#tosses this like birdseed in the park

[theanoninyourinbox]

The Offensive/Defensive Roles in The New Longstar AU

The Brawler

Brawlers are those who hone their fighting abilities to their peak, but also their diplomatic skills as well.  A good Brawler knows how to end a fight before it starts, settling ruffled fur and sending both parties away mollified if not content.  But in a battle, the Brawlers are at the forefront of both offense and defense.  Working closely with Healers, they know just where to strike a cat to wound, cripple, or kill.  Brawlers are carefully watched by their leaders and clanmates for signs that they enjoy battles -too- much, for a bloodthirsty Brawler is a curse on their Clan.

The Hunters and The Trackers

Hunters are those who bring fresh prey to the camp, and Trackers are those who find the prey.  Many cats group these roles into one, and many a Hunter is also a Tracker, but there are some major differences.

Hunters do the killing of many kinds of prey, but they also clean and butcher their kills for ease of consumption and storage in Leafbare.  They are encouraged to take the prey apart (out of the sight of predatory birds and impressionable kits) to discover better ways to bring them down.  A great Hunter may know the difference between a sparrow and a finch by taste alone, how to bring down a squirrel without making a sound, and the proper way to pluck a rabbit so the fur is useable later.

A Tracker knows everything about the prey in their territory, and nearly as much about the dangerous predators lurking about.  They know the locations of every nest and each burrow, and which animal lives in each.  Their keen noses can pick up the scent of fox from far away, and their claws know just where to aim on a badger to send them reeling.

The Patroller

Patrollers keep the territory well marked and well mapped.  Each tree or rock or grassy knoll or riverbend is inspected with care, and when something drastic changes, the Patroller is there to find out -why-.  Often bringing Trackers or Brawlers with them, the casual observer may just see a hunting party, but Patrollers are there to see that their Clan, and their neighboring Clans, stay where they’re supposed to.

The Camp Guard

Camp Guards are the backbone of camp-keeping, the supply line that keeps everything both tidy and prepared for trouble.  They line nests with fresh moss and soft materials, either locating the materials themselves or getting Patrollers to find the best moss spots.  Camp Guards weave the den walls strong and keep the well maintained, repairing with clever paws and strong jaws.  They clear out the bones of old prey, and if ever a piece were to go bad, they bring that to the Herbalists for extra compost.  They’re the first line of defense in an attack on their Clan’s camp, and often learn some Brawler moves to supplement their training.

The Nursery Guard

Nursery Guards are sometimes interchangeable with Camp Guards, having many of the same duties, but specialize in kit-care and elder care.  They give badger rides to the squealing kits when the queens and kings are tired.  They clean elders of ticks and fleas when the cherished retirees can’t reach.  Nursery Guards train with Brawlers to better defend their charges, but also with Healers to spot any sign of illness before it becomes fatal.

The Warrior

A Warrior learns a little of all these roles, for a Warrior -is- all the roles.  They track and hunt; they stop fights with words and end fights with force; they patrol and guard camp and watch over the helpless.  To be a Warrior is to know many things, and keep them from being overwhelming to others, for an overworked Camp Guard may leave a wall too thin, a Tracker miss a hawk circling, or a Nursery Guard ignore a cough that becomes so much worse.  A Warrior is the ultimate role for many a cat, but there is no shame in specializing.

[halcyonwrld]

— SATIN RIBBONS

PAIRING. Park Chaeyoung/Rosé x Reader

Your morning routine is simple, peaceful. A quiet moment away from the drivel in the real world that inevitably awaits you. All it takes is one incidental encounter with the princess and her hyper puppy for things to change completely. (2K)

NOWPLAYING. Amy - Alexandre Desplat

TAGS. royal!au, mutual pining but roseanne is an obvious dork, self-indulgent fluff, typical helpless dog owner shenanigans, ft. lisa as roseanne’s personal maid who definitely needs a break

There is no better view than this one here, you decide.

Spring mornings are calm, quiet, and soft in every way. Standing in the gazebo as you do every morning, you look out into the pink and violet sky.

Just beyond the castle, a thick fog muddles the outline of the surrounding walls. The sun is so orange it looks to be drawn by a child. That saffron orange light gives a soft, dreamlike glow to everything in its reach.

Petrichor permeates the cool air. Dew from lastnights downpour slinks from the trees, coming down like drizzle in the gentle winds. Cattails along the rivers edge sway. Though the geese scattered along it remain unperturbed, suspended in time.

(That ethereal, rich light falls upon them in such a way that makes you wish you’d been a painter instead of a florist, if only to immortalize this moment forever.)

All you can do is appreciate it for what it is.

Opening the pouch on your hip, you take a handful of the birdseed inside, and toss them out into the river. Used to this routine, hardly any of the geese startle, simply drifting closer to eat.

Might as well join them.

You split open a golden-crusted loaf and lather on a thin layer of melted butter, mouth already salivating just from looking at the platter before you.

Birdsong whistles overhead as you set down your cutlery on the empty side of the dish.

You toss a bit more seeds into the river. They dapple the shimmering water, creating ripples that look like fully bloomed roses.

You’re about to gather your things and take a seat when you hear noise from below the gazebo, moving fast. The source doesn’t take long at all to reveal themselves. Hank skips up the stairs with a few excited barks. The terrier is nothing but a white and brown blur charging toward you, nails clicking all the way.

You smile as he reaches your feet, wanting to lean down to pet the pup but deciding against it. You still have to eat, and you’d rather not have a mouth full of dog hairs… no matter how cute said dog is at the moment.

“Hello to you too,” you mutter fondly.

Hank yips enthusiastically in return, spinning himself dizzy around your feet.

A few of the geese startle at the ruckus, lifting off from the foot of the gazebo and settling back closer to the empty bridge.

You shush the canine nonsensically, only seeming to make his frenzy worse. His wet snout tickles your ankles. Searching. You shake your head in amusement when he seems to settle just enough to look up at you with those expectant, glittering eyes.

“Sit still, boy..”

Hank obliges without you needing to ask twice, though his tail thumping against the mahongany planks doesn’t quite seem to get the memo. The puppy stares up at you with big guileless eyes and a panting smile that tells you he's never had to beg for a thing in his life.

You give in with a long, dramatic sigh, and a defeated fine you win. You rip off a small chunk of sausage from your platter to share with the canine. “Spoiled little thing, aren’t you? Always causing trouble these days..” 

Hank takes it gently between his crooked teeth, and it’s only after you’ve pulled away to eat some yourself do you realize you’re a part of the problem as much as anyone else. Spoiled mouths hardly ever feed themselves.

Hardwood creaks as someone else steps into the gazebo, causing you to turn.

You both pause as soon as you lock eyes, dumbstruck by each other’s presence.

Princess Roseanne.

The woman looks absolutely radiant in the morning sun. Light frames her soft edges. She’s like a walking daydream. Closer to angel, than mortal. Pink hair rollers wrapped in her blonde locks. Nose tinted pink. Satin bunched between her pale fingers to hold up the frills of her nightgown. Robe falling off of one of her sun-kissed shoulders.

You think you’d do anything she’d asked of you, if only to forever bask in the fond recognition that overcomes her face after her shock settles.

“Morning, your highness,” you greet, slightly bowing in courtesy.

Her smile falters. She gives you a look.

It takes you a moment to understand, but when you do, you immediately bow again in apology, face becoming far too hot for so early in the day. “Sorry sorry, still a habit.”

You straighten up and try again, “Good morning, Rosie. Lovely to see you out bright and early on such a beautiful day.”

Roseanne smiles, and just like that, all is forgiven. “It’s nice to see you too, petal.”

She finally takes in the scene. The full plate and mug on the railing, Hank sitting patiently at your feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a pant.

“Here he is… thought I’d heard him making a fuss over here! I’m so sorry about him, he has a frantic mind of his own in the mornings, I swear." She briefly bends to smooth down the wild fur around his eyes with an exasperated look, "One second he’s playing with the butterflies and next thing I know he’s halfway to the bridge…”

“He’s just lucky he’s as cute as his owner,” you say unthinkingly. There's little time to retract the statement because the moment Roseanne looks down —unable to hide behind the curtains of her hair like she tends to— you know you've said something right.

She turns away, but you catch the reddening apples of her cheeks before she can get too far. An overwhelming amount of fondness blooms across your chest.

You’re still biting back a smile when her stomach grumbles.

“Want to share?”

Roseanne looks over, still flustered from your last comment. You offer a good chunk of your loaf. The tension eases as she gives you a grateful smile.

Finally, you take a bite of your own food, buttery goodness melting on your tongue.

“So, have you—”

“Is this why—”

You both stop short, glancing at each other with secret smiles.

“You first,” she says, beating you to it.

You hum thoughtfully, picking up your mug filled to the brim with fresh spring water. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Ah, no.” She confirms your suspicions as you take a long swig, covering her mouth to speak around her bread. You give her a stern look, making her laugh. “Your concern is sweet, but I was planning to, swear! Hankie has been sick for the past few days and he finally wanted some fresh air, couldn’t pass up the opportunity, you know?”

“I see..” you murmur. “In any case, I’m glad he’s feeling better then. And please have a real meal after you’re back inside the castle. Picking berries off of my plate surely can't be fulfilling in any sense.”

Her blush deepens at being caught red-handed, but you just laugh, lightly bumping your shoulders together. “Now, your turn."

“Ah- this,” she gestures to your setup along the gazebo railing, a hint of mirth in her tone, “is why I’ve never seen you during breakfast? You’re out and about making friends with the local wildlife?”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Nothing like that, no. Just… another one of those habits I can’t seem to shake, I suppose you could say.” You look over the railing into the water. A few geese glide across the river in search of birdseed. “I don’t garden for the mere motivation of wage. Nature is just where I’ve always felt most at peace. And so, my days tend to be far more productive the sooner I can get outside and simply,,, take a moment to breathe.”

When you look over, Roseanne stares at you like you’ve just given the most interesting spiel in the entire universe, with that fond quirk to her lips.

You offer a nervous smile in return, “If I may ask… why the inquiry? Has someone asked for me?”

The princess looks away to tear off another chunk of her bread, meek as she is hopeful when she asks, “Does it count if I’m asking you now?”

You can’t help the way your smile widens, finding her madly endearing. “I suppose so, princess."

Roseanne doesn't quite fluster this time, but you swear you've never seen her face so red since the first time you introduced yourself to her.

(She'd kissed your knuckles like you were more than the head of gardening staff, said your dedication in the months you'd been serving had really shown… then minutes later she tumbled into a roseberry bush full of thorns. That was how you met Lisa, too, who couldn't hold her giggles when you retold the story while plucking the twigs out of her hair.)

Roseanne even opens her mouth to retort, but is stopped by a shrill voice in the distance.

It takes another few times for either of you to realize it’s nothing dangerous, and that they’re calling for the princess herself.

Who rubs the back of her nape with a sheepish smile, “Ah right, I’m not supposed to be out here quite yet..”

One look at her attire —feet bare and draped in delicates— and surely anyone could’ve guessed that.

You notice movement on the bridge.

Not even a few moments later, Roseanne’s name rings into the air, clearer than ever.

“I take it that’s your maiden?” you ask knowingly, failing to keep your laughter out of your words. Lisa has never been known for her subtlety.

Roseanne blanches, “Shoot.”

In a rush, she gathers up her satin drapes all over again, pink pins wobbling atop her head but no worse for wear when she stops abruptly in her departure, spinning to face you once more. “I won’t ask you to stifle away in the castle… but maybe, we could come back tomorrow?” she asks, smile shy, eyes glittering.

You open your mouth, but she cuts you off.

“If it's okay with you, of course,” she tacks on as an afterthought, genuine as ever for someone of her status. You tilt your head, as if there was ever really anything to think over. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Roseanne smiles as bright as the sun, blinding you with her beauty.

You're only pulled out of your daze by the clink of cultery, and you by the time you realize what she's doing, she's already got your empty mug and platter in hand.

You frown, stepping forward. "Oh no, I couldn't ask you to-"

She steps back. Brandishes another one of those disarming grins that makes your heart flutter. "Please, we're headed back to the castle anyway. No need for you to waste your energy on a second trip back over the bridge."

You sigh.

"Fine… but, next time I'll walk with you. Alright?"

Roseanne nods, smile seeming to widen if anything.

“Come on, boy, we have to go now." Hank perks up at the tone shift, happy to finally be addressed. “Say bye Hankie!"

Hank barks as if he really understands the princess, making you chuckle.

You wave them off, watching them leave the gazebo.

Roseanne meets her maiden halfway. Lisa promptly snags an arm around her shoulders, mouth running a mile a minute as she tells the princess off, equal parts exasperated as she is playful. Hank zips toward the bridge. You catch word about Roseanne’s lack of shoewear, her bundled hair, and… a patch of dandelions?

You can't make out much more as they get too far out. But you were sure you'd figure it out eventually, as it was literally your job to oversee all of the plant life around here.

Oh well, nothing to fuss over as of now.

You toss the last of your birdseed, and the geese are eager to reform back near you with Hank's ruckus. The princess and her maiden follow the cobblestone path back down the river. Their figures become smaller and smaller amongst the green grass and the pink, hazy sky.

Just a little before they reach the bridge, Roseanne looks back, and you both share one last secret smile.

[finitehearts]

Better Together - Nanami x gn reader

Things may not always go smoothly, but they always seem to be better when Nanami is with you. | Written as a secret santa gift for @bas-writes Dec 2023. It was such a joy to write this, I love writing Nanami, and love feeding your Nanamin needs <3 Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 1.1k words | nanami x gender neutral reader | soft fluff | ao3 link

Nanami sighed. Today, it seemed an unnamed force was here to try to spoil the day. He should have just taken the day off entirely once he got the unfortunate news: his favorite bakery didn’t have the pastries he usually picked. Some mix up had caused them to be short of the crucial ingredients. At the suggestion of the baker, he had picked some substitutes, but the weight of the pastries in the bag felt odd in his grasp as he walked to the park to meet you.

He definitely should have seen it coming when there was a strange couple sitting at his usual bench, oblivious to the fact they had stolen his seat. It had practically been worn down to perfectly match your ass prints from when you two sat together there. Didn’t they know it was rude to steal someone else’s bench? Although it wasn’t really yours or his, it was public property.

But still, who else came to this part of the park so early in the morning? It was in a secluded area, but with few routes in and out. It was rare to be disturbed here, since it was away from the busy main areas, making it the perfect place for you two to go on a date. Though come to think of it, the seclusion was likely what drew the couple in as well.

There was a bench a few meters away if he wanted to stay in the same area, but it was perched at the wrong angle and he hated to sit on it, let alone have some company besides you and the birds, so he would have to find another bench elsewhere.

The next best choice of benches was far less superior, but it was still on the quiet end of the park, where the birds wouldn’t be spooked while you fed them. With a quick text sent to you explaining the unfortunate situation, he settled down and waited for you.

It wasn’t long until he spotted you wandering along the path, trying to decipher his directions on your phone and holding a carrier with drinks in your free hand. He stood and lifted a hand, calling out to you, “Y/N!”

You looked around, searching for the source of his voice until you made eye contact, and smiled as you came over to join him. However, you gave him a quizzical look as you sat down together and traded drinks and food.

“Kento, what did your text mean? ‘Our previous arrangement for our date has gone awry. Head northwest of our usual spot, I have found other tolerable arrangements in the meantime.’”

“First, the bakery didn’t have our buns. Then, someone was using our bench. So, I had to find another.”

“This bench is just as good,” You snorted softly and took a taste of the substitute pastry. “Mm, tastes good! Have you tried it yet?” He shook his head but pulled his out to try. Meanwhile, you pulled your bag of birdseed from your bag and started scattering it. Although the pigeons seemed surprised to find you both in a different spot than usual, it only took them a bit longer than usual to gather and start pecking at the food.

Nanami took a bite of the wrong pastry and—you were right, it was delicious, the baker had recommended him well—one pigeon in particular caught his eye. It was larger and fluffier than any of the others, and was ignoring the bird feed, instead eyeing the pastry in his hands. Nanami took a handful of seed and tossed it in front of him, before taking another bite. It pecked at the seed a little before staring back at him, tilting its little head. In his haste to find a new bench, he had forgotten his most important rule: eat before you feed the birds.

“This isn’t for you,” Nanami pointed out to him. “I just gave you perfectly good seed.”

The pigeon waddled forward, unimpressed by the offering or his words.

“This has no nutritional value for you.” He sipped his coffee and furrowed his brow a little. The shameless pigeon fluttered its wings and landed in his lap, eyes on its intended prize in his hands. You froze and stared, then started laughing as he held his food up and away from this little creature.

“You’re as shameless as Gojo.” Nanami shook his head and reached into the bag, offering some seed out in the palm of his hand and shoved the last of the pastry in his mouth.

The pigeon tilted its head back and forth several times, as if accusing him of the highest crimes of not sharing, then finally acquiesced, pecking at the offered seed. Nanami chuckled softly then tossed the last of the seed to the ground, and the pigeon fluttered after the appropriate food.

“Kento, you should have told me!” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I didn’t know you were a Disney princess.” You laughed and teased. He softly shook his head but couldn’t hide his small smile as he sipped on his coffee.

A small rustle caught his attention, and anything he might have had to say had to wait a moment. Nanami set down his coffee and rose with a soft groan, carefully creeping forward and snatching a piece of plastic from the same large pigeon’s beak. Trust a bird to be curious if something small and shiny was edible.

“This isn’t edible either,” he scolded, tucking the trash into his pocket and rose with another groan, sounding much older than he actually was. He straightened and brushed off his coat, tidying any wrinkles that felt wrong, until he realized he felt your eyes on him.

“Educating the pigeons, hm?”

“Pigeons are little dumbasses.” He maintained. “They don’t realize what they can and can’t eat, just peck at anything that seems to be an edible size.”

You smiled and rose to stand by him, watching the birds peck through the grass at your feet.

“You’re a cutie, you know.”

Nanami felt his cheeks heat up, grateful to hide behind his sunglasses and cursing his Danish genes. “Is that so?”

“It is.” You leaned in close and pecked the tip of his nose, causing his cheeks to redden even further.

He cleared his throat to try and collect himself and ducked around to grab the bag of seed. He took your hands and poured some seed into them, and some into his own. Together, you scattered the last of the seed, watching the birds flutter at your feet. It seemed that perhaps today was not ruined. Things were always good when he was with you.

[poisonedapples]

tosses this at you like im scattering birdseed at the park

Fkshdkshdkahska Existence is temporary, knee pain is forever 😔👊

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

A Burning Secret

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Characters: Bowser Jr, Rosalina, Luma, Bowser Relationship: Bowser Jr & Rosalina, Bowser Jr & Luma, Bowser Jr & Bowser, Bowser & Rosalina Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Almost half a year after the universe was reborn, Bowser Junior lets Rosalina in on a secret. Word Count: 1,995 words A/N: Inspired by this post!

[AO3 Link]

~~~

Rosalina’s afternoon was proving to be peaceful so far.

Shortly after lunch, she’d taken to walking in a nearby park with one of her Lumas as company, enjoying the time before she needed to get ready for the next scheduled kart race. She’d run into Mario and Peach, who’d evidently had a similar idea. Mario had even given her a spare bag of birdseed before they’d parted, which she was sitting on a bench near an empty playground and using now to feed an eclectic variety of local birds.

Or at least she had been doing that, until a green and yellow blur sped into the cluster of gathered birds with a yell, sending them all squawking and flapping their wings to flee, which likewise sent her Luma into a giggle fit. When Rosalina lowered her arms after the cacophony had ended, someone was standing in the middle of the space the birds just left, laughing triumphantly about their departure.

“Bowser Junior, was it?” Rosalina asked, and he turned to grin broadly at her.

“Yeah, that’s me!” He puffed up his chest, looking every inch his father’s son. “Prince Bowser Junior! Hey, you’re that Star Lady from space!”

“Princess Rosalina,” she corrected, but Bowser Junior was only half-listening, looking for more birds to scare.

His search, despite bearing little fruit after the ruckus he’d caused earlier, only extended a certain distance away from Rosalina’s bench. “Dad got lost,” he told Rosalina when she asked why that was, “and this is where I’m supposed to wait for him if either of us gets lost.”

“...I see.”

Bored with searching for birds, Bowser Junior cambered onto the bench next to Rosalina. Eventually, now that everything was still, some birds came back to eat the remaining birdseed on the ground. Rosalina tossed them some more to snack on.

Floating above them, their Luma companion mused about the birds they were feeding, and how tiny and insignificant their lives were. Like theirs, it supposed, small stitches in the vast fabric of the universe. Stitches that affected the fabric the most when cut. It giggled. “Ah, to have my string cut someday...” it mused, bobbing and twirling in the air. “To leave behind a void that will never be the same, even if it’s filled...”

“Cut...like dying?” Bowser Junior furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Of course! The string of fate, sliced clean by the blades of the unturnable~!”

“...You’re weird,” Bowser Junior said. The Luma giggled again.

Rosalina’s eyes slid from the regrowing crowd of birds to the child sitting next to her. She considered giving him her bag of birdseed, so he could have a go at feeding the birds and perhaps deem that a better way to interact with them than scaring them off, but he looked too deep in thought to be bothered. And sure, almost half this planet’s orbit ago he had been a whole lot of trouble as part of Bowser’s attempt to take over the universe, but that was more his father, not him. Which was why she felt the need to ask him if there was something wrong. “Sorry about my Luma,” she added, thinking something it said had upset him. “Its demeanor can be...off-putting to most.”

Said Luma pouted at her. Bowser Junior huffed a laugh. But he still looked rather troubled for someone so young, fiddling with his bandanna and staring off into the distance. Rosalina decided not to push him, being patient. And that patience paid off, as with a final look between her and her Luma, he asked, “Can I tell you a secret?” in a small voice.

The Luma floated toward him, curiously. Rosalina leaned in, subtly.

“I died once,” Bowser Junior quietly told them.

“You did?!” The Luma gasped, an outward echo of Rosalina’s own surprise that exchanged her muted horror for amazed delight.

“Shh!” Bowser Junior covered its mouth, looking around furtively. “Quiet! It’s a secret!”

Whatever the Luma wanted to say next was muffled under Bowser Junior’s hands. “When?!” it asked when Bowser Junior removed them, obediently dropping its voice to a hushed whisper.

“Uh...a couple months ago, I think?”

Ah, Rosalina thought. “That supernova...you were sucked in by its black hole.”

“Huh? Black hole...?” Bowser Junior looked confused, as if he had no idea of the event that almost had the entire universe destroyed, despite being near the epicenter of it. But his face quickly cleared, and he shook his head. Rosalina’s stomach sank. It was something else...?

“What was it like, what was it like?!” the Luma asked, vibrating in excitement.

“Um.” Bowser Junior backed away from the Luma’s enthusiasm, bumping into Rosalina. Looking down at him in concern, she was about to tell him he absolutely did not have to indulge the Luma’s curiosity in the slightest, but then he took a breath and began speaking, each word carefully considered.

“I fell,” he began, frowning. The Luma leaned forward in anticipation. “And the ship fell, too. And then...and then...” His voice trailed off.

“You don't have to discuss it,” Rosalina interrupted firmly, with a stern glance at her Luma. “Not if the memories are too much to bear for you.”

But to her surprise, her words had the opposite intended effect; Bowser Junior’s vulnerable expression was joined by a stubborn glint in his eye, and he barreled on.

“I fell and it got hot,” he said in a rush. “And bright,” he added. “And really hot. And then...” The resolve faded. He searched for what to say next. He swallowed, thickly. “I woke up,” he finished simply, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

Though his description was vague, the Luma practically had stars in its eyes hearing it. “...Did it hurt?” it breathed, enraptured.

“.........Yeah.”

“Woah...”

“I’m sorry,” Rosalina said, heart heavy.

“It's okay, I think...you didn't do anything,” Bowser Junior reassured her, as if that wasn't the entire problem with this situation. But she'd been too far away to even see most of what was going on in Bowser’s galaxy back then, let alone do anything to help. And there was no way Mario and Peach knew either, Rosalina realized abruptly, though they'd been closer to the action. They'd be beating themselves up about it endlessly if they did. But what about — ?

“Does your father know?”

“No!” Wide-eyed, Bowser Junior grabbed at her dress. “Don't tell him! Or he won't let me go fight Mario with him anymore...! He already barely lets me help, now...!”

...She should probably tell his father. But Bowser Junior had started tearing up some, so...

“Alright, I won't tell,” Rosalina promised. Bowser Junior sighed in relief. “But,” she continued, “only as long as you promise to tell your family about what happened soon.”

“Yes, you should tell them!” the Luma cheered, twirling around the pair. “The knowledge of what's after death! It deserves to be treasured and shared~!”

“...You’re weird,” Bowser Junior told the Luma, but there was the faintest of smiles on his face as he wiped at his cheeks. “Okay,” he said next, and Rosalina gave him a starbit to munch on for it. And then a couple more when he started pestering her for them, and then a few more after that.

Not long after, Bowser walked down the path towards them, face pinched in worry and clearly in search of his son. “Dad!” Bowser Junior exclaimed, hopping off the bench and running up to meet him.

“There you are!” Bowser knelt to ruffle his son’s hair. “Didn't I tell you to stay with me so you wouldn't get lost?”

“I wasn't lost,” Bowser Junior grumbled. “You’re the one that disappeared.”

Bowser chuckled indulgently. But then Bowser Junior’s exasperated expression became overshadowed by uncertainty, and Bowser’s grin dimmed to match. “What’s up, son?” Bowser asked, voice softening.

“Um,” Bowser Junior said, and then quieted. His eyes flicked to the ground, to his father, to the Luma who had floated into his periphery, to a different spot on the ground. He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Bowser bent down further to better meet his son’s eyes. “You sure?”

Bowser Junior nodded.

“Oh.” Bowser straightened, putting a hand on Bowser Junior’s shoulder. “Okay. Uh, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know!” Bowser Junior chirped. He smiled at Bowser, small yet light. “Maybe later. I’m going to go play over there now.” he pointed at the nearby playground.

Though he still looked worried, Bowser met his son’s smile with his own, similarly warm. “Go for it,” he said. “Just don't wander off again, yeah?”

“You wandered off,” Bowser Junior insisted with a sigh. Nonetheless, he ran to the playground. The Luma followed him, sprinkling stardust as it floated about his head, stardust that caused Bowser Junior to sneeze. The Luma laughed, and when Bowser Junior began chasing it around in indignation for doing so it flew off to a hiding place underneath the slide with a wide grin. Bowser watched them go with a thoughtful look, but he seemed to accept his son’s new friend in the end.

But then he noticed his son’s new friend’s guardian, and he flinched at her cool stare. Rosalina kept it up even as he worked up the nerve to say something, perhaps because their charges were getting along mere yards away.

“So, uh.” He tried to meet her eyes. He didn't succeed. “He didn't bother you too much, did he...?”

“...He was fine,” Rosalina replied tersely. Bowser huffed at her answer.

“No, he was definitely a handful," he said. "He’s always a handful.”

Despite the complaint, he sounded fond. Rosalina understood that feeling intimately. So she decided to throw him a bone. “No more than any of my Lumas can be,” she offered, and Bowser laughed a little, relaxing slightly.

“Yeah, I guess you’d know about that.” He grinned at her like she was just a fellow parent, and not like he was the monster who had attacked her home, scared her children, and almost destroyed the universe months prior. There was really no reason he couldn't be both, Rosalina mused. But as a fellow parent, Rosalina should probably tell Bowser something about what his son had told her. She’d promised not to, though, so she didn’t. Instead, “After the universe was reborn,” she said, “how did your son fare?”

Bowser looked surprised at the question. “He, uh, fared fine. He’s lucky he didn't get hurt, from what I heard. Though” — Bowser frowned — “there’ve been nightmares. And some art. Of vents or somethin’, I dunno; he won't let me see any of it. Don't blame him, though; I shouldn't have lost track of him near the end of all that. ” Bowser’s face twisted into something guilty. “Gonna be keeping a better eye on him from now on, for sure,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking off in the direction of the playground, where the Luma was cheering as Bowser Junior scaled the jungle gym. “We’ll get through this, and then I’m not losing him like that ever again.”

Rosalina hummed. She hadn't been sure about what Bowser’s answer would be, but the one she heard at least assured her that Bowser Junior was in good hands, and would continue to be so after he fulfilled his end of their promise.

“Dad!” Bowser Junior called from atop the jungle gym. When Bowser didn't move within milliseconds, he called for him again. And again. And —

“Alright, alright, I'm coming!” Bowser yelled back, amused. Without a second glance to Rosalina he ambled toward the playground with large steps. When Bowser Junior shouted at him to hurry up, Bowser smirked and all but stopped moving. He laughed at the resulting groaning about it, grin widening as said groaning turned into laughter of its own. As he walked further away, Rosalina tuned out the rest of his and his son’s exchange. With one eye kept on the playground, Rosalina sat back and resumed feeding her birds.

[metfell]

i toss out posts for my mutuals to reblog during hysteria hour like an old woman feeding pigeons birdseed in central park

[gemscales-and-tea]

It was Wally's tendency to get absorbed in his own little world when by himself and this is no exception. He doesn't notice much, just smiling to himself and tossing seed to the birds from the sack that is beside him. Every once in a while, he'll kick his legs back and forth in order to let out any extra energy. It was nice here. Calm, bright and easy... Wally liked that.

At some point, he does catch the sound of voices but not what is being said. Almost absently, the puppet lifts his head and looks... spotting two canines, one big and small. Oh! Well, it was a park so it stood to reason parents would bring their little ones here.

Wally enjoyed being around children, hence why he had accepted the role in his show. Kids were fun, creative and so genuine. Easier than adults who overcomplicated everything.

Tossing the birdseed in his hand down to the ground, he proceeds to lift the same hand and give a little wave in their direction.

It was a lovely day to go to the park. Thus, Bandit had taken his youngest daughter, Bingo, there to play. While Bluey and mum were at home having some mom and daughter time. Bingo didn't mind being with dad though, because he was so silly!

The two were headed towards a plastic climbing set, but Bingo noticed a very familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. It was Wally from 'Welcome Home'! A few pups in Bingo's Kindy classed talked about the show. And ever since, Bingo adored the puppet show.

"Dad, dad!" Bingo tried to whisper, though it was more of a 'loud' whisper so to speak. One of her cream-colored paws pointed at the man whom was feeding some birds.

"Huh? What's up kiddo?" Bandit asked his daughter, noticing that Bingo was staring wide-eyed at another park goer.

"Dad, that's Wally Darling" the young canine whispered, her voice high pitch in excitement. In the moment, Bingo felt like she had run into a celebrity. Then she let out a couple enlivened squeals. "Dad, dad, we gotta talk to 'im!" Begged the little girl, tugging on Bandit's paw. But, her parent wasn't moving.

"I dunno mate, he probably just wants to enjoy the park" said the older Blue Heeler, trying to let his little girl down gently.

[yourpaceangel]

divine by loving

[Read on AO3]

It begins, on some sunny morning just weeks after the world was supposed to end, with a vase of flowers and a note. The lilacs are stunning, surrounded by baby’s breath and something green Aziraphale doesn’t remember the name of but looks lovely nonetheless. They’re the one bright spot amongst the dust motes and lazy spill of sunlight through half slotted blinds. A folded piece of paper, sealed with wax, sits beneath the vase and Aziraphale opens it as carefully as he can. Inside Crowley’s sprawling, carefully messy handwriting takes up only a small portion of the thick paper. 

“My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you--“

He’s smudged the ink over the word ‘love’ like he couldn’t resist running a thumb over the word before the ink had dried. Aziraphale’s finger brushes over it and his lips pull into a smile. He puts the note down and has the phone cradled in his hand before he’s thought about what he’s doing.

Crowley, remarkably, picks up on the second ring.

“Hello dear,” Aziraphale says, looking at the lilacs, “I was wondering if you might want to get some lunch?”

*

Summer nudges its way into fall the way it has a tendency to do. The mornings grow crisp, sun coming into the sky later and leaving it earlier. The trees in St. James’ Park turn a multitude of spectacular colors. Vibrant purples, striking orange, muted gold. Aziraphale likes taking their walks in the early evening, before the sun has had time to set, after the heat of the day has already been bundled off and sent to bed. They walk, hand clasped in hand, down set paths with no real intention of going anywhere.

It’s nice. To finally be allowed this, to finally have the time.

“Robin,” Aziraphale says, pointing up at the sweet little redbreast hiding amongst the leaves. He’s always liked bird watching, and Crowley does too, though he sometimes complains that it leaves him feeling a little hungry afterward.

“Goldfinch,” Crowley echoes, gesturing with his head toward a bush.

They wind around the duck pond, stopping momentarily so Aziraphale can toss a handful of birdseed in their direction before starting off again. Overhead the sky turns a brilliant orange, clouds a cotton candy sugar pink spun thin and high above the trees. A bird arcs overhead, striking dark against the light. 

“Blackbird.” Aziraphale says and Crowley looks up.

“Wonder if there are enough to make a pie.”

“Hush,” Aziraphale squeezes his hand.

Crowley’s thumb dances over the back of Aziraphale’s hand, rubbing absently at the skin there. “Dove,” Crowley says after a long silence.

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley’s thumb stops rubbing and he pauses, thrown for a moment, before bursting into laughter. He points up into a tree at two doves, pressed close together. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, feeling his cheeks heat.

Crowley tugs him toward a bench, under the nearby tree. “Would you like that?” He asks, “Names like that?”

“Crowley, don’t make fun--”

“I’m not!” He sits down, taking up half of the bench by himself. “I’m not, angel, I swear.” He takes both of Aziraphale’s hands with his own. “I just...I didn’t know you’d go for that, really.”

“I wouldn’t normally,” Aziraphale says, shuffling his feet, still standing, “it’s different when it’s you.”

Crowley’s lips form a little ‘o’, his eyebrows scrunching together like he’s thinking. “Angel,” He says, and this time it sounds deliberate. “Dove.” He kisses the back of one hand-- “Sunshine.” --and then the other. “My everything.” He tugs, so Aziraphale will bend down to kiss him and Aziraphale does, their noses bumping together briefly. He tugs again and Aziraphale falls willingly, resting his weight on Crowley’s lap, hands entwined. Crowley’s mouth tastes faintly like a burnt match might, but Aziraphale doesn’t mind it in the slightest. He opens his lips to let Crowley’s tongue touch his, a spark of heat at his core. “My one,” Crowley says against his mouth, breathless, “my only, my l--” He makes a sound like it hurts, like he’s bitten the inside of his mouth.

“Darling,” Aziraphale says, “dearest, starshine, my heart, my love.”

“Oh,” Crowley says and squeezes his hands, “Yes. Yes.”

They’re pressed so close now, cheek to cheek and chest to chest. It takes an age to separate themselves from one another. Long after the moon makes its way warm and full over the treeline, long after the stars began to show themselves, hazy balls of light so very far away.

*

Crowley makes himself comfy in Aziraphale’s reading chair, long limbs sprawled in odd directions in a way that shouldn’t be comfortable and certainly doesn’t look to be. He holds a glass of wine delicately in one hand, cradling the bottom of it like one would a newborn child. He looks good, pleasantly buzzed already, the tips of his ears a charming pink and his cheeks flushed. “I’m just saying,” Crowley says, gesturing with his other hand, his foot bouncing in the air, “I’m just-- what was I saying?”

Aziraphale laughs. He’s pleasantly drunk himself, his cheeks and the tip of his nose hot. “Roses?”

Crowley snaps his fingers and points at him. “Roses!” He declares, “Rotten for romance. Smell atrocious, all covered in thorns. Now the orchid, that’s-- that’s a fine flower.”

“Mm.”

“No bloody thorns on--” he takes a sip of his wine, nearly spilling it over his chin in his haste to continue talking, “No thorns on a good orchid. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Aziraphale is tickled just watching him. The over exaggerated swing of his leg, the slump of his shoulders, the gentle flush of his face. Crowley puts down his wine glass, like he’s made a statement, crossing his arms over his lithe chest. Aziraphale doesn’t try to fight the smile that blooms across his mouth. “So you wouldn’t get me any?”

“Any what?”

“Roses,” Aziraphale says, teasing, “You wouldn’t get me any roses? Even if I asked?” 

Crowley’s wild foot smashes into the end table and nearly sends his glasses and wine glass flying in his haste to sit up straight. “If you asked?” His eyes go wide, luminous. “Angel, I would get you the moon if you asked. Don’t you know?”

“Hm?”

Crowley opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He furrows his brows, looking bewildered. He opens his mouth again and then shuts it. “Come here,” He growls, reaching out a hand. 

Aziraphale sets down his wine and goes.

The next morning there are orchids on his vanity, pale blue, like they’ve always been there.

*

Crowley opens the door of the Bentley for him. He looks dashing in a smart black suit, deep blood red shirt and black tie. His boots are so red they almost look black and Aziraphale wonders for a moment if they just look like snake skin or if Crowley has just taken to forming his feet to look like shoes. “Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale says, kissing Crowley’s cheek as he gets into the car. He smooths a hand over his own grey suit, fiddling with the snake eye cufflinks as Crowley slides on the other side.

The Bentley roars to life, music spilling from its speakers almost immediately. Something soft and so sweet it makes Aziraphale rest his hand on Crowley’s knee and squeeze. “But touch my tears with your lips, touch my world with your fingertips, and we can have forever, and we can love forever.” Crowley peels out, cutting off two cars and scaring a flock of pigeons into flight, but his hand when he rests it atop Aziraphale’s is gentle.

“You have the tickets, of course?” Aziraphale asks, closing his eyes when Crowley drives over a curb to skip a roundabout and several cars blare their horns in fear and confusion.

“Course I do,” Crowley says happily, swinging wildly around a curve.

Aziraphale inhales sharply, digging his nails into Crowley’s knee, hearing Crowley’s answering laugh. “You could at least pretend to care about traffic laws.”

“What would I want to do that for?”

“Crowley--” 

The Bentley slows considerably and Aziraphale feels Crowley pat the top of his hand. “You can open your eyes.” He sounds too amused for his own good. 

Aziraphale peels one eye open and then the other, breathing out a relieved sigh. “Really, my love, it’s like you enjoy nearly giving me a heart attack every time we go somewhere.” 

“Now you’re getting it,” Crowley says brightly. He pulls up outside the Royal Opera House. Cars aren’t meant to be parked here, but Aziraphale knows when they leave later there won’t be a parking ticket in sight. Crowley gives his hand a little squeeze and gets out first to open the door for him, offering his hand.

Aziraphale finds himself a little short of breath, if he’s honest. The light flashes off of Crowley’s feather cufflinks and Aziraphale smiles, taking his hand, letting himself be pulled up. Crowley guides him inside with a steady hand at the small of his back. He takes their tickets from his suit jacket, and Aziraphale barely makes out Orph…& Eur… from under Crowley’s thumb.

“Orpheus & Eurydice?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley hums the affirmative. “Something new,” He explains and then frowns, “Unless you’d prefer--?”

“No, no. New is-- new can be good.”

“It’s not too late,” Crowley stops, letting people walk around them, “There’s a showing of Carmen tonight as well, and there’s always Tosca.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale reaches up to cup his face, fingers tracing briefly over the edge of his glasses, “It will be lovely, I’m sure.”

Crowley leans into him, blowing out a breath. “Just want to treat you right, angel.”

“You spoil me darling,” Aziraphale assures, pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of his mouth, his heart swelling in his chest, “You really do.”

“Deserve to be spoiled,” Crowley mumbles, clearing his throat and straightening back up, “Well, shall we?”

Aziraphale links their arms together, patting Crowley’s bicep. “After you.”

*

It’s a bad day. Winter has creeped its way into the bones of the bookshop and the little flat upstairs, shiny blades of ice clinging to the streets and windows. The cold makes Aziraphale’s leg ache, an ancient wound that shouldn’t bother him in his corporeal form but does nonetheless when the wind outside turns biting and brittle and brutal in it’s coldness. He lights the fireplace and leaves the space heater on but nothing seems to be able to chase the chill from the rooms. 

Crowley is insufferable like this. He whines, he snaps, he sneers. He’s a snake through and through and nothing Aziraphale does is good enough.

“Let’s go away,” Crowley mutters, stomping around the bedroom in his silk pajamas and bundled in a thick wool blanket. “Let’s just go away.”

“Where?” Aziraphale snaps. He’s cold enough, sore enough, irritated enough that he can’t stop himself. “Alpha Centauri?” The way he says it does not come out nice.

Crowley freezes, shooting him a withering look. It’s enough of a sore spot that he goes back to bed, pulling the blankets back over himself. 

“Really now,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley is blessedly, dreadfully silent.

“You’re being childish, Crowley.”

The blanket lump does not move.

“I’m going down to the shop,” Aziraphale sniffs. He does not slam the door shut behind himself, but only just barely. 

The shop is colder than the flat and if anything it worsens his mood. He makes himself tea from the electric kettle in the back room and then promptly forgets about it, finding stacks of books to straighten and reshelve. He opens the blinds in the shop and then closes them again upon seeing the dismal, dreary gray streaked streets outside. He flops into his reading chair and massages his leg.

Upstairs he can hear the bump and thump of Crowley moving around, and then the shuffle of his feet on the stairs as he comes down into the shop. He’s still bundled in that blanket, cranky eyed and frowning, but he makes his way over to Aziraphale and settles himself into his lap.

Aziraphale starts at the feeling of ice cold fingers dipping under his jumper and he grabs them, bringing the hands up to his face. He breathes warm air over cool skin, rubs life into the fingers with his palms. Crowley sags against him, the fight draining out of the both of them at once. Crowley wiggles his hands free so he can knead Aziraphale’s leg, gently working the muscles around the sore spot. Aziraphale sighs against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says, hands digging into the blanket around Crowley’s shoulders to wrap around them both. “I’m having a bad day.”

“Me too.” Crowley says. 

Aziraphale cradles Crowley’s face in his hands, brushing his nose over his temple before kissing his forehead.

Crowley’s hands dig a little harder into his leg. “Angel, I--” He takes a shaking breath and then shakes his head a little, “Nothing.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale says, running a thumb over Crowley’s cheekbone. 

“Yeah,” Crowley says, his eyes a little wet, “that.”

*

“ I couldn’t utter my love when it counted. Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now. And I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted. Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now.”

Aziraphale follows the music to his kitchen. Crowley humming along in the early morning light filtering in through gossamer white curtains, his hands steady and sure as he chops vegetables and moves them into the pan. He’s bare except for a pair of boxers slung low on his hips. Aziraphale almost wants to lecture him on the dangers of cooking without proper clothes but instead has to  lean against the doorframe to steady himself. There’s a gathering of scales at the small of Crowley’s back that glimmer like an oil slick in the soft sunlight, another little patch trailing up his neck and behind his ear. Aziraphale knows if he got a good look at the soles of Crowley’s feet he would have a delightful little patch of scales there as well. He’s enamored with the edges where pale skin meets smooth dark scale and has to hold onto his own hands to stop himself from touching.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley starts, turning around. “I didn’t know you were up,” He says, cheeks pink, scratching at the back of his head. “I was going to bring you breakfast.”

“I heard music,” Aziraphale smiles, “I heard you singing.”

“Ah,” Crowley’s cheeks darken and he clears his throat, turning back around to add eggs to the pan. “That.”

Aziraphale can’t stand not touching him. He presses his chest to Crowley’s back and hugs his waist, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “Yes,” he agrees, kissing Crowley’s shoulder, “that.”

Crowley is quiet for a time. The kind of peaceful, relaxed quiet that means he’s just enjoying being in the moment. Aziraphale kisses those glittering scales behind his ears and smiles when Crowley shivers. “Pest,” Crowley hisses with no real bite. He smacks Aziraphale’s hand with his spatula. “If you’re going to be in here you might as well be useful. Set the table?”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale squeezes his waist, places a kiss to his bare shoulder, and goes.

*

The moonlight dripping in from the frost covered windows is gossamer soft, kissing sweetly over pale skin and dark scales, whispering across dark hair and eyelashes. Aziraphale watches him from across the room, propped against the doorframe as he is, reading glasses slipping down his nose and book in hand. Crowley sleeps rather a lot in the winter, and Aziraphale likes to watch him sleep. 

There’s something vulnerable about Crowley in sleep. Awake he’s all coiled muscle and perpetual movement. Drumming fingers, thumping foot, taps of pens against the table. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3. He is confident and cocky, headstrong, headsure, steadfast. He’s a barely concealed grin, a bubble of laughter, the wink of an eye. Asleep he is none of those things. Crowley asleep is something heartbreaking, heartbroken; fragile like the hollow bones of his wings. And trusting. Aziraphale knows he’s the only being alive that’s ever seen Crowley like this, fidgety hands finally still against the pillowcase, face unlined and unworried. 

Aziraphale crosses the room and sits by him, smoothes the fringe back from his forehead with a gentle touch. Crowley rouses beneath him, just a little. “‘Ziraphale?” He mumbles, barely opens his eyes before he’s closing them again. Trusting and so very sweet.

“Yes, starshine,” Aziraphale says, “Just me. You can stay there.”

Crowley curves toward him like he’s magnetized, the way he has done every night since their first together. He feels a barely there kiss to his hip, Crowley’s face pressed against his leg and arm sliding up over his lap. “Like it here.” He mumbles, “Warm.”

Aziraphale hums and scratches at his scalp, drawing a hoarse groan from his love’s throat. Smiling, forgetting his book temporarily, he slips down until their nose to nose, sharing breath. Crowley cracks an eye at him. Smothers his own fond smile by pressing his mouth against Aziraphale’s.

Privately, Aziraphale thinks Crowley’s sleep soaked kisses are the sweetest ones. Not that he’d ever tell him that. 

“Darling?” Aziraphale asks, breaking away. 

Crowley hums in question, nosing along his jaw, his neck, finding where his pulse beats a wild rabbit pace against his skin and applies his lips and tongue. 

Aziraphale shudders and tightens his hand in Crowley’s hair. “Focus, please.”

Crowley makes a rather fetching noise at that but obeys, picking his head back up to look at Aziraphale. He’s lovely like this too. Cheeks pink, eyes hazy with sleep and a little something more, lips red from kissing and sucking and biting. 

“I brought a book with me,” Aziraphale says, “thought you might like to read it?”

“To you?” Crowley asks, sleepy soft and kiss dazed. “Give it here.”

Aziraphale passes him the book and they curl together, Crowley’s head on Aziraphale’s chest. 

Voice soft, honey soaked with warmth and grand affection, Crowley began to read. “The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden...”

*

Spring comes in a bloom of flowers and sun scented air. There’s a carpet of wildflowers rolling past as Crowley drives them further into the countryside. They have no real destination planned, just the two of them and all the time in the world. The radio plays soft and sweet in the background. “You’ve captured my love, stolen my heart…” Aziraphale turns his head to watch Crowley. His face is relaxed, lax, a gentle smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Aziraphale squeezes his hand.

Crowley looks good like this, soft in the mid-morning light streaming in through the window as they pass fields of rolling green. Crowley brings their combined hands up and kisses the back of Aziraphale’s, his lips soft and warm against the back of his hand. 

Aziraphale scoots as close as his safety belt will allow. 

“We should stop to see Anathema and Newton,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley hums in acknowledgement, kissing Aziraphale’s hand once more before setting it back down. They’d already been heading in the direction of  Lower Tadsfield. Crowley points the Bentley in the direction of Anathema’s cottage.

“It might be nice to bring them something, as well,” Aziraphale says, “that’s the thing to do, isn’t it? Bring someone a gift when you visit.”

“There’s a bottle of wine in the backseat.” 

“Oh! Yes, that will be lovely.”

Crowley nods, his thumb rubbing circles against Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale leans over to kiss his shoulder, lips against dark linen. “Then maybe we can go see the children. Wouldn’t that be nice, Crowley?” 

“Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley says, a little strained, a little breathless, “We can do whatever you want.” 

*

Sunlight filters through the new leaves of young spring trees, breaking across the red tartan blanket that Crowley had rolled his eyes at but packed fondly along with the tan wicker basket. Aziraphale isn’t ashamed to admit he took his time planning this picnic. Deviled eggs, finger sandwiches, a lovely little charcuterie board from the darling Italian deli in Soho, fresh bread from Flor, jam from the market in Tadfield, scotch eggs and wine and tea in a thermos that matched the blanket. And lastly a beautiful angel food cake that Crowley had made a cheery noise at and tried to keep for himself. 

Crowley is spread out flat in the grass just a little bit away, soaking up the sun like, well, something cold blooded basking upon a rock. Music drifts between the two of them from Crowley’s phone, something smooth and slow and earthy. It’s all a bit romantic really. Aziraphale pops the last deviled egg in his mouth and hums, sucking the remains off his thumb. 

“Crowley?”

Crowley turns toward him, smiles. 

Two days ago Crowley had left a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in butcher paper on the counter of his bookshop and a scribbled note about how beautiful the weather was to be over the weekend and they really ought to travel to the country more. Crowley frankly had all the subtlety of a fox in a hen house. 

“Need something, angel?” Crowley asks. 

An errant ant makes away with a crumb left over from the cake, empty plate glinting in the late afternoon sun. The wind curls along the grass and through Crowley’s hair like fingers. Aziraphale almost loathes to ask it, Crowley looks so comfortable; but he is weak and a little selfish. 

“Come here?” 

Crowley’s smile shifts into something soft, softer. “‘Course.” He falls into Aziraphale’s waiting arms and tugs him in close until Aziraphale is half laying on him on top of the picnic blanket. “Close enough?”

No, Aziraphale thinks, lips pressed to Crowley’s throat, never. If they shared a body maybe, maybe, but maybe not even then. “Yes,” Aziraphale says instead, “thank you, dear.”

“Don’t have to thank me,” Crowley mumbles, face buried in Aziraphale’s hair, “not for this.”

The wind ripples past, tickling the edge of his trousers, the edge of his coat catching and flapping. The grassy hill smells sweet but Crowley’s skin is sweeter pressed as it is under Aziraphale’s nose. He tangles his hand in Crowley’s waistcoat, just holding. 

Crowley hums, boneless and lax beneath him, hands skimming and skipping over clothed skin and nothing at all. Wandering, wondering. Aziraphale catches a hand as it flies past and brings it to his mouth, pressing fleeting kisses to lily white knuckles and a calloused palm. 

Music drifts over them sweetly, soft and cosy as a blanket. Aziraphale can’t remember the artists name but he likes it, ethereal and earthy and heady. Crowley makes a soft noise and nudges at him. 

“Dance with me, I like this song.” 

Hardly a request Aziraphale could ever turn down. Aziraphale pulls them both up to standing, Crowley keeping their hands tangled as they sway together. 

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale breathes. 

Crowley shivers against him. “Yeah,” he mumbles, and tilts his head down for a kiss. 

*

There’s a note stuck to the mirror of his vanity, as there has been every morning since Crowley started staying the night. 

Manila yellow with a painstakingly inaccurate little rose on the bottom it reads “But here we are and something about it doesn’t feel like an accident. /  We’re all looking for something to adore / and how to survive the bending and breaking.” 

Aziraphale takes it down with dove-light fingers, mouth a wobbly thing as he cradles the note in his hands. 

In the top drawer of his vanity sits a box, an engraved silver case older than even his bookshop. Aziraphale opens it and places the note inside, atop the other notes, the many dried flowers, his ring from the sixteenth century, the pearls from the necklace he’d worn to Queen Elizabeth I’s coronation. A box much bigger on the inside than it seemed from the outside. 

He runs his finger over a molted black feather before shutting the case and locking the drawer, his heart too big for his chest. 

*

Aziraphale wakes up in his reading chair to Crowley tugging gently at his ear. “You’re getting old,” Crowley teases, grinning. 

“‘M not.” Aziraphale grumbles, batting Crowley’s hand away. 

“You are.” Crowley’s hand brushes his cheek, the curve of his jaw. “Sleeping in your reading chair like an old man.”

“Quiet, you.” Aziraphale says. He grabs Crowley’s dancing hands out of the air and tugs until he has the demon fully seated in his lap. Aziraphale noses at Crowley’s exposed neck, pressing a line of sharp kisses along the skin from jaw to collar bone. Crowley really does have lovely collar bones. 

Crowley squirms. “No, angel, come on I have a surprise.”

“Hm.” Aziraphale bites down on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Ah- angel.” Crowley protests, trying and failing to sound cross. 

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale says, soothing the bite with a kiss, “show me your surprise then.”

Crowley clambers out of Aziraphale’s lap and tugs until they’re both standing. He leads him upstairs, hands tangled, nudging open the door to Aziraphale’s flat with his foot. In the middle of the room is a claw foot tub, steam curling up in ribbons from the water. A low table nearby has a glass and bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. Sinatra is playing from the record table in the corner, “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for all I worship and adore. In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathes, his eyes wide. 

“Surprise,” Crowley teases, squeezing his hand. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale says again, “This is- you-“ 

There are times when Crowley smiles that Aziraphale thinks ‘I could not love you any more than I do now or I would overflow with it.’ This is one of those times. Crowley, smiling, soft and fond and teasing. The kind of smile you give someone you’ve loved your whole life. The kind of smile that comes from knowing and being known. 

Aziraphale blinks, a little misty eyed, and draws Crowley against him for a kiss. Tastes all the love curled up there at the corners of Crowley’s mouth greedily, his hands caressing and touching where he can. He doesn’t pull away until Crowley is sufficiently weak kneed and pink cheeked, and even then he only draws back enough to knock their foreheads together. 

“Marry me,” Aziraphale breathes. 

Crowley breathes in sharply, eyes impossibly wide, and Aziraphale fears for a moment he might have made a mistake. Then Crowley clings to him,  hands digging sharply into his waistcoat, and says, “Yes.” He sounds hoarse, like the thought has robbed him of all his air. “Yes.”

And that smile. There is nothing, not in Heaven or Hell or on Earth, as dear to Aziraphale as that smile. And he falls in love all over again.

[badassbutterfly1987]

Day 14: Duck, Thomas + Inari

Inari had, rather out of nowhere, asked Thomas to take her to the park.

Technically, Thomas isn’t allowed to go far from the estate without supervision after his recent failed escape attempt but Inari had thrown a fit until she got her way. Natalia accompanies them but keeps a fair distance behind. It’s unnecessary; he knows the consequences if he runs.

So, off they go to the park. Thomas holds his 8-year-old sister’s right hand. In her left is a bag of birdseed.

Inari pulls him along until they reach a bridge overlooking a duck pond. She hands him the bag.

“To feed the ducks,” she explains.

“I thought they ate bread,” Thomas says even as he takes the bag.

Inari shakes her head sharply, eyes wide in alarm. “Bread makes their stomachs explode!”

Thomas isn’t sure about how accurate that is but doesn’t know enough to correct her. He tosses a small handful of birdseed into the pond. The ducks quack happily and feed.

“Why am I feeding ducks?”

“You’ve been sad recently. Ducks are happy birds so feeding them should make you happy too.” Inari sits at the bridge’s edge and swings her legs.

She looks so innocent, so human that for a moment Thomas feels like his heart will break. He wants to confess everything: that they’re a family of monsters, what their father does to his children, what Inari is destined to become.

But he remembers his father’s nails digging into his skin, warning him exactly what would happen if he decided to reveal the family secret to Inari early. The thought makes his stomach turn. There is no place safe from their father.

Thomas pulls his baby sister more firmly against his side which makes her giggle. They feed the ducks. It is enough, for now.

[xandertheundead]

Jealous Mike for Stanlon? I never see jealous Mike!

Sure thing, Anon! Here you go!

Mike had never really been the jealous type. 

Sure, when he was little and he’d seen other kids have something that he wished he could have he felt a small pang, but nothing as ugly as jealousy.

Nothing he truly cared about was ever in a situation where he felt those bitter ugly feelings well up in him. His dog, his parents, his grandfather even his favorite BB gun his dad had gotten him when he was little, he’d never had to worry about someone else having them because they were Mike’s and everyone knew that.

Stanley Uris however, wasn’t his and he wished more than ever that the boy was.

That’s why when he saw Stacy Briggs talking to Stan in the hall he felt something painful and awful rise up in his chest.

Bev had heard that Stacy Briggs wanted to ask Stan to the homecoming dance and Mike watched as she laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t being very subtle and Mike had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when she reached out to gently push at his arm.

When Stan laughed at something she said Mike couldn’t help it, he let the word slip out from his mouth before he could even think about it.

“Bitch.”

“Who’s a bitch?”

Mike jumped when Richie slung an arm around his shoulder, moving his head around to see who Mike could be talking about. Immediately Mike felt shame rise up, his cheeks going red as he quickly shook his head at Richie’s question. He was being rude and unfair, all Stacy did was like the same guy he did and that wasn’t a reason to call her that.

“No one, Richie.” Mike said with a sigh and he could tell Richie didn’t buy it, but luckily he didn’t ask anymore questions.

“So, you ready to ask Stan-the-Man to homecoming?”

Mike gulped, watching the way Stacy moved a little closer to Stan, suddenly the tickets to the bird exhibit were burning a hole in his pocket. He had invited Stan to the bird exhibit, saying no one else wanted to go with him and Stan had quickly agreed to go with him, never even questioned why Mike bought two tickets before knowing how many people were going. The losers had helped paint the sign, it was now folded up neatly and carefully in his backpack and Mike took took a deep breath as Stan glanced to the side from his conversation with Stacy.

Their eyes met and the smile that moved over Stan’s face made Mike’s legs feel weak.

They both watched as Stan turned to Stacy and said something, her smile dimming a little when he said something but she nodded and waved as he started jogging towards them.

“Hey guys.” He said a little breathless and Mike just wanted to hug him. “Mike I just have to get my chemistry textbook from my locker and we can head out.”

“Uh, yeah. Hello!” Richie called before Mike could respond. “What am I chopped liver?”

Stan rolled his eyes, but his mood didn’t seem to sour in the slightest. “Yeah. Hi, Richie.”

“That’s more like it.” Richie replied, removing his arm from Mike’s shoulder a tossing them a wave. “Alright. You nerds go and enjoy your bird date, I’m going to find my sexy Spaghetti.”

“It’s not a date!” Both Stan and Mike sputtered, and they both looked at each other with their cheeks red.

“So,” Mike started and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Should we go get that text book?”

Soon they were in Mike’s truck, he had meticulously cleaned and vacuumed it out the night before, and headed for the zoo. Stan even commented on the little air freshener Mike had gone out to buy specifically for the trip. Fresh lemon in the shape of a small bluebird that could clip to his air conditioning and Stan loved it which made Mike beam with pride.

When they had parked, got in to the zoo and found the exhibit, Mike’s palms were starting to sweat. As they waiting in line for their ticket to be checked he started wondering if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It would put Stan on the spot in front of others and what if he really didn’t want to go with Mike like that, 

This was a bad idea. A huge mistake.

They made their way into the area where hundreds of parakeets flew around freely and the way Stan looked as the flew over him was just amazing. He pointed to every different color parakeet he saw, telling Mike why their colors differed and when Mike bought two long popsicle sticks covered in bird seed he thought Stan’s mind was about to explode when a small yellow parakeet landed on his arm to take a nibble.

“This is amazing.” Stan whispered, watching as the bird hopped to his hand so it could start to eat the birdseed on the stick. “Seriously, Mike. Thank you for asking me to come.”

“O-of course.” Mike choked out and they both watched as the bird finished it’s meal and flew back into the branches. “Um, so Stan I wanted to ask you something.”

“Wait.” Stan said suddenly, looking up at him suddenly so serious. “I have to ask you something first.”

“Okay?”

Stan licked his lips, glancing down at the floor before taking a big breath in and letting it out slowly. “So, you probably heard the rumors about Stacy and homecoming.”

Mike’s gut twisted and he started to feel chilled. “Uh, yeah I did.”

“Right.” Stan nodded and then grimaced. “So, I’m sorry if this makes me look like an absolute bastard but you kind of already knew I was one.”

Oh god. Did Stan know? Was Stan rejecting him before Mike could even ask? 

Mike hated that he felt like he was about to cry and when Stan took Mike’s hand in his Mike could feel his eyes start to sting.

“Mike, will you go to homecoming with me?”

Mike blinked. His world came to a screeching halt as his brain had to restart and rewind because he had missed something very important.

“Wait...what?” Mike replied quietly, then started to gain his voice back ashe let his thoughts tumble from his mouth.. “I’m confused. Why are you a bastard for asking me? Why are you asking me and talking about the rumor with Stacy? Did Stacy ask you already? I heard she wasn’t going to ask till Friday.”

Then Stan looked confused as well and he dropped Mike’s hand to gold his arms over his chest, a look that was seriously hot but Mike couldn’t enjoy it right now. He had things to figure out.

“Why would Stacy ask me when she is planning to ask you?”

Mike had no idea why but he suddenly burst out laughing. “What?! Why would she ask me? Bev told me she wanted to ask you.”

Stan shook his head quickly. “Why would she? We only have one class together, you're the varsity football Quarterback and she's the head cheerleader.”

“S-so?!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Mike, anybody would be nuts not to want to be with you. You’re on the football team, you have amazing grades, you sweet as fuck and you look like some GQ model.”

“What’s GQ?”

Stan waved his hand in the air like he was trying to wave Mike’s question away. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m being a fucking asshole and sniping you from her before she has a chance even though she just trusted me not to tell you when she asked what your favorite cookies were.”

Mike stared wide eyed at Stan quietly, Stan’s face becoming red as a tomato when he realized something and had to look away. “I mean...if you want because...I’d really like to go with you. I really like you.”

Mike couldn’t stop the large grin from spreading on his face and instead of answering, he moved to set his backpack on the ground and opened it up. Carefully he pulled out the hand painted poster, handing it over to Stan, smiling as he unfolded it and read it.

Stan’s face was priceless and he looked up at Mike in shock before it slowly started to turn into a smile.

“You were going to ask me?”

“Yep.”

“So I just betrayed a nice girl when you were going to ask me anyway.”

Mike gave a small shrug. “If it makes you feel any better, I called her a bitch when I saw she made you laugh.”

Stan then started to laugh and Mike couldn’t help it anymore, he pulled Stan to him and held him tightly, happy when Stan held him back.

“Yes,” Mike whispered into the dark brown curls. “I’ll go with you.”

“And I you, Mike.”

Send Me A Prompt!

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[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #12: Slippery

“Now, you wanna be watching your step here,” Stubby advised Ritz. The rain sluiced down around them, making the smooth bricks of the walkway they were strolling down slippery. “The concrete and the asphalt, they’ve got a lot of bumps, so you’ve got something you can hook your talons into if you’ve gotta, and the water drains away. But this kind of ground, you can slip and fall on your butt.”

“So why don’t we just fly it?” Ritz asked, fluffing his tailfeathers as he scampered after Stubby.

Stubby turned her head and looked at him with one disapproving eye. “You wanna fly in this shit?” She waved a wing at the rain. “’Cause I don’t. That’s the whole point to what we’re doing here.”

“Well, I don’t wanna slip and fall on my butt.”

“So be careful,” Stubby suggested, in a tone that strongly implied that Ritz was an unbelievable dumbass. “Look, there’s grass. You don’t have to watch out for the human feet so much when you cut across the grass.”

“There any food in the grass? I’ve been looking and looking and I haven’t seen any on this slippery stuff.”

“Sometimes there is. Usually other pigeons got to it already, though.”

“I’m hungry. There anything good to eat where we’re going?”

“You bet your booty.”

The two pigeons crossed the green patch and out onto the sidewalk. They dodged easily through the feet of New York City pedestrians, and avoided the puddles as they wove their way toward the shadowy hole in the sidewalk, with detours to make sure that glittery thing or this irregularly shaped thing was absolutely and for certain not a thing that was pigeon-edible. Very little was.

As soon as they reached the shadowy hole, Ritz could see that there were steps leading down into it. Stubby hopped down to the first step, then the second. She turned and glanced back at Ritz. “What’re you waiting for, your mama to tell you go ahead? Come on!”

“That was mean,” Ritz said, hopping down the first step. “You know my mama’s dead.”

Stubby sighed. “That ain’t news, Ritz. Half the pigeons in this city’re orphans.”

“And I think I have claustrophobia. I don’t like it down here.”

“You know who else doesn’t like it down here? Fuckin’ cats. So get your fluffy tail down here.”

Ritz bobbed his head this way and that, nervously. This was not his favorite activity. Stairs he didn’t mind, though these were unusually slippery, but the idea of voluntarily going into a hole in the ground didn’t appeal at all. “There gonna be any room for us to fly down there?”

“You don’t go in the subway to fly, dumbass,” Stubby said.

“No, but what if we need to? Like some human is trying to grab us or something?”

“Yeah, there’s enough room for that. Now will you quit flappin’ your beak and follow me already?”

So Ritz followed the older pigeon, reluctantly. There were plenty of humans coming down the stairs, and going up the stairs, and milling around in general. One of them lost a French fry. It was in Ritz’s beak almost before the human realized he’d dropped it.

Stubby turned her head, checking to see if Ritz was still following. “Oh man! You got a French fry?”

“I’m not sharing,” Ritz mumbled through a full beak.

“Come on, Ritz. I’m showin’ you the ropes and teachin’ you how to be a city pigeon, least you could do is share the French fry.”

“Too late,” Ritz said, stuffing the last of it down his beak. It wasn’t a very large French fry, anyway. “If I see another one I’ll let you have it.”

“Yeah, well, if I see another one I won’t let you have it, asshole,” Stubby snapped. “Now come on. There’s a train coming!”

Ritz followed Stubby. They queued up on the platform, out of the way of the humans. “Wait for it,” Stubby said, as the train pulled into the station. “You gotta wait for whoever’s getting off to get off first.”

The doors slid open, and several humans came out. Before any humans went in, Stubby hopped in, followed by Ritz. “Now we go sit under the seats.”

“There gonna be any food in here?”

“Maybe. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Sadly, no one dropped any food on the subway car. Ritz did find a piece of gum, but Stubby advised him not to eat it. “That thing’s gross. It’s been in a human’s mouth. Those things carry disease.”

“Are you sure?”

“Also, it’s not even food. It’s glue. I knew a cock who knew a hen who ate one of those things and it got stuck in her crop and she starved to death. Couldn’t even get food past her throat.”

“Uhh… okay.”

Three stops later, and Stubby strolled over to the doors. “Come on, Ritz, this is our stop.”

“There gonna be food here?”

“I already told ya.”

Back up the slippery stairs, across the grass, and…

“Hey! This is Central Park!”

“Yeah, numbskull. You couldn’t tell?”

“I’m not good with directions,” Ritz confessed.

“Wow, you fail at pigeon,” Stubby remarked.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t have the whole damn city memorized yet,” Ritz snapped. “I’ve only been out of the nest for a few months.”

“Come on,” Stubby said. “This way. I know where this lady comes out every day and puts out birdseed.”

“It’s raining.”

“Yeah, but I bet she’ll have come out and scattered the birdseed anyway. She’s pretty predictable. And when it rains, most of the other pigeons don’t wanna come out and eat it.”

Stubby took to the air, flying the short distance to the bench where her favorite old lady came out, rain or shine, to toss seed to pigeons, and Ritz followed her. Her weirdly short tail feathers looked odd as she flew, and made her wobble a little in the air, but she made it to the bench well enough.

“Jackpot!” she called to Ritz. “Come on over here!”

Ritz hastily landed. There was birdseed scattered all through the wet grass. His poor empty stomach howled in delighted anticipation, and he began the hunt-and-peck every pigeon lived by, stuffing his beak full of seeds.

----------------------------------------------

I’m planning on using Stubby, Ritz and another pigeon who doesn’t appear in this ficlet, Pennifer the ex-racer, in a children’s book, where they will be considerably less fowl-mouthed. :-) 

[sammyspreadyourwings]

A weirdly out of season prompt (I don’t think it was prompted in February either), but hey. There aren’t any rules here! It’s a little less wacky than the prompt suggests, but I like it!

Circa Modern Era

Roger loves Brian with his entire being, but he’s not exactly thrilled that they started dating March. It means they’ve been together near a year, and haven’t had a single Valentine’s Day yet. The expectations are incredibly high for something Roger doesn’t exactly care about. He isn’t heartless the think-pieces about love and romantic movies do strike a chord with him, Roger just doesn’t get the point of having to buy his significant other a chocolate diamond every year.

“Deaks?”

“Yeah?”

Roger wipes the grease from his palms, “where’d you take Ronnie for your first Valentine’s?”

“Taking Bri out?”

“Something like that, it wasn’t too decked out with the hearts, right? Just a special on wine?”

John stands up and tosses a dirty rag at him, “romance is alive and well with you Rog.”

“Oh, come on, Bri doesn’t care to be romanced. He’d be just as happy freezing his ass off staring at stars.”

“With you,” John replies.

“What?”

The bassist looks guilty but sighs, “Bri’s never had a proper Valentine’s.”

“So?”

“Right, of course he wouldn’t say anything to you. It’s not like you two have been insufferably in love this entire year.”

Roger frowns, curiosity and nerves pricking at the back of his neck, “what’s wrong with Bri?”

“You haven’t noticed? How upset he gets around this time? Come on Roger, he never has a partner for holiday season.”

He doesn’t want to admit he’s noticed the partner thing. Mostly because that’s how they got together in the first place, a spike of jealousy and too much wine. Roger knows Brian has never said anything to him about it.

“Listen, I know you hate it and the tacky hearts, but try to make this one special for Bri? He’s special to you, right?”

Roger nods mostly distracted because checked his watch and noticed Brian is going to be home in five minutes. John looks at the clock and rolls his eyes.

“Be the Casanova you claim to be for one day,” John sets the tool kit aside, “if nothing else, the sex should be fun.”

He sticks his tongue out and closes the hood of the van. The leak can’t be fixed until they get proper sealant but everything is cleaned now.

“Roger? John?”

Roger grins and pushes past John to the back yard. Brian is leaning against the door frame to their flat. He’s bundled up still, and Roger sighs happily when he sees Brian has taken his scarf again today. John gags behind him.

“Hello, Bri.”

Brian kisses him on the cheek in greeting, “hello.” “How was your day?”

“Good. Fix the van?”

“Not yet.”

John moves through him and he shoots Roger a glance in reminder.

“Uh, Bri?”

“Hm?”

Roger inhales, John said to be a Casanova, he can suck it up for a night. Especially if it makes Brian happy. God, he’s whipped and thrilled to be so.

“Did you want to make Valentine’s Day a Thing? I know it’s a full two weeks away, and a Wednesday.”

Brian lights up. He’s going to have to buy John coffee for the next month.

“You want to?”

“I want to spend it with you.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

It isn’t a lie, because it’ll surprise him too what he comes up with. Brian gives him an excited peck on the cheek.

“You know, I’ve never had a proper Valentine’s Day.”

Roger smiles and hopes it doesn’t show his worry, “low standards then. Excellent.”

Brian raises an eyebrow.

“Which means I get to wow you so hard that you’ll never want to have a Valentine’s date with anyone else.”

Nice save, Roger!

~

Brian has class until eleven on Valentine’s Day. Roger glances at the clock and sees that it’s a quarter past. He’s already dressed, and his hair styled. His present is hidden in the bag he’ll be talking with them. Everything is planned. John double-checked his reservations.

Roger’s hands won’t stop sweating and he debates yanking down the taking heart decorations Freddie helped him hang up. It’s too late to salvage the goo-stickers on the window. The door opens and Roger inhales sharply. He had told Brian to be ready to go when he got back.

“Roger?”

“In here!”

Brian turns the corner and his face softens at the pink and red mess Roger made of their living room. Freddie had claimed that their streamer fight had made things feel organic. Roger smiles as Brian approaches, then blushes when the guitarist pulls off a strand of confetti.

“There is nothing more romantic than you doing chores.”

“Oh, the day is still young! You’ll be in love with me forever after today.”

“Bold words.”

“Good planning.”

Brian laughs and kisses him on the lips.

“Ready?”

“Am I dressed okay?”

Roger looks Brian up and down. He’s wearing a short-sleeve button-up, dark blue with dots all over it and a pair of dark pants. The clogs aren’t exactly sexy, but Roger finds that he can let them go this one time. Besides, he’ll get to test the claim that clogs are the best walking shoe.

“Yeah.”

With that he leads Brian out of the house onto his Valentine Day extraordinaire. Roger hadn’t been able to pick out one thing, wanting Brian to experience everything, so they start with a picnic at their favorite spot at the park. As predicted, Brian stares at the ducks longingly.

“I’ve got actual birdseed,” Roger digs in the basket, “y’know to feed them because of your whole bread rant.”

Roger smiles at the kiss he earns in reward. Even if he regrets giving Brian the seed because now they’re going to be surrounded by ducks, geese, swans, and other nasty birds. Brian is happy and that’s the goal for today.

Once the seed bag is half empty and the rest of his badly made lunch (okay some of the sandwiches got soggy because he didn’t think about how long they’d have the condiments on them and the tea thermos spilled out) eaten, Roger takes Brian on a long romantic walk through a nearby flower garden. Brian takes several pictures, regular and with that stereo 3-D app thingy, Roger indulges him with smiles. Then Brian demands that they get a selfie in front of the rose bridge.

He’s pretty sure the smile hasn’t left Bri’s lips.

By the time the garden walk has ended, they exit perfectly in front of one of Brian’s favorite pastry shops. It’s packed with last-minute gift-buyers, but their table is in the back thanks to Freddie reminding him that this was going to happen. The clerk waves them in, and minutes later the pastries at tea are set in front of them.

The icing is ungodly bright red, and there are too many hearts. Brian doesn’t seem to mind, taking photos of them and then sneaking pictures when he thinks Roger doesn’t notice.

“Not done yet?”

“Are you irreversibly in love with me yet?”

Brian hums and bites down on a biscuit, “not quite.”

“Then there’s more to do.”

Another walk, this time along the river. Plotted so that Roger walks by the flower vendor he ordered from earlier. The true bouquet is on their nightstand at the flat, but it’s Brian’s final surprise of the night, but for now he hands Brian the solitary rose.

Someone in the distance mutters about him being cheap, but Brian holds it like he would a star.

Their river walk takes them by the shore, where Brian once more gets to feed the various urban birds. He gives the seeds to two little girls who have taken to Brian’s animal factoids as though he’s telling them he’s one of those cartoon princesses. Roger blinks.

Loves animals? Check. Pretty? Check. Amazing singing voice? Check. In love with a handsome prince? Check.

“Oh my god, you’re a Disney princess.”

Brian gives him a bemused smile, “uh, thanks?”

Roger smiles and grabs his hand, “more to do!”

They finish the walk by Roger’s restaurant of choice. Lowkey and not very “love” themed but they have a decent salad and couples eat half off today. Besides the folksy feeling of the building is far removed from London’s usual bustle. He knows he made the right choice when Brian reaches over and laces their hands together.

“Three more things.”

Brian laughs, “Rog, you didn’t need to do all of this. I’d been happy with anyone thing from your list.”

“You’re my songbird,” Roger looks down at their entwined hands, “I wanted to do all of this.”

He’s having fun, but it’s more because Brian looks so incredibly happy. His face must hurt from smiling so much.

Dinner is a quiet affair, both chatting aimlessly about everything. Every couple here seems to be wanting to wax poetic about their partner, and Roger doesn’t know what it says about him that when Brian tangles their legs together, he nearly melts. They leave the restaurant hand in hand, it’s cooled significantly now that the sun is fully away. Brian’s eyes are predictably drawn to the heavens.

Roger wonders what it’d be like to love something you can never touch. Brian flicks his eyes down and softens, and Roger decides he doesn’t want to love something he can’t hold. He swings their hands as they take a short walk to the spot.

It’s absolutely ridiculous what Roger is doing.

“Roger?”

The building is the studio Tim and Brian had rented out for Smile auditions all those years ago. Where this truly started. Roger tilts his head towards the door.

“It’s closed.”

“I made a call. Tim still knows the guy who owns it.”

“Wow, you broke your vow of silence to Tim for me?”

“Impressed?”

“Getting there.”

Roger tugs him and they enter the building. The owner, an older gentleman who was part of the Free Love movement in America, nods at them. Brian follows him up the steps to the room. It’s set up like it was that day. Drums in the corner and the Red Special opposite. Brian tenses when he sees her.

“I know. Freddie stayed with her until just a few minutes ago,” Roger says, “see?”

Brian reads the texts and relaxes. As if Roger would willingly risk that guitar. He likes having his balls, thank you, and more importantly he likes having Brian.

Like a well-rehearsed dance Brian picks up the Old Lady and Roger sits behind the drums. They tune their instruments in silence, the old kit can’t hold the sound he wants, but it’s close enough. Brian nods at him and Roger counts in before starting a rolling rhythm. They play with each other, urging the other to compensate for a change in the music. It’s a constant give and take.

Playing with Freddie and John makes their music better, but Roger can’t deny that thrill that runs through him when it’s just him and Brian. The Start.

Eventually they have to take a break, Roger sweaty and Brian getting that familiar tick that means his hand is about to cramp. Roger bends down to slip the box into his pocket before wandering over to his love. Brian offers his hand and Roger automatically begins to massage out the strain.

He takes a deep breath. The mood is right. Brian’s got that smile on him that means he’s completely content. Roger has done everything perfectly.

“This is when you propose, right?”

Roger wishes the noise he made was a little suaver. He’d done everything perfectly, until now.

“I swear to God if you say you were going to as well.”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to ask?”

“I have a speech dammit.”

“Are you sure drumming is for you? I think you have a career as a poet or maybe a marriage counselor.”

“Brian,” Roger whines, “let me propose!”

“Sheesh, all you had to do was ask.”

“Brian!”

The guitarist smiles indulgently, but the little exchange has eased out any tension he has in his body.

“If I had known walking in here that day would lead me on the most fantastic adventure, I don’t think I would have bitched once about the auditions being so far our and at such an inconvenient time.”

Roger inhales, “because I walked in here and was greeted by a musical poodle with a complex.”

Brian snorts.

“And somehow, I fell in love with you, Brian May. The way you love your stars, with all that endless passion and curiosity and simple want? That’s how I love you.”

“So, considering I know this is it for me,” Roger slides down onto his knee, cheering when he doesn’t drop the box, “I was wondering if I was it for you? Brian May, will you marry me?”

“Do I need to give you a speech?”

“My ego could use it.”

“If I had known that the first person we auditioned that day would be the only, I can’t say as though I would’ve come. But had I known it would be you, the man I am irrevocably in love with? I’d come at 4 in the morning.”

“A steep sacrifice.”

“I let you finish!”

Roger smiles.

“There aren’t enough words to describe how I feel for you. It’s like we’re in a binary star system, tangled permanently together by forces we can’t explain and frankly I’m okay with this mystery. So yes, I will marry you.”

He pulls off the lid of the box. A ring had been far too traditional for him, not to mention the fear of it getting lost while they’re on tour. Instead he holds out a singular silver chain. Blue and white crystals are spread sporadically all leading down into a quarter note with a diamond as the note head.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.”

Roger stands and Brian turns so that Roger can clasp the necklace. It disappears under Brian’s shirt, the barest glimmer peeking out. They kiss. Slow and methodical (not at all what Roger used to crave in kissing). When the break apart Brian keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“What’s the third surprise?”

“Ah, yeah,” Roger laughs, “either a very long and overdue session of lovemaking or you can stare at the bouquet I bought you all night.”

[skyblue-ringpops]

some fluffy three's the day pls?

Central Park - Three’s The Day (Modern Era) It’s kinda short sorry

It was Crutchie's turn to pick the date. 

Everyone was happiest with his ideas. Davey usually picked museums, which were almost always boring. Jack usually took them to the theater, which was nice, but as talented as she was, you could only watch Medda's show so many times (and, yes, that's the only show he'd go to).

Crutchie had some birdseed with him, because why go to the park and not feed the pigeons? Davey didn't like birds very much, which Jack found hilarious, but he didn't mind it, as long as Crutchie was happy. 

They sat on a bench by the lake. Jack was in the middle this time, partially because Davey wanted to be as far from the birds as possible. Crutchie tossed some of the seeds to the birds, keeping them away from Davey, and Jack occasionally threw some as well. Meanwhile, Davey was skipping stones.

When they finished, Crutchie suggested they go over to one of the playgrounds. It was quite the walk, but none of them minded much. Jack offered to carry Crutchie, but he insisted on walking by himself. When they got there, Crutchie went onto the swings. Jack pushed him, and Davey got on the other one. He didn't go as high as Crutchie, though. He got motion sickness easily. 

After they decided they'd had enough of the playground, they went to Summit Rock. It was starting to get dark, and that'd be an amazing place to watch the sunset. That was Davey's favorite part of the park. He loved climbing up and sitting on it while he read. The three climbed up together (Jack needed the most help) and cuddled. They let Crutchie go in the middle this time. Partially because he was the smallest, and it was easy for Jack and Davey to still reach other without crushing anyone. 

The sunset was beautiful. Jack talked about Santa Fe the whole time, about how the sunsets were nicer there, and that he hoped the three of them would live there one day. Crutchie and Davey listened, even though both of them knew they'd never get out of New York, and Jack's dreams were far too big. But they thought him talking about it was adorable.

After the sunset, they went to dinner. Crutchie had chosen Café Sabarsky - an Austrian restaurant - mostly because their pastries were rated so well. He was a little worried that Jack and Davey wouldn't like it. He didn't think they'd ever had Austrian food before. But they all loved it. And the pastries did not disappoint.

They walked back to their apartment after. They cuddled on the couch and watched a Western movie, one of the few that Crutchie and Davey actually liked. As much as they wanted to make fun of the entire genre, solely to annoy Jack, they had to admit that there were some good ones.

Davey was the first to fall asleep, about halfway through the movie, and Crutchie wasn't far behind. Jack stayed awake until the end, then fell asleep as well.

Date nights that ended in cuddle piles were the best date nights.

[imagine-loki]

Irked

Title: Irked

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal.

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #15 Rating: Teen

While continuing to grocery shop, Loki was piling things into their cart so quickly, he was able to devise a plan. Each time Shandi tossed in something unhealthy, he’d sneak it out, replacing it with an alternative. To her, it simply appeared he’d shuffled things about. Then once in line, he suggested she wait in the car, while he took care of the rest.

“I can stay and help.” She replied.

“Wouldn’t you rather relax in the air-conditioned car?”

“Its air conditioned in here too, I don’t mind.”

The moment the person ahead finished up, Loki ushered her past the cashier. “We’ve a lot of meat, darling. The cooler the car, the better.”

“It’s not ‘that’ long of a drive.”

“Elizabeth.” His penetrating gaze and kind, yet insistent tone, left no room for further discussion.

“Okay, I’m going. Sheesh.”

Loki came out shortly after, stuffed all the bags into the trunk and they started back to the house.

“What was that about?” She asked.

“I thought you’d prefer being off your feet while making the car cooler.”

“And for the sake of all that meat?”

“Exactly.”

Her brow crinkled. “Then why is everything in the trunk?”

“Well…what’s your point, Lizzy? Is there an actual point to all this?”

Once arriving, she went to use the washroom and when done, Loki was waiting at the door.

“Where’s all the food?” She asked.

“I put it away already.”

“That fast?”

He smiled. “Didn’t I say magic was a wondrous thing?”

On the return ride, they discussed a few things.

“Alice must be using the ovens of a local Bakery to prepare for the fair.” Said Loki. “It makes sense. One home oven could never prepare enough baked goods for a large, three day event.”

Shandi couldn’t help but find his comment rather amusing and it showed on her face.

“Still finding it difficult to comprehend a prince of Asgard, cooks?”

“Yep and bakes.”

“Of which I’m pleased you’re no longer concerned to eat. You still haven’t revealed what all the fuss was about?”

Shandi glanced out the window. “I’m not discussing that with you Loki.”

He stifled a smirk. “As you wish, but I’m not the only Alien Prince that does. Upon returning here, I was a buffoon in the kitchen. Thor took me shopping and once showing me some basics of cooking, left me to myself. After the appliances and I had some..disagreements, which Tony took delight in critiquing following his initial panic, I resorted to a diet similar to yours.”

“Why was he panicked?”

“He was passing by my apartment one morning at the exact moment I set something ablaze in the kitchen, heard the fire alarm and demanded entrance. Fortunately, magic saved the Tower from a visit by the fire department, as I hadn’t learned how to use the extinguisher yet.”

Her brows rose. “What happened with the appliances?”

Loki then mocked Tony’s voice. “So, tell me Cactus. How does one who can teleport and make clones of himself, fuck up two toaster ovens, then a top of the line microwave, a high end coffee maker and today, simultaneously set two pans of bacon and omelet on fire?”

She chuckled. “You did all that?”

“I did. Had he have had some patience, I might’ve dressed before answering, too.”

“Did you answer the door in your underwear?”

“I’m certain he would have preferred that.” Shandis mouth fell open and Loki smirked. “I told you the day we arrived here, I sleep naked.”

“But you were cooking.”

“I had been wearing a robe, but overheated and removed it.”

She chuckled, again. “Poor Tony. What did he say?”

“He was banging away as I casually approached, ignoring his flare for dramatics.”… “What the hell’s going on in there Cactus? Open the…MOTHER OF GOD!!! HAVE YOU NO SCRUPLES?”

That did it. Between envisioning Tony’s expression and the way Loki mocked his mannerisms, Shandi was in stitches. “What happened then?”

“He scurried past me, inspecting things while I sauntered towards my robe and nonchalantly re adorned it. Since then, he has Jarvis inform me when he’s coming to assure I’m ‘decent.’”

“I fully believe that. Didn’t you read any of the instructions for those appliances, or extinguisher?”

“Pshh, whatever for? I came from an advanced realm, a God no less. Certainly without aid, I wouldn’t encounter difficulty operating Midgardian gadgets.”

“Oh. Is that why you put too much liquid into the blender at the staff kitchen, then?”

Loki recalled the incident. “I hadn’t put the lid on tight enough, was all.”

“Well, there’s always duct tape if Mr. Preston has one you’d like to use.” She cackled at his eyes rolling. “So, you were saying about your diet?”

“It was atrocious, much like yours.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Shandi, as a God, I’ve the strength no human could fathom and as you know, a large appetite. The amount of processed foods I was consuming, with all their chemicals, was negatively affecting ‘my’ energy levels. I can’t imagine how it’s affecting you.”

“I guess having eaten like a Prince, you wouldn’t be used to such things. Most average people, are.”

“And in the process, you’re subjecting yourself to a slow poisoning.”

‘Man.’ She thought. ‘He gets weirder by the hour.’ “Loki, what’s with the big interest in my diet all of a sudden?”

“Alright.” He coolly replied. “Seeing you so ill the other day, I was reminded of my own unpleasant plight. If you wish, perhaps I can help you prevent that from reoccurring. It’s up to you.”

Shandi was baffled by his recent behavior and the troublesome wish it were sincere. More than she cared to admit. She recalled Nat revealing his actions towards the family of a boy killed by the Chitauri, along with Thor and Steve’s conversation about how upset he was after an incident with a little girl in a restaurant. Was there a warmer side of himself, purposely kept concealed? Why? Another thought secretly pondered came to mind. One she’d soon get an opportunity to ask.

“Thank you for your concern.” She kindly replied. “I’ll consider it, okay? I was thinking about Laura being so outspoken. If we keep interacting with her, she may inadvertently teach us more about the family.”

Loki noted how quickly the subject was changed and let it go. “Possibly, but regarding Alice. If Nat doesn’t report seeing her at Beth’s shop today and we don’t during lunch hours at the park, I think it unwise to visit that Bakery just yet. It would imply traipsing around town the entire day with a car full of food and one who’s quite pregnant. Not a likely scenario.”

“True.” Shandi replied. “Alice may not be inclined to socialize either, being so busy.”

“She may. According to Laura, we made an impression. If we miss her at both places today and tomorrow, then we’ll go. It’s still another window of opportunity, we hadn’t known existed.”

By the time they re entered town, it was close to lunch and Loki stopped at a small Deli, before heading to the park. Shandi claimed not to be hungry and waited in the car. Upon returning, he plunked a medium sized bag and two large drinks into her lap.

“We may be there a while, so I bought you a veggie Pita and frozen fruit, smoothie.”

Shandi eyed everything. ‘Yep. Definitely getting stranger by the hour.’

After seeking out the same shaded bench as before, they ate while Loki kept a close eye out from behind dark shades. People slowly began entering the park, but there was no sign of the ladies. In case they did appear, he advised Shandi to start enacting the exercises he’d thought of. The idea was, he’d remain on the bench, or follow her from a short distance, while she walked nervously, throughout the park. Should Alice witness this, it would hopefully open an opportunity to explain Shandis actions. He suggested she start by buying more birdseed and after briefly chatting with the kid who sells it, she returned.

“This town gets smaller all the time. His name is Dylan and guess who his grandmother is?”

“Who?” Loki asked.

“Mrs. Carter. He mentioned witnessing our interaction with Beth and Alice and you were right. The two use her ovens every year for the fair.”

“How did you learn that?”

“I mentioned they were nice and hoped to see them around again. Then he recommended Beth’s shop and said Alice is usually at the Bakery every day, from now until the fair.”

“How kind of him.” Loki approvingly remarked. After a brief walk, Shandi began feeding the birds and kept glancing in his direction. “Something on your mind, oh pot bellied one?”

“Very funny, Clifford. I was thinking of how I’m still trying to comprehend, that humans aren’t alone in the universe.”

“That was unexpected, yet I imagine most of your people feel the same. Did 'you’ think you were?” He politely asked.

“I hadn’t any definite proof otherwise, until you and Thor. The universe is a massive place though and I’ve always considered it naive, assuming ourselves it’s only tenants.”

“And to your benefit, you’re not.”

The compliment overshadowed a building knot in her stomach of what response the next question may elicit. ‘It’s only going to keep bugging you. Dammit girl, where’s your gonads? Just ask him!’ “As a race, do you guys think us inferior?” Loki froze, concealing a scrutinizing gaze behind his glasses. Unable to escape the weight of it, Shandi returned to the birds. ‘Great. Of all times to lack the ability to teleport.’

Loki wondered if this related to his previous actions against her realm. “You’re certainly behind in many aspects, but no. Why would you ask such a thing, Shandi?”

It wasn’t really Thor’s opinion she’d grown concerned about, but including him had made the question easier to ask. Confident she could never care for one who thought himself above her own kind, the hope was to gain an inkling into Lokis true opinion, by catching him off guard. The reasons behind not asking them both sooner, were true.

“Curiosity. I would’ve felt awkward asking Thor.”

'Interesting.’ He thought. “Why? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. He’s kind, gentlemanly and funny, but I hardly see him unless it’s work related. I haven’t had a chance to really ‘talk’ with him.”

Loki recalled the times she’d remained in her apartment, after seeing him about the Tower. "Between us both, who have you seen around more?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask, if it didn’t.”

“Okay, you.” She replied.

“At any point until now, had you wanted to ask me such things?”

She shifted awkwardly, in her seat. “Look, why don’t we forget it Loki? I hadn’t meant for my question to make you feel uncomfortable.”

How she could even consider his feelings about anything, remained astounding to him. “You didn’t. It surprised me, was all. Had you ever wanted to?” He politely, persisted.

“Yes, but…” 'Damn.’ She suddenly thought. 'I shouldn’t have started this.’

Loki asked again. “But what Shandi, I’d really like to know?”

"Whenever possible I, avoided you.”

And Loki thought he felt like a dick, before. She’d really wished to talk to him and he’d senselessly, pushed her away. “Shandi, I…” His sentence was interrupted by a text. “We’re up Lizzy. Alice just parked and took food into Beth’s shop.”

All they discussed on route, was encountering Nat and Clint and upon entering, were greeted by an unsuspecting Beth, pricing items with her mouth half full. “Oh, hello. Please excuse me, it’s normally quiet this time of day and I was indulging. How are you?”

“Good thanks.” Said Shandi. “Don’t let us stop you.”

Beth smiled. “Goodness, if you sampled what I am, you’d understand. Wait, do you like strawberries?”

Shandi was about to respond, when Loki did. “She loves them. Blueberries, even more.” Her brow arched.

“Then you must try something.” Beth headed for the back room and moments later, returned holding open a plastic container. Inside were mini strawberry and blueberry tarts. The fruit sat amidst a rich, creamy custard with just the right sweetness and the pastry, practically melted in their mouths.

“Those are delicious.” They stated.

Alice spoke up from the doorway. “Why, thank you.” After greeting each other with pleasantries, she continued. “Those are only a sample of what will be at the fair. You really must come.”

Shandi lowered her eyes and Loki stroked her hair. “We’re thinking about it, aren’t we Lizzy?”

She nodded and uncertain what to make of their interaction, Beth retreated. “Very good. Let me know if you need any help.” She’d almost reached Alice when Shandi whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lizzy, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Beth then raised her brows at Alice when seeing Nat notice Shandi, through the shop window. Seconds later, she entered and Clint remained near the door. Loki took a double take, then protective stance, towards Shandi and Nat froze, about five feet away.

“I won’t come any closer. I saw you and…” Her shoulders slumped as Loki and Shandi, remained stoic. “We’ve an only daughter. She lives far away and is about to have a baby and…”

“Ella.” Clint, kindly interrupted.

Nat sighed. "It’s no excuse and I shouldn’t have touched you.” She stretched out her arm, holding a small gift bag towards Shandi. “This is for your baby. I hope you like it and I’m sorry.”

Loki and Shandis expressions softened as she slowly took the bag. “Thank you.”

Nat nodded, then headed towards Clint and once outside, they hugged. Shandi pulled a small teddy bear from the bag, that played a lullaby and glanced up at Loki.

“I know what your thinking, darling. You don’t need to consult me, go on.” When Shandi went outside, he turned to see Beth and Alice with their eyes glossed over and winked. “It’s good to see her make a friend. We haven’t any here.” Moments later, she re entered. “I gather that went well?” He asked.

Shandi smiled. “It did. They’re vacationing here for the summer at a nearby cottage and suggested we meet for drinks.”

“Sounds like a plan. Did they say when?”

"No, but I got her number.”

“Perfect, yet you’re prohibited.“ He teased. "If you recall, one too many is how we ended up in this predicament in the first place?”

Shandi looked to see the ladies, smirking. “How thoughtful of you to remind me, Clifford.” ‘Brat.’ She thought.

Alice chuckled. “I’ve seven children, four of whom were conceived under the same circumstances.”

“Speaking of.” Said Loki. “We met your daughters at the grocery store, earlier. Laura, our first day in town. Both are lovely.”

The ladies thanked him.

“We understand you met one who isn’t so lovely, as well.” Beth commented.

“According to Laura, that’s correct.” Said Loki.

"Only Laura?” ‘Shit woman, what’s wrong with you?’

Loki almost cackled. “She was entertaining to say the least, darling. Perhaps you’d like a basket to shop with?”

“Yes, please.”

After retrieving one, he feigned interest in a crib display, hoping the three would talk more. It worked and once the ladies stopped within a respectable distance of Shandi, he heard their whispers, perfectly.

“Laura said Tanya failed at flirting with your husband?” Asked Beth.

Shandi nodded.

“Good, but take heed.“ Said Alice. "The first opportunity that arises, she 'will’ try again.”

Being such strangers, Shandi found their openness amusing, yet wanted to learn more about this woman. "Even though…”

Beth slowly shook her head. “She doesn’t care if your married, pregnant, or both, so keep him close.”

“Clifford’s a good man. He doesn’t get much time away from me.” Shandi solemnly, stated.

“Trust us.” Said Alice. “Whatever his reasons, consider them a blessing. Tanya is well known for her 'slutty’ tactics and has gotten to the best of them.” She smiled at Shandis widened eyes. “Bet you never expected to hear that from an old lady.”

Beth offered her another tart. “At least you know one to avoid, if you’re looking to make friends in this town.”

“I am.” Shandi replied. “And we’ll ‘both’ be avoiding her.”

Loki smirked at the sarcasm in her tone.

“Good.” Said Alice. “What about making friends with a couple of seniors? “We’re busy preparing for the fair right now, but once it’s over, you’re welcome to join us for tea. Or coffee, which ever you prefer.”

Beth gave her a look. "If you like referring to yourself as ancient, be my guest. I, for one, am still a spring chicken.”

Alice sighed. “Whose days of laying eggs, have long ceased.”

Shandi chuckled at their teasing banter, while startled by her luck and gave Alice her number. “I look forward to that very much.“ Then she noticed Loki inspecting different boxes of mobiles. "I’d best get over there, before he gets too curious.”

“Would he open something again?” Asked Beth.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, if he liked it enough.”

‘I resent that.’ Thought Loki. Seeing her approach, he purposely held up a model with what appeared to have miniature, hairy Teletubbies on it.

“You can put that back now, Clifford.”

He tisked. "Party pooper.”

[hoffkk]

One Small Glimpse

Deception Drabble - Kaymeron

Requested by: Anon

Quote Requested: “Why do you have a baby with you?”

********

“I can’t do this anymore!” Dina nearly shouted through her tears as she walked urgently into Cam’s apartment. She was a stress-crier and right now she was definitely stressed out.

“Good to see you too.” Cameron quipped, trying to lighten the mood as he closed the door behind Dina and the stroller she pushed in front of her. He knew she had volunteered to babysit her nephew for the weekend. He also knew that she wasn’t a baby person. At all. So, Cameron had a feeling he knew exactly why she was all worked up.

“He just won’t stop!” Dina complained, confirming Cam’s suspicions just like that. “I've tried everything... playing, feeding, changing him, but he just cries! No matter what I do, he cries and cries and—“ Suddenly, Dina cut herself off as she stared in awe at Cameron who was now holding her surprisingly quiet nephew. “How did you do that?” She asked, feeling completely flummoxed.

Cam bounced the baby boy on his hip and cooed at him, pausing for a moment to reply, “You've just got to stay calm."  He took a moment to cover the little one's ears then continued in a whisper,  "Babies are like sharks. They can sense fear.”

Dina wasn’t sure if that information was totally accurate, but she wasn’t about to argue. The baby was finally quiet, and that was all that really mattered. So, instead of questioning his wisdom, she probed about his methods, “How did you get so good with kids?”

“Much like my magic skills and good looks, it is yet another heavenly gift I have been bestowed.” He answered confidently. “Isn’t it, little man? Yeah, it is. Yeah, it is!” Cam cooed again, making the baby give him a high five with his tiny hand.

Smiling nervously, Dina bit her lip and said sheepishly, “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask but... can you please look after Leo for a little while?

“What do you think, Leo?” Cam asked the little mocha skinned munchkin in his arms. “Wanna hang out with Uncle Cam for a bit?” Leo squealed, causing slobber to drip down his chin as he waved his hands happily. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned, pulling a magic hanky from his sleeve and wiping Leo’s face.  "And so can you."

“Thank you!” Dina sighed in relief then ran over to hug her friend. “Cameron, you are a life saver!” She told him as she gave him a gentle embrace around Leo.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved off, then after a moment added, “Actually, if you want to mention it to Kay, that’d be cool. You know, just saying.”

Aware of his little thing for Kay and that she now owed him big time, Dina just nodded her head and smiled, “I will talk you up SO hard next time I see her.” With that, she gave Leo a quick kiss on-top of his dark curls and darted to the door. “Everything you’ll need is in his diaper bag in the stroller. I’ll be back around dinner time. Thanks again!”

Cameron, who was too busy blowing raspberries on Leo’s tummy, barely heard her over his giggles. “I’m sorry, what?” He said after a moment looking over to where Dina had just been standing, but she was long gone. Unconcerned, Cam gave a quick shrug and began playing peek-a-boo with his new little buddy.

********

It was a little after one, and Kay had just finished her afternoon run through the park. She stopped by the big fountain as always and did a few cool down stretches. First, she stretched her legs. Then, she moved to her arms. As Kay pulled her left arm across her chest, she inhaled the sweet scent of lilacs and took in the scene around her. There was a family having a picnic, a young couple on a stroll, few other joggers like herself, and an elderly couple sitting on the fountain’s edge, feeding the birds around them. Down a few feet from Mr. and Mrs. Birdseed, was a young father playing with his baby boy. Kay couldn’t help but watch as he lifted his baby up and tossed him playfully in the air. It was so sweet. It made Kay’s heart tingle a little... as well as another place on her body. Let’s just say her biological clock was ticking loudly at the moment.

Still watching the father and son moment across the small grassy field, Kay dropped her left arm and repeated the motion with her right. As she did, she noticed the man switched from tossing the baby to making him fly around. Now that the little one was moving from side to side, Kay was better able to discern the man’s face. It was hard to see specifics, but she could tell he was about her age with dirty blonde hair and a charming dimpled smile. Wait a minute...

Squinting into the sun, Kay took a few steps closer and realized what or rather who she was seeing.

Making her way over to the man, she called out in confusion, “Cameron?”

“Oh, hey, Kay.” He grinned, placing the baby on his lap. Cam raked his eyes over her appreciatively. She always looked good but seeing her in spandex leggings and a racer back tank was truly something else. “Nice outfit.” He noted in a playful tone.

“Nice baby.” She retorted in kind.

“Leo meet Kay. Kay, Leo.” He introduced, holding out Leo’s teeny hand toward Kay.

“Hi, Leo.” Kay said sweetly, stretching out her index finger for Leo to grasp. He gave it a tight squeeze, making her heart melt and smile widen. “So...” She added after a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her. “You wanna tell me why you have a baby with you?”

“He’s Dina’s nephew.” Cameron explained. “She offered to babysit for her sister, but things weren't exactly working out.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, taking a seat next to him on the fountain ledge.

“Let’s just say Dina and babies go together like orange juice and toothpaste... and as someone who brushed their teeth before breakfast this morning I can attest that that is a terrible combination.” Cameron elaborated humorously.

Kay chuckled and said, “Gotcha.” then instantly returned her attention to Leo. He was so adorable that she couldn’t help but tell him so. “Aren’t you just a precious little man?” She cooed.

“I know,” Cam replied, accepting the compliment for himself with a teasing smirk. “It’s both a gift and a curse.”

Kay just rolled her eyes in response, expecting nothing less from her partner.

For the next few minutes, Cameron sat and watched as Kay played tickle monster with the bouncing baby boy in his arms. He loved the way her face lit up at Leo’s giggles and babbles. He also liked how Kay wasn’t fazed by a little drool or spit up. She would just grab the burp cloth sitting atop his shoulder and wipe the mess away before continuing with their little game. It was evident that Kay would make an amazing parent one day.

“You are pretty good at this.” He complimented.

“I’m not so sure about that... but thanks.” Kay responded awkwardly yet appreciatively.

“I mean it.” Cam told her with certainty. “When the time comes, you’ll be a great mom.”

Blushing a little, she smiled and quipped, “So will you.”

Letting out a little chuckle, Cam queried, “You wanna hold him?”

“I probably shouldn’t. I mean, I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.” Kay responded, glancing at her smart watch. Holy crap. Had she really been sitting here for a half hour already? “You know, I should probably get going.” She added, but really wanted to do anything but. It was her first day off in forever, and she had planned a “me” day, but, now that she was hanging out with Cam and Leo, Kay really liked the idea of a “we” day much better.

“We don’t mind. Do we buddy?” Cam asked looking to Leo. Mimicking a baby voice, Cam held him out to her and said “Stay, Kay! Stay! Hold me!”

Leo scrunched his little nose and gave her the cutest grin. How could she say no to that face? So instead she sighed, “All right, come here, little man. Come see Auntie Kay.”

Stretching his smile to meet his steel blue eyes, Cameron happily handed over Leo. Then, he proceed to watch the two of them play for a while longer before intervening to give the baby his bottle. Kay, not ready to give him up just yet, took the milk from Cameron along with the duties of feeding and burping. Cam didn’t mind. He loved watching them together. It made him think of his own future. A future with Kay and perhaps a child of their own. Realizing where his mind was going, he shook the thoughts away quickly and made a comment about Leo needing a nap.

“You gonna head back to your place?” She wondered aloud.

“Yeah, eventually.” Cam answered as he packed the toys they had used back up in the diaper bag along with Leo’s now empty bottle. “I’ll stroll him through the park first though. That should put him right to sleep.”

Kay nodded silently before handing Leo back to Cam and asking, “Mind if I tag along?” When he just blinked at her a moment, she added, “I don’t have to. I mean, if you don’t want me—“

“I want you,” Cam told her hurriedly, feeling like a jerk for suddenly trying to leave her behind. Realizing how awkward his words came out, he quickly amended, “to come... to come with me. Come for a walk with us.” He finally got out, using a phrase that didn’t sound completely inappropriate.

Seeing his cheeks flush with embarrassment, Kay smirked and said, “I’d really enjoy that.”

After staring at each other for a moment more, Cameron put Leo into the stroller, strapped him in, then gestured to the dirt walking path and inquired, “Shall we?”

The two of them walked for about an hour as Leo slept soundly, talking about this and that. Given the situation, the topic of kids naturally came up. While they both disagreed in amount (Kay liking the idea of just one and Cameron wanting a houseful), they both agreed that they did want kids someday... when the time was right."

A little while after that, Leo started to stir and get fussy, so Kay drove them all back to Cam’s (he had taken the subway earlier) so they could change the baby's diaper in the privacy of his apartment. For the remainder of the day, the three of them bonded as they went through a repetitious cycle of playing, feeding, and changing. Unfortunately, Leo got gassy and wouldn’t nap again. He got fussy for a while too, only relaxing whenever Cam would hold him. Needless to say, it was a fun yet exhausting evening.

********

Around 7 o’clock, Dina returned to the apartment for her nephew. She was about to knock when it occurred to her that Leo might be sleeping. Not wanting to risk waking him, if that was indeed the case, she pulled the spare key from her purse that Cameron had given her forever ago. Inserting it into the lock, Dina opened the door slowly and quietly. Not hearing much of anything from the entryway, she carefully shut the door and made her way further into the apartment. It wasn’t long before she spotted them in the living room.

Cameron laid passed out on the couch with Leo bundled in his arms, snoozing contently on his chest. Toys and diapers were strewn about, and the television softly played some children’s show that she didn’t recognize. It was all very adorable yet not really surprising... except for one detail.

Kay was there.

She was passed out on the couch next to Cameron, her head nestled on his shoulder, and a hand resting gently on Leo’s back like she had been giving him a soothing bedtime rub before falling asleep herself.

Not wanting to disturb the sweet moment, Dina quietly went to the kitchen and left a note for Cam, telling him to call her when he woke up.  Unable to stop herself, she went back to the living room to see the cuteness one more time and snap a picture of it with her phone.  With a cheeky smile, Dina hit save and made her way back out the same way she had come, all the while thinking and hoping...

that this was just one small glimpse of a big, bright future that lay ahead for Cameron and Kay. Together.

[dragonsinkwell]

Snippet #38

A new contender for the blog arrives! Finally dabbling in some Akechi, and it’s the first time for a non-Ren appearance in a P5 AU. I found a perfect meme for tengu!Akechi and thought I’d turn it into a small scene. I’m hoping I did okay with Akechi, not that he says a whole lot here but I’m nervous because I feel like my grasp of his character is the weakest. Hope it’s okay and y’all enjoy it!

Edit: Cut short b/c it’s late and the second animation trailer dropped and I’m dying of thirst. Pray for me.

Feeding the birds down in the local park isn't what most people would call a good hobby, but you think it isn't a bad way to unwind every now and again. About once a week, usually on a lazy Saturday, you pack up a little tub of birdseed and just chill under a tree tossing some seed out and watching the birds. It's calming, an activity with no pressure, no deadline, and no expectations.

Today's outing is no different. The park is rather empty today, given the early spring chill you aren't too surprised by this, however. But neither you, nor the birds, mind the weather. If the sun was out, so were they and that was good enough for you. They even seemed to remember you; well, to a degree at least. None of the birds got too close to you, which is fine. The birds are still wild animals, after all, and you do your best to remember that.

A familiar black bird arriving interrupts your lazy reflection and you reach for the container of birdseed to toss out some more. Of all the birds that you see, there's only one you can pick out regularly: a crow who always arrives by itself instead of with pals. You're not sure why it comes alone, though you have a feeling it's by choice. Crows are known to be clever creatures, so you wouldn't doubt it.

“Hey there buddy, back again for lunch, eh?” you remark cheerfully, and mostly to yourself. You reach into the tub and toss some new seed out for your favored guest. Obviously you don't expect a reply, but you occasionally wonder if it understands. Either way the crow is borderline domesticated sometimes, hopping close-ish, and with a very interesting habit of bringing you gifts. It started with little ribbons, or various coins (sometimes actual money, other times children's tokens), but they've slowly been getting nicer. One time it had brought you actual cash, which is when you started buying actual bird food, and ever since the crow continued to bring the odd bill here and there. A strange, if mutually beneficial relationship, and you figured it was all lost money. “What'cha got there today? Looks shiny; you find some more sea glass?”

The crow looks at the birdseed for a moment, looking for its favorites, sunflower seeds, but when it seems satisfied with what it's found, the bird hops a little closer to you. It leaves its trinket on the ground and begins its meal. You sit up a little more, reaching out to see what your corvid friend has brought you today. A necklace of some sort, and your first thought, before you have a chance to really look at it, is that it's probably some child's costume jewelry. Except, when you bring it close enough to inspect, it looks much too fancy to be a kid's plaything. You're no expert, but the chain looks like actual gold, and the pendant is an intricate one, with what you think are sapphires.

“Holy cow, where'd you find this?” you mutter, turning it over in your hands. “This is way too nice to have been sitting around, yeah?”

Again, you are talking to yourself, which is why you're taken complete off-guard when you get an answer.

“You'd think so, but rich tourists rarely come back for the things they lose. Rather unbecoming of them, I think.”

You're so startled you scream, actually scream, fumbling the necklace and nearly falling over entirely. Who the hell? You look up, heart racing, to see a young, brown-haired man standing near where the crow had been moments ago. He looks about your age and is giving you a friendly smile. “You scared me! Where'd you come from?”

“Who, me?” he asks, pointing at himself. “I've been here, though I can see why you wouldn't recognize me. But I apologize for startling you, I should have been more careful with my approach.”

The stranger takes a few steps closer and offers a hand to help you up. Warily you take it and allow him to aid you, after you retrieve the necklace with your other hand.