#queue emptied so this is new art sorry for disappointing

[lanatusnebula]

Imagine my surprise when this guy didn't know about the sewer level.

(or at least he probably doesn't know)

[cafeacademia]

Guardian | Chapter One

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: As you navigate your fifth year at Hogwarts, you reflect on the things that have led you this far and you begin to wonder if your complicated friendship with Draco holds more meaning than you originally anticipated.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some friendly teasing, mentions of Umbridge’s punishments, description of harm to a student, comfort, fluff.

Word count: Approx 4000 (oopsies)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, here’s the first full part of the series! Please check out the Prologue if you’re new to the series, it gives some general setting up for the story and explains how this soulmate AU works. Enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

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(Gif is my own)

Sitting in the library, Neville was not far from the desk you were sat at as he scoured the shelves for a copy of a book about rare magical properties in plants while you were trying to work on your final Potions essay for the term. “This feels impossible.” You yawned, slouching over your four parchment rolls of completed essay. All you really had to do now was make a conclusion, but your brain was wandering after a few hours of working on your homework and it just wasn’t happening. “That’s incredible.” Neville whispered to himself and you couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, looking over your shoulder to see that he was fully engrossed in the book he had pulled off the shelf.

Putting your quill down, you looked down at your hand, eyes trailing over the little bandage wrap you wore over the mark left from the detention you had served the previous evening with Umbridge. It was still sore and it felt very tender, but you tried your best to keep it hidden under the bandage and the sleeve of your school jumper. Slowly, your mind wandered towards what Draco might be up to. You hadn’t spoken to him in months since you had started in your fifth year and you’d had less of desire to do so now that he was in the Inquisitorial Squad. And your thoughts paced back to your fourth year when you had started to share a bit of a friendship with him.

***

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy, you are.” Ron scoffed. “I am not.” You frowned at him. “Oi, shove off would you? I know you don’t like the little git, but he seems to like our girl, isn’t that right George?” Fred asked, looking over your head to his twin who was standing on the other side of you. “That’s right Fred, maybe he’s got a crush on you.” He chuckled, nudging you in the side. “Ah, young love.” Fred sighed, garnering a multitude of reactions between Ron sounding utterly disgusted to Ginny’s amused laughter. “Draco is just being friendly.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh Draco is it now? Not Malfoy anymore eh?” Fred teased.

“He’s such a git, Malfoy’s not worth your time anyway, he’s probably just using you or something.” Ron argued and for once, Hermione gave Ron an agreeing nod. “Besides, since when is Malfoy nice to anyone?” Hermione asked, Fred and George giving each other a look, they were a little more accepting than the others, but with the question raised even the twins wondered if there wasn’t another motivation there.

Sighing, you leaned back against the wall of the quad and glanced over at Neville, who had just been quietly listening to the conversation without saying a word, but the look on his face told you that he felt the same as the rest of your friends. The problem was, while you really, truly valued their opinion and you understood that they were trying to look out for you, albeit with a little tough love on Ron’s end, you knew there was something there between you and Draco but you just couldn’t seem to find the words to describe it.

Was it friendship? Was it some kind of connection deeper than that? Whatever it was, Draco seemed to become a different person around you. He was more genuine, more open, more himself and oddly, you were starting to feel like he really valued your attention and your opinion.

“You shouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction.” Ron went on, Harry now wandering over to join the group and you heaved out a sigh because you knew as soon as he joined in, the two of them would be going on about how much of ‘bloody git’ Draco was. “Give who the satisfaction?” Harry asked. “Malfoy.” Ron replied in a disgruntled tone. “Fine,” You gritted out. “Then I won’t give either of you the satisfaction, Ronald.” You suddenly burst out, everyone looking at you as if you had grown a second head from your sudden outburst. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He asked, a little bewildered.

But as the days passed, your friends started to realise what you had meant by that statement. Your little chats with Draco seemed to have halted entirely, and you didn’t speak a word about your budding friendship with the Slytherin. It was as if you had completely forgotten it had ever happened and your friends were starting to wonder if you were sneaking off to talk to him without any prying eyes, but of course there was no way they could prove it.

You valued their concern, you appreciated it in fact, but stupid or not you couldn’t deny that you felt a pull towards Draco. So you removed all indication that there was any interaction with Draco at all and it became quickly apparent to you, that maybe it was safer to just have a friendship with Draco in secret, especially as you weren’t too fond of the attention that being around the Slytherin Prince brought you.

You couldn’t deny, the secret meetings with Draco felt a little wrong, purely because you knew you’d get an absolute earful from Ron if he ever found out. But you still loved spending time with Draco, because out of everyone you had ever spent time with, Draco seemed to really value your company, be it quiet or more talkative. He seemed to understand when there were days that you just didn’t want to say a lot or you were more shy than usual and he understood that it was okay to enjoy silent company, but he also enjoyed it when you had energetic days and you wanted to chat about whatever came to mind.

***

“Are you listening?” Neville asked, leaning over your chair. “Hm?” You suddenly looked up at him, a little bit startled from being pulled away from your thoughts. “If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Neville warned and you pulled a face of worry before you hurried to pack away your things.

“Thank Merlin.” Neville mumbled as you both practically ran up the stairs to your classroom, seeing that there was a line of students waiting outside of the room, telling you that either you were just on time or Umbridge was late, though you thought the latter to be unlikely when she liked to go on about punctuality so often.

As you joined the line, Draco Malfoy made his way up the stairs, stopping when he reached you and pushed his way into the queue, though he was careful not to push you. And while Neville was busy catching up with Susan Bones who was standing on the other side of him, Draco leaned in and whispered to you.

“Meet me after class?” He asked. “Promise no funny business, just you and me.” He murmured and you tentatively glanced up at him. “This isn’t about you know what, is it?” You asked quietly. Draco knew what you were referring to. He knew you would be worried that he might try and pry some information out of you about the DA. Checking from side to side with a quick look, he held up his hand in front of you and pointed his ring finger at you. “I promise, it’s just like our old chats.” He whispered, glancing down to see you smiling, realising he was attempting a pinky promise. “Alright, but you’re using the wrong finger.” You had to refrain from giggling and instead, you shyly hid your smile as best as you could. Hesitantly you raised your hand, almost too shy to even touch him, but you pulled his little finger free and linked it with your own. “Sorry, I always forget which finger it is, muggle promises are strange.” Draco mumbled.

It wasn’t long before Umbridge finally poked her head out of the classroom and invited everyone in.

Draco sighed as he slouched down in his chair with his arms crossed in the drier than normal Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge was particularly boring to listen to as she droned on about a test you’d all be taking soon.

Instead, his focus was trained on the notebook that peeked out of the top of his bag that sat under his desk. He wished he could pick the book up and leaf through the pages, idly reading your handwriting, take in your thoughts and feelings and remind himself of days before now. Sometimes Draco wished that he could outright approach you and tell you that it was him, that he was your soulmate, but really that would be quite a bad move.

Draco wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to actually tell you, perhaps there was something that would prevent him from doing so or some sort of consequence and he was especially wary of this since his fourth year at Hogwarts when Pansy Parkinson had involved herself.

***

“What is that tatty old thing anyway? And why do you always brandish it about like a... a trophy or something?” She had asked with a judgemental edge to her tone, stealing it right out of Draco’s lap. The boy had nearly thrown himself across the common room at her as she hurried off with it. “I bet it’s a diary.” She giggled to herself. “Yeah, or he keeps secrets in there.” Crabbe added as he joined her. “That’s what a diary is, you dolt.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Draco stormed towards the pair of them, his heart racing with fear as he watched Pansy teasingly open the cover of the book. However, much to Pansy’s surprise and even more so to Draco’s, there wasn’t a single word, not a single drop of ink, no markings, nothing. The book was completely empty. “You really carry around an empty book?” Pansy questioned, sceptical with her upper lip curled in disappointment. “What did you expect, my heartfelt feelings?” Draco scoffed, his tone cold and sarcastic as he snatched the book back from her, trying not to appear too hurt that his book had been handled roughly. “I’m to keep it safe. Father sent it to me.” Draco lied through his teeth, but thankfully, his lies were hard to detect, even for someone who knew Draco’s tactics to uphold his image and Pansy just pulled an expression that told him that she thought it was weird.

***

But now, as he sat in class, Draco could still see the small dent in the leather cover that Pansy had caused when she’d roughly stolen it from his grasp. He was still angry about it even a year later, perhaps it was irrational to be so annoyed about damage to a book, but this was special and he remembered how very upset he had felt that someone other than him had held the book. It was precious, vulnerable and he treasured it.

But it wasn’t just the book that he treasured. No, what he considered to be more important, more precious and something truly wonderful in every aspect was you. Which was why he had started to slowly distance himself from you. But as Draco looked up to see you sitting a few rows ahead of him in the middle of the classroom, the thing that reminded him of why he wanted to see you peeked out from under your jumper sleeve. Your hand was bandaged and Draco was quite angry with himself, because the night before when you had unknowingly written to him in your book and told him that a teacher had hurt you during detention, Draco had immediately known what it meant and he was livid.

“Attention, mister Malfoy.” Umbridge practically shrieked across the classroom, slamming her hand down onto the front desk, disturbing the Friday afternoon gloom and making everyone in the room jump at her sudden raised voice before she gave him a forced smile. Draco lazily sat up in his seat, eyes flitting to you every time Umbridge turned away to write or point at something on the blackboard as his mind wandered throughout the rest of the lesson.

When the class finally came to an end and Professor Umbridge excused you all to enjoy the rest of your Friday evening, Draco left the classroom and leaned against the wall outside until the very last person left the room.

Draco gave you a subtle smile before he very quickly peeked around the doorframe to see that Umbridge was climbing the stairs to her office before he turned to look at you and give you a proper smile. “I’m so sorry it’s been months, it’s bloody difficult with her around, it’s like she’s everywhere.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I understand, everyone is on high alert at the moment.” You replied in a quiet tone, almost too afraid to speak up as Draco began to walk you down the stairs, having avoided the eyes of all of your classmates and hopefully any spying caretakers too.

You were anxious to be spending time with Draco after all of this time. Especially as now he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad and part of you was afraid that your friends had been right last year. What if he did try to use you? But Draco had not yet betrayed your trust and you firmly believed in giving him the benefit of the doubt, you just hoped you weren’t doing it at your own expense.

“Come, we can talk in here.” Draco stepped into a hidden little alcove that was behind a statue at the side of the staircase. It was unlikely anyone would stop long enough to be able to hear you both talking and no one could see you hidden around the corner either.

“Was she hard on you yesterday?” Draco whispered his eyes softening as he watched you give him a little nod. “Yeah, a little.” You replied. “How did you know?” You queried, shyly looking up at him. “Pansy told me she caught you and Neville yesterday.” He explained and you just gave him a little nod. It wasn’t an outright lie, Pansy had told him she’d caught some students, but she never said who, it was only until you confided in your soulmate that it had happened that he knew you must have been in the group that Parkinson had caught. He watched as you slowly lifted your hand and pulled up your jumper sleeve to show him the bandage.

“Can I see?” Draco asked softly, gently taking your hand into both of his, holding you so softly like he was afraid he could hurt you with just his tender touch. You nodded, Draco leaning down to catch the way your eyes seemed to be filled with shame and you glanced at him, only for a second with a watery gaze.

Slowly and as carefully as he could, Draco unwrapped your bandage, reading the words that had been carved into your hand. “Oh love, I’m sorry, I should have been there to stop it from happening.” Draco sounded like he was scolding himself as he apologised, the emotions reaching his eyes as they swam deep in worry.

“It’s alright, I knew I’d end up in detention with her eventually.” You sighed, watching as Draco gently held your hand in his. He couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make his stomach turn horribly. It sickened him to no end and part of the reason he had joined the Inquisitorial Squad in the first place was with the hopes that he might be able to protect you better from that position. Not that he would let on to that, though.

“Does it hurt still?” He asked. “It still stings a bit and it’s sore.” You told him, your eyes saddened as you looked down at the writing you had tried so hard to conceal all day, not just because you were ashamed of what Umbridge had done, but because you simply could not bear to look at it. Would it always be there? You wondered if it would serve as a constant reminder and you hoped that with time that it would fade, but you couldn’t help the worry that sat deep in your stomach that the mark would remain long after healing and you hoped at the very least, that it would not make your stomach turn every time you looked at it.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes looking up to meet yours as you let a shy, watery smile take over. You hoped not to cry, but Umbridge and her punishment was still very fresh in your mind and you felt a horrible chill roll through you whenever you thought of it. Merlin only knew how you had managed to make it through your lesson with her without it affecting you terribly.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, but I’m here now.” Draco whispered it so quietly as he pulled you against his side. He hated that he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Draco hated that he couldn’t stop Umbridge from hurting you and part of him hated himself for how weak he was for you. Did you find it strange that he was so apologetic? That he was almost loving towards you? But the worry seemed to slip from his mind when he felt you lean against him. It was moments like this that made Draco question himself. He questioned if he should continue to create distance between you, or if keeping you close was easier to keep you safe. And he questioned things like if he should find a way to help you realise that he was your soulmate like he had worked out two years ago. But he was afraid. Draco was starting to feel like that was beginning to be all too common for him to feel these days as things became more intense. The pressure from his father to do increasingly worse things that simply did not align with Draco’s morals was enough to twist his mind and now with working under Umbridge, he hoped it did not skew his true alignment and morality. It was this that he was fighting so hard to keep, because it was the one thing he could control when everyone else was insistent on pushing him into the directions they wanted him to go in.

What you didn’t know though, was that your friendship, his connection with you was more than just that to Draco. When he was around you, he didn’t feel like he had to cling on to who he was and put a mask on. He could just be himself and it relieved some of the tension and the fear.

But the question begged itself again. Am I too close to her?

“You know, Draco.” You broke the silence, the Slytherin humming in response, prompting you to continue. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for years.” You told him. And while it was somewhat true, you had known him since you both had started Hogwarts, you never really knew him until recently. Without even knowing what lay deeper in your connection to Draco, you could feel something there, you felt drawn to him.

That’s because you have, he thought. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same too.” Draco replied with a soft smile, only he really did know what you meant, more than you did and he wished he could tell you.

“We should go.” Draco spoke, almost in a regretful tone as he carefully and gently bandaged your hand back up. He hated that he had so little time with you, but he was thankful at least, that you were not against spending time with him. Stepping forwards, Draco checked the stairwell. “There’s no one around.” He reassured you. “See you soon.” Draco smiled sweetly at you. “I hope so.” You nodded, mirroring his smile before you stepped out of the alcove and made your way down the stairs quickly, Draco waiting several minutes before leaving, just in case.

The end of term was on it’s final stretch with one last exam to sit the following Monday for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But as the weekend came, you decided to spend at least some of it with the person you’d not been able to see nearly all year.

“Can I ask you something?” You broke the silence, Draco glancing over at you from his spot on the grass. You were both sat down by the lake, hidden by a bit of overgrown foliage and rocks. It was a part near the shore of the lake that not many people went to and it was perfect for spending a private moment with someone. “What is it?” He asked as he reached up to push his hair to the side.

“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.” You sighed, fiddling with the book that sat closed in your lap. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous.” Draco said, looking over at you with a sweet smile and you felt yourself warm at his words. “Well in that case,” You paused, looking out over the horizon of the lake. “Do you believe in soulmates?” You posed the question as if you were terrified he’d tell you it was utter rubbish, but when you heard him give you a little hum as he thought about it, Draco leaned over a little, resting his hand on your arm to get your attention.

Meeting his gaze, his blue eyes softened when he saw how nervous you looked and he wondered if someone had told you that it was all an old wives tale.

You seemed to become more shy under his touch and Draco smiled to himself, feeling that it was sweet that you seemed to get so flustered whenever he touched you, even though it had very rarely happened.

“I do, I believe in soulmates.” He reassured you. Draco wanted, with every fibre of his being to show you his book, to tell you everything. But he didn’t. “Did someone tell you it was...” He trailed off. “Stupid? Yeah.” You huffed out. “Do you think there’s someone out there for us?” You asked, relaxing a little as Draco leaned down to gently grip your hand.

“I know there is.” Draco smiled softly.

Sometimes I wonder if I already know you, you wrote. Perhaps we do know each other, but we won’t know until we reach the end of this book, he wrote only moments later. The trundle of the train rolling over the tracks began to lull you into a sleepy state as you sat in a mostly empty carriage on the Hogwarts Express. It was the end of term and while too much had really happened for you to fully compartmentalize and process it all yet, you took solace in knowing that you could figuratively lean on your soulmate for comfort.

You told him everything you felt, almost like a journal and in turn he did the same. He detailed his thoughts, his feelings and he came to you when his day had been too much, but neither of you were too specific. You wished you knew who he was so that you could give him physical comfort, so you could both lean on each other and you wished for this even more so now that you started to wonder if you already knew him.

I promise I’ll write to you as often as I can. You scribbled it down into the book. But there came no answer. And days after you had arrived in London and returned home for the holidays, there was still no response.

If only Draco could tell you what had happened. If only he could write to you and explain it all from beginning to end. But he had no idea if he could, because his only way of communicating with you was no longer in his possession.

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[pillarmenarevoregods]

Ask: Macro/Micro Vore Pillar Men and Joseph Joestar

First off, I am so so SO sorry for how long this took. Both real life responsibilities and the double standards I hold myself to about creating “quality content” meant my answer to this prompt sat in a half-finished state for a long time. I figure I should just post what I have now and hope it’s sufficient. 

@delcaty007​ (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Macro/Micro Vore, Multiple Pred Scenarios, M/M, Non-fatal, Unwilling, Fearplay, Mentions of Digestion)

I had several ideas for this, and kind of debated which ones were worth fleshing out (or at least what I’d have the time/motivation for). This might not be fully fleshed out stories, but I hope it’s cool still.

I’m writing this in a premise of post-Battle Tendency, through some means, the Pillar Men come back to seek revenge: Kars is brought back from space, Esidisi and Wamuu are revived, and Santana is out of the Speedwagon vaults. BUT they are 30 feet tall and have no idea why/how that happened. They also find many of their abilities missing, BUT also can be in the sun! Yay! And then they find out the hard way that they can’t digest anything. Joseph’s gonna be stuck in a couple different belly jails.

I decided to write these in the order that Joseph fought the Pillar Men in canon. These can technically be independent scenarios of each other, or you can imagine it as the pillar men taking turns sending Joseph down the hatch if you want. I hope you enjoy!

Santana

He sure remembers how annoying that little primitive named Joseph Joestar was to him, and he’s going to find out what happened to him

He quickly learns about the events that transpired with his fellow Pillar Men and knows Joseph is alive

He actually wanted to seek out that Major Von Stroheim asshole first, because of well… I wouldn’t blame him. However he finds out Stroheim died and well, a little disappointing, at least there’s still JoJo to seek out

Once he locates him, Santana literally plunges his hand into the roof of Joseph’s home and grabs him

Joseph attempts to hamon him, but is shocked that… it no longer affects the pillar man. And how did he even get this large?

Santana smirks, considering it dumb for JoJo to even try using hamon when he’s literally outside in the daylight, unharmed.

Deep booming chuckle, “You idiot primitive…” and he starts squeezing Joseph in his hand, thinking it’ll be satisfying to feel his bones snap.

THEN his stomach gurgles and he has a better idea

Without another word, he quickly pops Joseph in his mouth, tilts his head back and swallows him faster than Joseph can process what just happened.

Joseph goes down Santana’s throat in shock, thrashing, trying to climb his way back up, but the muscles of Santana’s esophagus are no match and pull him down to his doom.

Joseph lands on what seems to be trees, brush, and random animals (still alive). It seems like Santana tried swallowing a LOT of different things

Somewhat to his relief, Joseph notices that nothing has really digested.

Santana, on the other hand, can’t care less about what’s happening inside his stomach. He has that annoying JoJo right where he belonged. The weight in his stomach and the occasional minor sting of attempted hamon only tickled a bit. 

Joseph wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and Santana likewise said nothing when meeting back up with the other Pillar Men.

The first thought on their minds was to find Joseph too, and Santana had to press his tongue in his cheek at knowing that he simultaneously got to stick it to Kars by eating his “mortal enemy” before he could.  

Esidisi

He remembers how he died, and while on one hand respects Joseph for winning against him, isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get his own revenge

Finds Joseph out on a solo boating trip (convenient, right?) and all Joseph can see is some massive force swimming in the water rushing towards him

Esidisi rises up like a colossal beast, picking Joseph’s boat out of the water

“JoooJooo, it’s been a while, huh? What, like 10 years?” Esidisi makes sure to smile wide and show off his sharp teeth, bringing the small boat in his hand closer to his face.

Joseph probably pisses himself (let’s be real), screaming “OH MY GOD” or “HOLY SHIT,” which is music to Esidisi’s ears, causing him to belt out laughing.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, didya?!” Joseph doesn’t even have a response, he’s just thrashing and yelling at this point

“You remember our conversation about the Art of War, yeah? Well I hope you do. Sun Tzu told me one more bit of advice that has truly been the most beneficial to me...”

He lifts Joseph up above his face, “’Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer.’” before dropping Joseph in his open mouth.

Esidisi hums in appreciation as Joseph flails on his tongue before jerking his head back and giving a thorough swallow to send him down.

He places his hand over his stomach, relishing in the sensation of pounding helplessly at his stomach walls, and feeling confident that he can go back to Kars to report that JoJo has been “taken care of.”

After a long while of walking and swimming through the ocean, he notices Joseph was still active inside him. He would have started digesting by now, right?

Esidisi figures all that physical motion may be disrupting digestion, so he finds a coast to sit on and waits it out, occasionally making small remarks to the man inside him

Gets frustrated and cries eventually because why won’t he digest?? Esidisi at first accepted that there were caveats to being alive again and being able to see the Sun finally, but come on

He already couldn’t use his blood vessels, couldn’t absorb the only advantage he had was being giant and still being able to contort his body, and now he can’t even digest someone he’s eaten?

Joseph meanwhile is yelling and pounding on the stomach walls, trying to hamon his way out. Esidisi is very pleased to see that the hamon is ineffective inside him, in fact it just tickles a bit.

The little pounding and yelling and screams eventually become annoying, though. Esidisi has some important pondering he needs to do on what his new life is now, and the squirming noisy human in his stomach keeps distracting him.

He sits down somewhere to ponder whether the trade-offs are worth it, has to tell Joseph, “Shut up and let me think!”

Wamuu

When Wamuu “woke back up” and noticed his masters had, too, one of his first thoughts was strangely where Joseph Joestar was currently.

He wondered whether Kars had succeeded in killing him and taking ascended as the Ultimate Being.

However, when he saw Lord Kars, also made giant by whatever spell or curse has brought them all back to life and made them 30 feet tall, Wamuu could quickly assume by the tantrum he was throwing that Joseph had also defeated him in some way.

While Wamuu didn’t exactly WANT Joseph to defeat himself or Lord Kars, he still believed in a fair fight and that a winner should be able to keep their victory.

Hearing Kars and Esidisi plot together to find Joseph and enact revenge on him (hell, even Santana is making comments about finding “that annoying JoJo”), Wamuu realizes if he wants to ensure his opponent could keep his honor, he’ll have to find the Joestar before the other Pillar Men did.

While locating him, Wamuu picks up and swallows a bunch of humans (he’s a nervous eater, he needs to snack under pressure you know?)

After several hours of the humans still pounding and yelling inside of his stomach, he realizes something was off… they should have been digesting by now, yet they’re still alive and active

Wamuu thinks it’s only fair to spit them up and let them go. He’s a little embarrassed and tactfully apologizes to these humans, “I did not expect for you to still be alive. Please forgive me, if I had known you weren’t going to digest I wouldn’t have swallowed you in the first place.” Thanks good guy Wamuu, very reassuring.   

When he does find Joseph (on a camping trip in the middle of the woods, alone…), he kneels down in a clearing just as Joseph is about to approach that area.

Boy is he surprised to see a giant man kneeling in the normally empty field, especially a man he killed 10 years ago… but giant

“JoJo, we meet again.” Queue the “OH! MY! GODDD!” and trying to runaway classic Joseph Joestar style

Wamuu picks him up like an ant between his fingers and brings him closer to his face.

“I am doing this for your own good, JoJo.” and he opened his mouth wide, held a squirming yelling little Joseph over his mouth and dropped him in, tossed his head back and swallowed.

Unfortunately Wamuu forgot to tell Joseph that he wasn’t going to die,  only places his hand unconsciously over his stomach, kneading his thumb into the area Joseph is pounding at 

When meeting with his Masters (who were unsuccessful at finding Joseph… gee I wonder why) still has his hand over his belly, trying to sooth the commotion inside.

Kars even asks if Wamuu is ill, to which Wamuu responds with “I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.” Well, he’s not wrong

He will have to let Joseph out… eventually. But right now he just wants to keep him safe and hidden. When that will be? No one knows - especially not Wamuu or Joseph....

Kars

Oh, this man is NOT happy. All that time in space, going slowly insane? Yeah, he has it in for Joseph Joestar.

Just shortly after he stops thinking, he finds himself rapidly pulled back to Earth and suddenly much larger than he remembers being before.

It takes him a bit to gain all his thoughts back, but of course he’s elated once he realizes his companions are back as well.

After rejoicing the return of Esidisi and Wamuu (maybe at least a little happy to see Santana again, as well), he went about pursuing his new important goal

Joseph Joestar needed to feel the fear and despair he himself felt while drifting through space. He decided he wouldn’t kill him… yet.

He needed to see Joseph suffer the same way he had, killing him too quickly would just end that fun.

Kars wanted to take Joseph down in the most humiliating way - it’s only fair after being defeated in front of his enemies in such a humiliating way.

Joseph happened to be at his work office, doing business as usual in his life free of being a hamon warrior

Therefore, it was absolutely unexpected when a giant hand plunges through the glass pane window, grabs Joseph off-guard and holds him tightly in front of the face of the man in his nightmares.

In fact, he seriously just thinks he’s dreaming. Joseph covers his eyes and yells, “I’m dreaming! This is a dream! I’m going to wake up now in three, two, one…..”

Kars waits a beat for dramatic effect before hissing “Zero.” He licks his lips, being able to sense the pure dread and terror of his prey. Oh, it’s making him absolutely giddy

“I want you to know what it feels like, JoJo… To have all your hopes and dreams unfairly stolen from you.” Kars raises him high above his head, and watches the little man squirm. He’s definitely finding this cathartic.

“I drifted through space, not knowing if I’d ever escape that torture. All of my accomplishments going to waste, because of you! I believe it’s only fair, JoJo, that I give you a taste of what I experienced.”

Without much effort, he casually tosses Joseph high up in the air (but not too hard, because he doesn’t want Joseph to actually go into space

As Joseph falls back down from the sky, Kars waits with his mouth wide open and snaps his jaw shut once the screaming man lands in his mouth.

He doesn’t wait long before swallowing, while focusing on ever little sensation of his enemy wriggle down his throat. Finally, he’s conquered the Sun AND Joseph Joestar.

Even after several hours and realizing his stomach wasn’t digesting his prey, Kars accepted that it was poetic justice in a way that Joseph would remain alive, trapped for an indefinite amount of time in his stomach, just like he had been trapped in space

[ladywinterwitch]

Infamous Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sebastian Stan X Fan! Reader 

Summary: You were convinced by your eight years old Brother to attend Wizard world con. He absolutely wanted to see his favourite hero, the winter soldier. During the photo op, you catch the hero's eye.

Warnings: Just fluff, it kinda turns into a social media AU at the end (but it’s not, it’s just texts)

Word Count: 2987

A/n: Y’all this is more like a fever dream than anything, but a girl can always dream ;) But one thing’s for sure: I have met him and I assure you he is that charming and sweet. So sweet.

                                                 (Gif not mine)

You yawned, then procedeed to shake your head a bit, squeezing your eyes to try and stay focused. You've been up til late to finish an assignment for college, even though you knew that the morning after you would've had to wake up early. Why? Your little devil (no, in reality he was a sweetheart, but you really wanted to hate him for this) of a Brother convinced you to take him to Wizard World Con after your parents said no. 

-That’s totally your responsibility y/n. Try to take him home alive, will you?- those were the last words that your mother said to you before your departure. 

So there you were, driving a two hours trip, sleep deprived and with the only thing that keeps you alive awake being a cold brew latte from Starbucks. But someone else, precisely an eight year old way too hyperactive, was definetely more awake than you. The only thing stopping you from getting Harry to actually drive in your place was that he doesn’t have a driver license.

-Swoooosh! y/n look out! Captain America's shield is coming your way!- Harry screamed too loud for your liking. You rolled your eyes, narrowing them a bit for the noise, but playing along anyway.

-Oh no, help me.- you responded with the tiniest bit of enthusiasm that you could find.

-Don't worry, the winter soldier will catch with his metal arm!- he made a noise that was supposed to resemble the metal impact -You're safe now. Thank Bucky now.- He shoved a little action figure in your face and you gave it a slap.

-Harry don't do stuff like that! I'm driving. And who the hell is Bucky?- you huffed and then asked. You really didn't want a car crash to happen, especially not for a damn toy.

-What? He's the winter soldier! Bucky Barnes. You don't know that?- he said shocked.

-You Always call him Winter Soldier, and I haven't seen the movies, so no, I didn't know.- you responded.

-Don't worry, I'll fix it. So, James Buchanan Barnes was born on march 10 1917..- he started to tell his whole story, comic and movies and lore, just to be sure to not miss anything.

You mentally cursed yourself for asking and just hoped that at least this actor is a good person, if he was a duchebag, you probably wouln't have responded to your actions. Not just because it would be a tremendous disappointment for your brother, but also because your gas, money, time and sleep would've been wasted.

-

Harry finished his storytelling, and you murmured a 'Thank God' and commented that it was very interesting. But, even if it was a neverending ramble, it had been actually quite interesting. You never saw the movies, but now, hearing all that story, you thought about how difficult it must have been to bring everything to the screen. Not just story-wise, but also emotionally. All the dark things that he'd gone through.

-We're here buddy.- you announced as you parked outside the building.

-Yeah!- he cheered and clapped. You both got out of the car and while you were walking towards the entrance you saw some people. Some of them were in costume and some weren’t, but everyone had their pass on.

-Shit, I almost forgot.- you muttered looking in your bag and pulling out two passes and your IDs. You passed one to Harry while you kept the documents, and he put it around his little neck.

-Okay, now let's go inside and take look at the schedule c’mon.- he nodded happily and you went inside. You found yourself in the lobby and saw a sign that gave directions to the various rooms. You took the main corridor and arrived in a big common lobby, where a lot more people and several booths were present.

You walked in between, looking around. Some of the booths were mainly selling nerdy stuff, some t- shirts, some art, and so on. Others, that were empty, had above them a large paper board with a collage of the actors faces and their names.

-How's Bucky called again?- you asked your little brother.

-Sebastian Stan.- he answered, then pointing somewhere on your left.

-There! That's his table.- he ran towards the booth and you sighed, following him. You looked at the board and kinda tought that maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad. There were different photos, with different haircuts, but his handsome face was still the same. Blue eyes, sharp features, pink lips and a smile to die for.

-Well, damn.- you whispered to yourself, feeling definetly more awake.

Then you looked at the day’s schedule and saw that his first panel was at ten am. It was now nine thirty, so you wouldn't have to wait too long. You decided to go take your seats in the hall, and on the way you saw a few very long queues and your heart dropped a bit. It was going to be a long day.

-

The panel began exactly at the indicated time, and when the host annouced Sebastian, everyone cheered, screamed and clapped. He entered the stage with his fist in the air and a big smile.

You weren't exactly in first line, but you were close enough to see his figure clearly. He had a light grey tee shirt under a darker grey jacket, black jeans and brown suede shoes. His brown hair were slicked back and quite short at the sides, he had a scruff that adorned his sharp face.

You felt your stomach flutter a bit. You had never seen a man that attractive before. Not in real life at least. You were definetly going to watch those blessed movies once you got home.

-Hey everyone! How're you doing? Good? Yeah lemme hear ya!- he exclaimed with a big grin, laughing when the crowd cheered louder. You smiled and whoed a little with your Brother.

The panel begun and as the questions went on, you found out a few things about him: He couldn't take a compliment if his life depended on it, he was really smart and thoughtful, he was a dork but the adorable kind, he liked 80's rock and Star Wars. At some point a fan was so nervous to ask him her question that someone screamed 'someone give her a hug' and by everyone's shock she did recive that hug from Sebastian himself. You were a few seats away from the mic and took that opportunity to take a better look at him.

He squeezed her in his arms even raising her from the ground, and when he walked away laughing she fell on the floor. Same girl, same you thought.

After that little interruption the panel ended smoothly. He thanked everyone and said that he would see them at the photo ops.

You and your brother walked out of the hall to buy a snack. On the way to the vending machine you couln't stop thinking about him. You were bewitched by his voice, his mind and his appearence. How come you never found out about him before today? Harry was always talking about that Winter Soldier, but you thought that his interpreter deserved the same, if not more attention. But he was a little boy passionate about superheroes, so it was normal for him to prefer the punch and adventure kinda guy than tha thoughtful one.

-

Sebastian had his first photo op session and after his autograph session at four pm, and honeslty you didn't know what to do until then. It was just midday. So you looked at the schedule and opted for another actor's panel that was at three pm, maybe getting out a little early to take place in the queue.

From one to three pm there had been a lunch pause for everyone, so you and Harry went outside to eat a burger at a near diner. To get away from the crowd for a bit, but also because the food inside was hella expensive.

You had enough time to do everything calmly and you even had a brief call with your mother to update her.

-So, how was he?- she asked with a little excitement.

-Honestly? Surprising.- you laughed a bit.

-As good or bad?-

-Good. Very good. He seems like a very genuine and sweet person. We just saw his interview though. Maybe up close he'll be an asshole. But I doubt. He seemed like a really down to earth guy.- you heard her giggle a bit.

-My daughter has a crush on the superhero uh?- you blushed.

-What? No, no. I don't even know him, mom.- you quickly responded.

-Hey, chill honey. I was just messing with you. But I wouldn't blame you. You know, I've seen those movies under your brother's torture, but those pretty blue eyes didn't escape me. Nor did his even prettier face.- your mouth was agape.

-Mom!- she just chuckled like a schoolgirl.

-Oh, let an old woman dream a bit y/n. - your smirked and rolled your eyes.

-You're not old. Your fifties seem thirties, mom.You’re doing good.- you heard her sigh.

-My babygirl, always speaking the truth.- you laughed, shaking your head.

-I'll hear you later mom.-

-Later honey! Kiss the pretty soldier for me!- you hang up, shaking your head again. She was shameless.

-

This other actor's panel was interesting but not as much as Sebastian's one. Or maybe it was because you couldn't really concentrate. In any case four pm came rather quickly and you went outside to queue, and boy, did you wanted to run away.

An enormus line of people was already there, waiting. You told your brother to stay in line while you tried to see where it began. The first girls were in front of a closed blue tent, a big large bodyguard in front of it. You sighed, defeated, and went back to Harry.

After a few minutes the queue started to move. You were just behind the middle, and almost felt sorry for the people in the back, but you wouldn't have moved for any reason in the world.

You played a little with a game on your phone, looked at the notifications, the news and even searched for the weather broadcast for the day after. It was supposed to be sunny, just like today.

Speaking of sun, you began to feel a little hot, so you took off your black leather jacket and were left with your pale pink short shirtdress. You really liked that dress because it reminded you a bit of the 50's. You loose braid fell from your shoulder on your back when you slipped off the jacket.

You looked at your brother that apparently was more social than you, because he had been able to found a few other children to play with. Then you gazed at the line and you were surprised when you saw that just a few more people were in front of you. With all the people in front of you you were honestly surprised that it took just twenty minutes, but on the other hand, it didn't take ages to take a photo either.

You put your phone away, not wanting to waste any more battery before you got to your hotel in the evening. A lttle past five it was your turn. The bodyguard checked your passes and got you in.

Your brother straight up ran to Sebastian, hugging his hips, his head barely reached his stomach.

-Hey bud! It's good to see you too. What's your name?- he chuckled squatting in front of him.

You remained in the corner watching. You didn’t buy a photo, so you weren’t supposed to appear. You had your arms crossed, your bag and jacket pressed on your chest. You grinned looking at the scene.

-Harry.- he answered proudly. Sebastian nodded, keeping his smile. Then he looked up, straight at you. His gaze locked on you. Your smile faded and a tremendous blush took place.

-And who's that, Harry?- he asked, a little smirk on his lips.

-That's my big sister y/n!- he exclaimed. Sebastian got up putting a hand on your brother's shoulder.

-Isn't your sister taking the photo?- his look never left your figure.

-Uh-Uhm...no, I just accompanied him.- you responded nervously with a gesture of your hand. He shook his head making a fake disappointed face.

-Nah, you're too pretty to not be included. What do you think pal?- your brother begged with a c'mon and you reclutantly gave up, passing your jacket and bag to the assistant with an apologetic smile. Then you walked to them and you were finally face to face with him. He was taller than you, your head reached his ear more or less.

-Hi.- you said, not really knowing what to do. He flashed a big grin.

-Hi to you.-

-Mr, there's still line outside.- the assistant said and you looked away embarassed.

-Yeah, sorry. Big smile.- Sebastian said, while he circled Harry, who was showing off his non existing muscles, with one hand, and the other was placed on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The little tug making you instictively place a hand on his chest. They were both smiling, so you did your best and gave the camera a small shy smile of your own.

-Done!- the photographer said. You moved and the assistant gave you your stuff.

-Thankyou.- you said to the handsome man. He winked.

-My pleasure.- after that you exited the tent in front of you. You brother went away jumping from the joy, while you stayed behind, walking slowly. You still didn't process what just happened. You touched unconsciously your side, where his hand was, smiling like an idiot.

-

You went to fetch the photo, and while Harry was basically flying with happiness, you couldn't stop yourself to look at how close he was holding you, your hand on his chest your rosy cheeks and his handsome grin. Your heart was about to burst.

The photo ops were over about half an hour later, and the authographs should’ve been starting in fifteen minutes. Your mind wasn't giving you a break. You kept repeating what happened in your head. At first you felt like a damn teenager in love, but then more bitter questions started to take place in your mind. Was he joking? Was he always this flirty with everyone? Was he even single in the first place? Was he just trying to get you to relax or was he hitting on you?

All these questions almost made you decide to not accompany your brother at the autograph booth. But then you just decided that you just couldn't do that, so you took a deep breath and went to queue. This time you arrived a little early, so you were on the first half thankfully. The wait was just about ten minutes.

You were next. Harry left to you the task to give him the photo to sign, just because you were taller and had better access to the table. You slipped the picture under his eyes and as soon as he recognized you, he looked up and smirked.

-Hey again.- he said with a suave tone, signing the photo. -Hey bud, are you having fun?- he asked and you looked at the little boy next to you with a smile.

-Yes! I'm your biggest fan! The winter soldier is my favourite character- he told him. You returned your gaze to Sebastian and he took the photo in his hand, passing it to you. A small smile on his lips while he watched you. You gave him a shy smile in return and felt yourself melting. You took the photo and thanked him again.

-Thank you bud. And thank you.- he spoke to you. You gave a small nod and went on.

-

After the autographs you went around a bit between the merchandise booths and ended up buying a winter soldier backpack for your Brother, then you went out to grab dinner. It was just six thirty, but you were both hungry. You eated then you sent a text to your mother saying that everything was okay. You didn't wanted to go into details.

Then you drove for a few minutes to the nice hotel you booked for the night. As soon you stepped into the room, Harry changed into his Avengers pajamas and started to watch tv.

You unpacked the only change you brought, then you wanted to put in the suitcase the documents,passes and the other stuff, but your eyes fell on the back of the photo. You took it into your hand and saw that a yellow sticky note was attached at the back.

Can't give u my number, but feel free to text me in instagram dms Seb ;)  

You were  shocked. Sebastian fucking Stan asked you to text him? You went into the bathroom with your phone, needing a moment to recompose yourself.

-Oh my God.-  you did a face palm. Walking up and down the little bathroom, you nervously toyed with the phone in your hands.

What should I do? I mean the worst that can happen is that he'll not respond. But he should, 'cause he did write the note.Your mind was spinning. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

-Oh, fuck it.- you huffed and opened instagram. You had an account but had barely two posts. You weren't the type to post or stalk people, but you did follow a lot of pages with art, photography, music and movie stuff.

You searched his user and then tapped to the dm icon. His profile pic was a black and white photo

You wrote at least five different senteces, but then went for the simplest. Then you closed the app, blocked the screen and waited. You decided to refresh yourself in the meantime. You brushed your teeth and just when you were about to take off the make up on your eyes, a notification popped up.You took the phone and unblocked it with shaky hands.

You closed the app and went back to your room with a smile plastered on your face, and almost didn't notice that your brother had fallen asleep. You you covered him with the bed covers, turned the tv off and then changed into your pjs and went to bed. You couln't wait for Tomorrow.

So, first off, I feel the need to precise that OBVIOUSLY the chat is fake and photoshopped. It’s kind of obvious, but ya know not everyone has enough braincells I guess. Just to be sure. Anyways, hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought <3

[amarynceus]

State of the Artist - September 2019

Hello all.  It’s been a while since I did one of these.

Sorry for the lapse in communication; BronyCon drained me more than I realised, on top of fighting the general burnout and anxiety and minor depressive episodes I’ve had for some time.  I’m just coming out of one that ate the last week and a half or so (I managed to destroy a client's watercolour painting right as it was on the verge of completion) and am trying to get back on track.  I haven’t had energy for being online or interacting with people; about the only site I’ve been active on is Twitter, and only sporadically.  My apologies to those who have sent me messages lately; chances are I haven’t even seen them yet.  I’ll do my best to catch up on correspondence as soon as I can.

Now, a few items.

BronyCon Commissions

First of all, if you commissioned me at BronyCon but haven’t yet sent me your mailing address, please do so! I still have no place to send a half dozen or so of these commissions, and no way of contacting anyone.  If you’ve lost the business card I gave you when you commissioned me, please email me at amarynceus78@gmail.com with your mailing address and a brief description of what you commissioned so I can match it with my notes from the convention.

My apologies for the delays on these.  I took too many (3 dozen!) and severely underestimated the time it would take me to complete them all, and am still only halfway through the list.  I’ve also had multiple interruptions and delays that have severely damaged my creative output for the last several weeks.  I’m back at work now, though, and will complete and send out commissions as soon as possible.  I still have 17 traditional comms to complete from BC, including all the inks and colours.  Thank you all for your patience.  A dozen or so have been mailed out, and I plan to have the rest of them completed within the next two weeks.

(I know that’s what I said a month ago when I took the commissions in the first place!  Con crud and general exhaustion took a greater toll than anticipated, quite apart from other life interruptions.)

BronyCon in Retrospect

BronyCon was quite the experience.  Way too many people for me, but it was really great to see so many wonderful horse people, and to see so many of my beautiful trans siblings out and proud. <3  I wish I had had more energy to do and see things outside of the vendor’s hall, but four days of vending took basically all of my energy. It was amazing to get to hang out with so many friends I've made online; that was by far the best part.  I didn't get to spend near enough time with any of you, but I'm thankful for the time I had.

Thanks again to all those who dropped by my booth at BronyCon to say hi or to buy my art.  It was quite the experience, and great to meet many fans in person.

That said, it was extremely exhausting. 11,000 people was a bit much for me, especially having only done one convention before.  I'm glad all the conventions I'm thinking of applying to vend at next year are much smaller affairs.

Patreon Paused

My Patreon continues to be on hiatus until I’ve caught up more on my past-due rewards.  It will be paused through October and possibly November.  Please note that I have ‘Charge Up Front’ enabled, so I’d suggest those interested in supporting my Patreon campaign sign on at the $1 tier for now, even if you’re eyeing a higher tier.

If you want to donate to support me during the hiatus, my PayPal is via avatarzbrown@gmail.com.

General Commission Notes

I am very close to completing my current queue of in-progress works.  Once I do so, I’ll be going on holiday to recharge.  I’ve been running on empty for far too long.  

I’ll be taking on new commissions once I’m completely caught up on the art I owe people, and not before.

Burnout and Depression

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been struggling with these.  This year has been difficult for me; I’ve been struggling with a lot of health issues, physical and mental, and it’s been extremely difficult to get any artwork done, either for others or myself.  Indeed, I’ve hardly been drawing for myself at all since the end of the 1000 Days of Doodles.  When I can manage to force myself to be productive, I’m compelled to work on my long-overdue commissions; I feel too guilty and anxious to work on my own projects most of the time.  This is most likely only further contributing to my general malaise with art.

I had a lot of plans and ambitions for this year.  By this point I was supposed to have created an artbook of the 1000 Days of Doodles project, be four months past the launch my long-delayed comic, caught up with all my patron rewards and gift art, completed all my commissions, and have finished two dozen more paintings that have been bubbling around for a while.  

I have managed to do exactly zero of these things, and I’m not at all happy about it.  After completing almost 550 individual artworks in 2018, I expected, once I had rested and recovered, to be able to turn that kind of energy and productivity on other things.  That has not happened, and it has been disheartening and disappointing, to say the least.  I’ve basically been feeling like a total failure and imposter, flawed and fake and worthless. (I know this isn’t true.)

Of course, one problem is that I never rested and recovered.  I gave myself a little time at the start of the year, but I tried to force myself back to work too soon, and have been paying the price ever since.  I kept telling myself, 'I’m just a bit tired, another week and I’ll feel fine,' week after week after week - it’s only lately that I’ve had to admit that I’ve actually been fighting burnout.  If I had taken an extra month at the beginning of the year, perhaps I could have averted this; that’s just idle speculation, though.

Anyway, I could go on and on, but I have to deal with things the way they are.  I’ll keep chipping away at the work and dig myself out of this hole.  Thank you for your patience.  I'll get everything done as soon as I can.

Cheers and take care of yourselves.  Burnout stinks.

- AZ / Amar

Again, if you haven’t sent me your mailing address for your BronyCon commission, please send it and a description of your piece to amarynceus78@gmail.com.

[danyka-fendyr]

As the Raven Flies: Part 3

Okay, everybody, you know the drill at this point. I write, I edit, I queue and post, and then I sit here desperately awaiting your feedback while hoping Tumblr didn’t royally screw this whole thing up. Ah, the joys of posting your fic on a barely functional site and trying to keep a schedule. The good news is, the apocalypse is always tomorrow depending on who you ask, and it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere, so just hang in there kids!

Wordcount: 2641 approximately because I may have written this last minute sue me

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli @disengagefrmreality

(Look! We’re at three people in the taglist now!)

Vivien tried to listen in on their conversation, but they went outside to talk, much to her chagrin. Slowly, what little she could hear of their voices faded away. And then she was fast asleep, gone until the next morning.

Vivien hated mornings more than anything else in the world. This was for two reasons, the weekday reason and the weekend reason. The weekday reason was, of course, that she had to go to school. She didn’t exactly hate school, but she would have honestly preferred to just learn of her own volition. Not to mention the anxiety deadlines gave her. Reason number two was just that she had to wake up. There was just something so pleasant about sleeping when you were as exhausted as Vivien was all the time.

“Vivien, sweetie, you have to get up. You have school.” Karen’s voice spoke softly from above her as Vivien groaned, refusing to open her eyes.

It was always so bright during the day. She hated it. She hated everything.

“I don’t want to go. Can’t I just call in sick?”

“Sorry kiddo, but that’s not going to happen unless you start puking into my potted plant.”

“Darn it.” Vivien cracked open an eye to glare balefully up at her current nemesis, former role model.

“I made smoothies,” Karen bribed her.

“Really?”

“Really. I also made you a lunch to take to school and set out some clothes for you. All you have to do is get in the shower.”

“Ugh. I guess.” Vivien crawled out of bed, body limp and floppy. “Thanks Karen.”

“You’re welcome. Now go!”

Vivien hopped in the shower, borrowing Karen’s toiletries. She already had a spare toothbrush here since Karen let her sleep over pretty often. Said she needed to get away from the boys sometimes, and Vivien agreed.

She plugged her iPod into the alarm clock dock, unashamedly playing Love Bug. What? The Jonas Brothers made a comeback. They were totally cool again.

She pulled on the clothes Karen had put together for her that Matt had brought over after finishing his nightly patrol. Admittedly Matt had only been able to find them because after the first time this had happened it had gone so poorly she’d left a few spare sets of clothes laying around in her room where Matt could find them, but she’d give him credit anyway. She also may have done some lip-syncing and dancing, but that was between her, God and the downstairs neighbor.

She headed out to the kitchen, and Karen handed her a smoothie in a Mason jar with a straw. “You, missie, are going to be late, and so am I. Go!”

Vivien swung her backpack (also courtesy of Matt, bless his soul) over her shoulder and ran out the door to catch the bus as Karen pulled on her heels, nearly flashing everyone in the hallway while also narrowly missing landing on her face. Vivien steadied her with one arm before taking the steps two at a time, just barely making it before Janet closed the bus doors. She flashed the elderly lady a smile before finding a seat.

School was what school always was. Mostly boring. Her AP classes were fun, but everything else was painfully easy. It wasn’t that Vivien thought she was smarter than everyone else. In contrast, she was firmly under the impression that everyone else was just very, very, abysmally stupid. Poor creatures.

Eventually, her school day started to come to a close. She survived her second least favorite part, gym, only to make it to the worst part of her day. Every Wednesday, like clockwork, she reported to the school counselor’s office. She wasn’t required to do so by the school, but she was required to do so by her own mind. She had conditioned herself to want to do it by buying herself a soda afterwards. It sort of worked. She still hated it, but she was here, wasn’t she?

She took a seat on the other side of the counselor’s desk, trying to seem pleasant and dare she say it, happy.

“Hello Mrs. Brannigan.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hello Miss Fairchild. How have you been since we last met?”

“Oh, the usual.” Vivien fake smiled again. She did a lot of that here. “Just working hard at my studies.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded. “And making new friends.”

Vivien grimaced. “I have friends, Mrs. Brannigan. They just don’t go here.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded, but she didn’t seem like she believed her. “I just think it would be best if you were friends with some of your peers as well.”

“I’m friendly with my peers. Isn’t that enough?” Vivien jutted her chin out, sharp eyes drilling into the counselor.

Mrs. Brannigan did not balk. Mrs. Brannigan didn’t seem like the kind of person to balk. She seemed like the kind of person to continue blinking placidly even if the building was burning down around her, her mousy brown hair coated in ashes and her dark eyes clouded with smoke.

“I’m afraid not, Vivien.” Oh good. They were dropping the formalities now. “You need friends at school. People you can rely on.”

“I rely on Mr. Carp to give me a good art grade.”

Mrs. Brannigan had the nerve to give her The Look. The sort of look you give someone when you want to convey that you are absolutely done with their nonsense. Vivien was very familiar with this look. Not only had she been on the receiving end of it many times, but she had also leveled it on Matt and Foggy many, many times, even though only the latter half of that duo could see it.

“Do you ever let yourself be happy, Vivien?”

“Yes.” The answer was immediate, and apparently, it was too quick for Mrs. Brannigan.

“What makes you happy then?”

Vivien blinked at her. It wasn’t like she could tell the woman that leaping across rooftops at night and fighting criminals was what made her happy. That would get her put in an institution, at best.

“Music,” was the first thing she choked out.

“How so?” Mrs. Brannigan folded her hands together, placing them on the desk and leaning forward.

“I like dancing to it. You know, just...by myself. It’s fun.”

Mrs. Brannigan nodded. “Well, at least you still know what happiness is.”

Vivien was pretty sure it was meant to be a joke, but it hit a little too close to home. She knew this was supposed to be good for her, but she really did hate it. It wasn’t that Mrs. Brannigan wasn’t a nice lady, but Vivien liked to handle her problems herself. This was entirely too foreign and unpleasant and exposing for her.

“And your family?” Mrs. Brannigan spoke softly. “Have you...been to visit their graves lately?”

It was like someone had found Vivien’s off switch and abruptly flipped it. The light fell out of her eyes, the fake smile from her mouth, and she became just another mannequin sitting in that office, eyes glazed and staring into the distance. She was just...empty.

“Every Sunday. I bring flowers after church.”

“That’s good.” Mrs. Brannigan’s voice was soft, and her face conveyed that she did not think anything that was happening right now was good, an understandable reaction when your patient completely shut down.

“Yeah.” Vivien stared down at her empty palms sitting in her lap.

Uninvited, her brain conjured up an image of them covered in blood. She could hear ringing in her ears, and she closed her eyes tight against it. She shook her head, shaking his voice out of her ears.

Her eyes were wet when she opened them again.

“Well, I think that will be all for today,” Mrs. Brannigan said.

She sounded disappointed, but they both knew she wouldn’t get much farther with Vivien like this. She had tried their first few sessions, but it never worked. At some point, she pushed too hard, and Vivien shut off. They were just working on waylaying that point at the moment.

“You should work on making some new friends though. I’m sure your classmates are all very nice people. Perhaps someone who sits next to you?”

“Okay,” Vivien said numbly.

They both knew she wouldn’t really try. Or maybe she would, and she just wouldn’t try hard enough to succeed. What a familiar feeling that would be.

“I’ll see you for our next session Miss Fairchild.”

“Yeah. See you then. Thank you Mrs. Brannigan.”

Vivien took her backpack, grateful she always saved her counseling sessions for the last part of her day. She swung by one of the vending machines to buy a cream soda before heading out to catch her bus. She popped her headphones on, drinking her soda as the driver pulled the bus forward. 

She stared out the window on the way home, trying to think of anything that wasn’t the color red. This was difficult, considering the fact that Matt wore almost entirely red. She did her best though, trying to take herself back to this morning, when she had been happy with Karen, taking breakfast onto the bus.

But the truth of the matter would always be that she could never go back to who she was.

So instead she escaped. Usually her coping mechanism involved punching people, but that was probably not the best option at this very moment in time, so instead she chose a more literal form of escapism. She pulled George Orwell’s 1984 out of her backpack, flipping to the middle of the book. Was it required reading? No. But it was interesting, that was for sure.

She spent the rest of the bus ride drinking cream soda and reading her book, avoiding the attention of other students. Lately, that hadn’t been much trouble. There had been a certain amount of morbid fascination with her after everything first happened, but it only took a few months for that to wear off, and then came what always came to survivors of great tragedies. She became a social pariah, someone no one wanted to be around or actively interact with if they could help it. After all, no one liked a reminder of the darker moments of their lives, and the walking talking ones were the worst kind. Vivien knew this better than anyone.

She used to have friends. Of course she had. You didn’t get to your senior year of high school without ever having any friends at all, fake or otherwise, and Vivien had the oddly good fortune to be something resembling not unpopular. This fell apart quickly though after her own great tragedy.

Some of them decided that she was simply no longer worth socializing with. That might have hurt if she hadn’t been dealing with far more pressing losses. The others she managed to slowly push away. It started with her new, unapproachable personality. She was pointedly aloof, exaggeratedly lifeless. She didn’t want anything to do with anyone, that much was clear.

She had a few friends who were more persistent than that though. Sometimes she missed them. Right now she missed them. Maybe they had pitied her, maybe they had loved her. It was hard for Vivien to tell the difference these days. Either way, she had to actively tell them to go away, scream at them until they ran for the hills. After everything that had happened to her, she just wanted to be left alone.

She just wanted to be left alone.

“Hey, Fairchild.”

Vivien’s eyes snapped open. She had closed them, head resting against the back of the seat at an awkward angle that would have left her staring at the ceiling if she had kept her eyes open. After a few moments of that undesirable view, she changed her mind and decided to rest her eyes for a minute.

The face she now saw hovering above her own was disappointingly familiar. Wide blue eyes, half a smile, and night black hair that was longer than it probably should be, but not long enough to necessarily be considered long. She only knew him because he had been the only person in the entire school not to spend a brief period trying to bother her as much as he possibly could during the brief interim where she was a person of interest. She sort of didn’t hate him for that, which was unfortunate, because she was pretty sure she was about to.

For a long moment, Vivien considered telling him to go away. Mrs. Brannigan’s voice echoed in her head though, begging her to just please, please try. She sighed, rolling her eyes before rolling her neck, turning around and deciding to play nice.

“Hello Hunter. Your hair is stupid.”

He laughed. She had known he would. He was good at that. Laughing in the face of adversity.

“Thanks. So, how have you been?”

“Oh, the usual. Annoyed. Unapproachable. Trying to decide if I should be goth or punk.”

“Ah, but your prep aesthetic is working so well for you!” He said, with feigned dismay.

Vivien cracked a smile, despite her best efforts. “Yeah, well, I’ve been keeping an eye on Jessica Jones, and her whole leather jacket thing seems to really be working out for her.”

“Fair point. I would like to counter with the fact that it is the woman that makes the clothes, not the clothes that make the woman.” James Hunter settled his arms on the back of my otherwise empty bus seat, resting his head on them.

“If that’s true, then why should I keep the prep clothes?” she countered.

She thought for sure that would stump him, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Because I like them. Not that my opinion particularly matters, as you have made very clear, but wouldn’t you rather have one of us insignificant fools like your clothes than none of us insignificant fools?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Alright. I’ll keep the button downs, Hunter, but only because I don’t want to go shopping.”

“Heaven forbid you have to buy anything that isn’t a sweater vest, am I right?”

“I don’t wear sweater vests.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Sometimes you do.”

He was right. Sometimes she did.

“They’re hand me downs, okay?”

He took his head off his hands to raise them in the air, a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging Fairchild.”

“I just want you to know that I’m only talking to you because my therapist said I need friends.” She wasn’t sure why she told him that.

“Well, normally I would say that Mrs. Brannigan is full of it, but I think she might actually be right about that. You’ve been painfully alone since the beginning of the year, are you aware of that?”

“Acutely so.”

“I would ask what happened there, but that doesn’t really seem like any of my business.”

Vivien raised an eyebrow. She had...not been expecting him to say something so utterly self-aware.

“Not yet, anyway. I expect you’ll want to be friends first before you tell me why you have none.”

“And who said we were going to be friends, Hunter?”

“I did. Good news Fairchild, you are no longer beholden to Mrs. Brannigan’s unreasonable demands. I promise to be low maintenance.”

She squinted at him before the corner of her lips quirked up a little bit. “Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

The smile fell right off her face. “Don’t do that.”

“Right. Sorry. Uhh...hope to get high.”

Vivien snorted with the unexpected humor of it. Everyone knew Hunter was clean as a whistle.

“There you go. We’ll have you smiling again in no time, Fairchild.”

“No promises Hunter.”

The bus screeched to a halt as she spoke.

“As much as I would like to extort some promises out of you in turn, I do believe this is your stop, Vivien.”

She looked up, and sure enough, they were in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled at her again, and she told herself that she only smiled back out of obligation.

“See you tomorrow, James.”

[starlight-matrix]

Caffè Mocha & Ristretto

Here’s my Voltron Secret Santa fic, for @shouberry​​!! This is for the @voltron-ss​​ and goddamn, I’m so proud of this fic. Shouberry, you gave me a Good set of prompts to work off of, and with help from some friends, I shaped them into what is honestly one of the best fics I’ve written (and I’ve written many).

Pair: Keith/Lance Rating: Teen & Up (for language)

Can’t Take It In - Imogen Heap / AO3 Version

Chapter One For All That’s To Come...

Lance loves his job.

Scratch that, Lance really loves his job. Just saying he loves it isn't enough, and even saying he really loves it isn't enough either, honestly. There's simply too many reasons to love working at Mouse Circus Coffee for him to accurately describe exactly why he loves it, though that may also be because there simply isn't just one reason why he loves it.

Needless to say, Lance loves his job.

Mouse Circus Coffee is a quaint cafe that perhaps should have had more thought put into its name, because it serves much more than just coffee. It's a cafe, but so incredibly unique; one could treat it like a Starbucks: come in, order your preferred drink and odd pastry, and leave. Or, one could treat it like a small restaurant or diner: find an empty seat, peruse the menu until a server comes to accomodate you, enjoy your chosen meal, and leave an hour later with a tip stuck in the spiral of the little metal stand that holds the special brochure.

This uniqueness is one of the things that brought Lance to Mouse Circus Coffee in the first place (though the fact that his college roommate works there was a large part of the motivation to visit; as if the offer of decent coffee within walking distance of his college campus wasn't motivation enough).

However, there are so many other things that led him to wanting to stay. Like how the cushions on the dusted rose armchairs are shaped like mice, and that the only lights that are ever on in the cafe are fairy lights hung on every wall, and how the regulars are the sweetest, most good-natured of people despite the fact that most of them survive on just caffeine alone.

When Lance first inquired about getting a job at Mouse Circus Coffee, Hunk - his relatively new college roommate and self-proclaimed best friend - had been positively ecstatic. Lance sometimes wonders if perhaps his chances of actually getting the job would have been lower had he not befriended the establishment's beloved chef, but then he thinks no way, because he knows Allura would not have hired him at all had she not seen promise in him, whether he was friends with her chef or not.

Allura Altea, the owner of Mouse Circus Coffee and the reason for its mouse theme, is the kind of person who never fails to impress Lance in one way or another. She inherited the cafe when her parents unfortunately passed away, and has done such a stellar job of maintaining the place that Lance dares to say Mouse Circus Coffee is the only cafe in the city he'd ever want to frequent, partly because he knows he'll never be able to settle for any other chain's product now that he's sampled perfection.

Allura, with her British accent and perfectly styled curls and wonderful management skills, had hardly interviewed Lance at all before deciding he was fit to be an employee in her cafe. She'd had him make a simple order after showing him the basics of the equipment, and when the result was deemed satisfactory, she'd handed him a t-shirt the same color as the armchairs with mouse-shaped cushions on them and said, “Welcome to the circus.”

Lance is actually quite proud of how quickly he's melded himself to the clockwork of Mouse Circus Coffee. It's hardly been a week since he first started working each afternoon, yet he feels like he knows all his coworkers and customers better than anyone else in his life who isn't related to him by blood.

“One Americano with two extra shots of espresso and extra cream, and two croissants with raspberry filling. Will that be all for you today?”

“Ah, I'd like to get some coffee art, in my Americano. A cat, perhaps?”

Lance gives the older woman a sympathetic smile, sad in knowing he'll have to turn her down when there's such an excited sparkle in her eyes. “I'm sorry, but the employee who does the coffee art is actually away for the week. None of the other employees know how to do it.”

“I see. That's alright, though I can't deny I'm a little disappointed.”

“You're not the first person to say that. I've only been working here for a week and I've had someone ask me for coffee art at least five times every day.”

“Well, it is the reason I chose to come here. I've heard it's quite famous.”

“Yeah, our coffee art has gotten quite popular. I hope you like it here enough to come back though, our coffee artist will probably be here next time you come in. Anyway, will that be all for today?"

The woman nods, and Lance gives her another smile before hurrying off to fulfill her order. He lets out an exasperated sigh. The number of times people have asked for coffee art is unreal, and he hates having to turn them all down when every single person who's asked has had the same sparkle in their eyes as this woman did.

Lance has only heard stories about the famed Coffee Art Guy. He doesn't know his name, because despite how many times he's heard about the guy from his coworkers, they never seem to slip his name out, and Lance hasn't asked for it. He doesn't know why they haven't said his name; it could could be some secret, the never-reveal-coffee-art-guy’s identity pact for all he knows.

After all, Lance has only been working at Mouse Circus Coffee for a week, and while he likes to think he knows his coworkers pretty well by now, the simple truth is that he really doesn't.

(With the exception of Hunk, that is. But that's only because they live together, and there's a certain kind of intimacy that comes with living together which makes a difference in a relationship, no matter how long you've actually known each other.)

Lance shuffles past their resident coffee genius, Pidge, when he gets behind the counter, grabbing a cup off the stack and handing it to her as he passes, opting to move a little quicker when he catches sight of the crease in her brow and the long line of customers in the to-go queue.

Coran is working the register while Pidge churns out orders, and Lance would suggest Coran help her if he didn't know just how disastrous that would actually be. There's a very good reason why Coran isn't allowed to touch any edible product in the cafe, and the memory of how the cappuccino machine had exploded into an inorganic black mess the third day of working here makes Lance shudder as he makes his way to the pastry display.

Lance pops two of Hunk’s prized raspberry-filled croissants in the toaster oven and moves to Pidge's side, waiting for her to finish her current order and shuffle out of the way before he starts on his own. They twirl around each other like some sort of effortless dance fueled purely by the instinct not to run into each other, which would result in the spilling of scalding hot beverages and an excessive amount of uncouth swearing that would likely earn them a lecture from Hunk and Allura on professionalism.

“Hey Lance, can you pass me the- thanks.” Pidge doesn't get to finish her question before a can of whipped cream is in her hands. Lance doesn't have to say anything at all before she's sliding the nozzle for hot cream over into his waiting cup. He hands her the chocolate shavings, and she opens the toaster oven that is now beeping incessantly so he can pull out the two croissants and add them to his tray alongside the Americano (that is, unfortunately, very much free of coffee art).

Lance does a spin to keep his tray from bumping Pidge and brings the contents of it to the old woman, who thanks him politely, and proceeds to take a long drink of her coffee that would make anyone else flinch at the temperature of it. Lance goes off to serve the next table, where he is once again forced to explain why they can't actually give anyone coffee art until the weekend, when Coffee Art Guy is supposed to return.

Lance, despite having only worked at Mouse Circus Coffee for a week - exactly a week as of today, in fact - knows the names of all the regulars who visit during his afternoon shifts, and as of today, he's proud to say that he has officially memorized all of their orders, so long as none of them change it suddenly. He's always been good at memorizing things, as much as he dislikes constant repetition and routine, which is a skill that he praises when three regulars in a row come up in the to-go queue during the evening rush. (Why a cafe known specifically for good coffee and coffee art is so busy at 5 PM in the evening, Lance may never understand.)

The whole cafe is working hard to keep up with the crowd. Lance is manning the register, helping Hunk and Pidge churn out drinks like an industrial machine endlessly creating product, Allura and Coran are waiting on tables and delivering the orders that he, Hunk, and Pidge make to keep the wait line at the end of the counter from blocking the way.

There's no one to stay in the kitchen, since Hunk is needed out front and Allura is the only other person on shift who's allowed into the sacred temple, and chaos ensues whenever one of them has to go get more of whatever item they're out of and leaves the rest of the staff one member down for however many minutes it takes to locate said item.

It's busy, and they're all working hard, and everyone is relieved when the clock hits 5:30 and the crowd starts to thin, until it's only the exasperated college students who come in needing caffeine to get them through their all-night cram sessions.

“Damn, I'm impressed. You memorized the names and orders of all our afternoon regulars?” Pidge asks during a free moment.

Everyone has gone back to their normal stations now that the rush is over; Hunk retreating into the kitchen to test out a new cookie recipe, Coran and Allura to the back office, presumably to work out the cafe’s bills. The only customers in the cafe right now have already been  served and are simply enjoying their drinks in comfort, and all the tables and floors are clean, so Lance and Pidge are taking the moment of peace to chat.

“Yeah,” Lance answers. “I've always been good at memorizing things. It's the only reason I passed my high school exams, to be honest.”

Pidge nods in both sympathy and understanding and leans back against the counter, sipping her flat white espresso while Lance works on refilling their sprinkles containers, somehow managing not to spill anything.

“Pidge, ask me how many times I was asked if the Coffee Art Guy is back yet today.”

“No.” Pidge says immediately.

“Ask me.”

“No.”

“Ask me. Please.”

“How many times were you asked if the Coffee Art Guy is back yet today, Lance?” Pidge says, more as a statement than an actual question.

“Seven times. Seven times, Pidge!” Lance exclaims, throwing his hands in the air indignantly, pouting when Pidge just laughs at him. “Just how famous is this guy, anyway?”

“I dunno, people just seem to really enjoy the fact that he makes cute cat faces in cream. To be honest, I doubt he even realizes that people come here specifically to buy coffee art.”

“Will I ever get to know anything about him other than the fact that he draws cats in coffee cream and has seven people a day coming in asking for him?”

Pidge takes another sip of her drink and sets it on the counter behind her, shifting to get more comfortable. “Well, he's Allura’s brother-in-law, but he was an employee here before she married his brother.” She pauses to think. “He drives a motor scooter. A red one.”

“That's it? C’mon Pidge, it's like he's an enigma!”

“What the hell else do you want me to tell you?”

“A name, maybe? What he looks like??”

“Oh, his name’s-”

The jingle of the bells above the door of the cafe interrupts Pidge before she can finish, and she and Lance turn toward the sound out of habit to greet the new arrival, and Lance is met with an incredibly frustratingly handsome man.

Lance has always thrived off of good fashion and style, and this guy pisses him off in that department, with his cherry red track pants and a hoodie with black and white diagonal stripes, and a fucking mullet that covers his neck and most of his face and looks like it hasn't been maintained in months. And what's worse, Lance thinks, is that despite all the glaringly bad choices this particular man has made concerning his appearance, he still manages to pull it off and look stunningly attractive.

“Keith!”

Lance watches as Pidge hurries around to pounce on Mullet Man (Keith, apparently), latching on like a koala clinging to its mother. Mullet Man scrambles to wrap his arms around her and regain his balance to keep them both from falling, and Lance puts down the sprinkles container he's half-finished filling to watch them with piqued interest, one eyebrow raising when Pidge smiles a smile he's never seen on her before.

Lance is still standing there, just watching, when Allura bursts through the swinging doors that separate the cafe from the back halls, one of the doors banging loudly on the wall behind it with the force of her entrance and making Lance (and the few customers remaining in the cafe) flinch at the noise.

There's a look of pure longing on her face as she looks straight at Mullet Man and asks- no, demands- “Where is he?”

Mullet Man just points to the door of the cafe, and the surprise of the evening soars to new heights as Allura vaults over over the counter and sprints out the door without another word. Neither Mullet Man nor Pidge seem fazed by Allura’s previous display, and when Pidge is back on the ground again, they're both staring at Mullet Man's phone and smirking ominously.

The swinging doors push open again (noticeably softer this time) and Hunk comes out, followed by Coran, who immediately makes his way over to where Allura is now being carried bridal-style into the cafe by a very muscular man whose face can't actually be seen because Allura is too busy kissing it and blocking the view. Lance turns to Hunk and gestures with both hands at… well, all of it.

Hunk nods and smiles. “The guy carrying Allura is her husband Shiro, if that's not obvious enough. And the guy Pidge is talking to,” Hunk pauses, and Lance has a feeling it's for effect. “...that's Keith. He's the Coffee Art Guy.”

Lance, having heard spectacular stories about the mysterious Coffee Art Guy who loved motorcycles and was a black belt in martial arts and worked out so much he had to be reminded to take care of himself, had not expected said Coffee Art Guy to look… well, like how Keith Kogane looked. If anything, he'd expected someone more like Keith's brother, Shiro. Not Keith himself.

Once Allura had returned to the world from her reunion with her husband, she'd hugged Keith and they'd spoken briefly in hushed voices, and then she'd gone about introducing her family to Lance, who had yet to meet them.

Introductions were an odd affair. Shiro was kind, polite, and seemed like a genuinely good guy- exactly the kind of guy he'd expect Allura to marry. Keith, however, was far more closed off and awkward, even bordering on hostile. He obviously disliked the fact that a new face had joined the cafe while he was gone, and Lance doesn't know if it was attributed to the long drive he'd just been on, or if Keith just really doesn’t like him.

The day after Shiro and Keith returned, Coran was taken off the cafe staff schedule and Keith had taken his place.

The first thing Lance notices about Keith as an employee is that all the stories he's been told about the guy are true. Keith is an amazing artist. Lance sees the ridiculously adorable cartoon mice drawn on the chalkboard menu outside, sees a similar mouse in the coffee cup of a guy he passes on his way in. It's good, and Lance wonders how Keith does it.

When a lull in afternoon business comes and neither of them have orders to fill, Lance goes up to Keith with a smile and asks to learn how to make coffee art.

“No.” Keith says immediately.

Lance blanks, a little from the speed of the response and a little from Keith's deadpan tone. “What.”

“No, I don't want to teach you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not a good teacher.” Keith grounds out, pulling a full cup off the rack of the cappuccino machine and walking past Lance to stand in the doorway to the back, calling for Hunk to come get his drink. Allura shuffles out past Keith and looks pointedly at the both of them, obviously having overheard their brief conversation.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to teach Lance coffee art, Keith.” She says as she sets about making her own usual drink.

Keith looks at her as if he's been betrayed, and Lance sinks into himself a little.

“Why?” Keith questions.

“Well, you are the only one who knows how to make coffee art. It will be good for someone else to learn so you do not have to do all of it on your own during rush hours.”

There's a long moment of silence where Allura and Keith are just looking at each other, both with a stubborn glint in their eyes. But then, Keith sighs, glancing at Lance with an unreadable expression, and nods.

“Fine.”

Allura beams and ruffles Keith's hair. “Wonderful! You have finished cleaning, so go ahead and start now. You can pause the lessons for a moment if you get a customer.” She says, winking at Lance before grabbing her cup of hot espresso and disappearing into the back.

Keith turns to Lance and frowns, but goes about grabbing new cups and cream and the little toothpicks Lance sees him use. Lance wordlessly offers his half-drank caffe mocha as their starting grounds.

“Alright.” Keith says, reluctance dripping from his tone. “Let me show you.”

Lance has decided that he definitely does not like Keith.

Another week and a half has passed since Allura convinced Keith to teach Lance how to make coffee art, and there are both very good and very bad things that have come from Keith teaching Lance how to make coffee art.

The very good thing is that Lance is a natural at it. He may not be able to make detailed cats like Keith can, but his flowers and hearts and geometric designs are pretty damn good. In his mind, at least. Which brings him to the very bad thing about having Keith Kogane as a teacher.

Keith refuses to praise. When Lance does something right, there's no “good job” or even a smile to say he's done something well. And that in itself wouldn't really be a big deal if it weren't for the completely dismissive way that Keith glances at his piece, nods vacantly, and goes back to whatever he was doing before without a hint of recognition.

Lance is pissed, to say the least.

He almost regrets ever having said Keith was attractive the first night he saw the guy, (almost, because as much as Keith is an asshole, he really isn't unattractive, and Lance isn't one to lie about that) and he can't help but think that Keith has always hated him, ever since that first night when he looked so absolutely offended that his sister-in-law would hire someone new in her cafe.

Today, they're in the middle of the evening rush, and Keith is hurrying to complete the tiny cat drawings that have been requested. Lance finishes ringing up the customers in line and goes about making their drinks.

There is exactly one customer who asked for a flower in their drink instead of the fourteen who asked for cats or dinosaurs (Lance hadn't even known Keith could draw dinosaurs until someone asked for one), and when Lance pauses to glance over at Keith, he finds the guy standing there, staring down at an absolutely horrendous cream flower.

Keith, Lance has learned, is a perfectionist. Much like Allura, he won't serve an order if it's even slightly off of what was requested, and Lance watches as Keith dumps out the coffee with a frustrated click of his tongue and starts again.

Lance is in the middle of making a complicated drink when someone new comes up in the line. He feels Keith's eyes on him, waiting to see if he'll go to help them. He feels Keith shove by to take their order, and when Lance finishes and serves the drink he'd been working on, he takes over remaking the drink Keith had dumped out and steals the opportunity to draw a perfect flower in the caramel on top.

After he's handed the drink over to its owner and gotten a happy smile in return, he turns to catch Keith staring - no, glaring, actually glaring - at him. Keith says nothing, just shoves past him again again takes his place at the end of the counter to work on the next order of art.

Lance is pissed.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks when the rush has subsided and most of the customers have left.

Keith looks at him with a confused scowl. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Oh, you know, just the fact that you hate me when I've done absolutely nothing to deserve it!”

“What are you talking about?! I don't hate you. Why would you even think that?”

“You looked offended that I was ever born when we first met! You had to be forced to teach me how to do coffee art, and then you don't even care when I do it right! You look at me as if I don't even exist, as if I'm just some customer you'll never have to see again, and you probably wish that were the truth!”

Lance pauses his ramble, fuming, face hot and probably red. Thankfully, he hadn't been speaking loud enough to attract any unwanted attention. Keith, however, is staring at him, and his expression is so full of emotions so close to guilt that Lance feels the anger flooding out of him even as he wills it to stay.

(He doesn't apologize for his outburst though. Keith has still been an asshole, and Lance still wants to know why.)

“I do my best with the coffee art. I try really hard, and you look at it as if you don't even care.” He continues. “Am I so terrible at it that you don't even want to acknowledge I'm doing it at all?”

Keith seems to snap to attention then, his eyes blowing wide as he turns to fully face Lance.

“You're not bad at it! You're actually really good at it! It's just…”

“It's just what?” Lance pushes.

“It's just… coffee art has always been my thing. I've never been good at talking to people like you and Allura or good at making coffee like Pidge or baking like Hunk or management like Coran. I'm good at art. That's it. It's the only thing I can do that no one else can, the only thing that's really my thing.”

Keith stops to breathe, and stares at the slate tiles of the floor. “I didn't want to teach you because then it wouldn't be my thing anymore. And you picked it up so quickly too. It took me ages to find the patience to draw so much as a circle. I was… jealous. And I felt bad about being jealous because you're a really nice and sweet person and you don't deserve it…”

Lance forces himself not to smile at the way the tips of Keith's ears turn red with the compliment, and he leans against the counter, unfurling a bit in the hopes of looking a little less like he's still angry.

“You don't have to feel bad for thinking that way. I just wish you could've told me before I assumed you hated me.” He says.

“Sorry about that.”

“This probably isn't what you want to hear, but you know, it really isn't the coffee art that makes you special. It's more the things like how you take your coffee, that Hunk lets you into the kitchen, the fact you drive a red Vespa to work. And how you manage to make a mullet of all things look halfway decent.”

Lance smiles when Keith meets his gaze. “Don't put so much emphasis on being the Coffee Art Guy. You being Keith is way more important.”

“...thank you, Lance.” Keith says, his smile small but real. “I think I get it.”

“Anytime.” Lance beams. “And besides, I still can't do cats or dinosaurs. And I know for a fact you can't do flowers for shit. So you can do the cats and dinosaurs, and I'll do the flowers. Deal?”

Keith chuckles (actually chuckles, and no, it does not make Lance's stomach do flips).

“Deal.”

Chapter Two ...And All That’s Ever Been

Over the last couple of weeks, Keith has started to notice Lance, and his noticing Lance has brought a lot of feelings Keith doesn't know how to understand.

In reality, he's always noticed Lance. You can't work alongside someone five days a week and not notice them. But now, Keith realizes that while he's always noticed Lance, he's never noticed Lance. As in, he's never paid enough attention to the guy to actually learn anything about him besides the fact that he's a genuinely nice person.

It's been almost a month since Lance confronted Keith and their awkward start became...less awkward. And over the course of that almost-month, Keith has noticed many things about Lance.

He notices the way Lance is is constantly shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as if he has to remind himself not to lean too much to one side. He notices how Lance always draws little flowers on the to-go cups of his customers, how he draws waves or swirls or smiley faces if the line is short and he has the time.

He notices how Lance is always smiling, and how his smiles are always genuine- never the Customer Service Smile bullshit he sees Allura pull when she's dead tired, sees Pidge pull whenever she works the register because she's always dead tired, knows he himself pulls whenever a customer talks to him because he's awkward and doesn't know how to smile genuinely at someone he doesn't know.

Lance smiles at everyone genuinely, and every smile is different, if only slightly.

The smile he gives their regulars is filled with recognition, a mirth you can only shown to someone you know and understand. The smile he gives new customers is full of inquiry, the slightest hint of excitement at whatever an unfamiliar face can bring. The smile he gives Hunk and Pidge and Coran is playful and wide, stretching from ear to ear, and almost always accompanied by laughter. The smile he gives Allura and Shiro is calm, gentle, showcasing the deep respect he has for both of them.

And the smile he gives Keith....well, Keith doesn't know how to describe that. It's too full of too many emotions that require too many words, and that smile always makes Keith's chest tighten, which confuses him more than anything else.

(It does not make his stomach do flips, and it does not make his chest swell. It's just confusing.)

The first time Keith feels the weird ache in his stomach that will quickly become familiar is on a relatively normal day at work. Relatively normal being that everything is the same as it always is, aside from the fact that Keith experiences the weird stomach ache that he knows has nothing to do with the slightly questionable leftover Chinese food he ate for lunch.

He’s in the middle of filling a cup full of whipped cream to satisfy one customer’s odd order, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches Lance at the register, smirking at a blonde girl with eyes just as bright violet as Keith’s own. Lance says something quietly to her as he writes her order on a cup, and Keith can hear the girl giggling even though he’s at the opposite end of the counter. Keith huffs, and suddenly the whipped cream is overflowing, and he has to scramble for a paper towel to clean the excess off the side of the cup before handing it off to its owner.

There’s an ache in Keith’s stomach, and he risks one more glance over at the register - one he immediately regrets when he catches Lance smirking down at the receipt he holds in his hands: a receipt with ten numbers scrawled across it.

Keith takes over the register at Lance’s request, and watches him go speed through the drink’s preparation, the ache in his stomach only growing more intense at the dopey smile on Lance’s face. The customer in line coughs to grab Keith’s attention and he apologizes politely, taking her order and placing it aside for Lance to handle once he’s finished, continuing on with the rest of the line and then helping to complete the rest of the orders when the line is gone.

The ache in Keith’s stomach doesn’t fully go away until the blonde girl has left, and even then it lingers in the back of his mind. What the fuck kind of ache comes from seeing your coworker flirt? Keith blames it on his own aversion to romance and goes about the rest of the day.

He gets that same ache in his stomach exactly three more times in the following two weeks - once when he arrives to find Lance standing outside twirling a girl in the rain (he later learns the girl is Lance’s sister, and he debates the accuracy of the weird stomach ache), once when he catches Lance giving out a complimentary pastry to a girl with dark curls (and again he debates the weird ache when he learns that girl is Shay, Hunk’s girlfriend), and once when Lance brags continuously during their shift about the date he has later that night with a girl named Nyma.

He’s robbed and abandoned during the date, and while Keith later laughs at the ridiculousness of it, there’s a different ache from how truly disappointed and betrayed Lance looks the next day.

In the week after the incident with Nyma, Keith notices that Lance no longer flirts with customers.

Time passes, and Keith doesn’t feel the ache again. Instead, his stomach does odd twists that always seem to coincide with a heating of his face and trembling of his hands, and Keith starts to realize that Lance really does do something strange to his insides whenever he does...well, anything.

When Lance smiles at something someone says; when Lance makes a terrible joke or pun that has Keith, Pidge, and Allura collectively rolling their eyes; when Lance does that low hum after taking a drink of his usual caffè mocha that signifies he’s proud of that particular drink. Keith doesn’t know why his insides churn, he just knows it happens because of Lance, and that most times it does happen, he ends up turning bright red and has to look away before Lance catches him watching.

It’s been exactly a month since the weird feelings began (not that Keith’s been keeping track, of course, it’s not like he thinks he might be slowly dying or anything) when he finally decides to ask someone if they know what the fuck is going on with his internal organs.

“Do you think I should go and see a doctor if my insides feel weird sometimes?” He asks Allura one night when they’re sitting on the couch together, waiting for Shiro to finish his shower so they can start their movie.

Allura tears her gaze from the magazine she’s reading and looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “What exactly do you mean by your insides feeling weird sometimes?”

“Well, sometimes when I’m at work my stomach will do this weird twist, and it doesn’t really hurt or anything, but it feels really strange and it makes my hands shake and my face get really hot and sometimes I feel kinda dizzy or just...out of it. But it doesn’t happen always. Just sometimes.” Keith explains, not quite knowing how else to describe it.

“When do you get this feeling? Do you think it happens because of anything in particular?”

“Uh,” Keith pauses. “Because of Lance.”

“Because of Lance?”

“Yeah. When he smiles, or laughs, or leans just right against the counter, or does that thing where he moves from foot to foot like he can’t decide how he wants to stand, or when he sticks his tongue out while he’s doing coffee art, or- why are you looking at me like that?”

Allura’s eyes are on him, and her entire face is turned up into a smirk Keith is immediately suspicious of. When he shoots her a look of confusion, she doubles over laughing, eyes pinched together and one hand covering her mouth as if she were trying - and obviously failing - to pretend she isn’t laughing at him. Keith frowns and twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Oh my goodness, Keith!” Allura says after about three minutes have passed. Her laughter slows to a few short chuckles, and she wipes a tear from her eyes. “You like Lance.”

“Well…yeah, I guess so. I don’t hate him. He’s a nice guy.”

“No, Keith. You like Lance. You have fallen in love with him, or have at least started to.”

Keith doesn’t say anything, simply letting his sister-in-law’s words sink in. He likes Lance. He’s in love with Lance. The feelings in his stomach are because everything Lance does makes him weak in the knees- suddenly, it all makes sense. He remembers when Shiro had first met Allura and would come home every day after class complaining about the same symptoms. Of course, back then they’d had their mother to explain it all. Keith regrets not having listened.

He feels his face heating up, and Allura is laughing again, this time not bothering to try and hide it. She pats Keith on the back and wipes a few more tears from her face, leaning over to hug Keith.

“Oh boy, I cannot believe you did not realize! I thought you would have known how one falls in love by now, being as much of an adult as you are!” She teases.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve just never fallen in love with anyone before, so how could I know?”

“How did you not remember any of this from when Shiro and I first met? He has told me of how awkward he was when we were still just classmates who never spoke, so surely you saw all of that from an insider’s perspective.”

“I kind of avoided Shiro when he first met you because he would just sit and ramble about you for hours. It got pretty boring after like, the first ten minutes.”

Allura giggles at that, and there’s the sound of a door opening from upstairs. Keith panics, turning to Allura with frantic eyes and tugging at her sleeve. “Don’t tell Shiro, please! He’ll just try to give me advice on dating and I really don’t want to get love advice from someone who had to be tricked into asking his first girlfriend out because he wouldn’t do it himself.”

“You are asking me to hide something so vitally important to your wellbeing from my husband, your brother? How on Earth could I betray him like that?” Allura says, leveling Keith with a serious expression.

Keith glares at her, and she simply smirks.

“I’ll work the night shift all week.”

“Deal.”

Shiro comes in only a moment later and movie night begins, but Keith finds himself unable to concentrate on the movie at all. He’s too preoccupied with the evening’s revelations.

Who would’ve thought that he’d fall for Lance McClain, of all the beautiful people in the world?

After that night, Keith only notices Lance even more. He’s constantly aware of Lance’s presence near him, constantly aware of exactly how much distance is in between them and exactly how far Keith would have to lean in order for them to be touching. It gets especially bad when the two of them are leaned in close to use the same machine and their sides are pressed together, their faces so close that Keith knows he’d only have to turn his head and lean a couple inches in order for their lips to meet.

The first time that happens, he ends up over filling his cup and burning a good piece of his arm, and he has to spend the next half hour manning the register with burn creamed smeared across his wrist and the back of his hand.

Nothing changes between him and Lance- not really. Of course, Keith finds himself a lot more awkward around the guy, not quite knowing what to say, but he’s never been super great at that, so he’s sure it’s not much of a noticeable change. If Lance notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Nothing changes, at least, until the night everything is revealed completely not-accidentally by his and Lance’s no-good friends after a particularly busy Halloween.

Keith has always loved Halloween. He grew up pleading for Shiro’s help making costumes of a different cryptid every year. And now, even as an adult, he still loves Halloween, though he’s grown up enough to make his own costumes. Allura, who decidedly does not celebrate Halloween but appreciates other people’s love for the holiday, lets Keith, Pidge, and Matt (all of them avid Halloween lovers) decorate the cafe in whatever way they see fit, which this year includes just a bit too much fake blood that they almost can’t get off the windows the next morning.

They all dress up in costumes Halloween day, even Allura and Shiro, who truly couldn’t care less about a holiday to do with dead things coming to life. Keith is Mothman, and he’s incredibly proud of his costume, made from black feathers from Party City superglued onto a pair of leggings and a turtleneck. Shiro wears nothing but a black lion onesie he bought years ago that really doesn’t even fit him anymore, and all Allura puts into her vampire costume is a pair of fake plastic fangs that have her talking in a lisp all day. Hunk is Cooking Mama. Pidge is Einstein. Coran is Sherlock Holmes (which everyone agrees is unsettling in how well he pulls it off).

Lance comes in late as fucking Wonder Woman - and no, Keith does not spit out his morning ristretto at the sight of Lance in an almost-speedo - and Matt (Pidge’s older brother and self-declared “Senior Coffee Genius) shows up as Winry Rockbell in what Keith declares is the shittiest anime cosplay he’s ever seen in his entire life.

They spend the day handing out candy to kids who come in with their parents, complimenting the kids’ costumes as much as the kids compliment theirs. A couple of toddlers end up crying when Keith comes out of the back after refilling the candy bowl, but he can’t bring himself to resent it when he gets to see Lance make them smile with his Wonder Woman getup, complete with a shield and sword that look just like the real thing, despite being plastic.

The mother shoots Lance a weird look at first, but Keith can tell that the relief of her kids being satiated is greater than whatever prejudice she might have against men wearing skirts.

Keith spends the rest of the day as far from small children as he can (so as to avoid making any more of them piss themselves out of fear) and trying his very best not to let his gaze linger on Lance’s lower half for more than the “appropriate” microsecond he deems is good enough to not be noticed. Of course, Allura notices anyways, and then Keith has to put effort into ignoring the  look she sends him from across the cafe every time Lance is within a foot’s distance.

By the time evening comes and the cafe closes for the night, Keith is ready to go home and gorge on the leftover candy he knows Shiro and Allura won’t end up eating. But, of course, he isn’t going to get to do that. Instead, Lance suggests they all hang out and eat the remaining candy as a group, because it’s Halloween, and what else are you supposed to do on Halloween except eat candy with the people you love?

(Keith pointedly doesn’t think too hard about the fact he was included in the list of people Lance apparently loves.)

Allura offers the cafe as their venue for the evening, and everyone settles down in the sitting area, some on the couches and armchairs and others curled up on the plush pink carpet, the still half-full candy bowl placed on the coffee table in the middle, though everyone has handfuls of candy in their laps anyway.

“So, how about we play a game of sorts? Anyone have a suggestion?” Allura proposes once everyone has made themselves comfortable.

Matt’s hand shoots into the air. “I’ve got one! I made it up in college when Shiro and I wanted to embarrass our dormmates by spilling all their dirty frat boy secrets.”

“Oh God,” Shiro says, dragging a hand over his face and sighing. “I remember that.”

“This sounds wonderful, do explain!” Allura claps her hands excitedly.

“Okay, so the game’s basically this: we go in a circle, counter-clockwise because that seems like it’d be the funniest with the group we have, and everyone has to pick an embarrassing secret they know about someone else in the group and share it out loud. Whoever makes their target react the most intensely, wins.”

“I have a feeling Pidge is going to win this.” Keith says from where he’s leaned against the table, Pidge next to him. “She’s like...the Queen of Blackmail.”

“True, true.” Pidge nods in agreement.

The game begins, and they start with Matt so he can show everyone an example of the game’s mechanics - not that the game’s all that hard to understand. Matt shares a short story about one time in their college years when Shiro came back from a class with Allura and sat in their shared bathroom for at least an hour talking to himself in a high-pitched, shitty British accent pretending to be Allura so he could roleplay her response if he asked her out. Keith makes sure to record the entire thing for blackmail purposes, including Allura’s hysterical laughing fit.

Shiro goes next, and of course, his is also a short story. This one is about the time their college dorm stole a telescope from the lab and snuck out onto the roof to stargaze, and Matt got so drunk that he nearly knocked himself and the stolen telescope off said roof.

Allura shares a story about her first ever Halloween party, in which Coran showed up an entire family of Irish dancers with a near perfect rendition of a traditional Irish Ceili dance. It’s less of an embarrassing story than one that makes everyone confused, but that’s always the case when Coran is involved.

Coran’s story includes a picture of a plump baby Allura covered head to toe in peanut butter that he conveniently “happens” to have on his person, and Allura spends the next two turns with her head in her hands.

Pidge’s story is about the origin of the Winry cosplay Matt’s wearing - a story Keith really wishes he hadn’t heard, and judging by how red everyone else’s faces are by the time Pidge is done, Keith figures they’d all agree.

Keith’s is of one time when Shiro was attempting to flirt with Allura behind the counter of the cafe and slipped on some water, faceplanting onto the floor. It must create a vivid mental image because that particular story throws everyone into a fit of giggles at Shiro’s expense, and Keith can’t bring himself to be intimidated by the angry look his brother sends him when the man’s face is pink with embarrassment. He only blushes darker when Allura kisses him on the cheek.

When it’s Hunk’s turn, the apron-wearing man turns to Lance with a gleam in his eye. Lance just smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh c’mon Hunk, you know that every story you’ve got to tell about me is something I’ve already come to terms with. I’m not ashamed of anything!”

“Lance has a crush on Keith and won’t admit it because he still thinks Keith doesn’t like him.”

Lance gapes at that, and Keith can see his face turning beet red as Hunk leans back in his chair, looking somehow both triumphant and slightly guilty. Everyone else is silent. Keith can’t tear his gaze from Lance, and their eyes lock, both mutually frozen. Lance’s eyes are so blue, his cheeks so red, and Hunk’s words slowly start to sink in all the way, and Keith feels like he’s holding his breath.

“Keith likes Lance too and had to have me tell him that because he did not realize what falling in love was like!”

Keith was holding his breath, and he lets it all out in a shaky cough as he whirls on Allura.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“No, I promised I would not tell Shiro.”

“Shiro’s right there!”

“Oh, well, sorry?” She says in the most unapologetic way possible.

Keith frowns at her, and when he turns back to Lance, blue eyes meet violet once again, and Keith feels his own face turning just as beet red as Lance’s. They sit there, saying nothing, doing nothing, until Shiro cuts through the awkward silence and suggests they continue the game. It pulls Keith and Lance’s attention away from each other, and they don’t meet eyes again for the rest of the night.

Lance offers up a weak story about how Hunk didn’t learn how to ride a bike until his first year of college (weak in that everyone else already knew the fact, having been friends with Hunk many years longer than Lance has). The game continues, and after another few rounds, Keith and Lance end up dropping from the game without any real notice, the group not mentioning their continued silence and simply passing over them both.

Coran heads home only a half hour or so after closing time at midnight, though everyone else stays behind until the wee hours of the morning. They continue the game until about 2am and then move on to other cliche party games that Keith honestly doesn’t pay any attention to. The sun is rising by the time Allura says they should stop their games, and at that point, only Hunk actually decides to go home and sleep the remaining three hours before the cafe opens again.

Allura and Shiro disappear into Allura’s back office, presumably to sleep, and Matt and Pidge head out, stating they’re only going home to change and that they’ll be back in twenty minutes. Keith walks them out and waves as they drive away. When he steps out of the front doorway, he catches sight of Lance behind the counter, the sounds of the machines and the smell of coffee making the whole room seem warmer.

Keith steps over to the end of the counter, rubbing at his eyes, and pauses when Lance calls his name. Turning to face Lance, Keith watches him slide a cup of coffee down the polished counter and into his hands. It smells like ristretto, and when Keith sips it, it tastes perfect.

“Thanks.” He says, still avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, no problem.” Lance says, doing the same. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna go home and change too. But I’ll be back soon.”

Keith nods in acknowledgement and takes another long sip of his coffee, burning his tongue and using the ache as a distraction from Lance brushing past him and out the door. He doesn’t look up to watch Lance go. But when he finally sighs and sets his cup down on the counter, he finds that there’s a message scrawled on it in Lance’s favorite blue ink.

‘Meet me at this address tomorrow night, at 7pm. We both have the night off. With love, Lance’

The address leads to the an aquarium, according to Keith’s GPS. He holds his phone tightly in his hand and sets out, following the blue line on his screen until he finds himself standing in front of a beautifully architectured building with ‘The Depths’ posted in glowing blue and white letters above the entrance. Keith can tell the ceiling is glass from the way it shines in the light of the setting sun, and it looks like the entire entrance is glass too.

He’s so busy admiring the venue that he almost doesn’t see Lance, but when he does, oh God, Keith’s fucking gone.

Lance is standing casually off to the side of the entrance, out of the way of anyone else wanting to go inside but not so far out of sight as for Keith to not notice him there. He’s leaning on one leg the way he always does, and Keith catches him switch to the other leg, the way he always does. He’s wearing very tight blue jeans that are folded up to just below his knee, a white shirt with thin grey stripes, and bright blue Converse that oppose Keith’s own red Converse so strikingly it’s almost as if they planned it.

Keith looks down at his baggy black jeans and red hoodie and allows himself a moment to feel self-conscious. Maybe he should’ve put more effort into deciding what to wear. Not that he hadn’t put any effort into it - in fact, Shiro and Allura had been forced to all but throw him from the house so he wouldn’t be late, he’d spent so much time worrying; and not just about his wardrobe either. He’d never been on a date. How the fuck was he supposed to act on a date?

Wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his jeans, Keith slowly starts toward Lance, who smiles as he approaches. Keith smiles back, already feeling the heat in his face.

“Hey.” Lance says, his voice sounding almost shaky.

“Hey.” Keith parrots, not really knowing what else to say.

“Wanna head inside?” Lance nods toward the aquarium’s entrance. “We only have until nine to see everything, that’s when they close.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They head into the building together. Lance holds the door open with one hand and bows with an unnecessary dramatic flourish that makes Keith laugh, and as soon as they’ve paid for their entry (well, Lance pays, even though Keith protests) Keith feels a hand slip into his own, fingers squeezing his and causing his body temperature to rise slightly. He doesn’t acknowledge it aside from a not-so-subtle glance upward, and Lance meets his gaze with a smirk. Keith chuckles.

“So,” Lance starts as they make their way toward the first exhibit. “You look amazing.”

Keith tries not to look disbelieving. “You look better.”

“Impossible!” Lance states, swinging their hands between them with that cheesy smirk on his face. “You look handsome without trying. Me?” He gestures dramatically to himself. “I have a morning ritual wherein I sell part of my soul every day so I can look halfway decent. Not what I would call ‘natural beauty’, which you definitely have.”

Keith can feel his ears turning red, but he refuses to back down. “Sure, but who’s to say this is purely natural? You’ve only sold pieces of your soul, whereas I sold all of mine ages ago.” He says, nodding sagely as Lance gives him an inquisitive look, lips pursed. “It’s a simple ritual, Shiro taught me. Want to know the secret?”

“Teach me, oh beautiful, soulless angel!”

Lance throws his arms out to the side and enunciates his words in a deeper tone than usual, and Keith snorts a laugh. They have to take a minute to calm down before Keith can continue.

“Cold water and combs.”

Then Lance is the one snorting a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh boy, that’s one powerful demon.”

“Maybe. Not as generous as yours though. You only sold pieces of your soul and you look like you should be a model for underwear or something. I sold my entire soul and I have to deal with this.” Keith says, gesturing to his hair, as big and poofy as ever.

“Hey, I love your mullet!”

“You used to insult it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a changed man.”

Keith turns his gaze to the ground at that. “Me too.” When he looks back up at Lance, he can tell the man caught onto the subliminal message of those two words. After all, Keith treated Lance like shit when they first met - which was only a couple of months ago. Yet, here they are now, on a date at an aquarium, holding hands and close enough to kiss-

They both seem to realize it at the same time, and jerk back so there’s a good twelve inches in between their faces, cheeks red and eyes averted. They don't let go of each others hand though, staying linked as Lance leads Keith farther into the aquarium.

The date is incredibly peaceful from then on. They don't make as much small talk as Keith had expected, and he prefers it. They go through all the exhibits - colorful tropical fish, streamlined sharks, giant sea bass and bottom dwellers and lion fish and seahorses and an octopus that does tricks for shellfish - and all the while, Lance is commenting on the kinds of life each creature lives: where it lives, what it eats, what eats it.

Keith doesn't say much, just listens to Lance gush about how beautiful each creature is. He can only imagine that coming to an aquarium like this alone would be boring and bland.

They take a break to get frozen yogurt (which surprises Keith, because what aquarium has a frozen yogurt kiosk?!) and just when Keith thinks they've seen everything, Lance leads him to a doorway blocked by a heavy black curtain that reads “Jellyfish Aquarium”. They step inside, and it's like stepping into a world from a fairytale story.

The entire room is illuminated by blue and pink bioluminescent jellyfish, all floating slowly in a tank that must be ten feet tall and at least twenty feet wide. There are no lights in the ceiling or the tank, just the soft glow of the jellyfish as they drift silently around each other, looking like the calmest creatures in the world.

“My papa brought me to this room when I was little, as a birthday gift. He told me the perfect man is like a jellyfish. He's calm and peaceful, radiating with life and light. But he also stands up for himself and what he loves. If someone comes at him, he fights back.” Lance says, pressing one hand against the glass tank. He's quiet for a long moment, and then he looks back at Keith, a fond look in his eye. “You're the first person I've ever brought here, aside from him.”

Keith takes in the expression on Lance's face, then turns toward a pastel pink jellyfish floating past Lance's hand. “Is that a good thing?” He asks.

“It means you're special to me.”

Keith feels his fingers being squeezed gently, and when he turns to his date once again, he finds Lance about six inches from his face. Keith does nothing, says nothing as Lance inches closer, until he can feel warm breath on his chin.

When Lance speaks, it's barely louder than a whisper. “May I kiss you?”

Keith nods, and then there are soft lips pressed against his own, fingers holding his like a lifeline, a hand ghosting over his cheek and stroking his hair. The room was already quiet, but it's as if the whole world simply fades out, and there's only Lance, with pale shadows playing across his closed eyelids and the baby-smooth skin of his nose sliding against Keith's own.

They pull apart, exhaling together, and Keith let's himself stare back into Lance's eyes, blue as the ocean whose creatures he loves so dearly. A thumb strokes the back of Keith's hand, another strokes his burning cheek.

He has nothing more to say, so he says nothing, just smiles and leans into Lance's side to watch the jellyfish a while longer, an arm wrapped around his waist and a cheek nestled in his hair.

They stay there in the jellyfish room, close as they can be to each other without infringing on any PDA rules the humble aquarium might have, until the woman from the front desk comes in to inform them the aquarium needs to close. They leave hand in hand, sides pressed together, Keith's head leaning on Lance's shoulder whenever it won't hinder their ability to walk without stepping on each other's feet.

Lance walks Keith home, kisses him again on the stoop of his house, runs a hand through his hair and whispers “good night” into his ear as if a farewell were the most important thing he could ever say.

(Keith hopes farewell isn't the most important thing Lance has to say.)

“We should do this again.”

Lance says it so firmly, so casually; Keith wonders how a simple sentence said in such a way can make his chest tighten, his hands tremble..

Lance is looking at him, waiting for him, yet something in his lopsided smile and the way the light of the streetlamp casts shadows across his face makes Keith feel like he could take a hundred years to respond and Lance would still be there, with all the patience in the world.

He decides not to take a hundred years, because a.) it would be rude to make Lance wait that long, regardless of whether he's willing to or not, and b.) he doesn't think he could go another second denying himself to pleasure of Lance’s promised company.

“Definitely.”

[redrackham87]

soooo university is absolutely kicking my butt around the block and back again. 

i just needed to pop in super quick and put out a psa: 

because of this, i will not be doing the annual christmas graphics to my followers. i’m so sorry, guys - i love doing that so much, and i literally look forward to it every year - you guys put in such a fabulous variety of requests and i get to play in photoshop and go nuts and i love it. 

but considering i currently have had to pretty much cut off my entire social life, spend 6-7 days at school working (tho i only have classes on 3 days), and have three times now forgotten to eat and shower on certain days because of project overload, i cannot fit a single other thing in. :(

and if my queue runs out - which it probably definitely will because i have no time to fill it back up - just know that i’m not dead, i’m just studenting as hard as i can, and i’ll see y’all in december when the semester is over. XD

(for more specifics/me taking a moment to vent, continue below the cut)

the workload is psychotically insane. i am legit doing homework and projects every day, all day. the school preaches about self care and good sleep habits and taking time for yourself, but they’ve literally made it physically impossible to do all of those things. it’s a joke, honestly. i know these things are important and i just am doing what i can, when i can, how i can. which is largely not enough but i’m managing.

i’ve pulled more than a few all nighters (two by the SECOND WEEK), i’ve cried a dozen times at least, i’m living on caffiene and sandwiches. my fellow students have cried when we were given a two day extension on one project, are choosing which projects to or classes to fail in order to do better or finish “more important” projects. this should not be a thing.

i met some people at a wedding in the summer who told me that first year is a total miserable nightmare you have to just somehow survive, and i honestly think they were vastly under-selling it. since the first week of september, i have been so exhausted, daily, that i am physically aching. every day.

i overheard the librarians at the school having a vent session of their own, about how extreme and unfair the school was to first years - one lady actually yelled, “IT’S SATURDAY! LOOK HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE HERE ON A SATURDAY! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” and the other guy went on a long rant about how the school is doing something “fundamentally wrong” because so many people drop out during and after first year. (i wanted to go into their office and give them a hug for understanding how insane this all is. XD) the free therapists offered by the school are booking more than two weeks out after one month of classes. 

the teachers seem to largely act like they are the only ones giving you work, while also off-handledly saying “i know you’re busy”, but then acting shocked when half the class doesn’t finish a project on time, or that the ones handed in are largely subpar. one class i am super struggling with (and hate): i’m doing hours upon hours of extra work (tutorials, exercises, seeking help from the teacher, other teachers, other students, books, etc), and barely scraping by marks-wise, and the teacher still is all visibly disappointed in my work (note: so far, i’m doing well enough in the other courses, it’s just this one technical/perspective drawing class and i suck and i don’t get it and i hate it and i’m trying so. effing. hard. and i’m just a link park song - “i tried so hard and got so far and in the end it doesn’t even matter”. -_- ) 

if i hear one more person say “time management”, i will explode. i’m not sure how it’s a time management issue when they want you to make something good enough for your portfolio, yet give you a very limited time to do it, while you have 8 other hugely time-consuming things going at the same time. like, guys, i literally have classes on just 3 days a week which is not much. i have 5 courses total. i am spending 6-7 days a week at school doing projects, from like 7 or 8 am to 9 or 10 pm at night. if i’m not at school, i’m at home working on things from 7 or 8 am to 1 or 3 or 4 am. it’s not like i’m procrastinating or taking huge extended breaks or being flippant about time - i’m working as hard as i physically can and then some. it’s not time management. 

and the projects are relentless - we have so many due per week, and literally as soon as one is done, it’s immediately replaced by another, in every class. so there’s no relief, no stopping for a second because you don’t have anything due. there’s always something due, and it’s always large and time consuming as heck.

i literally cried about “having” to take 4 hours out of my day for thanksgiving dinner with my family, because that was 4 hours of lost work time. i only made it to bible study last week because i had portable homework that i could do at my friend’s table while we did it. THIS SHOULDN’T BE A THING.

my writing has come to a grinding halt - i haven’t OPENED a doc since august. i did not sign up for yuletide (I AM SAD), and i have no signed up for any new bangs - there’s a couple i had done/signed up to do art for in the summer, and i will be throwing those up on my ao3 on posting day, but they won’t come to any of my sites until sometime in december. i have no time to edit or think or literally do anything but school. 

anyways - i’m okay, i’m surviving. (i know this all sounds really bad and it is but i’m surviving.) lots of tears and stress and super long days and way too short nights and i am literally living project to project, but i’m doing it. mostly. there’s no chance i’m dropping out, and no chance i’m giving up. i have no clue how to make it december but i’m going to. i basically just need someone to periodically bring me starbucks and give me a massage and bring me food and water and also make my teachers stop. XD

SO ANYWAYS if you basically don’t hear from me at all for a few months, this is why. XD 

i’ve used up too much time - GOTTA GET BACK TO IT. BYE LADS. SEE YOU IN A FEW MONTHS WHEN I AM AN EMPTY SHELL AND BITTER, SCARRED WAR-HARDENED VETERAN OF SEMESTER 1. XD

[ibelily]

The Horsemen

I don’t even know what this is, but it’s been in my head so it needs to get out ! I might make it a multi-chaptered thing, with a chapter for each side if y’all like that idea. Also I’m tagging @demerite​, @lana--22​ and @taki-random​ because you all sencouraged me to write this so it’s really all your fault ... <3

Highschool AU, OC’s Point Of View 

Pairing: none

TW: mentions of suicide, of death, of physical fights (i think that’s it, pls tell me if i missed something)

Length: 2.1k yeaaaah buddy

Also, i apologise if I got any of the biblical references wrong, Wiki was my main ressource

Urgh, I hate firsts. Firsts are always awkward, and ultimately disappointing. At top of the list is definitely the first day of school, especially when your first day happens to be in the middle of the school year. I had just managed to figure out how my locker worked and had turned to walk to my class when I was pulled out of the way just before being bulldozed by a mammoth of a teenager, who walked past as if nothing had even happened. 

I turned to my savior to see someone even shorter than myself, wearing a baggy yellow hoodie and black skinny jeans, with white Converse. They had short, bright red hair that clashed beautifully with their hoodie, and a simple grey backpack was slung casually over one shoulder.

“Sorry about that” they said, letting go of my sleeve. “You were about to get trampled”

“Yeah I noticed” I said as I dusted myself off.

“Haven’t seen you around. You new?” They asked.

“Yeah, first day.”

”That’ll explain it. You’re lucky Famine didn’t flatten you. Usually everyone gets out of his way quickly so he wouldn’t have stopped.”

“Yeah I was worried there for a sec- Hang on did you just say Famine?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story. Tell you what, I’ll tell you at lunch, every newbie deserves to know the story.” They stuck out a hand for me to shake, smiling widely. I took it in mine and gave my best firm handshake, surprised at the upfront friendliness.

“I’m Chris, by the way” they said just as the bell rang “... and I’m late for AP History. Meet you here at noon? We’ll go get lunch” I nodded dumbly as they took off in the direction of their classroom. Not bad I thought, I’ve already made a friend. I shrugged my backpack further up onto my shoulder and went to find my own class.

*****

Midday soon came around, and I found myself in the cafeteria with Chris, looking at a surprisingly good school lunch.

“They’re called the Horsemen” Chris started without preamble as we put down our trays and sat in the hard plastic seats.

“The horsemen?” I repeated.

“Named after the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Oh. I’m not a christian, I’ve never heard that story before” I explained.

“Well in the New Testament, in the Book of Revelation, there’s a chapter that talks about a scroll that is sealed with seven seals. The Lamb of God -which is just another name for Jesus- opens four of the seals which brings down the Horsemen, the harbingers of the Apocalypse and of the Judgement Day.”

“Sounds morbid” I joke.

“Well, that’s the Bible for you” They chuckled. We chatted for a while about other things: where I was before, how I was liking the town so far, the usual mundane things. I found I really liked Chris, they had an uplifting personality and I quickly felt relaxed around them, something that didn’t happen often for me.

“Here they come” Chris announced, and I felt the room grow quieter as the door swung open. In walked a gang of five men -they definitely weren’t boys- who ambled their way over to the line to get some food, talking quietly amongst themselves. The other people in the queue tensed at the new additions, but carried on with whatever they were doing. The men didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t seem to care of their intimidating presence.

“That first one is Conquest.” Chris pointed at the first man, beginning their explanation “His real name is Roman, but no one calls him that anymore. He is what is commonly referred to as a man-whore. He’ll have sex with anything with a heartbeat. No ties, obviously. It’s just ‘Wham, Bam, thank you whoever’.”

I watched as Roman collected his food. He wore a white and red t-shirt, very form-fitting jeans and stylish sneakers. His hair was impeccably quiffed, and there was no denying his good looks. He shot a charming smirk at the lady serving him, and she turned bright red and giggled.

“He looks good, but I don't see how he’s so terrible” I defended.

“There's just something about him. Everyone knows how he operates and yet people fall under his charm and they're goners. They fall in love with him, and he knows it. He uses them for whatever he wants: information, tasks he doesn’t want to do, you name it. Once he's slept with someone, they become one of The Conquered. Half the school has been conquered by him so far, students and teachers alike.”

“Have you been... Conquered?” I asked tentatively. They chuckled in response.

“No, we asexuals are immune to his powers, a fact that annoys him greatly”

Conquest sat down at an empty table, casually ignoring all the loving eyes that followed him across the room. I turned back to the line as Chris continued.

“The next one is War. Real name: Logan. Don’t be fooled by the shirt and tie, he’s definitely the scariest of the four.”

Looking at Logan, I found that hard to believe. He was the very definition of ‘White & Nerdy’. He wore thick rimmed glasses, a crisp black shirt with every button done up, a bright blue tie fastened securely around his neck, and pressed trousers with smart black lace-ups. He had a neutral expression on his face, almost like a robot.

“How could he possibly be scary?” I asked incredulously. As I spoke, a freshman who wasn’t looking ahead of him walked straight into the man they called War. War turned his head rigidly to stare at the younger boy, who stuttered out a faint apology before running away, tripping over his own feet. War stared at the retreating figure, then returned to what he was previously doing, choosing his dessert.

“War has anger issues. He seems all monotonous, but don’t cross him, whatever you do. He will destroy you, quite literally. The last guy who pissed him off ended up in hospital for 2 months.” 

“What did he do to anger him?” I gawked.

“No one knows. The stories go from having sex with his sister to tripping him up accidentally in the hallway. He’s also very protective of the others, so crossing them is crossing him.” Chris shuddered slightly and I found myself doing the same. The more I looked at War, the more he creeped me out; He was so robotic in his actions, his face devoid of all emotion. He joined Conquest at the table, sitting down mechanically opposite him.

“I suppose you’re already acquainted with Famine.” Chris joked, and I turned my head back to where Famine was filling his plate with everything in front of him.

“The name’s kind of ironic; He’s on the wrestling team so he eats a lot.” In contrast with the others, Famine seemed massive. Although he was of similar height, he was at least twice as wide. His blue shirt strained against his biceps and upper back as he leaned forward to grab even more food for his piled up plate. Everything about him was big.

“He doesn’t say much, but when he does speak you listen. If he tells you to do something, you do it. He’s got this authoritative tone in his voice that makes you feel like you have to obey. I reckon it’s the whole being a father thing” Chris shrugged.

“He’s a father?! He’s still in highschool!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, he’s got two kids. Twins. Not many people know about them though. I only found out because I overheard a conversation between the four of them a while back. They’ve taken to calling him ‘Dad’ as a joke. His real name is Patton I think, but like all the others his name isn’t really used anymore”

As Famine sat down with the others, his plastic seat squeaked as he put all his weight on it. Without saying a word the other two gave him things off their plates to add to his mountain of food, Conquest holding out the kiwi in his hand with a disgusted look on his face.

Then the man that I assumed was the fourth Horseman stepped up to pay. He was slightly shorter and skinnier than the others, wearing a large black hoodie with black jeans and black sneakers. As he turned his head I noticed large purple bags underneath his eyes; It looked like he never slept.

“Who is he then?” I asked curiously.

“That’s Death.”

“Death?”

“Yup. I don’t know his real name, in fact I don’t think anyone does. He doesn’t like it so he makes the teachers and everyone call him either Death, and sometimes Anxiety.”

“That’s…weird”

“He gets called Anx most of the time anyway. He’s probably the least intimidating of the four, he’s actually quite nice, if a bit quiet. I had Art class with him last semester and we actually got on pretty well.” They explained. I watched as he took a seat with the others, jumping in and joining in on the conversation already taking place between them. He made a quick remark at Conquest, making Famine guffaw loudly and put his arm around his shoulders, ruffling his hair. Looking at them interact, it was hard to imagine that any of them could be as horrid as Chris made them out to be.

“So why is he a Horseman?”

“Because of his reputation. There’s apparently a curse on him that means that anyone who gets close to him dies”

My eyes widened and I whipped my head around to stare at Chris.

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately. His parents died in a car accident when he was young, and he didn’t have any living relatives so he got shuffled around the care system for years. Apparently most of his foster parents died not long after taking him in, and others just dumped him back in the system. When he first came here he made friends with a girl. Her name was Emmy. She committed suicide three months later.”

“Oh my God, that’s heartbreaking.” I took another glance at him, and he had retreated slightly from the group, eating his lunch in silence.

“Anx sort of shut himself away after that, refusing to talk to anyone, not that he did much talking to begin with. It wasn’t until the gang decided to take him under their collective wings that he started to talk again. Now he’s the one that calms them down when they go a bit too overboard.”

I got a perfect example of that as a small commotion erupted from their table, making everyone’s heads turn to watch. War was standing up and leaning over the table, staring down angrily at Famine, who was staring back just as menacingly. I don’t know what had happened, but War’s face was getting increasingly red, and a vein had popped up on his forehead. Calmly, Anxiety got up and placed a gentle hand on Logan’s shoulder. The other snapped out of his staring contest to look at Anxiety. No words were exchanged, but Logan nodded at Anxiety and the pair sat back down. War extended a hand out to Famine who slapped his own against it, then they bumped fits and carried on the conversation they’d previously been having. For his part, Conquest hadn’t flinched at the interaction, he’d carried on eating his burrito as if it were a common occurrence. The whole scenario was bizarre, to say the least.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I turned back to the food line and remembered the fifth member of the group. He’d also paused at the interaction, but he’d quickly turned back to pick out his food.

“So who’s the fifth one? I thought there were only four horsemen” I asked.

“There are. That’s Thomas. He’s sort of like their ringleader. He’s the worst one of all”

I took a moment to watch him, and was surprised when he smiled and thanked the server for his food before picking up his tray and making his way to the table.

“He looks nice enough to me”

“Everyone thinks that at first. But you’ll learn, eventually. He’s like all four of the other rolled into one deceivingly sweet package.”

“So what do you call him then, if he’s not a Horseman?”

“What do you think? Who sent the Horsemen in the first place?”

I look at Chris blankly, confused. They lean in towards me, lowering their voice to a whisper. I leant in also, feeling the tension build in the air.

“He’s God, who else?”