#ffmodernau

[cacodemum]

Heiress

[cacodemum]

Larsa x Vanille. do like 20 one-sentence fics :| :| :|

My OTP ahgifnksdgjkd;g HAVE 20 FICS. Modern AU obviously, because precious babies and somewhat established points to work from yes good. Some are run-on/companion sentences because I can. 

[x] 

>> His eyes were captivating and expressive, to the point Vanille wondered if they could have a conversation through looks alone. 

>> It began with friendship, both were equally curious of one another after all.

>> When he'd found out she loved plants, especially flowers, he took her to the botanic gardens of Archades; the look of wonder on her face at seeing so many new varieties warmed his heart. 

>> At the end of their first night out together he escorted her home and kissed her hand in the most chivalrous way at the door. 

>> When they officially began courting the Archadian media went into a frenzy, and for once Vanille couldn't find it in herself to care what lies they might be spinning this time.

>> "I think," she whispered timidly, suddenly aware of how close together they were, "that I'm quite in love with you Larsa Solidor." 

>> He kissed her under the stars.

>> "Does he make you happy, Lady Vanille?" Gabranth asked suddenly during one of their late nights up working.

>> "Like you wouldn't believe," and she smiled so radiantly, fingers unconsciously reaching for the pendant around her neck that Larsa'd given her at the thought of him.

>> One summer she took him home to Oerba, and she wondered if it were possible to love him more than she did when his natural curiosity saw him take to village life like a duck to water.

>> Nirvana liked Larsa, the chocobo preening his hair and parading the hills with him on her back while Vanille fondly sketched them.

>> Vanille moved like fire and water rolled into one-- swathed in richly dyed fabrics, she danced for her people in a tradition that was ancient and well rooted, elders of the clan and high priests singing praises to Pulse for a bountiful harvest in the year to come. 

>> “Close your mouth, Larsa” Gabranth quietly chuckled beside him; blushing, the young man cleared his throat and did just that.

>> He proposed to her in a field of flowers, expressive eyes conveying words his mouth couldn't.

>> She'd found the mirror to her soul in him, and when he'd asked there was only one answer: yes.

>> "Do you like it here?" Larsa murmured softly into her ear as they watched the sun set on their first night in Bhujerba-- and Vanille leant further into him, relishing their closeness as he drew his arms across her shoulders.

>> A kiss ghosted the edge of her ear where words had preceded, she giggled softly, "I love it." 

>> Larsa found himself speechless as Gabranth walked her down the aisle to him, dressed in the richest of Oerban silks, and eyes shining with excitement.

>> Fang gifted them with a silver chocobo chick, both a 'welcome to the family' gift for Larsa and something of a tradition-- the village chief remarked that it's shimmery down reminded her of her new brother-in-law's sharp eyes.

>> Vanille found it hard to leave bed some mornings, not because she was tired, but simply because she was content in her husband's arms.

[saintajora]

[majoradhd-blog]

Wash it all Away

The first few notes of storm-song rang out through the shop, for once quiet since most of the guys were on break, and Zack was perched in his favorite spot up in the loft, staring out past the roof of corrugated steel. Rain began falling softly on the roof, intermixed with the soft basso of thunder and the occasional sharp tenor that was lightning, bold and brilliant. The rain, however, tied it together, and he relaxed into a pile of old sacking, leaning his head back to let the cool, ozone-scent breeze wash over him.

Rain had once bothered him; it always seemed to bring misery and grief to his parents, and flooding around the small village that they called home. He hadn't understood why poets and authors always spoke of it in a cleansing fashion; he'd seen rivers scythe lives and houses away, tearing the very earth apart with vicious fury, and so feared the rains that when he'd gone to Midgar...he'd been thankful that the metropolis rarely, if ever, got any serious rainfall. 

Here, though...here, it was a gentle balm, and once his initial reactions had been calmed...he'd discovered that he rather liked it. It soothed his senses, worn raw with worry and stress, eased his grief and pain...He pulled himself upright with a careless ease, and slid out one of the large skylights, easing his way over the ripple roof, feeling a surge of excitement as the first fat drops hit his face. 

Carefully, he sat down, sweetly scented water smoothing down his spiky hair, freeing the grease and oil to slip away, first damping, then soaking into his dark clothing, beading across his tanned, scarred skin. Slowly, he turned his head upwards, a tremulous, happy smile smoothing the creases and wrinkles, and with a soft sigh, he let the rain wash all his troubles away.

[majoradhd-blog]

Shadowed Skies

Zack's old, beat-up PHS chimed shrilly from its perch on his toolbox; it was so shrill, in fact, that a loudthunk, and a very inventive array of swearwords could be heard from underneath the floorboards of what could only be described as a smaller version of one of the huge Shadowfox trucks used back in Midgar. Of course, this was a simple van, a little torn up, and a very unattractive shade of puke green, but it was a comfortable ride...once the transmission was back in it. The former soldier rolled out from underneath his hippie monstrosity, and answered with an irritated huff, an unlit cigarette migrating to his lips.

"Zack Fair speaking." He listened for a moment, frowning as he fought with his lighter, his attention suddenly diverted by the woman's cool words. "Whaddya mean, he's in the hospital?! Why wasn't I called before this?!" Her response was infinitely colder, and he growled out a warning, snapping the cig in two. "I'll be there shortly. Do NOT let him out of your sights." Heaving himself up off of the dolly, he strode toward his own motorcycle, Baldur, twin to Fenrir, and tore off down the road. It paid to have your own mechanic shop at times, and he was glad that the manager would lock up.

Cloud, you idiot...why in the HELL are you taking that shit...you know what it does...you know better than even I do.No matter...he knew the reasons, even if Cloud wouldn't tell him. All he had to do was stay awake long after the blonde, and his answers came in nightmares and a hissed voice. A voice he'd give anything to forget. Of course the mako helped...but no matter. It'd take the last of his ready cash and several large favors to get the blonde out now...

Soon enough, he'd pulled up to the hospital, and while there was a fuss about letting him in in his overalls and covered in grease, a familiar face led him back into a small isolation room, where Johnny, once an aspiring bar owner, now worked as a detective, his suit only a little shabbier than the Turks. "Zack, you have got to find out how he got that stuff...it's hellishly potent.Hecan handle it...barely. A normal human? Not a chance in hell."

"I know..."

"Do you, really? Because I've heard a few rumors about you yourself, about former 'allies'-"

"You heard wrong." The ice in Zack's voice was enough to chill the air, and furious, darkened blue-violet eyes glared down at the smaller man, enough to cow a thousand or more cadets back in the day. Johnny seemed slightly nonplussed, at least; as Zack moved to sit next to Cloud, his tone became apologetic.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. I never want to hear those damned words again. Now leave." When he hesitated, one eye narrowed over Zack's shoulder. "You'll get your damned source. Now leave, before I make you." As the man scuttled away, he turned back to Cloud's prone form, settling back in his chair.

"Dammit, Cloud...why? Why can't you talk to me about this shit? Why am I the one always left to pick up the pieces..."