#hugs and strawberries

[cassiecasyl]

i love you berry much

Hi hi!! Did you miss me? Well, it’s Tony’s and my birthday so you know what that means!! I didn’t really feel all that fluffy today so have some hurt/comfort instead :3  read last years’: 2021 2022

The water lapped gently at the docks, driven by the soft spring night wind that was currently also playing with his hair. Peter let the constant rhythm lull him in, let it drown out the noise and laughter from the party behind him. The water slowly approached, running up just to crash against the wooden pillars in a splashing crescendo. Afterward, it always retreated, collecting itself for the next attempt. It was comforting like grass swaying, and familiar like words bouncing around his mouth, never sure when to leave. Like a hand gently tapping on his shoulder. 

A tiny tremor rippled through his body as he awoke. Peter turned and looked up to find Mr. Stark smiling at him. He was holding a brown basket of sorts. “Hey, kiddo, there you are! You were suddenly gone.” 

Peter blinked. The water seemed to have settled in his belly now, lapping at his skeleton. “You noticed?” 

His mentor’s eyebrows scrunched up slightly; maybe, there were rain clouds on the horizon. Peter swallowed and looked down. The rain would only hasten the erosion the lake had already begun. 

“Of course I noticed, Peter,” Mr. Stark said, his voice almost uncharacteristically soft. He settled down next to the boy and sat the basket down in front of them. It was filled with strawberries, Peter noted with confusion. The bright-red fruits shone with the promise of happiness that came with their sweet taste. 

“I will never not notice when my favorite Spiderling goes MIA,” he continued. 

I’m your only Spiderling, Peter wanted to say, but instead of taking the hook for deflection, he said: “I’m sorry.” This only deepened the clouds hanging over Tony’s features, and Peter damned the hail inside his soul. Though, before he could let it swallow him whole, there was a soft tap on his shoulder. Mr. Stark had opened his arms in question. Peter only hesitated a little before he leaned in. A content sigh escaped his lips as his weary body melted into the warm embrace. 

“What are you sorry for?” the man asked eventually. 

Peter hid his face against Mr. Stark’s chest. “For ruining your birthday,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, kid, but you gotta speak up a little. I don’t have your super-hearing, unfortunately.” 

Peter huffed in frustration. His eyes down-trodden, he sat up a little, sucking in air. Mr. Stark rubbed over his shoulder blades in comfort. “I feel like I’m ruining your birthday,” he confessed. When he glanced up, Mr. Stark’s shocked and worried expression made the rain start falling. He was making everything worse. 

Instantly, Tony wrapped his arms around his kid again, rocking them slightly. Like grass swaying in the wind, Peter realized. The man’s heart drummed on in a beat faster than the water, but it was clear and sound. Safe. “No, no, no,” he whispered into Peter’s locks. “What gave you that idea? Did Nebula threaten you? Because I can assure you, she’s working on her violent tendencies.” 

Peter chuckled, and the clouds gave way for a single ray of sunshine. “No. It’s just— Everyone’s celebrating, and I’m just here being a downer and I don’t even know why. I mean, I didn’t even have a gift ready for you!” 

“Peter, listen to me. You being here, alive and in one piece, is the best gift you could ever give me. I don’t care if you gave me a thousand teddy bears or blew up the lab. I’m just glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Peter said. Unconsciously, he had shifted so his ear was lying right over Mr. Stark’s heart. It had slowed a little now, but it was still beating steadily. On and on. No terrible silence in sight. Mr. Stark held him and the world became a little warmer. 

“A thousand teddy bears, huh?” the boy inquired after a while, his voice lighter than it had been in a while. 

“Oh no, don’t get any ideas,” Mr. Stark admonished lightly. “You know, I once gifted Pepper a giant teddy bear. Didn’t go over well…” 

Peter laughed. “You did what?” 

“I gave Pepper a giant teddy bear. It was like 10 feet tall or something. Pep was not amused, to say the least. To be fair, I was not doing great at the time,” he explained. 

“I bet Morgan would love it,” Peter pondered and burst out laughing at Mr. Stark’s pained expression. The man scooped up the bowl of strawberries and placed it into Peter’s hands. 

“Now, no more teddy bear shenanigans. Eat some. I know you haven’t eaten near enough at dinner and spiders gotta eat.” Peter blinked and took a strawberry. 

“Why do you even have these?” — he asked while munching — “I mean, is it even safe? Pepper’s allergic, and you always say Morgan comes after her.” 

“Because you like them,” Mr. Stark said as if it was the simplest thing. “And don’t worry, Morgan’s not allergic, she just prefers different fruits. I did get Pepper’s permission for once, too.” 

“Oh, wow, I’m proud!” Peter half-joked. “Also, Morgan is wrong because strawberries are clearly the best. My condolences to Mrs. Potts-Stark.” Tony chuckled and took one himself, quickly evading Peter’s wavy hands. 

“Thank you,” Peter said. 

Tony smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Anytime, kid.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, with Peter munching on his strawberries. The water continued to dance with the pillars, keeping up their rhythm. When most of the strawberries were gone, Peter considered the last ones carefully. He took one out, the biggest that was left, and presented it to the man beside him. 

“Mr. Stark? I love you berry much.” 

To Tony’s credit, he did not only roll his eyes at the pun, but also snorted. He took the strawberry with a thanking nod and bit into it. After it was gone, he pulled the kid close again and kissed the top of his head. “I love you strawberry much too, il mio bambino.” 

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

koby day!!!💖

koby doodles

[rosylamb]

🤍 🧸 ⊹ ｡⋆ Hi, my friends . . guess what ??

Today I’m a birthday princess !!! 🧁

So here is a special birthday outfit of the day :D

I love this dress so much !! I always feel really happy when I wear it cus it’s so pretty ♡

(I usually wear it with a cardigan or sweater, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see it properly)

How is everyone doing today? Are you feeling happy, too ??

I hope so, but if you aren’t then I’ll share *all* the happiness that I’m feeling with you! ♡ ♡

Cus I’m so thankful for all the birthday wishes! Each one made me smile *so* much !!

I did a lot of stuff today though, so I haven’t been able to get back to anything yet, but I will try tomorrow !! ♡ ♡

Until then lots of birthday hugs, cupcakes, and love for you, my sweet friends !! I’m wishing you just as special of a day, and all the very best ~ ! XOXO

　 🤍 ⊹｡⁺ ♡ .˳·˖ 🧸

🧸 ⋆.✧˚ * . ♡ 🧁 ♡ . ⊹｡⁺ 🤍

[shuueep]

I made a plush kinda inspired by princess strawberry (atleast from the bow)

[loversmore]

2minwonhan + flowers

for @seoksgyu 🤍

[emo-batboy]

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Battinson who actually has naturally curly, dirty blond hair that he got from his parents. Picture this:

Bruce whose hair is a kaleidoscope of golden blond and strawberry blond and dirty blond that can’t be tamed when it’s humid out because it’s too wavy and curly and voluminous all at once

Bruce who looks so bright and cheerful with his soft facial structure and crazy hair that cannot be replicated because it’s so uniquely Bruce

Bruce who is a spitting image of his mother’s gorgeous natural color and his father’s wild mane

Bruce who absolutely destroys his natural hair because it reminds him too much of his parents

Bruce who tries desperately to avoid the gut-wrenching comments from those stupid rich people who thought they can bring up his parents just because they used to be friends

Bruce who feels physically ill whenever he hears “Oh you look just like your parents.” “They should have been here to see you.” “You’re a spitting image.”

Bruce who religiously dyes his hair a boring brown and straightens the shit out of it until it’s damaged beyond belief by the age of 18 but at least he doesn’t hear those stupid remarks anymore

Bruce who forgets to wash it sometimes but doesn’t care because his hair is his least favorite thing about his appearance

Bruce who gels the ever-loving fuck out of it to avoid it getting it in his eyes, but he also hates getting haircuts so it gets way too long and happens anyway

Bruce who gets greasepaint in it all the time, wears hats and hoods whenever appropriate, just can’t stop messing with it but hates bringing attention to the thing so he has to glue his hands to his side in public

Bruce who is a stranger to everyone and himself, especially his hair

Bruce who mourns it like he’s still mourning his parents

Now imagine:

Bruce who is going through the aftermath of the Riddler case and the floods

Bruce who only just realized that vengeance is not the answer

Bruce who wants to become Hope but doesn’t know how yet

Bruce who decides that he can’t hide himself behind a cowl all the time now so he chooses to develop a better public image

Bruce who realizes this requires a public appearance as well

Bruce who is way too busy saving the city to keep up his hair dye routine so he forgets to touch up his roots a couple of times

Bruce who is advised to stop gelling his hair back so much because it makes him look less approachable

Bruce who feels so awkward and vulnerable when his hair isn’t hidden behind a hat or some product or his cowl but he goes through the motions because he wants to try his best to be the hero Gotham needs right now

Bruce who walks into Mayor Real’s office one morning, hair sticking up all over the place after stopping no less than 10 muggings the night before, his natural dirty blond in full effect and strikingly…warm

“Did you dye your hair?” Real asks. Bruce pauses. “Uh, no. I stopped dying it a few weeks ago.” “I didn’t know your hair was blond.” He braces for the comments, but she doesn’t mention his parents. Instead, she just smiles. “It suits you.”

Bruce who genuinely doesn’t know how to handle the simple compliment so he just awkwardly shuffles around it and into their discussion on infrastructure

Bruce who stands outside of her office for five minutes after their meeting because he hasn’t stopped thinking about the mortifying reality that his natural hair is visible again

Bruce who also can’t stop thinking about how she said it. It suits him.

Bruce whose natural hair suits him?

Bruce who finally gets the time to dye it again after two months of nonstop work but when he thinks about what Real said…he decides against it. For now

Bruce who starts getting used to seeing his dirty blond hair in the mirror again, even expects it. visualizes it

Bruce who knows when it’s getting too dirty because the small peaks of gold disappear so he starts washing it more regularly

Bruce who watches the volume come back and doesn’t hate it

Bruce who sees the rat’s nest in the morning of golden brown and random reds and even a streak of chestnut and doesn’t immediately reach for gel and a straightener anymore. Instead, he just runs a hand through it and thinks ‘to hell with it, it’s fine like this’

Bruce who gains favor from the public along with a new look, a fresher one

Bruce who becomes a familiar face on TV as the soft-spoken billionaire with the dirty blond hair that never looks right but it’s personable

Bruce who shakes hands and holds babies and hugs kids and the most compliments he gets are for his hair

Bruce who always has just a few strands of hair sticking up in the most random direction but he just swats it away (in another wild direction) and that’s that

Bruce who stops caring so much about being clean-shaven and now sports a bit of stubble because he just likes it that way

Bruce whose hair gets naturally much lighter in the summertime because he’s outside so much now and so his golden roots bleed into a rich strawberry blond

Bruce who has so many unflattering photos from the press of his hair actually looking like a rat’s nest, like seriously how does it look That Bad (Alfred thinks it’s hilarious)

Bruce who gets haircuts regularly now and always asks if they can use as little product as possible because “I don’t like when it’s sticky” but he always likes when it’s just a bit long too

Bruce who tugs on his hair, not to push it away but to fidget with it during meetings, making it even crazier

Bruce who can be recognized from the back by his crazy swirl of hair

Bruce who’s been sporting this new hair for a year now, the summer has passed and his hair is comfortably golden brown again (emphasis on the golden) and it’s bittersweet because he actually finds that he misses the striking blond streaks in July

But it’s all worth it when he notices his curls are finally coming back in the front

Bruce who looks like a completely different person than before and he’s so so happy

[cherryschaos]

TIG characters as things I've said recently

Xander: Stop making fun of my eyebrow bald spot

Grayson: I forgot to take my depression meds this morning, do I have to participate

Alisa: Don't gasp like that, it makes me think something's wrong.

Jameson: I came up with this drink concoction I'm officially a genius

Gigi: Okay, but like maybe it won't diuretic more than you're already diureticing

Strawberry Blonde Sociopath #2 (E**) You win the game by being a good liar? Lying? That's like breathing for me

Max: Kylie taught me how to twerk

Libby: I'm sorry I just didn't know who else to call

Grayson: Here, you can borrow my pen. Just don't break it.

Thea: I don't like drama, I like being informed. I'm drama adjacent

Nash: Which option will let you sleep easier

Alisa: I manage phones and family, you take care of patients

Xander: Walk away from the doughnuts. Walk AWAY from the doughnuts.

Jameson: The foreshadowing in this…I can't.

Grayson: How the hell are they that stupid?

Nana: Does it count as murder if it's known they have sleep apnea?

Gigi: I need more coffee

Xander: BEHOLD! The first scribblings of the romance book I've told you my idea about

Max: This author writes smut that will really test your pokerface

Jameson: I don't want your fiance’s armpit germs on my deodorant

Avery: Your name is not a reason why your statement is correct

Alisa: And that is why you shouldn't make friends

[rudnitskaia]

Someone she knows just had a baby and Mau is asked if she wants to hold it, how odes she react?

follow-up question is she good with kids?

Thank you so much for the ask, @coffeintheface, it was super cute to draw! I love to dive into such cozy scenes, they soothe me, and I hope you'll feel that warmth, too. ✨💖✨

And it was the perfect opportunity to show Mau as a kid. :3 Augusto daily tried his best to braid her hair, let's praise the man, he's a pro now. x))

[bestfictionalhome-tourneygirl]

Welcome to the

BEST FICTIONAL HOME TOURNAMENT

Where there’s no place like home💕

Below the cut are the listed contestants in order!

If you don’t see your submission, don’t lose hope! Some of the entries that bent the rules a little will be added as the wild card entries before the finals.

Reminder: Owl House will go against the winner of the brackets in the finals on merit!

Best of luck to your home sweet home!

Side A

The Planet Express Building Futurama

The Lake Hoohaw Houseboat PB&J Otter

Mystery Shack Gravity Falls

Blue’s House Blue’s Clues

Strawberry Shortcake’s House Strawberry Shortcake: The Animated Series (2003)

Oscar’s Trash Can Sesame Street

The Heeler’s House Bluey

Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends

Squidward’s House Spongebob Squarepants

The Loud House The Loud House

742 Evergreen Terrace The Simpsons

The Dreamhouse Barbie: Life In The Dreamhouse

Zim’s Base Invader Zim

The Pineapple Spongebob Squarepants

The Tortuga The Wild Kratts

Sector V’s Treehouse Codename Kids Next Door

Side B

Housey Rolie Polie Olie

Catdog’s House Catdog

The Farmhouse Pettersson und Findus

USS Enterprise Star Trek: The Animated Series

The Big Blue House Bear and the Big Blue House

The Flinstone’s Cave The Flinstones

McDuck Manor Ducktales

The Funny House Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared

Golden Oaks Library My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Granny’s Mansion The Looney Tunes Show

Finn and Jake’s Treehouse Adventure Time

The Hazbin Hotel The Hazbin Hotel

USS Cerritos Star Trek Lower Deck

Busterfield Library Between The Lions

Robot Arms Apartment 00100100 Futurama

The Beach House Steven Universe

[dabideku-tododeku-bakudeku-2023]

Aw, look at him...don't you just want to hug him? I do!

[sleepingcatemojis]

hello! i don’t suppose i could trouble you for some of the plushie hugging/rocking emojis that are pink and/or cow plushies? if yes, then thank you lots!! if not, that’s fair hdhsbdbxdbx all good

here you go!

[xxxcoffinz-aeztheticzxxx]

A board I made bazed on Characterz that remind me of Zpecial one!

[chaosduckies]

little drawing a did last night featuring: @silly-cedar, @shrimpfried-gt, and @dav8530 (click for better quality TwT)

We’re just trying to figure out where the ice cream place is. Tallest has to pay! >:3

Just made this because I think you’re all really cool people :D

I hope none of you mind me randomly doing this but I hope you enjoy it all the same! What’s y’alls favorite flavor of ice cream? (You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but mine is strawberry cheesecake :D)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

This Reality

For @amonthofwhump's day 3 and day 4:

3: George Bailey “We’ve lost everything we have.” | Disowned Drowning | Comfort: Christmas Market

4: The Grinch Sedatives | Blackmail | Yandere Whumper | Comfort: Ugly Sweater Party

Follows on this piece exploring the AU of Chris never being rescued/running away and instead being abandoned years later on the street

CW: Drug use, drugged whumpee, references to noncon/dubcon scattered throughout

-

“Hey.”

A foot nudges against his side, but Baldur barely notices the pressure pushing into one rib. He’s drowning and it feels wonderful. The push of the pill through his veins keeps him languid and loose-limbed, lying on the ground with his eyes open, staring up into the watercolor sunset. He can feel the earth turning on its axis, spinning wildly in the empty universe. The pinks and reds in the clouds above him shift and change with the movement. 

Everything was so loud today. There are people everywhere, crowding together for the Christmas parade. He’d taken his usual route around looking for someone who might give him a bed to sleep in if he handed over the body everyone used anyway, but instead of the usual handful he knew, there had been police officers watching with their handler-like eyes, groups of families fighting and laughing and shouting.

The Christmas market and parade. He’d forgotten about it.

His Sir had always given a speech at the parade, ridden in a float. Baldur had watched him on television each year, lying in silence on the floor, wondering if he missed his Sir or was glad for the time alone. Desperately grateful for any time at all where he wasn’t afraid.

But then he’d forgotten it would still happen, even after his Sir didn’t want him anymore. 

Today had been terrifying. People everywhere and he’d had to push through them as he moved, the constant weight of their voices pressing his brain into a smaller and smaller space, bouncing around the inside of his skull. 

He’d caught himself shifting his hands, trying to flap, had to stop himself - stillness is better than what I do - repeating his handler’s mantra for him in his mind over and over and over again. But if he couldn’t move, he couldn’t get the sounds out from under his skin. Everything had been crawling over him, laying against him, buzzing like bees in his ears and behind his teeth.

Then he’d run into Vamp, a runaway like him who works a corner at night and a convenience store counter during daylight. She’d seen the look on his face when he ducked inside to hold off the worst of the noise and told him to wait while she got something out of her purse. She’d even bought him a bottle of water to wash it down with.

About an hour after that, and in the hours since, everything has been soft around the edges, the noise bouncing off of him. There’s a wall between him and the rest of the world. He doesn’t even know when he got to the park, only that at some point he stopped standing upright and instead was like this. Nothing ached in his legs and arms any longer, his mind no longer buzzed with the weight of the noise.

It feels just like the mornings at home with Sir, or when he’d gone off to work for the day and left Baldur behind, dozing drugged in his bed waiting for him to come back.

He used to cry all the time, when Sir was gone, wishing he could think again. Palming the pills when he dared. Now he just wishes he could at least go back to the quiet room and the comfortable bed, to one man demanding access to him in exchange for his life, instead of many. But the pill helps.

A little.

The foot nudges him again.

“Hey, are you-... are you dead?”

Baldur manages a blink. He has to consciously tell his head to move on the stem of his neck to look to the left now and see the man leaning over him, staring down. 

Vaguely familiar, with wild black curls ringing a perfectly lovely face, big warm blue eyes, dark brows a little knit together with concern. The guy who bought him breakfast a couple of weeks ago, he thinks, after they’d been the stars of the show in that house the night before. That had been fun, Baldur thinks. Maybe. Or had it not been? Skin on skin never feels good, but he’s supposed to act like it does. Sometimes he blanks out and he thinks his body has fun, then… His lips move with his thoughts, unable to separate enough not to. 

The man squints. “Okay, so not dead, definitely moving and breathing, but… are you, like, OD-ing, or… what is this whole thing happening here? What am I looking at?”

“... colors,” Baldur whispers, and looks back up into the sky above him. Grass tickles the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. “Night, soon. Then we’ll see stars, stars dead… a billion years ago. Far enough… far enough away… we still see the lights. Like me. Dead but you still see me… dead, but the image… like ghosts. Like… us.”

The man’s frown deepens, but he drops into a crouch, laying a hand on Baldur’s forehead, pressing a palm to his cheeks one after the other. He closes his eyes at the touch and pushes up into it like a cat. His Sir never cared enough to check him for fevers like that. He has fuzzy memories of a woman, dark hair, smiling eyes, who would do that. Oh, sweet boy. You’re on fire, huh? The image dissolves, though, before he can hang onto it or turn the impression into a real memory. It leaves an imprint of pain behind, making him wince.

The man pulls his hand quickly away, and Baldur fights back the urge to whimper at the loss.

No one touches him anymore unless they want to fuck him about it. He’s so tired of just wanting someone to hold him and stop there. 

The man sighs, shifting to sit down. “Just really fucked up, huh? I get it.” After a pause, the man lies down beside him, fingers laced together behind his head, following Baldur’s gaze to the sky. “I do that, too. What’s got you wanting to fuck off out of this reality tonight?”

Baldur doesn’t answer.

Instead, he thinks for a long, long moment of silence, and then manages, “... I forgot your name.”

“Kauri,” The man answers readily, without offense. “That’s okay. I remember you said you’re called… Baldur, right?”

“My Sir… called me that.” Baldur blinks again, his eyes shutting with a clang in his mind like garage doors before opening back up again. The thought makes him smile. “I… don’t like it much. But there… isn’t any other.”

“Oh.” Kauri thinks that over. Then asks, “What do the guys you fuck call you?”

“... baby. Sweetheart. Sexy…”

“Yeah, I guess there’s only so many nicknames in bed. Do you want to be Baldur?”

“... no.”

“Oh. Then… you can pick your own new name, if you want.”

It takes a little while for the statement to work its way in. He hears the words but they don’t really land, just sort of flit around his head for a while trying to find a place to nest. He giggles at the thought, like pretty birds with wings chirping pick your own, your own, own new name, name you.

Kauri watches him, then exhales. There’s a fond sort of smile on his face, but it isn’t the kind of smile Baldur is used to seeing, one heavy with meaning. The kind of smile that comes before a hand on his ass or moving his head down where they want it. Baldur turns his head to look back. They’re inches apart. He’s probably supposed to kiss him, now.

But the pill makes it so he remembers that he doesn’t actually want to do that. It makes him so he can just lay here, and wait to be kissed or not kissed. It’s okay. Everything is okay, like this.

“Funny to see it from the outside,” Kauri murmurs, and then moves up on his elbows. “Hey. Listen. If you could call yourself anything else - not Baldur, or your number, just like anything else that you picked and you alone… what would you choose?”

Baldur blinks again. Lets the words settle, arrange themselves into something that makes sense. Then, he closes his eyes and drifts, almost asleep instantly as soon as he shuts himself away from the vision of the sky and the way the yellow-gold fading sunlight turns the hair of the man lying next to him to some kind of glimmering brilliance. “... -ris,” He mutters, the sound coming to mind without any thought.

“What?” Kauri pokes him in the nose, making him open his eyes with another giggle to see his confusion, which only makes Baldur laugh harder. “What’d you say? Did you say Chris?”

No.

But Baldur can’t say no, can he?

No, good boys only say yes.

“Yes,” He says, and puts his hands over his mouth to try and stop his giggles from escaping. He fails, and finds himself rubbing his feet one against the other even through his shoes, rolling from side to side. He thrills at the forbidden movements, something he can only do now, when his mind isn’t in control of him any longer, when the handler’s whispered demands and punishments aren’t the loudest thing he hears. 

“Oh, wow, you are gone,” Kauri says, a little enviously. “Well, damn. Man, and that was basically my plan tonight, too. That’s okay, though, nothing like playing babysitter to the world’s most beautiful park decoration for a few hours to make you appreciate sobriety, huh?”

Baldur’s laughter fades, replaced with a hazy frown. “... hours?”

“Right. Yeah. Cause the way you are right now, somebody’s going to murder you and you won’t even notice until like ten minutes after you’re dead. So I, being your self-declared fairy godmother of the evening, am going to keep an eye out and make sure this little Cinderella lives past midnight.”

Kauri pokes him in the nose again. 

“Got that, Chris?”

It sounds good, actually, that name. Baldur weighs it on his tongue. He mouths it, teeth close together and then opening, tongue moving. Chris. Chris. Chris.

“Chris-... Christopher,” He sounds out, slowly, thinking of a child’s movie he barely recalls, a teddy bear. “Christopher. But Chris.”

“Right. Once you sober up, I’ll get you something to eat and then I want you to go see a friend of mine. I think you could maybe use somewhere to crash for a while, and there’s a place I go - they don’t make you do anything, there. So I go there sometimes. There’s a shower and you can eat any of their food and nobody stops you. You’ll like it. How’s that sound?”

Baldur doesn’t hear anything Kauri says. He’s too busy sounding out the name he’s chosen inside his mind. But he knows from the way Kauri’s voice lilts up at the end that he’s been asked a question. So he just says, “Okay.”

“Great. So tell me more about the stars and shine on you crazy fucked-up diamond.”

Kauri lies back beside him, the side of his arm just barely touching Baldur’s, a warm touch grounding him to the earth without climbing on top of him or shoving a hand down his pants or telling him to shove his hand down someone else’s. Baldur lets his eyes close, and breathes in the cool air.

“A lot of the stars… are already dead. But, but we… still see them. Because the light, um, of dead… of the dead stars… still travels so, so far… and it takes so long… we see them shining… and, and they’re already gone…”

“Hm. I take it back. Talk to me about something less depressing than that.”

Baldur has to think for a long time to find something that fits. Then he offers, “I met�� a man over by the red diner… who carves little horses out of wood. He told me that he used to… work with wild mustangs, horses, a long… long time ago…”

“Perfect.” Kauri’s smile is brilliant, and Baldur is caught by the sight of it, staring for a long time in silence with wide eyes at the way it shines. Those blue eyes catch his, their heads turned towards each other. “Well? Keep talking.”

Baldur swallows, and then slowly nods, and tries to think of all the funny people he’s met since his Sir decided he needed replaced. He stammers, sometimes, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice or maybe just doesn’t care.

He doesn’t hear the handler’s voice in his head, either.

Not while Kauri is looking at him. For the first time since his Sir shoved him out of the car and drove away, he feels like someone cares.

[theknucklehead]

[dont-hug-me-aesthetics]

Kid Colin Aesthetic For Anon!

🧸 x x x 🧁🍬 x 🌈☀️ x x x 🧸