brôl ∙ laïn

Brawler Maiden Tifa Lockhart private • indie • select as penned by elisa established 2012

[exoriistos-blog]

          “Business is slow! Look; I was thinkin’. Maybe. Just           maybe. Y’ hire some new blood. Specifically some           young ladies. And maybe some kinda uniform. Yeah.           Skimpy. Rename the place! ‘Hooters’ sounds nice.”

[braulein]

“Did you know that I handle all the paperwork, around here? I know how the numbers look and honestly, business isn’t down. It’s the Friday before a major holiday, we’re bound to be slow...

Antonio-- We aren’t doing that. Maybe; just maybe... I was considering hiring an extra waitress, but if you’re going to be lecherous, I’ll just cover the shifts.” 

[exoriistos-blog]

          “Oh man, Tiff– That’s some really awful PDA           y’all got goin’ on over there, I’m jealous. Not           really. How’s blondie taking this?”

[braulein]

“-- don’t you have someone to seduce Tony, or is voyeurism your new venture? Honestly, I think doing your job should be  you biggest worry, not my relationship  with Cloud, Rude or anyone else.” 

[braulein]

Gingerly he reaches forward, ungloved fingers pressed to her own, and linger for a moment - right before there's a quick motion of the wrist, and a digit comes to gently /boop/ the pugilist on the nose.

Touching Fingers: I want to speak, but lack the words.Boop on the Nose: You’re adorable, you make me happy.

There is something akin to elation that always flares when he reaches out to her, for much of their steps into waters unknown have been with her leading. She knows that he is not very tactile, and she does not wish to rush him-- she will lead slowly, bend and be understanding. 

They both have history, for the landscape is marred with their own personal transgressions and the transgressions that they committed under a banner title, and history has been pushed aside for them to try something new; for them to find some peace in the wild and ever changing landscape that is their small planet. 

So they gave this a try.

Hesitance used to rule their relationship; that was before they were sure something like this would even work. That’s why elation builds in the pit of her stomach, butterflies actually flutter, and she’s not one to be love sick or a woman ruled by love-- there is no domination there, there was no struggle of what needed to be put first in her life. 

So, a smile graces her features when fingers come to hers for the briefest of moments, she does wish to lace her fingers through his, but she takes what she can get-- she keeps the small mementos, these gestures of affection are just for her-- even the small boop to the nose that catches her off guard. 

So she laughs, and takes what she can get, letting knuckles brush across his cheek a thumb gently tracing over skin, only to move to the balls of her toes and slowly lift herself from the ground so lips can dare graze where fingers once were, now fallen to his shoulder to steady her. 

Everything is so new, but they’ll make it work.

[silxnted-deactivated20190201]

         ’I wouldn’t know what to say,’     even if he had to.

Touch has always been a - no pun intended - touchy subject, something he’d had since the very beginning, but something to overcome with time and dedicated patience. Something he’s willing to work through for her sake, if she’s willing to walk with him; being able to return gentle affections, whisper sweet nothings. When he finds his voice again it’s nothing but a soft murmur.

“–I’d like to try. For you.”

[braulein]

Warmth flushes across her skin, and while she is no novice to infatuation-- there is something new, and confusing about this trek she has started with him. Fingers twitch for a moment, craving to come to his cheek so she could press another kiss to him, alas-- she restrains herself, for she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way. 

This has been a long and ardours road, for years ago they were attacking one another, but war and blind ambition, along with following orders did not define a person’s character-- for her mistakes did not define her, nor did his define him. So smile turns soft and wistful. 

 “No rush-- we’ll get there. ”

[anjiruhyure-blog]

A memory? He’s not fond of memories. Memories stick lazily in his teeth, settling into his bones, and stabbing pains up into everything that must rely on his bones for support. He knows the tightness in his rib-cage at night is not related to the cold, or the pneumonia that many of his troops contracted when stressed and aspirating the shit of war. ‘Shit’ is a very loose term for dust, mech parts, body parts, etc. He hated pneumonia; he wasn’t fond of memories either.

The noise startles him far too quickly, far too suddenly, and ‘shit’ crawls up from his proverbial lungs and into his not so proverbial head. It sits there, spreads like a sludge, and his vision is tinged in the colors of fresh Mako and blood when he opens his eyes.

The earth is tilled loose by his rapid movements, his gloved palms dragging across the ground and the heel of his boot kicking up a dirt clod. He’s tense, deep in his legs, and the tension crawls upwards. It settles in his shoulder blades, but it can’t stay there. There are wings there, spread out tense at his side before curling protectively around him, and the gaps between his feathers are large enough for him to peak through. He peaks, he looks, and what he sees is– not a soldier. Not one his head is frantically trying to tell him is there at least. He can’t profile her, simply because she doesn’t fit his profiles, and … he needs to calm down. His wing falls down, slowly, but he’s not calm. It’s fine; he’s fine. ‘ hello. ‘

He’s not fine.

[braulein]

Travel is a means of escape from her proverbial life, of course that’s partially a lie. There is nothing truly mundane about her life-- there are no stereotypes, for she does not have the picket fence, or the adoring husband,  and while she does have the two kids, almost three if she counts the blond that she takes care of as her own ( and it’s a maddening life ) there are no stereotypes that follow her. No PTA, no class meetings, she runs a bar-- but she’s tired of her routine, she aches for change. 

So, she ran for the foothills with a pack strapped to her back, hoping to find the reason that she continued to be so strong whispered through the winds, hoping for her to find some peace and meaning, hoping that her movements through the plains and clearings could have been lazy, so she could observe the countryside that she never saw when she traveled the planet all those years ago. However, there is nothing lackadaisical about her, she moved fluidly, trekking and trailblazing, unaided by materia and only carrying her gloves along with her go-pak.  

Alas, with the for before her, she should have found urgency to move and render aid if needed, for kindness had filled the rage in her heart that had left the day Sephiroth had returned to rest, and aiding those in need had become part of her trade, however feathers cause her blood to run cold for a moment, until the colour sparks a memory-- a flash of bright light and a gentle voice, a woman who gave it all away...but she doesn’t move. 

“Do you need help?”

[lannasroleplaymemes]

AFFECTION MEME

Send one of these from your muse to mine, or send me a  ➥  for their affections toward yours.  Created by @taka-yee​, reposted with their permission!

Fingers in Hair: I will treasure you. Hand on the Head: I think about you a lot. Kiss / Touch to Ear: I forgive / forgave you. Forehead to Forehead: I’m here / understand. Kiss on or around Eye: I don’t want you to be sad. Hesitant Touch: You’ve hurt me / I still care for you. Boop on the Nose: You’re adorable / make me happy. Kiss on the Cheek / Mouth: I love you / I’ve missed you. Touching the Chin: I want honesty / things to work out. Mouth on or near Neck: I want you / want to be with you. Touching the Neck / Shoulders: I want you to feel good. Leaning on Shoulder: I need you / your support right now. Kiss / Hand / Touch over Heart: I want your understanding. Kiss on the Wrist / Palm: I feel deeply connected to you. Holding Hands: I want to be reminded of your presence. Touching Fingers: I want to speak, but lack the words. Arm around Waist: I want you to be careful / feel safe. Touch on / Kiss to the Ribs: I regard you reverently. Hand on Lower Back: I’ll be by your side no matter. Hands on or near Hips: I feel possessive of you. Touch to Thigh: I want something more with you. Head on Lap: I trust you / feel safe with you. Hand on Knee: I am concerned for you. Other: Fill in what your muse does / feels!

[aseaofquotes]

Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy

[danseru-kun]

The 7th Heaven interior

How big is the space?

How many rooms are there?

What stuff can we see?

Does it make sense?

I took a lot of screencaps to try to estimate the size of the space.  Note that this is purely an estimate and should not be taken as highly accurate. I also didn’t include some of the easter eggs that are usually mentioned in many articles already. 

Keep reading

[braulein]

anjiruhyure:

There is one thing Modeoheim did not have: sun. 

Well, no, there were other things Modeoheim didn’t have, but he missed the sun the most. Or he said he did, to himself, to stave off the unpleasantries that came with– well– his existence. Unpleasantries that force him to trudge through blizzards, down through snow, to where the wind was calm enough for him to safely fly. He can stop to rest though, even if he doesn’t need it, but that’s beside the point. The sun felt nice, the grass felt nice, and stretching his wing out for no good reason was nice.

‘ … ‘

Reprieve is rarely granted.

Yet, she makes a way for one, regardless of time constraints. So, the mountains call for her. And while she is not as lithe as she was all those years ago-- she is still as strong enough to forge her path through the winding paths that litter the range. While they are no longer as infested with monsters and creatures of design it is still a fight through her trek-- regardless of what aids she had brought with her. 

There are not many others that dare to forge these paths, due to the steep ranges and changes in temperature when the sun sets, but a figure across the moor catches her eyes, and ruby gaze is transfixed for a moment-- a memory stirs at the sight, but that is forced down as she moves through the clearing. 

“I-- hello?”

[braulein]

shinradiehard:

Another sigh, this one accompanied by a worrying shudder of his shoulders.  Despite his reeling mind he’s content to rest there in silence, enjoying the lingering scent of her shampoo and the softness of her skin and–

Everything he was afraid of losing.

“No more secrets.  Right.”

His words sound forced, uncertain, as though it’s taking extra effort for him to speak.  It’d been years since he’d last been like this.  Turks were very, very good at boxing and bottling up unneeded, dangerous emotions like fear and god forbid– sadness.  And while he wasn’t as good at it as the others, he still managed to sweep enough of his feelings under the rug so that he could continue to function.

But every box and bottle can only hold so much and with enough time, they burst.

Meltdowns in Turks weren’t rare, not by a longshot.  They were just…well-contained. Mental breakdowns were usually confined to soundproofed dorms or offices or the middle of god damn nowhere.  Living a domestic life like this, though?  Well, it was bound to happen.  It was just a matter of time.  Everything was.

“Things with the WRO are gettin’ bad, Teef.”

He shudders again and can feel his chest tighten in a way he hated.  A way that reminded him how weak, how human he was.  It made him nauseous to keep fighting it, but he had to.  Maybe not for Tifa’s sake, but his own.

“An’…I’m scared.  Not of them, but for us.  I’m scared of losin’ this.  All I–”

No, that’s wrong.

“All we’ve worked for.  Me, you, Rude, the kids–”

Gods, the kids.  What would he do if anything ever happened to them?  If the WRO raided the bar or headed him off while taking them home from school or–

His eyes felt wet and again he hated it with every shaking, tensed fiber of his being.  Reno buries his face into Tifa’s hair and hopes and prays its enough to muffle the weak, childish sob that he chokes out against his will.

Of course she hears his words. 

And she’s sure his fears are valid, but he and Rude have done a very good job at keeping distressing topics away from their personal life. While they had their rule of honesty, she had been fairly lax with what she wanted to know about ShinRa and the WRO. The WRO had switched hands years ago, Shelke had gone missing-- Yuffie had become Empress, Reeve was grappling with his own illnesses and the lawsuit after lawsuit came for Rufus, and while Tifa knew the bare bones of the news, Reno and Rude had kept her thoroughly out of the loop-- not because of any malcontent reason or distrust, she had left the worrying to Reno ( and Rude ) for too long, her focus had been Denzel, Eris, Zach and Loz ( even Marlene and Cloud by extension ).

So, she listens-- arms looping around his neck again. It’s a lax hold, but effective. And she knows that her focus has to shift, things have to change-- Reno shouldn’t be the only one fighting all of this alone, so she shushes him, much like she used to shush Zach when he was up all night with colic. Reno has a point, and fear grips her for a moment-- it’s a hard, strangling sensation in the back of her throat, it almost makes it hard to breathe for a moment, but she swallows it down. She’s the rock at the moment, her job is to care for Reno, not be paralyzed with the fear of what if.

“Reno-- I know you and Rude aren’t good at this, but you have to tell me these things, and regardless of how bad it gets-- I know you’ve already thought of a dozen ways to get us out of this foxhole. But, for now, we are here and we are safe. We take everything one day at a time.”

“And you hold onto the thought that I love you so much. We will see this through, no matter what we have to do-- we will keep each other safe.”

[braulein]

Continued from here

She doesn’t linger for more than a moment. Lips leave his crown, but lidded glance lingers for a moment more, free hand coming to ghost the line of his jaw for a moment before even that too retreats, hand falling to her side ( but gaze remaining ). 

“Rude-- “

For she doesn’t know how how comfortable he is with touch, and that doesn’t bother her. 

She honestly does not mind that he is a man of few words. She honestly likes that about him, for many years she’s surrounded herself with men and women who drink and talk too much. Sometimes actions and responses speak so much louder than words-- and his reaction to her sudden affection is all she needs. 

“You don’t have to ever say anything.”

[lundsandbyerlys]

Rotisserie Chicken Remix: Buffalo Chicken Rotini

Looking for a way to spice up your weeknight dinner routine? Pick up a rotisserie chicken from our deli and make this super satisfying Buffalo chicken pasta.

Start by cooking a box of rotini according to the package directions and drain. In the same pan, mix in shredded rotisserie chicken, one bottle of Buffalo sauce and blue cheese crumbles. Serve with additional blue cheese on the side.

Look for 6 Buck Cluck every Friday in our deli, where you can get a Lunds & Byerlys Rotisserie Chicken for just $6.

[silxnted-deactivated20190201]

                    “–Hello.”

                              “Hell no.”

[venomusuneku]

[braulein]

shinradiehard:

Ah, his one true weakness– Physical contact. The shift in position elicits a quiet ‘oof’ from the man but that’s the closest thing to a complaint she gets, if it can even be called that.  Once Tifa has settled the Turk melts into the couch in time with an exhausted sigh.  He takes a long time simply enjoying her company–she had to go for the hair, huh?–before speaking up again, albeit quieter this time.

“Old habits ‘n all that.”

A pause.  One could practically hear the gears in his head turning.  Bluegreen eyes flick downwards to stare into the fighter’s and Reno’s voice is even softer than before as he admits something Turks rarely do.

“I’m–”

“I’m scared, Teef.”

For a moment, she enjoys the gentle affection between the two, his steady breathing is almost soothing, and she loves the way he just lets her play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Years ago she would have never dreamed of being in this place, eyes half ready to close in contentment, in safety-- but that moment is jostled away with his words. 

They’d made a pact years ago that they wouldn’t let things eat away at them, and she supposed things were easier said than done, for she still held on to some animosities and fears, the wavering doubt that she would be left behind--

And yet-- here she was with someone she adored. And at his gentle admission, she shifts letting her hands fall from his neck and letting them lax on his back, almost daring to rake her nails over his shoulders, but she simply ducks her head into the crook of his neck, pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

“No more secrets-- okay? Just like we promised.”

Mind flutters for a moment, and she then lowers her voice to match his. 

“You aren’t the only one, Reno, but, I love you-- talk to me.”

[yummyinmytumbly]

easy springtime crockpot minestrone

[braulein]

shinradiehard:

Oh how badly he wanted to say yes.  Yes I’d like the night off so I can get shitfaced and pass out early.  Yes I’d like the night off so I can numb my mind with stupid TV or something instead of the constant drone of radio chatter.  Yes please yes–

“Nah girly, ya know me better than that.  A job’s a job, yo!  I’ll be fine, I’m tough.”

God damnit.

“Thanks, though.”

And with that Tifa moves-- yanking her arm away for a brief moment only to have it be slung over her partner’s shoulders as she lowered herself into his lap. She was honestly done with everyone acting tough when she knew that the issues plaguing them were starting to eat at them more and more as the days passed.

She was tired of people being tough-- they were allowed to be tired and take a breather, and maybe Reno didn’t quite get that memo, but she understood it loud and clear. Lips purse for a brief moment before turning into a hard pout-- hands that were thrown over his shoulders seeking out his hair. 

“You don’t always have to use the tough guy act, you know.” It doesn’t work anymore.