“beauty and the beast” where beauty’s dad comes home with the rose and is like oh shit oh shit this terrible monster says i have to come live with him forever because i picked his favorite flower and beauty just goes fuck that and puts on her pants and marches down to the beast’s castle herself
and she’s expecting this horrifying dark fortress but it’s actually sort of just a normal castle with big rose bushes and furniture that’s sometimes alive
and she thinks, i can work with this
and the beast comes out and he’s like don’t look at me i am a hideous monster and beauty’s like dude you’re like a talking tiger in a cape are you kidding you’re AWESOME can i pet you can i stroke your paws can you give me a ride
and he’s like what and she goes around the castle like okay we’ll put curtains here and expand the kitchen and this could be a really cute breakfast nook
and the beast is confused because isn’t she supposed to be terrified and hate him and he had all these intimidating speeches planned and he’s like uh aren’t you going to try to run away
and beauty’s all are you kidding this is a magic castle i’m going to live here forever
so they just sort of settle in together and one day beauty goes home for the weekend to visit her family and they’re all amazed that she’s alive and her sisters go WHY DIDN’T THE HUGE MONSTER EAT YOU TO DEATH and she’s like nahhh he’s basically just a big cat he’s kind of cute actually sometimes he plays with yarn when he thinks i’m not looking
and she explains how it’s really not that bad, all the dishes wash themselves and i get all these gorgeous dresses for free because the castle doesn’t know what else to do with them and yeah there are flowers everywhere but hey that’s his hobby y'know i’m not gonna discourage that man
and then one day while beauty’s re-alphabetizing her magic library and trying to decide where to put that enchanted mirror the beast comes up and he’s like hey so this is awkward but are you like………………………………..in love with me……?????????
and beauty’s like oh uh wow haha um sorry no you’re…sort of a tiger
and the beast is like thank goodness because if you were i’d have to turn back into a human and i've kind of gotten used to being a big lion thing with horns and the ability to speak english for some reason like why would i want to go back to being a spindly little man and then beauty laughs and she’s like okay well can you go catch us a wild boar for dinner, dear
and they end up getting married in the end just because it’s easier to explain that way, you know, a single lady ~~living alone with a man~~ even if he’s not actually a man, and that’s fine with them because beauty was never really into the whole boys and sex thing and the beast (whose name is jeff) is honestly more interested in his flowers
and whenever any of the other ladies in the village give her any shit beauty is just like, oh, you don’t like my crepes? well you know my husband, who is literally a tiger, loves them and then everyone leaves her alone, which is really all she ever wanted
and she goes back to her magic castle and sits down with a book in front of the fire and rests her feet on her cat husband and nobody bothers her ever again
“It was a movie where the main character, the guy in the mask, really isn’t altogether human. He has no characteristics. He’s, uh, almost like a machine. He was just pure evil. That was what I intended to do. It’s evil out of nothing, evil from no background, which completely creeps me out as a human being, that evil could arrive at my doorstep without a purpose, without a past, without an origin. So that’s the idea behind it. It was put together to scare you. That’s all.” - John Carpenter
hi hello, I have a sinus infection and am suffering, so I tortured Keith and
wrote some college au pre-Klance stuff. Here they are, having a bonding moment.
(sorry I can’t help myself) (also sorry, I posted this earlier and then deleted
it and now I’m posting it again, anyway…)
“Have a good night,” Keith calls after a customer,
wincing at how his voice sputters away at the end of the sentence. With a
wobbly breath, he leans his hip against the counter and lets his throbbing head
droop. Everything hurts, and he just wants to go home, but he’s got three more
hours left in his shift. Not to mention the chemistry homework to do when he
gets back to his dorm.
He inhales stuffily and rubs his irritated nose. He’s
been fighting a nasty cold for a good two weeks now, and based on the pulsing
pressure in his face and the fact that his nose has been bothering him
incessantly all day, he’s guessing it’s in the process of turning into a sinus
Thankfully the number of customers in the store is
dwindling. Not only is it getting late, but the cold autumn wind combined with
the rain that’s been coming down since this morning is keeping most people
away. Still, Keith’s throat feels raw every time he swallows, and even though
he’s been trying to drink as much water as possible, he’s expecting it to be
gone by the end of his shift.
Footsteps draw Keith’s attention toward the nearby
dollar section. Coran, his supervisor, ambles down the aisle, his gaze darting
back and forth to the shelves of cheap earbuds and almost expired candy.
Keith gives a hoarse, nearly inaudible groan as the
older man heads toward him; Coran is a good boss, he guesses, but he’s very …
chatty. Not really what Keith wants to deal with right now.
“Keith, my good fellow,” Coran says, his chipper voice
grating against Keith’s ears. “How are things going up here?”
“Fine,” Keith says.
“It’s a very slow night, wouldn’t you say?”
A sharp prickle in Keith’s nose sends dread bubbling
up in his stomach. He’s been biting back sneezes all night while dealing with
customers and really doesn’t want to let one out now; he already feels like
shit and doesn’t exactly want the rest of the world to know. “I guess,” he
mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a fingertip.
“Well, since you’re not too busy, try to straighten up
the dollar section a bit between customers? Some unruly children appear to have
been left … unsupervised in there.”
His breath stammers a little, but he manages to
sniffle back the itch enough that it’s no longer too much of a concern. “I
will,” he says quietly.
“Wonderful!” Coran exclaims, clasping his hands
together and aiming a bright smile at Keith. “I must check something in
Electronics, but I’ll be back up in a snap.”
Keith nods as Coran strides away. He glances up to
make sure there are no customers nearby, then props his elbows on the counter
and lets his head rest in his hands. His face pulses hot against his hand; he
can feel the headache in his forehead, behind his eyes, in his cheeks, his nose
… everywhere. And there’s a puffy,
swollen feeling to his face, too, reminding him a little of when he got his
wisdom teeth removed in high school.
The sound of shuffling feet makes Keith jerk back from
the counter and force his aching body to straighten up. Blinking tiredly, he
looks toward the front of the checkout line. His shoulders relax a little when
he sees it’s Lance, his arms loaded with boxes of Kleenex and about a dozen
kinds of cold and flu medicine.
“Hey, man,” Lance says. He dumps his supplies on the
counter, and the clatter makes Keith wince. “How are you feeling?”
Keith wants to say, but considering he woke Lance up blowing his nose this
morning, he knows his roommate will call his bullshit. He shrugs. “I’ve been
“You’ve also been better.” Lance frowns at him. “Do
you have a fever? You’re face looks red.”
“No, just a headache.” Keith swipes one of the Kleenex
boxes across his register, wincing again when the scanner beeps. “What’re you
buying all this stuff for?”
“You, ya dork.” Lance begins bagging his stuff as
Keith slides it away from the register (Keith would normally tell him that’s
unnecessary, but he’s too exhausted to argue right now). “Also I’m dragging
your sick butt to the health center tomorrow.”
“No, you’re not.” Keith shoves one of the tissue boxes
at him a little harder than necessary. “I told you, I’m fine.”
Lance gives him a look for a few seconds but then goes
back to bagging his stuff. Keith lets out a relieved sigh that makes him cough
a little; he really doesn’t feel up to arguing with Lance right now.
“When’s your break?” Lance asks.
“Half hour.” Keith’s eyes start to water as the
ever-present itch in his nose flares. He bites down on his lip hard, the same
way he’s been doing every time a sneeze has threatened to interrupt his
interaction with a customer, except this time it only halfway works. He shudders
with a stifled sneeze that sends pain bursting through his sinuses.
“Bless you?” Lance says, although it sounds more like
Keith wipes at his watery eyes and mumbles, “Thanks.”
He drags the sleeve of his jacket across his nose, holding his breath for a few
seconds. The itch is still there, and he’s just hoping if he doesn’t breathe
maybe it will die down a little.
“You shouldn’t buy all this,” he mutters after a
minute, gesturing vaguely to the tissues and medicine.
“Keith, buddy, you’ve had the plague for—”
“—for two weeks. You’re either going to die or give it
to me if you don’t get better soon.”
Keith rolls his eyes, then winces for what seems like
the hundredth time tonight as his headache throbs in protest. “I’m not dying.
And Hunk offered to let you stay with him.”
Lance scoffs. “Right, like I’m going to leave you to
your own devices while you’re sick. You’d probably be dead without me.”
He knows it’s going to hurt, but Keith can’t help rolling his eyes again.
Ignoring his roommate’s irritation, Lance gathers up
the last of his supplies, looping his arms through the handles of the bags.
“Well, text me when you’re on your break.”
Keith’s eyes water a little; he presses his wrist to
his nose to quell the itch and speaks around his jacket sleeve, his voice
coming out muffled. “Why?”
Lance’s thin shoulders jerk in a shrug. “I need help
Keith gives him a look but mutters a quiet, “Fine.”
The next half hour drags by. The store is nearly
empty, so Keith shifts over to the dollar section and begins trying to organize
it. Between the florescent lights overhead and the pulsing in his head, his
eyes are starting to ache so much he’s struggling to see clearly. And the
headache’s getting worse, too—it’s morphed from a dull throbbing to shooting
pains across his forehead and cheeks. When he touches the back of his hand to
his cheek, his skin burns unnaturally. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a fever
(he checked this morning), but his face is just so hot.
When he goes on break, he hunches deeper into his
jacket and sends Lance a text. Lance responds within seconds.
hey I’m in the parking lot, come meet me at the car?
Keith shivers as he looks outside. The sky is still
dumping buckets of rain, and it’s starting to fall in sideways sheets, the wind
whipping it off course.
He scowls. Leave it to Lance to want help with
homework when it’s pouring and Keith is already miserable.
He should have told Lance to wait until later.
He probably still could, but something stubborn makes
him stuff his phone in his pocket.
With a deep breath, Keith steps outside and dashes
through the parking lot. Up ahead he can see the lights of Lance’s car, and he
splashes toward them, his sneakers hitting puddles so hard they soak the bottom
third of his pants. Within seconds, his hair is clinging to his face, and he
can barely keep his eyes open against the stinging rain.
When he arrives at Lance’s car, he yanks the passenger
door open and throws himself inside.
Lance stares at him with wide eyes. “I thought you had
an umbrella!” he half-yells.
Keith shivers hard; his body has gone rigid with cold
and his voice comes out sharp. “I forgot it at home, which you would have
noticed if you’d paid any attention.” He glares at Lance, although it’s cut
short as his face crumples with a sneeze so forceful it makes his shoulders
ache. The pain in his face bursts in his sinuses, and a groan grates against
“Keith, buddy …” Lance cranks up the heat so high it
rumbles in the car. “Man, I’m so sorry.”
Keith lets out another sneeze, too exhausted and shivery
to hold them back anymore. He blindly fishes in the glove compartment for the
napkins Lance hoards from fast food restaurants as his breath continues
“Take your jacket off,” Lance says, reaching over to
help him find a wad of napkins. “And … I’ll set the air to hit your feet, so
maybe it’ll help dry out your shoes and pants a little.”
“Thanks,” Keith says weakly, his voice suddenly very
small and very hoarse. He inhales with a sharp gasp and curls into himself,
clutching a handful of napkins to his face as another sneeze rocks through him.
“Maybe you should call out,” Lance says. “You sound
“Can’t,” Keith mutters from behind the napkins. “Too
many people already called out.”
“But if you need to, I’m sure Coran will understand.
Plus there can’t be that many people coming in anyway with the rain.”
Keith blows his nose, muttering a quiet “ouch” into
the napkins. He stuffs the used napkins into his jacket pocket and then works
on pulling it off; it’s strangely a more complicated process than normal, his
arms somehow getting tangled in the soaked material. He isn’t sure if it’s
because the jacket is wet and sticking to his skin or if it’s because of the
fuzzy confusion settling in his head.
“I cand’t call out,” he says, congestion creeping into
his voice. He sniffles hard, grimacing at how his sinuses sting, and clears his
throat in an effort to make his voice sound more normal. “They’ll give me
Lance rolls his eyes. Keith’s work has a stupid system
where every time someone calls out on the day of their shift, they’re
penalized. If they get too many points, they’ll be fired. “Screw that, man.
You’re basically dying.”
Keith pushes his dripping hair out of his face, a
chill going through him. “I’m not dying, Lance.”
Lance frowns at him. “You will be if you don’t take a
“I can’t.” Keith slumps against the window, his eyes
slipping shut and cheek pressing against the glass. Even after running through
the rain, his face feels hot against the cold window. “I only have a couple
“Lance.” Keith’s voice is quiet but firm. “Just let me
finish. I’ll be fine. I just need to warm up.”
Lance lets out a soft sigh. “Okay, but when you get
home, you’re taking all this medicine I got you.”
“Fine.” Keith forces one eye open and peers at Lance
through the car’s dim light. “What homework did you want help with?”
“What do you—oh.” Lance grins. “I made that up so
you’d come out.”
Keith gives him a flat look.
“I figured you weren’t going to call out of work,”
Lance continues, “so I brought you some soup Hunk made.” He reaches into the
backseat and pulls out a thermos and a plastic spoon. “It’s probably still
Keith blinks slowly. It takes a few seconds too long
for Lance’s words to register. “Oh,” he mumbles. “I thought—okay.”
Lance bites his lip uncertainly. “I just kinda thought
you wouldn’t come out if I said I had soup.”
“Because … I don’t know … you try to do everything by
yourself.” A smile tugs at the corner of Lance’s mouth. “I mean, you barely
even let me buy you cold medicine.”
“Because we don’t need fifteen boxes of it.”
“I didn’t know what flavor you like! And some people
feel weird with certain medicine, and I wasn’t sure there was a certain kind
you didn’t like, so I just grabbed them all.” When Keith starts to smile a
little, Lance shoves the soup at him. “Just shut up for like five seconds and
eat this, mullet.”
Keith opens the thermos and stirs the spoon through
the soup. The light overhead barely illuminates the interior of the car, but he
can tell it’s chicken noodle. Hunk made
the same thing at the very beginning of the semester when Pidge, Lance, and
most of the school came down with colds.
He takes a bite of the soup; it’s salty and fills his
mouth and throat with soothing warmth. “Tell Hunk thanks,” he says.
“I will. He brought more; it’s in the fridge at home.”
Lance turns the heat down one notch. “Pidge brought a bunch of tea over, too.”
Keith wrinkles his nose slightly as he takes another
bite of soup. “I’m not really a tea person.”
“You will be if you want to not lose your voice,”
Lance says. “If you put enough honey in it, you’ll like it.”
Keith shrugs and goes back to eating his soup. He’s
only a few bites in when his nose starts bothering him again. The soup isn’t
even steaming, but the warmth is enough to make his nose tingle and run. He
shoves the thermos into the cupholder as his breath begins to falter, his
eyelashes fluttering and hand hovering by his mouth. A few seconds later, he
lurches forward with a sneeze that he feels all the way down in his ribs.
“Bless you,” Lance says, cringing. “That sounded like
“It did,” Keith admits. He hesitates for a second
before adding, “My … whole face kind of hurts.”
“Sounds like a sinus infection.”
“Keith, buddy, you need to go to the health center.”
Lance eyes him anxiously as Keith rubs a finger across the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t think you’re getting any better on your own.”
Keith pulls the thermos back into his lap and
sniffles. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ll … I’ll probably go tomorrow morning.” The
thought makes him shudder; he hates doctors’ offices and tends to avoid them
unless he’s actually dying.
“I can go with you if you want.” Lance adjusts one of
the heating vents so it’s pointed toward Keith’s damp shirt. “If we go early
enough, I’ll have time before my first class.”
Keith eyes him over his spoon. “I don’t need you to
babysit me, Lance.”
“I’d just be there for moral support.” Lance smirks.
“And to make sure you actually go.” When Keith gives him a look, he laughs.
“Only joking! I just thought it might make it easier if you didn’t have to go
“Maybe,” Keith concedes.
Lance smiles as if he’s won some sort of victory.
The two of them sit in relative silence while Keith eats
his soup; Lance tells him about some of his classes but keeps the talking to a
minimum since Keith keeps rubbing his forehead gingerly. The rain pounds on the
car roof, and the wind gusts across the deserted parking lot. Keith’s still
damp, but he’s starting to dry out some and the heater has chased away his
When he’s reached the bottom of the thermos, Keith
sets it and the spoon back in the cupholder. “I should probably head back
inside,” he says, although he doesn’t leave immediately. He sits there quietly
for a few seconds, chewing his lip and watching the rain through the
windshield. Finally, without shifting his gaze to Lance, he softly adds,
“Thanks for bringing the soup. Sorry if I’m …”
“A stubborn idiot?” Lance asks, and when Keith looks
at him, he’s smirking.
Keith narrows his eyes at Lance. “I was going to say
difficult, but sure.”
“No problem, man. I hope you feel better.”
“I do.” He’s far from one hundred percent and his head
is still throbbing angrily, but the shivery, achy feeling from standing behind
his register and running through the rain is gone.
Keith starts to open the car door when Lance says,
“Wait, wait, hold up a second!”
Keith turns to watch as Lance fishes around in the
backseat. After a moment he settles back into his seat, a folded, slightly damp
umbrella clutched in his hand. He holds it out to Keith. “Take this with you.”
“No,” Keith says, shaking his head. “You have a longer
way to walk from the parking lot to the dorms.”
“So I’ll call Hunk and have him come get me with an
umbrella.” Lance gives the umbrella a shake. “Come on. Take it.”
Keith’s mouth lifts in a small smile as he slips his
hand around it.