★ pick someone you want to play with and put it in the subject. ★ feel free to request if you don't see 'em on the list. (muse strength may vary) ★ leave a pic/prompt/whatever ★ stuff ★ have fun!
[ maybe leon should invest in clothing that isn't entirely made from leather. or maybe he shouldn't, because it's not every day that riku gets treated to the sight of seeing leon two-stepping and pirouetting his way into the kitchen. there's something about it that makes it look extra ridiculous, maybe it's that serious look on his face while he's doing it -- the scar is the perfect touch. he has to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing; if only sora was awake to see it, he might lay off on calling leon old.
in any case, after leon makes his way in, there's a moment of awkward silence as they stare each other down. eventually, riku slides a plate of toast, eggs and bacon across the counter towards him like some sort of peace offering. don't mention who cooked and i won't say a word about the dancing. ]
[ the silence is indeed an awkward one, but at least it's silence. leon can only imagine what it would be like had sora been the one to greet him....
he represses a shudder at the thought, and instead continues the little stare-down. blue on green. a perfect stalemate ... thankfully broken, when riku slides a plate across the counter.
leon nods; half in acknowledgment, half in agreement to the silent pact. if riku wants to keep his dawn activities quiet, leon certainly isn't going to argue.
he crosses into the kitchen proper — walking normally, now — and takes a seat across from riku. his mouth waters slightly as he breathes in the freshly cooked meal. normally, leon simply grabs a protein shake (mixed the previous night) and continues on his morning. a breakfast like this is definitely a treat.
not that leon actually says that. instead, he takes a bite, savors the delicious crumble of bacon, the perfect way it hits his tongue, and mutters: ]
... This is good.
[ the highest of praise, said in the flattest of tones. ]
[ while leon takes his first bite, riku digs into his own plate of pancakes as that familiar flicker-flash of insecurity creeps up his neck. it's an old feeling, one that he sometimes can't completely shake off despite the fact that he's mostly grown out of it, has done enough to prove that he's not the same dumbass he was at 15. but he's still 18 years too young and still trying to mold himself to fit his body that sometimes seems a little too big for him, caught in the awkward limbo of being an adult and being a kid. there's more responsibilities pressing on his shoulders now; he's only managed to finally accept himself recently, but he's got another set of expectations waiting for him to live up to.
(was he once so young? eight years old and ankle-deep in the sand, bright-eyed and dreaming of what lay beyond the horizon. those days seem so far away now, after everything that happened. years spent in the darkness are like dog years; they count for more because they demand more. more pain, more sorrow, more regret.)
leon's praise makes him look up though, and he holds back the initial instinct to shrug, nodding instead. ]
Thanks.
[ it's a little hard to mess up bacon and eggs, he thinks. he's no gourmet chef but he also had to feed himself during those days of playing double agent, so he supposes there's no room for him to talk. ]
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bless lj juggler
in any case, after leon makes his way in, there's a moment of awkward silence as they stare each other down. eventually, riku slides a plate of toast, eggs and bacon across the counter towards him like some sort of peace offering. don't mention who cooked and i won't say a word about the dancing. ]
no subject
he represses a shudder at the thought, and instead continues the little stare-down. blue on green. a perfect stalemate ... thankfully broken, when riku slides a plate across the counter.
leon nods; half in acknowledgment, half in agreement to the silent pact. if riku wants to keep his dawn activities quiet, leon certainly isn't going to argue.
he crosses into the kitchen proper — walking normally, now — and takes a seat across from riku. his mouth waters slightly as he breathes in the freshly cooked meal. normally, leon simply grabs a protein shake (mixed the previous night) and continues on his morning. a breakfast like this is definitely a treat.
not that leon actually says that. instead, he takes a bite, savors the delicious crumble of bacon, the perfect way it hits his tongue, and mutters: ]
... This is good.
[ the highest of praise, said in the flattest of tones. ]
no subject
(was he once so young? eight years old and ankle-deep in the sand, bright-eyed and dreaming of what lay beyond the horizon. those days seem so far away now, after everything that happened. years spent in the darkness are like dog years; they count for more because they demand more. more pain, more sorrow, more regret.)
leon's praise makes him look up though, and he holds back the initial instinct to shrug, nodding instead. ]
Thanks.
[ it's a little hard to mess up bacon and eggs, he thinks. he's no gourmet chef but he also had to feed himself during those days of playing double agent, so he supposes there's no room for him to talk. ]
There's more on the stove if you'd like seconds.