The monsoon hit especially hard this year. Simon's eyes are staring into the sky, populated with racing water droplets agitated beyond it's airbone size limit by the dusts and crystals high up in the atmosphere.

The rains hit the zinc roofs with thunderous clatter. Young children are scared and cling to Simon for heat and comfort, but Simon can only feel a calming drowsiness.

"Abang! Abang!" Simon is jolted.

"What, budak?"

"Abang, I'm bored."

Forming his right hand into a claw, Simon clasps his brother's head lightly and rock it back and forth slightly. "Can't you see I am daydreaming, Damian?"

The boy chuckles as his head bobbed around. "Abang, I want to play computer."

"Father says not to, if lightning hits electronics, it will ruin them."

"Can I play your handphone please? Please, please, please?"

Simon sighs. The phone is at 80%. "Alright, wait." He moves his thumb, swiping the screen windows one way and other. After deleting his browsing history, he hands the phone over.

"Tonight, do homework you understand. Don't make Mom take away my handphone. If she does, I am going to eat all your cakes."

Damian shrieks in 'horror', then runs away to play Angry Birds.

After a few hours, the rain slows down to a drizzle. It is afternoon, and Simon grunts as he rises from the sofa. Damian is already asleep, the phone placed safely on his study table. Damian opens Whatsapp. His fingers taps the phone screen lightly, measuring his words.

"Celestine, what you doing?"

"Why? Wanna dating, issit?"

"No, just checking bah!"

"Bah, don't just check only, visitlah some time!"

"Your bapa' so scary, looks like eating people."

"Your fault, you don't bring him durian!"

"Where got durian this year? Next year then durian season."

"Ahahahahah, durian cheesecake also OK mah."

"Oh bah. Later this week no rain, I come yah."

"Arright, later I come, wear nice-nice."

"Ok. Eh, I wanna work now. My brother sick, can't wash plates."

"Babai."

"Babai."

Damian smiles as he opens the app for Maybank. He looks at the amount in his bank. RM 30 000. Hopefully Celestine's father isn't the type to do grand weddings and hosts a thousand relatives, friends, and clients.

This is it. He will propose this week.

Mollie and Ollie grinned at each other. Mollie said, "Now, we play Constance Sims!"

"On Isengard, of course," added Ollie.

"On Isengard! On Isengard!" Mollie said, mimicking a very old song from the World One internet.

Wilma glared from the other side of the table. "No. Singing." She wore her usual t-shirt showing a music note with a line crossed through it, centered inside a sniper reticle.

"Dang it," said Wilma's team mate, Riso. "We almost had Dafydd down!" He scooted a few inches further from Wilma, who was in a plenty bad mood even while she still had her sense of humor. No sense risking touching her, even as covered in clothing as he was.

"Why yes, we will be using Constance's heal ability to restore Dafydd's health. Of course, you can block with—oh, you can't, because you couldn't get anyone to follow Dafydd to Isengard last turn!"

"Not like we didn't try!" Wilma complained. "Oscar Henson kept blocking it, despite his low speed stat."

With a sagely lilt, Ollie said, "Ah, the joys of uniting a married couple on the table."

"Figures you two would go there," Riso muttered.

Mollie and Ollie had gone back to looking at the cards in their collective hand, but after a moment they frowned. They looked at each other, then up at Riso. "What do you mean by that?" asked Mollie.

"Well. Like. You two." Riso pointed between his two opponents.

"It's pretty obvious," Wilma explained.

Mollie and Ollie looked at each other again, brows furrowed. "Not to us, apparently," Ollie said.

Wilma huffed. "Your names rhyme. You're always together. You're from the same story. You speak in unison. You're getting married when you're older."

"Your story was in a Disney fandom, too," added Riso. "That pretty much guarantees it!"

"Childhood sweethearts getting married. It's such a cliched plot, there's pretty much no way out of it for you."

Mollie and Ollie stared across the coffee table, open-mouthed. "Dude!" they said in unison.

"There it is again," said Wilma.

"No way," protested Mollie. "We can't get married. That is so gross!"

"Yeah, that's a totally weird thing to say!" said Ollie. "We're like, you know . . ." He trailed off.

"Augh!" Wilma put her hand over her mouth and looked off to the side with a dramatic motion. "I am so sorry, guys. It didn't even occur to me!"

"Wait, what?" asked Riso.

"We should have known," said Wilma. "It's pretty obvious now. They're siblings!"

Mollie and Ollie stared across the table, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"Nooo."

"She's not my sister. Jeeze!"

Now Wilma furrowed her brow. "You're not? Oh. Well then, you're totally getting married."

"Are not!" Mollie yelled, though it was easily drowned out by the cacophony of the Nursery around them.

"Not a chance," Ollie said. "Like I was saying, we're like, you know . . . friends!"

"Yeah, we couldn't fall in love. That would be weird!"

Wilma and Riso glanced at each other, then began snickering.

"Okay then, weirdos," Wilma said, "is it our turn now?"

"Not a chance!" Mollie and Ollie said in unison. "We still have two actions left this turn!"

Wilma and Riso smirked.

doctorlit's note: Yeah, I didn't actually use the line from the prompt, but I couldn't come up with a situation where any of my adult characters would say it. I figured this discussion at least sticks to the theme of misunderstandings and confused feelings, eh?

Incidentally, I'm flummoxed for a title, so suggests for that in addition to regular concrit are welcome.

"I can't."

---

"I, I just... I mean, we've been together so long-"

"Only a few months."

"It feels longer. A lot longer. Like living in a dream."

"I know. It's been a dream for me too. But dreams end, honey."

"Not for you."

---

"What do you want me to do, cob, beg? Because your scrawny arse knows I'll beg."

"Yes, it does. So does the rest of me."

"Then why-"

"Because I can't do that to you."

"... Not following."

"My people, we've got this, this thing. We can go anywhere, at any time, to see and to feel and to be. But we can't leave too great of a mark in case it makes things worse."

".. Still not following."

"I mean-"

"I get it, you know? I get it. The way you are... it doesn't lend itself to settling down. But, but what you're missing is that it doesn't matter to me. I don't want to settle down! I'm twenty-four, for God's sake! I've got my whole life ahead of me!"

"Don't I know it."

---

"Will you at least think about it?"

"I've done all the thinking about it I can, honey. Trust me, affairs of the hearts are something I know a bit about."

"You keep saying that."

"... I'm hearing a quotative like at the end of that sentence."

"Ugh, fine. You keep saying that like I'm not... your first."

"Well, you aren't."

"I, I know that. Sorry. That wasn't what I-"

"I know what you meant. You think that if I won't wrap a bit of metal around your finger or bind our wrists with silk or consume one of our specially bred clone-young at a feast in your honour - bee tee dubs, Sontar is weird as heck - that means I don't think you're special."

"Well? Do you think I'm special? Or do you rate me as just another notch that just happened to stick around-"

"I'm over five hundred years old."

"... Damn."

"Yeah."

"I... I don't know what to say to that."

"Most people ask about who supplies me with my moisturizer."

"Damn it, why do you have a crap joke for every occasion?"

"Practice."

"Over five centuries?"

"You learn to weed out the bad ones."

"No you don't."

"No, I do. I just choose not to."

---

"Won't you? Please? Even now?"

"No, Lola..."

---

The shaking figure of the Time Lord didn't look imperious, or severe, or indeed like much of anything. She just looked beaten. She shook in her partner's arms, the sweat on her brow staining the clown's dungarees.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I can't."

((Thanks to Delta for letting me borrow Grace.))

Charlotte tilted her head back, feeling snowflakes settle on her cheeks before melting into tiny droplets. "It's still strange," she commented, looking at Ix, who was hunched in her many layers of coats and sweatshirts. "I'm not used to the cold affecting me."

Ix's teeth could only chatter in reply. Snow clung to her hat and dripped down the front of her shirt; she'd taken a snowball right to the face during their earlier snowball fight and it was starting to take its toll on her.

Charlotte grinned. "Alright, we've seen enough of the courtyard; want to go get cocoa?" She checked her watch surreptitiously; the timing couldn't have been better.

Ix grinned and nodded, and Charlotte looped her arm through Ix's. They shuffled through the snow and back to the door; once inside, they stomped their feet to remove the last clinging flakes before setting off in a random direction. Despite their frozen hands, they pulled their gloves off, intertwining their fingers as they walked.

When they entered Rudi's, the pub was strangely empty. The only person inside was the bartender, Grace, who already had two steaming mugs of cocoa ready on the bar. She gave the agents a knowing smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Ix looked around, at the dim lighting, the candles flickering on the tables, and Charlotte's face. Though Charlotte's pale cheeks were already flushed from the cold, a hint of embarrassment was beginning to creep up to her ears.

"Lottie," she said slowly, "what's going on?"

Charlotte picked up the two steaming mugs and carried them over to a table draped with a dark red cloth. She set them down before hurrying to pull a chair out for Ix.

"Lottie—"

"Here, sit," Charlotte said, gesturing to the chair. Ix sat, looking up at Charlotte curiously.

Charlotte took one of Ix's hands between her own. "Faolan Saibhir," she said slowly, careful to get the pronunciation right. "I have something very important I'd like to ask you."

Ix's heart was in her mouth as Charlotte slowly sank to one knee, reaching into her pocket. Her eyes went wide and she let go of Ix's hand. "Oh god." She began patting herself down frantically, tearing her coat off and shaking it, turning pockets inside-out. "I lost the ring!"

With shaking hands, Ix pulled her wand from her belt and flicked it. "Accio ring."

She and Charlotte looked at each other, equal looks of sheepish, nervous excitement on their faces as they waited. After a very, very long minute, the box came zooming into Ix's hand and she passed it over to Charlotte, who laughed and opened it to reveal a wide tungsten band engraved with a lover's knot.

"Faolan Saibhir," Charlotte said again, "will you marry me?"

Ix slid down to the floor so she was level with Charlotte, and cupped her face in her hands. They kissed, the box slipping out of Charlotte's hands as she wrapped her arms around Ix's neck.

"Yes," Ix whispered, finally pulling away.

((Beta'd by Iximaz. Thunks!)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AI2Hs52mU2a0kKu-mk0oVNomajzKF8Z74ZaJaBI_XeQ/edit?usp=sharing

((This is unbeta'd and possibly slightly sadder than the other prompts. I'm sorry.))

"You OK?" Cinnabar asked as she entered her RC. Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at a holoprojector that Cinnabar had never seen in the room before.

Not looking away from the scene playing on the holoprojector Theo shook his head. "You know how I said my left eye records just about everything I see?"

"Yeah." Cinnabar replied as she moved around both Theo and the holoprojector to sit next to her partner, as she did so she noticed Theo had been crying, a rare thing for the Mandalorian Cyborg.

"Well, there are special times that I'm able to keep. When I was still in my 'verse some of my crew used to edit the recordings so that it was more like a third person video than just a first person view from my eye." Theo explained, still watching the scene. "And of all of those scenes, this one..." He broke down crying again, unable to finish his sentence.

Cinnabar looked at the holoprojector, the scene showed two figures, one obviously Theo and another, from what Cinnabar could remember a Zabrak Force user, staring out across a beautiful world, rolling green fields and hills gave way to snow-capped mountains in the background. Turning her attention back to the two figures Cinnabar saw, and heard, Theo kneeling down, a ring appearing from one of the compartments in his gauntlet as he said "Pariya, will you marry me?"

The force user, Pariya, looked down and smiled. "You are aware it is highly unusual for a Jedi to marry, especially to someone who works for the Empire?"

Theo, in the video, chuckled. "Since when have you been a usual Jedi?"

Pariya laughed. "That is very much true."

"Well?"

Cinnabar almost jumped as the line was said twice, almost in perfect sync. Once was by the slightly worried, but still happy Theo in the video and the other was from a much sadder voice in real life. Turning from her thoughts to the video she realised she'd missed part of this Pariya's response.

"-course you dolt. Stuff those uppity Jedi Masters back on Tython. I'll happily marry you."

The video cut back to the beginning, just two figures standing at the edge of a grand complex of buildings admiring the view. Cinnabar looked at Theo. "You really were married?" She asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Theo's vision broke away from the video and he stared at Cinnabar. "Yes. Today would have been our tenth anniversary."

((Fin.))

Events like this are one of the things I love about the PPC.

I’m afraid I’ll sit out on this, because I probably can’t fit a proposal into the story arc intended for Androia and Hieronymus, and since I have family over here for the weekend, reading and commenting will have to wait.

HG

I may not get a chance to comment on these individually, but I am reading and enjoying them all. Keep it up!

~Neshomeh

...fussing over details, doing, undoing, and redoing her work until she was satisfied. Sonia put down her hairbrush and examined her reflection. Her long brown hair, normally tied up in a messy bun, was braided to perfection and fell over her left shoulder. Her riding tunic was impeccably clean and her armour had been polished to a mirror shine. Her riding boots were also waxed to perfection— polished to the point where she could almost see her reflection in them. She then applied a tiny bit of perfume to her neck and sat up straighter.

She looked as if she had just stepped out of a royal family portrait. Perfect.

The Pegasus Knight then grabbed the little velvet case resting on her vanity and gently opened it. A beautiful silver ring glinted back at her in the soft light of her bedroom. She and Harris had been seeing each other for years, now. They had grown closer with every passing day despite being somewhat hostile to each other the first time they had met. She grew to know him... like him... and love him. Oh, she could go on and on about him: enthusiastic, charming, gentle, well-spoken, polite— if spectacularly maladroit at times. He had opened up to her and she to him; Sonia could not imagine a day without seeing him now.

She stood up, pocketed the case, and took a deep breath. Gods, this was difficult. She knew his answer already— so why was this so nerve-wracking...?

Sonia had barely stepped into the RC’s living room when Harris burst through the door and skid to a halt when he saw her.

“Harris?”

“I, uh.” He did a very poor job at concealing the wooden box he was holding. “S-Sonia! I didn’t expect to see you, uh. Here. Now.”

“In our RC?”

“Uh...” He swallowed nervously. “Y-you look beautiful, Sonia... um... are we planning something tonight?”

It was the Pegasus Knight’s turn to gulp nervously. “I... wanted to discuss something extremely important.” She noticed his hands tighten around the box he was carrying. Could it be...? Regardless. She had practiced for this moment. Sonia approached Harris and took out the velvet case. “Harris Frost,” she said slowly as to keep the shaking out of her voice, “I have been at your side for well over six years now... and you, at mine. We’re already close— and I would like to make us closer.” She slowly bent down to one knee and presented the case to Harris, fighting back the sudden urge to run away. “Will you marry me?”

There. It was done.

“I— I was...” Harris also got to his knees and brusquely opened his box. A gold ring slipped out and clattered to the floor. “I was going to propose too...” he said hastily, quickly snatching up the ring before it could roll away. He held up the ring, offering it to her. “Sonia, yes. With all my heart, yes. I— I made you this ring... like, all by myself... Will you...?”

“Harris, I...” Sonia stared at the ring, then at Harris’ earnest face. “Yes.”

She threw her arms around him and pulled him close.

---

(Just de-lurking for a moment to post a response. I couldn't resist.

Laters!)

Dawn woke up slowly. She was warm, at first, but then the aches set in: her head, her shoulder, both her knees, even one of her hands--she wasn't sure how it had happened, but she wanted the warmth back. Groaning, she curled up--ouch, no, why--and tried to fall back asleep.

"You're awake," observed a familiar voice. Dawn groaned again and pulled the covers over her head--which left her calves exposed to the chill in the air. What? "Good. We should leave soon."

"Why're my blankets short?" Dawn asked. She didn't care that it came out slurred; she wasn't about to put more effort into moving her jaw than was absolutely necessary. No way. "M'cold."

"They are shock blankets from the USS Enterprise," T'Zar replied. Her voice went just the tiniest bit dry as she continued, "You cut them in half last month to make a poncho."

Dawn remembered that. It was the warmest poncho she'd ever had. Completely worth it, apart from how cold her feet were getting.

There was no way she was getting back to sleep now. Dawn turned onto her back, redistributing the (very, very orange) blanket and trying to convince herself to sit up.

Mission. They were on a mission. It wasn't even on an ice planet, despite the chill, but Dawn could remember falling the day before, rolling--

She grimaced and sat up, tucking the blanket around her. "You did pretty much everything to set us up yesterday, didn't you? Camp, and that? The blanket?"

"Yes," replied T'Zar, and Dawn remembered T'Zar supporting her down the hills, setting up a makeshift camp without complaint, convincing Dawn (pretty easily) to lie down in the middle of it, even wrapping the blanket around her and--to Dawn's great amusement--using a phaser to heat up rocks for further warmth. Nothing like an actual TOS Vulcan mimicking Sulu's TOS moves to bring back Dawn's thoughts of how awesome this partnership was, even five months in.

Now T'Zar held out a cup. "Hot tea," she explained, and waited patiently for Dawn to untangle a hand so she could take it. "There is also oatmeal and pancakes, and I succeeded in finding the honey jar you believed lost."

Dawn rested the camping mug against her knee and stared at T'Zar, only looking away to spot the pancakes--apparently reheated from the stock Dawn had made...was it only two days ago? Was it even two days ago?--and the oatmeal, still dry in the jar.

"Marry me," she said fervently. Well, she thought it was going to be fervently, inasmuch as she'd thought about it at all before she'd said it; in practice, she sounded tired and a little plaintive. Also a bit hoarse--well, she'd talked a lot yesterday.

The Vulcan froze, more obviously startled than Dawn had seen before, and then one of her eyebrows ticked up. "I...had not thought you interested. Moreover, you are not a Vulcan; while Vulcan-alien marriages have occurred, they remain extremely rare--"

"Whoa, hey, whoa." Dawn reluctantly freed her other hand to rub at her eyes. "Slow down. A lot."

T'Zar closed her mouth, but her gaze remained intense.

"I'm, I'm not, I mean--" Dawn took a breath, inhaling steam from her tea--hm, rosehip--and let it out slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's...it's an expression. The way I used it. I don't actually say it much, but--it really is an expression."

"Explain."

"Uh--" Dawn frowned, cupping her hands around the mug in an attempt to keep them warm. "It's...like, when someone's really grateful, or they've been surprised with something good? So they say 'marry me' as kind of...kind of like saying 'I think you're really, really amazing right now'? Something like that. I don't normally say it, but I've been seeing it around, so...And, I mean, you're really awesome right now. So. But I'm not actually looking to get married right now, and I'd definitely want some dating first. A lot of dating. Serious dating." Dawn caught up to her words and made a face. "I'm just going to...stop talking about this now, okay? Except to add that I'm actually only sixteen, which for my time period and culture is way too young to get married. Really."

"...ah." T'Zar considered it, then nodded. "I...appreciate your presence as well. Drink your tea," she added when the human only gaped at her. "We must leave within the next thirty-four minutes."

"Uh-huh," Dawn said intelligently, and began convincing her arms to lift.

*

Six years later, T'Zar redirected her obnoxiously energetic current partner out the door of the RC with the reminder of some task to be done, and turned back in time to see her former partner sit down heavily with a sigh of relief.

"Marry me," the human said once she had let her head loll back against the couch.

T'Zar raised an eyebrow, mostly for effect. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dawn, as I did the other four times you asked, but I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request at this juncture."

Dawn raised her head again, startled delight spreading across her face; then, she burst into laughter that didn't stop until she was out of breath.

"Never change," she told T'Zar once she could speak again. "You're amazing."

It was probably illogical to feel so pleased over causing such a large outburst of emotion; even so, T'Zar didn't prevent the slight uptick of the corners of her mouth.

Life among humans was rife with illogic, but after a decade in the PPC, T'Zar had almost grown accustomed. Visible hints of emotion seemed a small price to pay to ease relationships and prevent large displays of negative emotions.

It was only logical.




---
(Unedited, unbetaed, finished very late in the day, but hopefully a fun read! ~Z)

((So I took some liberties with this. Sue me, it's what popped into my head. Concrit is appreciated!))

The Aviator paced in circles around his TARDIS' controls, goggles dangling from his left hand. In his right, he held a piece of paper covered in sprawling Circular Gallifreyan, scrawled hastily and crossed out many times.

"I've known you for ten years now," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "And I know that's not very long, but we've been through a lot together and I think it's time we... Urk." He balled the paper up and threw it across the room, where it landed in a pile among other crumpled sheets.

"Mum?" Elanor poked her head around the corner. "Everything alright?"

The Aviator looked up and gave his daughter a tired smile. "Everything's fine, kiddo," he said, leaning against the navigation panel.

The TARDIS hummed, and the Aviator's ears reddened. "That's perfectly fine!" he snapped.

Elanor laughed and came over to slip her hand into his. "Doesn't sound fine to me," she said. "But, um, why're you so worried about planning a surprise for the Detective? I thought you two were..." She trailed off and gestured vaguely.

"It's not just any surprise, Elanor." The Aviator reached into his pocket and produced a small box.

Elanor's mouth fell open and she looked up at the Aviator, eyes wide. "YOU'RE GONNA ASK HIM TO—"

"Shh!" the Aviator hissed, looking around frantically for signs of Zeb. The last thing he wanted was for his partner to overhear and spoil everything.

"I'm gonna get a dad?!" Elanor whispered, beginning to bounce in place.

"Maybe, Ellie, maybe," the Aviator said. "The Detective is... well. You know what he's like."

"But he loves you," Elanor said, folding her arms. "And you love him. Right?"

The Aviator looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words written among the tangle of cables. "I mean—"

"Right?" Elanor repeated.

"Right," the Aviator said, "but it's not that simple. Life's not a fairy tale where as long as you're in love, everything will be okay. Both people have to be compatible, both have to want the same things out of life, and... while Dee's talked about the possibility of us making it official, he's been hurt in the past. We both have."

Elanor pulled away to sit on the chair facing the navigation panel, putting her feet up on the Aviator's knees. "Well, why not just ask him?" she said. "Not like you haven't talked about it before, right?"

The Aviator crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Elanor, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is something I have to figure out for myself, alright?"

Elanor's face fell, but she nodded. "Alright," she said, getting up and trudging to the door. She looked back before she left. "Promise I won't tell Uncle Zeb," she said with a faint smile.

"Thanks, kiddo," the Aviator said, blowing her a kiss. Once she'd shut the door, he let out a long string of swears, collapsing in her recently-vacated seat.

He pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it, staring glumly at the simple gold band.

The TARDIS hummed again.

"I know he does, baby," the Aviator sighed, lightly touching the ring. "I just gotta work up the courage first."

One character asks another to marry them, in any context possible (meaning in whatever context you want, though someone asking someone else to marry them anytime they get a chance is also an option...)

~Z

I'd say one would be good for indecisive folk like me, y'know?

They could definitely be themed! That'd help out a ton. Maybe a Christmas theme for now.

I'm thinking for the Prompters though, they could be anyone in the PPC who thinks they got a good prompt going on. What do you think?

I was thinking someone (more creative than I am) could announce a prompt every other week or so. I haven't quite planned who that person'll be (could be random), wanted to see if people would agree with the idea first, y'know? It'd be a post on the board every two weeks.

Though, if you've got a prompt on mind, shoot me.

And yeah! I'm a recent newbie, thunks for the croissants!

(I know the rambling struggle. One can never talk enough)