Brewster's Magical Brew
'Bout time I started updating this again. *nod* Writer's Block, begone! Complete with new spiffy icon! XDDDD! I still need to rehash interests and possibly figure out a new layout, but eh. Quite soon enough! Introducing the first of 7 drabble memes, this one's for swammi. Thanks for kicking me to play AC:WW again. ;D I HAVE A NEW PURPOSE IN LIFE AGAIIIIIIIIIIIN *cough* But yeah. 'Ere we go, AC slash. :3 (And no, it's NOT Totakeke/Tom Nook or anything random or scary like that. XDD;;; This ship has canon evidence! *cough*) First, gay hedgehogs, then two gay birdies... nope. NOTHING is safe from being slashed. Especially by Puri & friends. XDDD;;;
Title: Brewster's Magical Brew
Fandom: Animal Crossing
Genre: Romance
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff and a horrible cheesy title? XDD;;;
Ships: Blathers x Brewster
Finished: Yes
Meanwhile, Celeste needs to accept she's cute. Hootie-toot! T-T
The Roost. A fitting name for a place where a pigeon who worked underground. It was one of those nights that Blathers would come downstairs, hoping for a little coffee to waken his instincts and begin his nocturnal “day”. The checkered-plaid suited owl yawned sleepily in hello, eyes half-closed as he seated himself before the bird behind the counter.
Brewster nodded, laden in insomnia and scrubbing the insides of an eternally gray mug. The dishrag he used worn thin in coffee-stained and the obsessive-compulsive strain of its cleaning, as over and over, it rubbed the same spot within the orifice of the cup-the blue pigeon’s “finger” feathers never seemed quite affected, however. Just damp.
“It’s… 200 Bells.”
“Always the same, et wot?” The museum curator merely smiled.
“Coo…”
There was a pluck of a string-K.K. Slider had come. As he strummed soft warm-ups from his guitar, Brewster prepared a scoop of brown grains and poured it into the coffee mixer. A rich scent permeated the café, and the blue pigeon lowered his head in satisfaction. Stirring up coffee took a matter of minutes, but it never bothered Blathers, who was never impatient-the owl always found something to say.
“Nini came by today! Always the helpful lass, isn’t she, wot? I can’t imagine anyone who contributed more to our museum’s patronage. Alas, I do babble quite a bit about her, don’t I… my apologies, hoo.”
“Keep talking.” Brewster nodded. He didn’t mind it. He rather liked the museum curator’s enthusiasm, even if he didn’t always quite understand what he said sometimes. A dark, thick liquid splattered the measuring cup, the coffee almost ready. The blue pigeon set aside the mug he was working on and put it and the rag into the sink, wiping his feathers on a clean towel. He perused the drawers for the cleanest mug he could find, to the rhythm of his guest’s lecture.
“She’s got a clownfish today… and a red snapper, hootie hoo! She’s also brought a… a cockroach, of all the beastly things…”
Brewster closed his eyes in understanding-his friend was never fond of insects, even finding a dark, ghastly thing to say about butterflies. Once an ant crawled on the counter, and how uneasy he’d been, his eyes wide and pupils tiny, eying the thing like it were a germ or virus. Blathers, an owl, a predator of the skies-nonetheless, the blue pigeon crushed it beneath his mug, cleaning and listening to the museum curator’s traumatic story. Not a crumb, a droplet, or a bead of sugar dared grace the humble café since.
“I’ve… mixed an interesting blend today. It’s exclusive.” Pouring the sepia liquid into the mug, he watched as steam brewed from it like hot chocolate. He set it before the museum curator, whose countenance warmed as he clutched the mug’s handle, discussing how one could possibly want to eat a zebra turkeyfish and how to cook it. Yes, Blathers was a charming bird. Certainly charming…
“…You might want to drink that, before it gets cold.”
“Oh! Dear me… of course! Hoo!”
The owl raised the cup to his beak, taking a long, full sip. An almost musical chirp resounded from his throat, like one had quenched his thirst at the Fountain of Youth. It was a strong, creamy coffee, and Blathers noted it himself for his gratitude. A quirky tune resonated nearby, K.K. Slider performing “Café K.K.” to suit the Roost’s atmosphere. Brewster accepted his mug, soaking it beneath the faucet and drying it with a new rag.
“…Thanks.”
“Of course! Visiting you has always been pleasurable, wot?” The museum curator leaned forward and placed a “peck” on the blue pigeon’s cheek. “I do hope to see you again. Hope flutters that one day, we’ll have an exciting expedition upstairs by the museum, hootie hoo!” The owl disappeared to his duties, leaving Brewster petrified and mustache twitching. His beady white eyes wide as the dishes he washed, he was still watching the door as the mug slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.
“What’s wrong, man?” K.K. Slider was still playing and seemingly unaffected by the sudden crash. “You look pink.”
“What!? I’ve-I’ve never…!” In an embarrassed frenzy, the blue (now rosy) pigeon fumbled between the broken pieces, keeping himself occupied as he gathered them in his dishrag. “Coo…!”
At any rate, the new coffee blend worked better than he expected.
Title: Brewster's Magical Brew
Fandom: Animal Crossing
Genre: Romance
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff and a horrible cheesy title? XDD;;;
Ships: Blathers x Brewster
Finished: Yes
Meanwhile, Celeste needs to accept she's cute. Hootie-toot! T-T
The Roost. A fitting name for a place where a pigeon who worked underground. It was one of those nights that Blathers would come downstairs, hoping for a little coffee to waken his instincts and begin his nocturnal “day”. The checkered-plaid suited owl yawned sleepily in hello, eyes half-closed as he seated himself before the bird behind the counter.
Brewster nodded, laden in insomnia and scrubbing the insides of an eternally gray mug. The dishrag he used worn thin in coffee-stained and the obsessive-compulsive strain of its cleaning, as over and over, it rubbed the same spot within the orifice of the cup-the blue pigeon’s “finger” feathers never seemed quite affected, however. Just damp.
“It’s… 200 Bells.”
“Always the same, et wot?” The museum curator merely smiled.
“Coo…”
There was a pluck of a string-K.K. Slider had come. As he strummed soft warm-ups from his guitar, Brewster prepared a scoop of brown grains and poured it into the coffee mixer. A rich scent permeated the café, and the blue pigeon lowered his head in satisfaction. Stirring up coffee took a matter of minutes, but it never bothered Blathers, who was never impatient-the owl always found something to say.
“Nini came by today! Always the helpful lass, isn’t she, wot? I can’t imagine anyone who contributed more to our museum’s patronage. Alas, I do babble quite a bit about her, don’t I… my apologies, hoo.”
“Keep talking.” Brewster nodded. He didn’t mind it. He rather liked the museum curator’s enthusiasm, even if he didn’t always quite understand what he said sometimes. A dark, thick liquid splattered the measuring cup, the coffee almost ready. The blue pigeon set aside the mug he was working on and put it and the rag into the sink, wiping his feathers on a clean towel. He perused the drawers for the cleanest mug he could find, to the rhythm of his guest’s lecture.
“She’s got a clownfish today… and a red snapper, hootie hoo! She’s also brought a… a cockroach, of all the beastly things…”
Brewster closed his eyes in understanding-his friend was never fond of insects, even finding a dark, ghastly thing to say about butterflies. Once an ant crawled on the counter, and how uneasy he’d been, his eyes wide and pupils tiny, eying the thing like it were a germ or virus. Blathers, an owl, a predator of the skies-nonetheless, the blue pigeon crushed it beneath his mug, cleaning and listening to the museum curator’s traumatic story. Not a crumb, a droplet, or a bead of sugar dared grace the humble café since.
“I’ve… mixed an interesting blend today. It’s exclusive.” Pouring the sepia liquid into the mug, he watched as steam brewed from it like hot chocolate. He set it before the museum curator, whose countenance warmed as he clutched the mug’s handle, discussing how one could possibly want to eat a zebra turkeyfish and how to cook it. Yes, Blathers was a charming bird. Certainly charming…
“…You might want to drink that, before it gets cold.”
“Oh! Dear me… of course! Hoo!”
The owl raised the cup to his beak, taking a long, full sip. An almost musical chirp resounded from his throat, like one had quenched his thirst at the Fountain of Youth. It was a strong, creamy coffee, and Blathers noted it himself for his gratitude. A quirky tune resonated nearby, K.K. Slider performing “Café K.K.” to suit the Roost’s atmosphere. Brewster accepted his mug, soaking it beneath the faucet and drying it with a new rag.
“…Thanks.”
“Of course! Visiting you has always been pleasurable, wot?” The museum curator leaned forward and placed a “peck” on the blue pigeon’s cheek. “I do hope to see you again. Hope flutters that one day, we’ll have an exciting expedition upstairs by the museum, hootie hoo!” The owl disappeared to his duties, leaving Brewster petrified and mustache twitching. His beady white eyes wide as the dishes he washed, he was still watching the door as the mug slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.
“What’s wrong, man?” K.K. Slider was still playing and seemingly unaffected by the sudden crash. “You look pink.”
“What!? I’ve-I’ve never…!” In an embarrassed frenzy, the blue (now rosy) pigeon fumbled between the broken pieces, keeping himself occupied as he gathered them in his dishrag. “Coo…!”
At any rate, the new coffee blend worked better than he expected.