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our-time-is-now · 4 years

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May 11, 2019: I have never…

(previous play)

(Joint project from @riddikulus und @shakshuka-grandpasweaters, translated from @girlwholovesagirl, @divingdeepintothewater, @m-ger and @julerocks. Here is the timeline and the link to the original blog @unsere-zeit-ist-jetzt. If you would also like to help translate, please contact one of us.)

Saturday, 12:14 pm/7:15 pm:

Matteo: *finished his coffee in the kitchen* *quickly moved the cups and the coffee to his room after that* *gets up when David comes back in* Okay... umm... make yourself at home... there's still coffee... I'll hurry... * goes to the bathroom after that and only then realizes that he didn't take any clean clothes with him* *sniffs his clothes and thinks that they're still alright* *showers in record-time because he doesn't want to leave David alone* *rubs his hair more or less dry and decides to let the air do the rest of the drying* *manages to be back in his room after 15 minutes* *notices David sitting in his armchair sipping coffee, his gaze directed toward his lap, where he must have something that Matteo can't see from his position* *only thinks how unbelievably good he looks and how unbelievably great it feels to have him still there, still waiting for him* *closes the door behind him and smiles when David looks up* Hey...

David: *took out his sketchbook after Matteo vanished into the bathroom and randomly filled a page with things that had accompanied him yesterday and today: two Dürum, the transgender-flag from the Instagram-posts, Matteo and him embracing in his sleeping bag, his and Matteo's hands, two mugs of coffee and so on* *only made rough sketches and plans to complete some of them later when he has time* *skims through some older stuff when Matteo comes back into the room* *smiles automatically when he sees him and cocks his head* Na? All cleaned up? *grins slightly*

Matteo: *grins* Yep, as clean as it gets... *drops himself on the bean bag next to him and then leans forward to refill his coffee* *sees his sketchbook and grins slightly* Did you have to process the traumatic experience with Linn?

David: *takes the mug from Matteo when he refills their coffees* Thanks... *laughs at Matteo's question and shakes his head* *Nah... I was just doodling a little... *pushes the sketchbook towards Matteo in case he wants to take a look* ... I have to finish it sometime when I have more time... *remembers something and pulls the sketchbook back toward him* *murmurs* Hang on... *removes the paper clips that hid the pages he thought were too private - obvious transgender elements, some pages on which he processed the humiliations at his old school and countless sketches of Matteo before they met and some other big and small things connected to him* *puts the book back on the armrest between them and looks at Matteo invitingly* Well, If you'd like...

Matteo: *laughs slightly* With you it's never just doodling... *Is just about to reach for the book when David pulls it back toward himself* *thinks that David remembered something he isn't supposed to see and waits for him to tear out or glue together pages* *is all the more surprised when the opposite happens and looks at him with wide eyes* Of course I'd like to... *reluctantly takes the book into his hands* Are you sure? *sees David nod and then carefully skims through the book* *reaches the pages he wasn't allowed to look at a few weeks ago* *swallows when he sees the tougher sketches* *turns the page and sees his own face, sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, sometimes only his eyes, sometimes in profile* *two full double-pages only of him* *looks at him dumbfounded* When... when did you make these?

David: *watches as Matteo skims the book and only looks at the pages a couple of times to see what Matteo is looking at* *at Matteo's question he leans a little further toward him to see which sketches he is looking at* *grins and blushes slightly* Hmmm... if I told you it was after our first conversation, would you consider me a freak? *has actually recorded the situation or the feelings or Matteo himself after every meeting with him... and during the time they didn't have any contact he drew him again and again whenever he thought about him*

Matteo: *shakes his head* *looks back at the drawings and then back at David again* No... I'm just... flabbergasted... for only seeing me once you captured me pretty well... *clears his throat* After our first conversation I only tried to find you on Insta... *looks back towards the page* *slowly skims forward*

David: *grins slightly* Your face etched itself directly into my brain... *in his thoughts adds "and into my heart", but doesn't say it because it sounds too cheesy and because it's more true for their second meeting than their first conversation* *laughs quietly when he mentions Instagram and thinks* I don't even remember when we followed each other there... *leans forward when Matteo keeps turning pages, but finds it pretty uncomfortable having to twist like that - especially as the armchair is wide enough for both of them to fit* *shuffles to the side of the armchair, almost to the armrest, and asks* Do you maybe want to come up here? Then I can see better and don't have to twist like that... *can feel a little that he has been wearing his binder for too long but is quite relaxed at the moment and so it isn't too much of a strain, yet* *wouldn't mind being a little closer to Matteo, anyways* *glances back at the book and notices that they almost reached the "sandwich-recipe in pictures"*

Matteo: *looks at him slightly amused but also a little touched* Awwww *shrugs his shoulders* I don't either... *does remember it exactly but doesn't want to expose himself as someone who remembers stuff like that* *looks up at him when David offers the space next to him* *grins and naturally joins him there immediately* *would love to put an arm around him but leaves it for now because otherwise he wouldn't be able to turn the pages anymore* *turns the page and sees the sandwich-recipe and has to laugh out loud* This is genius! *looks at him lovingly* The drawings are all really awesome…

David: *smiles satisfied when Matteo sits down next to him, hesitates briefly but then puts an arm around him and leans against him to look into the book with him* *grins when he hears Matteo’s laugh and shrugs* At least this way we can never forget what was on them... just in case we want to prepare another feast like that* *laughs but then gets more serious again and smiles at Matteo's compliment* *hears a phone buzz and tries to fumble his phone out of his pocket* *looks at Matteo questioningly while doing so* Yours or mine? *eventually manages to get his phone out and glances at it* *shakes his head* Yours! *moves slightly away so that Matteo has enough space to grab his phone but lets his arm remain on the armrest*

Matteo: *smiles and wipes imaginary pearls of sweat off his forehead* Thank God! *also notices the vibrating and is immediately annoyed that someone is disturbing them* *gets up to take his phone out of his pocket* *sees that it's his mother and immediately feels bad* Sorry, my mum... *walks a few steps away and picks up* Hi Mama...

David: *nods when Matteo apologizes and contemplates for a moment whether he should leave Matteo alone* *decides against it because if he didn't want him to hear the conversation he probably would have left the room* *reaches for his mug and tries to look as if he wasn’t listening but still hears everything*

Matteo’s mom: *is glad that her son answers his phone; had tried calling yesterday without success and was worried after he had disappeared so suddenly the day before that* Hey, darling... I just wanted to ask if everything's alright...

Matteo: *turns slightly away from David, more as a reflex than defense* Yes, everything all right... sorry that I left... but I had to take care of something... but everything’s good now...

Matteo’s mom: Take care of what? Did it have something to do with David? I mean it's probably none of my business... anyways: It is good that everything's all right and well now. *sounds a little insecure, as if she didn't know to what extend she is allowed to ask her son about private things*

Matteo: *closes his eyes briefly* *doesn't really want to tell his mother anything but doesn't want to offend her either* Yes... it did... but... everything's fine now and we... we'll make up for the dinner, okay?

Matteo’s mom: *sounds happy* Yes, I'd love that! With David as well? When do you have time?

Matteo: *shakes his head for himself* Maybe... I don't know... *briefly looks over to David* *I'll ask him and I'll text you, ok?

Matteo’s mom: Do that! - I'm looking forward to it! *one can hear her smile* *Bye, my boy! *waits for Matteo to say goodbye and then hangs up the phone*

David: *had sipped his coffee and waited* *only looked up once when Matteo said he would ask _him_ and wondered briefly if it was about him* *watches Matteo now, after all, but thinks that he doesn't look stressed but only a little impatient* *smiles when Matteo hangs up and turns around to face him* *tilts his head questioningly* Everything all right?

Matteo: Bye, Mama *hangs up and puts the phone back into his pocket* *nods briefly and talks while he goes back to David and sits back down next to him* Yes, that was my mom... I kinda left her hanging on Thursday and well... *shrugs one shoulder* She invited us over for dinner... but I didn't agree on anything... I can go by myself...

David: *briefly thinks about what could have happened on Thursday and realizes that it was probably because Laura had told him that he hadn't come home* *feels bad for a moment but doesn't get the chance to apologize again because Matteo continues talking* *looks at him skeptically while he talks and shakes his head slightly* Um, what? She invited _us_? *for one, didn't know that Matteo came out to his mother and didn’t know that he even told her about him, either* *smiles insecurely and stammers slightly* I didn't know that you... well I thought you weren't out to her... and... she knows about me?

Matteo: *nods slowly when he asks /who/ she invited* Yes... *listens to him and instantly gets a little embarrassed* Oh... umm... yes... after I called you, when I wanted to pick you up... after that phone call I texted her... well I came out and she knows your name but not much more than that... *looks at him and puts his arm around him* And you really don't have to come if you don't want to...

David: *smiles lovingly and a little proudly because he thinks it's really brave of Matteo and because it shows him once again how certain Matteo had been the entire time that he wants to be with him - if he even told his mother about him* *leans on him when he puts his arm around him and reaches for his hand* *quietly says* This was really brave! *actually thinks any kind of coming-out is really brave* *grins when he hears his next words and looks up at him provokingly* And if I want to? Would you take me with you? *would actually like to meet Matteo’s mother*

Matteo: *shrugs when he says that it was brave* Over text? I just wanted her to know... *grins at him when he says that he wants to come along* Of course I would take you with me... but I'd warn you that you can't choose your family... *hesitates briefly and gets serious again* My mother takes antidepressants... I think she's doing better now... but... it wasn't always easy with her.... and I'm used to not really knowing in what mood she's in... just so you know...

David: *thinks the way of the coming-out doesn't matter - if it's over text or in person - it's a really big step* *shrugs when he hears his warning and grinningly sighs* You don't have to tell ME about it... *thinks that one of these days they're probably going to talk about his family, too, but for now he's only curious about Matteo’s mother* *gets serious again when Matteo does and listens to him* *presses his lips together briefly and at first doesn't really know what he should say or what he's allowed to ask* *brushes his thumb over the back of Matteo's hand and eventually says* If you want to tell me more about it... about your mother or your parents you can do that anytime... doesn't have to be now... but maybe sometime... *looks up at him and gives him a brief, tender kiss on his mouth* *murmurs* I'm here, okay?

Matteo: *nods slowly* *smiles at the kiss* Okay... maybe some time... later... after you've met her... *kisses him again and automatically slides closer to him*

David: *smiles at Matteo's words and nods* Okay... *gets another kiss and feels how Matteo slides closer to him* *softly grabs his neck so that Matteo won’t release the kiss and deepens it* *runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower and then back over his neck and his cheek* *a feeling of happiness rushes through him when he thinks about the fact that he can kiss Matteo whenever he wants now*

Matteo: *makes out with David on his armchair a little longer until his stomach rumbles once again* *laughs and apologizes* *they decide to get some food and go to the kitchen to make some sandwiches, which they take back to Matteo's room* *they then move from the armchair to the bed* *at some point, Matteo puts on some quiet music and they lie there and talk* *Matteo tells him a little more about his friends, who is or was dating whom or who's crushing on whom, what they are like* *David talks a little about Laura and his godmother* *at some point in the evening they order pizza and Matteo manages to get it and be back in his room without being held up by one of his flatmates* *after eating the pizza they are more quiet and make out more than talk*

David: *really enjoyed the entire day with Matteo and felt incredibly comfortable* *found it interesting to learn more about Matteo's friends and thus more about Matteo and thinks that being with him like that has a completely different meaning now as finally nothing is standing between them anymore* *is lying on the bed with Matteo after eating the pizza - by now both of them only in their T-shirts, as sweaters and hoodies were getting too warm - and enjoys the closeness to him and that they don't need many words right now* *runs his fingers over Matteo’s neck while they kiss and can't really resist the urge to be even closer to him* *therefore deepens the kiss and moves closer to Matteo* *pushes his leg between Matteo's legs and wraps his arm around his back* *moves his arm softly up and down his back*

Matteo: *feels a pleasant shudder when David pulls him closer* *has his hand in David's hair and pushes himself even closer to David* *kisses him and notices how his entire body reacts to David* *his /entire/ body* *panics all of a sudden as he doesn't know what he should do and might do something wrong* *pulls away from David and exhales deeply* Sorry... I... *is still slightly out of breath and has to collect himself a little* Well, I... *swallows hard and then looks at him* I have never...

David: *because of the closeness to Matteo he can feel that all this making out doesn't leave Matteo unaffected either and notices that he feels the same way* *doesn't have any idea where this might lead to but is too aroused to think about this now* *lets everything happen and loses himself in this feeling and is therefore slightly confused and a little breathless when Matteo suddenly pulls away* *asks himself briefly if he did something wrong and it takes some time for Matteo's words to get through to him* *swallows and then smiles slightly when he understands what Matteo is trying to tell him* *puts a hand on his cheek and looks back at him* Me neither... *gnaws at his bottom lip and tries to sort his thoughts* *asks quietly* So you never, ever? Neither with boys nor girls? *thinks that the question sounds somewhat stupid and blushes slightly* *assumed that Matteo had slept with Sara but likes the thought that apparently that wasn't the case and that it will be the first time for both of them*

Matteo: *immediately feels stupid and thinks that he shouldn't have told him and should have just kept going* *but then he feels David's hand on his cheek and relaxes a little* *closes his eyes briefly when he says he hasn’t either and is somehow extremely relieved* *opens his eyes at his question* *can assume that David is talking about Sara and shakes his head* No... boys never offered themselves... and with girls... I didn't want to... *bites lightly on his bottom lip* So... well... it didn't come out of nowhere that she was able to put two and two together so quickly, I guess...

David: *laughs at Matteo's words and feels his heart do a little jump* *knows that it probably shouldn't matter but it still means something to him that apparently they'll make this first experience together* *thinks that right now Matteo looks so open and slightly unsure but so beautiful that he just has to lean forward to kiss him again* *searches for words and eventually says quietly* So far, that was out of question... there wasn't anybody I trusted enough that it could have even come close to that... *moves closer to him again, gets a little nervous and feels his heart jump to his throat when he whispers* But with you, I could imagine it...

Matteo: *immediately closes his eyes when David kisses him* *looks at him again when he talks and feels even the last bit of tension leave his body* *nods slightly at his words and feels his heart beat faster* I feel the same... *closes the distance between them and kisses him again* *at first softly and tenderly but then he deepens the kiss and pulls him a little closer* *is about to carefully push his hand under David's T-shirt when there is a knock on his door* *can’t even react before the door opens and Hans is standing in his room* Hello, my butterfly, Linn said... Oh! Hello! *Matteo sat up to at least attempt to shield David a little* Hans, out!

David: *almost beams when Matteo says that he feels the same, but then gets kissed and pulled closer by him* *deepens the kiss together with Matteo and quickly realizes that they pick up right where they left off earlier* *flinches when there is a knock on the door and only seconds later Hans is standing in the room* *blushes and gets flustered and is relieved when Matteo sits up to shield him a little even though he immediately misses being close to Matteo* *hears Hans laugh at Matteo's request: "Oh, you sweethearts, I didn't want to interrupt... let me know if you need anything! Keep going! Have fun"!* *blushes even more at Hans' words but actually hears the door close and then it's quiet* *lays there petrified and shocked for a moment but then he pulls Matteo back down and half on top of him* *grins slightly* You heard him… keep going... *searches for his lips again and deepens the kiss* *eventually puts a hand under Matteo's shirt and softly strokes it up and down his back* *loves how soft his skin is there and realizes that he wants to feel more of that* *at some point hears distant voices coming from the living room - Mia and Hans: "Why can't you fold your laundry in your room for a change!!? Give them some privacy!" - "But here I'm closer to the action... in case they need anything..."* *stops listening to the discussion but still feels a little under observation* *is glad when it soon gets silent again in the living room but can't quite turn off the thought that somebody is sitting there, listening to every noise coming from Matteo's room* *hears Hans laughing loudly all of a sudden and stops the kiss a little* *murmurs* We could also go to my place...

Matteo: *laughs a little when David pulls him back toward him* *manages to suppress the interruption and continues* *can also hear the voices coming from the living room and thinks that somehow this isn’t great* *sighs when he hears Hans’ laugh and pulls David back* *is really glad about his suggestion* Yes, please… *gives him another short kiss and slowly pulls away* Sorry... I never thought they'd all stay home on a Saturday night... *gets up slowly together with David* *both of them get dressed again and Matteo stops at the door* Okay... the plan is get through the living room quickly, grab jackets, bag and shoes and then we're out of here... don't give Hans any chance *grins a little*

David: *laughs quietly at Matteo's answer and grumbles a little when he slowly pulls away after the short kiss* *doesn't want to let him go at all* *shrugs at Matteo's apology, smiles and murmurs* No problem... you couldn't have known... *gets up with a sigh and puts his sweater back on* *then says* Maybe my sister will be at home, but she usually spends her evenings in her room and probably won't disturb... *at least he hopes so* *would really like to continue what they started without any interruptions* *grins at Matteo's words once they're at the door and nods* Okay - go in and win... or rather: go in and flee! *gets ready and follows Matteo when he opens the door* *has to grin when he sees Hans sitting in the living room in front of the TV with a pile of laundry and doesn't react to his comment: "Oh, do you need anything?! Are you leaving"?* *only grabs his stuff, puts on his shoes quickly and leaves the flat with Matteo* *has to laugh when the door closes behind them* Made it! *briefly pulls Matteo against him and kisses him hard but brief* And now let's hurry... I want to continue where we left off!

(next play)

#druck #og druck #davenzi #david schreibner #matteo florenzi #hans brecht #mia winter #matteo's mom #11052019 #play 19 #missing moments

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bat-besties · 4 years

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The Great (He)Art Heist

An art forger. An art thief. One last heist, then they never have to see each other again.

At least, that was the plan.

Roceit with art thief Roman and forger Deceit. - 8k

Edited and titled by the wonderful @rosesisupposes

Summary by @5-crofters-jams

AO3

The Mona Lisa was stolen by Vincenzo Peruggia on 21 August, 1911. Famous beforehand, the drama of the theft and celebration of its return is credited as the main reason for its fame.

The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein hangs in the National Gallery in London, and is considered to be one of the most technically accomplished Renaissance paintings.

Dorian found his name ironic, and greatly enjoyed that irony. It was why he'd changed it as he entered the murky world of fakes, forgeries and stolen pieces, to just his initial- “D.”- before a surname which sounded like it had also been lifted from the pages of a Victorian novel (because it had been): Mendax. Might as well be truthful about the fact he never was. The slightly arcane flair of it fit right in with his associates - St. John (pronounced 'sinjin', something it was embarrassing to learn by correction), de somethings, von somethings, double-barrels and echoes of fame- but even among them, he found 'Peruggia' a little on the nose.

But then 'Roman Peruggia' as he certainly was not legally named, had never seemed to acquire the subtlety Dorian had cultivated to survive.

Dorian knew he was not the best forger there was- he could name someone for each artist he knew who could beat him: Logos for M.C. Escher or the De Stijl movement, Andy Angel for heavy, brooding oil pieces, the list went on. But when it came to range he was unbeatable, and across the board he could copy so well that while they might not stand up to forensic examination, few had been suspicious enough to warrant that examination. He got the feel of the piece, that was the main thing. He wasn't a robot, he didn't copy lines down to less than a millimetre as Logos was rumored to do, he studied and daydreamed and looked at the paintings, he read about artists for pleasure as well as work, and when he was ready he let the mood of the painting overtake him. Loose brushstrokes or precise ones, sketched below the paint or freehanded, name any artist well-known enough for you to know them and he knew their technique.

He applied the same logic to himself. He fit in by careful planning and learned intuition. Which was why he was sitting in the café of the V&A in a checkered scarf and round tortoiseshell glasses with plain lenses, flicking through a sketchbook he'd lifted out of someone else's bag in the National Gallery a week ago. The owner was learning, and he supposed someone else might find that endearing. He didn't like the slight carelessness of the lines. He especially did not like one page where they'd given over to doodles, swirling flowers and eyes and curling armadillos. It wasn't neat, it wasn't nice, it wasn't respectful to a slightly-out-of-proportion Whistlejacket on the other page. He sipped at an overpriced coffee and closed the sketchbook. His contact was late.

A man slid into a chair by him, clattering a plate with a brownie on it. He grinned at Dorain. "Uh...Ethan, is it? Fancy meeting you here!" He did not look like one of the art students in the café as Dorian had taken such care to. He looked like an asshole.

Dorian smiled slightly. "Love the jacket, Tarquin. So tasteful."

The man ran a hand through coiffed hair and laughed. The jacket was bright red acrylic. His jeans were black and very, very tight, as was a T-shirt he was wearing with the name of a designer brand. "Oh, you think so? I saw the sale had ended on it and I was so sad but then I thought- why not! I have the money."

"Of course you do." Which was the point. Roman Peruggia had just completed a major job in New York, with the sale of the paintings rumored to be in the millions. His reputation for thievery and production of genuine paintings was flawless- a little red calling card left where paintings had been ensured that his work was clearly marked.

Roman picked up Dorian's sketchbook and flicked through it. "Ah, the master at work?"

"It's got all my work in it," Dorian said. "No item is more precious to me."

Roman's eyebrows raised, and he turned the pages slightly more slowly. "May I have a page of it?"

Dorian examined the nice leather gloves he'd chosen to compliment his disguise. "Rip it out, why don't you?"

Roman paused. "I...are you being sarcastic?"

"Totally," Dorian said in his most sarcastic tone, because Roman had been late and not kept to dress code.

Roman carefully tore out a page- Whistlejacket, with the doodles on the obverse.

"I was messing with you," Dorian said at the sight of the doodles. "That isn't mine."

"No?" Roman laughed awkwardly, as if he hoped Dorian was joking- or maybe he still thought he was. "These are cute!"

"I don't doodle. Not like that. You can have the whole thing, if you want it."

Roman made a mock serious face before laughing again. "So you don't doodle, you just make masterpieces from scratch?"

"Broadly."

"Huh." Roman sat back and started in on his brownie, pointedly not looking at Dorian as he waited for the next move.

"I presume you know," Dorian said. "Of a trick. Where one item is stolen, then multiple replicas are sold. Three, seven, eighteen- the price of that item multiplied over and over again."

He waited for a reaction, some affirmation or a comment, but Roman just licked the icing sugar from his fingers and watched Dorian. He couldn't read his expression yet, but he'd learn to.

"Of course, it's a dangerous game. In one case, the thieves even returned the diamond to the police. It might not seem as dashing as-"

"I have a reputation, Ethan." Red calling cards. Red jacket. Red lips, now Dorian noticed it. Lipstick, probably. Roman did have a reputation, yes. He must have enjoyed the work of constructing it. "I love the danger part of all this. But I don't do fakes."

"Then why did you agree to meet with me?"

"Curiosity, mainly," Roman said. "You have a reputation."

"Oh?" Dorian said, leaning forward just slightly. "And what is it about me that interested you?"

"You copied the Mona Lisa."

"So has everybody and their friend. I'm not special."

"It could have convinced me. None of the others could."

"It's not actually that complex," Dorian said. "There's one reason why it's so famous, one reason only...but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, 'Peruggia'?"

Roman shook his head resolutely. He ignored the jab at his pseudonym. "I don't think it was just the theft. They talk about Mona Lisa smiles, don't they? There's something special about the painting."

Dorian rested his chin on his hands. "And what's that, do you think?"

Roman only shrugged. "I don't know! Isn't that the fun bit?" He looked Dorian up and down, the way he bled into the background. "I thought you might have something to tell me about it. And...I was wondering if I might purchase a copy."

Dorian laughed through his nose. "Not going to follow in the footsteps of your treasured ancestor and steal it yourself?"

"I look forward to doing so!" Roman said. "Nonnino would be so proud."

Dark eyes, dark hair- Roman could be Italian. He didn’t have a hint of an accent, but he might have been raised here. And the original art thief had had a daughter, Dorian had checked. But the lie was too far-fetched. It was as though Roman didn't care if he saw through it.

"Then why do you need a copy? If you're just going to steal the original yourself."

"I'm impatient!" Roman said. "That's all. I think..." But he popped the last of the brownie to stop himself from talking more.

"The Mona Lisa is worth $850 million." Dorian said. "If you could find a buyer who'd give you even half the price you'd be set for several lifetimes- in money, and in potential prison sentences."

"They don't give art thieves life!"

"How many paintings have you stolen, again?"

Roman crossed his arms. "Oh, very rich, coming from you!"

Dorian wrote small and personal speech in his head about why that was not the case, breathed in, erased it, and gave Roman the final and most important line. "I'm careful."

"You've also done enough for...oh, maybe one lifetime, either way. Why not quit while you're ahead? Set up a nice little art gallery of your own work in the South of France."

Dorian adjusted his fake glasses. "I don't do originals."

"Quite the man of mystery, aren't you?" Roman said. "Ok- what's your favourite work of art of all time?"

Dorian smirked at Roman. "You are, of course."

Funny, Roman's cheeks went red now too. But he wasn't completely naïve. "Oh! Ha! A sense of humour."

"Here's the deal," Dorian continued smoothly. "I want to continue with my copies, but I'm ready to quit while I'm ahead. It sounds like you need to prepare for quite the big heist. You steal a painting I'm about to show you, I make four copies, we each sell two and keep the money. I'll even throw in a Mona Lisa copy, and another two paintings if you want them. Then our ways part."

If Dorian had told Roman what the painting was, he would have politely declined and walked away right then. But he was curious, and he didn't think Dorian would tell him here. So instead they got up, passed the statues to get to the Tube tunnel- "I always enjoyed how this feels like a secret exit!" Roman said, and Dorian let himself smile before he said, "Me too."

⁂

"You've got to be shitting me," Roman said. They stood side by side in the airy light of the gallery.

"Why?" Dorian said. He'd pocketed the glasses, they were beginning to annoy him. "Is it too hard for you, Peruggia?"

"Just call me Roman," the thief said, stepping closer to the painting to examine it. "Isn't it too hard for you?"

It was The Ambassadors, taller than they were, realistic, old, and masterfully painted. Dorian shook his head, looking up at it critically. "Nope. It'll be time-intensive, though. I need you to wait for me."

"How much is it worth?"

"I'm not sure yet. Just four copies will set us up quite comfortably, I think."

Roman looked at the painting's heavy frame, at the security devices all around, at how far they were from the exits. It would be a challenge. Some might say it was impossible. But if you could get a mechanism in- maybe by posing as workers-

Fuck. He wanted this, now. He wanted to know that he could.

Dorian suggested that they find another anonymous place to meet up in, but Roman needed somewhere secure to dramatically explain his plan. He also wanted to see how the forgeries are coming along. Dorian reluctantly invited Roman to his studio.

His studio was white-walled and had a wooden floor bespattered with paint. It was covered in forgeries- his favourites, like a Monet and an obscure little Elizabethan portrait hidden among pieces purely for work. It was...innocent, maybe, in a way which didn’t fit the murky tones of the underworld they both inhabited. But that was the way the light fell through the high windows, not anything the thief would notice.

It should be fine. So Dorian tried to put off the worry about the night until he was leaving his apartment to get there a little early. Except- he had to get dressed. Neat silk shirts, casual jeans, anonymous business suit, a sweatshirt with a bearded dragon he couldn’t quite bring himself to give away. He could have reprised his art student disguise, but he wanted to be clear it was a disguise.

Maybe he should match the thief? He googled Roman's jacket, and found it after a while. The model in the picture had the exact same outfit Roman was wearing, down to the brand of the T-shirt. Dorian was clearly not the only one wearing a costume.

That emboldened Dorian. Nothing scares a liar more than the truth - he would know.

So when Dorian came to open the door for Roman, it was in costume from an obscure Victorian opera he bought from the black market. Black and yellow, a bowler hat and capelet, it was Gothic and exquisitely made, and, importantly, still a costume. Even if it was what he wanted to wear, even if it was how he wanted himself to be, he reminded himself it was originally a costume.

Roman stopped to take him in, looking him up and down from polished boots to his bowler hat. "You look...is that original era?"

Was that a hint of a flush on his face? Oh, he could not be straight. Dorian would bet his whole studio of fakes he was not. Which was the only reason he let Roman clearly see him return the once-over he gave him. And the only reason he said: "Not so bad yourself, Peruggia. Oh, and yes. It's quite genuine."

"Oh. Well, I'll have to...up my game next time we meet," Roman said. He was still in a relatively generic designer outfit, still in his signature red.

"I look forward to it," Dorian said without thinking too deeply about whether that was true. "Come on up."

Roman looked around the studio in excitement. "These are great! Can I touch one?"

"No!" Dorian was horrified. "Do you touch the paintings you steal?"

"Of course not!" Roman put an offended hand on his chest. "What do you think I am, Mendax, an amateur? But I want to do it and I can't and it's so frustrating! Like popping bubble wrap!"

Dorian pointed at the background on the large canvas he'd started The Ambassadors on. "Once."

Roman very carefully ran the tip of his finger over the paint before stepping back, satisfied. "Thank you! Now, let me get the blueprints out!"

He took Dorian through the complex plan he'd devised. He was smart, Dorian had to give him that, and willing to explain wherever Dorian got stuck. The one snag was the exact route on the way in. "I'll have to fix that up," Roman said.

Dorian nodded and stepped towards the door. "Sure, I'll see you-"

But Roman hadn't moved, he'd just pulled a pack of white pencils out of his jacket and started drawing on the plan. Dorian coughed behind him. "Should you be going?"

"Oh, this won't take long!" Roman said. "Just get some painting done if you're bored."

Dorian stepped over Roman's legs to his speaker. "I listen to music. Classical. I have to have that to concentrate, you can't speak to me." He needed the freedom of privacy. This was his space.

"I won't! What music do you like?"

In answer, Dorian turned on his speaker and turned back to his canvas, ignoring Roman. He began to paint, uncomfortably aware of the man behind him. Would he- he turned, suddenly, to see if the thief might have some master plan to steal Dorian's pictures, but all he saw was Roman sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he sketched. He turned back to his work.

An hour or so later, during the break between pieces, Roman quietly asked Dorian to come and look over the plans again. He explained the new route.

"When shall we meet again?" Dorian asked.

Roman shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, it might need fine-tuning. Maybe give me another hour?"

"Well, I'm famished," Dorian said. "I'm going out for dinner now. I can't leave you in here."

"How about you ask me to have dinner with you?" Roman said, rolling up his blueprints. "I'll get the check, since you let me use the space today."

So they went to a little Italian place where the owners knew Dorian by name - a fake name, of course, but the sentiment was appreciated.

And, when Dorian tried to trip Roman up by getting him to order in Italian (because this was business, and Dorian needed to call the shots in business) Roman answered perfectly, and began excitedly chatting with the waiter.

"I'm glad you've brought a friend, Declyn!" She grinned at him.

Roman laughed. "Is he usually a lonely diner?"

"Oh no, we have nice chats, but I've not met a friend before!"

Dorian kept his cool. This wasn't at all embarrassing. "He's not a friend," he said politely.

Dot and Roman's eyebrows raised in one movement.

"I'll leave you two to it!" she said, before bursting into the kitchen to tell Larry one of their regulars had a date.

Roman laughed at Dorian's expression as soon as she left. "Your face!"

Dorian let out a long-suffering sigh. "A slip of the tongue. Can we move on? To...anything which isn't that."

"Why don't you paint originals?" Roman asked, all casual innocence.

Dorian took a sip of water to stall. "A lot of painters could do replicas. But the paintings I do, proper forgeries, have to be perfect. The right brush strokes, the right colour, the right emotions. I have to be a chameleon, adapt to embody other artists. I don't want to lock myself into one style."

Roman was quiet. He didn't fidget as Dorian had expected, he just sat still and looked at Dorian for a while. Then he said, "That doesn't really make much sense."

Dorian's eyes narrowed. "No?"

"No." Roman gestured at Dorian's eccentric outfit. "Just because you like dressing like this, it doesn't mean you can't blend into the background with your stolen sketchbook other times. You can be yourself, as well as hiding. The two don't have to be discreet."

Dorian hummed noncommittally.

"Well? What do you think about that?"

He paused for a long moment before he opened his mouth. "I think-"

Dot bustled over with drinks and starters, and Dorian turned to her with a grateful smile.

"So...are we going to get a story, Declyn?" She put the drinks down deliberately slowly. "One sentence, I won't keep you guys long."

"We're colleagues with a shared art appreciation. Dreadfully mundane."

Dot knew her eccentric customer had a tendency towards sarcasm and opposites. So she just smiled knowingly before she left again.

Roman turned back to Dorian as soon as the kitchen door swung behind her. "What do you think about originals?"

"We should get our story straight before she comes back," Dorian deflected.

"Get it gay, don't you mean?"

Dorian gave him an unimpressed look; the smile didn't drop from Roman's face. "Come on," Roman said. "I had to do it. Let's see, I was devastatingly handsome, I courted you and you were spiky but then you fell-"

"-as of, oh, a month ago," Dorian finished smoothly. "Our first date was the V&A, of course."

"Oh it was, was it?" Roman said mischievously.

Dorian ran through a cycle of answers. In his art student disguise he'd be flustered, in a suit dismissive, in an art-show-fashionable dress he'd flirt back. He wasn't sure how a man in a Victorian opera costume should respond. Sing, probably. But he liked the idea of the dress, back in his apartment. It was red, like Roman. "You were smitten immediately," Dorian said with a smirk. "You tore a page out of my sketchbook and wore it in the pocket over your heart."

"I'm a thief," Roman said, stealing a piece of cheese from Dorian's plate. "You should be touched I asked permission first, I could have just taken it."

"You're not a thief in this story," Dorian reminded him.

"Ah, of course not," Roman said lightly. "Accountant pals, maybe?"

"That could work," Dorian said.

"Art enthusiasts, right?" Roman said. "Have you read about the cut to funding of arts classes pla-"

"There is nothing more indicative of society that is failing than classism in art-"

"I know right! It's not like-"

And then they were off, pausing only to thank Dot for their mains and barely pausing to eat- or breathe.

They got their dessert for free. A single tiramisu with two spoons. Roman paid for the rest of the meal.

Roman agreed to run the plans by Dorian three days later. He did. Then he laid his plans on the ground, and Dorian put music on, and they worked together again, despite Dorian's grumbling.

"You owe me for this, Peruggia."

"Mmm...dinner again?"

"I'm not making a habit of this."

But Dorian had always been a liar.

⁂

Six months later, neither knew each other's real name. But Dorian knew Roman loved Broadway, and had let slip he shared that love. A few too many references made it obvious Roman loved Disney, too. He said he liked Flynn Ryder, and Dorian rewatched Tangled that night. The day after their conversation about Broadway, Roman hummed 'Façade' from Jekyll and Hyde as he read up about how best to hack security cameras.

Roman stuck his tongue out when he concentrated. When Dorian took a break to stretch he went in time to his music, often without thinking. Roman bought whole sets of clothes off mannequins. It was easier, according to him. He declined the offer to look for actual clothes for himself. Dorian had a different name at every restaurant they visited. Roman had wanted to be an actor. Dorian had only ever wanted to paint. When Roman was stressed he was loud and big and full of nervous energy which needed to be burned off with a walk and giving him space to talk about everything and nothing. When Dorian got lost in the detail of the painting- it happened most often in the most minute detail - he wouldn't break for water or stretches or food. Roman had to steal his speaker and sometimes his brush to pull him away.

As the heist drew nearer, those little details seemed to take on greater weight. A few days before it, Roman became a notable absence in Dorian’s studio as he prepared. He would enter the building at eight, Dorian remembered, and he tried to paint as the clock chipped away at seven, five past, eight past, twelve past. His music tried to smooth the harsh seconds by dripping ornaments and glissandos over it, but even that became a distraction rather than letting him get in the right headspace like usual.

He flipped from the intense detail of a little landscape to preparing a frame. It wasn’t hard, but he didn’t feel like it was quite right. It was too easy to take his attention. He paced up and down his studio a few times, shaking out his hands. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and opened a news app to see if there was anything about the heist yet. Nothing.

If Roman got caught, as long as the thief didn’t tell, there was nothing to trace back to Dorian. And he wouldn’t tell. So there was no reason to worry. Sure, it was a waste of months of work on the forgeries but that was better than prison.

Dorian went over to look at the forgery. The small details had been hardest: Hans Holbein had written legible writing on even the tiniest of items. A whole cabinet of items to represent the two men and showcase their learning- he’d explained each one to Roman, at some point. The distorted skull was the hardest to do, but satisfying. He paced around it, seeing the skull form. Memento mori. “So,” he had said, “remember your place and don’t be proud. And be careful.” Roman had just laughed. “Ah, but remember...yolo. So don’t be too boring!”. Dorian laughed through his nose and shook his head. Roman was such an idiot, and he could be reckless. But he was a professional, he would return safe.

Dorian gave up on trying to concentrate and closed up the studio for the night, heading back on the Tube and letting his mind wander through the window and wonder in which style he would paint it. But the red lights of the signal, and a young woman in a designer T-shirt, and an advert for some kind of Disney on Ice event wouldn’t let him drift into the imagined simplicity of painting.

A few hours after he’d got home, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it from his side and opened it to see a single winking emoji from Roman. And he felt his insides go soft. And he knew it didn’t mean much, so he replied “Well done.” and let himself come down from his nerves to sleep. It didn’t mean much. It didn’t mean anything.

The theft broke on the news the next morning.

⁂

"I suppose this is goodbye, then," Dorian said, when Roman returned to his apartment the next day. "Don't miss me too much. Here she is-" He handed over a Mona Lisa copy. "And you can pick any other two. I like the Monet, personally."

"I do too," Roman said. "But that one's your favourite-"

Dorian laughed unconvincingly. "Oh, no, I-"

"You look at it when you're stressed. Like you want to be a little lilypad floating somewhere I can't annoy you," Roman teased.

"Would that I were," Dorian replied with a roll of his eyes and a slight smile. He was relieved in some ways, but it kind of hurt to have Roman reject the piece of himself he tried to give him.

"No, I'll take the Picasso, I like that new one!"

"Very nice. And the third?"

Roman didn't put on a show of casualness, he knew just what he was asking. "For the third, I'd like an original piece."

"What of, exactly?" Dorian asked, distant and cool.

Roman persisted. "Whatever you like."

The forger looked at his studio of replicas, like old friends, at his paints, his brushes, his paint-splattered speaker. Then he looked at Roman. His honest eyes, his liar's mouth, his impersonal armour of an outfit.

"I'm going to paint you."

Roman's eyes widened. "What- how?"

Dorian tilted his head and assessed him. "Come dressed how you'd like to be painted. Don't waste my time with $40 T-shirts and such. Wear red."

"The colour of love," said Roman with a grin, because Dorian had wrong-footed him.

"The colour of blood," said Dorian, because he needed the last word.

And because Roman wouldn't let him, he carefully put each painting under his arm and on the way out he asked Dorian if he'd seen Titanic, and Dorian rolled his eyes, and they got caught on the question of the male gaze and how much room was on that raft for an extra twenty minutes.

Roman arrived in a prince's costume. No crown, just his natural curly hair. The jacket was white, technically, but the red sash was...perfect. The red cape was perfect. The gold and white were perfect. Of course, Dorian reflected, saying so would only give Roman a window to tease him and he was already so nervous but- "I stole this whole ensemble from the V&A costume vault! Ah, memories."

He laughed. "You look- perfect."

Roman blushed, slightly, and Dorian laughed again. "Keep that red, darling, I have a theme for you." He'd set a stool up by a white wall, but the colour didn't quite work right with the prince outfit, they didn't contrast..."Could you lay down on the floor?"

"I am not getting paint on this!"

"Fine-" Dorian circled his studio a few times before holding his hand out. "Your cloak, please."

Roman took it off. Dorian hung it from some of the many picture-hooks on the wall, creating a backdrop. "Sit down, just there."

Roman did so, and Dorian tilted his head to assess him. The red made him stand out, but the sash was like a slash across his chest, like he was so much himself he was tearing apart. That couldn't be further from the truth. He took the cloak down again, not speaking to his sitter, and stepped back again.

The white kind of fading into the background, the red strong and vivid...that could work. Roman, bold and vibrant, letting his edges blur into the background...but there needed to be something more.

Dorian handed Roman a stem sharp with red gladioli flowers and positioned his hand to hold it like a sword, then shook his head. He stuck the tongue out of the corner of his mouth then put his hand over Roman's and moved them to be positioned over his heart. Better. Not perfect. And this had to be perfect.

Roman laughed softly and mirrored Dorian's expression, poking his tongue out of his mouth. "Copying my expressions now too?"

"Oh?" Dorian closed his mouth. "I didn't realise."

"'S cute," Roman teased.

"Thank you," Dorian said, leading Roman back up from the stool and into the middle of the studio. "And you've given me an idea. I'm sorry about the costume, maybe you can commission a copy from Pat Morgan with all that money you have now. Her work is lovely, they'll make something even realer than the original."

"I don't want a copy," Roman said, lying down on dusty paint stains and propping up his head on his chin to look up at Dorian. "If this one is ruined...so be it. Make me look beautiful in it! Maybe, just, accentuate my cheek bones a little-"

"No," Dorian said gently. "Now, kick your legs up behind you, and hold your flowers just under your chin- finger underneath your chin- There you are, just perfect."

"For the final touch..." Dorian went into Roman's shoulder-bag and pulled out a collection of plans and maps, spreading them on the floor in front of him, as though he'd just looked up. He laughed when he saw a few stacks of notes tied in bundles of thousands of dollars loose in the bag with them. He put a few among the plans. "A status symbol," he said. "Like in The Ambassadors."

"I'm my own status symbol."

"Oh, of course you are," Dorian purred.

"Now, you'll need to hold that there," Dorian said, turning a canvas around. "And I'm not sure which music would fit the mood. We'll have to be quiet."

"Alas!" Roman said. "I shall be dreadfully bored, just lying here!"

"Dinner afterwards," Dorian said. "I'll pay. Just hold that for an hour or so, think about all the ways you'll spend your money. Then - does Italian sound good?"

"Only if we get tiramisu,” Roman said with a little grin.

"We can only do that if you can convince Dot to bring two rather than one big one with two spoons."

Roman hummed. "Nope!"

"What?"

"Sharing is caring, Dorian Gay!"

"Pardon?" Dorian asked sharply.

"You know, like Dorian Grey? Okay, maybe you're Basil and I'm Dorian- but the thought kinda stands- you are gay, right?"

"Completely," Dorian said and turned his back to select a brush. "One tiramisu should be fine."

So Dorian painted in silence, looking at Roman. And Roman went red at his little glances and checks, just like Dorian wanted. Dorian didn't tease him for it, just reached for a line of red paints he'd set aside before and began mixing. Roman watched him, as he painted. He wasn't too sure if he should have kept a single expression, so he experimented a little. "Do you think I should wink? That could be hot."

"I know which expression I'm doing. I don't think I need help, but I'll tell you if so."

They went for dinner. Roman changed into a red sweatshirt and jeans for it. They shared a tiramisu and a bottle of wine and a round of inside jokes. The next day Dorian painted him again. Dinner that night was Chinese. Roman wore a T-shirt reading 'Clap if you believe in fairies'. When he got excited when a kid clapped at him and Dorian changed his mind about which expression he wanted to paint for a split-second. He was wearing a slightly oversized red sweatshirt because Roman had been boasting about how good a thief he was but hadn't been watching his bag.

They had to wait a week before they met up again, since they were selling the paintings, and they celebrated in The Ivy in Central London. They went to a musical afterwards. They didn't make eye contact during the love songs.

The painting was done in a month. Roman was bursting with curiosity by then, but he resisted trying to sneak a peek at it.

Finally, the day came.

The painting was light and airy, real details blurred as if by nostalgic memory. Except for Roman. He was just subtly bolder than his surroundings, colours brighter, lines more defined. He looked down at his plans, tongue poked out in concentration as his hair fell into his face. The flowers were an elegant slant which outlined the shape of his face and centred that everyday expression of his. He looked beautiful. He looked exactly how Roman felt when he was happy being himself.

A name signed the bottom corner on one of the plans: 'Dorian Smith'.

Roman took a long inhale of breath. He stepped closer and examined every careful brushstroke, every carefully chosen colour, every sign that...Dorian had made this, had painted this for him. "It's the most beautiful painting I've ever seen," he murmured.

"You really think so?" Dorian said quietly. His voice sounded vulnerable, open, and Roman realised he must have sounded the same.

Roman laughed softly. "Now you've given me your name, you know I'm going to have to steal it. Especially since you took more than just my face to do that portrait. I was right with your name after all, wasn't I?"

"I suppose," Dorian said. "What do you mean about stealing my name? Marriage so soon, Peruggia?"

"Hyphenation suits me better," Roman said, turning to Dorian with that characteristic flush rising on his cheeks- "No, I'll show you'll how I'll steal your name. Could I hear you say it?"

A shaky breath in. His heart fluttering in his chest. "Dori-" And Roman stole his name before it even left his lips.

Roman wrapped an arm around him, muscled and strong enough to lift gilt frames and statues, and held Dorian close. A stupid flirtation Dorian had heard in galleries a thousand times popped into his head, the way silly things do when all you want to think about is this one irrepeatable moment- I can't hold your hand, babe, they say not to touch the masterpieces.

But he was. And Roman was.

And Dorian couldn't copy himself a thousand times or find a version of Roman he could risk wrecking. So he brought up his hand, able to tease gold leaf into place and just barely brush a canvas with loving detail, to rest on Roman's cheek with the utmost gentleness as he deepened the kiss.

When they came apart, they grinned at each other in a giddy moment of bliss.

"That was-" "Very smooth-" "Your hand is so soft-" "A wonderful kiss-" "A fantastic kiss-" "Shall we?" "May I?" And they kissed again.

"So..." Dorian said, usual composure kissed into slight breathlessness. "Now you have my name, what are you going to do with it?"

Roman grinned. "Give it back the same way, maybe?"

Dorian shook his head. "Hold it for just a moment."

Roman pouted. "We can't have a serious discussion on an unequal footing! I'm a thief, not an evil man! That would be wrong!"

Dorian hummed. "I do see your point. Alright, give it here."

"Roman-" He looked at Dorian expectantly, but he was waiting. "I'm sorry," Roman said. "Peruggia is realer than the name my family passed down to me."

"I like it," Dorian said quickly. "I'll take it." He tipped his face up and kissed Roman again.

The light filtered bright and glowing across their faces. Dorian asked, "What now?"

Roman replied, "How shocked do you think Dot would be if we started making out at our usual table?" Because Dot and the restaurant were routine, it was making this delicate sketch of the two of them together into something more permanent.

Dorian cackled. "I think she and Larry would come out with popcorn!"

"Then let's do it!" Roman tugged Dorian to the door. He laughed, just because he could. "Great galloping Gauguin! We can do that!"

"Can," Dorian shut the door behind them, "and shall."

"I think I'm going to kiss tiramisu off your nose," Roman said dreamily.

"If you try that I'll break up with you," Dorian threatened, before realising his threat had done the exact opposite of make him look reserved and casual.

"Break up, huh?" Roman nudged him in the ribs. "Is that so? Dear? Darling? My pretty painter?"

Dorian went as red as Roman's sash.

Dot and Larry watched Dorian tug Roman closer by the sash and Roman attempt to lace his fingers through Dorian's hair underneath his bowler hat through the window in the door from the kitchen.

"Ah, young love," Larry sighed. "Inept, but enthusiastic."

"They're both accountants!" Dot said, budging her husband out of the way so she could get a better view. "Not that young."

"Younger than us."

Dot sighed. "So are lots of people."

"You're more beautiful than the day I met you," Larry said. "You've aged like a fine wine...or a cheese."

"Oh." Dot raised a flirtatious eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Let's show those whippersnappers how it's done, Dot!" Larry said with dramatic flair, offering her his hand. "I shall take out the tiramisu with you, and it will be...unbearably romantic!"

"Oh, Larry."

⁂

A month later, 'Declyn' and Roman came to give Dot and Larry a final farewell. They were moving to Italy itself, but they both assured Larry nowhere in the country would have food as good as his.

Two months later, the news hit the headlines that the Mona Lisa had been stolen from the Louvre itself by none other than Roman Peruggia (he left his calling card).

And finally, four months later, the Mona Lisa was returned, completely undamaged, to a little Parisian police station in the dead of night. Those who thought they had purchased her were left with worthless fakes. But what were they going to do, call the police?

Six months later, a few paintings were sent to Dot and Larry. One was of their restaurant, a cheery little piece signed by ‘Declyn’. The other was of a hillside, done in a style remarkably like Van Gogh and even in a frame which had a museum code on the back of it. Larry and Dot thought of their Stitch doll, looked at the nice postcard with the painting, shrugged, and hung it up anyway. The postcard offered to paint Dot and Larry when they met Dorian and Roman again- accounting, they discovered, had never been their true passion.

Two years later, the sun picked out a hillside in Italy in red and gold. The watercolour wash of the sunrise faded into the glinting sea. Cypress trees were wind-swept into Van Gogh swirls; the susurration of their leaves stirred the cool morning air. A crisp dryness in the air promised that it would be hot later.

On the veranda of a spacious house overlooking the view, a man leaned over the railing to gaze at the valley below.

Another padded barefoot out of the house behind with a grin on his face. "Hmm, let me guess...another landscape? You're going to run out of green paint at this point, Basil too-many-Brushes."

Dorian didn't turn from the view. "Oh, I'll run out of paint and brushes a long time before this hillside stops demanding to be painted."

"No, you won't," Roman said with a cocky grin. "I'll buy you all the paint and brushes in the world."

Dorian rolled his eyes and turned to him with a grin of his own. "You know just what I mean, Roman. You haven't a sensitive bone in your body."

"No, I do!" Roman put a hand to his ear, and leaned out to the ocean. "The hill is saying...'Come inside! Roman's put out things for breakfast!'"

"You are..." Dorian said, as soft as the susurration in the trees, "an idiot."

"And which of us is bilingual?"

"Sto imparando," Dorian replied, raising an eyebrow. "And I was talking about art."

"Art, is it?" Roman teased, before holding his hands in a square shape, closing one eye so he could frame Dorian in them. "I think, if I could paint, I could do a nice composition of this. Only your hand could capture your beauty, but I'd make a valiant attempt!"

Dorian felt himself soften, and he didn't think to disguise that in his expression. The feeling was familiar, now. It was no less strong. Just rather than focussing on the choppy waves of flustering or blushing as he used to, he could feel the familiar tug of affection for Roman underneath it. The ocean had filled up his chest, now, and he breathed love as easily as he did air. "You flatter me, dearest."

"Flattery," Roman walked to the railing and wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist, "implies it is untrue." They were quiet for a moment, breathing in tandem as they looked over the view.

"And what will you do today?" Dorian asked Roman.

Roman hummed. "I'm going to try the tiramisu recipe again-"

"You're such a sweet-toothed child-"

"Shut up, I know. And then I'm going to have a look to see how Create is using our money. Maybe find somewhere else, do some in-depth research as to where it can go." Millions and millions of dollars and pounds and euros had been very appealing, but the scale of it hadn't much occurred to Roman when he began working for the thrill of the chase and a new persona for himself. Now, he'd decided to semi-retire and play the crooked philanthropist.

"I'll help you later, dear," Dorian said. "I might paint first...maybe I should paint myself out here. Would you take a photo?"

Roman popped inside for his phone, came out again and made Dorian pose, taking some pictures. He put it down, patting his other jacket pocket. "Love," he said, a little too casual, "you haven't done a self-portrait before. Why now?"

Dorian shrugged. He had an essay of reasons why, but he chose the simplest and final line because he thought Roman could guess at the rest quite well. "Whyever not?"

So he printed out the photo and set up his easel, and Roman lay on his stomach on the floor beside him, reading articles and sending emails. He wouldn't let Roman see it until it was finished, as with any of his original paintings - he was still something of a perfectionist.

A few weeks later, they were in much the same position, only the sunset was shining outside and Roman was watching Disney with earbuds in. Dorian swore lying on the floor like that couldn't be comfortable, but Roman was like a cat - he just wanted to be in the same space as his boyfriend and seemed to have a spine made out of rubber.

Dorian sighed and rinsed his brush, then rolled his shoulders out. "Alright, there we are."

Roman pulled an earbud out. "What- did you say- to-o me?"

"If that was meant to be 'I'll Make a Man Out Of You', I'm unimpressed," Dorian said, rolling his shoulders out. "I'm finished."

Roman's eyes widened. "Oh, all done already? That was fast!"

"Well, it is a tiny canvas. I just need to let it dry and sign it-"

Roman let out an audible sigh of relief, shutting his laptop. "I'm going to put this in our room! To charge it!" He bolted out of the room with his laptop under his arm.

Dorian's eyes narrowed, then a wicked grin crossed his face. He stretched his wrists out once more, then darted through to a side-table and slipped something from there into his pocket before stepping back to the side of his easel with an innocent smile.

Roman skidded back into the room before casually sauntering over to his boyfriend. "So, what are you going to sign the portrait?"

Dorian smirked and got down on one knee, pulling out a ring box and flipping it open. "I don't know, Roman. Dorian Peruggia-Smith has a ring to it, no?"

Roman's mouth dropped open. "You little-" He pulled out his own ring box as he went red. "You stole my line!"

"You stole my heart," Dorian replied smoothly.

"This isn't fair..." Roman whined, but he was fighting a smile.

Dorian plucked the ring out from its setting. It was a ruby inlaid in gold. He held his hand out for Roman's, but Roman replied by dropping to his own knee and taking out a gold band wrought like a snake.

"Dorian, you are-" he said quickly so Dorian wouldn't thwart him again- "You are- you are so perfectly yourself, now, and now felt so right because- you saw me, and I wanted to show how I see you- and I do, I see you and I love you- and I'm so happy you can see you and be proud of you too-"

He took Dorian's hand and slid the ring onto his finger.

"The ring is perfect," Dorian said softly. "Your speech was perfect. Could I show you my painting?"

Roman got to his feet, and helped Dorian up, watching the ring on his- his fiancé's hand.

Dorian was incredibly articulate. He could pull on a persona with a costume, talk about art history for hours, and flirt with Roman and tease him until he blushed. But the very big emotions? They were so hard to phrase. They felt like they turned to fakes in his mouth, so overdone they weren't worth anything anymore. So he took Roman's hand and led him to his original painting, and hoped he would understand.

The painting was of the photo Roman had taken, but it had widened to include Roman taking the phone photo too. It was looser and freer than his usual style, the side of his face was indistinct and Roman had his back turned to the viewer. The trees swirled, the sea gleamed, but the sunrise did not come from the east. Rather it came from Roman.

He glowed gold, and it emanated from him in a soft glow which faded to a gentle red. It picked out the detail around Dorian like a halo.

Dorian watched Roman's part as he looked at it, the soft, "Oh." of his lips.

"Do you understand?" Which is often the question we're too afraid to ask those we hope love us.

Roman shook his head. "You glow too. You're iridescent. It's not from me."

Just because someone loves us, it does not mean they can read our mind.

Dorian shook his head. "I know. It's that... you centre me. You help me see more clearly...I feel like- I am all myself, and I could be myself without you. But you help pick out the good parts in me, the real parts of me. I could do a twin of this, if you like? If you're so sure I glow?"

"I'd like that very much," Roman said, holding out his hand to Dorian. Dorian slipped the ring on. They held each other's hands and leaned in to kiss one another, and the evening sun slipped down into the cerulean sea and backlit them in a wash of light.

⁂

Dorian knew that he was a good forger because he could get the sense of any piece, he could disappear completely into another artist's thoughts and feelings. He was not the best at them. He could never study one artist well enough to become a master.

He was not the best at originals, either. He wasn't sure how he could be. They showed his own thoughts, his own feelings, and nobody could tell how accurate they were to him. Maybe Roman. Not always. There was no metric to measure them to, no guide to help him, nothing but his own intuition and decades of practice of different techniques.

But Roman had demanded painting. He thought that if he could paint Roman, he could paint anything in the world. When he looked back at that first painting, he saw how much of his husband he had left out. So, he practiced painting everything so he could finally capture his thief - a still life of a drooping rose for his cheeks, an explosive modern piece for his passion, a detailed cityscape to practice detail. He'd never got one perfect yet.

So he tried to paint Roman, over and over, and in his practice of landscape and abstracts and flights of fancy, Dorian ended up painting himself, realer and realer, every day.

#roceit #ts fic #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #partners to lovers #thief roman sanders #forger deceit sanders

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overwatch-imagines-hub · 5 years

Note

New follower here! :D I love your work! As for a request? I was wondering how Zenyatta, McCree, Reaper, Soldier, and Mercy would be with an artist s/o. They're super shy and don't show off their work often but one day s/o decides to show their partner a drawing they did of them? I hope you have a lovely day/night~!

This is me if anyone wants to date

I’m also pretty sure I’ve done a piece like this in the past? If I find it (probably on my Wattpad because that’s easier to maneuver than Tumblr), I’ll link it!

Sorry for the long wait; school and all. Welcome to the blog (sorry again for the inactivity

Like what I do? Leave me a tip!

~~~

Zenyatta

You drew him while he was working in the sanctuary

It’s a picture from your perspective at one of the smaller of the mismatched dining tables

Zen is helping a group of children gather plates of food, either to eat themselves or to carry back to their families

It takes you a while to decide that you’re going to show him the piece, being shy about your work and all

After a long day of work, Zenyatta comes to you with the notion that he sometimes feels like he’s not doing enough

Even some days the brightest light can dim sometimes and Zenyatta is no exception

It’s then that you decide to buck up and show him your work, hoping to prove to him that his notion is wrong

You don’t expect a whole lot in response but are quickly proven wrong

Zenyatta is touched to point where, if he was human, he’d probably tear up

Not only by the meaning of you showing him but by the fact that you care enough about him to show him your work despite your shyness

He’s also greatly impressed by your work, and tells you so

He wants to keep the piece as a keepsake, to remind him that his work matters even during darker days

If you let him take it, he keeps it pinned to his room’s wall, above his personal indoor meditation area

Traveling, he packs the piece up and carries it as a keepsake

McCree

The piece you drew was of Jesse cleaning his Peacekeeper after getting home from a long mission

It was just a soft, quiet moment and the lighting was great; you couldn’t help yourself

He probably noticed you drawing him not long after you started, resulting in him flashing crooked smiles and locking eyes with you whenever you looked over at him

He also probably finished cleaning his gun before you were done drawing but made the executive decision to keep pretending do so, so you didn’t lose your muse

When you’re pleased with the finished product, you relax

Only to see your gentle cowman trying to peek over despite being on the far side of the room

Of course, he always respects your wishes and never presses if you choose not to show your work

That doesn’t mean, however, he won’t give you puppy eyes every time to try and convince you to do so

This time, you just so happen to be in a good enough mood to not mind, not to mention he’s been practically watching you the entire time when not trying to be your muse

When you get up to show him, he’s very excited

He’s your biggest fan, regardless of how often he gets to see your work

He just loves experiencing what makes you happy with you

Loses his damn mind when he sees the work you did

Genuinely impressed with and excited about your work

He’s just Like That

Wants to hang it somewhere in the house if you’re alright with it

Will definitely try to keep it whether you want him to or not

If you try to take it from him, it will probably result in a wild goose chase around the house

Even if you manage to get it back from him, the next day it will probably end up framed in the living room

Reaper

The piece is of Reaper working in his office late at night

He’s still wearing his uniform and hard at work doing paperwork

You’re tired, bored, and, unless you have a tablet or sketchbook on you, are probably doodling said piece on a napkin or the back of scratch paper

You’re sharing his desk and kinda sleepy, so Gabe’s able to catch a glance of what you’re on occasion

During this time, Gabe has probably suggested once or twice you going home instead of staying up until ungodly hours with him, to no avail

Your sleepiness is what gives you the courage to show him your art

Which he is in awe of, but also flustered by

There’s a very clear sentiment to your work, with the fact that you decided to draw him at all and even decided to show him

Considers better than any photo that has been taken of him, especially in his Reaper uniform

He asks if he can keep it, and if you, in your sleep-induced haze, allow him to, he keeps the original piece hidden away in his desk for when he’s having a day that’s rougher than usual

Lowkey wants to pay you for your efforts and thinks it’s not fair that he gets to have your work without you getting anything in return

But that’s something he’ll talk with you about when you’re not half-asleep

If you let him, Gabe will make a blown up copy of it and use it as his official Talon image

Soldier 76

You thought it would be funny to draw the grumpy, hardworking man in a cute, cartoon-y style

In the image, Jack’s in his uniform and poised to fire at an enemy off the page, very serious despite his current cute stature

You think the finished product is amusing enough to show him

You just kind of track him down, push your piece into his face, and ask him what he thinks

Of course, he loves your art and as someone who doesn’t draw immensely well unless it’s battle plans, he’s impressed

However

“Why is my head so large and why are my arms and legs so tiny?”

When you tell him you thought it’d be fun to draw his grumpy self in a contrasting cute state, a teasing argument breaks out on whether or not he’s actually that grumpy

Mister Soldier “I’m not grumpy; everyone’s just stupid” (AKA “I’m an old man” 76 everybody

Once that settles, he asks if you’re giving it to him or not

If so, he’ll take it and keep it on his at-home office desk

If you prefer to keep it, he tells you that’s fine, compliments your work, and then gives you a smooch on the forehead

If neither of you are busy, you’ll probably hang out and snuggle for a bit too, until Jack’s inevitable workaholic tendencies creep up

Then it’s time to do everything in your power to convince him not to do the thing and stay for more cuddles instead

Mercy

You drew her while the two of you were lounging around on one of her few days off

She’s curled up in the cozy armchair next to the couch, wrapped in a blanket and wearing comfy clothes that she doesn’t usually get to wear

Reading one book from the several stacks of miscellaneous reading materials that sit on almost every flat surface in her humble home

If she wasn’t a literal goddess, you’d probably consider her a goblin among her hoard

Although, a dragon would make sense too

Yes, and dragons are prettier too

Angela’s definitely a beautiful, intimidating, take-no-shit, dragon with a book-hoarding problem

After your weird self-debate, you chuckle and make a mental note to draw your girlfriend as a dragon at some point

Your little giggle catches said girlfriend’s attention and she gives you a questioning quirked-brow and small smile look over the brim of her book’s cover

It’s a quiet moment and neither of you really want to break the silence fully, so you just smile back and shake your head a bit before turning your piece to give her a quick peak

To which Angela’s response is to break the silence and tell you that it’s gorgeous

She also adds that you were probably weren’t laughing at that, then asks if she can see the piece properly

You hand it to her after she saves her place in her book

You get to watch her marvel at it a bit, gently running her fingers over the lines, before telling her about your dragon idea

Angela cackles and warns that you better make her a pretty dragon, to which you promise you will

She mentions that she’d love to see that piece when you’re done as well

Now it’s up to you to chase your shyness away for long enough to show her

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picturebookmakers · 4 years

Text

Axel Scheffler

In this post, Axel takes us on a journey through his art studio and career. As well as sharing wonderful development work from some of his much-loved picturebooks, he shows us unseen sketchbook pages, early illustration commissions, etchings he made as a student, and his recent work to educate children about the coronavirus.

Visit Axel Scheffler’s website

Axel: I’m not really sure how many books I’ve illustrated in the 30+ years that I’ve been working. Over 150. I mostly work for the UK market, but occasionally I do books with German publishers. Not picturebooks though, so nothing that collides with the co-edition market.

Each of the boxes you see here contains one of my books: the sketches, illustrations, dummies, alternate versions of covers, everything.

I organised these boxes with Liz, my assistant, to have all the main books there so we can find things for exhibitions. There’s still lots of drawings in these boxes which aren’t sorted yet. Liz is such a great help, but it’s very difficult for me to keep on top of everything. I think I would probably need two Lizes, or perhaps three.

So yes, I don’t really know where to begin... I’ve got endless sketchbooks and little drawings on paper. I’ve got some really old sketchbooks I could show you.

Shall we start with The Gruffalo?

My early sketches of the Gruffalo were thought by my editor to be too scary for small children. So I had to make him a bit rounder and more ‘cuddly’. Initially, I‘d also thought that all the animals would be wearing clothes, as they often do in picturebooks. But Julia had different ideas, and to be honest I was relieved. How would I have dressed the snake?

Here’s some spreads from the dummy...

I tried a lot of alternate covers for this book; I think there were twelve in total. There’s some where the Gruffalo doesn’t even feature on the cover.

My latest book with Julia is called ‘The Smeds and The Smoos’. It was quite nice to work on because it’s so different from the other books we’ve done together. The text is a bit like a mixture between Dr Seuss and Lewis Carol; it has this nonsense element. But it’s basically Romeo and Juliet in outer space.

It’s an alien story, so I didn’t have to draw any rabbits or squirrels for a change, and I could invent more. I had more freedom. But like always, I got bored with drawing the same characters over and over again. But that’s picturebooks.

There was quite a lot of development work in the case of this book. But when it’s a story about a fox or a squirrel, I don’t do this kind of stuff. Over the years, it’s become much quicker and easier working on my books. I do far less research than I used to. Now I generally just do a quick pencil sketch then go straight to artwork.

Sometimes I have to start again because things go wrong though. This was a finished piece that was abandoned. I think I suddenly thought that the rocket was far too big or something. I do that; I work on something for ages, and then I suddenly look at it from a distance and realise that something needs redoing.

Did you spot the little Gruffalo in this picture? Since ‘The Snail and the Whale’, I’ve hidden a Gruffalo in each of my books with Julia (not ‘The Ugly Five’ though).

For almost all of the books Julia and I have done together, our editor has been Alison Green. We’re an old established team. And I’ve always worked with the publisher Kate Wilson; I followed her from Macmillan to Scholastic, and then to Nosy Crow. Julia moved from Macmillan to Scholastic, and decided to stay there. So Julia and I have some of our joint titles with Macmillan and some with Scholastic. Julia does books with other illustrators for Macmillan, and I illustrate other books for Nosy Crow.

People often ask me which of the books I’ve done with Julia is my favourite. It’s quite hard to choose, but I enjoyed working on ‘The Smartest Giant in Town’. I liked the way I could do a crazy world with animals, giants, fairytale characters, everything mixed together without anyone caring or questioning it. I’ll show you a few things from the box...

For this book, the cover was changed at the last minute. The original design had the title written on a poster stuck on a brick wall, but the sales people said they wanted a landscape, so I did another one. Years later, they used the original design for a new paperback edition, so it wasn’t completely wasted in the end.

I mentioned my endless sketchbooks earlier. I’ll show you a few of them. This was mainly me playing around without thinking about what I was doing; it wasn’t a conscious thing.

I haven’t looked at these sketchbooks for ages. It was such a long time ago. I don’t work in sketchbooks like this anymore, and I no longer doodle. But for fun, I make illustrated envelopes for friends.

I often think about doing a book with just pictures, but I’m always too busy doing other things. Posthumously, perhaps there will be time to do this. I’d also love to experiment and be more spontaneous; it’s been my dream for decades to do something completely different. But when I receive a book project, I always feel under pressure to finish it, and I’m always late with everything, so I end up doing it the way I’ve always done it.

This is my drawing table, which is and always has been too small and too messy. I think I have to accept it will always be this way.

I use Saunders Waterford paper for my illustrations. It’s funny how we all have our special paper. My rough sketches are often quite small, so I have them blown up to the correct size. Then I trace the sketches on a lightbox onto my watercolour paper. After that, I draw the outlines in black ink with a dip pen. I colour everything with Ecoline inks using brushes, and then coloured pencils on top of it (I use Faber Polychromos and Prismacolour crayons). I might then need to redraw some of the black lines, or use some white gouache for highlights.

I studied History of Art in Hamburg, but left before graduating. I realised this wasn’t what I was good at; I’m not an academic.

Then I had to do my alternative service as conscientious objector. Sixteen months. There was still conscription then; that’s how old I am. I worked with mentally ill people in their homes. It was during this time that I had a friend studying ceramics at Bath Academy of Art in England. I went to visit her. I really didn’t know what else to do, so I thought maybe I could move to Bath and go to the art school. So this is what I did. The course was Visual Communications, so it was design, printmaking, photography, all that stuff. But I realised I only wanted to do illustration.

I’d gone to art college hoping to learn something. I don’t think that necessarily happened, but drawing intensively for three years was, I think, what I had needed to do. I don’t remember actually finishing any projects though.

Here’s some drawings from my student sketchbooks. I did lots of observational drawing back then, which I don’t anymore. I did it then because they told us to. I’m an obedient person!

While I was a student, I did an exchange in New York: Cooper Union Art College for three months. These drawings are of Jewish immigrants, meeting for coffee. It was 1984, so many of them were still alive; refugees from Germany or Austria. I heard them speaking German, so that’s how I knew.

Sketchbooks are such a good way of memorising things. Nobody really knows about these sketchbooks; I used to take them to interviews, but they’ve been hidden away for years.

After I graduated, I moved to London and took my portfolio around. My art teacher had suggested I should do this to get work, so that’s what I did. In those days, you had to ring them and ask to come around. I got two commissions straight away, and it’s been busy ever since, really. I’ve always had something to do.

Here’s some of my early commissions. Starting from 1985, I guess. Very pointy noses...

I did so much of this kind of work. It was a good way of earning money quickly. Occasionally, I still do editorial. I did some Brexit drawings for the remain campaign. Sadly, it didn’t help. Maybe I wrecked everything!

I’ll say a few words about the KIND book... 38 wonderful artists donated a picture to illustrate some of the many ways children can be kind. Such as sharing their toys or helping people from other countries to feel welcome.

One pound from each book sold goes to the Three Peas charity, which supports refugees from war-torn countries. It’s been a big success so far, and Three Peas has received a lot of money from sales in the UK and co-editions.

I’d quite like to do the UNKIND book next! I think illustrators would probably enjoy that, but I don’t imagine it would sell very well.

And now for something completely different! Some etchings I made when I was a student.

People often ask me which illustrators I’m inspired by. I don’t seek any direct influence on my work, but I’ve always said that Tomi Ungerer had the greatest influence on my approach to illustration. Although his style is quite different to mine, this humour and wackiness is something that has always appealed to me. And the details.

William Steig is someone I got into later, when I was already illustrating. And Edward Gorey of course. And Saul Steinberg. I think the Czech artist Jiří Šalamoun is wonderful. And I like Eva Lindström from Sweden a lot. She’s so great.

Okay, to finish with I’ll talk about the coronavirus work I’ve been doing...

I asked myself what I could do as a children’s illustrator to inform, as well as entertain, my readers here and abroad about the coronavirus. So I was glad when Nosy Crow asked me to illustrate a book on the subject. I think it’s extremely important for children and families to have access to reliable information in this unprecedented crisis.

You can download the free digital book in English here, and in over 60 other languages here.

I also wanted to do something light-hearted to cheer people up, and I thought, “What if I imagine some of our characters in corona situations?” Julia liked the idea and wrote rhymes for the new scenes. This was really more about entertainment than serious information.

Artwork and verse © Axel Scheffler and Julia Donaldson 2020. Based on characters from ‘The Gruffalo’s Child’ (2004), ‘Charlie Cook’s Favourite Book’ (2005), ‘The Smartest Giant in Town’ (2002), and ‘The Gruffalo’ (1999) — © Macmillan Children’s Books.

And here’s one more thing: my ‘letter from lockdown’. On The Children’s Bookshow website, you’ll find lockdown letters from lots of other wonderful authors and illustrators.

Buy this picturebook

The Gruffalo

Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler

Macmillan Children’s Books, UK, 1999

‘A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood. A fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good.’

Walk further into the deep dark wood, and discover what happens when a quick-witted mouse comes face to face with an owl, a snake... and a hungry Gruffalo!

‘The Gruffalo’ has become a bestselling phenomenon across the world. This award-winning rhyming story of a mouse and a monster is now a modern classic, and will enchant children for years to come.

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES & DIALECTS

Afrikaans

Albanian

Arabic

Australian

Azerbaijani

Basque

Belarusian

Bengali

Breton

Bulgaria

Catalan

Chinese (Simplified)

Chinese (Traditional)

Corsu

Croatian

Czech

Danish

Doric

Dundonian

Dutch

English

Esperanto

Estonian

Faroese

Farsi

Finnish

French

Frisian

Gaelic

Galician

Georgian

German

Glasgow Scots

Greek

Guernésiais

Hebrew

Hindi

Hungarian

Iceland

Indonesian

Irish

Italian

Jèrriais

Kazakh

Kölsch

Korean

Latin

Latvian

Lithuanian

Low German

Lowland Scots

Luxembourgish

Macedonian

Maltese

Manx Gaelic

Maori

Marathi

Mexican Spanish

Mongolian

Norwegian

Orcadian Scots

Polish

Portuguese

Portuguese (Brazil)

Romanian

Russian

Sami

Schwabisch

Serbian

Sesotho

Setswana

Shetland Scots

Slovakian

Slovenian

Spanish

Swedish

Swiss German

Tamil

Thai

Turkish

Ukrainian

US English

Vietnamese

Welsh

Xhosa

Zulu

Buy this picturebook

The Smeds and The Smoos

Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler

Alison Green Books, UK, 2019

The Smeds (who are red) never mix with the Smoos (who are blue). So when a young Smed and Smoo fall in love, their families disapprove.

But peace is restored and love conquers all in this happiest of love stories. There’s even a gorgeous purple baby to celebrate!

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES

Afrikaans

Catalan

Croatian

Dutch

English

Finnish

French

German

Hebrew

Hungarian

Italian

Korean

Luxenbourghish

Polish

Russian

Slovenian

Spanish

Swedish

Turkish

Ukrainian

Buy this picturebook

Kind

Alison Green, Axel Scheffler & 38 illustrators

Alison Green Books, UK, 2019

Imagine a world where everyone is kind; how can we make that come true? With gorgeous pictures by a host of top illustrators, KIND is a timely, inspiring picturebook about the many ways children can be kind, from sharing their toys and games, to helping those from other countries feel welcome.

One pound from the sale of each printed copy will go to the Three Peas charity, which gives vital help to refugees from war-torn countries.

PUBLISHED IN THE FOLLOWING LANGUAGES

Bulgarian

Catalan

Chinese (Simplified)

Chinese (Traditional)

English

French

German

Greek

Hebrew

Italian

Korean

Netherlands

Portuguese (Brazil)

Romanian

Spanish

Swedish

Turkish

Vietnamese

#Germany / UK

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bigherosixfeels · 7 years

Note

Hey hey :) I was wondering if you could make a Hiro x reader fan fic? I have this cute vision in my mind that a cute and sweet girl comes to the lucky cat cafe, and drinks cocoa and draws an outstanding drawing that captures Hiro's attention and they end up having a nice conversation and becomes friends? Just an idea :)

Aw, that sounds so adorable!

Eye For Art

Fandom: Big Hero 6

Rating: K

Characters: Hiro Hamada and the Reader

Word Count: 1,270

Summary: anon makes it clear :)

Taking another sip of your warm, steamy cocoa, you cherished the peaceful scenery before you. A charming and quiet, yet popular cafe felt like the perfect spot for you to complete a daily drawing. Placing your mug down, you reached over for your purse, unzipping it to take out your sketchbook. You flipped through the pages, quickly admiring your past work before finding a blank page.

The only thing you questioned was what you were going to draw. Perhaps your half empty cocoa mug. Or maybe that old lady sitting in the corner, staring out the window. The more you looked around the room, the more potential you saw for drawing. Grabbing your purse again, you took out your phone, snapping a quick picture of the view in front of you.

You began to draw, starting with the tables. Once those were finished you sketched in the chairs and those that were sitting in them. Looking at the picture you took, you smiled seeing the middle-aged woman who gave you your drink taking someone else’s order. This small detail would definitely add to how inviting this little cafe is.

Unfortunately, you grew frustrated drawing this woman. You couldn’t seem to get her short, wavy hair the way you wanted and her proportions didn’t turn out right. Erasing yet another failed attempt, you decided to move on and draw the counter. Sketching the pastries inside seemed to be a lot less challenging. Working your way up from that, you drew in an employee cleaning the counter and the menu board on the wall.

The overall sketch was nearly complete. All you had to do now was sketch in the walls, flooring and somehow draw the cafe owner to your liking. Putting your pencil down, you took your last sip of cocoa; automatically feeling more calm about the final touches to your illustration.

As you started drawing in the walls, you couldn’t help, but feel as if you were being watched. You initially shook this odd feeling away. It was possible that another customer was just standing behind you and would leave soon. Though that wasn’t the case. Curiosity built up inside you, so you turned around to see if anyone was, in fact, within your radius.

Sure enough, someone was behind you, but it was no customer. It turned out to be one the employees with a tub full of dishes at his side. Although he was a bit of a distance away, he still had his eyes locked on your sketchbook. Despite knowing someone had been watching, it still shocked you enough to jump in your chair.

This took the raven-haired boy aback. He hadn’t expected you to turn around or be so startled by his presence. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, his free hand now rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I-I was just looking at your drawing. You’re really good.”

Despite still being tensed up from the shock of someone looming over you, you were flattered by this compliment. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t think of you were that great of an artist. Hearing positive feedback on your work, even over something as simple as a rough sketch, helped motivate you.

“Really?” You asked, your voice still slightly shaken from being spooked. “Wow, thanks! This isn’t my best work, but I’m glad you like it.”

The boy rose a brow at you before examining your unfinished work. You felt a little self conscious of him doing so, but the grin on his face reassured you otherwise. “Are you kidding? This is really cool. I’ve never seen anyone draw the cafe before.” He chuckled to himself, continuing to admire your work. As his eyes wandered around the page, a certain detail seemed to catch his attention. “Hey…is that…me?”

Looking to where the employee was pointing, you could tell just by the hair alone that it was him in your drawing. “Oh uh yeah…that is you,” you confirmed. “I took a picture a little while ago and you were by the counter. I hope it’s okay.”

You thought maybe he had a problem being drawn at first, but you were proven wrong by the laugh he gave you. “It’s cool. No one’s ever drawn me before. I think I turned out well.”

You managed a soft giggle in return. “I wish I could say the same about the owner. I can’t seem to get her to look right at all.”

“Don’t worry about that. Aunt Cass would be thrilled to know that someone drew her no matter how it turned out.”

His aunt? You thought to yourself. Now I really want to get her done right. “If you say so.” For some reason, you had expected the conversation to have ended by now, but it didn’t. In fact, you were actually enjoying talking to this employee. He seemed friendly and genuinely interested in your work. As busy as he seemed with work, you wanted to keep talking with him, even if it would be cut short. “So, are you much of an artist?”

Shrugging, the boy said, “Not really. I’m more into robotics, but I do have to draw sketches whenever I make something.” He glanced over to the empty chair across from you. “Do you mind if I…” he trailed off, walking closer towards the seat.

“Not at all.”

Placing the tub of dishes to the floor, he sat down, reaching for his notepad and pen. You watched as he quickly started to doodle away. You had to admit, you were impressed. He was drawing with a pen and didn’t seem to make any major mistakes with…well you weren’t sure what he was drawing. Having this quick sketch be a surprise was a little exciting.

“Alright, here it is,” he announced, turning the notepad around. A smile grew on your face seeing the his fast sketch of what looked to be a rather plump cat.

“Cute,” you told him, appreciating how well the doodle appeared despite how little time he spent on it. Nonetheless it was actually done well. The fur looked fluffy and the bell for a collar was a nice detail to add. “You know, if robotics doesn’t work out for you, you’d make a good artist.”

The boy shook his head at you followed by a comical eye roll. “I never considered that possibility, but I’ll keep it in mind. Besides, I’ve gotten used to drawing Mochi by now.”

You would have laughed, but a thought had just occurred to you. You had been talking to this employee for at least ten minutes now and you hadn’t even introduced yourself yet. Of course, you hadn’t originally planned to do so, but given that your conversation was going so well, it only felt like the right thing to do.

“I’m (Y/N) by the way,” giving him a proper introduction.

“Hiro,” he happily exchanged. He held out his hand in a manner of wanting to give you a handshake. However, right as you were about to, a loud voice called out Hiro’s name.

“Enough chit chatting with the customers, Hiro!” His aunt lightly scolded. “I need those dishes washed!”

“Oh uh right!” Hiro scrambled to get out of his chair. Grabbing the tub as fast as he could, he reached over for your finished mug of cocoa. “It was nice meeting you!” He yelled in your direction. “Good luck on the drawing!”

You couldn’t help, but smile. As you got back into your rhythm of sketching, you felt grateful for making a new friend because of this still uncompleted piece.

This was so fun to write! I can definitely see Hiro befriending someone over a drawing. Thanks anon for the request! I hope you enjoyed it :D

#fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfiction #bh6 fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfic #bh6 fanfic #hiro #hiro hamada #hiro x reader #reader x hiro #platonic x reader #platonic!reader #big hero 6 #bh6 #anonymous

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beanwaitingforya · 7 years

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Daisuga Art Students AU Part 2

*drops this here quietly* I still don’t have a name for this halp? Inspired by @priintaniere‘s CUTE ADORABLE ART

Part 1 Here and Part 3 Here

Note: This is from Sugawara’s POV, more notes at end, and this is pretty much unedited whoops, all mistakes are mine

Sugawara Koushi does not have crushes. He's had a few flings, to be sure, but nothing ever serious. Nothing that ever made his skin burn with excitement or had him dancing on his toes. He maintains this stance when his friend visits him at his part-time job working at the campus library. He's sitting at the front counter, doodling on a scrap of paper while he waits for someone to check out books, when Yaku Morisuke barrels inside. He leans against the tall desk, just barely able to rest his arms on the counter. "Suga, you would NOT believe what Kuroo said, I can't even - Hey, you're drawing that guy again!" Yaku stops mid-sentence to point at Suga's latest doodle, not much more than the back of a head and a well-defined back. Suga absentmindedly erases a bit, then thickens a few lines. "What?" "You know, muscles guy. You're always drawing this same dude. Anyway, will you listen to this? Kuroo said he'd wait for me after practice, but ditched me for Kenma again, the bastard -" Yaku kept talking but Sugawara wasn't listening. Muscles guy? Who was he even talking about? He supposed the dark-haired man he was currently drawing looked a bit familiar, but that wasn't too surprising. He flipped over the scrap of paper to some doodles he had done at breakfast and sure enough it was the same guy, dark, closely cropped hair, wide shoulders, and muscles. He was still admiring the biceps he had drawn when Yaku's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. He tugged on Suga's sweater and pointed over his shoulder. "Hey, is that the guy? The one you've been drawing for weeks?" he hissed. Two guys with oversized art portfolios and messenger bags had just walked in, claiming a large table by the small corner cafe. One was tall, wearing a long coat, and had long hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other was wearing a dark beanie and navy hoodie. They had their backs to the counter, but looked strangely familiar... "What, the tall one with the longish hair? No, that's not the same guy-" Long-haired dude sat down while the other guy dropped his bags, taking off the beanie and ruffling his hair. As he turned to stand in line for the cafe, Suga finally caught a glimpse of his face. "It's him," Suga whispered. Sawamura Daichi, the subject of his sketches, was standing in line for coffee, just twenty feet away. "Yaku, stop staring!" Suga hissed. "Oho, he's pretty good looking. You should tell him to join the volleyball team, I'm sure Kuroo and Bokuto would enjoy that. That other guy is pretty tall too." Yaku ignored Suga to contemplate the stranger's ability. "We could use a few wing spikers-" "Yaku, cut it out, go home or go study!" Suga scolded. He was saved by a girl with an armload of books. "Shoo, I've got work now, Yaku!" He smiled at the girl while delivering a chop to Yaku's head. She looked slightly alarmed, but quietly handed over her mountain of books while Yaku sulked out the front doors. Sugawara was absorbed in scanning, so he didn't notice a familiar figure in line until he stepped up. "Hey, Sugawara. Didn't know you worked here," Daichi said quietly. A soft, gentle smile appeared on his face, and Suga was taken by surprise. He seemed much more...serious, the last time they were paired together for drawing class. Daichi handed over a few large books, then stuffed his hands into the large pocket of his hoodie while he waited. "Oh, you remember me! It's been a few weeks, huh? Yeah, this is my part-time job." He took the books from Daichi to scan. "It's a pretty easy job, and I can do some work if it's really slow here. These are over-size, so make sure to bring them back in two weeks to return or renew, instead of the usual four, okay?" He stamped the card on the inside of each book.

"Yeah, sure. How often do you work here? My friend, Asahi, will probably drag me back to study for the art history exam later this week." Daichi gathered his books as Sugawara finished scanning them. "Uh, just a couple of days a week. My next shift is on Saturday though, same time. I have that exam too! You must be in the Tuesday-Thursday class, right? I'm on Wednesdays and Fridays," Sugawara replied. "Yikes, that's a late shift," Daichi chuckled. His eyes crinkled, and Suga got the sudden urge to sketch the little smile lines on Daichi's face. Suga shook his head, partly to rid himself of the feeling, and partly to answer Daichi. "Well, if you're free, Asahi and I will be studying here all week, you're welcome to join us. He complains that when we study at work we always get flour over our stuff." Flour? "Ah, I'll take you up on that!" Another person began walking up with an armload of books, but Suga didn't want the conversation to end. He scribbled his contact information on a corner of the scrap paper he had hastily stuffed under a textbook and handed it to Daichi. "Just shoot me a message whenever you're planning on studying. Sorry, I should help..." his voice trailed off. Daichi looked over his shoulder, eyebrows rising when he noticed a line forming. "Ah, sorry, for keeping you. I'll let you get back to work, Sugawara." He turned to leave, but Suga called out to him one more time. "Just Suga is fine!"

He was hushed by three impatient people in line, his coworker at the desk beside him, and his conscience.

He spent the rest of the evening putting books away, checking books out for people, and sneaking glances at Daichi, and wondering why in the world they had flour at work.

Scratch that last part, he couldn't even believe his staring was subtle at all, he was just incredibly lucky that Daichi was intent on passing his art history exam. He had given up on scribbling on his small scrap of paper, so he dumped out a few sketchbooks from his bag, putting back the ones used exclusively for class. Computer graphics was a spiral bound, black cover that he slid back into his bag. His art history notebook had normal notes so he stuffed that one back into his bag as well. He finally selected a plain brown flip book, the size of a paper back and opened it to the first few pages.

Shit, Yaku was right. Sure enough, the pages and doodles all starred one Sawamura Daichi. How did he even manage to draw him this much when they barely saw each other even with one shared class? Why had he drawn his hands so much? As he flipped through page after page, Suga's heart sunk. I've got it bad, he thought. Real bad.

~~~

Suga had spent his precious few nights off attempting to study at the library with Daichi and Asahi. Attempting because as much as he tried to study, he just ended up doodling Daichi's smile, Daichi's hands, Daichi's neck, and Daichi eating a granola bar. He adjusted his scarf and his notebook, angling it slightly in his lap as he settled into a large plush chair. They had chosen a quiet corner of the library after Asahi had said the cafe smelled too much like work - apparently the two worked at a bakery down the street.

They hadn't realized he spent the whole time sketching, so Suga figured it was fine to continue...discretely.

But he hadn't anticipated Daichi asking to see his work himself. Asahi had just gotten up to get another coffee when Daichi had slid his chair over to Suga's. Suga quickly flipped the page, covering a doodle of Daichi's ankle, only to find another of the back of his head. Shit, really me? His face colored slightly as he shut the notebook completely.

"Hey, Suga." Daichi whispered. Suga looked up, cocking his head to the side with a tentative smile.

"You might as well call me Daichi, Asahi does anyway." Suga let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "And, this might be a bit forward of me, but well-" Daichi rubbed the back of his head, why was he so damn cute all the time? "I'd like to ask you something, if it's okay." Suga nodded, but he had a bad feeling creep up his spine. Suga knew what Daichi was going to ask.

He knew and was still sweating. He ran a hand through his messy hair, prepared to come up with an excuse, any excuse, but he was still drawing a blank. Daichi was going to see and realize he had the biggest crush on him, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He already felt the heat creeping up his neck, and Suga clutched at his scarf, clenching his teeth so hard he swore he could hear them rattling.

"Suga, could I see your sketchbook?"

Bean says: omfgsurghlsighvbneawrig it took so long? So I realized the stuff I had originally written for a part 2 were boring and hard to write because THERE WAS NO CLIMAX OR ANYTHING you know like problem -> solution type of resolution and while this doesn’t exactly have resolution I feel like it’s better than whatever I had before haha. So basically I scrapped the old part and rewrote the whole part (which was not too bad since it’s not so long). ALSO my tenses are probably all over the place welp @_@ ALSO I PROMISED A CUTE ANON I’D HAVE THIS DONE BY THIS WEEKEND I HOPE YOU ENJOY I WISH I COULD TAG YOU

<3 Bean

#beanscribbles #haikyuu!!#hq fanfic #daisuga #art student au #priintaniere #beanwaitingforya #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi

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