Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Hello, dreamers of Manhattan. The Rift knows that things have been kind of rough, lately. The last dream didn't go as well as it had hoped. Consider this an apology of sorts, and a hearkening back to the good times you've shared.

It's a grand old (and potentially familiar) cabin house that the dreamers will find themselves wandering. The furniture is plentiful and comfortable, the floors are strewn with cushions and blankets, and there are cheerful fires burning in the grates. It seems a little odd that the house still manages to be on the chilly side despite looking so warm, yet it is.

Oh, well. You'll just have to find another dreamer or two and spoon up and fall asleep like little baby cats get cozy. It shouldn't be difficult; most of the dreamers (excepting those with strong telepathic defenses or deeply ingrained cuddle-averse personalities) will find themselves feeling friendlier than usual, along with an almost overwhelming desire to snuggle up to someone. How convenient that the house seems designed for that very purpose!

And if some of the cushions are Hello Kitty themed, well, that's just coincidence.


[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply. Characters will be affected by the dream-whammy to whatever degree makes the most sense for them, and will remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. Backtag into infinity.]

Comments

[anguiform]

'What?' Crowley twists to frown down at Aziraphale, and then, 'Wait, what?' but it's too late by this point to lodge any objections, as Aziraphale's augmented the armchair, Crowley's toppled awkwardly sideways with his wings up and flared to avoid getting knocked about, and Melanie's climbed up to join them. Crowley blows air between his lips. Well. Isn't this just bloody adorable. They're a right Hallmark card, the three of them.

Melanie's perched in Aziraphale's lap like there's nowhere else she'd rather be in the world, the scant weight of her feet the barest pressure against Crowley's leg. And yet somehow, for all he's perfectly aware that this is RIDICULOUS and Aziraphale is a bloody sentimentalist, Crowley doesn't get up. He shifts around a bit until he can find a comfortable way to sit with his wings out, and with his back to the arm of the chair, one wing still spread out behind Aziraphale like a feathery cloak.

The kid is gazing at him with eyes practically glowing, and he sighs, giving her a little look. 'Yeah, go on, then.'

If nothing else, he can admit that it's nice to be admired. Even if Melanie's a ridiculously easy sell.

[bibliophale]

"Thank you," says Aziraphale politely, for that nice remark about his wings. He happens to think Crowley's are a little too ostentatious, but he can see why Melanie would like them. He smiles approvingly at Crowley when he gives Melanie permission to touch them. That's the spirit! And he'll like it - it's impossible not to like Melanie fawning over your wings, in his experience.

He rests one hand on Crowley's thigh, innocently of course - there's just nowhere else to put it in this position - and reaches out to stroke Melanie's hair with the other. Now this is nice. Things have been so difficult lately, he and Crowley have been so cut off from one another, and poor Melanie's just been getting on as always, like a trooper. But look at them all, sitting together in front of a nice crackling fire!

He feels a vague twisty sensation from very far-off, perhaps a distant sort of embarrassment. Easily ignorable. He's also vaguely aware that the dream is sort of pushing these feelings on him, but that's neither here nor there. Why shouldn't he be happy? He has enough generalized distress the rest of the time, thank you. He brushes it aside.

[all_the_gifts]

Melanie throws Aziraphale a smile over her shoulder when he thanks her, but she beams when Crowley invites her to touch his wings. They're just so pretty. Previous experience with Aziraphale's wings has made her a bit less tentative than she might be, otherwise, but she still takes care to be gentle as she runs her fingers over the alula. The feathers are smoother than Aziraphale's, neater, and there's really no question of her threading her fingers through his feathers the way she would with the angel's. But that's all right. It's enough that she gets to touch them at all.

"Thank you," she says, a bit shyly, withdrawing her hand and leaning back against Aziraphale's chest. The warmth is nice, and uncomplicated - she can enjoy it for what it is without any faint undertones of predatory interest from the hungry part of her. Is this what it would feel like if she was normal? She'll have to enjoy it while it lasts.