#Ali on Writing.

[mystalwartheart]

🎨

I'll do two to cover all bases: One for Resident Evil canon in general, and one for my rewritten backstory and lore.

For non-fans:

A B.O.W., or Bio-Organic Weapon, is basically a zombie supersoldier. They are corpses of living creatures who died infected with a manufactured carrier virus and reanimated with enhanced strength and vitality. They're meant to be the perfect soldiers, with just enough cognitive functions to fight and obey orders without question, but there's about a 50/50 chance of this actually working as intended.

They are the main "grunt" enemies faced in Resident Evil (though each game will attempt its own spin on the concept), always created (deliberately or by mistake) by the series' main antagonists: Colonialist European Eugenics movements.

For fans:

The major differences between my version of events and canon are that RE5/Lost in Nightmares didn't happen, Wesker is killed off for real by Tyrant during The Mansion Incident and Jill saves Ashley during the events of RE4. Jill and her comrades also still work for S.T.A.R.S., which is 100% heroic and a multilateral force affiliated with NATO, in a combination of the backstory of S.D. Perry's novel line with inspiration I drew from real-world history and the Tom Clancy Rainbow Six and Ghost Recon series.

And Jill's blonde just 'cause XD

Individual details will change verse to verse - including the nature of RE2/3/Outbreak - but these core details remain consistent no matter the AU and are the key things that set my take on Jill, Ash and RE apart.

[andthemouseroared]

Something I love about Ashley (at least the way she's coming together for me) is that she's very much your sweet, pure innocent Final Girl and kind of a princess who'll totally be the heart of your team, but she's also a disaster, 100% a dorky punk rocker and may or may not actually be god. Maybe. Possibly.

I just think that's very sexy of her.

[bejillsvalentine]

Jill's pyjamas and underthings are super girly, but in the manner consistent with the time and place in which she lives: It's not like she's rocking cartoon character PJs, but they're feminine and soft in both texture and colour. Probably pink, and not even hot pink this time!

It's a metaphor for who Jill is: She's a seasoned veteran special forces operative, but she's also just a normal girl from LA who does normal girl things. There's an inherent gentle and sensitive core to her that, paradoxically, has led her to become one of the most decorated soldiers in the world. It's not something she hides, but she believes there's a time and place for everything.

Her softness is always there, waiting for the right person to reach out and touch it.

[thoughtcascades]

Im such a I want your attention but don't want to annoy you person.

[perfectfeelings]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[confusionmeisss]

can you watch my boyfriend, please? - m. sturniolo

🫧 matt sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 the “can you babysit my boyfriend” tiktok couples trend with matt!!

🫧 just fluff.

🫧 549 words.

🫧 hi lovelies!! thank u so very much for wanting to read! this trend is so cutie to me, and i initially did a chris version of this & it made me want to do one for the others (nick version) as well, so i did!! i hope you enjoy reading bc they were very fun to write!! <3 masterlist

“Hi guys.” Matt looks up from his phone at the sound of your voice. “Can you watch my boyfriend, please? I just need to run into the store real quick, I’ll be back soon, I promise!” You say propping your phone up on the dashboard.

He watches as you open the car door and step out, shutting it softly after. His confused eyes follow your figure as it walks into the convenience store.

“Uhh,” he mutters out, looking into the camera. “I don’t- I’m-”

He looks down at his phone, his fingers doing a little dance across the screen. He lets out a small breath before he looks back up.

“Did you guys know that bees don’t have bones? I mean I’m pretty sure it’s well known at this point, but I just wanted to share in case you didn’t, well, y’know, know.”

A silence fills up the car for what feels like an eternity to Matt, but is only a few seconds. He looks down at his cup holder.

“Oh,” he lets out softly. “Chris left one of his Skittles Littles in here. You guys want some?” He asks, popping the top open, and pouring some into his palm. He then holds the candy container to the camera.

“Oh, did you also know that dogs can have pineapple, but only in moderation! Of course Trevor’s fatass doesn’t like pineapple,” he adds with a laugh.

Silence fills up the car once more as Matt munches on Chris’ forgotten Skittles. “He’s gonna be pissed at me when he finds out I ate his candy, but I don’t really give a fuck. I think I bought these for him actually.”

“Okay, wait, but I’m seriously running out of things to write for my Instagram captions. I think I’m just gonna abandon them or resort to using random ass emojis.”

Matt looks over at the sound of the passenger door opening, and you getting in setting a plastic bag down at your feet.

“What’d you buy?” He asks.

“Candy and cherry Arizona ice tea,” you reply with a grin, reaching for your phone. “Anyway, thanks for watching him for me, guys! I hope he was good for you.”

“‘Course I was good,” Matt mumbles out.

You chuckle. “‘Course you were, my love,” you reassure, placing a kiss on his nose, laughing at the way it scrunches up at the action. That’s the last thing the camera captures before the recording ends.

—

comments

he was a lil nervy at first, but once he warmed up he told us some fun facts. did eat his brothers candy, but told us he payed for it. 10/10 would babysit again 😊

trevor mention lesgooo 🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️

i feel like chris forgetting his candy has the same effects as him forgetting his pepsi, but slightly less severe

thank u for the skittles matthew! <3

oh he was so cutie for offering us some candy 🥺

nose scrunch ahhh 🥹💓

brief mattitude there at the end i see 🤭

ur so real for the insta caption thing. it’s so tiring having to think of them

hey god it’s me again..

the anxiety/nervous keyboard finger dance, REAL

i want what they have so bad but i won’t get it, so i’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight 😁

[wishfuldivine]

The 141 kissing Gaz's nose every time he cringes at something?

John can't contain it much. Gaz looks absolutely fucking adorable when his sergeant cringes at a movie that is so cliché for his liking. The captain leans forward and pecks his cute nose.

Johnny does anything to make him cringe. Even goes as far as eating with his mouth open, the Scot knows how much he despises it. The sergeant laughs and coos, planting a kiss to his cute nose.

Simon is more subtle. He says the most cringe dad jokes ever, and the sergeant just STARES while cringing to no end. The lieutenant chuckles and presses his lips onto his cute nose.

[thoughtkick]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[always-coffee]

To a Drowning Man

Here is the weight of a heart:

            dreams gone ragged at the edges,

faded and frayed, the ghost of hope

rather than her full splendour,

            and yet,

it’s enough, isn’t it? She sings

still, not siren but lullaby,

a reminder of strength

in darker times,

            a hand offered

without expectation, just steady

and steady on—

            the constant promise

of softness, breath

to a drowning man

who has ignored his own drowning—

sometimes, love is this

potential:

            glimmer unexpected,

            gentleness unasked for,

a silhouette standing in shadow,

            imperfect heart

shining, a torch song

                        burning

against the dark.

[achaoticeternal]

bewitched.

AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER

summary: more word has arrived to you regarding your husbands infidelity. as he returns to you, you present him with a choice.  word count: 2k warnings: drinking. strong language. angst. adultery. pain. a/n: see end of the piece for author’s note

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

choose your own ending...

— ending 1.

— ending 2.

— ending 3.

— ending 4.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“My lady,” Your chambermaid spoke from the doorway, returning with a fresh pitcher of wine as you had requested, “Should I see the children to bed?”

“Please do,” Your voice was soft, the words fragile in your solemn state.

“It might be best for you to rest, rather than await the return of Prince Aemond.”

Her words were gentle, simply advising you to take care of yourself. But the fires of hurt and betrayal were already lit. 

“What makes you believe that I am awaiting my husband?” With words more venomous than you intended, you bid her leave.

At the sound of the door shutting, you stood and moved toward the pitcher and chalice left idly by the fireplace. You poured the deep red liquid and lifted the cup to your lips, taking a generous gulp.  The dull burn allowed some relief to your heightened senses. But you also knew that the alcohol only added fuel to your fire. 

Rain began to pour over King’s Landing, softly thudding against the windows and stone of the castle walls. Usually, the rain would lull you to sleep, but it seemed the thunder of the skies only spurred you to continue drowning away the ache in your heart. Your eyes flickered over the second chalice that had been placed on the silver tray with your pitcher. It seemed that the servants expected Aemond to return to the Keep tonight. You were not sure if you wish for him to return or for him to drown in the heavy rains that poured from the sky. 

As if the fool perfectly timed you, you glanced out the window to see the silhouette of Vhagar descending toward the Dragon Pits. In a drunken frenzy, you pulled the curtain to cover it, instead, the velvet fabric came down at your harsh tug. 

The frustration would nearly boil over, but you did not allow the simple issues to push you over the threshold. As the Queen had often advised you, it was important that a lady bite her tongue and keep her composure even when she is by her lonesome. If someone saw the illusion of a proper lady shatter, it would be nearly impossible to recover from. She even revealed to you how she had come by this knowledge, sharing with you the events that occurred the night Aemond became the one-eyed prince.  

Swiftly, you moved back toward the fireplace, picking up the parcel that a raven had delivered directly to you just this morning. It appeared blank to the simple eye, but when you hovered the note over the fire, the message revealed itself. The contents of it were simple, but completely shattered something inside of you:

She is with child. 

Though the news had shocked you, the existence of the other woman did not. When Aemond and Daeron laid siege to Harrenhal and the Riverlands, word had traveled through the courts regarding the princes bedding other women. At the time, you had bit your tongue, excusing your husband’s infidelity as you convinced yourself it was just something he used to relieve his stress from battlefields. 

But even after the marches through the Riverlands were claimed to be successful and at an end, Aemond would sometimes fly off to Harrenhal. He would say that he was just ensuring the hold that the Greens had on the region, yet you never believed his lies. 

It was said that Harrenhal was cursed, blood mixed into the stone that built it. You believed the stories true after the great fire took the lives of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin when you were a child yourself. But now a curse had attached itself to your husband and kept him crawling back to the towers of Harrenhal. 

The door cracked open, the hinges creaking as he entered, exhaustion painted over his face. Aemond was completely drenched, his hair now scrunched into waves rather than falling perfectly straight. Most of his leather overlayer had been discarded for the servants to see to, leaving him in a black tunic and pants with his riding boots.

It took him a few moments, but Aemond quickly came to realize that you were resting by the fire rather than fast asleep in your shared bed. 

“Should you not be sleeping, dear wife?” Aemond called out to you while readying himself to turn into bed. 

“Sleep has… escaped me recently,” You replied, eyes remaining on the fire. Only at his words did the nerves begin to spur inside you. How would he react when you told him? What would tomorrow bring? None of it really mattered, you supposed, as long as you didn’t allow your nerves to get the best of you. 

Now in his proper bedclothes, Aemond began to approach the fireplace. He noticed the half-empty pitcher of wine, slightly shocked that you were partaking this late at night. Usually, you would reserve yourself to only enjoying wine at dinners or feasts, not in your marriage chambers. His eye flickered to the second chalice that sat empty on the silver platter. His slender fingers reached to grasp it, “Would this cup be for me?”

You turned your head, looking between the pitcher and chalice but never into his eye, “The maid brought it with her, probably as a formality. No one expected you back tonight.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed at the tone you spoke with, and it caught the prince off guard when you returned your gaze to the fire rather than continuing to speak with him. He poured his own chalice with wine and allowed himself to enjoy it. He stayed in place, unwavering from his position as he looked down on you.

The air went still… the taste of the wine began to sour in his mouth. He sensed something to be out of place, yet he could not pinpoint it. Usually, you would be elated to see him, but recently you were far more reserved from your husband. Aemond was not sure if he should be upset or concerned, but did not ponder on the thought too much as he allowed himself to attend to his duties rather than his wife. 

With a sigh and a light cough to clear his throat, the prince finally spoke once more, “Come to bed…”

The pause settled again before your soft chuckle hung in the air. Quickly, you stood from your seated position and drowned the remainder of your chalice in one swig. You moved to the table and refilled your cup till the pitcher ran dry. Instead of crossing to your bed, you remained standing, only turned away from the man. This behavior caused Aemond to clench his jaw, subduing his urge to correct such disobedience. 

“Will you not come to bed with me?” Aemond summoned you again. 

Once more you chuckled at him, not sparing him any sort of look from you. Just the cruel chuckle of your acknowledgment. 

“Your husband demands—”

“My husband demands me of nothing,” You interrupted him, “And he would do well to find another bed to sleep in or find himself in tonight.”

At your words, Aemond crossed toward you, attempting to snatch the half-drunk chalice of wine from your hands, “It seems you have overindulged yourself. It would do you well to sleep before—”

“Before what? Before I continue to act out of turn?” With a fierce determination, your fingers clutched down onto the chalice so that Aemond could not separate it from you. Your words dripped with poison, “Or before you return to Harrenhal and bed the whore witch?”

At the mention of Alys, both you and Aemond let go of the goblet at the same time and simply watched it fall to the ground, red liquid covering the tile floors. 

“It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know or understand.”

“I understand it quite plainly that my husband is now an adulterer, just like his eldest brother and his damned uncle. It seems that disloyalty to marriage is quite a common trait among Targaryen men.”

Quickly, Aemond’s hand came to your throat, gripping the flesh to show how serious he was being, yet not hard enough to asphyxiate you, “Did you not understand my words before, my stupid little wife? It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know…”

“Oh? But I do know…” Your hands grabbed at his forearms, nails sinking into the flesh so that he would release you, “And it would do you well to learn just how smart your wife is…”

“I have known… I have known about Alys since your first rampage through the Riverlands. For moons, I remained confined to the Red Keep from your orders, and when they came to deliver news of you and your victories, I cheered. I still cheered when the maids told me the rumors between you and Alys, because I was grateful to the Seven that you were alive. Because I was still foolish enough to love you far more than you deserve.”

Tears threatened to spill over, but you swallowed them back. You would not allow Aemond the pleasure of your tears, only the fire of your anger. 

“She promised me security for my life and the lives of my men,” Aemond attempted to justify himself, “I could not risk it—”

“You could have offered her gold, offered her a title, or anything else besides your body! Instead, you break your vows. And you did not stop there, because you continue to fly back to Harrenhal whenever you desire the witch’s cunt to the point where your son and daughter could not even recognize you if they ever saw you!” You huffed out, scanning his face for any sign of emotion, anything at all.

“You have allowed your lust to overcome you, disappointing your wife, your mother, and the Seven. Worst of all, you shall now have your own bastard. At least this bastard will not be raised of the Street of Silk as your brother’s bastards have.”

“How did you know?” Aemond’s voice cracked while he asked the question, “How do you know she is pregnant?”

A smirk played on your lips at the question, “It seems that the Master of Whispers is a very devoted friend of the Queen, and with the Queen being your mother, she deemed it important enough to share the news with me, your faithful wife.”

His face went pale at the realization of how many people were aware of his infidelity. While Aemond remained silent, you twisted the knife deeper into his chest. You had been tortured with this knowledge for so long that you now enjoyed the pained expression on his face.

“I have always been good to you, devoted to you. Where others cowered from you, I loved you. Despite the warnings of your blood lust and deformity, I loved you and gave you two perfect children who study just as diligently as you once did. So while you found yourself in the arms of another woman, I tried not to curse your name and assure our children that all was well, even if their father would not be present for them. But now, I look at you like a curse upon my life. You have allowed yourself to be corrupted outside our marriage, and I can no longer offer you salvation for your selfishness…”

“What would you have me do?”

You laughed mockingly at his question. Instead of providing a proper answer, you only glared further into his good eye.

“Please,” Aemond gritted his teeth, hating that he allowed himself to beg an answer from you, “Just tell me what I should do!”

“I can not simply tell you what to do. That would be to easy - what lesson would you have learned?” You shook your head and a shuddering breath escaped you.

“You have to make a choice, Aemond,” Your hand gripped his wrist, forcing him to remain attentive to your words, “Either you atone for the sin your committed and the hurt you’ve caused or you reside in Harrenhal for the rest of your days…”

“This is a choice only you can make — a wife or a witch?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: I am considering making a follow-up to this one-shot, a blurb about the outcome of the options that Aemond has... maybe...

[resqectable]

Speak only when your words are more beautiful than silence.

Imam Ali

[mystalwartheart]

One thing I really like that's come about through writing my verse is the parallels drawing themselves between Jill and Billy. Billy is criminally underexplored in canon, having only appeared in one game and a bit, but he's always been one of my favourite Resident Evil characters. He shares a few similarities with both Chris and Kevin, being a devoted officer with a bit of a laid-back sense of humour, but he's always struck me as more stable and confident than the former, while lacking the toxic lechery and juvenile foul temper of the latter. He's a lot of fun to think about, and he's a great man for Becca: Billy's extremely loving, devoted and protective, but completely respects and embraces Rebecca's skill, agency and her way of doing things. In earlier drafts I paralleled him with Chris and had them as close friends: They both share that trait of wanting to do well by their women and take good care of them: Billy to Rebecca and Chris to Jill. He's also a huge shipper: He loves playing matchmaker XD

As the story evolved though, and Chris with it, I started thinking more and more about how fun it would be if Jill and Billy had that relationship, especially if/when Jill gets with Ashley. I ended up liking that a lot more: Aside from the general funness that comes with flipping a gender role, I see Jill and Billy having a kind of warm brother/sister relationship, and I think they'd have a really amicable, easygoing and playful rapport. Also, Jill, Billy and Rebecca all share an affinity for the piano! Billy is actually more proficient than his girlfriend, as we see in Resident Evil Zero. I like to imagine they all practice together, and sometimes put on piano recitals for their friends and family.

[andthemouseroared]

I am officially at the "playing virtual Barbie dolls with Ashley by seeing how many different cute outfits I can dress her in" stage of my life with RE4make.

I have decided Ashley is far and away the most fashionable of all the protagonists.

She's the only one who can do midcentury European college student, everyday casual, anime waifu, scenester, emo, professional businesswoman girlboss, eGirl, debutante socialite, foreign diplomat, Actual 18th Century Princess, modern punk and 80s wastelander metalhead and rock them all perfectly. A fitting tribute to her influencer faceclaim.

Believe me, you have not lived until you've seen Ashley spinning kick a Ganado's head into the ground fully decked out in an 18th century ballgown.

Now in true Ashley fashion, this is a shitpost that also reveals some important truths about who The Mouse is as a person.

Fashion is something that's really important to me. I do a lot of vintage and indie clothes shopping, and my style is one of my favourite ways to express myself. Like any form of creative expression, a person's fashion sense can tell us a lot about who they are and what they value. For someone as fashion-forward as Ashley, her style being so versatile and freeform (either officially, through mods, or both) can tell us she perhaps has an equally diverse range of interests and skills: It's even canon she can randomly drive a forklift for reasons which very pointedly go completely unexplained.

This isn't like Jill's locksmithing or her occasional thick Los Angeles accent, which in canon do seem like genuine oversights or boring deus ex machina: Ashley being able to operate heavy machinery or being secretly a scene girl seem like deliberate Noodle Incidents on the part of the writers and designers.

So Ashley has hidden depths, and she's also a bit of a troll with an offbeat sense of humour XD

Taken together, this all makes Ashley come across as unusually developed for a video game protagonist of this type for me: She has a lot of seemingly intentionally dropped threads that seem to hint at a wider backstory that isn't going to be told. She's never coming back in another game or movie, but from a fanfic author/RPer's perspective it's one of the things that make her a lot of fun to think about and play with.

I suppose one could argue these are really all just jokes about how Ashley is often seen as a stereotype (the canon content, anyway), but I choose to read them otherwise, if for no other reason than because Ashley's taken enough flak over the past two decades.

[kil-luna]

bakugou is a dumbass. he would never, ever confess first no matter what. the idiot in him would think that confessing first would mean he would lose.

and you aren't someone who can muster the courage to speak to him about your feelings, so no feelings are talked about at all.

and katsuki will hate every single second of it. he would hate how he could be with you now if only YOU would confess the hell up already. 

that’s why you two entered in your relationship in the strangest way; everyone knew you were together but the two of you. even if you two weren’t aware of this because you didn’t put any label in your relationship, you sure did act like a couple, so there wasn’t any difference at all.

“its been almost a year, i think. is that right? what will you do for your first year anniversary?” momo asked you one night. everyone was gathered in the living room of the UA dormitory so almost everyone heard, including bakugou. he was about to go upstairs to sleep, but then he was certain that momo was talking to you, so before he could think, he already blurted out, “HAAAH? anniversary? this dumbass? WITH WHO?!” he was never really concerned about anyone else’s relationship. they could all get married for all he care. however, he was surprised that YOU were in a relationship with someone who isn't him. that's not how it's supposed to happen.

almost instantly after his ridiculous question, everyone turned their heads to his direction. “WITH YOU!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

again, bakugou is a dumbass.

[raggedy-spaceman]

"I don’t know this man!" David Tennant and Michael Sheen on Good Omens 2, jetpacks and Jon Hamm nude

Michael Christopher Sheen you are a menace to society!

[yurozo]

slow dancing in a burning room (leon kennedy one-shot)

synopsis: leon's new to this, new to relationships, new to expecting someone at home waiting for him. after a mission, he's determined to have a moment of peace with you. (general audiences)

a/n: this is purely self-indulgent. i just want to wrap leon in a big blanket and give him a smooch on the head.

in retrospect, a normal life for him was always out of the question. the moment he decided to drown in his own sorrows the night before the incident, as he's so aptly named it, that was it. there was no more backing out for him-- forced to live and relive the same routine over and over until his heart rattled in his chest. every moment in the firefight blurs at the edges, stretched and stringed together in a half-hearted attempt at putting himself back together again, but repairing things was never his forte. not his modus operandi, as it were.

in this war, there's no better way to reconcile than a couple quick swigs until his throat burned.

all this considered, it made the fact that it only took you two years to make leon back into a mostly functioning human being all the more impressive. you had come into his life like a tidal wave—  sweeping him up in your storm and laying him gently on the shore, fixed-up and patched together.

again, mostly.

after three days of trucking through another monster-infested city, leon stepped into the threshold of your shared home with what felt like a death rattle in his chest. he showered after the helicopter ride, had all of his mission gear tucked away at dso headquarters, and for all intents and purposes should feel normal again. but it's only after seeing you, sipping on a glass of water in the dim light of the kitchen that makes the ache in his heart finally quell.

a slow thump this time, rather than a crackling, wet noise.

"can't sleep?" leon chooses to break the silence first, leaning his hip against the opposite counter. you jolt a little, leon always had the quietest walk known to man, but shake your head in response anyway. of course, leaving the not until you're home again left unsaid. he knew you worried. you knew that he knew you worried. it was written in your blood, just as protecting was in his.

"everything went okay?" you ask, turning around to appraise him. that was your routine every time he came home, inspect leon like a bug under a microscope and ever so carefully stitch the parts back on. he looks clean, and save for a few noticeable scraped and overgrown stubble, he's in considerably better shape than he normally is.

he hums affirmatively in response. "better than most."

"we should sleep." you try and tug him towards the bedroom but he quickly stops you, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

"stay," he mumbles against your skin, lips just barely grazing it in a barely-there kiss. "just for a bit."

a soft sigh leaves you, chest heaving against his. in lieu of an answer, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers curling in the hair long overdue for a trim.

it's then that leon has an, admittedly, stupid idea. one that sowed when he was forced to watch some terrible romance movie with you, and only blossomed the longer that he was away. his arm moves awkwardly between you until his fingers fumble for the phone in his back pocket, holding it between you as he scrolls for something with a sly grin only reserved for you.

a song you don't recognize starts playing, and leon places the phone on the kitchen counter with a questioning glance in your direction.

you respond in turn with a raised brow. "i didn't know you danced."

"i don't," he chuckles, pointedly not saying that he might only be willing to do it for you. in truth, he's willing to indulge in a very long list of stupid things to make you happy.

he hesitates for a moment before the tips of his fingers gently graze your hips, tugging you forwards. in a somewhat reluctant, but no less sincere way, he continues, "but i've been known to make exceptions."

you step forward at his insistence, letting leon tug you by the hip. a soft smile can't be helped at the knock of his temple against yours. "you're not going to step on my toes, are you?"

"don't get too excited," he grumbles, hands already clutching at your waist while trying to still keep a respectable distance from your body. he's tired enough as it is, and he's not trying to start something later than he can't finish, as tempting as it may be. with his guidance you both start swaying to the melody, a somewhat awkward attempt to emulate every romantic cliche. "i'm probably going to be terrible."

he is. not that you would say that to his face.

leon's stiff, uncoordinated in a way that could not be more dissimilar to graceful way he moves in combat. you've seen him fight plenty of times, seen how every attack and dodge feels like a choreographed routine, and this could not be more different than that leon. his steps are jerky, his hands keep shifting awkwardly against the flat expanse of your back, and he can't seem to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds in lieu of making sure his feet are moving correctly.

it's endearing, in an adorable, hopelessly shy sort of way. so completely out of his element, and he knows it.

the longer the dance goes on, the more apparent it becomes just how aware leon is of himself. despite your best efforts at trying to guide him along the kitchen floor, leon almost seems to be self-sabotaging. every time you make a move to ease the tension in his shoulders with a gentle push on his chest or a soft caress with your thumb, his feet stumble into yours.

"relax," you tell him, only succeeds in giving him the inexplicable urge to throw himself out the nearest window.

"i am relaxed," he lies through his teeth.

"stop thinking, then." you try again, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"i can't."

you've known leon too long to miss what that means. almost every time he gets back from a mission, it's like getting the empty husk of your boyfriend haunting the corridors until he can get himself back to routine. at its worst, it takes a few meals and gentle caresses for him to even look at you in the eyes. like a dog with its ears flat and a ripped up shoe in its mouth.

"as romantic as this is," you smile, trailing your hand up his neck until it lands at home on his cheek. the gesture is sweet, truly. but leon already looks like he's falling apart, and this time it's time for you to protect. "maybe we really should get some sleep."

the song comes to an end then, the last final notes trickling through the air before surrendering to a complete, all-encompassing silence. leon only gives you a slow nod, before following your figure to the bedroom. easy, quiet as a lamb.

finally, there's no more burning. all that's left is the quiet.