomorrow, you couldn't help but smile at him. How his demeanor changed, and how he could never seem to hold a grudge against you even if he was upset. He spoiled you so much and you wanted to let him know that you appreciate him as much as he loves you.

And... Here you were.

You didn't expect baking to be so hard. You thought that following a simple recipe would lead to a great outcome the first time around.

Look how that turned out for you. Your tokens of appreciation for Childe were there. In the sink, on the counter, on the dining table, and on the stovetop. All burnt and inedible.

"Fuck this baking thing, I'll just get Zhongli to help me before lunch." You muttered, taking off your apron and retreating to your couch. You didn't want to sleep in your bed because your clothes were still messy, but you were too tired to clean up (too pissed to even care, to be honest).

And so, you flopped on the couch and set an alarm for 6:00 AM before you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of burnt baking pans and noisy smoke detectors.

The annoying sound of your alarm rang in your ears like a never-ending mockery of how your life is going. Why do morning classes exist? Why do alarms exist?

You groggily rubbed your eyes and rolled off the couch, landing on the carpet with a soft "thud". You blindly felt around the coffee table to look for your phone. Upon feeling the silicone texture of your case, you pulled it towards your chest and squinted your eyes as the bright display of the lock screen glared against your eyeballs.

You opened your phone by using the passcode (0720, go ahead and guess what that means) and tapped on the green message icon to open your texts. You then quickly typed out a message for a certain history major.

[ Hey, Zhongli, mind if you help me out before lunch later so I could bake some cookies for Childe? ]

Sent 6:04 AM.

You looked up at the ceiling and waited for a while, already planning out your itinerary for the day. The ding! of your phone was heard, waking you more than you already were.

[ I don't see why not. I have a vacant period right before lunch. I'm off at 9:00 and I'm vacant until noon. Are you free then? ]

Received 6:06 AM.

You couldn't help but grin. Zhongli was so kind. He was Childe's friend since high school, and although you found him somehow... creepy because of the knowledge he possesses (Seriously, was his brain implanted with a computer chip or something?), you still considered him a good friend.

[ Thank you so much! Yeah, I only have one class today anyway. I'll meet you in front of the main building by 9:00. ]

Sent 6:08 AM.

You got up from the carpet and stretched for a bit, wincing when the small burn on your arm stung. You had a few cuts and burns on your hands, fingers, and arms because of how clumsy you were in the kitchen, but it was fine. Who doesn't fuck up from time-to-time

You headed to the kitchen to clean up. You dumped all the burnt biscuits into a large garbage bag, wiped the counters, and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Most of the mess was already gone and disposed of, and you whispered to yourself that you could probably deep-clean later that evening after reviewing your presentation.

The ding! of your phone brought your attention back, and you smiled at Zhongli's response.

[ I'll see you then, _____. I appreciate you doing all this for Childe. ]

Received 6:15 AM.

You quickly made your way to your bedroom and grabbed different pieces to throw together a decent outfit. You assumed that Childe wouldn't let you go by the time that your little date would begin, so it's best to be prepared.

You hopped in the shower and did your morning routine, making sure to use your favorite body wash, which happened to be Childe's favorite scent. You dried your hair afterwards and threw on the outfit you prepared earlier. You checked your phone.

6:45 AM.

There weren't any new messages from Childe, so you assumed that he was still asleep. After all, it's his day-off from uni. The lucky bastard got to get one whole day without lectures, and the freest day you had still required you to attend one morning lecture.

"I have to rush to McDonald's if I want to make it in time," You whispered, grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes on before rushing out the door.

You wanted to buy Childe a nice breakfast before heading to your own class. So, you sprinted to the McDonald's just a corner away from your dorm and stood in line. You ordered his favorite breakfast meal: A big breakfast deluxe set with hot chocolate, five-piece nuggets, and a side of apple pie. You also ordered a McGriddle for yourself that you could sneakily bite out of in class.

Childe's apartment was right beside the McDonald's you went to, so it wasn't any trouble reaching where he was. You checked your phone again.

7:10 AM.

Crap. Twenty minutes until your lecture with professor Cyrus. Childe still seemed to be asleep, so you decided to leave his breakfast with the receptionist, Verr Goldet. She already knew who you were because of how often Childe invites you to his apartment.

"I'm really sorry to leave this with you, Verr. But I have to get to class in twenty minutes and I think that Childe is still asleep." You said sheepishly, placing the paper bag on her counter and fiddling with the strap of your bag.

"Oh, _____, you act as if I'm a stranger!" She laughed, taking the paper bag and placing it behind her. "Don't worry, I'll keep it warm for him. Would you like to leave a note?"

"Ah, yes please!" You took a piece of paper and a pen from your bag and scribbled a short message for the ginger.

Happy birthday, Childe! Have a hearty breakfast, I got your favorites. I'll see you later for lunch, okay? I love you! ♡

You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible, and even added a messy doodle of the man himself. Although, it did look more like a potato than the man you were trying to draw.

"How cute you are." Verr sighed, "It must be nice to feel the wonders of youth."

"Thank you so much, Verr! I really have to get going if I want to get to uni in time."

"You're welcome, _____!"

You bid your farewells and headed out of the apartment's lobby, walking towards the shuttle stop nearest to you. You had at least fifteen minutes before professor Cyrus' class. The shuttle was about ten minutes away from uni, and it would take you a little over five minutes to get to his lecture hall. While waiting for the shuttle, you quickly tapped out a message for your boyfriend.

[ I left something with Verr for you downstairs. You better get it as soon as you wake up ♡ ]

Sent 7:15 AM.

The shuttle arrived as soon as you hit send. You showed your ID to the driver and scrambled for a seat, shoving earbuds in your ears to drown out the rest of the world with a bit of music. Fortunately, the shuttle ride was quicker than usual since there were lesser stops for that day. You gave a light bow to the driver before you rushed out of the shuttle doors and bolted to get to your lecture hall.

It was on the third floor of the left wing of the main building. You were desperately trying to catch your breath as you felt a burn rising in your lungs. You wanted to puke because of how hungry and tired you felt so early in the morning, but you brushed it off.

You sprinted down the hallway to professor Cyrus' lecture hall, seeing that nearly all the seats were occupied. There were still a few vacant seats at the back, but you were glad to see your friend, Xingqiu, waving you over from the middle row.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," You thanked your blue-haired friend, fixing your hair and disheveled clothes. You sat down just in time as professor Cyrus walked into the lecture hall and began setting up his laptop to present.

"No worries. I knew you'd be late. It's Childe's birthday today, no? You've been talking about it all week. I already expected that you'd do something for him this morning." He said, not even batting an eyelash as he carefully opened his laptop in front of him.

"That predictable, huh?" You chuckled, placing your own laptop on the table and taking out the McGriddle you shoved in your bag earlier. Professor Cyrus seemed to be tweaking a few things on his presentation, so you decided to use the spare minutes to eat the sandwich you purchased.

You scarfed it down in a few bites, leaving Xingqiu confused and a bit scared. He thought you were going to choke.

"Didn't you have breakfast before you left your dorm?" He asked, marveling at how you managed to eat the McGriddle in- four, maybe five? bites.

"I mean, I bought this," You said, motioning to the crumpled up wrapper in your hand. "It was getting late since I dropped by Childe's apartment to leave him his breakfast."

"How charming of you, _____." Xingqiu chuckled, slipping on his glasses.

"I wonder if he's awake now," You mumbled, loud enough for Xingqiu to hear, but he didn't react to it.

You opened your phone and saw seven messages from your dorky boyfriend.

[ _____ you're gonna make me cry ]

Sent 7:28 AM.

[ Where are you now? Are you already at uni? ]

Sent 7:29 AM.

[ God, I love you so much, _____! You even got me nuggets!! ]

Sent 7:30 AM.

[ I love you sooo much!! You're so cute it's unreal!! Btw, is this supposed to be me?? Do I really look like that??!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'm so lucky to have you, _____. You really are the sweetest!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'll see you later at noon. I'll pick you up at your dorm, okay? ]

Sent 7:32 AM.

[ You must be in class now. Good luck!! I'm already eating. Thank you so much, darling! I love you!! ♡ ]

Sent 7:34 AM.

You couldn't help but smile at how his aura radiated even through the screen of your phone. You clicked on the notification from Instagram and it opened to a video on Childe's story. It was a boomerang of him making a winky face and then showing his meal neatly placed on his table.

There was a caption beside a heart sticker which read:

What a great way to start my birthday. Thanks to my lovely @_____. I love you so much! ♡

A familiar warmth spread throughout your chest and you couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was. It was amazing, really. Childe's words and actions always had such an effect on you, and it didn't even matter how you were the one who did a romantic gesture for him because you were here all blushy and gushy over his sickeningly sweet messages of affection.

You put your phone away as soon as professor Cyrus soon started his lecture on the different trading policies limited by oversea regulations- or something like that.

The lesson itself was interesting, but you couldn't help to nod off and daydream about your wonderfully dorky boyfriend and his beautiful eyes, his cute button nose, his slim cheeks, his pink lips.

Childe sneezed.

As soon as the last bell rang, you quickly gathered your things and shoved them in your bag. You nodded a swift goodbye to Xingqiu before running off to the entrance of the main building.

Zhongli messaged you that his lecture ended earlier than expected, and that he was waiting for you by the entrance already.

You saw the brunette sitting on one of the benches, a thick history book in hand and reading glasses firmly sitting on top of his nose. You noticed a few girls just a couple of feet away from him. They were eyeing him up, probably drinking in the sight of this beautifully constructed creature.

You chuckled. It was common for you to be more aware of people fawning over Childe and Zhongli. They were a couple of incredibly hot males, you knew that. You got used to the sight of other people gawking and eye-fucking your boyfriend and his bestfriend that it was just hilarious and amusing at this point.

"Zhong!" You called, earning the attention of both Zhongli and the group of girls.

"Ah, _____. Glad you're finally here." He closed his book and tucked it away in his satchel (This man owned a satchel) before he stood up to greet you.

"Were you waiting long? Sorry." You said sheepishly.

"No, not at all. I was enthralled by this one chapter on the Ming Dynasty and their more underrated feats. History never fails to amuse me." Zhongli replied, a glint sparkling in his amber eyes.

"Hey, um," You inched yourself closer to him, "Mind if we go on ahead? Some of your fangirls are scaring the hell out of me." From the corner of your eye, you could see how they were drilling holes at your head from staring too hard. You could've sworn one girl was even holding her phone up, as if taking a photo.

"What?" The taller man whipped around to look at the girls and they scurried off upon seeing the intimidating glare in his eyes.

"You and Childe really attract attention everywhere you go, don't you?" You chuckled, walking towards the shuttle station.

"Childe, certainly. He, along with his... fraternity brothers do attract quite the crowd whenever they are together. As for myself, I doubt it. I'm more of the silent-type compared to him, anyway."

"Are you kidding me?" You bit your tongue to hold back the thought.

"I see."

"Those girls look familiar, though." He mentioned.

"Oh? Maybe history majors as well?"

"_____, if they were history majors, I would've at least recognized their faces more clearly. I feel like I've seen them somewhere."

"Ah, my bad. You and your eerily accurate memory." You teased, climbing onto the shuttle and sitting on one of the empty seats.

"It is not eerie, thank you very much." He retorted with a snarky tone, joining you on the seat.

"Of course it isn't. You remember what I said to Childe when we were watching that one movie Rex Lapis: Revenge of the Fallen?"

"Indeed I do. You said, "Rex Lapis would be hot if he was a human, don't you think?" and Childe replied, "Yeah, but I could probably beat him up. I'd be way hotter than him." It was comedy, really. Rex Lapis, although a fictional figure, has far more capabilities than Childe could even dream of."

"Do you... not see the eerie part of that?"

"What? That Childe thinks he can beat up an actual Archon?"

"No... Zhongli, we watched that movie three years ago."

"Your point is?"

"...I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday."

"Childe bought you some sushi."

"See what I mean?!"

"That means you have a poor memory, _____." Zhongli laughed at your face curling into a frown. "Anyway, while you were entertaining me with your banter, I recalled why those girls are so familiar."

"Do tell."

"They're part of Childe's posse."

You could've sworn your heart leapt to your throat. You knew that your boyfriend was pretty much sculpted by the Archons themselves, but, really? a fucking posse?

Zhongli noticed how the lump in your throat bobbed, and he decided that it was better to calmly explain how and why he knew about it.

"See, it was during the first year of university. Childe started hanging around Kaeya and his other fraternity brothers. There was this one occasion where Childe was nearly black-out drunk in a bar. If I didn't see on Kaeya's Instagram story, I wouldn't have known," You noticed how Zhongli's face visibly darkened, "These girls were hanging off him like koalas to a strong tree branch. It was unsightly."

"I... see."

"Although he was about to pass out, he pushed them away. Charming, really. He was already crazy about you even during the first year of uni. Even though you weren't together yet, he didn't want to "cheat" on you by entertaining other females." A soft smile made its way to your face upon hearing Zhongli's confession about how your boyfriend felt about you.

"I'm determined to make these cookies a success," You said determinedly.

"Glad to hear it. It seems we're already at your dormitory. You still have enough ingredients for the cookies, right? I assume you failed quite a few times yesterday."

"How did you even know?"

Zhongli once again laughed as you stepped off the shuttle, "Lucky guess."

Unbeknownst to the two of you, three figures were following you the moment you left the campus.

"_____ is so sweet! They got my favorite breakfast this morning." Childe mindlessly gushed over his significant other.

Diluc wasn't really one to listen to other people ramble on and on about feelings and love and romance, but it was his friend's birthday. He'd let it slide.

"Bro, that's just gross," Kaeya spat, taking a chug of his beer.

"Oh, shut up, Kaeya. Just because you don't plan on committing to anyone doesn't mean the people around you are obligated to do so as well." Diluc rebutted, without even looking up from his journal.

"You're in college. It's the time when you're supposed to have a shit ton of flings, no commitment. And yet you're here being loyal to _____?" Kaeya glared at Diluc, but the redhead only flipped him off.

"I don't see the problem with that." Childe spoke up, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. It was a gift from you during your first anniversary. You said you made it yourself, and although Childe could purchase all the expensive jewelry and accessories he wanted, this particular bracelet meant more to him than anything.

"The problem is _____'s going to hold you back!" Childe knew that Kaeya was half-drunk and it was still before noon, so he didn't really take his words seriously. "They aren't going to the party later, right?"

"No, unfortunately. They have to review a presentation for professor An's class."

"Hah! Review my ass. If I knew any better, that little toy of yours is just messing around with some other dude."

"Watch yourself." Childe stood up from his seat. He knew that Kaeya disapproved of their relationship because it wasn't really a "frat-boy" thing, but he didn't care about that. He cared about you more than a stupid reputation, and definitely more than a stupid lifestyle of partying, getting high, and getting drunk.

"Back up, softie. _____'s pussyness rubbing of on 'ya?" Kaeya's words were slurred, but Childe knew that there was malicious intent behind them.

"Look, I don't care about what you say about me. Call me a softie? Call me a pussy? I don't really give a shit. But the moment you start shitting on my _____? Don't even consider that I'd just stand around and let them be slandered, you piece of fuck." Childe was a few centimeters taller than Kaeya, and he always used that to his advantage when he wanted Kaeya to understand his point.

"Whatever you fucking say. It's your birthday, I'm not gonna fight with you on your birthday." Kaeya lightly pushed Childe away from him before downing the rest of the beer can in his hand.

"Don't mind him," Diluc spoke, staring into Childe's eyes. "He never thinks straight, whether drunk or sober."

"Yeah, I kinda got the message." The ginger chuckled, watching as Kaeya nearly tripped over his own feet while walking towards the case of beer supposedly for the party tonight.

"I'm glad that you and _____ are still getting along. It's refreshing to see normal people once in a while."

"Well, when you put it that way." Childe could only laugh.

"Where's the tall brunette at? Isn't he always with you?"

"Ah, you mean Zhongli? I don't know, actually. He has a lecture this morning and I wanted to meet him for a light meal before lunch, but he isn't answering my texts."

"I see."

As if on cue, Childe's phone emitted a soft ding!

He typed in his password and the screen faded into a photo of you. You were wearing one of his hoodies (it was way too big on you) and he could've fainted because of how absolutely adorable you looked.

He received a few Instagram DMs from Ellin. Ellin was a member of their posse. Childe would rather refer to them as "fraternity friends", but she insisted otherwise.

[ You're seriously praising _____ for being a good partner? Poor you, dear. ]

Received 9:41 AM.

He frowned.

[ What are you talking about? Mind your business. ]

Sent 9:42 AM.

[ Oh? It's not my business, sure. But you might wanna see this. ]

Received 9:44 AM.

[ 3 Images Attached ]

Received 9:44 AM.

Childe's eyes widened. Ellin sent three photos.

The first one was a photo of you and Zhongli standing awfully close to each other in front of the university's main building.

The second one was of you and Zhongli sitting beside each other in the shuttle.

The last one was... you and Zhongli entering your dormitory building.

"What the..."

He checked his messages to see if either you or Zhongli texted him about the ordeal. However, he was only greeted by messages wishing him a happy birthday from some of his family and friends back in their hometown. No messages from Zhongli, and no new ones from you.

"What the hell?"

He quickly typed out a message for his bestfriend. He didn't jump to conclusions; He trusted both of you, but what was this feeling in his gut? It felt icky, gross, and disgusting.

[ Where are you rn? Answer me. ]

Sent 9:46 AM.

His foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace. Diluc wanted to question him, but the worried look on the ginger's face made him bite his tongue.

Childe wasn't the type of person to jump to conclusions, nor was he the type of person to get upset immediately over trivial things. But upon receiving an irksome reply from the amber-eyed bestfriend he knew and love, his blood began to boil.

[ None of your business. ]

Received 10:05 AM.

#genshin #genshin impact #gi #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #childe #ajax #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #im gonna fucking cry i love this ginger man so much #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin fanfic #genshin ajax

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Sub Scenario w/Carla

–> In between the main route chapters, the player is taken to the area map of the Parade where you can freely roam around. There are four different places to visit, each with different mini games and sub scenarios to enjoy.

AREA: GLIMMER DARK STREET

CHARACTER: CARLA

ー The scene starts in Aizen Alley

Carla: ...Hm...

Ayato: The fuck? What’s Mr. Scarf up to, gazin’ at the wall of some dirty alleyway...?

Carla: Who do we have here? ...It is you two...

Hmph...Even if I were to explain, there is just no way you lowlives could ever comprehend.

Ayato: Aah!? The fuck’s your problem...? Are you pickin’ a fight with me, huh!?

Yui: ( It seems like he was really absorbed by the graffiti (1) on the wall... )

Carla: Then take a look...

At this calculated composition, executed in such a way it reflects a sense of nonchalance...This is a high-level artwork.

Ayato: Haah? Artwork...? These scribbles on the wall?

Carla: ...Yes. Furthermore, this deep shade of blue...It is not easy to achieve such depth in color.

Well, I do realize that I am wasting my time by explaining this to people who simply do not have an eye for art.

Yui: ( I-Is that so...? )

( However...After hearing Carla-san’s explanation, this graffiti suddenly looks extremely artistic to me... )

Ayato: Che. Look at you actin’ like you know it all...I don’t like your attitude.

Watch me do this!

*Pssh pssh*

Yui: ...Ayato-kun!?

( He doodled over it with a can of spray paint laying on the floor! )

Carla: ...! You fiend! What are you doing...!?

Ayato: Hah! Oi, take a good look!

I’m ‘bout to make this graffiti a million times cooler!

Who chose this dark of a color anyway...? If you’re gonna put graffiti on a wall, you gotta make it bold! Red’s the way to go!

*Psh psh*

Carla: ...You fool...You have ruined the well thought-out composition...

Ayato: Oh fuck off! Who gives a damn ‘bout ‘composition’ or ‘disposition’? (2) Art has to be impactful!

*Psh psh*

Yui: ( Ayato-kun completely painted over it... )

*Thud*

Ayato: There we go. Yeah, that’s lookin’ more like it!

You have to at least go this far. Way to go, me!

Carla: ...

Yui: ( Carla-san...He’s been silently staring at the wall this whole time...Is he upset, perhaps? )

Ayato: ...What’s wrong, Mr. Scarf? Got a problem with my work of art? Aah?

Yui: ( O-Oh no...At this rate, they’ll break out into a fight...! )

Carla: ...This has its appeal as well.

Yui: Eh!?

Ayato: Aah? W-Well...I guess...?

Carla: With the artwork from earlier...As excellent as it may have been, I did feel as if something was missing.

...Hmph, I see...

Ayato: ...R-Right? When I get serious, this is what I’m easily capable of!

Carla: I see. By mixing in shades of red to the entire piece, it brought out a new depth to the artwork. I would not mind adding this one to my personal collection at home...

...

Yui: ( Carla-san...He froze while looking at the wall... )

Ayato: O-Oi...Let’s get goin’ now, Chichinashi.

Yui: You’re amazing, Ayato-kun. You got praised by Carla-san.

Ayato: Yeah...I guess so. Piece of cake!

Yui: ( Although I’m not sure if Ayato-kun is impressive, or if Carla-san just has a questionable taste in art... )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 落書き or ‘rakugaki’ can refer to ‘doodles’ in general. However, since they talk about a ‘wall’, I think ‘graffiti’ is probably the most accurate translation here.

(2) Ayato has another ‘I suck at my own language’ moment here since he probably doesn’t know the word 構図 or ‘kouzu’ (composition), so he relates it to another similar-sounding word being 坊主 ‘bouzu’, which is either a Buddhist priest or can be used to refer to a shaved head. :p In my translation, I chose a word which sounds similar to ‘composition’ in English, rather than translating the Japanese word.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #carla tsukinami #lunatic parade #diabolik lovers translation #lpayatosubcarla

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prettytoxicrevolver · 3 years

Text

Drawing | Colson Baker

Requested? Yup! I hope you like it :) @bakerkells

Warnings? None

Summary: Ever since knowing Colson Baker, you’ve always had an affinity for drawing him

Word Count: 1,245

You sit relaxed, legs extended in front of you with your worn sketchpad propped on your legs. Music plays in the background, your Apple Music playlist displaying random songs. Your hand works mindlessly, sketching lightly over the already messy page and casting a glance up at the sunset you're trying to recreate.

"Baby!" you hear Colson call out as you continue to draw.

Your boyfriend comes bounding into the room, a wide smile spread across his lips. He heads over to you, collapsing into the seat next to you and tilting his head to see what you're drawing. You continue to sketch as Colson slides an arm around your waist and you lean into his touch.

"Whatcha drawing?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Sunset,” you murmur and he hums in response.

You had been drawing practically your entire life. You had started young, doodling along the sides of notebooks during class, drawing on the back of tests and all over binders. It became a habit to make everything personalized with a touch of your drawing.

Over time your skills improved and you continued to draw and eventually paint as you fell in love with the art. You drew and painted anything before you, loving putting your own spin on anything.

When you moved to Los Angeles, your inspiration only grew. You and your best friend had planned for years to move out of your small town to the city of angels ever since your obsession with movies started. You both wanted to see where it's all created and add to the magic. Your best friend wanted to be an actress while you wanted to display your art.

One day you had been sitting at Starbucks with your best friend, zoning slightly as she talked excitedly about her new project for what seemed like the millionth time. As you look out at the people around you, a boy catches your eye.

He's waiting in line, phone in right hand while his left arm wraps around himself. Your eyes trail over his features a sharp jawline accompanies sharp blue eyes, and a tiny double x tattoo decorates just below his ear.

You instinctively pull a napkin towards you, grabbing the pen you keep in your hair you begin to sketch the boy. Memorizing each detail your hand works faster than your eyes trail and before you know it, a rough sketch of the blonde decorates the Starbucks napkin.

“Who is that?” your best friend asks, her eyes trained on the napkin.

“Oh, uh-“ you begin but your best friend is already looking around the small shop.

She spots the boy still waiting in line, and a devious smile forms upon her lips. She grabs your pen from the table starting to write something on the napkin but hiding it from your eyes.

“I'll be back,” she says, shooting you a wink before grabbing the napkin and getting up.

You watch as she marches straight up to the boy and begins talking to him. You're horrified as she hands him the napkin, and gestures back to you. He glances back to you, a smile ghosting his lips as he looks at you before turning back to your best friend. They exchange a few words before she heads back over to you.

"What did you do?” you ask when she sits back down.

"Gave him your number," she says with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You're fucking crazy."

“And you’re talented. Can we go?”

Shortly after you leave, a text pops up on your phone and you stop in your tracks. Your best friend gives you a curious look and you smile widely as you read the text.

“A little creepy, but flattering nonetheless thanks for the portrait,” it reads and you’re flushed from head to toe at this point.

“Does someone have a crush already?” your best friend jokes.

“Shut it.”

That was how you met your boyfriend Colson Baker. You had always had an affinity for sketching strangers, you loved catching their natural gaze and stature. It was authentic and beautiful and something you liked to keep for your sketchbook.

However, you had never given any of your sketches to the people you drew. You were beyond grateful for your best friend stepping in that day. Ever since, you and Colson were inseparable and later fell for each other.

Two years later, you hadn't stopped drawing Colson. Falling head over heels for the man of your dreams only made you more enchanted by him. You swore you found a new detail to love and engrave in your sketches every time you looked at the love of your life.

From studio sketches, to dinners out, to random late nights together, you had what felt like hundreds of sketches of Col in your notebook. It became second nature to you, and you were surprised that Colson didn’t know that you always ended up sketching him.

Colson leans his head on your shoulder as you continue to sketch. His hand rests on your thigh, tracing patterns against the exposed skin. You're distracted as he moves his hand farther up and you stop drawing altogether.

"Colson,” you whine and the older boy smiles mischievously.

He pulls your sketchbook from your hands and tosses it onto the coffee table forgotten for the moment. His hand slides up to your cheek and he pulls you in with ease as your lips meet his. You turn to meet him and his arm circles your waist pulling you into him.

You end up in his lap, legs swung over his as you sink into his touch. You're flush against each other as his hand travels from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. As you let go for air, you're smiling at Col and he leans his forehead on yours.

“What’s that?” Colson asks and you sit up straighter giving him a confused look.

His eyes trail to your sketchbook that ended up on a page that you sketched Colson on. It was your favorite sketch of your boyfriend you had ever drawn. He was hunched over the soundboard scribbling notes and lyrics most likely for the new album.

Colson picks up the drawing with care, and you watch as his eyes trail over it. A smile breaks wide over his lips and you grow nervous as he continues to scan the sketch.

“You drew this?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Uhm yeah, when you were writing bloody valentine I think.”

“Baby you make me look good,” he says and you laugh lightly.

“Darling, that's what you always look like to me. No one else catches my eye like you do.”

Colson looks up at you with the most endearing look in his eye that almost makes you cry. You recognize the look in his eye, it's the same one you have when drawing him. It radiates love and the most adoring energy.

“Have you been drawing me ever since we met?” he asks, now flipping through the rest of your sketchbook, a gleam in his eye.

“Pretty much yeah,” you admit and Colson smiles again.

“Well I’ve been writing songs about you since we met so I guess we’re even,” he says and you giggle quietly.

He pulls you in again, dropping your sketchbook once more to wrap his arms completely around you and soak up the love from the two of you.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #kells #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk imagine #kells imagine #imagine #bravebesson

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scfttwice · 3 years

Text

JINA'S SHIPS : TWICE

mina

[ miji, sometimes also known as 2na #3 ]

- jina is super soft for mina

- in contrast to nayeon, mina brings out jina's gentler side

- jina's voice sometimes automatically softens too when she's talking to mina

- plays 'minecraft' together whenever they can

- they've tamed and adopted at least 16 wolves together

- jina gets protective over mina in the game

- “die, creeper! stay away from my mitang!”

- plays other games together too

- absolute rivals in 'kart rider' and 'animal crossing'

- “my island is better than yours” “in your dreams”

- loves visiting each other's islands though

- and hanging out together in the game

- and when they're playing 'among us'? their trust for each other just goes out the window

- also builds lego sets together, sometimes with jeongyeon too

- jina loses her patience really quickly though, so mina has to calm her down

- “i can't find the piece i need! *slams instruction manual on table*” “it's okay, we can do this together”

- jina sometimes speaks in english with mina, to help mina improve her english and keep in touch with her american roots

- when mina is talking but no one can hear her? jina's got her back

- “guys, shut up!! mina has something to say!!”

- jina has tried dancing ballet before, under mina's guidance

- she was quick to realize it wasn't for her and gave up

- another pair who adore sharing physical affection

- when it comes to mina, jina especially loves back-hugging her

- jina definitely bought mina a penguin skin in 'minecraft'

- and mina gave jina her own tim

- a medium-sized one to hug and a small keyring one that jina hangs on her bag

- makes bead bracelets together

- for the other members, and for each other

dahyun

[ dahji, sometimes also known as dubji and dubna ]

- the duality duo

- one minute they're crackheads together

- the next they're sitting together in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company

- jina acts the silliest when she's with dahyun

- around dahyun, jina often doesn't feel the need to hold herself back

- funny faces, exaggerated reactions, dahyun is able to bring it all out of jina

- whether being loud and playful or sentimental and nostalgic, jina is just her complete self with dahyun

- although dahyun always keeps to herself, jina is one of the members she feels most comfortable opening up to

- jina constantly reminds dahyun that she can come to her for anything, after all

- plays piano together

- though a lot of times jina prefers to listen while only dahyun plays

- jina claps loudly and demands an encore when dahyun finishes a song

- dahyun gets shy every time

- likes to go walk in parks together

- aesthetic pictures!!!

- and deep late night talks

- jina is the one who often sneaks into dahyun's room at 1 am to talk

- jina's go-to stargazing buddy

- honestly just love enjoying the simpler things in life together

- learns mandarin together (tzuyu often teaches them)

- jina thinks it's really cute that dahyun tries her best to be multilingual

- dahyun says it's because she wants to be like jina

- jina loves bringing buddy over to the dorms for a visit

- so dahyun can play with him

- he's the only big dog dahyun isn't scared of

- when the girls are going out together, it's often jina who convinces dahyun to join them

- and sometimes, when dahyun really doesn't feel like going, jina would stay behind too, to accompany her

chaeyoung

[ jichae, sometimes also known as jichaeng and jiyoung ]

- art lovers

- jina is far from being an artist, but she loves drawing with chaeyoung

- jina would watch chaeyoung whenever she chooses to sketch in their free time

- and would sometimes try to join in

- chaeyoung often lets jina use her own creativity and artistic style, but she would pitch in pointers if jina asks

- chaeyoung likes doodling on jina's hands and arms, giving her temporary tattoos

- it used to scare fans, making them think jina started getting tattoos too, but after finding out the truth they've grown used to finding random scribbles on jina

- jina helped choose some of chaeyoung's tattoo designs

- a couple were designed by jina herself (with improvements by chaeyoung)

- wants to get matching tattoos together once jina stops being a scaredy cat

- chaeyoung loves reading jina's poetry

- or any random deep thoughts jina thinks of and writes down

- jina had one of chaeyoung's drawings as her phone lock screen for a while

- chaeyoung sometimes does jina's nails for her

- baby beast sisters

- the tiger cub and the wolf pup

- jina literally bites chaeyoung to show affection

- also likes to play-fight/wrestle

- fans say they resemble the cliché lesbian couple

- where chae is the badass grunge type while jina is the soft girly girl

- they love exchanging fashion advice though

- often borrowing each other's clothes to play dress-up

- swaps song recommendations too

- they have somewhat contrasting tastes in music but they still love listening to each other's personal preferences

- loves sharing earphones/airpods

- takes turns choosing the song they're listening to together

- they both have a playlist each of songs the other recommended

tzuyu

[ tzuna, sometimes also known as puppy love duo ]

- basically soulmates

- joined jype on the same day

- were each other's first friends there

- since jina knows basic mandarin, she was able to communicate with tzuyu fairly well

- jina made tzuyu feel more comfortable and helped her adjust to south korea

- have been inseparable ever since

- are called "puppy love duo" because they both love love love dogs

- tzuyu appears to physically melt for jina

- and because they're both the puppies of the group

- and also because they are a popular ship that's seen to have an innocent kind of love for each other, hence the phrase puppy love

- savage maknae? cold? intimidating? nah, not with jina

- even the tiniest hug from jina is enough to make tzuyu smile from ear to ear

- jina often coerces tzuyu to speak more if she's being too quiet

- with jina around tzuyu is never excluded from the conversation, she makes sure of that

- goes to dog cafés together

- buddy is best friends with butter

- butter and kaya are basically their children

- thinking of adopting another dog and raising it in the dorms, together

- can be very playful with each other

- exchanges teases and jokes, and likes to mess around together

- but jina also understands when tzuyu wants to stay quiet for a while

- tzuyu, like sana, is jina's baby

- jina is constantly worrying over tzuyu

- whether she's eaten, if she's too tired, etc.

- jina would sacrifice everything she had in a heartbeat if it's for tzuyu

- always wanting to take care of her

- tzuyu isn't into pda much

- but behind closed doors there's lots of cuddling

- and occasional cheek kisses (mostly tzuyu on the receiving end)

- they honestly just become the most affectionate puppies with each other

- jina is one of the people who call tzuyu 'tzumong', sometimes 'tzumongie' or 'tzumongeu'

- tzuyu calls jina 'nae mong' (my puppy) affectionately, but only when it's just the two of them

part i.

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Photo

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Aftermath

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody

CW: Alcohol/Wine mention, food mention, insinuated swearing Word Count: 5646 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Teen Ships: Moceit, implied Loceit, implied Intruloceit, implied Dukeceit, implied if you squint Prinxiety

To support my writing & get access to exclusive content not posted anywhere else, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

“Well,” Janus started, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Seems like things worked out after all,” Here it comes, he thought, another round of the Blame Game. “Guess I was wrong about everything,” It didn’t matter that they had just come to some sort of understanding; after years of passing the buck between them, Janus was awfully accustomed to Patton saying his input was wrong -- Especially in a situation like this, where evolving circumstances made his advice seem moot.

“You and I both know …” Patton’s soft voice interrupted Janus’ bitterness. The tone caught him off guard, though as far as he knew, the sentence would end in a crushing you’re wrong. It was best not to get his hopes up, but the silence dragged on too long, and Janus’ defenses fell with his racing thoughts. “That’s not true,” Patton finished finally and Janus couldn’t help but to look over at the wistfully pensive expression that accompanied Patton’s admission. Perhaps it was just a sense of victory he felt, but humorlessly, his lips reciprocated.

“Is that--” Janus began only to be comedically interrupted by the vagrant and imaginative impression of Leslie Odom Jr. With a heavy sigh, the specter was dismissed and the sounds of Thomas with his friends began to fill the apartment.

Awkwardly, Janus and Patton stood next to each other. Sidelong, Janus caught Patton’s expression softening as Thomas laughed loudly at something Lee just said.

“Well, even if things did work out,” Janus started again, chin raised like he expected a fight. Patton blinked and turned his head, wearing a curious expression as though he had actually been content standing in silence together. “You should still consider what Logan and I said today.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Patton said like that was a given. The sentence trailed off in an unusual and nervous way that made it feel like he had more to say, but more never came. Janus resigned himself to being content with that. Patton had seen the repercussions of his actions; there was little more he could do now besides press the issue when need be.

“Good,” He paused, nodding slightly. Speaking of Logan, the thought crossed his mind that he should check on him, given how their bargain had gone. “At any rate, I suppose I’ll … see you another time.”

Patton forced a smile, pulling at the fabric of his shirt anxiously. “Yeah! See you around, Jan,” The old nickname slipped out and Patton cleared his throat.

A week later, Patton squeaked an, “Oh,” as he walked into the Light Side kitchen. “Hiya, Janus,” He greeted in a pitchy, nervous voice. A weird feeling blossomed in his stomach and he thought he might be getting sick.

“Hello, Patton,” Janus gave a half-lipped smile as he finally reached into the fridge, having stood here for the better part of an hour.

“Didn’t expect to see you over here,” Patton’s anxiety was evident; just holding the cup he had come to place into the sink was a gamble given how shaky his hands were suddenly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, just peachy,” He responded sweetly, tipping the freshly retrieved carton of milk into his now cold cup of tea. “We were just out of milk you see,” He explained, holding the carton up as evidence before sliding it back into the fridge.

“Oh, okay,” Well, that made sense, as long as Patton didn’t think about it too hard. Brushing his hip against the counter on the far side of the kitchen, Patton placed his cup into the sink and promptly turned back around. “Well if that’s all, I’ll--”

“There was one more thing actually,” Janus interrupted, absentmindedly opening a drawer to borrow a spoon. He turned to face Patton, expression unreadable. “Just while I have you here, of course.”

“S-sure!” Patton stuttered. “What’s on your mind?” He gripped the lip of the counter he leaned against, knuckles soon going white.

“Well I was just wondering,” Janus continued slowly as he stirred his tea unnecessarily. “If you had any, oh I don’t know;” his tongue clicked with a shallow, one shouldered shrug. “Dilemmas, problems, maybe some quandaries of poor Thomas’ that you needed to … bounce ideas around for?”

Patton gulped and quickly shook his head. The lively feeling in his stomach suddenly felt unpleasantly warm. “Nope!” He laughed humorlessly as he pushed himself forward and started to stumble backwards out of the kitchen. “None at all! Thomas has, hah, Thomas has been doing just great lately! No problems here!” The air sweetened and Janus lost his appetite for his overly sugared cup of tea. “If that’s all--”

“Yes, yes, whatever then,” Janus raised the spoon out of his cup and waved it dismissively with a sigh, flicking drops of tea on the floor.

Patton hopped the last two steps out of the kitchen and was hardly down the hall when he heard a new voice. High pitched and nasally, it was unmistakably the Duke’s. Patton’s body froze in fear.

“Janny! What’s taking you so long?” Janny? Patton questioned internally. That’s … actually kind of a cute nickname…

“Remus,” Janus sounded annoyed and surprised. “I told you to wait.”

“I was waiting! For like, a whole hour! How long does it take to get milk?” The frustration in Remus’ voice grew and Patton’s brows furrowed. An hour? Janus was … in their kitchen for an hour?

“However long it takes,” Janus mumbled and Patton got the sense he wasn’t talking about getting milk anymore. Suddenly the clattering sound of Janus carelessly tossing his teacup into the sink rang in his ears; until then, Patton didn’t realize how hard he was listening, or how quickly his heart was beating. He squeaked, too loudly, and then the voices in the kitchen stopped as he threw a hand over his mouth.

“Who the fu--” Remus abruptly stopped. Patton’s ears twitched, going red. He could almost make out the sound of a whisper. Fear set adrenaline lose in his blood and he silently sank out.

Later that month, Patton and Roman sat on the couch, watching some show together. Between Roman becoming distracted with the notebook in his lap and Patton dreamily staring out the window, neither of them really knew what was happening on screen; but that much didn’t really matter. Patton enjoyed sitting there, listening to Roman’s scribbles, and Roman enjoyed not being holed up in his room, burning his candle at both ends. It was a pleasant afternoon, for all intents and purposes.

“I’m going to grab a Coke,” Roman said with a stretch, setting his notebook aside. “You want one?”

“Huh?” Patton blinked, “Oh yeah, sure. Thanks!” He said with a typical smile.

The cushions had hardly risen from Roman’s absence before the couch was jostled again. “That was fas--” Patton started before registering who had actually taken Roman’s place. “Oh, J-Janus, hello,” His voice hitched and the television suddenly felt muted.

“Hello, darling,” Janus greeted warmly, an arm over the back of the couch.

“What’s up?” Patton questioned, taking a deep breath. Nerves wracked his stomach familiarly and a warmth made the back of his neck itch. “Everything alright?”

“Splendid, of course, thank you,” Janus charmed and paused. With curiosity, he reached for Roman’s notebook between them.

“Oh, you shouldn--” Patton started but it was too late; Janus had flipped open the cover and started admiring the haphazard yet beautiful doodles on the first page.

“So I was thinking,” Janus began, thumbing to another page. His eyes glazed over the curly cursive writing. Patton glanced anxiously behind Janus; if Roman walked in right now… “Have you noticed anything … off about our dear Thomas lately?”

“Off?” Patton echoed. He tried to think; ever since the reconciliation he had with Lee and Mary-Lee, things had been … better. Patton had been trying to lay off of reacting to things so quickly and he thought he was doing well with it. “N-no, I don’t think anything specific’s been wrong,” He surmised slowly. “Why do you ask?” Had Janus noticed something he didn’t? His stomach tightened uncomfortably now.

“Just wondering is all,” He dismissed with a curt smile. A pause ensued and Patton could hear Roman hum-singing to himself in the kitchen. Janus placed his palm on the couch and stared at Patton from under his lashes after a moment. “Though that brings up an interesting question, don’t you think?” His voice was low and provocative. Patton had to listen closely to hear anything at all, which made him lean towards Janus unconsciously. He felt like a useless fly; did that make Janus something dangerous? Something that’d burn him or swallow him up if he got too close?

“D-does it?” Patton stuttered, trying to keep his voice as quiet as Janus’. Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly following; too paranoid about Roman coming back, too nervous about what Janus was about to say, too flustered from suddenly being this close. Butterflies cut up the inside of his stomach.

“Mhmmmm,” Janus exaggerated, “Tell me,” He batted his eyes and Patton’s cheeks warmed. “Would you even let me know if something was wrong? ... Would you let me help in that case?”

Patton’s mouth opened like he had a response immediately, but no words followed; only a rush of warm air that blew sweetly in Janus’ face. He didn’t have an answer to that question, and thankfully, he wouldn’t need one.

“One Coke for the Marvelous Morality~” Roman sang as he rounded the kitchen corner, two filled glasses in his hands.

Patton blinked and Janus was gone, making him wonder if he had imagined the entire thing. Roman slid the drinks onto the coffee table and plopped heavily back on the couch with a gruff sound. Patton straightened his back as Roman reached for his notebook.

“Hm?” Roman’s brow furrowed, “Did you open this, Pat?” Patton struggled with his words for a second before Roman laughed. “If you wanted to read what I was working on, you could’ve just asked! Here,” Roman flipped through the pages, ignorant to the dumbfounded expression on Patton’s face, “I’ll read this much to you, but prepare yourself; it’s a little rough,” Roman said with grandeur before clearing his throat several times.

If asked, Patton couldn’t recall what Roman had read to him then. Janus’ words kept repeating in his ears until Patton was so dizzy, he felt faint.

The warm month of May shifted impatiently towards the sweltering Flordian heat of June. Even as the sun set, the summer continued to loom with heavy, humid air. Realizing that the apartment showed no signs of cooling off any time soon, Patton went to his room with the intent of changing into something lighter than his usual khakis. His heart stopped and all traces of a coherent thought process came to an abrupt halt, however, as he spotted someone on his bed.

“Oh hello, dear,” Janus purred as though this was a chance meeting. He was lounging back, head resting against Patton’s pillow, one leg crossed over the other. His hat was placed on his stomach, revealing a crooked hairline that seemed to be pushed back by the encroaching scales on the left side of his face; a sight Patton had caught glimpses of by now, but not one he was altogether familiar with.

“J-Janus!” Patton managed through the shock, a hand clutched the fabric of his shirt at his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” He panted, forcing himself to take a gasping, deep breath.

“Apologies,” Janus offered a half smile, but hadn’t yet looked at Patton for more than a glance. Instead, he was focused on flipping through the rectangle shaped memories in his hands. Patton recognized them, once he gathered his senses enough to register the scene fully.

“You ... came to look at those?” Patton assumed, leaning to the side with a raised chin to peer at the one Janus was now staring at. It was an old memory that had begun to go grayscale at the edges. From Patton’s point of view like all of them, it showed Janus; smug at all of ten years old in an oversized hat that fell lopsided on his head. He looked as smart as any actual lawyer might as they won their case. Janus could tell Patton had been smiling when this memory became dear enough to actualize here, in his room.

“In a way,” Janus admitted. Unlike prior conversations, his voice was soft and now he, too, wore a rather endeared smile -- at least for a silent moment, as they both appreciated the memory. Soon he sighed and flipped to the next. The color of this one was vibrant and tinged in an idealistic, soft pink; the color of a schoolboy’s blush. Janus, now perhaps thirteen, reached over with a puzzle piece in hand. It was one of the last few Patton needed to finish the border he had been working on all afternoon. He remembers having begun tearing up, frustrated at not being able to complete something like that. But then Janus walked in. He had simply blinked between Patton’s watery eyes and the pile of pieces, sat down, and began to rifle through them for a moment before locating the one Patton needed. He pressed it into place easily and smiled. It hadn’t been his usual egotistical or knowing smile. It was one that made Patton’s little teenage heart race.

Janus sighed with finality and placed the pile of memories on Patton’s bedside table. As he sat on the edge, he put his hat back on. “Mostly I wanted to see if my own memories lined up,” Janus said as he stood, busying himself with adjusting his clothing. “You’ve been so obstinate lately, I had begun to think we never worked well together.”

Patton’s heart sank and so did his head. “We used to,” He whispered at the floor.

“We did,” Janus said, bittersweetness on his tongue. He shrugged and took slow steps around Patton. “It’s a shame you won’t just let us be like that again,” Janus shrugged a flimsy wrist, sounding mockingly disheartened. “But,” He amended as he reached the door behind Patton. “You’ve had everything handled without me for years now, so,”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed, instantly regretting how loud his voice was. “I have had everything handled! This whole time!” He spun around and Janus’ hand froze on the doorknob. “Without you! and now you’re trying to be around, acting like we can just go back to how it was, assuming that the others will just -- just -- get over it or something,” Patton’s voice gained an exasperated and humored edge despite finding absolutely none of this funny. “Roman nearly had a breakdown at just the idea of trusting you! Virgil can’t be in the same room with you! I just -- I don’t,” Patton’s anger began to fizzle out into despair.

His breathing caught up with him, now heavy and quick. The hand that had been pointing with accusation at Janus’ back fell with the intent of gripping his shoulder, but as though Janus saw that coming, he pulled away.

“I see,” He said, after a silent moment with an unreadable tone. “You have a lot to worry about,” Janus released the door knob. “Don’t let me keep you then,” and as fast as Patton could blink, Janus was gone.

One night, a little over a week later, Patton couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. Supposing he deserved a cookie for his trouble, he wandered into the kitchen, only to find the light already on. He froze and blinked sleepy eyes at the scene; was that … Janus? and Logan? Sitting at the small table by the bookshelf together? Patton gulped and the pair noticed him before he could digest much more.

“Patton,” Logan greeted curtly, sitting up as he seemed to notice how far over he had been leaning. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”

“Well I could say the same thing to you!” Patton joked, but his tone was off. The three sat in awkward silence and Janus busied himself with retrieving the nearly empty bottle of wine from the floor between them. “Wh--What are you guys up to?” Patton asked conversationally, pressing his knuckles together nervously.

Janus and Logan exchanged a look and Patton’s face became feverish. He had never felt so terribly out of place before. He shifted on his feet, realizing how uncomfortable his skin was.

“Well if you must know,” Janus answered, refilling Logan’s glass before meeting Patton’s eyes. His gaze was lidded, knowing, and it set Patton on fire. “We’re trying to find a solution to a problem you insist doesn’t exist.”

“Oh now, that can’t be true!” Patton objected eagerly, taking a half step forward only to receive a dubious expression from Logan.

“And why’s that?” Janus asked as he refilled his own glass. “Because you know everything?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm and wine. Janus could feel Logan’s gaze on him now; curious, wondering how he had gone from laughing demurely at something one moment to passive aggressively reproaching Patton the next. Janus wondered in turn what Logan would think of him for his words, but figured the judgement wouldn’t be too harsh. Patton annoyed them both most of the time. “Or because you think we’re too inept to solve anything for Thomas?”

Patton’s hands shook as they anxiously balled fists in the fabric of his shirt. Why would Janus say something so mean? His stomach twisted into intricate knots. Is that how Janus thought he felt? Did he really think Patton thought he was inept? His eyes stung as he stared at the ground. He couldn’t cry here, that’d just add more shame to this horrific, nightmarish moment.

“N-neither, really,” Patton whispered, not trusting his voice to be any louder.

“Why then?” Janus pressed insistently, staring Patton down with hands folded atop the haphazard papers. Logan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This felt like a grotesque mockery of their court scenario the other day...

Patton sniffled quietly, trying to keep from snotting all over himself. “I didn’t realize anything was wrong…” His voice pitched and broke with the effort he extended to keep from sobbing on the spot. How awful it was, to be misinterpreted this gravely, to not have the words to explain himself, to think Janus hated him for not knowing how to ask for forgiveness.

Janus swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to roll his eyes. “Well that’s your mistake then,” He mumbled, sitting back in his chair. As he reached for his freshly poured glass of wine, Logan hesitantly pressed feather-light fingers against his sleeve.

“I think that’s enough,” Logan whispered without much tact before looking back at Patton. “We were almost finished here. The kitchen is all yours in a few moments,” Janus scornfully met his serious gaze and soon clicked his tongue. This time, his eye roll was genuine.

“Yeah sure,” Janus snarked to no one in particular as he stood. “Let’s leave it all to Patton. As usual.”

“Thank you all for joining us today,” Logan began professionally, briskly meeting everyone’s eyes.

“Yes, thank you all so much for taking the time out of your very busy schedules,” Janus snarked in good humor from his position next to Logan; an easel with a balanced poster board stood between them. The information on the board was utilitarian in design; flat colors with thick black lines. Altogether, it was very easy to read and especially clear that Janus, with all his dramatic flair, didn’t have a single hand involved in the writing of it.

“Sure thing,” Patton interjected from his usual spot near the sliding glass door. He raised a finger like one would raise their hand in class. “But uh, I’m a little confused. What’s this all about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Patton,” Logan began, immediately getting cut off by Virgil, who had shoved himself in the very corner of the stairway.

“This is a waste of time, why am I here? I have nothing to do with stuff like this,” he gestured at the poster board, clearly not actually reading anything written there.

“You’re here so we can get your input,” Logan gestured between Patton, Roman, and Remus, who seemed to be fidgeting with some wires behind the television, “Along with everyone else’s.”

“I say let him go if he wants to,” Janus mumbled cynically, adjusting his capelet. “He’s not at all capable of providing helpful feedback.”

“You mean I don’t feed your ego,” Virgil replied bitterly with a scowl. His mouth opened to continue but no sound was produced as Logan met his eyes expectantly. Virgil sighed and shifted stubbornly against the wall. “But fine. If Logan has something to say, I guess I’ll listen. For a bit.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said, offering a small smile.

At some point during Virgil and Janus’ bickering, the twins began to argue. The quarrel increased in volume and Janus cleared his throat.

“Darling?” Janus called, brows and chin raised. Remus’ head poked up from behind the television; black, blue, and red wires were between his lips like thick spaghetti noodles. Roman crossed his arms with a loud huff and a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Care to clue me in on what’s going on over there?”

Using his tongue, Remus maneuvered the wires to the right side of his mouth. “Roboat thinks he can stop me from eating these wires,” He explained with his mouth full. Janus scrunched his nose delicately and shook his head.

“Leave their wires alone, dear,” Remus deflated and opened his lips, letting the spit-soaked things fall out and back onto the floor. Patton went visibly queasy at the display, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously.

“Okay,” Remus pouted exaggeratedly.

Janus turned and smiled pleasantly at Logan, who adjusted his glasses with a hint of exasperation, though both Janus and Remus knew the irritation was only ever meant with fondness for the Duke.

“If we’re ready to begin,” Logan started and everyone fell begrudgingly silent. “For several weeks now, Janus and I hav--”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil interrupted, sitting up again and waving his hands hastily. “You and Deceit have been talking for weeks now?” Patton chewed his lip and tried to look at anything but the inevitable fight currently breaking out.

“Hey, yeah!” Roman agreed, pointing in Logan and Janus’ direction. Anger creased his expression. “I haven’t even seen that Sneaking Snob around here at all! Wouldn’t we have noticed if he was stalking around here like some B movie villain?”

“Maybe you would have if you were more perceptive,” Janus mumbled to himself, looking busily down at his gloved hand as though to inspect his nails. Remus snickered and whispered an oooo, like Roman had just gotten called to the principal's office.

“I’m plenty perceptive, thank you, Boa Bitch-stricter,” Roman dropped his arm heatedly.

The bickering continued for several more minutes, insults flying towards Janus from both Virgil and Roman. He took them in stride, giving his own snide and sarcastic comments back that only served to fuel both of their tempers. Patton’s nerves grew with each passing second; he shifted on his feet, pushed his knuckles together, debated sinking out silently but figured he’d better not cause more tension than there already was. Eventually, Logan spoke up above the roar.

“If you would all just listen,” He said, managing to gain everyone’s attention. “I promise we’ll be through in just a few minutes,” Everyone mumbled a respective, incoherent comment each as they shuffled and settled back to their original positions. Remus gave a cheer in support of Logan, which was followed by a whispered curse and apology as the latter gave a pointedly serious look.

To a silent and mostly attentive room, Logan explained what he and Janus had been discussing and planning for the last two months. Thomas’ financial situation, they all agreed, wasn’t spectacular. To that end, Logan had asked the newly accepted Janus if he had any ideas or solutions. Despite Janus’ surprise at being asked for input (and being considered ‘accepted’ at this point), he offered to go over the issue in detail with Logan; something none of the others had done to date. Over late nights of tasteful wine and the occasional dinner beforehand, they had crunched numbers, mapped solutions, and thought up lists of pros and cons to a multitude of different fixes.

Hearing this, gears clicked into place for Patton; the time he had stumbled on them late at night made a lot more sense now. Though even with the explanation, Patton’s stomach continued to knot painfully. He would really rather not recall that moment. It was filled with such shame and guilt and suspicion, he almost refused to believe it had even happened.

“And so after all that,” Logan approached the end of his explanation, “We settled on a very reliable and doable solution; Thomas and his team should, by all means, open up a Patreon.”

The audience’s eyes went wide as they stared at each other. The fact that the numbers had gone over their heads was clear on their faces, but the conclusion was easy enough to understand.

“So wait,” Virgil said, sitting up slowly, “Basically, what you’re saying is, we should ask the viewers for money, for something Thomas already gives them for free?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t provide them with a little something extra every now and again,” Janus chimed in with a flourish of his fingers and an enigmatic grin. “The amount of things Thomas keeps hidden...phew, let me tell you,” His brows raised dramatically.

“You’re considering airing out his dirty laundry? For money?” Roman interjected, tone fantastically offended. “Preposterous! Who do you think you are, treating Thomas’ classified secrets like they’re some measly prince being sold for ransom!”

“Like that isn’t what our series is already based on?” Janus asked skeptically. Roman fell silent after a few sputtered and disjointed, rather useless words. “The point is,” Janus continued after a moment, meeting everyone’s eyes seriously now. “Thomas can’t afford to keep making videos if we don’t do something. I know you’re all against me, but you could at least extend the courtesy of considering it for Logan.”

Again the room became hushed, but only for a moment before Remus decided to speak up.

“It’s a great idea. Lolo! But I think he could make even more money if he did an OnlyFans!” Remus said too loudly for the room’s atmosphere. Patton flinched and grimaced distastefully, beginning to regret not making a bigger fuss about letting the Duke attend this meeting.

“No one asked you,” Roman snarked, turning slightly to glare at his brother.

“Actually,” Logan interrupted, “We did ask him, all of you,” He gestured with an open palm. “We’re asking you to consider it, as Janus said. No big decision needs to be made right now, even if I don’t quite understand what the hold up could possibly be,” Logan glanced at Janus with a hint of aggravation, “But something bad will happen if we don’t do something.”

“Alright,” Patton said quietly, nodding. “I think we get it, so,” He looked sheepishly around the room; Roman and Virgil had perked up significantly at Patton’s words. They both clearly waited with expectant expressions for Morlaity’s opinion. The twisting in his stomach grew uncomfortably hot. “So,” He repeated before drawing in a breath through his teeth, “Why don’t we all take the night and think about it. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow after … after we’ve all had a little while to think.”

“Very well,” Logan responded immediately, almost cheerfully -- at least cheerfully for Logan’s standards. “That’s quite alright with me, though please try to be quick about it.”

Janus’ brow pinched subtly as he stared at Patton for a moment too long. Logan had called his name twice before the third reached him through his thoughts.

“Janus?”

“Oh, yes,” He cleared his throat and nodded shallowly a few times, “By all means, do drag this out.”

Logan nodded, agreeing with the true intent of Janus’ sarcastic comment as he removed the poster board from the easel. As he collapsed the set up, Patton sunk out silently; the twins began fighting again and Virgil had somehow gotten pulled into their bickering. “That went well,” Logan summarized quietly to Janus, who was still staring distractedly at the space Patton usually occupied. “You were right unfortunately,” Logan paused, waiting for Janus to respond, only continuing when he realized no immediate retort was coming. “About them needing time to think about it?”

“Huh? Oh, yes,” Janus mumbled. Logan frowned; did it not go over as well as he thought? “You have all this handled, correct?” Janus gestured vaguely at the room, taking steps away.

“I suppose…?” Logan answered slowly. He started to say something else, but Janus had already disappeared.

Janus knocked on Patton’s door three times, the sound muffled by his gloves. From his bed, Patton flinched and instinctually squeezed the pillow in his lap tighter.

“B-be right there!” Patton called out, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. He inhaled a ragged breath and scrubbed at his face with dry hands. Please let it be Roman, please let it be Roman, please let i--

“H-hey Janus,” Patton greeted, swallowing his disappointment as he opened the door.

“Hello, dear,” Janus’ voice matched the serious tone he had used in his closing statement at the meeting just a few minutes ago, though the edges of it were softened. Patton thought his brow was creased and wondered what he was worrying about. “How are you?” He asked, and Patton had a hard time believing the question was genuine.

“Oh, I’m fine!” Patton said and Janus’ mouth watered. “Was just getting ready for bed,” he gestured behind him with a thumb and hoped that was enough to deter Janus from any kind of conversation. “S-so if you really don’t mind,” He continued, taking a half step back and starting to close the door slowly. “I sure am wiped from that meeting,” Patton forced a yawn.

“I know you’re lying,” Janus said pointedly, tone deliberate and unamused as he reached a hand to stop the door in its tracks.

Patton frowned, almost pouting as he stared at the floor. Janus’ eyes were too severe just then, and meeting them made his chest hurt. The silence dragged on as Patton found himself in an impossible situation; Janus knew he wasn’t okay, but that didn’t imply he was concerned enough to hear what was on his mind. Even if Janus did want to know, Patton wasn’t sure he could manage to sound coherent. To make matters worse, if all that weren’t true and he did get his feelings across to Janus, they felt silly and inconsequential in the face of Logan and Janus’ idea. They spoke so surely, so convincingly, and all Patton had was … feelings.

“Patton,” Janus said softly, letting his hand fall from the door, “How are you?” He asked again, sounding more insistent.

“I’m,” Patton started to repeat himself again but looked up to see Janus’ face. He wore such a distressed expression, Patton almost wanted to ask if he was okay. “I’m,” He began again, voice shaking as he clutched his shirt. “I’m scared,” Patton admitted in a whisper after a long pause.

Janus’ posture relaxed with a quiet sigh. He remained silent, knowing Patton well enough to predict that he would continue of his own accord now that the dam was open.

“I’m scared that I’m doing the wrong thing, but I’m … I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I’m scared that the others will hate me if I … If I,” Patton swallowed, “If I start letting you help again. B-but I’m also scared that,” His voice quickened, gaining speed like a rushing torrent of unstoppable water. “If I don’t let you help, I’ll just keep hurting Thomas. I’m scared that Virgil will lose himself again and leave us, I’m scared that Roman won’t be able to help Thomas if--if Remus is around, I’m terrified that Remus will hurt Thomas, and,” Patton inhaled a ragged breath. When he continued, his voice was a slow whisper again. “I’m scared of you, of--of not knowing how much selfishness is just right. I know you don’t want to hurt Thomas, I do, but …” He looked up with teary eyes finally, meeting Janus’ patient gaze. “But what if we get it wrong?”

“Then we’ll fix it and get it right together,” Janus replied instantly, like he knew exactly where Patton’s words were going to end up. “Like we always have,” He affirmed calmly, his tone and expression implying that, while this conclusion was obvious, Janus didn’t mind saying it as often Patton needed to hear it.

Patton gasped and the tears in his eyes fell. Hastily he reached up to brush them away with mumbled apologies. Janus rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastically impatient, “Come here,” as he reached to hug Patton with both arms.

“Just because you’ve done it alone all this time doesn’t mean you should continue to, darling,” he said as Patton gripped the front of Janus’ shirt, letting himself be selfishly consoled, for just a second he told himself. “You can rely on me, that’s all I’ve been trying to say,” He chastised gently. “The others will get used to it again. Thomas isn’t giving them much of a choice on that one,” His tone gained a humored edge and Patton whined softly. Janus chuckled and gave him a final squeeze before gently pushing him away with hands on his upper arms. “As for everything else,” He continued as Patton sniffled, “We’ll figure it out,” Janus said nonchalantly, with a fond smile.

“Together?” Patton whispered, his voice cracking.

“Together.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two

#moceitappreciationweek #moceit appreciation week #moceit week 2021 #moceit #sanders sides

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byulsgrease · 3 years

Text

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

#using their real predebut photos feels like a disservice lmaoo #girl crush is my fave cf tho :D #requested #💥 anon #mamamoo imagines #gg fic #mamamoo x reader #hwasa x reader #mamamoo fanfic #kpop fic #girl group fic #moonbyul imagines #hwasa imagines #wheein imagines #mamamoo scenarios #soulmate au

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getitinbusan · 3 years

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The Music Room -

Min Yoongi 18+ Smut

Part of the Lost Boys Series

JIN • NAMJOON • YOONGI •

Warnings: 18+ smut, MF sex, MF oral, A playful bite, Swearing.

Words: 3075

Summary: A stand alone series about a misfit friend group of seven boys. These stories are a day in the life snip it of who they are, where they came from and how they love.

The melody drifting up the barren hall floated through the air like it was made for your ears alone.

The poetic rhythm of the keys made you pause, listening enviously at the talent of whomever was playing.

But who was playing? It was 8 am on a Friday, the room should be vacant. Pulling up the music rooms schedule on your phone, you weren't wrong. The first spot of the day was yours for the entire semester.

You knocked lightly. The sound stopped and the bench made it's familiar dragging noise across the concrete floor.

Pulling the heavy windowless wood open by it's cold handle you peeked inside. He scrambled, seemingly embarrassed, shoving his sheet music into his backpack.

"You should be more careful with your notes, don't want to ruin any masterpieces."

"No fear in that," he mumbled. "They're just a bunch of scribbled ideas."

Pulling the zipper shut he slung it over his shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't know this was your time slot."

"It's fine." you tried to smile at him but he kept his eyes down.

"Don't you have the schools app? I can check to see when you're supposed to be here." You tapped the widget, "What's your name?"

"It's fine, I'm actually not on the schedule."

"Oh, why not? You sounded great. If you missed the cutoff you can still be added to a wait list. People drop out all the time."

He looked up and grinned. By God if he wasn't the most beautiful boy you'd ever seen.

"I don't belong here."

"Don't say that. I was listening and you're really talented, you deserve to be here just as much as any of us."

"I don't though." His eyes met yours and you were done for. "I don't go here, I'm not a student."

"Ahh, I guess that's a problem."

"I already said I'm sorry," he got defensive. "I'll just get out of your way."

He started towards the door.

You tugged his backpack. "So is breaking into schools and playing piano a weird hobby of yours?"

You tried to lighten the mood, "you've got a little Phantom of the Opera University edition kink?"

He laughed. "I'm not technically breaking in, I do have a key fob." He held up the school ID. "It's my roommates. And if you want to know about my kinks you're gonna have to get to know me a little better."

You stepped closer and took it from his hand.

"Park Jimin, Performing Arts." Handing it back you eyed him up and down. "So what's your story….."

"My name's Yoongi."

Pulling a chair out from the corner you sat and rummaged through your backpack until you pulled out your breakfast.

"Listen Yoongi, I was just going to sit here. I need logged practice time for course credit."

You peeled your clementine, "So if you want to stay and play, be my guest."

He looked at you unsure, "Why would you do that for me?"

You smiled and shrugged. "I like your face."

Turning red he plopped his knapsack back onto the floor and reclaimed the bench.

You waited until his fingers were just about to land on the keys. "I do have one condition though."

He froze, "Yeah, what's that?"

"You have to take me for coffee later and tell me your story. Agree?"

"I Agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to ask you out anyway."

You probably wouldn't have given up your time but you were intrigued. Park Jimin was an amazing dancer. The curious boy who was here on scholarship was often the subject of conversation in the dining hall. Not only was he good looking but he was a mystery. He hung out with the strangest group of friends, seven misfit boys who were proud to not fit in. In this small University town they stood out as odd, everyone referred to them as The Lost Boys. Yoongi, now being revealed to you as one of them, seemed harmless enough and the opportunity to get to know a piece of them was too good to pass.

Walking and talking up the worn concrete path you made your way through the bustle of pajama clad students trying to get to class.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?"

"Yeah, but I don't care. I'd rather get to know you."

"You should go, I'm not so important that you should lose a day of school over me."

"It's all bullshit anyway Yoongi, it's not going to get me anywhere."

He stopped abruptly, now just outside the small coffee shop. "You sound like a spoiled brat."

You were shocked, who the hell was he to speak to you like that?

"I'd kill to be in your position and you don't even give a shit about just squandering it away."

He pulled the door open and looked at you crossly. "Still want that coffee?"

You stepped in front of him and shot him a dirty look. "I do. You owe me AND because I'm a brat I'm going to order the fanciest thing on the menu. TO GO!"

He silently walked behind you, following to the counter while you placed your ostentatious order. You stood studying him while he asked for an iced Americano. His blond shaggy hair skimmed his chocolate eyes and his sexy lips seemed to always sit in permanent pout. They looked like they'd be nice to kiss.

"You want to stop staring at me and take your expensive drink. You're holding up the line."

You blushed, knocked from your daydream admiration by his deep voice.

You huffed while pulling the chair out, making a show of your annoyance, situating yourself at the corner table.

"I thought you were getting it to go?" he barbed.

"Why would I do that when I can be a pain in your ass a little bit longer? You promised to tell me your story, let's hear it?"

His inhale was deep. Anxiety? Apprehension? A mix of both? His eyes stared at his coffee while his fingers fiddled with the straw. "I want to be a musician."

"Well I figured that much."

"Listen, if you really want to know can you just shut up? This isn't an easy thing for me to talk about, I don't just tell everyone."

"If you don't want to tell me don't"

He cut you off. "But I do want to, for some stupid reason."

"What reason?"

He exhaled with a smirk. "I like your face."

You smiled, "Then please continue."

"I want to be a musician. I write music and lyrics and it's all I've ever wanted my entire life."

He took a sip of coffee. "My parents didn't approve of my choices so I decided to move out on my own and live my life how I wanted."

You nodded in understanding.

"I didn't take into consideration how hard exactly that would be, but I'm a proud man, and there's no going back."

"So what do you do? You're not a student, do you work?"

"Yeah, I deliver food and groceries part time. It doesn't pay much but the basics are covered."

You looked down at your shitty expensive coffee in guilt, maybe you were just a spoiled brat.

"So whenever I'm not working I try to get as much practice and writing in as I can. I use Jimin's fob to get into the music room and that's where I am most nights...all night." he shrugged in omission.

"So no time for a girlfriend?" you felt silly the moment it left your lips.

"I didn't think so." He looked up for the first time since the conversation started. "But," he smiled, "I think given the right person priorities could definitely be changed."

Talking into the afternoon time flew away. Several less expensive coffees later he looked at his phone and frowned. "I've got to go to work."

He stood up and gathered his things. "But I'd love it if we could see each other again."

You stood to go too. "Next Friday 8am? I can let you in with my fob?"

"That sounds really nice." His hand reached out and his fingers brushed across yours as he took the tray from you. "But I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait that long. We're having a party tonight at our place...will you come?"

You sat on the edge of the sofa watching the group around you getting drunk and philosophical. Definitely nothing like a frat party, these guys were a different breed.

His roommates were all handsome in their own way and something about them just set you at ease. No pretensions, no apologies, they were just who they were having fun.

Finally seeing him walk through the door your heart raced when his eye caught yours.

"I'm sorry I'm late, they kept getting orders."

"It's okay. Your roommate..." you pointed to Seokjin. "The one with the really broad shoulders, he kept me entertained with some pretty good jokes."

He scrunched his nose, "really, really sorry."

You pulled a bottle vodka out of your purse and raised your brows. "Are you ready for some fun."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the couch until you were close enough to hear without having to shout.

"I'd like to grab a shower. Do you want to wait in my room for me? I mean...if you're uncomfortable down here by yourself."

It was a no brainer, the sexual tension and chemistry you'd had all day was like a current of electricity running between you.

"Lead the way."

You looked around his room while he was showering. Sure the mattress was on the floor but the bed was made and his clothes were hung neatly in the closet. His dresser was stacked with notebooks that were overflowing with lyrics. Pieces of paper with doodles and random words loosely spilling from between the pages.

Pictures, they must be family, small resemblances in their smiles and it looked like he had a brother.

He had a shelf full of colognes. Picking up the Paco Rabanne he walked in as you were pulling the cap off to sniff it.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to be nosey, I just wanted to know what you smelled like." Idiot, of all the creepy things to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, I'm not hiding anything."

"No," your cheeks flushed when it finally registered that he was half naked in front of you. "I guess you really aren't."

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just forgot to grab my clean clothes before I went in." He opened a drawer to pull out a shirt.

"It doesn't," you blurted embarrassed.

He pulled his hand away from the clothing and raised his brows quizzically, "So you don't want me to get dressed?"

You walked towards him, he was gorgeous. Water droplets still clung to his muscular chest like he couldn't afford the time away from you to fully dry himself.

"I think," you stammered, "That I'd actually prefer if you didn't."

You placed your hand on his bicep and waited for his response.

It didn't come from words, it came from two soft warm lips attaching themselves to yours.

"You're a good good kisser Min Yoongi. Is your mouth that good at everything?"

"You mean like singing?" He teased your lips with his while he popped the button on your jeans.

"No," you giggled.

"Then you must mean biting?" His teeth lightly bit the flesh of your thigh as he kneeled to lower your pants and underwear.

"Nope, that's not what I meant either."

"Oh, I know, you must mean eating?" His warm tongue found your clit and gave it a little flick. "I think I'm pretty good at it."

You ran your fingers through his hair while he looked up at you hungry.

"Prove it," you moaned."

Stepping out of your pants you leaned back against his dresser. Ass resting on the edge he opened your thighs, a low mumble of, "fuck" drifting out of his mouth before he dove in.

His large hands held you open while his silky tongue explored every crevice of your sex sending your senses into a frenzy. Coming up for air every so often he'd moan at the loss of your taste before inhaling and going back in for more. He wasn't methodical, his mouth was unpredictable. One minute his tongue would be deep inside you and the next he'd have his lips around your clit sucking softly.

"Come over here with me."

He led you to the bed, taking off your shirt before guiding you down. Your eyes ran over his body stopping at the bulge under the tightly wrapped terry cloth towel. The wetness in between your legs grew just thinking about getting to see it.

He laid down beside you, holding your face and kissing you while you reached to undo his shroud.

Smiling, he pulled your hand away, "I'm not done with you yet. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

You had to rub your legs together for friction, he was driving you wild. "This morning, when I watched you playing?"

He smiled like he knew.

"All I could think of was how sexy your..." He stopped your words by hooking two fingers into your mouth and rubbing them against your tongue.

"You were thinking about how good these would feel inside you?" He kissed your neck, "You really know what you want huh?"

"Some people even say I'm spoiled."

"Do you always get your way?"

He plunged them inside of you changing your words of, "I hope so," into a long drawn out moan.

Kissing his way down your neck and over your collar bones his mouth lingered on your breasts. Skimming his lips across your nipples he watched as they hardened into excited little buds. A small smile graced his face, he was clearly proud of how he was making your body react.

His long piano fingers played skillfully inside of you while he latched onto your nipple and suckled. Your heart beat loudly like it was part of the parties soundtrack, the music reverberating through the floor as he fingered you. The whole unfolding scene felt like a dream. Dizzy and intoxicated from lust and heavy breathing you didn't want to wake up to a reality other than this one.

A thud outside the door snapped you back, your thighs clamping shut on his hand as you pulled the covers up to hide yourself.

"It's locked, nobody can get in, don't worry." He pulled the sheet back off of you to continue his work.

"Are you sure they can't get in?"

A loud moan rang through the hall and the thuds against the wall gave away the truth.

"I'm sure they have their own agenda."

You flopped back trying to regain the moment while his fingers stroked your walls.

It was distracting at first, people fucking right outside his door. But a few minutes of listening to their pleasure, of hearing their moans and the pleas of harder, you were more turned on than ever.

He watched you unravelling at the pornographic sounds. "You wanna cum when they do?"

"Please..please," you begged in time with the drag of his fingers.

The sounds escalating on both sides of the wall seemed to add fuel to the fires of both immanent orgasms. Just as the stranger in the hall screamed her end, Yoongi pumped and sucked harder until you finished longer and louder than your unknown counterpart. He laughed as he pulled his fingers out of you, the strings of excitement cleaned off with a lurid suck of his own digits.

Your head was still reeling when he pulled his towel off. His thick beautiful cock looked so hard and ripe as he reached in his drawer for a condom.

"Can I put it on you?" You took it from his hand and ripped the package open. Holding it between your fingertips you got closer and ran your tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of pre cum on his freshly washed dick made you ready for more.

Giving him a few deep sucks and pumps you needed him now. He watched while you rolled the thin latex tightly over his twitching thickness and straddled him, wasting no time to begin bouncing on his cock.

Your kisses were messy, hands entwined in his hair, your breasts grazing against his skin with every thrust while you rode him. "Fuck, you feel so good."

His hands gripped your ass squeezing as he moaned underneath you. Orgasm building like a hurricane, the eye of the perfect storm became more imminent with every slide of your pleasure point against his soaked pubic trail.

"Make me cum Yoongi."

He flipped you swiftly onto your back and his hips picked up the pace to the finish line. Thrusting in between your open thighs his cock drove you to convulsively cum, your cunt squeezing his own warm liquid into the condom between you.

He lay with his arms around you in silence. Your head on his chest listening to his heart slowly make it's way back to a normal pace.

"I can't promise you anything more than who I am. I don't have anything to offer you but dreams that may or may not come true."

He stroked your hair as he spoke his truth. "I'm working hard, but I can't guarantee that I'll ever amount to anything more than a delivery boy."

You sat up on your elbow and stared at the man you'd just fallen in love with. "I want to share all of my time with you Yoongi. In fact, I insist you take it. I've heard you play and I believe in you."

You waited until your lips were just about to land on his. "I do have one condition though."

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Yeah, what's that?"

"You've got to promise you'll write me a song. Agree?"

His fingers splayed caressing your back, he couldn't help the huge smile that took over his face when he kissed you.

"I agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to do it anyway."

#Yoongi #Yoongi smut #bts smut #bts #min yoongi #lost boys series #Happy Birthday Yoongi #suga day

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