#cora writes

[saetiate]

“I want to get married.”

It’s a simple lunch cafe you and Leon are at today, Italian music in the background, cheesecakes in the glass shelves. You’ve been going here together for years, watched it burst in popularity and then dwindle, until it’s just you both and the regulars again, his car almost the only one in the car park.

That’s fine. Perhaps there’s nothing more beautiful than loving something before, through, and past it’s so-called prime.

Leon doesn’t react much, has learned to school his face well over the years despite anything he hears. But it does surprise him a little, showing in his hesitation, the careful way he notices his body. You do this sometimes to him — surprise him with how much you really love him. He knows you do in the way you worry for him, your trembling hands over his newly-made scars. He knows your love in your kisses and assurances and the way you would go to bat for him, even though it’s him that protects everyone else.

Hearing you admit how much you do is different, though. Sometimes he thinks you love in a way that means you don’t burden anyone else with it, like it’s best served in little bites, like you think it comes with the edge of a knife. Maybe with more time and coaxing, you’ll realize he’s more than ready to receive the entirety of it. That he doesn’t care about the package it comes in as long as it’s yours.

“Sure,” he respond simply, another bite of food entering his mouth, conversation like it’s the weather.

“Yeah?” You, like him, try not to reveal too much in your voice. But you sit up, heels on the ground, and your eyes are as bright as your heart.

(When did you both start reading each other so easily, a knowing learned and yet so inherent. Like how he knows his way around a gun, like he was born for this life — being here for the world, and loving you.)

“Yeah.” He takes your hand in his, runs his thumb over the top, makes the word have meaning. “Let’s get married.”

He says it like a promise, and with it a real weight, a knowing of what you’re both really saying — a world where you are both alive, have a future, make a life for yourselves. A jewel of hope despite everything, the kind of sweetness you can tuck in a pocket near your heart when the world inevitably goes to shit once more.

For that, it means everything.

[tanushakyrano]

Now it's finally out, here are my pieces for the thunderbirds au zine!!!! (WHICH YOU SHOULD GO AND CHECK OUT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY TO SEE ALL MY FRIENDS' WONDERFUL CREATIONS!!!!)

CHIVALRY: A SHADOWROSE AU

An AU inspired by the 1864 watercolour by Frederic William Burton: Hellelil and Hildebrand, the Meeting on the Turret Stairs. The painting depicts the final parting of two lovers, a lady and her bodyguard.

Surrounded and under siege from enemy troops, Lady Penelope and her faithful bodyguard Sir Kyrano are forced to make a final stand.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The clatter of hooves and the thunder of soldiers' feet on the cobbled courtyard below echoed up and up, filling the tiny turret room as if the entire battalion were crowded inside its very walls. As Penelope continued to gaze down, her eyes caught on the glimmer of the first rays of light on the knights' armoured helms. She was oft awake at dawn, but this morning - for the first time in her life - she cursed the encroaching sun. With every minute, the shadows retreated, illuminating the forces amassing below. A dozen mounted knights and fifty odd foot soldiers, armed with greatswords and pikes and longbows. A bannerman stood to attention at the front. The coat of arms of Belah Gaat's household was emblazoned on the banner, fluttering in the morning breeze.

The Tracy clan were renowned throughout the land for their skill in battle, but Penelope feared that the few of them hidden in this tiny outpost did not stand much of a chance.

Their party had been travelling back from the neighbouring lord's manor when they were ambushed in the woods. Some of their number had been slain, but they had survived and continued with haste to the border. To their horror, however, a further night raid had proven their assailants to be unafraid of pursuing them into home territory. They had taken refuge in the watchtower nearby - occupied only by a single man, since the reigning peace had rendered it useless as a military outpost for decades. By the following morning they were surrounded by a much larger force. For a while nothing had happened. Then, in the pitch of night, the invaders launched their assault. The cacophony had woken Penelope from her uneasy slumber. She had not been able to sleep since. Some time just before dawn, the enemy had breached the walls.

None of them had been able to ascertain any specific reason why Lord Gaat had decided to launch such an aggressive and hostile attack - on the Tracy's own land, no less. But motive meant nothing when they were all staring death in the face.

Behind her, her bodyguard was wearing a hole into the floor. She paced back and forth, her footfalls silent despite the chainmaille she wore and the blade on her belt. Kayo had been tasked by her adoptive brothers to protect Penelope whilst they repelled the enemy. Unhappy but understanding, she had acquiesced. She had spent the whole night even more restless than Penelope herself.

Penelope tore herself away from the sight below, turning to face her bodyguard. Kayo stopped pacing at her movement, pulled out of whatever foul thoughts were clouding her mind and meeting Penelope's eyes.

"How many are there?" she enquired. Her tone was anxious, tentative - as if she already knew and feared the answer.

Penelope paused, worrying her lip. "Too many."

"There is no chance at all?"

"I- " Penelope's hands twisted the fabric of her skirts. "I do not know. We are massively outnumbered, that is certain."

Kayo stepped over to the window, surveying the courtyard. One hand rested on the window ledge; the other caressed her sword. After a second, she turned back. There was something glimmering in her eyes which Penelope did not like.

"Kayo…"

"I have to help."

Penelope exhaled slowly. "You were tasked with protecting me. Virgil instructed you not to leave my side. You cannot." The unspoken message hung between them: you cannot leave me.

Kayo's gaze turned pleading. "That was before they breached our walls. They need every swordsman they can spare. Penelope…my love…I cannot stay here whilst my brothers are slaughtered below."

Her words stung deep. Penelope swallowed against the growing lump in her throat; when she spoke, her treacherous voice cracked, words splintering on her tongue. "You care more for them than for me?"

Kayo's eyes widened in horror. She rushed forward, taking one of Penelope's hands in both of her own and clasping it tight. "I do this for you! If we fail here, they will kill those able to fight and then- then, I do not know what they will do to the captured." She reached up with one hand, cupped Penelope's face; Penelope closed her eyes against tears, savouring the feel of her bodyguard's calloused touch. "I could not bear it if they took you. I will not let them."

"I would take my own life before that happens," Penelope swore fiercely.

"I know." Kayo's voice was more full of emotion than it had ever been before. "But I would do anything to prevent you from having to do such a thing. Which is why…you must let me go."

Penelope opened her eyes again. The tears which she had been keeping at bay finally fell, but she took no heed. She studied every inch of her lover's face, took in every tiny detail which she had long ago committed to memory. Kayo's eyes were greener than ever, shining in the way which she knew meant she was close to tears herself. Often Penelope would lose herself in them, their mossy depths so full of all the emotions the warrior in her so rarely expressed. She didn't know how she could ever live without seeing them again.

And yet she knew that there was only one choice to make.

"Very well." Two words had never hurt her more. They left her lips as scarcely more than a whisper. "Go. Defend us."

The barest smile graced Kayo's lips. "Thank you."

Sir Kyrano was almost at the door when Penelope called out her name again - one last desperate attempt to stall her, to stretch out the final moments they had together. Her feet acted of their own accord, following her lover to the door as if some arcane force were drawing them together. "Promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

It was Penelope's turn to grasp Kayo's hand. Her bodyguard looked taken aback by the fierceness of her gaze. "Come back to me alive."

It was a futile thing to ask, and they both knew it. Nothing so great as life could ever be guaranteed. They both knew that intimately - had both lost so much so young. And yet Penelope asked anyway.

Kayo nodded. "I promise."

They both knew the promise was hollow.

[lakesandquarries]

Tangled Up - Chapter One

for I am a tardigrade, and I'll stay at home

Benrey's spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff​ )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “tardigrade song” by cosmo sheldrake.

Happy valentines day!!! hope you enjoy <3

AO3 Link

This is not the first time Kane’s come to tied up. It’s not even the first time this week. However, it is the first time he’s come to tied up with ropes made of human hair, and the first time he’s come to with a fucking raccoon shoving its nose in his ear.

So maybe he screams a little. Anyone would! It’s a reasonable reaction. 

The hair around his wrists is a shiny blue-black, tough when he pulls at it. Is all hair like that? Is it one of those things that’s fragile individually but super tough all together? Seems like it, because it’s not even budging.

He’s so caught up that he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows until they’re holding out a crowbar, tilting up his chin.

“Yo,” they say, quiet and monotone. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Kane screams again.

They’re weird looking. Pale, really pale, to the point that Kane wonders if something is wrong with them, and with a dark shadow around their eyes like a bruise that makes him sure. They’ve got on a long dress, all dark blues and lace and fancy embroidery, the kind of thing you’d either have to be rich to buy or have a lot of spare time to make. Their eyes are a bright, bright yellow, almost glowing, sclera a pale blue, and their hair is the same blue-black as the hair around Kane’s wrists - oh, it’s the same hair, isn’t it? Fuck, it’s long.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guy says again. “You got, uh. ID? Passport?”

“Passport?” This is - this is insane. This cannot be happening. “What the fuck,” he mumbles, repeating it to himself a few times, “what the fuck, who - who are you?”

The man tilts his head up with his crowbar. "No, no. I asked you first. You're in my house, I ask the questions." His eyes narrow, almost translucent in the light. "What're you doing here? How'd you find me? You gonna steal shit?" His hand goes to his hair, tugging on the blue-black strands. "Gonna steal my hair?"

"Steal your - why would I steal your hair?" The crowbar is cold against his throat, pressing harder every time he speaks. "And aside from that, I'm not here to steal anything. I thought this place was empty so I could use it for - as a shelter! Happy now?" His tone stays steady, confident even, but his hands clutch at the armrests desperately.

“You - huh?” The crowbar pulls back, just enough that Kane’s head can drop, and he sucks in a deep breath while he still can. The crowbar moves away entirely for a moment, as the stranger steps aside to have a whispered conversation with his pet raccoon.

Yeah, this day is weird enough for that to seem normal. Between stealing the prince’s royal helmet, ditching his partner, getting chased by a guard dog, and now this - it’s certainly been a day. 

While the guy’s busy, Kane glances around, taking in the sights of the tower. It’s small. Homey. There’s a bed, a kitchen, a couch, bookshelves full of video games and a handful of books. The walls are covered, floor to ceiling, in paintings. When he looks up he realizes it’s not just the walls, the ceiling is painted too. Even the furniture has tiny doodles and carvings in it.

The crowbar slides against his throat again, cutting off his train of thought. "Is it just you?” the stranger asks. “No, uh. Backup? Not gonna...." he trails off, looking at his raccoon again, then back to Kane. "Who are you?"

He gives the man the best smile he can manage, under the circumstances, and says, “I’m Kane. Kane Radio.”

“Kane,” the man repeats. There’s a long pause where the two of them just stare at each other, before he finally adds, “Benrey.” Suddenly he tugs on his hair, pulling Kane closer to him and pushing the crowbar aside. “I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Uhh, yeah, could you get me out of your...hair, first? If that is your hair.” He doesn’t have time to make deals, and he doesn’t like the way Benrey repeated his name. Could he….? No, there’s no way. Kane’s been careful to erase any trace of Gordon Freeman. Of all people to blow his secret it’s not gonna be some random hermit living in a tower. He swallows, appreciating the lack of metal at his throat. “To be honest, I’d rather -”

Aaaand there goes the crowbar again. Shouldn’t have gotten confident. "You're lucky I'm gonna let you leave," Benrey says, voice low. Suddenly he doesn't seem like just a weird guy in a tower. Suddenly he seems like a threat. A choked yelp claws out of Kane’s throat as Benrey tugs on his hair again, pulling Kane close enough that he can see his unnaturally sharp teeth. "Wanna try that again?"

He barely processes the words, focused on the man - man?? - in front of him, the sharp teeth and glowing eyes and the crowbar pressing his throat shut, or maybe that’s just anxiety. It occurs to him that maybe this guy isn’t human. 

His smile is nowhere near its usual confidence, but he tries to grin anyway. “S-so, uh, what...what was that deal? Benrey?”

Benrey’s face splits into a grin, and suddenly he’s just...a guy again. A weird guy! A weird, unsettling guy, with eyes that are too bright and teeth that are too sharp and hair that is way too long, but a guy. The crowbar is lowered and Benrey steps back, clambering up his fireplace and pulling back a red curtain. Behind it is...a painting? Still semi-fresh, from the looks of it, in the same style that all the other paintings are. This one depicts the floating lanterns they do for the prince's birthday. There’s all sorts of colors, blue and silver and pink and green, and below the sky is a hill with a small figure on it with long black hair.

"You know what these are?" he asks, pointing a finger at a pink light.

Kane exhales slowly. Benrey’s gonna push that crowbar against him again any second now, so he might as well enjoy breathing while he can. Fuck, he’d almost rather go back outside and deal with the guard dog that chased him here. “Yeah,” he says, voice shaking, and he clears his throat before he continues. “The lanterns for the lost prince.” Is Benrey fucking with him? Everyone knows the lanterns. Kane’s never even been to a lantern ceremony himself but he still knows what they are. He’d need a serious head injury to forget that, and while his head hurts a bit it’s certainly not that bad. 

Benrey does not seem to be fucking with him, because he does a little cheer and fist pump. “I knew they weren’t stars,” he mumbles to himself, before turning back to Kane. Louder, he says, "I want you to take me there. To see 'em." He pulls the curtain back over and jumps down from the mantle, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. "Think you can manage that? Just there and back and I don't, uh. Y'know." He glances at the window. Kane follows his gaze, picturing Benrey launching his body out of it, and shudders. "Pretty good deal, I think."

Kane’s breath comes out in a panicked hiss.”W-well, that's not really a good idea right now, since I shouldn’t show my face in the kingdom right now considering I -" oh shit. "Oh shit. My satchel! Where is my satchel?!"

Benrey raises an eyebrow, smirking at him. “Oh, the bag thingy? I hid it. Mine now.” His smug face is the most infuriating thing Kane has ever seen, and he’d be throwing a punch if he wasn’t fucking tied to a chair. Benrey continues, "If you want it, you gotta earn it. You take me to the lanterns, I give you your satchel. Deal?"

Hid it. He said he hid it, so it’s….somewhere in here, probably, and once Kane realizes that it’s easy to figure out. He nods his head at a flowerpot. “It’s in there, huh?”

Benrey raises the crowbar again.

Oh, shit. “W-wait, no no no, no need to hit me!” He shuts his eyes, wishing he could move his arms to protect himself. He does not need any more head trauma, thank you very much. 

This guy really won’t hesitate to kill him, huh? This stupid deal is his only real option. Kane sighs, keeping his eyes shut. "L-look, I'll keep my eyes shut like this? And you can hide my satchel somewhere else. No peeking. I'll agree to the deal. Just - my head already feels like splitting."

A pause. Kane almost considers opening his eyes but keeps them shut. Finally he hears Benrey’s voice again. “No peeking,” he repeats. There’s a series of shuffling noises, bare feet and raccoon claws against the floor, and then a moment later: “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

The satchel is nowhere to be seen, without even a hint to where it might be hiding. He sighs, head dropping forward before he looks up at Benrey again. "If I'm gonna agree to this, let me ask at least one question. Why do you wanna see them so badly, and why would you need an escort for that?"

Benrey’s face goes blank. “Uhhhh,” is all he says, followed by a long pause, leaving Kane worried he broke him somehow, but finally Benrey continues. "That's, uh. None of your business. 's just - it's, uh, dangerous. Out there. For me. Need a....need a guide."

Huh. Sheltered, maybe? Benrey seems...well, a little off, to be blunt. He can’t be much younger than Kane is, but he doesn’t even know about the lanterns. Overprotective parent seems a likely answer, but whatever the reason, now’s not the time to pry. “Alright, yeah, none of my business. Okay. We go see the lanterns, come back, you give me the satchel, yeah? Deal?”

“Deal,” Benrey agrees.

“Okay. Does that mean you can untie me now?”

-----

The thing about spending 27 years in a tower, knowing that this is where you’re going to spend your entire life, is that when you get the option to leave it’s kind of the scariest thing imaginable.

Kane’s already climbed down, leaning against a tree while Benrey stands on the ledge. Physically, he’s ready. He’s got his hair wrapped around the lever, ready to swing down, ready to go, to get out of the stupid fucking tower and out into the real world, except -

Except -

“You are never leaving this tower.” Zeki’s hands are on his shoulder, nails digging in. “Do you understand?”

Benrey reaches back, trying to grab at the closet. “But -”

“The outside world isn’t safe for you. You aren’t safe for it. If you went outside, you know what would happen?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you.” She grabs his hand roughly, pulling him over to the mirror. “They’ll take one look at you, and they’ll know, and then what? You’ll fight back. You’ll hurt people. You’re dangerous.”

It’s nothing new, but. He thinks about the man he has stuffed into his closet. He didn’t hurt him. He’ll be fine! “But -”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You. Are not. Leaving. Ever. Do you understand me or not?”

He stares at the mirror, looking between himself and Zeki. She’s looked the same as long as he can remember, brown hair always pulled into a bun and dark green eyes, pale skin but not in the same way Benrey is pale. She’s human. He’s not. And she’s right, that anyone who looks at him is gonna know. That’s why he’s up here, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt him. And, more importantly, where he can’t hurt anyone else.

“I understand,” Benrey mumbles.

“Good.”

“I, uh. I thought of - I came up with something better. For a, uh. Birthday thingy.”

Zeki turns away from the mirror, towards Benrey. “Oh?”

“You got me that - the paint. Last year. The white one?”

“That’s a long trip,” she says, pursing her lips. 

“I won’t ask about the. The stars. Or going outside. Or anything of that. I’ll, uh -” He glances at the dresser, the one where she keeps her lab coat. “I’ll make up for it.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, sharp like her favourite knife. “Fine. I’ll get you the paint.” Her face softens as she places a hand on Benrey’s head. “I’m only doing this to protect you.”

“I know,” he mumbles, as she steps away to gather her things. “I know.”

“Benrey?” Kane yells. “Are you gonna move or what?”

He jumps.

The fall is intense. Wind in his hair, sun on his face, watching the ground get closer - oh that’s close. Oh that’s very close. He stops just a few inches off the ground, hesitating once again. There’s no going back from this. The grass is so much greener than he expected, bright and shiny in the sun, drops of dew still lingering, and before he can spiral further he puts his foot down. When nothing happens - no monster appears, no pit opens up and swallows him - he puts both feet on the ground, the blades of grass tickling him. 

A quick tug, and he pulls his hair down from the lever, watching it fall to the ground, and then joins it. The grass is still damp underneath him, but the sun above is warm. He’s getting covered in dew and dirt and bits of grass and he can’t find it in him to care, busy savoring the feeling he’s dreamed of for so long. 

It’s not until he stands up that he realizes the bulk on his hair landed directly on Kane. He starts shoving hair aside, Jefferem lending a set of tiny hands as extra help. “You good?” Benrey asks, as Kane’s head becomes visible.

Kane huffs, struggling to stand. “Apart from being attacked by your mane, yeah, I'm fine. Can you help me out?”

Benrey holds out an arm. Pulling Kane up proves easier than he thought, and he pulls a little too hard, almost slamming Kane into him, the two of them pressed together for a moment before  Kane coughs and steps back. Benrey takes a moment to half-heartedly brush some dirt and grass out of his hair and off his clothes, looking at Kane. “Guide time?”

Kane blinks at him, not bothering to clean off his clothing. “Uh - yeah. Guide time. Let’s go!” His steps are loud as he walks away. 

Benrey’s footsteps are almost inaudible as he follows, crowbar gripped tight in his hands. The initial adrenaline is starting to fade, doubt settling in. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s not too late to turn around and go back. 

He shakes his head. Lost in his own thoughts, he’s fallen behind, and he has to sprint to catch up. Hoping not to zone out again, he starts talking, letting the first thing he can think of fall out of his mouth. “The lights - the lanterns. You said they were for a...prince?”

They enter a small stone tunnel as Kane answers. His voice is soft. “Every year, on the prince’s birthday, the kings - and the whole kingdom - release a swarm of lanterns,” he explains, voice echoing. It turns theatrical as he continues. “See, their little boy was snatched away as a baby, by an evil wizard! Or...something like that, at least. They’re hoping the lanterns will bring him back.”

“On his birthday?” Benrey echoes. Weird coincidence. A moment passes while Benrey busies himself with touching the walls of the tunnel. “And they still haven’t found him? Why’re they still doing the lanterns if it doesn’t work?”

Kane’s voice is softer, more subdued when he responds. "The kings still have hope that their baby boy will return someday. It's a very human thing in my opinion."

Ah. Human thing. That explains why Benrey doesn’t understand.

Kane pokes his head through the ivy, waiting a moment before ducking back and lifting it to let Benrey through. “We’re clear.”

Raising an eyebrow, Benrey repeats, “Clear?” Is something following them, or is Kane just paranoid? Or maybe Benrey is reading too much into things. Maybe it’s normal to check for stuff like that. Not like he would know.

"Ah - well, I told you earlier, didn't I? The kingdom and I aren't... quite buddy buddy at the moment." As they walk, he keeps looking around, eyes darting back and forth. "But don't worry, it shouldn't be a big problem for our objective."

Oh. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to what Kane was saying earlier. Too late for that now, though. “So I was right? You a little - thief boy, huh? Stealing shit?” It’s mostly a guess, but he can’t picture this guy doing any real crime. His satchel probably had some stolen shit in it and that’s why he wants it back so bad. Well, better to team up with a criminal than a guard or something, considering all the rules Benrey’s breaking.

“Why do you keep insisting I steal shit?” Kane asks, looking away from Benrey. He doesn’t even give him time to answer, immediately following it with, “Hey, you hungry?”

Immediately changing the subject, huh? Now that’s suspicious. Admittedly he is a little hungry, and curious about where they’d be getting food out here. “Only if you’re not gonna steal it.”

Kane’s mouth screws up, eyes narrowing with a scoff. “I know a good place to get food. On our way, too. My friend works there.”

Oh shit, other people. He hesitates a moment before nodding. “Sure. Sure, yeah.”

Kane squints at him again. “You're not really an outside person huh? Have you...Have you ever been outside before?”

Damn, okay, just gonna straight up ask. Benrey opens his mouth to answer and then stops. “You answer my question first.” He’s not looking at Kane as he talks, eyes on the road ahead.

A groan in response, and then, “Fine, neither of us get an answer, then.” Kane picks up his pace, quickly getting ahead of Benrey.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Benrey mutters, rushing to catch up again. Kane’s anger surprises him. “I don’t care if you are. I’m breaking like....every rule possible just being here.” He pauses, scuffing at the dirt. “‘s all cool. Y’know. Be gay, do crime.”

Kane bursts into laughter, stopping in the road for a second. “Real rebel, huh?” he asks, shooting Benrey a grin that he returns nervously. “Fitting, then, for you to break out with a thief.”

Benrey’s grin widens, delighted. “Hah! I was right.”

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations, Blueberry.” The smile twists at the corners, as Kane leans closer to Benrey. “But that means we’re in my business now. So what about yours? You said you're breaking every rule right now. So... you weren't allowed outside that tower for some reason?”

That same empty expression makes a return as Benrey freezes. Twirling a strand of hair around his fingers, he clears his throat, forcing himself to start moving again. Walked right into that one, huh? And he’s not a coward, he’s not gonna refuse to answer after he finally got Kane to admit something. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I, uh. Yeah. Not allowed. Very not allowed.”

If Zeki knew what he was doing right now - she’d kill him. Worse than kill him. Beside him, Kane’s gaze is soft, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Well…” he starts, “sometimes, you just gotta do what feels right, even if it hurts or makes someone mad. Trust me on that, I know from experience.” To punctuate his last words, he nudges against Benrey’s arm, almost affectionate. Benrey jumps for a second, hand darting to touch the spot Kane had brushed against, almost expecting it to feel different somehow. But no, it’s just his arm. 

“Experience,” he repeats quietly. “Uh, yeah. I mean - I’m here.”

“That you are, Mr. Independent.”

[triptripletrolls]

if japhos cant pull a sheet from under a jenga tower with wine ontop using his ass cheeks is he even worth it

> In the split second between success and failure, your breath catches sharply and your young, black-filled eyes widen as you stare at the wobbly looming tower on the table in front of you. Your heart beats frantically; hope -- anticipation, feelings have been battling each other as you been practicing the art of sheet swiping for the past couple of night.

>The scene quickly changes as the Babel tower of Jenga blocks lift off from the base and comes crashing down on you. A loud gasps of "Bleep!" sounds out as the thin tin cup tonks down on your head and then the rain of wood blocks pellets down on your adolescent self. Failure reigns on your self esteem.

" Ack , sh!t why !" Rage starts to trickle in your mind and you kick at the wood blocks on the ground, scattering them all over the Mount Leaf Resort Hotel's dinning area. " Why can ' t ! get th!s r!ght ? I 've been d●!ng th!s for n!ghts and n!ghts and n!ghts but th!s stup!d tr!ck !sn ' t w●rk!ng . Fluffmum , y●u saw that , c●rrect ? ! d!d everyth!ng the fed sh●wed me . ! 'm supp●sed t● be the best at th!s stup!d g!g !"

> The gigantic beast of a lusus waddles toward you and to the field of painful-to-walk-on wood blocks. She tries to paw at you to come closer to her and avoid stepping on the blocks herself, but in your self absorbed rant, she ends up stepping onto the block field and towards you. You continue to rant as the lion-lamb open her large maw and bites you up from the scruff of your black long-sleeve shirt. She drags you away from the scene full of tables and chairs and of wooden blocks, crumpled up table sheet, and a lone tin cup. She takes you down a hall of closed down, and into a lounge area furnished with furnitures and a single TV. She continues on to her path to your personal block upstairs, adove your humble hotel, with you still chattering away at the failures of tonight and the previous nights' performance.

> There is no end to your vocal dismay and you let your lusus do whatever she wants to do and in the end, you are in your block with Fluffmum's fur now getting into your mouth as she curls up around you. She is comfortable and a lovely giant beast but you have so much to talk about. You analysed the fed video correctly. The surface of the jenga blocks are polished to lessen the friction. You done this and that, so why are you getting the sheet swiping so wrong?

> Fluffmum has no answers for you, but she just grooms your wild curl of hair and starts to rumble into a purr. It takes you a while, but you do respond in turn, purring back at your lusus as you ramble on and on about everything that has been stuffed into your mind.

[secretsanderssideblog]

@angsty-prinxiety-trash

What type of relationship: platonic and romantic Ships: prinxiety, logicality, poly Prompt 1(sfw): A day of laughter and fun at a park/lake (someone could end up in the lake) dancing under the moonlight. Prompt 2(sfw):  Waking up in the middle of the night to ask random questions with the sentence "I'm going to kiss you so you'll shut up now."

here’s my piece for the fic exchange! virgil perspective, pre-existing logicality and developing prinxiety. 

The sides go to a park. Roman gets in trouble.

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It's Patton's idea, of course. Or at least, it is at first.

“We should go to the park,” he suggests at breakfast one morning. “It's too nice out not to!”

“It's really not,” Virgil says, rolling his eyes at Patton's excited face. He's more like a puppy than a person.

“I, for one, think it's an excellent idea,” Roman says, shooting Virgil a look. He rolls his eyes again.

“We're gonna all get sunburned again.”

“Oh, quit being so negative, Dr. Gloom,” Patton says, refusing to be deterred. “We're gonna go to the park and have a good time and absolutely nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Which, of course, means something has to go wrong now. Sighing, Virgil drops his fork onto his plate. “Fine, fine. We can go,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. He glances over at Logan - surely he's not thrilled with the plan either? - but nope, Logan’s watching Patton with an uncharacteristically dreamy expression.

Ugh. Ever since they started dating, they were insufferable. Virgil’s glad he'll never be like that.

“Give me five minutes,” Roman says, running off to do who knows what. Sharpen his sword? Virgil’s not sure what kind of preparation could be necessary for a visit to the park. Patton’s packing a picnic basket, with Logan stopping him every few moments to gently take the pint of ice cream or entire head of broccoli from his hands and replace it with some apples or oranges and other actually edible things. Patton beams at him, giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, sweetie,” he says, and Virgil gags.

“Ready!” Roman yells, stepping out of his room, carrying a sword, because of course he is.

The park is only a five minute walk away, luckily. Virgil keeps a few feet behind the others (Roman with his ridiculous sword and Patton and Logan holding hands) and hopes no one realizes he's with them. Patton and Logan are too sappy to look at directly. It's like staring at the sun, but with more lovey-dovey glances. Instead, Virgil follows Roman, watching his footsteps.

He's definitely not looking at Roman’s butt. Absolutely not.

When they get to the park, Virgil has to admit Patton was right. It's warm, but with a breeze, so he's not overheating in his hoodie, but he's not cold either. The sky is the colour of Patton's shirt, soft white clouds dotting across it. Best of all, there's not many people at the park, just a handful down by the lake throwing bread to the ducks.

Patton catches Virgil glancing at the picnic basket and grins, pulling several loaves of bread from the basket. “This one’s for ducks,” he says, tossing a whole grain loaf to Virgil, who smiles tentatively back.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. Virgil sits cross-legged on the grass, ripping up the bread into small pieces before throwing it at the ducks, who quack enthusiastically. When he turns he can see Patton do the same, Logan half hiding behind him.

“Something wrong?” Virgil asks, snickering at the fearful look on Logan’s face.

“It bit me,” Logan says unhappily. Patton kisses his cheek.

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” he says, voice so sweet that Virgil can't deal with it anymore. He looks away from the two, trying to find Roman.

It doesn't take long. He's battling a goose. Not only that, he's losing. His white outfit is covered in mud and the goose is honking fiercely at him. He's putting up a good fight, at least, dodging the bird’s attempts to bite him and punching it a couple times, but the goose has him cornered. He's close to the water, standing on the ledge that separates the lake from the land.

“Go away!” he shouts, brandishing his sword. The goose takes another step closer to him, Roman takes a step back, the goose follows, and Roman falls into the lake.

Virgil doesn't think. He jumps to his feet, jumping into the lake after Roman without hesitation.

The water is dark and cloudy. It's not too deep, but it's deep enough that standing is impossible. The bottom feels miles from the surface, and the bottom is where Roman’s stuck. His foot’s caught on something, a tree root, and the wood’s so waterlogged that Roman’s sword is doing nothing. He looks at Virgil, panic and desperation in his eyes. It’s cold, to the point that it burns, knives darting across his skin with each movement. 

Virgil swims over to him, trying to free him, but it's hard when he can’t breathe and can barely see. He can’t feel his hands and his hoodie is weighing him down, heavy in the water. His lungs burn.

Virgil pushes and pulls and nudges and finally, miraculously, Roman is unstuck. He seems in better shape than Virgil somehow, wrapping his arms around him and kicking off the lake floor to resurface.

Who knew air could taste so good? Virgil takes a deep, desperate breath, then another, thinking over what he just did.

He could have drowned.

Roman takes him by the arm, pulling him to the shore, then up onto the bank so only his legs are still submerged. The air is freezing, but it’s a thousand times better than the icy lake. 

“You saved me,” Roman says softly.

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Virgil asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn't like me.” Roman’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. Normally he’s so loud and confident - it’s odd hearing him this way.

“That's called ‘jumping to conclusions’. I never said that.” 

“So you do like me, then?”

“Maybe,” Virgil says.

Roman turns, studying Virgil's face like a new script. “Can I…” His voice drops, and he pauses. “You're the real hero, you know.”

“Am I?”

“You saved the prince. The real hero of any good fairytale has to save someone.”

“More of a damsel in distress than a prince, right now,” Virgil says, and to his surprise, Roman actually laughs.

“Well. Prince in distress.” He smiles confidently. “And you know what damsels in distress and their saviors usually do, right?”

“....Kiss?” Virgil asks, confused, then realizes what Roman means. “Oh.” Roman goes red. Virgil feels his face go hot, realizing Roman’s been flirting with him this whole time.

“I mean - only if you want to, you know, I don't want to - I mean I don't mean to be pushy, I just -”

“I'm going to kiss you so you'll shut up now,” Virgil says, and he does. It's a few moments of bliss, between Roman's lips being too busy kissing his to talk and the warmth of the sun on their backs and the overwhelming sense of peace in Virgil’s heart.

It doesn't go away when they stop kissing, or when they return to Patton and Logan for the former's bizarre lunch, or even after the sun goes down.

There's a warmth in his heart that night as Virgil holds Roman's hands, slow dancing with him under the soft gaze of the moon, and Virgil thinks it's happiness.

[saetiate]

leon kennedy x f!reader. pov super hot guy steals your car, swears he’s a federal agent, runs a red light, and saves your life. meet cute/meet ugly, fluff & humor, 1k words

A crazy man with a fringe in a black jacket stands in front of your car just as the green light beckons. You step on the brakes centimeters from him.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"Miss, I'm sorry, but I need your car."

"Excuse me?"

He grabs on your arm hard, hard enough that you wonder if it'll break as he pulls you out of your door. And in pure spite, you open the door behind the driver's seat before he can pull away, barely making it into the backseat. Leon almost stops the car entirely, but he doesn't have time. "What the hell are you doing in the car?"

"This is my car!"

Leon schools himself with a few deep breaths. In, out. "Look, miss. This is a federal emergency. I just need to borrow your car, and I need you to get out of the car." Leon swerves around the next car, running a red light. Definitely not cop behavior.

"Give me one good reason to believe you."

Leon aggressively pulls his badge off his belt and shows it to you.

You could almost roll your eyes. "Yeah, like I'm gonna believe that. You can get those at the Dollar Tree." You click open your phone.

"What are you doing?" He tries to glance back despite the fact that he should be focused on the road.

"I'm calling the police!"

"I'm the police!"

It's a half truth, he's a government agent, but he'll say whatever he needs to say to get you out of the car.

"Yeah, fucking right."

Leon grabs your phone out of your hand. "Leon Kennedy, DSO, badge number 0635. Disregard this call, I'm on comms with my handler who will get in touch, thanks." He ends the call, drops your phone into your lap and you barely catch it as it bounces with the next speed bump that he flies over. "Sherry!"

"Who the fuck is Sherry? Are you seeing things?"

Leon points aggressively to the earbud in his ear, but you're still looking at him like he's the crazy one.

"Watch out!" You point at the road in front of him, where Leon hits a guy square in the stomach with your car. Fuck, no way in hell insurance is going to cover that, let alone the police. Except the guy gets up, pale as a ghost, makes a groaning noise as he scrambles over your car.

"What the hell is that?!"

Leon doesn't listen to you, just pushes your head down so he can see behind and reverses back, before accelerating hard and running over the guy.

Fuck, okay. On the one hand, you just watched a guy commit murder right in front of you. On the other, it definitely was an act of self defense. That guy on the road was crazier than the guy in your car. In fact, you might even feel inclined to be a bit endeared by it. "Oh, dude. We gotta get out of here."

"You need to get out of the car."

"This is my car."

"You just saw that thing, didn't you?" Leon's hands tighten around the steering wheel. "Where I'm going, there's going to be way more of those."

"Look, I don't care that you're crazy. But I'm not leaving a clearly vulnerable person alone in this situation. You and I, we're getting out of this. You need to reverse the hell out of here."

He's not a— He wants to protest against you again, except you're right, there's no way he's going to be able to slam your car through the hoard of monsters that's now making its way through the road. Okay, reversing sounds like a great idea, actually. This time, you duck so he can see behind him, only to find exactly what you find when you look back — they're coming through to you from there, too.

"We're surrounded." Leon exhales, deflated. He looks down to check on you, to reassure you, only to find you taking deep breaths.

"Okay. Okay." You grip your hands into little fists in your lap. "I need you to listen to me. How good of a shot are you?"

Why are you acting like — "I'm a great shot," Leon almost scoffs.

"I need you to open the glove compartment. I'm trusting you, do not shoot me. I have a gun in there you can use."

"I have a gun." He slides his jacket open and wow, he's got muscles for days — he has a gun slid right against his side.

"You have a gun??"

"I'm a federal agen- Were you listening to anything I just said?"

"You're serious about that?" You hear a crash to your left, and glance up from where you're crouched in the backseat to see a sickly-looking person slamming a bat into the glass of a shop. You flinch like you can already feel how you might be next. "Oh my god, please just get me my gun anyways."

"You don't need to use it. I can protect you." He does as you say anyway, metal cool in his hand as he passes it to you.

"Yeah? Like cops protect people of color in this country? I'll take my chances with my gun, thanks."

There's another crash, this time to the window of the parked car next to you as the alarm starts to blare, dragging the attention of the other monsters.

"Listen to me." Leon's voice is low, serious, laced with a kind of danger that makes your heartbeat louder than it should. "Stay close, stay quiet. We're going that way." He uses two fingers to point to the direction he was driving. "I know a place."

"Usually, men buy me dinner before they say that."

Leon looks at you, you look at him. He doesn't smile, but there's a ghost of a smile there, like amusement layered under impending doom.

"Wow, tough crowd," you sigh. "We're about to die, and you can't even pretend to laugh at my joke?"

"A safe house," Leon continues. "It hasn't been used for a while, but it should buy us some time."

"Fine, fine." You breathe, like you have a choice.

"Hey." Leon tilts your chin towards him, until you're looking right at him. "We're going to be okay. Just follow my lead, okay? Stay close." He flits his gaze down to your gun, then back at you. "And don't shoot me."

thank you for reading as always!!

OKAY how do we feel about turning this into a full fic / a part 2. and if it does get a part two you might see it again since i might have to reupload this part to put the full fic together so will you promise to read it again pretty please T^T okay love you!! i think it works as a standalone!!

[saetiate]

meet cute with sae at an airport lounge that is really crowded and the only available spot to sit is across from him and you’ve been wondering why it seems people have been giving him a bit of a wide berth but it’s because he’s itoshi sae. he looks up from under his hat in surprise and also kind of annoyed when you ask to sit across from him but he allows it since you seem polite. keeping to your side of the table, not really talking to him.

it’s so fucking annoying that your phone keeps buzzing though, vibration against the glass table that’s making him have a headache even worse than he already is from the crowd. he’s pretty gruff when he tells you to shut that off. you’re all apologetic when you tell him it’s your ex-boyfriend, who’s clearly being really adamant.

“Just block him.”

“I already blocked him on everything, he’s using my friend’s account.”

“Block them too.”

You inhale deep, exhale. “I’m trying to be an adult and have a proper conversation, since he’s gone to these lengths.”

“And?”

“…He said that he could get a girl prettier and better than me any day, so I should be grateful he’s even here.”

Sae’s got an idea, one that he probably shouldn’t execute. God knows his manager is going to want to kill him, not that it matters. But it’s too hot and too overstimulating in this lounge right now, and having your phone finally stop would be a small blessing at this rate.

He takes his jacket off, pulling on his shirt until the top button loosens. “Take a picture with me.”

Huh? “What?”

“Take a picture with me, post it on your story, and then turn off your phone.”

You blink at him. God, how dense can you be? He almost wants to roll his eyes, instead he just sighs like you’re holding up a queue.

“Give me your phone.”

You oblige, which perhaps in hindsight later on, you might realize that couldve been a dangerous act if it was anyone else. Sae pulls your arm instead, until you’re close enough to feel his body warmth, and then takes your phone and snaps a picture.

You don’t even get to really look at it, he posts it himself and turns your phone off for you, drops it in his own bag.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“You can have it after takeoff.”

“Excuse me??”

[saetiate]

“I thought,” there’s a flash of gunfire as Carlos holds his arms up, a sound of something almost zooming past before he gets to it, “she didn’t know how to fight.”

“What?” Leon’s not faring much better, down to the bullets in his handheld, but he gets the angle perfect, and the next monster goes down. “She wouldn’t have been in the briefing if she couldn’t.”

“Then why’d you call her princess?”

“Because —,” because she’s demanding, and difficult. And because it makes her flush and because she’s mine. A host of things sit on his tongue in this too-tense moment.

Carlos, ever-bright, clicks the hesitation immediately. “Oh, you’re seeing her?”

Leon exhales, both in relief and in fear, a secret held close out in the open. “Yeah.”

“So it’s a sex thing."

Carlos tilts his gun and reloads, the metal in his hands moving with an easy grace, and props his weapon back up against his shoulder. "Got it.”

"It's—," Leon’s walk almost falters, trips on flat ground in the dark hallway. “It's not a sex thing.”

Carlos acts like he didn't say anything, smirking despite himself as he gives Leon a sly look. “She make you get down on your knees and call her that?”

Leon barely escapes the next monster, rolls just to dodge before both he and Carlos shoot it at the same time. He's so relieved that when he hears your voice crackle over the intercom, saying coast is clear on our end, it rolls off his tongue to click and respond with — “thanks, princess.”

He hears Carlos' laugh bounce against the walls, and Leon looks up and sighs, an edge of a smile graced across his lips. At least the zombies stop eventually, he's not so sure whether he's going to get to hear the end of this.