// Start a tiny riot //
He can barely see what's happening, too focused on flinging the next cushion in, unable to fully stoop low enough to peer inside if he really wants to get the full arc of his swing in. He can hear each one land though, and the faint sound of her scuttling about amid the strikes. He's already halfway to a grin when his name peals out, wreathed in her giggles, which sends it streaking fully across his face. He lifts up the last pillow, eeking it in little by little with short nudges of his foot. Slow, as requested.
While she lays cushions like brick and mortar on the inside, he fusses with the overlapping canopies on the outside that are starting to sag with the layered weight and the continual short little tugs here and there. A few he's able to secure by wedging against the chairs and twisting around the points of the legs, fashioning very decorative spires. Others he resorts to rummaging around the kitchen for bag clips, gathering up the two seams that need to marry into an even and flat line that will stay firm in the middle.
It's one such section he's giving attention to when she bursts through like a xenomorph. The clip fumbles in his hand, snapping on air and flopping out onto the burst seam as he's left gawking at her. The erratic splay of her golden crown, the overgrown eyepatch shielding half her face, and the cheeky look she wears like it's always suited her best are all too much. Laughter takes him by such storm that no noise makes it free, just a silent point directed at her before he doubles over and falls to the ground, weak in the knees. Utterly crippled, all he can do is shake and slap the floor, tears pricking at the edges as his body fights for air while continuing to deprive him of it.
He flops over onto his back, opening up his lungs as he tries to stuff the laughter back down for the sake of survival, through the humor hums through each audible exhale he blows out. "Y-y-you l-l-ook f-f-ffffucking RIDICULOUS!" Deep affection colors the shaky tease, more laughter shaking free with it.
While she lays cushions like brick and mortar on the inside, he fusses with the overlapping canopies on the outside that are starting to sag with the layered weight and the continual short little tugs here and there. A few he's able to secure by wedging against the chairs and twisting around the points of the legs, fashioning very decorative spires. Others he resorts to rummaging around the kitchen for bag clips, gathering up the two seams that need to marry into an even and flat line that will stay firm in the middle.
It's one such section he's giving attention to when she bursts through like a xenomorph. The clip fumbles in his hand, snapping on air and flopping out onto the burst seam as he's left gawking at her. The erratic splay of her golden crown, the overgrown eyepatch shielding half her face, and the cheeky look she wears like it's always suited her best are all too much. Laughter takes him by such storm that no noise makes it free, just a silent point directed at her before he doubles over and falls to the ground, weak in the knees. Utterly crippled, all he can do is shake and slap the floor, tears pricking at the edges as his body fights for air while continuing to deprive him of it.
He flops over onto his back, opening up his lungs as he tries to stuff the laughter back down for the sake of survival, through the humor hums through each audible exhale he blows out. "Y-y-you l-l-ook f-f-ffffucking RIDICULOUS!" Deep affection colors the shaky tease, more laughter shaking free with it.
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
