#dawnedbreak

Send one an I will draw my muse + (your muse) in this AU

☕️ - Coffee shop AU

There’s a little boy that occasionally comes in, probably after school. He orders nothing but a cup of hot chocolate or a plate of cookies (since that’s all he could probably afford) and sits by the window to do his homework.

Being a regular long enough, one of the waiters made friends with him and would sometimes give him extra cookies. And in return the little boy would have someone to talk to. Sometimes he’d also talk about what he learnt in school. The waiter didn’t understand maths for some reason (probably why he’s never allowed to work the cashier).

  It wasn't like he wanted to be here anyway, but if he didn't go or ran away, she'd tell someone and they'd come looking for him. The memories were vague, but he remembered the first time they came looking to force him to learn how to talk and not climb on things and sit down quietly like a good boy. None of that was anything he particularly wanted to do, but he remembered. It had hurt. In hindsight, he supposed that was fair because he hurt some of them, he just didn't want a repeat of it. Whatever those little black boxes with the metal thingies on it were, they made it impossible to fight back once they were close enough to jab him with it. Even Wired wasn't any good anymore.

  Cheek sagging into one cupped hand, he bounced his stand around on his tongue out of boredom, rattling it against his front teeth. Tick. Tick. Tick. His eyes wandered aimlessly all around, the room was really different from the one he shared with a few other boys. There was color that wasn't brown or white and it smelled nice. Like flowers? There weren't any around, though. He sniffed the air. Definitely flowers, where were they? Over there in the drawers maybe.

  Springing to his feet he scuttled over to pull open the object of his first guess. No, they weren't there. Maybe the one beneath it? Oh, and before he forgot…

  Comically smug about having outsmarted her by simply getting up and walking away, he threw Yasuho a self-satisfied look over his shoulder. The power of words was one of the first thing he'd picked up as soon as he'd gotten a rudimentary grasp of the language and this one was among his favorites.

  “No.”

ah, yes. of course. makoto had nearly forgotten she's supposed to meet with yusuke today. yusuke, the most eccentric of the phantom thieves. always recognizable by his too-perfect hair, his infinite amount of suitcases that he always seems to be carrying around. for a minute, she was content sitting in this restaurant booth by herself. but the more the merrier, she supposes.

" hello, yusuke, " she smiles, gesturing to the booth seat situated directly in front of her. " it's nice to see you. i called you out here for a reason, you know. "

what was the reason, again ? god damn it ! makoto racks her brain desperately for the answer as a moment passes by.

there it is.

To those who didn’t know Fugo well, they would have assumed that Fugo was one of the more collected members of Bruno’s young group. And perhaps, it was true; Fugo was calm, he was calculating... when he wasn’t suddenly incited into fury. This moment was not one of those moments of senseless anger.

Fugo didn’t glance up at Narancia as he flipped to the next page, a finger under each word that he spoke aloud. Perhaps it was rather monotonous for the subject, in which the protagonist of this action-packed story was confronting a beast, but Fugo had never been able to grasp the art of story-telling.

Examining the mirror before him, his fingers slowly traced the filigree designs that decorated its frame, briefly wondering if Illuso particularly picks these mirrors according to his personal tastes. He turned to look at the stand user in question. Prosciutto admitted, his time with the assassin was cordial at best, so most of the conversation he struck with him was typically centered around work and the inner workings of his stand. He hadn’t taken the time to take Illuso out for espresso just yet.

✣ ——— Polnareff had to chuckle at the things young Narancia spoke of sometimes. It was as there was this old wise man inside of him just struggling to get out at times, but at the same time he spoke with such a naive tone that he didn’t really understood what he said at times. It reminded him of himself when he was that young. It was so long ago that it hit him like a brick how far he had come in this existence. The hardships and the wonderful moments he shared with those he cared for. 

                 Death. Something he was all too accustomed to. An ugly word, yet an inevitable truth. The only thing that was guaranteed to everyone. It could come slow with old age or swiftly at any moment. Even himself if he so chose to finally let go and move on, but it seemed that fate had other things in stored for him. 

                 The Frenchman gave Narancia the brightest smile he could muster, “It truly is. Everyone will eventually meet their end, but trust me when I say that it is what you do with the life you have right now that will determine how satisfied you are when the time comes. Live everyday as if its the last as they say. Just do it responsibly.” He could go on for hours on the topic, but he doesn’t want to bore the man. “Well I guess with our line of work, living responsibly is a stretch. Don’t you think?”

Something like this has been expected from the start, and he supposes it’s better a little late than never.

Jotaro knows he very well would have done the same at Jolyne’s age if his own absent father had decided to walk back into his life as if there weren’t any issues to be resolved or things to apologize for. One thing that he definitely hadn’t expected was how cold the water would be.

It must have been chilling in the refrigerator for hours, that’s for certain, and he makes his discomfort very clear when he—

“ Oi, what the fuck ?! ”

—snaps.

Although, Jotaro isn’t the person he was when he was seventeen. He is glad for this, glad that it isn’t so easy to stay mad once he gets angry. Now, anger turns to laughter, causing him to tremble even more than he already is from this freezing water.

     There’s a quaint, little café Eijun likes to visit on his off-days. Which isn’t often, considering he’s almost always doing something baseball-related one way or another. It takes Kuramochi’s Muay Thai kicks and Miyuki’s badgering to convince him to take his much-needed break seriously. Preferably, somewhere far away from Seidou dorms, lest he’s hit with the sudden urge to run around the vicinity of the field. ( He already got ten laps in when the other two were too preoccupied to notice. ) This particular café, so to speak, acts as a sanctuary of some sort; a hideaway void of all things baseball and all things peaceful and quiet and still.

     And it’s in this refuge of his that he met and befriended fellow sportsmen Kozume Kenma, in which, their meetings go a little along the lines of something like this:

     “K-KENMA!!!”

     His voice resonates within the hushed atmosphere, half-booming, half-flabbergasted.

     An accusatory finger points to the boy in question, who mutters a silent: “What?”

     “No, no, no! Don’t what me…! You… you…!”

     “Eijun, you’re too loud.”

     “You were supposed to wait for me to take a picture!”

     He finally bellows out in between huffs and puffs, closed fists slamming onto the table in a moment of evident frustration. It’s here that Kenma is already frowning at this point, either too weary or too listless to dissuade the oncoming rant from Eijun’s loudmouth. Trust Eijun to get hungover on something so trivial as a missed photo opportunity. Bundling up his emotions would prove the opposite effect, for he was the type to hold insane and long grudges. It’s situations like these where it’s best to let him go on and on until he realizes how idiotic he sounds.

     ( Hopefully, at least. )

     “Listen here, you! It’s proper etiquette! Proper etiquette to take a photo before gobbling up your meal like a beast! A true gourmet has to take his time and appreciate the plating! The colors and aesthetics! Then they must expertly find the right lighting and the proper angle and voila! A perfect picture! WAHAHAHA!”

     But, his boisterous laugh is only short-lived before he releases an audible gasp.

     “Oh… OHHHH!!! Could it be?! Has Kenma… Has Kenma turned into a beast?! AHHHH, of course, that’s it! You were looking a little thinner than usual. You must’ve been starving! You’ve been training so hard that you haven’t gotten enough time to properly eat three bowls of rice for every meal! Which means… You’re no longer a cat…! You’re a  ━━  CAT DEMON!”

     Before Kenma even has the chance to tell Eijun off on how incredibly wrong he was, they’re interrupted by the waitress.

     “…Excuse me, could you two please leave? You’re disturbing the customers.”