Feb 19, 2019
personal moodboard for @chaosprince
How sweet it is to love and be loved back
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
seen from Canada
seen from Ireland
seen from Denmark
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Australia
personal moodboard for @chaosprince
How sweet it is to love and be loved back
when graduation is 20 days away and you still have no idea what you’re doing with your life but it’s all good!
The gates to Olivier’s mansion are locked. Which, of course, makes April grin.
April crouches near the fence, hoodie pulled over her head, spray can in hand.
“Alright,” she whispers to Devil, “you watch for guards. I’ll make sure Mr. Perfect King wakes up tomorrow to see his face with cat ears.”
Devil perches on top of the wall, grinning with that chaotic energy that makes April’s stomach ache from laughter.
“You do realize if they catch you, they won’t just fine you this time, right? They’ll drag you to that Academy.”
April shrugs, already shaking the can.
“Worth it. Besides, Olivier doesn’t scare me.”
She starts spraying, neon paint sizzling against the stone. The image grows — a mocking, exaggerated version of Olivier’s face, with devil horns and a speech bubble that says ‘Bow Down to Nobody.’
Devil whistles low.
“You are asking for trouble, Blake.”
April smirks.
“Good. I like trouble.”
April paces the alley, boots scuffing the cracked pavement, her cigarette glowing like a warning light. Devil lounges against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with that half-amused, half-concerned look he always wears when she’s about to start another rant.
April snarls under her breath.
“Can you believe it? Mum wants to send me to Reform Academy. Reform Academy, Dev! Olivier’s shiny little prison with uniforms and rules and—” she gestures wildly, “—mandatory manners. Like that’s gonna work on me.”
Devil’s mismatched eyes widen. “No way. You? In Burton’s school? Princess, they don’t even let you choose your music there. I heard they make you line up for meals like soldiers.”
April groans dramatically, throwing her cigarette to the ground and crushing it.
“Exactly! And you know what’s worse? Mum took my little sister Olivia home. She’s already there — sitting pretty in their perfect classrooms, probably loving every second of it.”
Devil snorts. “Olivia? The one who called you a ‘lost cause’ last week?”
April’s lip curls into a bitter smirk.
“Yeah. Her Majesty Olivia. Perfect hair, perfect grades, perfect manners. Mum eats it up — ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister, April?’” She spits the words like poison. “I’d rather burn the school down than be like Olivia.”
Devil grins, tossing her a fresh spray can.
“Then let’s make sure you never have to wear their uniform.”
April catches it, her grin turning wicked.
“Oh, I plan to. And next time… maybe we paint Olivier’s pretty face across the whole wall. With devil horns.”
Devil’s laugh echoes down the alley.
“Now that’s art.”
The alley behind the Burton mansion still smells like spray paint. The wall is glowing with chaotic neon letters, crowns broken in half, and anarchist wings spreading wide. April leans against her motorcycle, black boots scuffed, arms crossed, cigarette hanging from her lips.
Devil is perched on an overturned crate, shaking a spray can like it’s a trophy, his mismatched eyes glinting with amusement.
April exhales smoke, muttering,
“Well, that’s it. Mum nearly had a heart attack when she saw Olivier’s men at the door. Said if I can afford to ruin a billionaire’s wall, I can afford to fix it.”
Devil bursts into laughter, falling backward, his green hair falling in his face.
“Oh that’s rich — the princess grounded by her own mum. Tell me you’re at least gonna make the payment in coins, one by one. Make the smug bastard count ‘em.”
April smirks despite herself, flicking ash onto the ground.
“Coins? Please. I’m not paying him a thing. Let him send his lawyers — I’ll just paint them next.”
Devil tosses the spray can in the air, catching it with a grin.
“You’ve got guts, Blake. If he sends his guards again, call me. We’ll give ‘em a show they won’t forget.”
April finally laughs, shaking her head.
“Yeah, and then we’ll end up owing him for the floor we burn. You’re a terrible influence.”
Devil grins wider.
“Exactly why you keep me around.”
The neon of Hell City paints Devil’s face in blood-red and sickly green. He laughs, spray can rattling in one hand, knife flashing in the other. The wall behind him drips with chaotic paint — crowns, teeth, fire.
Devil grins wide, voice cutting through the smoke:
“Olivier’s mansion? Already tagged it. April’s idea. You should’ve seen his face when he found ‘Clown Prince Was Here’ on his door.”
He smears the paint with his fingers, leaving a jagged smile across the wall. The City calls him reckless. To Devil, that’s just living.
okok so could i request a moodboard for myself? im a scorpio, enfp, bisexual, i know you do the whole mythology thing and i love that so like highkey some medusa vibes would be so cool!! i dont really know how to make a request but yeah thank you so much!!
Sorry for the delay!!