#size--matters

Ask my muse extremely personal questions! || @size--matters

What was the scariest moment you’ve had in public?

“The first time I had to give a speech for my First Majority, at sixteen. I’d appeared in public before, don’t get me wrong-- carefully monitored situations for photos, waving for the camera, smiling and looking nice. But a speech, even if I had a script, it was terrifying. I think I managed not to barf on anyone.”

What gives you nostalgia?

“Let’s see....long drives. The scent of brewed coffee, taking pictures and adjusting filters on them using a photography app or so. Eating at burger joints. Visiting chocobo farms, and the Citadel’s astronomy tower.”

Who is someone you’ve cut out of your life, or wanted too, and why?

Zack was hardly standing, he was leaning on his sword for support. He knew he had to find help somewhere, even if they weren’t too accepting of SOLDIER’s. He had been attempting to see if he could find Aerith, but she hadn’t been at the church. Seeing no other place where he could possibly get help, he had remembered her mentioning the Leaf House a few times. He had only hoped they’d be willing to help him.

“T-Thank you...” his voice barely above a whisper. Zack easily taking the man's help, noticing how warm the other’s skin felt against his own. Was he really that cold? Sword being rested against the front of the house, Zack waited for the other to get one of the doctors. Desperately holding on the shreds on consciousness he had. How did he drag himself from outside Midgar to here in his condition? Even he had no clue.

:)

:) 

I love you

    at first, he’s not sure exactly what it is biggs is trying to do. one brow quirks  &  furrows, a kind of anxiety welling in the pit of his stomach. their conversation had been fairly casual;  a little more personal than he’s used to, but nothing too deep.  ‘ nothing warranting ... ’  this.  his own body is buzzing, and he tells himself it’s the alcohol   ——  that though he’d never admit it out loud, he doesn’t drink often:  is kind of a lightweight.  his mind’s going a hundred miles an hour, and by the time he can think to react, biggs is already far too close.

    the nape of his neck  /  the tips of his ears begin to burn a soft red, and there’s nothing he can do to will it away. just as it’s about to happen  (   ——  and he doesn’t even allow himself the opportunity to think about what  ‘ it ’  almost was  )  cloud lifts a hand, settling it against his friend  /  acquaintance  /  comrade’s  mouth. not the most eloquent way to deny someone, but it had been a knee-jerk reaction;  a flurry of nerves willing him to act.  “ i ... i think you’ve had enough to drink, man. ”  he manages, tentatively tugging his hand away.

@size--matters hit 💙 for a starter!

Reeve was only one man; his power, though leagues above that held by anyone groundside, was finite. He knew that; had had to accept it or lose his mind trying to fix every problem in the slums -- or lose his soul and simply give up.

However, there were still little things he could fix, like a mako leak.

Ordinarily, he might have just called for one of his engineers to come down and fix it -- but it was far too close to where the local children were playing. Nobody yet knew the long-term effects of exposure to mako particulate, and he wasn’t willing to use these children as guinea pigs.

It was the work of a half hour to open up the panel, figure out what was wrong, and painstakingly patch it. He’d still call an engineer down for a proper fix, but this should hold for half a year at the least.

He closed the panel firmly and slipped his tool packet into his breast pocket -- and realised he was being watched.