#(they live and thrive in absolute chaos and mayhem and destruction)
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#ARCHIEEEE#ARCHIE OH MY GODDDD#HES SO DUMB DUMN INLOVE HIM W ALL MY HEART#LOVE THEM LOVE THEM LOVE THEM#SMACKING MY PALMS ON THE FLOOR#his lil 'thanks dee!' and my brain provides the audio clip#from canon the wrestling episode when don 'gives' mike the last slice of pizza#I KNOW I SAY IT EVERY TIME BUT#EVEN EVIL!!! THEYRE STILL!!!! THEMSELVES!!!!#AND THAT IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEE#AHHHH#villian pb&j duo#rb#FAVE#AS USUAL W UR STUFF#also unsoliceted advice warning but! if u love the brush but dont love the end results#maybe try slappin some layers of just pure noise and texture on there#and make them clipping masks specific to ur linework layer#and/or boosting the sharpness way tf up!! tho everytime i try that in procreate it dont do shit :'(#(also. why do these sillies especially make me some flippin excited for moments of angst??)#(like we know these boys are like practically explosion proof. draxy said super soldiers and he deffo delivered)#(they live and thrive in absolute chaos and mayhem and destruction)#(makes u wonder bout the level of destruction there must have been when shit went wrong đ)#(and maybe im just too much an anxious older sibling but like. i am holding my breath a little every time)#(theres like that moment. when a group of kids are playing and one of them gets hurt)#(and it takes a second for everyone else to realize that we arent playing anymore)#(that something is wrong)#(its like that sinking swooping sensation. and you can see it on their faces)#(and i feel like im sitting here. watching these two gremlins start chaos and fires. and we are laughing toggether)#(but i am waiting for that swoop. and i am watching their faces.)
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an FYI ~
Without a doubt, Iâve been distracted from RP but I digress⊠Iâve also been dipping into fanficland, a Strifehart feels run being my first instalment yet to come.
A snippet below, I guess? Iâm quite dubious when sharing as I sometimes feel I donât get Squall just right, let alone other characters⊠ergo, this leap of faith? Eh. Enjoy what will come, I guess?
Brief synopsis; Cloud is a werewolf that lives in the world of FF8. Other characters will appear, but for now, Strifehart mains~
In the beginning, not all was well. Those born from extraordinary circumstances â âMythicsâ â were scorned, exiled from belonging in any place of man due to their collective (misplaced) fear; of not knowing what they might do, despite not knowing what they might not do.Â
Long, tedious battles took place, sometimes figuratively, mostly physically, until one fateful day, a breakthrough finally happened. One man, known among mankind as a hero of their time, used his influence over the world to fight for them, and he fought fiercely for their rights as living beings to survive and thrive with everyday people.Â
Vampires, once feared through centuries of misrepresentation and slander, strolled about in broad daylight, dressed head-to-toe in protective gear, specialised to deflect the life-threatening UV rays. Werewolves, once thought of as nothing but mindless monstrosities carrying an uncontrollable, infectious disease, walked among the public without fears of being ruthlessly hunted. Fairies, demons, pixies, sirens â so many Mythics roaming freely for, potentially, the first time in their lives.Â
**Â
Squall Leonhart was, for lack of a better term, fed up.Â
Why, one might inquire? Simply put, in the outskirts of Winhill, heâd purchased a luxuriously large plot of land and set up a homely ranch-slash-house for himself. The final decision to settle down in the middle of nowhere was partially due to the beautiful scenery, mostly from the unrivalled privacy and his overwhelming need to stay out of the limelight to enjoy his reluctant retirement. On the land roamed a few dozen chickens, some cows, a random goat or two, and a grumpy old chocobo that wandered in one day and stayed, allegedly liking what she saw (and whom heâd fondly named Chocorita â he wasnât great at naming things, sue him).Â
In the solitude of Winhill and the mountains, heâd expected peace. For the first time in his life, he wanted to take it slow, to relax and maybe take up a boring hobby that kept him off his feet (just as the doctor prescribed, ugh). Instead, anywhere he went, he got chaos. Destruction, mayhem, calamity, regardless of how minor or extreme. Natural, man-made and in-between, there was no way to escape his horrendous luck.Â
Such was what had him out of bed at an ungodly hour one morning, standing in nothing but fraying-at-the-edges pyjama pants and worn out boots in long need of replacing, staring in utter disdain and absolute exasperation at his hen house⊠that was currently being ravaged by a gigantic, rugged as heck, wolf. Flashlight pointing directly at the offending creature, which halted on the spot like a deer caught in headlights the moment the beam landed on its furry hide, unblinking eyes on Squall as he glared back his unrelenting disgust.Â
Why. Just why.Â
ââŠI use these for eggs!â he howled, agitation and exhaustion (with everything) winning over any common sense warning him to back away from the potentially dangerous beast, waving his only viable weapon of a flickering flashlight at the frozen mongrel. Who, to his complete surprise, dropped the feathery carcass like the soft exterior burned and fucking scampered away in (what he could only describe as) unbridled terror, wispy tail tucked firmly between long legs. Silence crept in around Squall, apart from the occasional chirping cricket, as he stared in the direction the wolf fled, trying to process what just happened.Â
After a moment of further consideration, he shook his head roughly, forever in his way hair falling over his face as he clapped a palm to it, running it down while groaning in defeated frustration. Miles and miles of forest teeming with wildlife just as easy to catch, plus neighbouring placements just a few clicks out, and⊠it was still him that was ransacked. Hand lowering, noticing the flashlight beam gradually dimming, he deemed it time to call it a night. One wearily curious glance after the thieving mutt was all he spared before turning on his heel and wobbling his way back inside to the persistent light and welcoming aircon.Â
Heâd deal with the chickens come sunrise.Â
**Â
Come morning, a more reasonable morning, someone had the nerve to knock loudly on Squallâs front door. With his establishment being all ground floor, noises travelled quickly and efficiently. Thus, obnoxious banging woke him from a restless sleep despite his bedroom being in the furthest corner away from the main hall. Blissful silence occurred briefly, his pounding head welcoming the peace, before it was rudely interrupted with, yet again, more incessant knocking. It seemed his unwanted visitor wasnât giving in.Â
Groaning lowly to himself, Squallâs right arm raised and flew to cover his eyes, knowing full well if he were to open them immediately, heâd be temporarily blinded by radiant sunshine. Despite having blinds that supposedly repelled sunlight, he still woke most mornings by an impish beam to the face. One of the wonderful things about living in Winhill was the endless sunshine, but it was also one of the worst. Contemplating his next move while gingerly stretching out tender limbs, he barely refrained from growling aloud in annoyance when more knocking came.Â
He was going to deck whoever it was VIP status (Laguna) or not (Seifer).Â
Grudgingly, he removed his arm and squinted his eyes as they slowly peeled open, pre-emptively braced. Lightly shaking off the familiar numbness filtering in from his left leg, Squall sluggishly pushed himself up and to the edge of his bed to sit. Running a hand through his hair while the other provided a sturdy support as he leant back, he didnât care to stifle the bothersome yawn momentarily clouding his mind. Scratching an itch to the rear of his skull, he blinked his eyes a few more times before he was ready to combat natureâs wakeup call.Â
Or fates, if the knock, knock, knocking was any implication.Â
âYeah, yeah⊠on my way,â he mumbled to none as he forced himself up. Wavering slightly to start, he used the headboard to help stabilise his equilibrium. Taking a moment to ensure his balance was up to par, he surged on with murderous intent. Well⊠more like waddled on like an angry duckling â he doubted anyone would take him seriously with an unfortunate case of bedhead (fluffy, sticking up everywhere, untameable; heâd tried, trust him) and wearing only pyjama pants with a hole in the left knee. Muttering darkly to himself as he marched onward, soft carpet beneath his feet turned into solid wood, one click sounding for every two steps he took. Obviously, heâd forgotten socks in his eagerness to return to bed last night.Â
Finally, he reached the front door, solid wood slash metal with a singular, one-way peephole embedded and grabbed the slick metal handle, twisted the key to unlock and all but yanked the thing open like it caused him great offence. Not the door at least, but the one standing on the opposite side had. âWhatâs your goddamn problemâŠ?!â Squall fired out instantly, although some of the ferocity died down by his fourth word at seeing who was there.Â
A man, possibly around his age, with hair worse than his own sticking up all over the place (platinum blond, didnât look dyed â cute), skin pale enough to suggest heâd never seen sunlight, let alone been outside in it and the brightest blue eyes Squall had ever seen staring at him widely, looking oddly innocent despite being stuck to a grown adult⊠and oddly familiar. If only to add to Squallâs ludicrous attraction to the man, a rosy tint overtook definitely illegal cheekbones and the man, whoâd been staring relentlessly, dropped his adorable gaze bashfully and rambled under his breath.Â
Squall struggled to hear, features automatically down turning into something reminiscent of a scowl. His unfortunate visitor caught the look and perceived it to be for him, rather than Squallâs lacklustre hearing. âIâIâm sorry for the early morning call but I couldnât wait any longer. My nameâsâuh, Cloud Strife, and I, Iâm your new neighbour,â he, allegedly Cloud, said, rather rapidly and in a tone that suggested questionable embarrassment and⊠guilt? âI happened to be passing by when I figured itâitâd be neighbourly to give you a welcoming presentââ Wait, wasnât that supposed to be the other way around? Squall was becoming more puzzled by the second, yet he continued to watch the blond ramble. ââso, I, I have something. For you. If you want them?âÂ
When Cloud concluded his introduction, Squall simply stared. Blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes with the palm of a hand to ensure that yes, he was awake, and yes, there was potentially the cutest blond idiot babbling on his doorstep just after sunrise. Said blond peek at him coyly through his bangs and Squallâs heart skipped a beat.Â
Well, at least he knew his eyesight was still functioning well.Â
âI⊠sure?â he replied, more of a question than a response, but it seemed to suit Cloudâs expectations perfectly.Â
His neighbour hopped to attention and beckoned Squall over with enthusiastic waves of his whole arm, looking him up and down when he suddenly stopped. In an instant, Squallâs guard rose as he watched where that sky-blue gaze fell, hackles instinctively prepared. A heartbeat past and⊠Cloud simply shook his head and said, âSorry, shoesâIâll let you put on some shoes.âÂ
And that expelled any suspicion Squall held over that inquisitive gaze. If he hadnât caught himself, he wouldâve expressed a small smile at the blondâs antics. He blamed his messed-up sense of defence and common sense on his lack of sleep. Making to abide by Cloudâs reasonable suggestion, he slid his sockless feet into his trusty boots, left one stiffer than the right, and grabbed a jacket from the hooks by the door. Pulling on the coat to make himself at least semi-decent, he stepped outside into the already harsh warmth of the summer sun and joined Cloudâs side. Who had waited for him in the exact position heâd stopped in and not another glance was thrown downwards to Squallâs feet.Â
He didnât know whether to be impressed by someoneâs apparent self-control or see if he couldnât torment the man for looking in the first place. The sassier, snappier side of him wanted anyone that stared to suffer first-hand mortification, but somehow, Cloud slipped by and made his way to the âsimply impressedâ side.Â
Following his energetic neighbour to wherever he deemed necessary, Squall took the opportunity from lingering somewhat behind to check him out. A faded-check shirt was atop a sleeveless black tank-top, black combat pants with thick-soled biker boots, and twin (again, you guessed it) black fingerless gloves shielding strong-looking hands. Screw his hands, when they stopped by a monstrous, fucking fantastic motorcycle parked just off the driveway, Cloudâs shirt sleeves pulled up when the blond lifted something that had been secured to the rear of the bike and Squall saw jaw-dropping muscle definition on his arms alone.Â
Silently, the gremlin part of his brain prayed for gale-force winds to suddenly whip up and rip the clothes from his neighbourâs body so Squall could check out the rest of him. Decisively, he ignored it.Â
What was impossible to ignore was the crate Cloud was carrying, filled with⊠chickens? Improbable as it seemed considering the already perplexing introduction, Squall found himself feeling off-balance on how to respond or what to respond with. Why on earth was Cloud presenting hens to him? It seemed absurdly coincidental that he lost such birds the night before to the foul mutt⊠Stormy eyes squinted at still-radiating-innocence blue and popped his right hand on his corresponding hip. ââŠDo you have a dog?âÂ
Weirdly, Cloud fumbled with the crate at Squallâs legitimate question, the wooden box and livestock inside nearly falling directly onto booted feet. Immaculate reflexes avoided disaster, though the same couldnât be said for the man himself. âDog?â was Cloudâs inquiring reply as he straightened up, voice going oddly high-pitched as though he felt targeted by Squallâs suspicion⊠which he was, he supposed, and the given reaction wasnât helping Cloudâs case. âNoâno, I have no animals. Why?âÂ
He studied Cloud in brief silence, offering a meek shrug soon after, hand falling from its perch back to his side. âNo reason.â And now back to the topic at hand: âWhy have you brought me chickens?â And why would you think I need any, his mind finished for him. Patiently, he waited.Â
Cloud toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking everywhere but Squall. Almost like he struggled to think of a valid reason. ShadyâŠÂ In the moment of muteness, Squallâs focus shifted to the sleek machine stationed just behind them. The coat was midnight-black and shimmered in the sunlight majestically. Thicker than most two-wheelers heâd seen in his lifetime, potentially heavier from the additional compartments his keen eyesight made out, and two front wheels instead of the usual one⊠Simply put, it was a work of art and Squall was yet to find any piece of machinery he couldnât wholly admire. Wonder what itâs like to rideâŠÂ
âIâI noticed you have a ranch and figured you could never have too many chickens.â If that wasnât the lamest excuse Squall had heard in a long while⊠and he was friends with both Rinoa and Selphie. âSoâtake them?âÂ
Earnest blue eyes practically begged him, and the box was shoved his way suggestively, Squallâs answer was simple. He hadnât the heart to tell the allegedly generous man ânoâ. ââŠFine,â he sighed, growing instantly pensive when Cloud beamed â like he was doing the blond a favour by taking the hens. Were they infected or something? âBring them this way,â he continued quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the main coop. Since he was already holding it, why not make use of Cloud a little longer? âI didnât see you move in,â he commented as they began to walk, the blond keeping pace with his slightly stunted one.Â
If Squall was to describe the stream of expressions that flitted over Cloudâs face in the next moment, heâd be there all day. The blond chose to settle on sheepishness with a matching smile. âIt was a quick overnight thing⊠didnât have much to unpack,â Cloud murmured, keeping his eyes facing forward to avoid further contact with Squallâs.Â
Everything about him set off warning bells inside Squallâs mind but he couldnât make heads or tails of what or why. Was it due to his own reclusive nature and the fact heâd evaded human interactions as much as realistically possible over the last few months, that simple conversation with new people was putting him on-guard? Too mindful over what everyone thought about him now? Shiva, he needed to get a hobby other than overthinking. Fat lot of help it was in the past.Â
Thankfully, Cloud neither glanced his way to assume Squallâs souring mood was his fault or commented on the silence dragging between them as they strode on. It was only when the wooden hutch was in sight that Squall recalled last nightâs problem â deceased chickens all over the place. Great, now Cloud would assume he was a disturbed maniac that feasted upon the flesh of the poor birds that had been ripped apart âÂ
Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Squall stared openly at the area surrounding his hen house. Cloud also paused, eyes sweeping up in an inquisitive manner, but voiced nothing. Again, he was grateful for the blondâs apparent love of silence because he wouldnât know what to say as the entire ground was clean. No residue blood, no scattered feathers, no messy carcasses â hell, it looked like someone had swept the floor, too. Picking apart his brain for plausible solutions to the glaring problem encountered, he came up empty and his only reward was undiluted bewilderment.Â
Eventually though, Cloud broke the silent treaty and asked, quite reasonably, âIs, uh, everything okay?âÂ
Surprisingly speechless, Squall turned his head to bring the virtuous blond into view, who was genuinely asking from misguided concern about his wellbeing. But⊠what could he honestly say? âOh, yesterday there was numerous bodies littering the floor and now theyâve miraculously gone!â Pfft, not likely. Flicking out his tongue to swipe along his bottom lip (noting idly how blue eyes seemed to follow the motion), he finally nodded and resolved to not telling the truth. âPhantom pains,â he said shortly, hoping the tone of voice dissuaded further questions. Luckily, Cloud complied but dropped his gaze out of apparent embarrassment again and Squall felt his chest squeeze. He hated feeling guilty. âHappens all the time, donât worry about it.âÂ
Hopeful eyes raised to greet his and Squall determined that shade of blue to be illegal now. Everything about Cloud was illegal. âIâI understand,â Cloud said, nodding in sincere comprehension, hefting the crate a little higher. âShould I just set this down and free them, orâŠ?âÂ
Right, the chickens. Squall nodded once. âYeah, free roaming and all that.âÂ
ââN all that,â Cloud echoed with a faint smile, placing the box gently on the (clean!) floor. Nimble fingers worked over the latches holding the front plate on and a second later, three golden birds scooted out, interested in their newfound freedom and unfamiliar surroundings. He watched Cloud watch them closely, like he was wishing for the hens to accept their new home without complications. Seemingly, it was granted as all three clucked and shot off towards the coop, fluttered up the ramp and out of sight through the swinging door. He smiled, looking up at Squall from where he crouched. âThey seem to like it here.âÂ
Squallâs brain was apparently malfunctioning and his brain-to-mouth filter broke, as the next moment after nodding in agreement to Cloudâs statement, he spewed out, âI think you would too if you wanna join me for coffee?âÂ
An awkward pause ensued. While Squall wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole (like it apparently did to his poor chickens), Cloud, rightfully so, stared as him like another head just popped out of his shoulder. Dazed blue eyes blinked a few times while the blond visibly contemplated his next move, or words. He, being the gentleman he was, figured it was only fair to give Cloud a way out and opened his mouth to withdraw the offer with as much nonchalance as he could mister, but Cloud beat him to it.Â
A slight raise of a shoulder and an uncertain but curious smile sketched onto his face, murmuring, âWe could go to the townâI do need a guide and Iâm sure thereâs a cafĂ© somewhere.âÂ
Squall paused. Cloud was not only accepting his pre-morning-coffee suggestion but was entertaining further interaction with his lunatic of a neighbour. It was impossible that heâd made a good impression so early, so the simplest deduction was Cloud being masochistic and liking the pain that came alongside social interactions with hermits like himself. Raising a hand to ruffle the hair waving in his face, he ignored the background clucks of his regular hens coming over to inspect the ground for food (since he was out and provider of said nutrients), eyed Cloud with a weariness that came naturally to him and, beyond all reason, nodded his agreement. âAlright. Iâll be ready in five.âÂ
Promptly, he made his way back to the front of the house. Once there, he glanced back slightly over his shoulder and queried, âMy truck or your bike?âÂ
Cloud, who tailed him closely like a lost puppy, lit up the yard with the smirk he sent Squall. âBikeâunless you canât handle it.âÂ
Squallâs eyes narrowed in playful challenge. Not that anyone outside his inner circle knew what it looked like. âFive minutes, Strife.âÂ
âA second past that and Iâm assuming youâve backed outâuh,â Cloud paused midway into his retaliation and Squall realised he was yet to introduce himself. With a slither of awkwardness, the blond found an interesting patch on the floor to stare at, apparently incapable of asking a simple question.Â
Squall decided to put Cloud out of his misery. Almost. âLeon.âÂ
It was daft how adorable it was when Cloud perked up at the revelation. He nodded, quirking him a half-smile. âLeonâtick tock.âÂ
Squall huffed in earnest astonishment from his neighbourâs audacity (and the depth of shock he was feeling at how well they hit it off) and hobbled his way back inside at a quicker pace than his norm. Efficiency was a skill he possessed, as was haste without magic being involved. Kicking off his yard boots and shrugging off the outdoor jacket on the way to his room, he wondered on whether Cloud carried a spare helmet with him for such happenstance that strange neighbours agreed to tagging along with his wild journeys. Entering his bedroom, he yanked open the closest door and pulled out the thickest pair of jeans he owned and SeeD-issued combat boots. Nudging the door shut with a hip, he dumped them on his bed before beelining for his drawers. Retrieving underwear from the top drawer, he dug out a plain old shirt from the middle one â those were dumped on the bed too.Â
Briefly, he wondered about the state of his hair but shrugged it off â itâd be underneath a helmet, who cared? Wriggling off the pyjama pants (whoops at going commando to greet his neighbour for the first time), he dressed himself while keeping a flickering gaze on the bedside clock to watch the time. Three minutes and twenty-two seconds later, he was adequately dressed and ready to go. Theoretically. For a moment, he questioned where his mind had gone and what replaced it to make him so whimsical. Uncaring in the end, he shrugged off such thoughts at hearing the starting rumble of the alluring thing awaiting him (the bike was pretty neat too).Â
Finally, Squall moseyed on to the front door again, picking up his trusty leather jacket along the way. Too often heâd been teased (or ridiculed) about the fur adorning the lining, but fuck those guys, he liked being warm, thank you very much. Pulling said jacket on as he exited his condo, grabbing keys, wallet and his cell phone along the way, bitter warmth greeted him already but he paid it no heed at the sight he was blessed with â Cloud straddling the beast, a pair of goggles sitting atop of blond spikes, arms crossed and peering at him with⊠clear admiration and perhaps a hint of amusement.Â
Locking the front door with a snort, Squall then pointed the sharp enough key (to get his point across) at the blond, and said, âNot one word about the jacket, Strife.â A raised brow was his response. His own eyes narrowed. âI mean it.âÂ
Cloud raised his hands in a show of mock surrender and then lowered the goggles to shield his eyes. âNo words said.âÂ
Squall nodded in approval while making his way over, studying the sleek machine. Obviously, his choice seat was behind Cloud, although it seemed it would be a tight fit for two grown adults. So what. Steeling his determination, he gritted his teeth and, after bracing himself on Cloudâs shoulder, swung his right leg over the bike to attain his seat. Unfortunately, it applied unnecessary pressure to his bad leg and a bolt of pain lanced through him. He went rigid and a concerned look shot over the shoulder he just leaned on.Â
âIâm fine,â Squall growled out, a low warning poorly concealed within the words. Giving himself a minute to settle and for his head to stop pounding, he breathed in and out steadily, and then sighed. Only when he impulsively ran a hand through his own hair did he realise something critical: âWhereâs your helmet?âÂ
A gleam came into blue eyes and Squall felt slight trepidation in his choice. âNo helmet. Hold on tight.âÂ
The engine roared to life as Cloud twisted his right hand and Squall instinctively grabbed onto what was closest: Cloudâs jacket â procured from where, Squall didnât know, but could certainly appreciate. Not a second later, they were tearing up Squallâs driveway, dust clouds and debris kicking up behind them as wheels scrambled for purchase. Before long rubber kissed tarmac and Cloud released the clutch, twisted the throttle, leaned forward and really started to move. The bike shot off like a rocket and Squall could only hold on for dear life, vice-grip on Cloudâs sides being switch for the more secure looping around his waist, face buried into the back of Cloudâs jacket, heart racing as fast as the vehicle heâd willingly jumped on, idly wondering if heâd make it out alive.Â
Exhilarating was too tame a word to use in description for the feel of wind whipping his hair about. The sheer amount of fresh air hitting his throat when finally releasing the breath heâd been holding nearly made him choke (and he lived in the mountains already). Eyes watering immediately when he attempted to open them to view the rapidly passing countryside, he chose to keep them jammed shut, listening to the roar of the engine whenever Cloud accelerated and the pounding of his own heart that felt was about to leap out of his chest.Â
Now to say Squall had lived a lively, fast-paced life so far would be a gross understatement, but there was something so utterly terrifying, yet breathlessly freeing, about riding so recklessly with a gorgeous stranger heâd just met.Â
Liberating.Â
#Strifehart#WIP fic#ooc.#I really like the concept of this one and wanna finish it#but time???#what is this eheh
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