#and my piano teacher is a bastard

[cherry-pop-elf]

Hoof Race

Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Can be read as platonic

I’m going through ALOT because of a dickwad of a piano teacher. So imma just project and vent here. I love piano, but I don’t love the piano teacher. My own personal Umbridge. Bleck. So it’s gonna be sloppily written, projective, just. I’m going through a lot right now. A lot a lot.

Summary: Your first detention with Umbridge. Needless to say, very traumatizing. At least you have a pair of red heads to comfort you. Along with formed an escape plan to get you out of there. With some help

Warnings: Umbridge, scars, blood, depression, anxiety, stress, crying, trauma, Umbridge being Umbridge. Physical Violence against Reader from Umbridge, Humanism(Racism against other species) Surprise Guest Appearance for the Book Lovers from one of our favorite Divination Teachers

“Where is our little lab rat?” Fred huffed, as he was looking around for you. With George trailing behind. Looking in all the directions that Fred wasn’t looking. You had promised to meet them at Hagrid’s to test out a new product to help with calming animals. Something that was more so a Comission’s for Hagrid than anything else. Would be a nice little treat. Tea, fang, and laughter. Just one problem. Where are you?

“Should have never given Harry that map.” George would grumble, as he was getting worried now. Where were you? You aren’t one to break a promise. Especially to miss out on hanging with Hagrid. Who wants to purposely avoid a cozy evening with him? Especially since the twins had hoards of candy to share. If you missed a treat like that, it has to be beyond your control.

“Checked the dorm, checked Myrtle, checked the Requirement’s, checked the green house-“ The twins would finish each others sentences, as they walked. Trying so hard to think of where you could be. That’s when they stopped infront of the Defense Room Doors. They were open, but the office door was closed. They slowly looked to each other, before bolting inside.

“But Miss Umbridge, it hurts-!” They heard you shout, now that they were pressing their ears to the door. “It’s not suppose to feel good, darling. I should have expected such idiocy from someone who found it wise to speak out of turn-“ Umbridge would huff, as her heels could be heard pacing. A mixture of sharp clicks, and your hiccups.

“Mr. Firenze is not a THING-!” You snapped, only for a sharp smack to echo in the room. Made the twins wince, as you hiccuped again. “That beast is indeed that. Why defend that vile creature, when it even identifies itself as a beast-? Hm? Shouldn’t expect much from an idiotic child like yourself.” She lectured on.

“What do we do?” George whispered to Fred. What could they do? She was still a professor after all. Regardless, they had to do something. Anything. SOMETHING. They had to think fast, before you got even more hurt. Or worse. Expelled.

“Twins-?” A voice called itself, making the duo look over. The familiar blonde hair, and clips of hoof steps, made it clear who it was. Their newest teacher, given Umbridge very literally fired their old one. What a god send, as the twins were able to hatch a plan.

“Please please-“ They made praying hand gestures, as they pointed at her door. Making dramatic movements to try and convey they needed a distraction. Not wanting to get detention next. Never thought detention could be worse than anything Snape could offer.

The echo of another slap was what made the ever calm teacher connect the dots. Oh how he dispised such treatment. It was inhuman. That’s saying something from a man who used to live with trantulas the size of buildings. He would quickly motion for the red heads to quickly go hide under the stairs, before he cleared his throat.

“Mistress Umbridge? I need to speak with you about a matter at hand-!” He called, with a hoof stomp for added volume. The duo was quick to run under the stairs, and narrowly miss her gaze. An ever-plastered fake smile was on her lips, as she would walk down the stairs. A twitch to her eye was given, as she was now forced to speak to the centaur.

"Yes, Firenze? Whatever could you need at this late hour?" She asked, while the twins were quick to rush into the classroom. Left quite a sight. There you were, with bloody hands. To bloody to even make out what scars she had to make your write this time. Along with a firm bruise on your cheek, from her had no less. They were enraged, to put it lightly. This was the last time she would ever do this. That was their promise.

They were quick to your side, as you wrapped your arms around them. Your savior. "She just kept insulting him, and it wasn't right. He's a good teacher-" You would sniffle, as George would use his wand to try and clean your hands. He sneered at the words on your skin. Busy with tending to your immediate wounds, as Fred tried to calm you down and explain the plan.

"WAIT WAIT-I UH-I AM JUST A CENATUR! A WITCH LIKE YOURSELF KNOWS MORE THE I!" Firenze shouted, making the twins realize their time was running out. "Just be quiet, and follow our lead-" Fred just said, and you listened. Typical behavior, after all. They were always scheming, and you were happy to get into any mess they offered.

"Well....You are just a centaur. You aren't modern, or cultured, such as myself. I suppose i can remind you how we properly function here." Umbridge would smugly say, as Firenze tried so hard to not roll his eyes. Was worth it, as he was able to watch you be escorted back under the stairs. That firey red hair hidden away. Just in time, because even his calm soul can only take so much.

"Oh dear, Mar's is infront of Saturn. You know what that means, I better return to my classroom-!” She had no idea what that meant, no one did since it was a big lie. Least it sounded good enough to make her scoff. Feeling as though she wasted her time with him. Regardless, she gave a friendly smile. Now walking back towards her office.

The second her back was turned, the blonde stallion quickly motioned for the three of you to hurry to him. Fred and George basically carried you, as they did. Needing to work fast. Was just yanked around like a doll, but there was no choice. The moment Umbridge had gasped, noticing you were gone, you three were on his back.

“Where did-“ But it was faded, as you three were not having a horse ride of your life. Escaping her, this night. Quite the adrenaline rush. Riding the back of your teacher, as he tried to not trip down the stairs. Least you had Fred and George to comfort you. Holding on to the straps on their teachers body, for his supplies, and comforting you.

“Well clean you up, and make sure that this is the last time she ever hurts anyone.” Fred said, with a firm nod. You never thought the twins could look so angry before. Was scary, but also a morbid reassurance. Given Umbridge’s gaslighting was getting to you. Thinking you were a burden, failure, worthless, just horrible. Didn’t even noticed you were starting to cry. It was all too much. The boys would hold you close, and just hold.

“Dreadful woman. Dreadful dreadful just oh so dreadful-“ Firenze would keep on muttering, as he tried to not break an ankle on those ever moving stairs. Full of much spite as anyone else. Suppose that meant the twins had someone on their side, at least.

“You are gonna crash with us tonight.” Fred said to you, as Firenze took that as advice on where to go. Now heading to the Gryffindor common room. “Think of it as a big sleep over. Chilling in the common room’s living space.” George echoed. Childish, but there is joy in childhood. Had you smile in approval.

“Here, allow me to offer some assistance.” Firenze then spoke, as he rummaged in his bag. Still trotting along, as it was just a hallway roam now.

“This should help with your healing and recovery. Sometimes spells can not solve all problems.” And a small bag was offered to you three. Most likely a herbal of some kind. The kind textures were very reassuring. A reminder you weren’t crazy. That she was in the wrong. Not you. Still, made you tremble in fear.

“Gonna be ok. She’s not gonna hurt you anymore.” Fred reassured, with a kiss to your head. Followed by George hugging you tightly. Just helping ground you, as the centaur finally stopped at the painting. She didn’t even ask for the password. As if she wanted to delay much needed rest.

“Rest, if you can. When you join me for our class, tomorrow, you are permitted to not join. You may just relax, and star gaze. That often times relaxes myself.” Firenze offered, as he laid down at the open wall. Allowing you three to get off. He understood you were a victim, and offered sanctuary where he could.

“Thanks…” You sniffled, as to not be rude. He knows, he knows. He gave you a pat on your head, and a smile, before taking his escort away. Leaving you three with your thoughts. The twins mostly thought of how to make whatever happens to Umbridge look like an accident, while you were still shaking from the ordeal. Murder plots can be for another time. You were first.

Escorted to the common room couch, you were as pampered as you could be. Hands properly wrapped, the herbal deal brewed, helping clean up the blood stains, using their latest invention to help clean up your bruise. Just doing what they could, as you sniffled and hiccuped.

Once done, you were soon lying against Fred. With George semi on top of you. As if some kind of pressure therapy. A means to make sure no one could touch you, or sneak up on you. Was nice. What was nicer was the random fellow classmates who walked around. May it to get something to drink, unable to sleep, what have you.

They took notice of you, could quickly grasp it was Umbridge, and let you have your comfort. May it be making sure you three had a blanket, staying extra quiet to not disturb you, or asking if you needed anything. Just some humanity against the darkness.

The comfort of the twins, the easing calm of the tea, and the sound of the ever lit fireplace. It helped you come back to earth again. Just what you needed. Reassurance that you were the victim. Not the other way around. Just deep breaths of fire, cinnamon, and gun powder.

You’ll be ok. You’ll be ok, and the twins promised.

As if they ever would break a promise.

[cementarybf]

The woods brothers.

" A duet never played ."

(A series of my headcanons for both the brothers except its not in order AT ALL)

• I was originally just gonna copy and paste my docs of them for this I'm ngl..

• Between the two jeff is the youngest, being three years apart from the older.

• Jeff's a bastard child within the woods family, as his mother committed infidelity making him a foreign mixed child in his home environment (his mother being Chinese, his biological father being Hispanic)

• Liu had been more than excited to be a big brother, even if his mother was less than excited. He would cuddle up with her, mostly to whisper to her belly about how excited he was to be a big brother and that he loved his little sibling already.

• jeff is actually trans his dead name being (junjíe俊傑 meaning elite,high standing) a name he actually prided himself on, but when they moved to Ohio (WHICH ACTUALLY IS CANON?? WHY IS HE IN OHIO) he wanted to be more..Americanized, mainly due to the bullying he suffered for keeping a foreign name- teachers struggling to pronounce it made him disgusted so he chose a simpler name one that they couldn't make fun of.

• jeff was never deemed as "normal", growing up he struggled to behave like other children- diagnosed at an early age with [ narcissistic personality disorder ] and [ early stage child apathy ] which stemmed from a series of neglect given from his parents along with the strict religious household.

• due to this liu had taken up the role of raising his younger brother without much issue, due to taking up the parental role his own view on his parents had easily soured over time when he had gotten into multiple arguments with them.

• liu and jeff were pratically attatched at the hip mostly due to jeff seemingly mimicking his brothers behavior as to appear more friendly to his peers which in the end worked, as he was quite liked in his schools.

• liu had originally been the only one in the family to play piano but jeff followed suit easily only for a moment before he took up learning violin instead as he found it be more suiting. A perfect duet they had made.

• they originally had lived in shenzen before moving to Ohio due to their father getting a job relocation out there (hence jeffs sudden urge to fit ih)

• jeff never actually told his parents he was transitioning due to his mother's heavy religious belief, he'd rather let her believe he was being a "tomboy" then tell her.

• jeff and liu had done multiple recitals together once jeff finally got to understand how to perfectly play the piano. However they never did get to finish their duet that they written themselves.

• liu was the only person he told, along with the one he had asked to cut his hair. He hasn't cut his hair nor let anyone else cut his hair since that night due to the fact he doesn't know how to and is more afraid he'd mess it up (we gotta go bald moment).

• liu was NOT sent to a jail when he took the blame for jeff but instead a boarding school for troubled youth where he may or may have not discovered he may have been bisexual.

• after dying and being revived by a mortician [SUSAN] who was all too curious about death, he met [BALAAM (SULLY)] who had used his jiangshi state against him and encouraged him to eat the woman so she could have her soul.

• after trading a part of his soul and entering a contract with [BALAAM(SULLY] his memory is EXTREMELY bad, similar to a goldfish he's constantly forgetting things and doesn't actually remember how he died outside of the autopsy report. He doesn't remember jeff but he knows he had a brother and that he needs to find him. Even in death he still needs to take the role of worrying for him.

• jeff cannot stand hearing classical music or anything with piano, due to it reminding him of liu and how guilty he is.

• jeff once tried to play violin again but due to his nerves being so badly damaged and the face he was missing his finger on one hand he couldn't play it perfectly, it caused him to have a melt down and he in rage he smashed it to pieces.

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

The Good People(@grosutina) have demanded, and here it is!

Some Movie recommendations for all you beautiful bastards out there😘

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Starting off with some italian goodness:

Cinema Paradiso (theatrical cut) - this is THE homage to cinema for me, one of my favourite ever endings, and Ennio Morricone's score is muah!

:::

Il Postino / The Postman (good companion to Cinema Paradiso I think)

:::

Babettes gæstebud /Babette's Feast

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Amadeus (1984) (you know me, of course it's here)

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The Fall (the treatiest of treats for your eyeballs)

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Trois Couleurs / Three Colours Trilogy: Blue, White, Red

:::

Terry Gilliam's Imagination Trilogy:

Time Bandits

Brazil (the 142 minute long version, my friend @dongtopus you might like this one since you were getting into Kafka, it's the closest to a kafkaesque nightmare I've ever seen)

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

:::

La Grande Bellezza / The Great Beauty

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Dangerous Liaisons (recommend the book too it's a great read)

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Triple Feature of Irish Pain and Dark Comedy™ aka The Brendan Gleeson Cinematic Universe: Calvary (2014)

In Bruges

The Banshees of Inisherin

:::

Bonus Irish Pain™:

Hunger

In the Name of the Father

:::

And some Irish light fun to take a breather after those:

Waking Ned / Waking Ned Devine

:::

Some Michael Haneke cuz he's quickly becoming a favourite (warning: messed up and heavy content alert with this lad):

Funny Games (he directed both the 1997 og and the 2007 american remake, I've only seen the 97 one but I hear you're good with either, with the 2007 remake actually being closer to Haneke's vision)

La Pianiste / The Piano Teacher

Das weiße Band / The White Ribbon

:::

A Field In England (a recent fave, 12 days of shooting, 2 fields, clever editing and sound design gave birth to the best wizard battle put to film)

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El Laberinto del Fauno / Pan's Labyrinth (it isn't as talked about as other Guillermo del Toro films but it's still my favourite of his)

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The Seventh Seal (reminder to self to watch more Bergman, this is the only one of his I've watched shame on me)

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Some Van Gogh goodness:

Loving Vincent (fuck it 2 pics for this one cuz I can't choose)

At Eternity's Gate

:::

Some Claymation and stop motion goodness:

The Adventures of Mark Twain

Anomalisa

To be Continued...

[swamphelminth]

Okay, I decided to post my HCs about Chuck. Let's go!

His first education is organist (at early years he worked in the church), conductor is second;

His favorite music composition is Pacific 231 by Arthur Honegger. That's exactly what they played at his fateful concert; 2.1 This is a cruel joke of fate, because he didn't want to perform at this concert. He was going through a creative crisis and this concert was supposed to be his last; 2.2 It almost became really his last concert. Chuck became disabled as a result of a shooting, where a bullet hit the lumbar region and led to complete paralysis of his legs; 2.3 Chuck was standing on a special ledge so that the musicians could see him. When he was shot, the musicians scattered, leaving their instruments. This momentary chaos of sounds was firmly etched into Chuck's memory and literally left him in this world. In the hospital, he sat for several days with his fingers definitely moving, as if on a piano, playing the tune he had heard. He hardly talked or slept, because he was afraid to forget, and only after a while did he dare and asked for paper and a pen; 2.4 He got to the ghost station under an impulsive decision. When he was fired, he gave up and decided to radically change his environment by getting a job at Starr Park;

The Ghost Station is a mystical abnormal zone. Chuck feels it so close, he really can hear GS and catch it's mood. It's like a big invisible matter;

He didn't die. The Ghost Station as a living matter accepted Chuck and gave him some ghostly abilities like lighting eyes, a terrible distortion of body (a terrible distortion of your body (from someone else's point of view), foaming at the mouth, train control with music and etc.

How did he end up in Colt and Shelly's jail? He came there himself. Let's face it, the topic of crime belongs to a dark category, and this is what our maestro needs. He wanted to "rent" one of the detention cells for work, but our buddies decided to give him the cell in which the most inveterate bastards were, so that the atmosphere would feel "better". And Chuck was grateful for the opportunity!

Chuck is very tenacious and hardy to physical injury. He has excellent muscle memory, well-developed intuition and observation skills;

Chuck has had tinnitus since childhood, he has never heard silence. 7.1 Chuck is a sound-sensitive person. He takes the train horns, the sound of an announcement and just a call calmly. But if it's a loud alarm sound (for example, a car) this causes Chuck to have an instant feeling of anger, irritation and anxiety. It feels like his brain is being torn apart, he almost screams from it;

He was greatly influenced by Italian horror films, in which the atmosphere is inflated by illusions, hallucinations and as if another reality. He likes gothic theme, an avant-garde and industrial; 8.1 And with ghostly ability Chuck can add these things in his music. He can hypnotize his listeners, put them in a trance and make them feel something that is almost impossible to feel (for example, the presence of another organ in the body);

Chuck was once a teacher at the conservatory. He loves children and is very forgiving towards them. Chuck always has candy in case Gus comes alone or with friends to visit him;

Speaking of Gus. They quickly developed a good relationship. Gus has been at the Station for a long time, but he is still scared by some of the sounds that come from the tunnels. He is prone to panic, and if Chuck is around, Gus will immediately go to him to feel safe;

Chuck is smoker; 11.1 But he never smokes if there are children around. Chuck wants to set a good example;

Calm to the sweet. Bitter chocolate and strong espresso are forever in the heart;

His deeply loved genre of music is a symphonic metal. This is a combination of his two most cherished destinations. He rarely listens to it, so that when he turns it on, he can feel the full force and juiciness of the sound. As a reward for himself.

His heart is given to little creatures. He loves rodents, arthropods, reptiles;

He has a bad sleep and eating schedule. He is too fixated on work and music that he'll eventually be able to sleep when his body says, "Bye!";

Chuck has two wheelchairs. One is casual, the second (which is stylized as a train) is for brawl;

He is very nervous about heights;

The Ghost Station is home to large bats, which often interfere with work. Chuck, like the other workers, has a whistle to scare them away;

Chuck can cook BUT! he also likes to listen to the radio in his room. And if at this moment he is listening to rock or symphonic music, then there is a high probability that he will be distracted by gesticulating and as a result his breakfast will burn;

It's really better not to distract him from his work, if you don't want to hear Italian swearing in your address or get a conductor's baton in your eye. Chuck is prone to short-term outbursts of anger and can't always control his actions; 20.1 Because of the ghostly abilities, if Chuck is very angry, the light bulbs or lanterns nearby start flashing and even burst; 20.2 He has sensitive shoulders and neck. If he is angry, then you can massage his shoulders and he will become calmer;

Libra. Cyclotimic. Choleric. ENFJ (Protagonist);

Chuck is prone to depression and only an insane involvement in music saves him. He is also prone to feelings of nostalgia;

He loves art, but has mixed feelings if someone starts painting on trains. If it's beautiful and not some stupid tags, he won't interfere. But if he catches someone painting stupid tags, Chuck will immediately contact the station staff and ask them to sort it out;

This may be expected, but his favorite flowers are lilies;

The theme of trains has a spiritual significance for him. He often visits European countries for the sake of education, Chuck certainly was in Germany, England, France, when he became conductor, also visited USSR. Many of his tours were accompanied by the sound of train wheels, and it became his symbol of change, inspiration and hope;

Chuck may be a gloomy man, but he has a very broad soul. How it was in his youth, that in middle age he is still romantic and easily in love with the people around him. He may fall in love not even with a person, but, for example, with eyes, hands, and the color of a blouse. He can think about these details day and night, and it will inspire him to work; 26.1 He likes to talk, but not everyone can stand him. If he is in a great mood, his "Ciao!" may be accompanied by a triple kiss on the cheek;

He has very fluffy hair. Sometimes he can't comb them without pulling out a clump of hair;

Chuck has a deep tenor voice with a hoarseness that can really charm and immerse you in a special atmosphere. His passion for rock music prompted him to practice screaming and growling;

Songs that I strongly associate with Chuck (not counting the compositions that I mentioned earlier): Metallica - The Unnamed feeling; Insane Clown Posse - Halls of Illusions; Will Wood - 2econd-2ight-2eer.

Inferno Chuck is his postmortem form. Inferno is the personification of an absurdly high hypertrophied obsession. Chuck was despaired that he coudn't hear rightful sound. He was very tired and upset so he decided to stop his trying. His ringing in his ear suddenly disappeared and Chuck finally heard REAL silence. It was as if he had caught a trance and nirvana. Chuck's head was empty and soundless. This went on for a while until it suddenly dawned on him. He caught something otherworldly, something that he had been trying to hear all this time. And that was the fatal note. Chuck was burned to death for to be reborn and become an obsessed eternal spirit.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Piano Lessons

"!Businessman Sabo x !Noble!fem Reader. Sabo has to work from empty hands to his rich status. When he was still poor, he worked as a music teacher for the nobles. Sabo always hated the nobles who spend their lives wasting moneys. That is until he was hired to teach reader, who is a noble's daughter, to play the piano. Reader likes him a lots. Sabo learns from reader that not all nobles are rotten, and starts to fall for her. However, he denied his feelings since he hated nobles and ended up part way with her after she mastered the piano. Then, about two years later, Sabo earns the status of a wealthy businessman that can level with a nobleman. He usually thinks of reader and fantasize about their love. One time, at a ball, reader found him and talked to him about her crush on him two years ago. Sabo got worked up but also found out she doesn't like him anymore and regret not confessing two years ago. Sabo then starts his journey to flirt with reader until she falls for him again. Ending is for you to decide. To sum up this is a tsundere/mean Sabo that gradually turns into a lovesick Sabo."

Okay, part 1, lol

Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1620

     Walking into the bright, opulent entryway, Sabo couldn’t help but think that this was one of, many, reasons as to why he hated these people. Large open rooms that served no purpose but to show off how much money they had. Sparkling white marble floors, elegant wooden walls, and the biggest chandelier he’d seen since he was a child. Completely empty save for a few end tables, vases filled with flowers, and statuettes. Pointless. Hearing the telltale clack of expensive heels on the staircase, Sabo held back his exasperated sigh as he looked up. Unsurprisingly, an older woman dressed in luxurious silk stood at the landing at the top of the second flight of stairs, looking down on him as if he were mere dirt beneath her heel. After a moment, she finished descending the stairs, once more looking him over appraisingly.

     “So you’re the boy my husband hired as a piano teacher? Come, I want you to play for me before I entrust my daughter’s lessons to you.” With just those two sentences, Sabo already hated this woman. Judging him on his clothing or what she’d heard from her husband. Skeptical about his skills simply because he wasn’t a rich piano instructor. Maybe he could fool them into thinking he was just ‘so talented that he chose his own students’. It wouldn’t be hard to get a bit more money from them. 

     Following the woman, he wasn’t surprised to see one of the most beautiful grand pianos sitting in the next room. Undoubtedly worth more than all of his and his brother’s possessions combined and multiplied by 10. Looking over the piano, he had to hold back another sigh. A piano made by the world renowned crafter who made all the expensive grand pianos. Rosewood made up all the wooden parts with wood, fine leather on the piano chair, keys that almost certainly contained ivory and ebony, strings made of some high quality steel that he could probably use as a garotte wire to kill these rich bastards. The list of expensive materials went on and to be honest, it annoyed the hell out of him. Even still, he had a job to do and it was paying a lot more than his usual jobs. 

     Sitting in front of the piano, he grabbed one of the hardest songs he had sheet music for, thankful that he’d brought it despite his earlier thoughts about not bringing it. Thankfully he didn’t have to finish playing it before the woman interrupted him, having heard enough.

     “Fine, fine, you can teach our daughter, but I swear, you’d better not even look at her! She’s my precious daughter and I don’t want someone like you getting the idea that you’re even so much as equal to her.” With that, the woman turned on her heel and left, leaving Sabo to seethe. He might have to cut a wire from the piano once he was finished just to annoy the hell out of them. They might not care about the money it would take to replace it, but it would be nice to inconvenience them in any way possible. It was a few minutes before a young woman walked in. Dressed in nice clothing, though it didn’t look like the silk her mother wore, and hair carefully styled by, probably, a maid whose skills could probably rival that of a stylist. 

     Taking a deep breath, he prepared for whatever snotty, entitled attitude she’d give him. Reaching him, she stood beside the bench for a moment.

     “My mother told me you’re my piano instructor. So where should we start?” your voice was more melodious than he’d expected, not tainted with the arrogant privilege of most nobles. It was… startling. Sabo stood up and offered her the seat.

     “We’ll start with the basics, just learning the keys and notes, just the easy things.” he said, pulling out another sheet. It was a ‘my first piano’ book, the first page showing a picture of the keys on the piano and what notes they were as well as a basic line of easy notes. You nodded and looked at the book, listening to the boy closely. Sure enough, he was teaching you some pretty simple things, keeping you to one side of the piano so he wouldn’t overwhelm you while helping you memorize the keys.

     It wasn’t long until he was packing his things up. He hadn’t expected this lesson to take long, not wanting to do too much while you were still working on the keys. Closing this bag, he looked up to see you offering the book you’d been using to him.

     “Keep it for now. I want you to continue practicing the keys between our lessons. You should have a butler or someone who knows the keys and can help make sure you’re doing it right.” Sabo said, watching as you nodded and put the book back.

     “Alright, when is our next lesson?” you asked, giving him a smile. Sabo took a moment to think. Should he wait a while to memorize the keys and practice or should he visit sooner? Would it take you a long time to memorize the right keys and the notes? Maybe you’d barely take any time at all.

     “I’ll come back next week to see how you’re doing. We’ll go from there.” Sabo said after a moment as he stood up from backing his bag. Finally, Sabo looked up at you. He’d mostly been focusing on your hands and the piano keys until now. Not because of what your mother said, but so he could make sure you were doing things right. Now that he had gotten a look at you, he couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you were. You were dressed nicely, but the clothes suited you rather than making you look pompous. Your hair that he’d previously thought was carefully styled was tied back and topped with a simple headband so your hair wouldn’t get in your eyes while you learned how to play. It was all clearly nice and worth quite a bit, but it was simple and more understated than your mother’s clothing. Business casual and simplistic, suitable for a stroll through the nearby park but far too nice for the dark alleyways and ramshackle apartments of where he and his brothers lived. Beautiful eyes looked at him with a gentle, kind, cheerfulness and a light smile graced your lips. Simple and elegantly beautiful. It was enough to make his breath catch in his throat for a moment before remembering that you were a noble just like your parents, just like them. 

     “Then I’ll be sure to practice everyday.” you said, taking the words right out of his mouth.

     Sure enough, he was back the following week, surprised by how quickly you’d memorized many of the keys. It was slow and you made frequent mistakes, but it was more than he’d expected. He’d spent the rest of that day’s lesson teaching you more keys and correcting your mistakes before leaving once more. He had to admit, he found your dedication admirable, he doubted most nobles worked this hard, finding their lessons ‘boring’. Another thing he’d been surprised about was how different you were. You weren’t at all like your parents. dedicated instead of lazy, humble rather than arrogant, accepting instead of judgemental, and so very, very kind. You’d even begun to strike up conversations with him. Nothing involving your lessons, just talking about life or his work. You learned that he was going to college and about his brothers. Likewise, he learned about you. How you enjoyed reading over sitting around gossiping, your dedication to anything that you were interested in or tried, and your desire to do more to help others. You’d even begun to show him that there were a couple of nobles that weren’t too bad. Afterall, you existed.

     Looking up at Sabo, you waited for him to say something. The lessons had been going on for months now, your skills improving rather quickly. To be honest, part of the reason you’d been improving so quickly was because you wanted to impress him. He was handsome, smart, and caring, how could you not develop a crush on the blond? Likewise, he was starting to fall for you and fast. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each lesson, he found you more and more enchanting until he found himself fully dreaming about you. Not just a simple daydream, but invading his unconscious mind and filling his every moment. The kind of people he claimed to hate, the kind of people who pissed him off and one of them had caught his eye. Not that he would ever admit to caring about you. You were only in his dreams because he was impressed by how quickly you were learning. He was only thinking about you because he was wondering how much money he could squeeze out of your parents for teaching you so much. 

     Finally, standing outside your front door, he looked at the lavish house that loomed over him. He’d just finished your final lesson, you’d performed a lovely piece for your parents and they’d been rather pleased with his work, receiving a rather large sum of money for his work. It would be the last time he would see you, after this there would be no reason for you to cross paths again, no reason for you to continue seeing each other. A pang ran through his chest. The two of you wouldn’t see each other again, this was it. Part of him wanted to hurry back in, to say something, but he couldn’t, there was no reason to… right?

[eye-of-yelough]

one person said they were interested so…

The updated Aeryn (my Dark Urge) intro post! This freak 👇

Backstory/Key Points: Bhaal created Aeryn with the idea of a whole new race of pure waterbreathing bhaalspawn (pure because of githyanki asexual reproduction/egg laying) he used githyanki as a sort of “base” for their psionic abilities and rapid aging in their hatchling years. Aeryn is a slightly canon-divergent durge, he was supposed to mother this race who would take over the world, not take it over himself. He was found as an egg in a swamp by a drow scientist/scholar and his human wife, they raised him less out of the goodness of their hearts and more to see if a Githyanki could be normal (on that Society Of Brilliance grind) despite this they were very loving and made sure to drill empathy, humility and morals into him from a young age, to ensure he doesn’t follow in the footsteps of his brutal kin. (they had no idea how right they were, the sorry bastards) He blacked out, killed them and left home at age 10 because they tried to have the piano teacher who groomed him arrested.😬 he was taken in by a Warlock who introduced him to the world of crime, dark magic and hellian shit as he came into his Bhaalspawn self. eventually he became too much for the warlock to handle and he sold him to an entity that would eventually become his own patron. a few years later he was spat back out into Baldurs Gate and that’s when he met Sceleritas and joined the cult, at 21.

He works as a nurse and mercy killer, and clings on to his sanity for dear life by convincing himself he’s an angel who was sent to ease the world’s suffering by ending it, The Mercy Dagger. enter The Iron Fist, who comes along and uhhh basically just fucking breaks that boys brain over the span of 12-13 years. soulmates but make it platonic and a horror story, that’s the aeryn & gortash vibe. They’re two highly delusional people t fanning the flames of each others bullshit, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. One of Gortash’s main weird Things is a very sincere, very dangerous belief that Aeryn, born within a month of him being sold to Raphael, stole his heart that day. Somehow it’s the only way his insane brain can rationalise the fondness he feels for him. He is uhh. very weird about Aeryn’s heart. likes to press down on his pulse at random moments even in public just to make sure His Heart is healthy, and feel it speed up in anticipation. kinda turns him on. they’re really normal about each other i promise.

Extra info: uhh hes hypersexual and deeply genderweird and those things are kind of intertwined in a very fucked up way. he wears masks day to day pre tadpole to hide his githyanki (ish) features because they make him very conspicuous and some people straight up physically recoil at the sight of his face.

here’s my fave screencap of him and a little moodboard (?) of some very aeryn-coded posts 👍

[angel5ofp0rn]

Legit tho like ion let anyone disrespect my husband like Parker may be a butthead but he's MY butthead and it's gonna take a hot sec for him to grow a pair of trousers but he should do that too and not let people throw shade at me 😠🥺

Couple old bitchy coworkers showed up at MY grandma's funeral [they were friends with the aunt], neither liked me AT ALL and the feeling is mutual, but they both ADORE Parker so obviously they gotta scoot me outta the way to talk to him and the boy let them

Man if I wasn't close to tears I was so close to throwing hand with those crusty old bastards. I just left to go talk to my old piano teacher, who was good buddies with gramma, who is also my adopted gramma because bless that little old lady's soul

But C’mon I need the husband man to throw hands for me sometimes 😫

I had a boyfriend in hs that literally beat a dude up for making a face to me at a bonfire and i’ve been chasing that high ever since man 😩 rip to him (and ur granny)

[chaberkowepole]

I was in Warszawa stare miasto (Old Town) yesterday

And maybe it's all those stories, songs and poems that I have been infused with since childhood but damn. I never expected to be hit like that. By a city I have never seen.

Its beauty took my breath away. I hadn't expected it to be so pretty. And at the same time, every step was accompanied by immense grief.

They say pre-war Warsaw was as pretty as Vienna. If you've ever been to Vienna, you know what I'm talking about.

I was constantly wondering, which building is new and which one has survived the bombing. I have never felt the density of sheer history in the air as much as on nowy świat, krakowskie przedmieście and close to the castle. Not even in Rome, which obviously is objectively older and thus fuller with history. But this felt closer to... Home.

Those streets, they look very much like any other European Old Town, they're bustling with life and there's cafés and restaurants on every step.

And yet. After every few steps. There's a sign. Again. And again. And again. The Nazis killed people here. They lined them up and shot them here. And here. And here. And here too. And here.

[Image ID: Memorial Tablet commemorating Germans shooting 30 Poles, some of them randomly, on the street. There are flowers and znicze underneath. End ID]

[Image ID: Two Memorial Tablets, one commemorating Russian Crimes during 19th century partitions in which they destroyed Chopin memorabilia, along with his piano, the other commemorating Gymnasium teachers (secondary education) who continued teaching during WW2 German occupation. End ID]

[Memorial Tablet and flowers in Polish white-red colours, commemorating the wounded people from the Warsaw uprising that got treated in an insurgent hospital. German occupants seized it, shot some of the wounded and poured gasoline over others and burned them alive. End ID.]

And the castle, the king's castle that we raised from ruins. That Germans destroyed entirely. Like they bombed down the entire city. To not leave us anything. Because they wanted to erase our history and subjugate our people.

[Image ID: on the left, picture of the ruined castle 1944. Only rubble is left. On the right, the rebuilt castle. It is red in colour. End ID]

And rage, and grief I didn't know I still had carried shot up in me and I understood now why our resistance were shedding blood for those streets. I could almost feel the bullets flying in the air, like a weird time-echo I faintly picked up on through the layers of the years.

I think the right all too often co-opts this anger, this grief, and twists it to suit their purposes. But this is not a good reason to bury it, either. Buried anger like this breeds resentment. So for the first time, I let myself feel it and I wanted to do things to the Nazis and everyone who collaborated with them that I will not write down here.

But we shouldn't stop here. Instead, we could channel it to something productive. The same thing is happening to our Ukrainian neighbours, right now. How much their hearts must bleed when they see the streets of Kijv destroyed. Or any other Ukrainian city dear to them. It's their work, their efforts, their culture, their history. Their home.

So support Ukraine right now. Support Ukrainian refugees. Support All refugees that are escaping bombardements of their homes. Combat the ideology that leads to this destruction. In your own town, in our country. Support Polish Jewish people, Polish Trans people, Polish Lgbtqia+ people, Polish Disabled people, Polish Muslims. Elections are coming up, vote those right wing bastards out of this beautiful city, that we rebuilt again through sheer willpower.

[Image ID: on the left, the destroyed market square from 1945. There's rubbel lying everywhere, a group of people are standing in front. On the right, the same market square, today, rebuilt. Each house is very colourful and the walls are painted & decorated. A statue of the mermaid, Warsaw's emblem, is standing in the centre. Her arm is raised, holding a sword. Her other hand holds a shield. End ID.]

[gumnut-logic]

The first blow came unexpected.

Virgil was in piano practise, playing a particularly difficult chord and rift combination when the sudden sensation swamped his mind. His fingers stumbled badly and the entire composition collapsed.

“I think you need more practise, Virgil. But that is to be expected. It is a very difficult piece.”

He didn’t answer her, too busy trying to work out exactly what had happened.

His lack of response was enough to shake his teacher’s confidence. “Are you sure you want to attempt this for your final recital? There would be no shame in choosing another piece.”

It was at that point the second blow made him see stars.

What the-?

John.

It was John.

A sharp indrawn breath. He stared at the piano keys as his heart picked up. “Ms Pickett, I need to leave early. I-I have to collect my brother.” He didn’t look up, biting his lip as another blow landed. Echoes of pain emanated through his heart.

His teacher didn’t answer immediately and her disappointment was obvious. “Very well, Virgil. Practise at home and we will try again tomorrow.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Still not looking at her, he grabbed his books and stumbled from the room, almost literally as another blow landed.

His feet hit the asphalt running.

He knew where John was supposed to be, but his senses led him elsewhere, to the far side of the high school grounds, to a shed on the far side of the sports ground.

A place John had zero reason to be.

He had never run so fast in his seventeen years of life.

As he skidded around the corner of the building he tore up dirt.

Three large boys and a huddled red-headed body on the ground.

A foot rose to kick his prone brother and Virgil saw red.

Two hundred pounds of pissed off Tracy barrelled into the lead perpetrator and took him down with one angry fist. A crony made to grab him from behind. Virgil stepped backwards, catching his foot and elbowed him in the face. There was a satisfying crunch of bone.

It also gave him the draw back for the fist that black-eyed the third asshole.

Fingers that had moments before been playing a sonata, throbbed, sporting both his blood and that of others.

“You fuck!”

The lead perp grabbed him around the waist and they both went down, Virgil underneath and in the dirt. A fist landed in his gut and his lungs lost most of his breath.

“Think you can defend the weiner?” The bastard’s breath was hot on his face. Spittle landed on his cheek.

“I don’t think, asshole.” Virgil grit his teeth. “I know.” His knee came up and lowered the man’s chance at parenthood.

His grunt was somewhat satisfying as Virgil threw him off.

The two cronies were clutching at their faces and backing away while their leader rolled around in the dirt.

Virgil drew himself to his full height and snarled at them. “Stay the hell away from my brother.”

Three eyes widened in alarm, staring at Virgil as if he was the devil incarnate.

“What the fuck are you?!”

The voice came from the asshole on the ground. He was scrambling backwards, wincing at the movement, but staring up at Virgil with the same fear in his eyes as his buddies.

A shadow drifted over the man and Virgil realised it was his.

He didn’t need to look to know what had happened. A stretch and he flapped his fully extended midnight black wings. Dust lifted into the air and tossed their hair around. “I am your worst nightmare. If you even look at me or my brother again, you will find out exactly what that means.” He punctuated that with an arch of his pinions, high above his head.

The assholes turned and ran.

The moment they were gone, Virgil folded his wings and with a shrug, let them go, and hurried over to John.

His little brother looked up at him from the dirt with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Virgil.” John’s voice was raspy. At least one of those blows had hit him in the gut.

“Not your fault. How bad?” Virgil inspected his brother with his eyes, senses reaching for whatever information they could provide.

“I’ve had worse.” He pushed himself up, groaning and leaning back against the wooden building.

“Don’t bullshit me, Johnny.”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

Virgil placed a finger under John’s chin and lifted his face gently to inspect it. “What was the reason this time?”

“Not sure.”

“What did I say about the bullshit?” At least one blow to the face, John’s cheek was swelling and the skin was split. Virgil grit his teeth.

“What does it matter? There is always an asshole. Always. The reasons vary, but every damn time there is always one.”

Virgil gently undid the buttons of his brother’s shirt. John put up a protest, but the older brother ignored it.

A bruise was spreading over the right side of John’s ribcage. “This is assault, Johnny. I’m going to press charges.” These guys were going down.

John sighed. It was almost a whimper. “You can’t.”

Virgil’s lips thinned. “It is what should be done.”

“You can’t, you know you can’t.”

John’s shirt was gripped by a pair of bloodied fists. Slim, pale hands, fingernails lined with dirt, rested gently on those fists. “You can’t. We can’t. It would draw too much attention. They’ve seen you, Virgil.”

He grit his teeth and, with difficulty, swallowed his anger. John was more important. A cleared throat. “Anything broken?”

“I don’t think so. Can we just go home?”

“Scott’s going to blow a circuit. You should see a doctor.”

“Scott always blows a circuit. A doctor would ask too many questions.”

Virgil closed his eyes a moment.

“This is never happening again.” It came out with no small amount of pain.

“I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“It is not your fault.” A sigh, and he straightened, standing up, before offering to help John up. “Though we are going to have to think up a story to explain this to Gordy.” And yes, the third member of their little triumvirate was bouncing worriedly at the edge of Virgil’s mind. “He’s too old for vague excuses now.”

“Just tell him the truth. His big brother is a wimp.”

Virgil glared at John. “His big brother is a genius. His big brother has more brains than most of this school combined. His big brother is going to make a difference in this world. His big brother is going to make this world a better place.” He held out his hand. “And no minus IQ point asshole is going to stop him.” Not while Virgil was alive. He may not have his brother’s smarts, but he had other assets.

John reached up and took his hand, gripping it tight. A grunt and Virgil had his brother on his feet. An arm around his shoulders made sure he stayed that way.

“Thanks, Virgil.”

“Anytime, bro, anytime.”

-o-o-o-

[revoleotion]

just remembered last piano lesson where I watched my teacher try to convince a kid to play Für Elise next, and the kid was REALLY not having it ("the sheets look weird", "it's boring", "ehhh do I have to??")

And when the kid stood up to leave, my teacher turned to me, so I said to the kid, "it's a great piece to play, I promise!!"

Because I couldn't say "don't disrespect the lawlicht theme song, you little bastard"

[sleepydane]

5 mutuals and 15 questions! 🥳🥳 I'll tag up here: @amrtiamat​ @preluvz​ @3nigm4art​ @oriopiuwu​ @anyawen​

Were you named after anyone?

No one! I’m so sexy, I named myself >:)

(fr tho if you’re counting only first names, they just happened to like a random name, and then picked my gma’s name for a middle name!)

When was the last time you cried?

No idea! I do not keep track bc if you saw me crying, no u didn’t. Couldn’t have been that long ago though I suppose?

Do you have kids?

Nope. (2022)

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

If depends on if I either like you a lot or if I really dislike you but it’s mostly online talk only. Not so much IRL (well except with family).

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Once again, it depends honestly. Some people’s clothes stand out first, some people’s faces, some people’s personality, I guess it’s just whatever about that person is loudest when I first meet them!

What's your eye color?

Water-logged dirt brown!

Scary movies or happy endings?

Why not both? Happy could just mean cathartic honestly. In the same way that Midsommar (2019) was horror with a truly bad ending but also?? it was a payoff too. It felt right in the worst possible way. It doesn’t need to be happy, it just needs to make sense. I suppose I lean more horror though?

Any special talents?

Art I guess? There is no talent I have that I haven’t spent about 500 yrs cultivating lol. I play piano too but very poorly and I no longer remember how to read sheet music on the fly but the few songs I know by heart? Yeah I like to think I’m decent at them.

Where were you born?

rural west babieee.

What are your hobbies?

Art, uhmm piano sometimes, bookbinding (and by default editing to fit the format I use), cooking when I’m feeling alright, reading, and watching my silly little shows with my crew!

Have any pets?

Yes, my little bastard cat!

What sports do you play/have you played?

Used to do children’s ballet, rode horses for a bit, and also played soccer for a season (I was absolutely horrible at it to the point my couch had nothing to say about me at the end of the season party lol).

How tall are you?

yes :3c

Favorite subject in high school?

Alternated between English and History buuuut I was always the history teacher’s favorite little meow meow and it definitely captivated me more !

Dream job?

Eat hot chip and lie.

(I don’t know, at this point I just want to go to a job that I know what I’m doing and can hopefully do meaningful work? I would like to pay the bills and not have to lean on anyone financially though, that’s my basic goal)

@hetakiba​ Thank you for the tag and also HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DUDE!!!!! 🎂 🎂 🎂

[augment-techs]

Ok here’s another one that’s been bugging me for a while so I’m gonna transfer the worm yo you:

“I wish you’d write a fic where Billy wants to learn to lay the piano and he gets Skull to teach him… ✨sparks fly✨ and also Skull realises Billy has a lovely voice and they do duets together now”

“Well,” Billy scuffed his toe down to the ground, half shy boy before a teacher he’d never had before in his entire life—too small and too smart for his own good—and part baby animal finding its feet in front of what might be a good friend or a predator, “I’m missing out on additions, secondary lessons that would allow my future to secure itself outside of high school. So, Miss Appleby suggested you?” “Liar.” Billy flinched, looking up from his foot to find Skull with his arms crossed, jacket still hung up on the rack to keep the length out of the way of the ivory and pitch keys of the majestic looking piano that Billy happened to know for a fact the school would not have been able to keep up the payments for if Skull himself didn’t maintain it with those long fingers, those careful eyes, the tools of the trade he’d gotten from Grid only knew where. His frame was still wiry, still pale, but Billy could appreciate that he did, in fact, carry a little bit more muscle than he did sixteen months ago. Nothing like running from Putties and Kaiju and curses to build up the heavy mass. (A little part of Billy’s brain was curious about how that was working out for Skull’s sylphlike legs, but he also knew he’d never find out, given that the young man hadn’t worn shorts in public since before his voice dropped.) He swiveled his eyes from hairless arms up to mercury eyes, eyebrows up and the lips that were thin with the serious aura he was giving off. Right. Eugene didn’t take bullshit about piano matters. Fibbing really wouldn’t work here. (--But he’d have to try.) Billy straightened his back with a cough and scratched the fluff at the back of his head, “I’m sure I don’t know how you’d come to that conclusion.” Skull leaned forward, hands to his knees—really subtle, but still a hit against Billy’s being a head shorter since Skull’s latest growth spurt (if he kept growing until he was twenty-one, Billy swore he’d walk into the ocean; this wasn’t fair)—until they were almost nose tip to nose tip. And he smirked that self-assured “I’ve got all the cards so don’t even bother” smirk that Billy very much was thankful did not make him look like his (rat bastard son of a bitch) father or (evil, self-serving, hellspawn) mother, but made him look more and more like the man he was going to be. If only he looked this assured in real life instead of in a room that at present felt closed off from the rest of reality as Skull prodded with amusement, “There is nothing in all the world that would keep teachers from this town from passing you onwards into the future with full honors and the deed to their souls if you asked. Even with you running around for the Youth Center and Promethea and whatever else it is that calls you out of class, you’re still head of the class—except English, because you’re more for numbers than language and literature—“ “How would you know that?” “I know lots of things; don’t interrupt,” Skull hummed, spinning on his heel to saunter back over to the piano’s bench, pulling it out and taking a seat with a cross of his legs and his hands folded at the knee, “You will pass regardless of extra-curricular classes or activities. I’m sure Miss Appleby did point you in my direction because she’s a sweetheart who would hang the moon if you asked her nicely; but it wasn’t because you’re lacking in class credits. So, what are you doing here?” “I…” “Hm?” “I need to learn a new skill.” “We’ve established that as the root of this whole sing-along, William; my hiccup is the why.” Billy ground his jaw and swayed his head back on his neck like a ghost of the boy Skull had been so familiar with for most of their younger lives. All fluffy yellow hair and glasses trying to hold on as his head bobbed back and his middle finger coming up to press the frames up along his nose.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

My School President ep 12

This is entirely for @grapejuicegay, whom I have a tendency of screaming to in our dms when I watch potentially exciting episodes of ql dramas...but didn't during ep 12 of msp because kk hadn't watched it yet and I didn't want to spoil her. Hence I screamed them all here and now I'm posting them for all the world to see how my brain works 😂

God the way they drew that out!!! But I love that Tinn's mum backed out and asked how Gun's mum is doing instead. I also think it's so poignant that the piano at the side is covered up...

I wanted Tinn to be brave and tell her!

Oh Gun's confession was so good! I teared up. But it's so sad to see the difference between both their relationships with their mothers.

Oh oh oh...a prediction -> Tinn's mum will stand up for Tinn and Gun if the homophopic teacher is actually homophobic. And that's how Tinn will realise him mum knows and that's how she will let Tinn know support him.

Sorry, but blue and red with anchors just makes me think of Pat and Pran at the beach. 🤷🏽‍♀️😅

Cheeky fu*king bastard!. Love it. unhinged Gun!

"My heart has three states: solid, liquid, and solidly yours." 😂😂😂

LESBIANS!

A tandem bike ride! The TinnGun boyfriend era is SO ADORABLE!

SCREAMING!! THEIR FIRST KISS!! WAS SO PERFECT!!!!

They all knew but Por! 😂 And Sound and Win having no secrets! Beautiful!!

😭 Gun thought he was helping but it's not what Tinn wanted in the end. Oh he's doing the holding his nose thing so he doesn't cry! And their dancing song came back, they're almost dancing in the rain 😭

Basically a montage of all of us watching them become boyfriends.

Tiw spouting the truth. My baby boi Mark can do nothing wrong.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT WAS KAIJORN WHO PUNCHED THE TEACHER!!!!!!!! He so fu*king deserved it too. I wanted to punch him.

YES FU*KING YES! TINN'S MUM CAME THROUGH!! I knew it! I knew it!

Ahhhhhhh the whole prom was gorgeous! I LOVE flustered Gun. But what about Tiw and Por?!?!? I need moar.

How?! HOW?! HOW CAN THEY USE THAT MUSIC!!! (iykyk)

Awww Sound and Win are fantastic! And more Tiw and Por crumbs! But poor Pat!!

*head empty, no thoughts*

Tinn's dad playing wingman! Yes!

*sigh*

Well...that was perfect 😭😭😭

[alt-zombee]

Yo, yo, fuck 2DopeBoyz and fuck Nah Right And any other fuck-nigga-ass blog that can't put an 18-year-old nigga Makin' his own fuckin' beats, covers, videos and all that shit Fuck you post-Drake-ass cliche-jerkin', LA-slauson rappin' Fuck-nigga-ass Hypebeast niggas Now back to the album

Well, Tyler, hi, I'm Dr. TC, and um, I'm guessin' That your teacher sent you here to talk 'cause you were misbehavin' Um, it's gonna be three sessions, today, tomorrow, Wednesday So, just tell me somethin' about yourself Well look, if you don't talk, I mean these sessions are goin' to go slower

This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep Some food for thought some food for death, go ahead and fuckin' eat My father's dead, well I don't know, we'll never fuckin' meet I cut my wrist and play piano 'cause I'm so depressed Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed This meetin' just begun, nigga, I'm Satan's son

My mother raised me, a single parent, so it's apparent That I got love for my mother, none of you other fuckers Are much important, I'm gettin' angrier while recordin' I'm feelin' like the bulls, I've got a gang of wolves Odd Future is children that's fucked up on they mental Simple, but probably not, fuck 'em

I'm tall, dark, skinny, my ears are big as fuck Drunk white girls, the only way I'll get my dick sucked Suspended from school, coolest nigga without effort Easy to spot like black bitches with fake leopard Soak me up in a tampon, but keep the lamp on 'Cause this album pack enough evil That you can't fit inside a Jansport Go to school with this

I go from AP to JC inside a fuckin' week Wakin' up with random girls like, "Yo, bitch, how the fuck we meet?" I stay with grandma, she always bitchin' about her carpet Every time I walk inside the house, she always tend to start shit No to drugs, I never spark it, I used to be bullied for honor classes By those that were slow as molasses Take this shit to school

Raquel treat me like my father, like a fuckin' stranger She still don't know I made Sarah to strangle her Not put her in danger and chop her up in the back of a Wrangler All because she said no to homecomin', demons runnin' Inside my head tellin' me evil thoughts I'm the dream catcher, but nothin' but nightmares are caught Go to sleep

I wear green hats because I'm fortunately lucky "Fuck me, " the monster said, somehow the monster's dead Inside of me, but the thoughts it tells me are still evil With this state of mind, big moves, Max Keeble I'm on my grind feeble, my music is either A fucking sin or too illegal, play this shit in church

I graduated without honors or fuckin' father He died (I'm so sorry), no bitch, don't even fuckin' bother I wanted a brother, my mother I told her But instead I got a sister, just like me with her mister nada So both of our imaginations are creations of the fuckin' situation That's having our brains racing like Dayton Wearin' some fuckin' Heelys

I know you fuckin' feel me, I want to fuckin' kill me The times I'm so serious, yes, you think I'm silly I'm doin' Big Style Willy couldn't touch 11 Seven, what's religion, nigga? I am legend I roll with skaters and musicians with an intuition I created O.F. 'cause I feel we're more talented Than 40-year-old rappers talkin' about Gucci When they have kids they haven't seen in years, impressin' their peers

With the same problem, the only way to solve them Is to go to Father's Day convention with a gold revolver Life's a salad, I'ma toss it, eat that shit up, Rick Ross it Shit it out, bag it up, sell it, I'm so damn rebellious 'Cause my mother let me do what I want She wasn't careless, protective she is the bear The shit is so bare, my diary isn't hid My father didn't give a fuck, so it's somethin' I inherit

My mom is all I have so it's never meet the parents When Danielle or Milan decide to fucking share This confused boy, I wanna hug, oy I'm bad for you kids to listen to, soy is not the choice I'm bad milk, drink it

Whoa, um, it seems you had a lot to say Uh, who knows, I might feel as I'm evaluatin'

My wrist is all red from the cutter Drippin' cold blood like the winter, the summer Is never that's equivalent to me and Sarah Well, that's not her fuckin' name, but I think this shit is clever My niggas wanna know if I'm fuckin', if I'm kissin' But I'm sittin' here downin' beers simply just wishin' With a tear they try to tell me, but I never listen 'Cause I don't give a shit like sittin' down pissin'

18, still talkin' to imaginaries Hopefully they see the talent I carry just like Jimmy Losers can never win me, you can never offend me My goal in life is a Grammy, hopefully mom'll attend the Ceremony with all my homies, I'm suicidal This my Zombie Circus, I hope the majors heard this Fuck a deal, I just want my father's email So I can tell him how much I fuckin' hate him in detail

Wow, um So, Tyler, if-, if you had the chance to tell him somethin' What would you tell him?

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[voiceless-terror]

Jon plays the piano. That’s it, that’s the fic.

At first, he thinks it’s the radio. It’s not uncommon for these stores to play classical music, trying to add an air of sophistication in what’s otherwise a dark room of dusty knicknacks. But when he walks towards the noise, he instead finds Jon sitting at the bench of an old wooden upright, his posture straighter than Tim’s ever seen it, hands moving slowly but deftly across the keys as he leans into each note.

It’s mesmerizing.

Jon must hear his footsteps as he doesn’t startle when Tim sits beside him. “You never told me you could play,” Tim says, too enthralled to be truly annoyed by it. Jon gives him a self-deprecating smile, though his eyes don’t leave the keys.

“I can’t, not anymore,” he responds in complete defiance of his actions. Tim’s always loved Jon’s hands, delicate and slender and naturally elegant in all of their movements; even the most awkward of gestures made with a sort of grace. He shouldn’t be surprised that he plays so wonderfully. But Jon’s always been protective of his interests, careful not to volunteer too much information lest he be laughed at or scorned. Sometimes, when it’s only the two of them, and occasionally Sasha, he’ll let his guard down and his enthusiasm for even the most mundane of subjects is surprisingly contagious.

“Well, seeing as how I can only do Hot Cross Buns, I think you can, actually.”

“Middle C is flat,” Jon continues as if Tim hadn’t spoken, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He taps at the key a few times, but Tim’s never had a good ear for that sort of thing, so he’ll have to take Jon’s word for it. “They should really keep this in better condition, it’s a shame.” He stops his tapping but his hands still flutter over the keys as if they itch to play more. Tim would gladly sit here all day and listen.

“What was that?” He nudges Jon’s shoulder, pleased when Jon leans further into his side. 

“Satie. From his Trois Gymnopedies.” 

“Ooh, nice accent,” he teases, though he does indeed love it. “Someone passed their French A-level.”

“Shut up,” Jon butts his head affectionately against his shoulder, his face flushing. “You’re just as bad with your insufferable Italian.”

“Alright, alright,” Tim lets out a small laugh. “It’s just, you never said. Seems like you enjoy it.”

“I did,” Jon replies, his eyes going distant. He gets like that, when he talks about his past. Tim knows very little of it, though Jon insists there’s ‘nothing to know.’ Jon’s told him about what brought him to the institute in a rare moment of vulnerability, but other than that, he knows the bare minimum. “I still do, I suppose. You know, my Gran was the one who actually pushed me into the lessons.”

Jon doesn’t talk much about his grandmother. He remembers back when he first started, Jon disappeared for a week and Sasha kept checking her phone anxiously. Tim later found out that his grandmother had died, that Jon was the only one left to take care of such things. That Jon was an orphan. That Jon came back with that stiff upper lip even though he looked like shit, and promptly crumbled when Tim gave him an awkward, one-armed condolence hug. 

From what Tim knows, she wasn’t the greatest guardian. Far from it in his opinion. But she was all Jon had.

Not anymore.

“Said I needed something to distract me from- from-'' his voice stutters out and Tim wraps his arm around Jon’s waist- he knows. He doesn’t need the explanation. “Well, she wasn’t the type of person to recommend therapy. It was her way of showing that she cared.” Or just wanted you dealt with, Tim doesn’t voice.

“Did it work?” He knows the answer.

“Not at all,” Jon smirks and his hands abruptly fly across the keys in a lively, fast tune. Jon isn’t just good, he’s excellent. The way his eyes brighten and his face lights up - the man’s in his element. “Still enjoyed it, though. And I was pretty good at it, entered a few competitions.” Pretty good is more than an understatement, but Jon’s never been one to brag over things that truly matter.

“What’s this one called?”

“Rondo alla ingharese quasi un capriccio,” Jon rolls out in an over-exaggerated Italian accent. “More commonly known as Rage Over a Lost Penny.”

“You could’ve just said that.”

“I could’ve, yes,” he replies playfully, the lilting tones of the music perfectly matching his little smile. He’s an infuriating little bastard. Tim loves it.

“You didn’t want to go professional? Hit the big time?”

“Hardly,” Jon snorts in derision, his hands stilling again. “Gran was right, it wasn’t practical. No use paying for a degree in music when so few people make it.” The music, still lively, goes a bit softer. “Didn’t stop me from auditioning, though.”

“Really?” He tries to imagine a young Jon in front of a panel of judges. “Must have been nerve-wracking.”

“Indeed.” Jon says stiffly, his hands abruptly stopping as they hit a sour note. “I had a panic attack before my hands hit the keys.”

Tim winces in sympathy. “Oh, Jon…”

“And I haven’t played since.” Tim reaches out to take Jon’s hands in his own, although the man avoids his eyes. Jon puts up a hard exterior, but he’s very easily wounded. One wrong word, one bad experience- it’s internalized, played over and over in his head. People don’t realize that about him, but Tim knows better than others that the mind keeps score. “I think a part of me knew she was right. Shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s a pity,” Tim once again wishes Jon had one person he could’ve relied on as a child. One adult he could confide in or get encouragement from. He thinks about young Jon, tiny and traumatized and alone, and his chest aches with it. “I think you could’ve made it.”

“Sweet of you.” Jon leans against his side and closes his eyes. “But there’s no need to flatter.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Tim insists. And yeah, maybe he’s not well-versed in music, but he knows talent and passion when he sees it. He used to see it in his brother all the time. And it’s sad that Jon doubts himself so much. He should be able to at least enjoy his hobby without being reminded of the guilt and what-could’ve-beens.

“Always wanted to learn an instrument,” he begins carefully, letting go of one of Jon’s hands to tinker at the keys. “Maybe I’ll get a keyboard, you can show me the ropes.”

The hand still in his twitches, and he turns to see the small beginnings of a shy smile. Jon’s a good teacher, patient and kind when someone shows a genuine interest in what he has to say. And Tim would do anything to see that easy, boyish smile again, see those fingers flying across the keys with such enjoyment.

“Not sure if you can afford my rates, Stoker.”

“Hey-!”

A cough cuts into his argument. It’s the old woman who sat behind the counter as they arrived, and she’s looking at a spot somewhere above Tim’s ahead. He turns around.

DO NOT TOUCH.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he drags Jon up from the seat, ignoring his squeak. “We’ll just be going now!”

They sprint out of the store, giggling like naughty school children the entire way. Jon’s genuine laughter is rare, and something to be treasured - nothing like the sarcastic snorts he usually prefers. 

“Damn!” Jon swears as he checks his watch, smile still lingering on his face despite the furrow in his brow. “We were supposed to interview that witness at noon, it’s already half past.”

“Don’t worry, this was a necessary detour,” Tim assures him. And for him, it was. “Piano could’ve been haunted, after all.”

Jon rolls his eyes as he barks out a laugh. “Haunted. Yes, of course.”

On the train, Tim googles how much a keyboard costs. He’s thinking he might take it up after all.  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31219403