h i g h w i n d .

an independent cid highwind.

[bigbrawl]

Hey, do you know who I am? I'm Cid—that's who the hell I am!                                                                                                Now just let me handle it !!!!!!

            bigbrawl is an independent rp blog for cid highwind from the ff7 universe.                           crossover friendly, multi-ship, & largely plot-driven.                    always friendly & always welcoming of memes, asks, and dms 

                                                        [ rules . bio . verses ]

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

As the other man leaves, Vincent lays there alone. He didn’t want to sleep either, but there was concern that Cid should rest. He had just woken up, after all. Instead, he watches him go- a smile on his face that wasn’t burdened by anything at all. And to hear him say that he wanted to look at everything, made Vincent smile. May as well follow and see how the view suits Cid.

Outside, it’s early morning and the sun is still climbing over the cityscape of Edge. The stars are winking out for the day, one by one. But further away from it all, is the sight of Midgar’s ruins and especially the remains of the Shinra building. Overgrown, cast under tree and vine, spreading out like a wave against a landscape that had regained most of its color. The ocean gleams in pockets flooded by changes in the shape of the surrounding land.

It’s still quiet enough, but the sounds of the city are coming alive again. Everything feels at once new and old, cleaner and less downcast. Windows shine the sun back as people prepare for their usual routines. Life still goes on, as it did when they were fighting to save it from slipping away. But this time, it’s peaceful. Everything feels focused towards bettering the world around them, more so than it did before.

For a time, Vincent stays back to watch Cid and let him see what all he feels taking in. But after a while, he approaches, to catch him by the hand gently. Not to pull him away as long as he is enjoying the sights, but to stand with him and also look around.

“See everything, as long as you like. You should walk around the city again. So much has changed, as I’m sure you know,” he speaks just over the wind that surrounds them up here, “…you should also go home, see it with your own eyes.” A moment to squeeze Cid’s hand, hoping he knows what he means by that, to see Rocket Town again.

“…maybe, soon, we can go out for dinner again,” and for once, there’s something selfish there, a gentle, but slightly urgent request. To spend more time with him, “But for now-” And he doesn’t hesitate this time to pull him close, catch Cid around the waist, to kiss him there, under the blue sky.

Leaning against the railing of that balcony, Cid stares out at the sight laid before him. For a brief moment, he’s overtaken by it all, overwhelmed by the sheer distance in time between this second and his last ones, so long ago. Vincent hadn’t told him how long it had been yet, but to lay his gaze upon that distant building, once towering and cold, covered in greenery, in trees and leaves, tells him enough.

It was a very, very long time.

Vincent’s hand finds his wrist, and Cid briefly glances down at the sight before he looks back out again. The sky was so blue, so much bluer than it had ever been back then - Midgar was always gray, from the ground up. What a world he had woken up to.

“Yeah. I figure I should.” If this was what had become of Midgar, what had become of Rocket Town? What of ... everywhere else, for that matter? How had the world fared, since his last years? Was it everything they’d hoped for? Was it everything they’d worked for? Maybe Vincent can tell he’s absorbed by his thoughts, because he draws him out of it by a touch against his waist - and Cid turns willingly, leaning down (leaning? Was he taller now?) to press his lips to the other’s.

His own hand rises, catching the man’s chin with it, and he tugs him in slightly to kiss him deeper, and then deeper still. It’s as much intimate as it is catching up on all those lost years, all the time that Vincent had been left alone. While it seemed like he had done fine for himself, that didn’t stop the engineer from feeling a slight pain at the idea of him with no one else for all this time.

“We’ll go to dinner,” he murmurs, so close their lips continue to brush, “We’ll do whatever y’want. I got years to make up to you.”

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

Briefly, there’s a moment’s glance spared to the meal left half eaten on the table. A frown crosses the Turk’s features and then a sigh, as he rubs his eyes. The newspaper is folded and left on the table. May as well see that everything is in order, even if the engineer wasn’t eating well.

While Cid disappears into his garage, Vincent takes the time to pull on his tie, adjusting it as a jacket is thrown over his arm. Everything in order, everything in its place. As it should be. As always a pinnacle of professionalism, as far as fashion goes. Even if he might be going easy on his current assignment. He wondered, when that started changing.

Whatever it takes, to keep him in line and working as he should towards the project goal, he was told. He wasn’t meant to do much more than that.

Picking up his pistol, pristine silver and black casing, he went about hiding it in its holster. But all the while, there was a strange feeling. Something did feel off, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Eyes following, shadows around the corner- just an overreaction of a mind too focused on finding flaws and enemies in everything.

But he found himself aiming at something, hiding over his shoulder, staring intently at him. And then, it was gone. Gone…?

He shook his head and found himself following Cid’s trail back to the worktable. The question- it throws him and he can’t find the answer immediately. Strange…he usually had an answer for everything, “Hm? What do you mean? I know- it’s been a rough change over the last month. But it’s been like this.” This being the rather peaceful morning so far, “…I…mn.”

“I thought I felt someone watching but…I think they’re gone,” and he offered the touch of the back of his hand to Cid’s cheek. It’s brief…but perhaps the only moment that he gave away caring more about the man than the assignment since Cid woke up.

Of course it had been a change. The understanding came to him late, in a way that didn’t still feel quite right, that Shera had left some time ago to work on parts of the rocket not yet shipped out of Junon, and shortly thereafter, the threats began. Some guy he apparently snubbed for the astronaut’s program was losing his damn mind over Cid’s name being plastered all over ShinRa’s displays and wanted the engineer to know he wasn’t safe.

Admittedly, the pilot didn’t think the threats held water. And if they did, he was at least strong enough to handle the matter himself - or so he’d say a few beers in. But, ShinRa had other plans, and the Turks sent Vincent Valentine in to look after him. Protecting assets and secrets and all.

Yeah, sure, whatever. A big change. But, that wasn’t what he meant.

But then, Vincent mentions feeling as though someone was watching and his gaze slips toward the doorway, a scowl on his features - until the touch of the other’s hand brushes against his cheek. That hardened expression softens slightly in the seconds their skin meet, but when it’s gone it goes back to as it always was.

“... I ain’t feel good about none of this,” he says, “Just don’t feel right. Like somethin’s gonna happen. Felt it right since I woke up.” Slowly rising to his feet as he wraps a rubber band around the schematic, he hunts for his folders and files, shuffling them all into one space.

When he looks back to Vincent, he stops - and he stares. Again, something just isn’t right. His hair should be longer, his eyes shouldn’t be so dim in their color - what was going on here?

“Maybe we should call an’ reschedule with the President. Figure out what’s goin’ on, in case somethin’ happens.” He suggests - a rare sign of apprehension from a man who charges headfirst into everything. When’d he learn that?

[elenimut]

Cid Sketches

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

A moment to simply enjoy the touch of each other, body to body, hand to hand. All he wanted was to breathe and rest and know- or hope- that everything was and is as it should be. Both of their shirts cast aside on the floor and for only a moment, a shyness to see that now, he was the only one with scars. But that is ok- it meant that this Cid, young and new to the world, didn’t have to suffer. Shouldn’t have to suffer.

His hands hold him again at the waist, smiling fondly at that thin line. He wouldn’t speak it aloud again, but he enjoyed the fact that the table had turned. He could hold him now, playfully pull him close. But so tenderly, he just wanted to kiss him and be kissed. The touch to cheek, the jaw, the lips has him melting into it, hoping dearly he’s not dreaming.

He caught him by the cheek, to stare eye to eye, “…when you were alive, I longed to see you at ease as you are now. You grew into it, showed that boyish affection, but you always seemed troubled by it some times…” Another kiss, as tender as before, “…your bad attitude, everything rough and mean, the tenderness and affection. I loved it all, but I wanted your confidence too, at ease in your own skin.”

“The loving confidence, that is,” he says with a small smile, “Call me whatever you want, hell, I miss you calling me a vampire or a witch…skeleton is almost cute.”

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he gently loosens the necklace around Cid’s neck and frees the ring there. Catching it in the palm of his hand, he pulls his hand close to slip the ring back on. And then does the same with his own.

“…I’m glad you’re home again,” he says, holding their hands together, bumping forehead to forehead with him again, “Don’t go, at least not for a while, ok? I’ll wake you up again, if you fall asleep.”

It was so very strange to hear Vincent say those words. ‘When you were alive.’ To know he lived and died and now lived again, that not only could one live immortal, one could simply be brought back in a way that felt as easy as casting a line out to sea to catch a fish. All you would need is the right bait; it seemed for Cid that bait was not the promise of the stars, it was not the knowledge of a do-over, it was something as simple and as warm as the man he had loved.

Every kiss makes him feel alight, puts the little hairs all over his body on edge but in a way he would trade for nothing, and he wants more, more, more. While he feels as though Vincent would give him all he’d ask for - he remembers him saying as much - Cid decides not to be so selfish here, least of all when Vincent slips that ring from around his neck and puts it upon his finger instead.

The moment is quiet, comfortably silent, as he watches him put his own ring back on, and before their hands come together, he flexes his fingers against the sight and huffs a slight laugh in disbelief that he was even here again. That he could have even one more minute on this earth by Vincent’s side.

God, he really had gotten old and sentimental, hadn’t he?

The other mentions sleep, and Cid immediately barks out a laugh. Peeling himself up, though planting a kiss to the immortal’s lips as he goes, he swings his long legs around and stares around the room. “Sleep! I’ve been dead an’ asleep for how fuckin’ long and you think that’s what I want to do right now? Fuck’s sake, Vince.”

Getting up, he makes for that open door to step outside, to feel the air upon his skin once again after so long. “I’ll sleep later. If you’re tired, though ... go on. I’ll just ... look at everythin’.”

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

It’s a lovely morning, really. The skies are blue, barely any clouds to be seen through the window of the kitchen they sit in. But that perhaps continues to add to the feeling of uncanny newness. But all the same, Vincent remains as detached and calm as he ever is or was. Perhaps even more so, as if he has no real attachment to the man across the table, save the job he’s currently on.

“Escorting you, yes. I think you also forgot you picked up a ‘secret admirer’ during your training phase for candidacy. They’ve been sending threatening messages for months,” he flips a page, idly scanning the news as if it has answers of its own, “I was called on to make certain you remain safe until the rocket is ready for launch.” Another flip of the page as red eyes- strangely not as vibrant as they used? To be? Or perhaps never were- look up and regard the man across the table.

But at the observation of his hair being too short, he seems to just freeze and stare at the man. It lasts a half minute too long, but then there’s a snort, “What? My hair could stand for a trim, I think.” A hand, not scarred, picks up the bangs that lay across his cheek and lets them go, “Pretty sure I’m two months overdue, Cid.”

“You must’ve drank too much last night. After the meeting, we’ll see about fixing that, hm? I think a work out will help or we can go inspect the launch grounds- you seem to enjoy that for fresh air,” a shrug as he goes back to reading the paper as if it might be the most fascinating thing in the room.

The answer he’s given isn’t the answer he wants, and it shows in the way the engineer grumbles and looks down at his plate. For the first time in a long time, the man doesn’t wolf down his breakfast, and leaves half of it on the plate as he abandons it at the table.

“... Launch grounds, I guess.” Trailing his hand against the table, he spares a glance to Vincent and feels a strange, upset tug in his chest at the fact that the man hardly looked at him. And when he did, it didn’t feel the way he wanted it to feel. His own gaze falls to the hands of the Turk at the table, and he briefly registers that they are both not gloved, and pristine - they were not scarred, and Cid thinks that they are supposed to be.

Had he gotten too drunk that night?

“M’gonna go review materials.” Heading for the garage where his worktable sits, he stares at the desk and the papers laid out over it. Paperwork strewn is and isn’t familiar - it’s something he was working on once, he knows this, yet somehow it’s strange to see it now. Like looking at an old friend. Slowly, the man sinks into his chair and pores over a plan that he’s certain he made, but in the back of his mind he registers the pencil, the graphite, it’s too fresh and new -- he’s certain when he was working on this, he’d spilled coffee on the corner, and yet there was no stain. 

Was he misremembering? He felt as though he’d just awoken from some terribly long dream, and now nothing looked familiar.

“... Vince,” he calls as he turns in his chair as he lifts up his schematic, rolling it up carefully, “D’you ... feel like somethin’s up? I dunno, feels weird in here. Tell me it ain’t just me, right?”

The Turk had to have an idea, right? He had to notice?

[peonrin-deactivated20231127]

Smile, buddy

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

Perhaps what is the most bizarre detail is that the entire house feels new. As if it had just been built. Not rebuilt, repurposed or even renovated in any way. Just new. But there is familiar fixtures- the bed, the kitchen table, and sofa are all the ones that Cid had purchased recently. But everything about the house itself is new. Countertops, wallpaper, appliances, everything as if it had been installed recently.

The breakfast may not be what Cid wants, but it is what he gets. And as a familiar figure walks into the kitchen to join him, newspaper under his arm, red eyes land on him. Then joins him at the table. Short cropped black hair, dressed rather nicely considering- a white button down shirt, black dress pants, and the detail of a black leather shoulder holster. Though not armed, it seems.

“Yes, a meeting with the President- you have a demonstration for that new engine you proposed last month. Did you forget so easily?” he speaks up, opening and spreading the newspaper out, “I hope you remembered your project materials, Cid. I would hate for you to waste his time and not get further funding.” And hate has special emphasis, as if he’s particularly annoyed that his own time might be wasted if Cid doesn’t measure up.

It’s Vincent, of course. Though his voice is clearer, features less hardened by time and circumstance, but still sharp. Unassuming to the average man. Reading the newspaper and quietly enjoying his own breakfast. “I’ll be escorting you, as usual. Wouldn’t want Shinra’s investment to get kidnapped, hm?”

And with that, he shakes out the paper with a light snap and goes about his reading.

It really wasn’t right.

Blue eyes glance around, and though his mind is in a particularly hazy fog, he knows that something is up. Peering at the living room on the other end of the kitchen, he stares at the TV, and it’s way too new - there’s no dust at the corners, no broken antennae from years of fumbling.

Then there’s Vincent. Cid almost doesn’t want to meet his eyes, because something about them isn’t quite right to him. Nothing was right. That word, right, wasn’t even right - because it was his house, he knows it’s his house. That was his bed he’d woken up in. That was his sofa, this was his table. So, why did it feel like everything was just, wrong?

Staring down at his plate again, he runs his tongue against his teeth and then looks back up. 

“... Escortin’ me?” He asks, head canting -- the longer Vincent talks, the more it really just doesn’t make sense. Granted, some part of him leaps at the idea - funding, a new engine. The thought of looking out that window and seeing the rocket right where he’d left it is tempting, but he doesn’t budge an inch. He somehow feels he knows better.

He also feels he has no idea what’s going on, even though he can’t remember the day prior. There’s the memory of smoke and blood, and a vague pain in his side - though as he’d seen in the shower, there was nothing there - but he can’t put his finger on it.

Except for one thing.

“Your hair’s too short,” he says, all too matter-of-factly, like his opinion mattered to a Turk.

[bigbrawl]

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse .

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ]

Just as the man goes to open his mouth - a finger is promptly raised and he is silenced. Not physically, for forcibly, but Cid is, in fact, so taken aback by the fact that someone, least of all Cloud, the scrawny fuck that he was, would tell him of all people to --

Oh, it makes his blood boil!

...

At least until Cloud points down the way, gesturing toward the treeline; several monsters prowl the path they had meant to take, and Cid seems to reel back slightly, if only because now he felt sheepish for nearly having given their position away.

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

A part of him wondered if it was also something that came with his unique circumstances. No one else he had met in all the time alone, nothing he had ever found or read, indicated what lay at his fingertips as a Weapon of the Planet. It frightened him in a way, to know that he could simply pull a soul from a sleeping state or within the Lifestream and make it live again. But he’d rather believe in the act of love, of being soul-bound with Cid.

It didn’t matter if it was cruel, as long as it gave him the chance to find him, again and again. The loneliness could be held at bay, stopped for a time, as long as that faint hope remained.

Laying in bed like this, remembering the hours they spent talking to each other as they lay affection with hands and lips and gazes between. It warmed him, chased the cold away that surrounded him like a barrier. He wanted those eyes again, to look at him and see him in all those loving ways Cid had learned to enjoy in his first life.

Gently, as if handling something delicate and easily broken, Vincent took his time freeing Cid from his shirt. Every hard line, the subtle sweep and curve the young engineer had, his fingertips found with a touch here, a caress there. It was a thrill to feel each and wonder at every new and familiar detail.

But at the mention of how he’s so young, a ‘baby’, Vincent gives him a deadpan glare over his usual smirk, “…considering how troublingly flirty you’ve been with me, despite knowing I’m your superior…talking about how you don’t mind if I watch you among other heated boasts and headstrong statements.. Your confidence has been refreshing, but I am not sure where you, a baby, picked up such behavior.”

“And besides that, I’m old enough now. You can’t argue that I’ve been asleep too long to not be 'mature enough’, Cid,” he brags fondly- and he could do that now. There was more to him now than Cid would probably recall. “How is it said…old enough to know better, but young enough to not give a damn? Something like that.”

Without complaint, Cid lets Vincent peel that shirt off of him, the fabric giving way to the skin beneath. Unlike his first body, this one is nearly pristine, lacking in all the hardened and silvery scars that signify all the adventures he’d taken part in over the course of his life; he is fresh and new, and he even feels it in the way he moves and breathes.

It felt good, to be touched again. It wasn’t as though there had been a lack of it later in his life, but somehow, it feels different here; perhaps almost reverential. A younger Cid, one who did not want to be honest about his wants and desires, perhaps would shy away from the way that Vincent touched him so tenderly, so lovingly. This one, though, who is both too old and too young to care about such things, just preens quietly under the familiar touch of a lover.

“You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, “how confident I were when I was a boy. Don’t sound any different than the way I was back the first time I went t’college ...” He leans back in when he’s able, to kiss Vincent again; first, on the cheek, the jaw, and then on the lips again. “You liked it though, eh? An’ here I thought all you liked about me was my bad attitude.”

At being told he can’t pull the mathematics out on the age card anymore, he kisses the back of his teeth and sneers at the man however briefly, “Yeah, now you’re an old bag o’ bones, ain’t you? Remind me t’add skeleton to the list of things I call you.”

It’s all spoken in jest - there’s a fire in him he hasn’t felt in so long, now. It isn’t wanting, not in a sensual way, but simply, he was alive. A spark fanned into a flame, let back out into the open. If he would have this second chance, if he could have more than just this morning in these blankets and would not disappear when his eyes next closed, he would become a wildfire, if he was lucky. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs again, softer this time.

[bigbrawl]

volumes

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ]

Cid has never been a particularly vigilant man. He was smart (a genius, even, by some metrics,) detail oriented, capable of paying attention to the slightest of clues when the spirit moved him - but vigilant? Hardly, not unless they were in flight.

Watching their backs was a job often left up to Vincent or Cloud, men whose eyes could see farther than they should. So, Cid never bothered to learn to really pay attention to his surroundings. Vincent, obviously, found this a good thing - he could stare at the engineer almost all day without him noticing, without so much as a hair raising on the back of the focused man's neck.

Today is no different, with Cid bent over a project in his garage, brow furrowed as a magnifying glass sits between him and the minute details of a schematic he was putting to blueprint, and Vincent upon a lounge chair they'd dragged in because sometimes, love was doing your own things in the same room.

Occasionally, they'd talk to each other, but usually, it was Cid working and Vincent reading whatever had grabbed his attention.

This time, though, Vincent has opted to set his book down against his chest and let his vivid eyes skate across the garage, from the oil stain that marked the spot his truck used to take up to the lances on the wall, and then, over to Cid's back hunched over his desk, that lamp shining bright on his details and putting a light sheen of sweat against the back of his neck.

His hair falls over his face and occasionally, a calloused hand pushes the strands back, swiping away the sweat from his forehead where it gathered here, too, to wipe it off on his jeans and grumble that the lightbulbs were so damn hot when he had them next to his face. His shoulders shift, the muscles beneath his blue t-shirt just visible enough to the eyes that one can tell how well-kept the man was, his hands, so harsh and rough, focused on such small motions with his pencil - Vincent saw it all.

It's only once Cid lifts his head up to offer himself reprieve from these schematics to breathe in deep that he finally, at last, seems to notice the eyes on him. When he looks, casting his gaze over his shoulder, Vincent is still staring.

It used to be that they'd never meet eyes, too ashamed to be caught lingering on one another. But now, Vincent is unabashed, refusing to hide the feelings that burned in the depths of his eyes. It's at once soft and sharp, his expression both empty and all too full - Cid feels sheepish in the face of it.

Despite the slight embarrassment coloring his ears, the pilot sets his pen down and rises from his chair before crossing the distance between them to bend over the lounge, using his hands to leverage himself upon its back and arms, so he can catch the gunman for a kiss.

[bigbrawl]

reverse + ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair .

— [ 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ]

Admittedly, when Cid first joined the ragtag group of would-be world savers, he didn't think much of Aerith.

He thought she was weird, to put it plainly. Too soft, too caring, and in a way that he wouldn't admit, too good for the world they were in. This manifested in a certain amount of distance levied between himself and the flower girl, because friendship came hard for the engineer and her softness was almost unsavory to him. More for the fact that he knew not how to handle tenderness than for any true distaste for it - Cid was not tender, and he did not want tenderness.

Still, though, he would have to admit that over time, he grew to be quite impressed by her. Between her readiness to accept a responsibility that anyone (even himself) would run from and the way she faced even uncertainty with a bravery you'd think wouldn't fit inside her slight frame, Cid Highwind grew to think that perhaps tenderness wasn't exactly equal to weakness.

Again, not that he would admit. He had a reputation to uphold, of course.

Either way, on an evening spent on the ship after a particularly exhausting foray out into the wilderness where she had, yet again, shown that strength came in many forms other than just physical, Cid is applying a fresh bandage not to a wound that he had sustained in battle, but a cut upon his chin where shaving did not agree with him when he happens to see the girl walk by the bathroom door, her braid bouncing in the mirror so quickly he scarce even realizes it was her if not for the flash of pink.

"Hey, girlie --" He calls to her, turning around and leaning out of that small bathroom, hand gripping to doorframe to hold himself upright as he calls to her. She stops and turns, and Cid quickly realizes he didn't think he'd get this far.

Staggering out into the hall that fed out from the crew quarters into the main belly of the ship, he stares at her -- she is expectant, and he looks like a fucking idiot.

Suddenly, a hand reaches out and plants itself right on top of her head perhaps too roughly. Though Cid wasn't a very tall man, he was quite big, and as his palm plants against the top of her head he notices that he could very well hurt her if he wasn't careful.

...

He quickly ruffles her hair, offering a brief pat in apology at the end.

"Uh. Y'did good today, s'all. Uh. Nice magic, and whatnot, out... out there."

Almost immediately the man turns and disappears back into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him because he, at least, feels like he's made a fool of himself.

[bigbrawl]

the porn bots found me

[ohisms]

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐕  .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐕 .    NSFW

❛   surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse . ❛   pin .   push  my  muse  against  a  [ wall,  table,  other ] . ❛   go down .   go  down  on  my  muse . ❛   choke .   intimately  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   belt loops .   pull  my  muse  closer  by  their  belt loops . ❛   skinny dipping .   go  skinny  dipping  with  my  muse . ❛   rip .   tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛   mark .   leave  a  mark  on  my  muse’s  body  [ specify where ] .

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

“Whatever it takes, I’ll find you as many times as I can, wake you up as quickly as possible” he says so very quietly, a hand brushing through that shaggy blonde hair. Touching that cheek again and admiring how, though young, it still felt like him. Still sounded like him. How afraid he was, to love again. It never really stopped, but it did sleep and feeling it wake up and flutter in the cage of his heart and chest was startling.

He let himself lay down on the bed, eyes closed for a moment to enjoy the touch of those hands in his hair. A hand touches where Cid’s lands on his heart, “…I want to believe it is an act of love…” A glance elsewhere, red eyes burning as he contemplates the cost, “…I hope that it is love, between all of our souls.”

The way he nuzzles in close and against his neck has Vincent blushing, but content. His arms embrace him, hands affectionately touching those youthful muscles. He admired this incarnation from afar and now he had what he felt was the entirety of his passion and love in his hands again.

“Let’s live together, again,” he whispers, “…let’s see your dream through, as far as we can go, in this lifetime.”

He brushes Cid close, pulling him near for another series of kisses. Raining affection wherever he can with his lips. Once he catches his breath again and he sighs, smiling for the first time in genuine feeling, “Cid, do you still feel…as ‘he’ did…? So brash, so warm…”

“…I like that I can live as long as possible with you, this time,” he says softly, “…more than being alone, I missed all the time we could have together…I want to savor everything, experience everything. With you.”

Gently, teasing him for the body he has yet to fill out, he squeezes Cid at the waist, “…you’re so thin~.”

An act of love. If that’s what it was, maybe Cid could finally, truly believe in the existence of soulmates. After all, if the soul exists, and if he could be brought back, was that not proof enough? 

How fucking cruel of the world to give Vincent the life it did, if they is what they were to one another.

Every touch that Cid lays upon the other is exploratory, like he’s learning the planes and dips of Vincent’s body all over again, at once his touch brand new and so familiar. A part of him nearly wants to take Vincent the way he is, right now, because if he’ll never get another moment to do so, he wants to seize it - but the other part of him just wants to look at him, to love him in the sweetest ways he can manage.

When did he get so sentimental? It must’ve been the old age.

“I feel ... like I got the whole world at my fingertips again. Can’t remember the last time I felt so ...” His voice rumbles as he thinks, pressing a scruffy kiss to the crook of the other’s neck, “Fuckin’ alive. It’s weird. I was so ... goddamn tired for so long.” He kisses the same spot again, and again, and then his jaw, next to an ear, upon the brow.

Then, Vincent calls him thin, and the slight squeeze to his thin waist has him peering back towards his own hips, sparing a glance to his arms. For a moment, he’s disgruntled - not exactly disappointed, because at least this current version of himself didn’t let himself go, but if it was enough that Vincent felt he could tease him for it, he’d grumble about it.

“Yeah, don’t get used to it. How old am I anyway?” He tilts his head up, scanning the memories of his mind, thinking on the things that were there before he slipped into this body. “What, like twenty? Christ. I’m a baby. You sure you ain’t gonna get in trouble for kissin’ on me, Vince? How old are you now?”

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

It had fallen into something restful, as Vincent allowed himself to be held in Cid’s arms. He suddenly felt exhausted, as the tension of the last hours finally leaves him. But he wanted to stay awake, to keep talking. Silently fearing that if they stop, maybe it would be a dream and it would end. Memories came flooding back, though their roles had switched since they last lay like this.

It wasn’t difficult, but it was sorrowful, hurtful, pain that happened again and again as each of his friends passed away. When it stopped, he had carried himself as anyone else would or could- he found it in himself to mourn. But Cid’s passing had been the hardest and he found that after a year or so of trying to live ‘normally’ in their house together, without him, he couldn’t. So he left the following year, on Cid’s birthday and didn’t look back.

And then the time went on and the burden of each death lessened, but like any deep scar or cut, didn’t fade completely. Occupying the time with helping where he could, befriending those who passed in his wake, and simply trying to live where they couldn’t anymore.

But Cid speaks, and then asks ’You let me go?’. And his arms hold him all the tighter, explaining quietly, “The 'you’ of that life…wasn’t happy. Whatever had happened in the time before we met, was difficult for him. And despite sharing his feelings, the thoughts and dreams that haunted him, he didn’t like…what I knew and how I knew it.” A pause as he tries to recall it all, it had been a bitter memory, “…he didn’t want to live in your shadow, not knowing if everything was his own decision or feelings. He loved me, but couldn’t tell if it was 'his’…like you, he valued his freedom and I gave it to him.”

“…how could I deny you anything, no matter your form? And you always valued your freedom while alive…so I let 'you’ go, and I hoped that whatever, however he lived, he was happy with it.”

A sigh and a gentle shake of his head, “…it was enough, to know 'you’ were alive in the world with me, even if we couldn’t be together. But it hurt, I won’t deny. And…I almost didn’t want to try again, if I found you.”

He clings to him and feels that lonesome desperation crawl across his mind and skin, “…I also never knew how to convince or give you back what you lived and experienced and remembered. I didn’t know just a kiss would…shock you awake?”

“But you’re here now, that’s all that matters to me, Cid.”

Every time he closed his eyes, Cid felt a mild fear that he would disappear again. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad, since clearly someone else had been in this body before him, but then - Vincent would be alone again, wouldn’t he? Silently, the man wills himself into the belief that he would stay despite that evil. That even if he sleeps, he will awaken to be the same man he always has been if only to relieve his love of this sorrow.

“Beat me awake, every time.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he moves his hand to brush aside Vincent’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “... I can’t stand the thought of you bein’ all alone.”

Staring at the wall beyond them, then, to his jacket hung up over the desk, Cid lays there with their arms entwined around one another, in a way that he never thought he’d have the strength for again. In his later years, when his body grew weaker and weaker, he couldn’t hold Vincent the way he wanted to. It became a struggle, and every day he grew frailer he grew more and more mournful of the impending future.

Vincent always loved him even still. Something Cid would always be grateful for. That he had been a temperamental, loud, brash, and downright hateful man - and still he found someone with the patience to love him right up until the end.

That’s why he couldn’t leave him alone.

Slowly growing accustomed to the strength in his arms, this sense of vigor in his frame, Cid rolls in the bed just so that Vincent lay on his back and the engineer leaned half on top of him. One of his hands moves to draw its way through his hair, the sight of such young hands still startling him, and he says,

“... I dunno how it happened. I still ain’t know nothin’ about how magic works, but ... maybe it’s ‘cause your memories were so strong. Or ‘cause of...” He lowers his touch, pressing his palm against the man’s heart over his shirt.

Regardless of what did it, or what the consequences were, or what it meant - Cid was glad he was there, too. Selfishly, he would live eternal if he could, just if it meant Vincent had someone to ferry him off. If he had his way, they’d blast off in a rocket together, and explore some distant stars together, just the two of them - it’s what he’d always wanted, what he dreamed of, before age took the strength from his bones.

“It don’t matter,” he decides, leaning his head in to nuzzle his face in against Vincent’s neck, breathing in deep the scent of him here, too, “I don’t care. Wake me up, every time. Don’t let me leave you.”

[bigbrawl]

lovelornverse​:

There was a mention that he’d have to go buy some ingredients, but otherwise, Vincent found himself too tired to speak anything else. Outside of a gentle ’I love you too’ as they drift off together, he’s silent again. It’s nice, to just sleep and not be alone while doing so. Whatever could happen later, whatever happens even now, there wasn’t much of anything to bother them now.

But somehow, even in this calm, a slight chill seemed to crawl against his back. Barely, he looked aside and–

—

Perhaps they should’ve set an alarm. The hours pass so quickly and so many, as new sunlight shines through the windows. Perhaps a little too bright. And its quiet. Outside of the rapid footsteps approaching the bedroom. The door is thrown open without delay and there’s a rustling sound as blankets and clothing is picked up off the floor.

Grumbling and tossing another shirt over his shoulder, he walks over to the bedside and – pushes a hand against Cid’s shoulder. “Get up. It’s past 8 am- you’re going to be late!” Push again, shake-shake-shake.

“We don’t have all morning for you to decide to get up!” A one, a two…a FLIP of the blanket and the engineer is rolled free of his trappings. The mattress is only so comfy without any blankets to hide in.

“Hurry it up- get out of bed, get a shower, you have a meeting to make with the President. You have breakfast on the table.” And with that, the windows are thrown open as well, allowing the sunshine in full to flood the bedroom and a slight breeze to freshen the air.

“…maybe dad was right. I should’ve gone with the science department. At least someone knows how to keep a schedule there,” another grumble as he hurries along with an armful of laundry.

When his eyes open again, it seems that he slept through dinner entirely. What was meant to be a short nap became an entire sleep. Which, he probably needed considering the day before they’d ... what? What was it they’d done yesterday? Was he so groggy he just couldn’t recall?

Somehow, he feels too light, too. He could’ve sworn he’d fallen asleep with ...

The door swings open and his blanket is thrown from his body, and the cool air of the room meets his skin. The sensation is enough to make him groan in discontent, rolling over to plant his palms against the mattress and hoist himself up. “I’m movin’, I’m movin’! Goddamn. A meetin’ with the President?”

Had he gotten drunk last night? Is that why he can’t remember?

As he rises to his feet, Cid feels disoriented. Something feels wrong, but he can’t quite place it. Glancing around his room, everything looked the way it was meant to ... The engineer shakes his head, ignoring the way he’s being chastised for his sleeping habits and makes for the bathroom with a towel and a change of clothes; it’s not a long shower, much to his chagrin, because apparently he has an appointment to keep that he didn’t remember, but it’s enough to clean himself off and smell fresh as he rolls his way into the kitchen.

Making for the kitchen table, he sits down and looks at his plate of food. Sausage, eggs. Some toast. Why wasn’t this what he wanted? There was something he actually wanted - he swears he’d fallen asleep thinking about it.

Chewing through a sausage link, Cid stares around this room now, as if looking for something that was out of place.

“Somethin’ ain’t right,” he grumbles, to himself.