#also first time drawing screamer which is ridiculous

[yeagrave]

they

[wallwriterstuff]

Anything You Can Do ||Demetri Volturi x Child!Oc||

Part 1: From The Doorstep 

Words: 3125

Warnings: None, just the usual parenting troubles

Summary: Part 2 to From The Doorstep (you can read this on it’s own I suppose but for the full backstory of how Demetri became a Daddy click the link to read From The Doorstep first!)

Demetri has faced many challenges since becoming a father, fighting hard for his little one every step of the way, so separating himself from her for a few hours a day is a lot more difficulty than he’d expected it to be. In short, this is what happens when mother hen Demetri sends Astraea Volturi to nursery! 

Demetri had never had a formal education like the kind the modern world provided youths nowadays. His education had consisted of lectures and practicing the practical elements of life; in so far as he remembered that often meant his father showing him how to knock an arrow or turn soil, then clipping his ear when he didn’t get it quite right. Still, it had served him well, and until the day Amun took him what little he remembered of his human life was successful. He had been healthy and his homestead was sustainable, he had done well for himself. Convincing him that sending Astraea to school was a good thing to do was therefore very difficult when he would have rather kept her home at his side, tutored by the Masters’ and other members of the guard.

He himself had degrees in geography, history and philosophy. Alec had degrees in all of the sciences. There was nothing in this world that she needed to know that they could not teach, but after reading through a few parenting books and websites (not that he was ever going to admit he’d scoured Mumsnet and various other mommyblogs – the torment would be never ending) he very quickly realised there was one thing he had failed to do as her father, one crucial element of growing up he had not provided for her in the five years she had been a part of his life.

He had not socialised her with other children.

At home, mixing with her found family, Astraea had no problems at all. She chattered happily with everyone that loved her and played nicely with the twins, but when they went out it was a different story. Demetri had noticed it more than once, her tendency to stay to herself when they went to the park or to cling to him until he pushed her to go a little further away to explore not something she shared with other children her age. After lengthy discussions about how much she had noticed about the coven and how much she might accidentally say to any school friends she might make, permission had been granted and Demetri had enrolled her in a local nursery. He hoped that meeting other humans from all walks of life might do her some good, but the first few weeks dropping her off in the mornings were hell.

Astraea’s first day had consisted of Demetri’s ears ringing as she sobbed and screamed at the top of her lungs, anxious about him leaving her in this strange new place with brand new people. He had held her close for most of that time, taking her around the room and trying to tempt her with some of the toys and activities on offer. No child had wanted to interact with the screamer clinging fast to her father’s hand and he had been forced to sit and listen to ridiculous, childish stories on a dusty floor surrounded by little humans all much more independent than his own Astraea was.

Day 2 was very much the same, the entire week passing by with little change until she surprised him by venturing a little further from him on the last day. They only spent a few hours at a time there but she knew the room well enough to know what she liked doing, and she’d sat at the drawing table on her own for a little while, checking all the while to make sure he hadn’t left her alone before she came back with a drawing for him. He felt awful that first week, like he had failed his daughter terribly, and it didn’t feel like it got much better for a very long time. She would traverse the room, but she wouldn’t talk to the staff running the nursery or the other children, selectively mute and never letting anyone but him hear her sweet voice.

It took a lot of slow progress, but after almost a full month, he was able to finally leave her for her first full day without him. Demetri had never felt anxiety like it. It clawed at the back of his mind, every minute dragged out into a small eternity as he waited for the moment he could pick her up, wondering if the other children were kind to her, if she was having fun, if she had injured herself with those oversized building blocks he had tried to steer her away from. It was a great relief to see her come streaking toward him when he came to pick her up, the venom stinging his eyes even though he could not cry as he cradled her close and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair.

“How was your day sweet girl?” he’d asked. Her answering smile was blinding bright, banishing his dark thoughts far far from his head – at least until tomorrow when he left her again.

“I think I have a friend now, but I missed you Daddy.” She’d replied. That was the first day that she had mentioned this friend, and it had been a welcome relief since it was what he had sent her to nursery for. Then one friend became two, and two became three, three became four, and suddenly there was a whole group that welcomed her every morning and said goodbye to her every afternoon. This is a good thing he told himself over and over, She is interacting with children her age, this is a good thing. So…why did it not feel like it?

Every night as the clock crept closer and closer to the dreaded time he would have to wake her and get her ready, a hollow would open in the pit of his stomach and it would grow and grow until it nearly consumed him whole. Demetri was forced to fake every smile he gave her as he helped her dress and tie shoelaces, and the hollowness was nothing compared to the bitterness that replaced it when he dropped her off each day. It was not jealousy, he was Demetri Volturi and he was not jealous of little humans, he was not! But she did seem to enjoy their company far more. She all but ran into the nursery room these days, desperately wiggling out of her coat to join her friends. Sometimes he had to chase her down just to get his goodbye cuddles. It took him a while to understand exactly what this horrible feeling was, and then it hit him.

She didn’t need him anymore.

The Astraea that clung to his legs when new people approached her was gone. She was more confident and smiled brighter. Even going to the park wasn’t the same as she actually got involved in other children’s games, and though Demetri wanted to be happy he had helped his daughter overcome the shyness he had accidentally instilled in her, he was quietly mortified by the whole process. He hadn’t realised preparing her for the world meant preparing her to leave him behind, and Demetri…wasn’t ready. Astraea didn’t even seem to notice his pain, his bubbly little girl far too excited about all of her new friends and school to register it.  

School was another thing Demetri was dreading. How much less would she need him once she started to formally learn to read, to write? How many more new friends would take her away from his side? Goodness knows what would happen if she wanted to sleep at a friends house. He might just sit outside the place on an opposite rooftop to keep an eye on her if that happened, he wasn’t sure he could cope. He wondered though if maybe school might also be better in some way, more structure and less play. It might knock out some of the odd habits she’d picked up from nursery at least.

He’d noticed it first a fortnight ago, after she’d asked to take something of his into nursery for something called show and tell and he’d given her an antique compass alongside a well-rehearsed story about how he travelled for work. When he’d picked her up that afternoon she’d reverently held his compass in her hands and had a grand old time “reading” it, giving him directions about which way to turn as she rode on his shoulders in their mission to find her after nursery snack. He had played it off as some lingering excitement and a fun game to play. They’d been looking at pirates in the nursery after all and pirates did love to find buried treasure.

A few days after that, he’d found his shoes had gone missing, and the scent in his room led him right to Astraea’s door. His first instinct had been to immediately stop her clomping about in his polished, far too big shoes, but then he’d paused and amusedly watched as she slammed her feet down to awkwardly waddle down her line of teddy bears, pointing to each one in turn and giving them orders. It was something she had seen him do with the lower guard, he and Felix in charge of their combat training and often talking to them about footwork and rules of engagement. Hearing them come tumbling from her mouth had almost made him laugh until she had repeated a few choice words from Uncle Felix’s repertoire he’d had to have a stern talk with both of them about.

It was little things like that that had added up over the span of two weeks that had confused and amused him to no end. Poor imitations of his growling, standing with one little arm tucked behind her back. She’d even copied the way he greeted Felix and other members of the guard in the halls, nodding at them with a quick enunciation of their name. The strange habit of mimicking his actions had extended to Uncle Felix to, and Uncle Alec and Aunt Jane, though he had to admit it was hilarious to watch her glare the young boy who had accidentally crushed her artwork with his foot as he stood from the carpet into submission, Jane’s signature smile on her lips as she did it. She looked almost disappointed that she hadn’t been able to make him writhe in agony as she did so and Demetri had had a quiet word with Jane about ensuring she didn’t use her gift in front of Astraea anymore.

It had all culminated in one silly little argument one morning as they got ready for another day at nursery, one of the last coming up before the Christmas holidays. Demetri was feeling the same hollowness he always felt, not in the mood for her to push his patience as she was, and it was all over a stupid necklace. He was crouched before her, hand outstretched as he waited with all the patience he possessed for him to place her coven crest back into his open palm. She held it clutched tight in her tiny little fists, small knuckles turning white with the effort as she shook her head vigorously, holding it close to her chest.

“No! I want to wear it!” she repeated. This was the fourth time she’d told him as much despite his protests.  

“Astraea Volturi I have been patient enough with you, you are not allowed to take it and that is final, now hand it back to me. Now.” Demetri ordered, curling his fingers for added emphasis.

“No!” she cried, lower lip protruding in a pout and trembling slightly. Demetri blinked, surprised by her reaction. He hadn’t expected his daughter to get this upset over it, but she looked genuinely distraught at the thought he might take it from her. He sighed, letting his hand drop and resting his forearms on his thighs, hands clasping as he studied her tight grip on the necklace. She hadn’t really worn it before, since it was rather large and she was still only small, so it would hang down her torso for sure and probably snag on things. He didn’t want her choking if the chain got caught on anything, or for her to lose it. It was a great honour to be part of their coven and she would cherish it in the years to come, but not at the tender age of five.

“Sweet girl, I worry you will lose it, or perhaps hurt yourself if it becomes caught on anything as you play. It would be safer to leave it at home.” He tried. Astraea shook her head again, turning her body away from him. He knew full well he could take it from her without any resistance but he had sworn to never use force on his daughter long ago.

“I’ll be careful!” she promised. Her small shoulders were all hunched up, so tense as she gripped onto her necklace tight. Demetri rolled his eyes skyward and took in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before he exhaled slowly and checked his watch. They were going to be very late if this carried on.

“I am sure you would be, but that still does not mean it is safe to take it to nursery.” He reasoned.

“But I need it!” she whined. Demetri’s brows furrowed, mind racing as fear gripped him tight. She needed it? What had she said to the other children that required her to take in her coven necklace? Had she mentioned the crest? The Volturi?

“Why?” Demetri asked, keeping his voice as level as he could so as to not alert her to his underlying panic. There was a long moment of pure silence, neither of them saying anything as his anxiety grew till he was forced to press for an answer. When Astraea turned to face him, her puppy dog eyes made him falter.

“To be like you. You always wear yours.” She pointed to the golden ‘V’ visible against his chest, and Demetri subconsciously reached his fingers up to run them over the cold metal. His expression softened slightly and he lowered himself to the ground, gesturing for his daughter to come and sit with him. She hesitated for a moment before he motioned to her once more, her little legs carrying her right to his lap where she made herself comfortable. Demetri wrapped his arms around her, looking down at her inquisitively.

“Now why on earth would you want to be like me?” he asked. Astraea was everything to him. She was his happy, bright, gorgeous, warm, curious, sweet little girl, and he wouldn’t have changed her for anything in the world. To hear she wanted to be like him…well the most selfish parts of him relished in the news. She kept her crest in her lap now, looking up at him with a small frown.

“Miss Bellomo asked what we wanted to be when we were bigger, and I want to be a hero like you that protects people.” She said. Demetri felt his cold, dead heart shatter into a million pieces. For obvious reasons Astraea didn’t know the full scope of what he did, to her he was a security guard that protected the castle, and sometimes he had to go away to find people who had tried to get into the castle and give them a telling off. He was sure she’d be horrified if she knew the truth, that he was an executioner more so than a hero, but to see himself through her eyes was extraordinary and eye opening. Suddenly, all of the little things he’d caught her doing made sense.

Every gesture of his she had mimicked, she had done in an effort to be like him. Astraea had never left him behind at all; he was always in her mind, the protector and hero that was always with her. Demetri held her close, burying his nose in her hair to inhale her sweet scent. He didn’t care that it made his throat burn horribly. He simply needed to be close to his daughter and have a little time to compose himself. When he pulled back, he clasped her head to his lips and pressed a firm kiss against her hairline.

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl, no. Please do not try to be like me.” He whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Her little face fell into a frown again.

“Why can’t I be like you?” she asked. Demetri stroked her cheek with his thumb.

“You cannot be like me because I need you to keep being like you,” he replied, “Astraea, my sweet girl, there are so many people in this world who would seek to change you, the way you look or the way you act, but never let them. You are kind and strong, and smart and funny…to be anything other than yourself is taking away so much good from this world. Do you understand?” He knew she most likely didn’t, not fully, but after a minute to process it, she nodded, curls bouncing around her face.

“So…I have to be me?” she asked. Demetri nodded.

“Yes. You must always be you. I love you very much as you are. You are my hero, my sweet girl.” He kissed her forehead, the adoration he felt for his little girl ten times stronger than it had ever been before. She beamed up at him, throwing her small arms around his neck to hug him close to her. Demetri returned the hug whole heartedly, vaguely noting that hollowness that had plagued him was entirely gone now. She was certainly a hero, she’d saved him from himself.

“Will you keep it safe for me?” she held out her coven crest to him and Demetri stared down at it for a long moment before gently curling her fingers back around the metal.

“How about we compromise? If you promise to keep it in your nursery bag and not take it out for any reason, you can take it with you.” He suggested. Her eyes sparkled and she nodded vigorously.

“I promise I promise!” she cheered. Demetri chuckled.

“Okay then. Let’s put it in your bag now and go, we are already late.” He watched her bounce up from his lap, bounding over her to small backpack with all the eagerness of an overly excited puppy. Demetri had never expected that when he enrolled his daughter in nursery, he would be the one to learn something new. Sometimes parenting required you to step back, not too far, but just enough so you could watch your children thrive from a distance you could easily cross when you were needed, and Astraea still very much needed him, even if it didn’t feel like it all the time.

[keyofjetwolf]

Bonus Question Answers! (non-anime animated final)

I asked a silly question! You gave me incredible answers. SO VERY MANY INCREDIBLE ANSWERS. If yours is listed below, you’ve earned an entry in a random draw to win a GIFTENING liveblog OF YOUR CHOICE

This question may have inadvertently created my favourite solid block of answers. I wouldn’t have called that, and was DELIGHTED. Narrowing these down was so incredibly hard. You are all beautiful and I love you.

—

Q: What was one of my favourite songs in JEM? Points will be awarded for accuracy, OR making me laugh, so if you don't know any JEM songs (or Misfits or Singers, of course!), DON'T LET THAT STOP YOU.

*  The Limp Lizards launched a shockingly popular remake of their 1 (one) famous song, and it is literally just an ASMR soundtrack of glass breaking.  That's it.  And yet, their renewed royalties have set them up comfortably in the 2000s.  -- @amberlilly  [I hoped in my heart of hearts that someone would say The Limp Lizards, and then you did, BUT DID IT MORE, Lilly you are the hero we need in these dark times.]

~~

*  If one of your favorite songs wasn't Takin' It All, then I just don't know you.  @ayu-ohseki​  [I DO LOVE THAT ONE YOU GOT ME]

~~

*  Bad Influence? I don't know, the Romeo and Juliet tale but instead of people getting stabbed/poisoned, you have of a bunch of people hijacking YOUR stage performance to sing about how much you and your friend suck. It seems really appealing.  -- Don Jose  [I’m not sure I ever quite phrased it that way to my myself, BUT YOU RIGHT.]

~~

*  Designing Women. It's an incredible bop that features the Misfits trashing a store and then buying everything. All just to spite one of the protags. -- Eddy  [I DO IN FACT REALLY LOVE THIS ONE.  Oh, Misfits, you’re so ridiculous and poorly socialized.]

~~

*  "Come on in the Water's Fine" because when I looked at song titles, I imagined Michiru saying this to Ami to bully her into the pool to race her again bc Ami seems like the kind of girl to her who would need such kind things said to entice her. But additionally, when it started up for some reason it made me think about "Holiday" by Madonna which boy, talk about nostalgia for me. Also also when the dude in the video first shows up, I thought the striped part of his shirt was the only part of his shirt and the peach flesh colored part of his shirt was just his torso and therefore that he was wearing the most hideous crop top that ended just above his nipples because that would be QUITE the fashion statement. Also mermaids rock okay   -- Furi  [There isn’t a word out of place in this entire answer, but also it made me really want you to have to do a blind reaction series on JEM song videos.]

~~

*  "Be Gay, Do Crimes, Rio Sucks" obviously a Misfits song, preaching only truth  -- @incorrecttact  [Bless you, friend]

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*  I Snort Glitter Everyday  -- Jillwalker  [ACTUAL LOL, this was clearly from one of Kimber’s 1938577 rebellious phases this week.]

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*  That one, in episode 47 I think? about rats being good for your skin? Wouldn't expect it to be so catchy just looking at the lyrics (I mean really, "Put 'em in soap, that's the peak, all squeaky clean, makes the boys' knees weak"? Who greenlit that?) but I haven't been able to go two months without it lodging itself in my brain for *years*  -- @kariachi  [just *chef’s kiss*]

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*  Glitter and Gold, because it's such a gigantic "WE HAVE NEW DOLLS TO MARKET!" advertising tie-in that I can't help but enjoy how shameless it is. GLITTER AND GOLD! GLITTER AND GOLD! HERE COMES GLITTER AND GOLD, IN STORES NOW! (Also truly outrageous I guess, but GLITTER AND GOLD!)  -- Peter Svensson  [IT’S TRUE AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. It’s so fucking brazen, I love it.]

~~

*  Jemmicle Songs for Jemmicle Cats!  @sirblackaxe  [Bravo. BRA. VO.]

~~

*  "alone Again" for the sole reason I want you to go "wtf song was this again?" and have to look up this nightmare fever dream of an episode  -- shoujo screamer  [HA JOKE’S ON YOU FRIEND I DON’T HAVE TO LOOK IT UP I ALREADY KNOW THE SONG AND THE EXACT EPISODE IT CAME FROM SO TAKE THAT I AM VERY COOL]

—

AND THAT’S ALL THE BONUS QUESTION ANSWERS. Thank you all so much for playing along with me. I’ll be pulling for the winner (winners? THAT’S UP TO YOU) this Thursday the 14th! The winner(s) will have 24 hours to let me know what I’ll be doing, and we’ll have that liveblog(s) on the last day of THE GIFTENING, Tuesday the 19th.

THANK YOU AGAIN YOU’RE ALL TOO GOOD IT’S DISGUSTING

[starlight-ascension]

Setsuna on MySpace

(NOTE: i am too young to actually remember MySpace or have ever used it, I am going from the search results when i just now looked up how MySpace worked. There may be a little factual inaccuracy, IDK.) 

As Cure Passion

Her URL would probably be something along the lines of “XxX_Crimson_Passion_XxX” (it was 2009. All 4 team members have/had X’s at the start and end of their usernames.) 

Her page would have a red glitter background, with hearts, clovers, and/or emojis. It would include her team’s symbol, just like Peach, Berry, and Pine’s glitter backgrounds. 

The people who keep up with her on MySpace would consist mostly of: people who follow the whole precure thing in general for one reason or another (or another, or another. I can think of a ton of reasons someone would follow the precures online), people who are obsessed with the villain-turned-hero trope and ecstatic to see it for real, anyone who likes her aesthetic in general, and teenage/preteen girls who religiously obsess over everything to do with the relationship between Cure Peach and Cure Passion, more so than any other celebrity relationship, and have no idea why and how they’re so obsessed with these two lesbians living their best lives because there’s no possible way they could be gay too, right? Right? (spoiler alert: those teenage/preteen girls will all have an epiphany at one point in their lives that they are in fact gay as hell. 5-10 years later, there will be several posts on Tumblr that say some variant of “Pretty Cure made me realize I like girls”.) 

She’d post selfies with her team, questions about the world (which would sometimes bait trolls to respond with ridiculous things), random thoughts, crazy things that she or one of her teammates did or said, inspirational quotes and the like that are relevant to her life, updates involving her romantic relationship with Cure Peach, the occasional picture of Chiffon, and of course, updates on her team’s mission. When she’s having more angsty moments, she’d post about that too. 

She would also make fun of the villains every now and then when her teammates do it. (and yes, she would run across Berry and Pine’s old posts about Eas, and she would laugh). The team would also have a YouTube channel, and they’d live stream battles when they can with Tarte holding the video camera. They’d put links to those on MySpace after the end of the fight. 

As Eas

She wouldn’t put things like X borders or stylized 1337 in her URL. She’d view it as useless and/or dumb. 

Her page would have darker themes, maybe that red rhombus symbol. Not nearly as much glitter as she’s have as Cure Passion, that’s for sure. 

She wouldn’t add any friends, and she’d un-friend Tom. She’d also reject and deny all friend requests. Except one, which has been left pending for months, because she never accepted it but never denied it either. The one from Cure Peach. 

Her following (aside from the precures themselves, of course) would be divisible into 3 categories: Emo, Horny, and PreCure Enthusiasts. Or in other words, her aesthetic and the edgy/angsty posts she makes would draw a LOT of edgy eyeliner teens, there’d also be a lot of teenage boys (and a few creepy adult men) who just want to see more of this attractive girl in her revealing skintight black leather outfit, and of course, there’s people who are extremely obsessed with everything involving the Pretty Cure to the point that they also follow the villains. She wouldn’t have as many people keeping up with her on social media as she would after becoming Cure Passion, but she would definitely have a lot, given how much attention the whole thing with PreCures and giant monsters and the like is drawing from the world. 

She’d post a LOT of edgy quotes and the like (often with a with a “you’re/we’re all doomed” vibe). She’d also post disguised cryptic warnings, the occasional selfie, posts making fun of Westar, she’s posted a screamer link or two, and later on during her arc, she’d make a lot of semi-cryptic and very angsty posts about her breakdown/existential crisis/internal conflict and about Cure Peach (who she never actually mentions by any of her names, but everyone knows who she’s talking about). Sometimes she’d make those posts at 2am when it keeps her up at night. There’d also be a post tagging Peach, Berry, and Pine and saying “U girls r SO screwed now...” with an eye emoji, a few hours before the attack in episode 19. 

After episode 22, she’d change her profile photo to be empty and black like the void, and would disappear from social media. Just over a week later, Cure Passion’s profile would show up for the first time. 

[fictionalrat]

let it happen | chapter 4

read on ao3

9:40 A.M.

Lance saves the document, closes it, stares at his laptop desktop image until his eyes start to sting, groans in frustration, and slams his laptop shut. Puts it aside. He crosses his arms like a petulant child, he chews on his bottom lip, his eyes roam around his room.

He watches as the wind plays lazily with his curtains, making their shadows dance, swaying back and forth.

Something moves in his peripheral vision. He rolls his head to the side, fingers hovering over the keypad. The sight that meets him makes him pause, his fingers freeze, Keith looks so peaceful, he looks almost… ethereal. It’s kind of disturbing, yet mesmerizing at the same time.

Keith’s pale face glows a tender hue under the morning light, the sun tinges his chapped lips a deep pink, the scar under his left eye looks almost translucent.

Keith’s so… unfairly beautiful.

He catches himself tracing down the slopes of Keith’s face, the lines of his jaw, the curve of his upper lip with his eyes like a piece of chalk on canvas. He’s never seen something quite this stunning before in his life (granted, he’s only 22, but that’s beside the point), if only he knew how to draw like Keith does.

Lance can’t take this, his heart’s too weak.

He wants to bury his face in Keith’s ruffled hair, wants to breathe him in, wants to have him in his arms, wants to touch, but he seems so out of reach like this. Lance curls his fingers into fists, aching to touch. He restrains himself from charting pale, fading freckles down with his fingertips.

It… it’s very distracting, is what it is.

Keith scrunches up his nose, grumbles and throws an arm over his eyes. Lance’s breath catches in his throat.

Lance… Lance is fucked, he knows he’s fucked, he already knew that then (when Keith suggested this… arrangement), he knows that now, he’s known that for some time now, but it never fails to catch him by surprise. This… feeling never fails to overwhelm him. He fucking hates this… whatever this is, he has no fucking word for this… feeling. It claws at his throat, it kicks him the gut, it scorches his heart, it clenches his heart in a death-grip, it steps on it, it rips his heart apart.

Lance covers his face in his hands and rubs, groaning in frustration. This is ridiculous. He forces himself to look away, and focuses on drilling a hole into the wall with the force of his glare instead, running his tongue over one of his canines.

Do not distract yourself with cheesy rom-com bullshit, bitch, he scolds himself, Write. Yes, writing is good. Stressful, but good. Go back to writing. Avoid contact. Don’t look. Avert your eyes. Work. You’ve got work to do, so do it.

After about five or so minutes of glaring despondently into fucking space and hating himself for being pathetic, he does. He’s always been good at taking all his frustrations on his writing.

He pulls his laptop into his lap, opens it, double taps, and the document appears on the screen. The cursor blinks curiously at him, he blinks back, and sighs. He starts scanning it for typos, and corrects them, all the while grumbling about how fucking stupid he is, and how fucking stupid all those mistakes were.

He adds some of the worst expletives in big, bold and italic capital letters next to shitty, weird ass sounding paragraphs that don’t ever seem to get any better, even after rewriting them seven thousand three hundred and eighty-four fucking times. Doesn’t matter how many times he tries, how many times he bangs his fists on the keyboard, how hard he hits the keys, the words don’t ever seem to come out quite right.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

“¡BESA MI CULO, PUTO!” He snaps at one particularly dumb typo, and deletes its whole sentence out of spite.

Keith stirs, and groans next to him, turning his body towards Lance. Lance tenses, holding his breath and sitting very still until he’s super sure, 100% Keith won’t wake up. Keith sighs obliviously in his sleep, and turns on his stomach. Lance lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes.

He snaps them open and shakes his head in frustration, “No seas tonto, Lance.”

He hits ctrl-z and skips the paragraph entirely, jumping to two paragraphs bellow, he reads it and gasps, “¿Qué carajo? Who wrote this? A fiveslgfjdjdfds.” A hand lands on the side of his face with a smack, smooching his cheek. Lance screams, - of course he does, how could he not. - and almost falls off the bed.

“SHUT YOUR ROTTEN MOUTH, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP,” Keith growls at him, voice raspy, and low, and terrifying. Even muffled by the pillow and drowsy, his voice doesn’t lose its aggressive edge. What the fuck.

Lance, after recovering his soul, turns his head so he can stare at Keith with raised brows, and huffs, “Hella lot of words coming from a sleeping person, I’d say.”

Keith groans and lifts his face off the pillow, glaring at him through squinty eyes, “Shut that fucking trap, you moldy piece of bread, or get out.”

“This is my fucking room, Keith,” Lance sputters, snapping his laptop shut for added effect, “you get out.”

“I’M SLEEPING, PISS OFF,” Keith kicks at Lance’s leg with enough force to bruise.

“OW! CAREFUL WITH MY COMPUTER, YOU BRUTE!”

Keith grumbles, turning his back to Lance and covering his head with Lance’s comforter. He curls into a ball, shutting Lance out.

Lance relocates his grumpy ass to the couch after flipping an oblivious, snoring Keith off.

He loves the guy, but damn, can he be an asshole so-

…Wait, did he just-

Oh, hell no.

10:34 A.M.

stud muffin so………….. do i even wanna know? probably not, but you’re gonna tell me anyway pidge, cover ur eyes

pidgeotto shut up hunk im not 5 GIVE ME DA DEETS LANCE

space boi lance AWWW MAN MY DUDES MY BROS MY PALS MIS HERMANOS

pidgeotto oh boy here we go…….. im regretting this already

space boi lance SHUT IT BIRD TURD anyway where was i before i was so rudely interrupted??? ah yeah OH MY GOD MY DUDES hes a screamer KEITH KOGANE OUR KEITH IS A SCREAMER ITS LIKE AAAAAA GUYS boi so thicc too goddem cant wait to have him up my ass honest such a nice dick 11/10 reallygreat work of art grade a AND DAT ASS!!!!!!!! GUH SO FUCKING SMOOTH he looks really nice when hes sleeping too so soft i want to chomp on his cheeks ughhhhhh how can he be so perfect its so unfair im swooning i swear to GOD he looks hot even when hes kicking me out of my own room which UNFAIR

A facebook notification pops up at the top of his phone screen in the middle of his rant.

Hunk Garrett tagged you in a post, it says.

Lance arches an eyebrow, “Huh.”

He taps it open.

Hunk Garrett is listening to the less i know the better, by tame impala i’d like to dedicate this song to my good pal Lance Martínez you know /why/ Pidge Holt and 5 others 

Pidge Holt  HOOOOOO BOY THE BURN THATS Y UR MY MAIN HO HUNK I LOVE U

Matthew Holt lol babe look at The Shade Takashi 

Takashi Shirogane Ah yes, that is indeed The Shade Of It All *scratches chin* Lance Martínez shiro i love u but dude ure embarrassing get off the internet Matthew Holt dont trash talk the baby lance Matthew Holt he’s sensitive Matthew Holt (ure adorable babe) Takashi Shirogane I take offence to that Lance Takashi Shirogane No more dog memes for you Lance Martínez NOOOOOO DAD NOT THE DOGGO MEMES Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Lance Martínez u guys are absolute TRASH

Lance Martínez the WORST I TELL U WORST

Lance Martínez I NEED NEW FRIENDS ASAP 

Pidge Holt awwwwwwww lance i love u too Pidge Holt u can tell me everything later i’ll allow it Pidge Holt bring food Pidge Holt and redbull Pidge Holt tons of redbull Lance Martínez ure… ugh Lance Martínez i hate u Lance Martínez u tiny bird turd Pidge Holt URE tiny Lance Martínez GASP U TAKE THAT BACK Pidge Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hunk Garrett ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Matthew Holt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Takashi Shirogane ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lance Martínez LULU NOT U TOO Allura Ourania ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11:35 A.M.

He’s avoiding the huge ass, one-sided, and glittery elephant in the room, he’s avoiding the fuck out of it. He’ll avoid the fuck out of it until it goes away, until it disappears for good, until it goes to fucking hell, until it’s burning in the fifth circle of hell.

He has no time for this.

This project is worth 40% of his grade.

His prof’s a mad man, yeah, but that’s how it is. He won’t flunk this class just because he can’t control his feelings.

He can’t, won’t, jeopardize his project just because of fucking feelings.

¡No, de ninguna puta manera! 

He needs a shower. 

And a joint. 

And coffee. 

Tons of coffee. 

But a shower first, then facials, then weed, then coffee.

Tons of coffee. 

He’ll also down a shot of tequila, because he’s feeling adventurous. 

(Reckless, he means reckless.)

1:45 P.M.

Lance’s minding his own business, stirring his way into his fifth?? possibly, probably, he’s not sure, cup of coffee, and stuffing his face with ham and pineapple pizza rolls in the kitchen after smoking a whole joint by himself in the bathroom, when he hears it. It is terrifying. A dull thud reverberates through the apartment, echoed by it; the most earth-shattering, ear-splitting shriek he’s ever heard.

“LANCE!”

He freezes, his heart plummets.

His spoon drops and clatters on the floor.

“LANCE, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD,” the deity roars.

Lance squeaks like a fucking mice, and squats, hiding behind the counter.

Run. Pack your things and go, get out of town. Flee to Europe, change your name-

He presses his overheated cheek to the counter and sighs, so good. He grins wide.

Keith’s feet smack on the floor as he stomps, over-aggressively, I dare add, out of Lance’s room, “What the fuck did you do to my ass, you rotten egg?” His voice is louder now, much louder. Lance jumps mid giggle-fit, which sets him off into another one.

“ME!” Lance peers over the countertop and raises his hand, waving sluggishly and cackling, bloodshot eyes wide. Well, as wide as they can go, which, honestly, isn’t much, considering, “I DID THE FUCK! I PUT MY DICK IN - HAH - YOUR ASS! YOU LET ME - HAHAH - IT WAS WILD!”

Keith takes a long look at him and, like a flip has switched, his scowl melts and he bursts out laughing, his nose crinkling up. It’s so fucking adorable, Lance’s heart hurts. It burns. It screams in pain. Lance laughs the pain away like the idiot he is, or maybe just because he’s high as fuck. One can never be too sure, ya feel.

“I know that, you fucking stoner, I mean THE BRUISES.” He points at his bare hips, trying to catch his breath.

Lance’s eyes travel south.

Helloooo there, legs.

Wait, he went too far.

Go back two frames.

There, hips.

Lance blinks, and tries to open his eyes further. He can’t.

He blinks again.

Oh.

Ho boy, he did a number on the guy alright.

Also, this part is super wild, bare with him, it looks weirdly… beautiful? It’s gorgeous, actually. It’s a masterpiece, Lance is an artist.

The red and purple splotches scattered across Keith’s skin are… kind of blurring together in one big ass bruise, that reminds him oddly of the Milky Way. Lance fights hard against the white urge to draw an alien-head above Keith’s hipbone. Keith probably wouldn’t mind it, though. The nerd. Lance chuckles.

Keith clears his throat.

Lance flicks his eyes up at Keith, blinks languidly at him several times. Keith’s waiting for something, isn’t he? What is it again? He rakes his brain for an answer. It beeps.

Ah, yeah.

An answer, right. He needs to answer Keith, duh.

Lance cackles at his stupidity.

“Oh, that.” Lance wipes his eyes on his sleeve in between chuckles as he finally answers, sniffing. He braces his arms on the counter and pushes himself up on his feet, winking, “I’m not sorry about that.” He lies his torso on the counter, smooching his cheek against the cool surface, and shoots Keith a lopsided smile.

Keith shakes his head, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you looooooove me,”  Lance sing-songs, finger gunning lazily with a grin.

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, and gets closer, dragging one of the stools from under the counter, and sitting down gingerly, wincing a little. His eyes flicker swiftly to something as he settles, before they land on Lance again. Keith frowns, “Should you be drinking coffee?”

Lance frowns back, puzzled, turning his head so he can look at his mug. “Shouldn’t I?” He wonders.

Keith leans over the counter, elbows propped up, and starts picking idly at one of the pizza rolls sitting pretty on the plate in front of him, “It doesn’t affect your high?”

Lance gasps. His pizza rolls. “No touching, you fugly mullet, it’s mineeeeee,” Lance whines, reaching forward and swatting Keith’s fugly hand away. He snatches the plate from Keith and brings it closer to himself, tucking it in between his arms, away from pizza roll-thieving mullets. Lance sticks out his tongue at him, before fitting two of the biggest rolls in his mouth. At the same time. For emphasis. His cheeks puff out.

Keith ducks his head to hide his grin. “You look like a chipmunk,” he comments nonchalantly, tapping his knuckles idly on the surface.

“Nhobowdshy ashkd yuh, Puhtrish,” Lance shoots back.

Keith rolls his eyes and flips him off with both hands, leaning back on his stool.

Lance flashes him the half-chewed food.

“Fuck, that’s gross.”

“Ah.” Lance struggles to swallow all of it dry, but manages, “I forgot to - clears throat - answer, coffee doesn’t affect my high much.” He shrugs, taking a bite off one of the rolls. Keith hums.

Lance swallows, “Pass me the straw, please. The long, bendy one.” He gestures a thumb back.

Keith slides from the stool in one smooth movement, makes his way around the counter and goes for the drawers. Lance hears as it slides open, “Which color?”

“Purple,” Lance answers over his shoulder.

He stretches his arm when Keith pulls the straw out and makes a grabby hand at him.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Keith holds the straw over his head.

“Gimme, or I’ll punch your di-I-i-aaAAAAAah,” he tries to steal the straw from Keith, but loses his footing and almost dives face-first into the cold, hard floor. “¡Coño!” He fumbles to keep upright, hooking a hand on the edge of the other side of the counter. Thank fuck for long fingers.

Lance manages to get his balance back by planting his feet firmly on the ground. Keith makes his way back to his stool, and once he’s settled, he hands Lance the straw already stretched. Keith’s lips quiver in a poorly concealed attempt not to laugh, eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Lance rolls his eyes as he throws the straw into his cup, propping himself on his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

Keith makes gagging sounds, bangs falling on his eyes.

Lance ignores him in order to bring the straw to his lips with his free hand, and suck the coffee, swallowing in an obnoxiously loud gulp.  

Keith’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “You’re gross,” Keith comments, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Thanks, I try,” Lance grins around his straw, then frowns at Keith’s bare chest. “Shouldn’t you put on some clothes, though?” Lance asks, eyes half-lidded, “It’s freezing, Keith.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, looking down. “Off-topic, but no, Lance, it’s not,” he shoots Lance a look, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And how would you know, anyway? You’re high.”

“What’s this jealousy I’m feeling? There’s more, you know.” He pats the breast pocket of his sweatshirt with a dopey smile, and meets Keith’s eyes as he takes a sip, waggling his brows. He swallows and winks, “Don’t need to get all broody on me, grumpy pants.”

Keith hides his face on his arms and groans. Lance can see the blush rising on Keith’s neck, and allows himself a mental pat on the back as he pushes himself upright.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lance trots towards his bedroom.

3:32 P.M.

When they sober up enough to get stuff done, they throw themselves on the couch, legs tangled because why not, right? It’s not like Lance’s life makes any sense, anyway.

Lance with the camera in his hands and laptop on his stomach, Keith with his headphones around his ears, and one of his weird, edgy sci-fi books resting on his thighs.

Lance rests his head on the armrest and hits play.

Keith’s feet tap a comforting rhythm against Lance’s.

4:02 P.M.

Keith falls asleep against the couch, mouth slightly open.

Lance does a poor job at reducing the volume of his laughter at his dramatics on video. Even though Keith’s got his headphones on, Lance still manages to wake him up, and ends up getting kicked in the shin by a very rumpled, grumpy, and over-sized baby with a fugly mullet for that.

He tries not to laugh again.

…He fails miserably, and both his shins suffer.

Terribly.

4:30 P.M.

Because Lance has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, they didn’t manage to catch Keith’s o-face on video. Life is unfair, God hates him, Jesus hates him, even Buddha must hate him, because this, right here, has got to be some sort of twisted divine punishment. Maybe it’s Karma, maybe he was a murderer in his past life, he doesn’t know. What he does know, though, is that this must be fixed.

“Dude,” he kneels on the couch and shakes Keith’s knee to wake him up, “Dude. DUDE!”

Keith’s eyes flutter open and he squints at Lance, blinking blearily, utterly confused.

Lance sits back on his heels and he offers Keith the camera, “Look.”

Keith, while frowning up at him, sits up and takes it. He yawns, unplugging his headphones from his phone and into the camera. He hits play.

Keith snaps the camera shut after about ten minutes, a furious blush burning his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He still looks mildly confused, though, and astoundingly flustered, bringing his knees to his chest.

Lance bites on his bottom lip and heaves a huge breath. “We’ll have to tape chapter 1 again,” he clarifies.

Keith lifts an eyebrow, face still bright red, “Because…”

“I can’t see your face when you’re coming, dude.” Lance explains, waving his hands at the camera in exasperation, “That’s unacceptable, you know. really preposterous. I can’t have this, I can’t WRITE like this. This is a disaster. We gotta redo this, Keith. It’s a matter of life and death.” He grabs both Keith’s knees and shakes.

“But- I’m awake now, dipshit, quit shaking me,” He snaps, batting Lance’s hands away from his knees, “But… don’t you remember my face when I was actually coming yesterday?”

So, you see… remember when Lance mentioned he has shit luck, and the universe is out to get him, and some sort of divine punishment is being inflicted upon him? There’s another reason to back up that assessment.

They not only hadn’t caught Keith’s o-face on video, but he also didn’t get to see Keith’s o-face in living color yesterday because he had his fucking eyes closed. Which rude, Lance. That is just plain rude. There’s no excuses. That’s probably why God, Jesus, and Buddha hate you this much.

Lance hangs his head. “I- I had my eyes closed,” he confesses, accepting defeat.

“You’re hopeless.”

Lance’s head shoots up and he gasps, “Excuse!”

“No,” Keith stands up abruptly, almost kneeing Lance’s nose in the process.

Lance squawks and reels back, out of reach, eyes wide, “Wha-”

“Shut the fuck up, you dry raisin,” Keith glares accusingly at him and Lance flinches, “I’ll fix this.”

“Kei-”

Keith’s arm shoots up, and he points his index finger at Lance, thick eyebrows pinched. “Stay put,” he warns, waving his finger, “don’t fucking move, don’t breathe.”

Lance is too confused to react, or even say anything, so he just gapes.

“Just… stay there, I’ll be quick.”

Keith returns buck naked, with a dildo and the lube in hands.

Lance’s at a loss, he’s a loss for words, his sass is gone, along with his ability to form coherent thoughts. Keith has that effect on him, apparently. Keith always finds a way to give Lance whiplash.  

Keith dumps the stuff on the coffee table and turns his attention to Lance, he chuckles at what he sees there, “Shut your mouth, Lance, you’ll catch a fly.”

Lance finds his voice. “Wha-” he clears his throat, and shakes his head before continuing, “What the fuck?” (Eloquent.)

Keith rolls his eyes as he picks up the camera, “You’re gonna tape me as I touch myself.”

Keith hands Lance the camera.

“I don’t…” Lance takes it, still completely dumbfounded.

Keith cuts him off, “I told you I’d fix this, didn’t I? So this is me, fixing it.”

Something in Lance’s brain seems to click.

“Oh,” he replies dumbly.

Oh no, is what he means, no fucking way. He’s gonna die today.

Yup, today is the day.

“Okay, so…” Keith claps his hands, “scooch over, I need the space.”

Lance’s eyes widen, “You really gonna do this here? On the couch?”

“Is there a problem?”

Yes. There’s a ton of problems, actually. Not with Keith doing it on the couch, but still, there’s a problem. Tons of problems. These problems have problems. For one, Lance will probably die. For two, he can’t do this anymore. He can’t but he has to, and he will because his project is worth 40% of his final grade, he will because he has to. He has the moral duty to prove to Keith, and to himself, that he, as a matter of fact, can do this, even if he’ll end up hurt. Fuck his feelings.

“No, no, nope, no problem at all. I’m all up for jerking off on the couch, sign me the fuck up. It’s just…” Lance blows a raspberry, scratching the back of his head, looking around the room, uncertain. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes, “it looks too cramped, I think? I was just, uhm, thinking that maybe, I don’t know, you’d prefer doing this on a bed?”

Keith snorts, “Nah, it’s okay.”

Lance finally looks at him, searching his face, “You sure? Like, 100%?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Yes Lance, don’t worry, just… keep the camera on me.”  

Lance sits upright, crisscrossing his legs, and points the camera at Keith.