ladykf | Dec. 4th, 2018

Dec. 4th, 2018

This is along a similar premise to my "Two of a Kind" ficlet, where Revan meets Anakin. Again, using my headcanons for Revan. [Tumblr post here]

“Don’t do it.”

The voice stopped him cold, as sure as the young Jedi had been that no one was there. Paying better attention, however, Anakin was suddenly aware of a presence. Looking that way didn’t show him anyone, but he felt power. Power, even, because this was beyond even his own blossoming abilities. “Who’s there?”

There was a sudden brightness, before a shimmering blue figure was present. Small, dressed in flowing robes with a hood and a mask even beyond that. Something about it tickled his memory, but the figure removed it to regard him somberly. “While I wouldn’t say I’m the poster child for obeying the Jedi Order, going to the Dark Side isn’t going to help you. The Dark consumes, corrodes, and eventually destroys everything in its path. It is a ravenous power, and takes no care for your goals.”

She heard. How this being heard his conversation with the Chancellor, Anakin didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to be ordered around. “Why should I listen to you? The Chancellor is my friend, I don’t even know you.”

“Most people don’t, these days. The tales of Revan aren’t ones people would have passed on to younglings, particularly after the Reformation.” The woman - without the mask he could make it out - looked thoughtful, gazing at nothing he could see before looking back to him. “Who do you want to save so badly you’ll give up on everything you’ve been taught, and everyone else?”

Anakin paled, jaw tightening. “I don’t have to tell you-”

“Someone you love, clearly,” she interrupted, smile surprisingly gentle. “There was a man I knew once who said that what Jedi needed was to be taught to control their passions. Passion leads to the dark side. Love and passion aren’t the same thing at all. Love, he said, will save you. And he was so very right.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Anakin swallowed uselessly as he stared at her. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

“I imagine I’m here because like draws to like, and you’re a lot like me,” she sighed, putting her hood down and walking towards the window. “Coruscant has changed in so many ways, and stayed the same in so many more… it’s been over three thousand years since I walked this planet alive.”

“Force ghost.” It clicked immediately, part of the puzzle coming together. “My… energy… drew you?”

“Maybe. Or the Force trying to be a little more… self preserving, perhaps.” She shrugged, not seeming overly concerned. “It was a surprise, I admit. Of all the places to draw me, Coruscant was not what I expected. Neither were you, though. I can read some things, of course, but I’d rather just be straight. Name for a name?”

Was there any reason at all not to? “Anakin Skywalker.”

“Riayn,” she smiled warmly, if a little wry, “Revan might be better known, though if they call me knight or darth depends on the council’s view at the time. I was both, then neither.”

Anakin stared in shock. “You can’t be both.”

“I didn’t say at the same time,” she pointed out. “I was a knight, then a darth, then… well, it was complicated. Again, not a story they tell around the creche or to impressionable padawans, I’m sure. But as I said, I’m not the poster child for… anything Jedi. I could never be, not after everything… I’m not Sith, not Jedi. Gray, perhaps, like the Force itself. I’ve done both, and I won’t follow either.”

Anakin frowned, glancing at her. “You have a lightsaber.”

“Two, actually.” Revan shrugged, brushing her robe aside. “They’re mine, crafted by my own hand away from any temple or enclave, on a ship I stole from an Exchange crime boss on the way to save the galaxy. It’s a long story.”

Anakin found himself smiling a little bit. “I think I could use some stories. Perspective. You… you said you’ve been Jedi. And Sith. And… nothing?”

“I’ve never been nothing - I’ve always been me, whatever that was at the time. Even when people tried to make me something else.” There was an intensity in her words that promised a story that Anakin suddenly needed to hear.

“Tell me.”

Revan smiled, a little crooked but something understanding there. “They called it the Jedi Civil War…"

This was a prompt I got on Tumblr [original post here] that asked for Star Wars and dragons. My experiences in KOTOR immediately demanded it.

“That can’t be real,” Mission breathed, taking a step towards the enormous skeleton, half buried in sand and still far too large for her to picture ever being alive. “Nothing… Rancors aren’t even that big, stretched out. Nothing is that big, it’s a joke, right? You’re joking.”

“That,” Canderous interrupted her, “is the skeleton of a krayt dragon. Probably an adolescent.”

The Twi’lek stared at him in fascinated horror. “You’re kidding.”

“Given they can get up to a good forty-five meters and that’s probably only about twenty something, I have to agree with him.” Riayn gave her friend an assessing look. “You sure you don’t want to go back to the ship? HK could take you back.”

“Indignant statement: I am not a bodyguard, Master! Sincere request: I would very much like to come along for this battle. The fierceness and violence that will surely occur are things I wish to be a part of.” The droid cocked his rifle, optics flickering in a way they’d learned quickly expressed eagerness. Generally for just this sort of violence.

Riayn shook her head, waiting for Mission’s answer. “I don’t think anyone is going to come along and kill it, guys. We have time to take you back if that’s what you want.”

“I… uh…” she looked over the skeleton again, swallowing hard before squaring her shoulders. “No, no I can do this. Besides, we’re still looking for Griff. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Atta girl,” Canderous grinned. “We’ll make a proper fighter outta you yet.”

Given I write in both the Old Republic Era, and the Prequel timeline, it seemed important to be able to figure out when things laid in the timeline - especially when I was rping Revan. This is leftover from that blog; I did the math, so here it is for anyone to use. [Tumblr post here]

In the Old Republic timeline, the Treaty of Coruscant was so significant that it became year “0” and time was then calculated as events before the treaty (BTC) and after (ATC) - this was not, however, the last time that such a recalculation was made.

The Battle of Yavin during the Rebellion Era was another reset, becoming “year 0” with before (BBY) and after (ABY) which are the more common timeline measurements for general Star Wars things that focus on the movies and novels around or after that time.

Simply put, the Treaty of Coruscant is 3653 BBY. Therefore, the Battle of Yavin is 3653 ATC. So the initial math, where “X” is the years before or after the Treaty of Coruscant, looks like this:

If “X” is BTC, then X + 3653 = BBY
If “X” is ATC, then 3653 - X = BBY

Of course, if you want to do it in reverse and figure out how to turn the dates based on the Battle of Yavin into the Old Republic Era, it’s just a bit more complicated.

If “X” is BBY, then 3653 - X
- If your answer is a positive, you are in ATC. If your answer is a negative, you are BTC.
If “X” is ABY, then 3653 + X

For examples we will take the following two events:

303 BTC - The Jedi Civil War (KotOR)
- To turn 303 BTC into ___ BBY, use the “X + 3653 =” equation; if X = 303, 303 + 3653 = 3656
- 303 BTC = 3656 BBY
32 BBY - The Blockade of Naboo (The Phantom Menace)
- To turn 32 BBY into ___ ATC, use the “3653 - X” equation; if X = 32, 3653 - 32 = 3621. Because 3621 is positive, you are after the Treaty
- 32 BBY = 3621 ATC

And that is how you convert dates between the Old Republic and Rebellion Eras.

This is AU to the canon timelines of what went down with my main rp verses for the Carmine Legacy, but it was an interesting premise to look at, what it would take to push Seran that far. [Tumblr post]

It had been a year.

One long, painful year since his brother had called him with the news. Mako had hacked the feeds, and part of him died watching.

Thanaton….

He’d killed them. Saare for having been Zash’s apprentice. Blakk for trying to save her. He’d killed them and it hadn’t been quick or painless. They’d died in pain and fear. There weren’t even bodies to bury, just a grave he’d dug with his hands in the dirt on Iridonia, outside his parent’s place where he’d always wanted to take them. Show them what it was like to have a family.

He’d never get the chance now.

A gloved hand tightened around his comm, gold eyes hard as he grit his teeth.

It had been a year, and in that year he’d dropped off the bounty hunting scene to prepare for the biggest hit of his life - and likely his last; taking down a member of the Dark Council would be risky even for a Sith, and here he was, some alien hunter. Yeah, he was gonna die for this. But when he took Thanaton down, he’d have no regrets.

And Thanaton would die. He’d spent a year making sure of that. A year planning and planning and calling in every favor and resource he had to make sure he got this right. In the end, Thanaton had played into his hands, sick of chasing around the last of Saare’s ‘followers’ even though Seran would have been the first to point out that they were no threat. But if the Sith wanted to hire him… he was fine with that.

He saw the disdain plain as day on the Sith’s features when he came in, but the man was polite anyway. Might’ve been bearable, even, if he didn’t have such a burning desire to see him die. And maybe if he wasn’t wearing a casual green tunic and a long black coat that had once been likened to a bath robe he’d be taken a little more seriously.

Not that he cared.

Seran listened to the specifics of it all, of the bounty details and Thanaton’s suggested methods - not bad, and actually rather smart if he’d really been dealing with some slouch of a hunter.

Only he wasn’t.

Hands deep in his pockets, Seran pressed the button on his comm, silently sending out a message while he talked the ‘plan’ through with the Darth, tossing back and forth ideas, seeking information… and then there was that priceless moment where he saw the old man stiffen, orange eyes widening in dismay. Seran didn’t feel a thing, but Saare had always said he had the Force sensitivity of a brick. “Disturbance in the Force, old man?”

“Quiet, hunter,” the Sith commanded, looking around warily as if he could see what was causing said disturbance.

“Scarier people than you have been more convincing than that,” he noted mildly, pushing off the wall to walk around the room. “You got a problem I should know about?”

“Nothing you would understand -”

“Force abandoned ya?” He smiled with dark satisfaction at the sharp look, the sudden suspicion. “Bet that’s a weight like a hundred ysalamiri on your doorstep.”

Darth Thanaton narrowed his eyes at him. “What foolishness have you wrought, hunter? You can’t think there is any scenario where you can raise a hand against me and win.”

“All I have t’ do to win is make sure you lose, Thanaton.” He didn’t reach for his blaster, pressing the button on his comm again and watching the Sith calmly. “You’re already dead; you just haven’t dropped yet.”

“Don’t be foolish, you can’t possibly -”

“There’s a good handful of Jedi waiting for whatever’s left of you when I’m done,” he cut him off, voice calm and quiet. “I didn’t want t’ let 'em down by saying there won’t be much. You’re a big shot, I know - I did my research. But you’re also human, and you’re not going to live through what a dozen thermal detonators are going to do to this building. You’re sure as hell not going to live through the bunker buster that’ll be dropped on the rubble, but just in case I have someone who is going to put everything on lockdown in the next ten seconds.”

He arched a brow, hearing the locks to the very room engage and chuckling at the look of dawning understanding, the Sith realizing he was serious. “She’s good. I’ve got some real good people working on this, actually. Real good. An’ a Hutt or two in my debt that really won’t give a damn you’re gone - pity you didn’t stay in the capital, huh? Would’ve made it harder on me.”

“So, what? You’ll throw your life away to kill me?” Thanaton gave him a disgusted look. “Who paid you to do this? This is suicide, even if you win.”

“Paid me? Thanaton, I’m paying you back.” A final press of keys on his comm, sending out a last message to his friends and family. Gods, but he hated to leave Mako alone like this, but she was an adult now. And she understood. Lathi… Lathi would get it. And he had a feeling neither he nor the rest of Intelligence would look too hard into this.

He shook his head, smiling grimly. “A Jedi told me once 'there’s no death, there’s the Force’ - and I hope they’re right. Whatever comes next, I hope Saare’s waiting there to kick your ass.”

The Darth gave him an incredulous look. “You’re killing me over those children?”

“Their names were Saare and Blakk, and you should have left them alone.” Seran-vin snarled softly, shifting his stance to stay upright as the first explosion rocked the building. “They were worth a thousand of your Councils, and your death can never make up for their loss; but I’m not letting you live after that.”

Another explosion stumbled them both, and from the way the Sith stretched a hand, then fumbled for his lightsaber, the fuzzy little lizards were still interfering with his ability to use the Force. No lightning today.

Not that he expected the 'fight’ to last long, but Seran took grim satisfaction in shooting the flustered darth in the shoulder before he had his blade out and readied. Time was ticking away, and there were more explosions drawing nearer - the whole compound was going to come down, there was no stopping it now.

“Time t’ meet the Maker.”

PROMPT: super-serious characters hitting the “everything’s funny” point of tiredness and giggling at everything [Tumblr post]

“Cipher?”

Cipher Seven made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, helmed face resting in his hands. He really didn’t see any reason to bother with words just yet, and he had to finish this blasted report….

“Cipher, it’s nearly morning, and I’ve been informed you’ve been here since last night,” his Watcher came into the room, visible just in the edge of his line of sight. He thought that there was a fairly good chance that was in an effort to make sure he knew where she was, but he was well aware of that - hyper aware of that, actually.

“Too much caffa.”

“And not enough sleep. I’m sure if you had your helmet off, there would be circles under your eyes.”

“But it’s on, so they’re not there. And if I keep it on, they can’t come, so obviously the helmet stays on.” He reasoned patiently, snickering to himself. “Self defense, you realize. That’s what it’s all about.”

There was a moment of silence, then some uncharacteristically tentative steps. “I think you really should go get some sleep, Seven.”

“Too much caffa.” He repeated. “And I don’t like circles under my eyes - can’t take the helmet off. Very discouraging, you know. Clashes with the tattoos, too. Horribly. Bad for morale. And bad morale does not get paperwork done.”

“I think just this once the paperwork can wait,” she insisted, coming closer.

“No no, it spawns more if you leave it alone.” He shook his head. “Can’t have that.”

“That’s gizka, agent.”

“Luckily not a report on gizka, then - I’d be damned.” He snickered at the thought, and for some reason it was really amusing. Some small part of him whispered that maybe, just maybe, Watcher Four had a valid point.

“Cipher Seven, a senior agent sitting at his desk at 0400 hours, when I’d last seen him in the same spot over nine hours ago after he came in from an extraordinarily taxing mission, giggling about the idea of writing up a report on gizka is very bad for morale.” She informed him. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. You’re compromising your performance, and I’d hate to have to report that.”

The operative’s laughter trailed off into snickers and finally a sigh. “Perhaps you’re right, Watcher Four. I believe I’ll be retiring to my suite for some rest. Do take care.”

“You as well, Cipher.”

This is a quote from the Imperial Agent, in SWTOR, which fit how I played mine to a T. Check out the Tumblr post here for the audio.

Out of all the vocations the young Zabrak could have once imagined himself pursuing, Lathi had honestly never once considered taking a position as any sort of Imperial. The thought of being drafted into Intelligence was laughable - oh certainly, he was extremely intelligent and skilled. He was also very obviously not human. And in the Empire, unless you were a pureblooded Sith, being an alien wasn’t considered a career advantage. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But then he had met Cipher Seven, their paths crossing while the agent was in the midst of an infiltration on Nar Shadaa. Being ‘drafted’ into his services was unexpected, taking increasingly more time away from Lathi’s own business procuring materials for his mother’s weapon making, but even had he been inclined to resist there was compensation offered that would allow him to bring some extra cortosis back for her as well - hardly a chance to pass up.

Despite some initial struggles to find a rhythm, the pair ended up working well together. Between Lathi’s skills with machines and general technology, he was able to pick up the needed skills with a little direction from the Imperial, and a carefully practiced Imperial accent to cover his own combined with a quickly purchased helmet allowed for him to slip around officers who they didn’t have time to argue with. After a while, respect turned to admiration and something of a friendly relationship with the cipher agent and they parted on good terms.

Their second - and last - meeting was nearly a month later. There had been betrayal within the ranks, and without time to figure out who was behind it, the dying agent made a desperate gamble on a young, clever alien who had been the only one whose loyalty he didn’t doubt.

Loyalty had been bred into Lathi by his parents growing up, and those he deemed worthy of it were elevated nearly to clan. Beyond that, he saw the value of the mission; while aliens were looked down upon in the Empire, the Zabrak saw the government as something he could get behind.

He finished the mission, and reported politely to a bewildered Keeper in the murdered agent’s honor. Looking back, he supposed it was little surprise Keeper kept him, racial biases of their government be damned. Lathi was intelligent, efficient, and loyal. Keeper too earned such over the years, even though they didn’t always see eye-to-eye. While it was not a replacement, the Zabrak would consider Intelligence a secondary clan that he held as a priority. The Empire grew to be dear to him, something he wanted to see succeed. He did all he could to support this, and began to be less and less pleased with those who worked against it - particularly the ones who should have been doing their utmost to preserve and advance their government.

Namely, Sith.

Imperial Intelligence was clan, and the Empire a second home to be cherished and protected. The self-important Force users and their petty, destructive politics however… they wore on him over time. He toed the line as a good agent - he’d taken on the mantle of Cipher Seven, himself, largely to honor the man who had unwittingly brought him into the fold - but he would be the last to regret if the dark overlords of the Empire were to all vanish.

In fact, off the record, he’d be quite happy to help.

I wasn't expecting this particular quote to canonically come up for the Sith Inquisitor, but it's perfect for Saare, and demanded a little blurb. Tumblr post has the audio.

She was barely nine standard years when they came. Only one was a lord, leading an apprentice and some acolytes - all of them dead now, she’d made sure of that - invading Coruscant, eight years before the Sacking. Perhaps doing a bit of reconnaissance, she’d never cared to ask; by the time she was in a position anyone might have answered, she no longer thought it important.

By then, they had made her their own. Sith. She had come from Jedi, been raised Jedi, but she was strong in the Force and in the Empire you became Sith or were killed before you could become a threat. Little Saare chose early on that she would live, and Saare-ha was all the more adamant about her survival. They had enslaved her, openly at first and then under the subtler mantle of apprentice - still, she had a master. She lived at the whim of another. A new title, but still a slave.

With Zash’s death, she was a lord by rights. Lord Saare-ha. It had the ring of irony to it, but more importantly it was a little more freedom. Particularly if she could get Thanaton to leave her be.

Thanaton would have been her new master, she supposed. Amongst Sith, all were slaves to one higher. All had a leash held tight by the order, by expectations and woe to you if you stepped out of line. They had made her Sith, yes. As much as she loathed it, it was even clear in her appearance. Part of her belonged to them, in ways that were hard to explain even to herself.

She hated it, and she would never forgive them for it.

Saare-ha was tied in contradictions - she was and was not Sith. She had been but could never again be Jedi. She was the direct descendent of a long line of accomplished Jedi Masters and the lone recognized heir of an ancient Sith lord who had been a peer of the likes of Tulak Hord. So much history weighed on slim shoulders, threatened her with the ominous whispers of destiny and fate, and all she could see was another chain. Another master to enslave her.

No more.

They had tried. Her whole life, someone had always tried to define her, to tell her what she should and should not do. For the Jedi. For the Republic. For the Sith. For the Empire.

No more, I’ve had enough.

The light beckoned gently, even as the dark called seductively. She reached for them both; I am neither Jedi, nor am I Sith. I will not restrain myself to their limits.

She walked freely between the living and the dead, and would call the whole of the Force to bear. Lord Saare-ha may have been claimed by the Sith, but they would not be her masters. She would be master of her own fate, and any loyalties she gave would be gifts given freely of her own will to those worthy.

An irreverent spirit, unexpectedly wise and fiercely protective taught her how to stand on her own. A cunning youth with a sharp tongue and gentle hands taught her the worth of standing for others. A stubborn mirror of her broken past taught her that others would stand by her whether she liked it or not.

These precious few she gathered close, ties she wove of her own will, anchors in the chaotic storm of her power, reassurance against the trials she faced. For now, she was Sith, yes. But not only Sith. And she was her only master.

This post was a part of a chain between myself and

askshivanulegacy that I wanted to keep, but I'll note which section was by who; I am Carmine, they're Shi'vanu. [Original post]

~ CARMINE:

Looking at her, sometimes Seran remembered the little initiate he’d met, scared but defiant. Refusing to be owned by the Sith, fighting back the one way she could.

He wondered, sometimes, if she remembered them talking back then. What he’d told her, what she’d vowed. She’d stuck to it, though, whether she remembered it or not. They didn’t break her. She was a little twisted, all those years under the Sith had to take a toll, and then being forced into their ranks…. Yeah, it took a toll. But it didn’t break her.

Saare was still there, still that defiant little thing, even if she was now a defiant little thing who could electrocute you with a flick of her wrist. Seemed in her own way, she managed to get her last laugh after all.

~ SHI'VANU:

Sometimes Blakk watched her, when he thought she wasn’t looking, and remembered her mention of having been kidnapped. He wondered if it was true, what the point of it was if it wasn’t. He wondered what it was like, what had happened when she’d been taken all those years ago … what it must have been like for her to be a Jedi … what she must have looked like in the nondescript brown robes the Order wore.

He found he couldn’t picture it. To him, Saare would always have those yellow eyes, that white hair, pale skin and striking dark purple highlights. She’d always be dressed in some kind of Sith robe to make a statement - whether night black and bloody crimson or something vibrant, something that said that she was a Sith, she was there, and you’d better know it, she was not fading into the crowd. He wondered if her choices were the result of rebelling against the anonymous, trampled dirt-life of a slave.

No, if there was a young girl child in her past, running around carefree in plain, simple robes, with plain hair, plain eyes, and a twin brother of the same face to match … he couldn’t see it. There was no childish, happy laughter from Saare-ha.

She would always be Sith to him.

~ CARMINE:

He calls me Saare.

It’s short for him, convenient - easier than the full three syllables of Saare-ha I’m sure. It’s nothing significant, not to him. He doesn’t know - couldn’t know - what it means to me. I’ve told him I was enslaved, yes, but he never knew me that way. To him, there is no difference to be defined. I am Sith.

I never wanted to be Sith. I did, once upon a time when my eyes were blue and my hair a reddish brown, long to be Jedi. It was a long tradition in our family, for several members many generations back in the House of Carmine. The crimson green…. legends, in their own ways. But that was not to be.

I was a slave, and then I was Sith - another kind of slavery, more subtle, more insidious.

In the Empire, there always has to be a label. You have to fall into a category, so they can rank you and run you through their rules. If you don't fit, you make them uneasy, and they’ll try to make you into something.

He does that without meaning to.

Oh, he tries to get a rise from me. Calls me Sith with such venom, slave with disdain. Those mean nothing. I refuse to be owned by the labels of Imperial Society. I do not belong to the Sith and I am not a slave.

But then he calls me Saare, unthinkingly, and it means nothing to him. It’s just a name.

But it’s MY name.

He calls me by my name, looking me in the eyes, and part of me that was dead comes alive. He says it without thought, without hesitation - it’s a simple truth, nothing of consequence to him.

But it's my NAME.

He may never know what it means to me, for there to be someone who looks and just sees Saare, whatever that means at the time. But I will never forget.

He calls me Saare.

( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

The original prompt was "DATING TIP: Hold the door for your date. Rip the door off its hinges. Use the door as a weapon to fight off other men. Establish dominance." but I completely misread it as beating people with the ripped-off door to establish dominance. (Well, maybe that wasn't completely wrong? It's vague...) [Original post here]

Angeal could only watch people come onto the gorgeous redhead with him so long per night, and somehow Junon was even worse than Costa del Sol had been. Maybe they were military - which didn’t bode well for the rest of their trip to Midgar - or maybe they were just entitled punks who thought they had some automatic right to paw at the little spitfire. Whatever they were thinking, it needed dealt with, and he was done.

The door came off the hinges with a shriek and the Banoran let the momentum carry it off to bowl the presumptuous dick over. “If I see you try that one more time I swear to the gods more than the door will be unhinged, got it? Now get your sorry ass up and out of our faces.”

The soft, almost musical laughter made him blush a little, glancing back over his shoulder as his companion flagged the barkeep. “You know, darling, I could have handled that.”

Angeal huffed, moving back to sit beside him and bumping shoulders lightly. “You shouldn’t have had to. There is no honor in-”

“Yes dear.” Genesis chuckled, kissing his cheek and smoothing back a stray bang. “I know. Luckily, my hero is ever on guard, hmm?”

writeworld prompt from over on Tumblr that suited my bounty hunter and his Imp agent brother well. [Tumblr post]

Seran paused, blinking at the still form sprawled not too far from the entryway to his ship. Gold eyes blinked once, then again as he peered over to his workbench where his brother was contentedly tinkering away. “Lathi?”

“Hmm?” He recognized that hum, the ‘I’m busy right now, is it really that important?’ sound, but right now he rather thought it was.

“Lathi, there’s a dead body on my floor.”

“Hn, oh. That.” His brother glanced back over his shoulder. “I thought I’d moved it far enough, can you not get your cargo in?”

The bounty hunter blinked slowly at him. “Lathi. Dead body. In the ship. On the floor.”

Amber eyes blinked back at him. “I was a little busy to haul it out, and you don’t have an incinerator - which is ridiculous, in my opinion. You generally have clothing that belongs there.”

Okay. Apparently there was a story his brother wasn’t too quick to share. “Lathi, why is he dead?”

“I put an electrodart through his eye.”

Seran couldn’t quite hold back a cringe. That explained the faint smell, and the lack of mess. “Riiiight. And… why?”

Lathi’s expression darkened slightly. “Difference of opinion on how to handle contractual obligations.”

Contract. The man came for him, then. And big brother apparently didn’t like it, or at least his plans on what to do about it.

Seran chuckled softly, crossing his arms. “Well. Far be it from me to question your methods. But why’s he here?”

“Ah. I thought you might want to look and see if there’s a bounty on him you might find convenient.” A look of understanding passed between them, a little smirk of satisfaction on the elder Zabrak’s face. “Do as you will. I have a project to finish.”

“Course you do.” Smirking back, Seran-vin stepped around to put up his things. An unexpected catch was always a nice surprise, after all, and yeah, maybe his brother showed his affection a little differently than most people but… his family was always a little different.

Besides, he would have done the same thing.

This came about while I was writing To Be Human, as I really started to dig into the canon characters and try to separate what canon actually said about them vs common fanon, and to decide what I wanted to work with. Obviously, there's plenty of fanon about Hojo but the vast majority of it paints him as a very two dimensional villain. (Note, that

risingoflights definitely heavily influenced me, too, in the short amount of time where we roleplayed together and me just reading their work involving Hojo.)

So, I started looking into writing him more... 3D ... and this was my first assessment to try and put my findings into words. [Tumblr post here]

Hojo is the FF7-fandom boogeyman, origin-of-all-evil, and default hated character. He’s very often written off as a raving madman who just tries to cause pain and really has no idea what he’s doing at all. Pure evil - evil for evil - is another way he’s written off.

I’d argue against that on all fronts. While I’m sure there are plenty of two-dimensional characters, and while he certainly has room to be interpreted in such a narrow view, the fact is that I really believe Hojo is much deeper and much worse a person for it.

( Read more... )

[Original Tumblr post] The screen shots that went with this are easier to see on the Tumblr post, if you have trouble seeing the detail here.

vorpalgirl asked about my thoughts on what Zack was up to during ACC so all feels-related complaints can be directed to her. Now, let’s get started.

First, take a look at the pictures.

Done? Great. Let’s discuss ACC, and the way people kinda ignore the whole “dead stay dead” idea. Sephiroth is the most obvious example, but Aerith and Zack are clearly more than figments of Cloud’s imagination - they both actively take part in events.

With the healing rain/holy water, it’s pretty obvious how Aerith takes a physical effect on things. She also takes Cloud’s hand during the fight with Bahamut Zero, joining in with everyone else in giving a literal and figurative boost to his strength. Notably, though, Zack isn’t there. Zack doesn’t show up at all, in fact, until Cloud has taken quite a beating from Sephiroth.

So seriously, where was Zack?

It’s at this point that we need to remember that, while Zack was never as close to Sephiroth as Angeal and Genesis once were, they were friends. And Zack Fair does not give up on people, you have to literally take the decision out of his hands. ~~Looking at you Angeal.~~

Obviously, Sephiroth has been around as a spirit entity - which is also the position Zack and Aerith have been in. Sephiroth, who is just a shadow of himself made of malice and anger, twisted from the man Zack once knew. But that doesn’t mean Zack wants to write him off.

I absolutely believe that in ACC, Zack spent his time trying to talk Sephiroth down. That may even be what compromised Kadaj’s ability to sense that Rufus had Jenova’s remains in a box under a blanket all that time. Cloud, he knew, had plenty of support. But Sephiroth? Sephiroth was the Nightmare, son of the Calamity, Jenova’s favorite son, and he had no one but Zack left.

Sephiroth toys with Cloud. Is it malice or distraction? Likely both. Sephiroth has years of experience over Cloud - many of which were on the warfront, but also fighting the likes of Genesis and Angeal - in addition to formal training in combat and strategy. There is no reason Cloud should win if Sephiroth had his mind together. Blame Jenova, blame his breakdown, blame the fact that he has no frame of reference of how to handle all that emotion - here, even, blame Zack.

For most of the fight, Zack isn’t there. Then, when Sephiroth is going for the kill, Zack pulls Cloud into the realm of “other” that Aerith had done before. And with tears in his eyes where Cloud can’t see them, he asks if he needs help to take him down.

If you’ve forgotten, go take a look at the screencaps above to see the sword Zack has.

Yes, it’s the Buster Sword. But this isn’t something he conjured from his mind, in the condition he last held it. This isn’t even something one would picture Cloud imagining - not that he’s facing Zack to see him, anyway. This is the same sword that Cloud left on the cliff. The same sword that is mysteriously polished and placed in Aerith’s church at the end of the movie.

Zack, as much as the thought pained him, was ready to fight Sephiroth one more time. He was ready to step out of his place in the Lifestream, having gone to get the blade his mentor had given him, that he had given Cloud, and take up the fight.

Like the last fight of his life, there are tears in his eyes because for all his efforts, Zack wasn’t able to save Sephiroth. Cloud may never know the kindness he did his friend to spare him the pain of having to help put him down again, but at the end of the pep talk Zack gives him, there’s a smile on his face.

Relief.

This doesn’t have to be his fight, and Cloud is strong enough to make it on his own. Zack has lost one more friend for good, it’s a bittersweet victory. But he does meet him one last time in the church. He doesn’t say anything, his wave is slow, a little uncoordinated - I imagine it was one hell of an effort to get the strength to be ready to do what he did, Zack doesn’t have the heritage to give him any advantage there, it’s pure will driving him then. But that’s not really a new thing for Zack.

… so yeah, THAT is what I headcanon as happening regarding Zack during ACC.

There was a whole long post about this, but I'm just copying over my observations regarding the "Living Legacy" scene at the end of Crisis Core, where Zack hands over the Buster Sword before he dies. If you want to read the full thing, go to the Original Post Here.

This is not the first time that the Buster has been passed on, especially in this fashion. When Angeal dies - at Zack’s hand, and let’s not get into that mess beyond the painful parallel of how Cloud also feels he’s responsible for Zack’s death even though he had even less choice than Zack did - he passes on the Buster to Zack.

Now, in the English dub (which was the version I played through) Angeal says “Zack, you have my thanks. This is for you. *hands over the sword* Protect your honor, always.” And then Zack has an audio memory of Angeal’s comment at the beginning of the game - Embrace your dreams. If you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams and honor.

Now, let’s compare the English sub (which I’ve watched and found very interesting because it carries a different vibe most of the time):

“You did well Zack. I’m counting on you for the rest. *hands over sword* Never forget your pride.” This is then followed by the same audio memory, but again, with a slightly different vibe - Hold onto your dreams. If you want to be a hero you have to hold onto your dreams and also your pride.

I’m not going to pretend I understand the full significance of the changes between pride/dreams to fit the better cultural perception of the words, but I know enough to say that I do think that moment absolutely influenced how Zack handled that moment with Cloud. Another scene I would say had an effect was the time in Nibelheim (before everything goes wrong) when Zack thanks Cloud for reminding him what the Buster Sword means to him.

I think Zack took the burden of Angeal’s words very seriously (and I say “burden” absolutely referencing when Angeal says that honor can be quite the burden early on plus Gillian’s words on the sword representing the honor of the family.) And I think, as much as he loved Angeal (take that at whatever angle you like, but he did love him in some way,) he probably resented that. I think that was absolutely one of the things he meant when he asked “why is everyone always pushing things on me?” before the last fight with Genesis.

In light of that feeling, I think the last thing Zack intended was to give Cloud the same burden. Looking at Crisis Core only, I would say that I think it was definitely part of what vorpalgirl said: you’re gonna live/you’ll be my living legacy (alternatively, the proof that I existed) is a statement of fact, of the significance of the fact that Cloud is going to live on even though Zack died, that Zack managed to save at least one person he cares about when the others died well before this and even forced him to have a hand in it.

But it’s also motivation for Cloud, because he’s been with Cloud this whole time. He knows that Cloud is struggling (he hasn’t even been conscious until right before Zack left to make his last stand), he knows that Cloud struggled with his self-esteem anyway before all this, and he probably knows that a standard thing that keeps people out of SOLDIER is if they don’t have the willpower/sense of self to make it through the process. That’s a really big thing to ask of a teenager, I remember that much of those years personally. A teenager is still figuring out who the hell they are in that weird not a kid/not an adult half state, this is a big deal and it’s no shock that Cloud “fell short” there - most people probably did.

But Zack is giving Cloud something here, he’s giving him something to focus on because he won’t be able to talk to Cloud all the time or carry him on anymore. All he has left to give are his sword to protect himself, his words to remember and his life so Cloud has a chance at all, and the last one is running out fast.

He never wanted to pass on the burden that Angeal did. He never wanted to push things on Cloud the way they were always pushed on him. But he knew Cloud needed an anchor still, and he couldn’t physically be there to hold his hand anymore, he could barely lift his own blade.

I don’t think he ever imagined it would have ended up that way, that Cloud could even do that, but he did succeed in one thing at least - he gave Cloud a way to hide behind him, until he was ready to stand on his own. And in Advent Children, even though there’s tears in his eyes to have to choose between Sephiroth and Cloud (and he’s lost Sephiroth, don’t get me started on my theories about what Zack was up to in AC) he manages a smile in his voice as he offers Cloud that same bit of strength, that quiet vote of confidence when he’s nearly destroyed again, and helps him back up before he goes.

(The Zack during ACC thing is HERE)

Leftover from my Genesis roleplay blog, post here.

Genesis has a reputation for being a bully to the lower classes and there are many boogieman style stories that regularly circulate implying that he’ll set people on fire for the smallest infractions - or, at times, for no reason but his own whims.

This is partially justified, because Genesis is quick tempered and has an extremely low tolerance for idiocy, incompetence, and willful ignorance. The times he’s in charge of training, he’s been called out on being extremely hard on people physically and emotionally. If asked about it, he generally replies with flippant snark.

The truth of the matter is, however, that he’s extremely frustrated with how many more people were advanced to higher ranks just to fill slots for the war. His reasoning, though he rarely bothers to explain it, is that if they can’t handle him being hard on them, they aren’t going to survive the front lines. And is he hard on them? Oh yes. He is very hard on them, but he is blazing fire that, if you survive his tempering, will harden you into a weapon that will last.

Genesis Rhapsodos does not give a damn if you like him, but you will respect him. And if it takes people fearing him and thinking he’s a terrible person to save their lives, he’s willing to make that sacrifice. Let them go to Angeal for coddling and comfort; when they’re in the thick of battle, it’ll be the reflexes honed from dodging his “random” attacks and being hyper alert to the feel of magic being cast that gets them moving before they can be killed. It will be the ingrained response to push beyond what they think they could possibly do, for fear of pain - possibly death, because the enemy does not “fight fair” - that will keep them moving until they reach safety. It will be having learned to think clearly and act with confidence and without hesitation even when they’re terrified that will carry them through the war. Whether they realize it or not is unimportant; they will live, and that is all that matters.

Of course, despite how hard the Commander is on those under his command, goddess help the ones he catches bullying others. Well before he grew into his power, Genesis was “too small” and “too pretty” and he has never forgotten.

And no one harasses his men but him.

Another from the Genesis rp blog, post here.

Being the first of the experimental pre-SOLDIER trio, Genesis is the oldest. And as arguably the prototype even for the other two, he has the most weaknesses. Some of these show up well before the degradation is fully kicked off, including less physical strength compared to his two friends and a leaner build.

Given that the degradation he eventually suffers is built into his very genetic makeup, it reflects into his health well before ever showing up as an adult. Mako injections leave him nauseous and increasingly feverish the higher in rank he rises, almost like mild flu symptoms, and the ones as a First can send him shaking with chills for the first few hours after. He does his best to hide this, making excuses to be alone for the worst of those times.

He’s also capable of getting sick, even with more relatively “mundane” things like a cold or flu due to their ability to mutate, which frustrates him immensely. Despite his reputation for melodrama, he’d much rather suffer in silence and prefers no attention be brought to him in a compromised condition.

Best chances are, if Genesis has gone quiet there may be something wrong on some level. There tend to be small signs to guess what’s wrong, but nothing is foolproof. Drinking anything but coffee or water on the job is a pretty telling sign unless someone brought it to him. Small wrinkles on his face may reveal sources of pain or other discomfort. But all in all, if Genesis deems it a sign of “weakness” he’s going to do his best to cover it up, and woe even to his nearest and dearest if they bring it up in public.

This was a little snippet I did for the Empire AU, with some spoilers for CH2 of the Bounty Hunter and Jedi Knight storyline. I figure at this point, most people are aware of what went down so I'm not cutting it. [Original post]

“Not that I’ve ever minded being kept off the radar of your scarier kids, because trust me, I have never minded that, but have you ever considered backup?” Gault held up his hands immediately at Seran’s glare, offering his classic no-harm-meant grin. “Seriously, though. Taking on the whole Republic is probably not your greatest idea ever.”

“They brought the fight to my door, Gault.” Seran flinched a little from the size of the kolto injection Mako had prepped, though he didn’t move his arm. Exhaling with it, he let his eyes wander over to the workbench where Torian was prodding his armor. “Well?”

“Gonna need a defter touch than mine, sorry.” The Mandalorian shrugged. “The blaster scores I could manage, but those heavier weapons did damage I don’t want to work on. You’re lucky the two of you didn’t get hit worse, honestly.”

“I know that.” The holoterminal flickered to life above them, casting a blue light over the rail, and Seran sighed. “Tiny, who’s calling?”

T9-E’s servos whirred softly overhead as the droid went to check, making surprised sounds after. “Unknown signal = inside Imperial space // Identification provided = Ji’al Carmine.”

“Carmine?” Torian’s brows knit together in a frown. “Isn’t that the name of the Sith Lord’s clan?”

“Oh no.” Gault groaned, shaking his head and pointing when Seran made himself get up. “No no no, talking to a Jedi is a bad idea. Did you forget the part where we just walked into a massacre their battlemaster set up? This is a very bad idea. Seran, are you listening to me? Seran-vin – for the love of… somebody do something!”

“Ji’al has only called a couple times, and never from Imperial space,” Mako pointed out. “It’s probably important. He’s not a regular Jedi, anyway.”

“Corellians always seem a little different,” Torian said, following Seran up and leaning against the wall to watch. “You gonna answer?”

“Yeah… patch him through, T9.” Seran grabbed a shirt, shrugging it on with gritted teeth to hide the worst of his injuries.

Then the holo image sprung to life and the hunter forgot about the burns and scrapes, feeling his mouth go dry as he stared at the young man - Jedi knight, last he’d checked but… those clothes… that style was distinctly Sith. And in the background there was more than the girl he travelled with. The looming, powerful figure was instantly recognizable as a pureblood Sith, and that was definitely a lightsaber at his waist.

“The hell did you get yourself into, kid?”

There had been a haunted, guarded look in the knight’s eyes at first, but his smile was genuine even if there was bone deep exhaustion too. “That’s a long story. Listen, I’m sure you have Mako tracing this call… I have to ask a favor. I absolutely have to get out of this system, I need back to the Core. Untracked.”

Seran nodded, already piecing it together. “Get me the coordinates for a rendezvous. You gonna need to ditch your ship?”

“Ditch it, and wreck it so anyone who can find it will assume we were killed fleeing,” he confirmed.

“We have the gun power for that?” Seran asked, glancing back at the others.

“Blizz boost boss’ guns, make big boom on Jedi ship!” Blizz assured him eagerly.

“Alright. We can do that, then.” Seran frowned, looking back to the Jedi and his silent companions. “Who’re you running from?”

Ji’al offered a tight smile. “The Emperor."

A little headcanon ficlet piece for the Carmine/Shi'vanu legacies. [Tumblr post here]

Sith or Jedi, the Force was Saare’s ally. But it was always good to have something else on hand, usually her lightsaber. When she had been taken from the Jedi, there had been years without a proper weapon allowed in her possession.

That didn’t mean she went unarmed, however, not on Korriban and certainly not amongst the Sith. She had her wits, and her patience, and an endless supply of red rock. It didn’t take long to learn to make crude knives. By the time she was an acolyte, she’d made an art of it.

With proper supplies at her disposal as an apprentice and careful attention when she had opportunity to learn, Saare made a set of blades for herself - just in case, but fell out of the habit as she didn’t need to make more. Especially when she began traveling with Blakk, who was more than capable of getting in close for that sort of combat while she handled things from afar.

But after Balmorra…

Gods, she still hated to think of that time, of how badly he’d been hurt. It didn’t feel like enough to be his healer, she hadn’t been there to help defend him, had nearly been too late.

But Blakk was all too eager to avoid any discussion that might touch on the complex emotions seething between the three of them when he recovered, Seran had to leave, and Saare didn’t know what to say anyway. Seran had made sure Blakk had clothes and another rifle but… amidst the supplies, Saare found herself placing a single blade of polished red stone, wickedly sharp.

Just in case.

This was a little piece reflecting on something I want to write eventually detailing my Bounty Hunter's backstory. [Post here]

“What did you do before all this?”

Seran opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get out of his doze before looking over to find Mako. He was still getting used to having her always there, a strange concept but not entirely unwelcome. “Before what all?”

“Before Braden dragged you into the Great Hunt,” she said, making a vaguely encompassing gesture. “You’re not exactly a kid, you had to have done things before. And I don’t think for one minute all that gear was a gift from your parents.”

“The blades are Ma’s work, but I do take credit for the blasters,” he admitted, sitting up properly. Conversation was better than trying to sleep the whole flight to the Imperial capital anyway. “I did some work for her, mostly helpin’ my brother - Lathi has a mind for numbers, woulda made a damn fine merchant. He’d get her materials, sell goods an’ all. But I’ve been callin’ Tatooine home for… stars, maybe a good five years now? I’ve done a lot of work as an armed guard for people goin’ through the outer rim, got a lot of travel in with that.”

“That’s how you could pay to get them shipped off, isn’t it?” Mako bit her lip, clearly not having meant to blurt that out, but went through with it when he didn’t say anything. “It had to have cost a lot of credits, just to ship Jory and Braden off Hutta. But… you did, and you could, I was just….”

“Wonderin’ what kinda money I had, huh?” Seran chuckled softly, waving a hand as if he could shoo off her embarrassment. “It’s fine. I’m not big on having things so I keep funds for when I need ‘em. Seein’ that they got a proper burial, that was important. Just sorry we’ll miss it.”

“Yeah… but we’re doing the right thing. I mean, this was Braden’s dream.” Mako sighed, fiddling with her shuttle pass. “When you agreed to do this, he was so happy. He said you were Great Hunt material, that you really stood a chance to win this, and… this is what he’d want, more than anything. To see you do this.”

“Us,” he corrected. “We’re a team now, right kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” she huffed, kicking at his ankle.

“Sure you’re not.” Seran grinned at her, catching her hand when she went to shove at him and holding it gently. “Look at that tiny hand.”

“Seran-vin!”

“Okay, okay.” He squeezed her hand and let it go. “But we are a team. I’m not just gonna drop you off t’ fend for yourself.”

Mako gave him a small smile for that, nodding. “Okay. Thanks, Seran. Really.”

This was built out of a lot of frustration. I never finished the book (it was painfully dry) but I'd seen what they did to Revan in SWTOR and that was enough to disgust me. So, here's my take on things. I'll find the later parts at some point, but this does stand alone. This particular part only addresses the canon ship of Revan/Bastila, which I do not support, and my reasons why not. [Tumblr post] .

I’ve played through KOTOR multiple times. First two were on the Xbox, but I’ve had it on Steam since and had a couple more playthroughs, not counting incomplete ones when I get distracted. So I’d say I’m qualified to comment on character dynamics. And on personality alone, I can’t see Revan and Bastila having a healthy relationship.

I want to make it clear, I’m not bashing here. If you ship them, that’s okay. That’s your choice, heaven knows that’s the choice that’s being pushed as “canon” so go for it. Good for you, I mean that seriously. But I can’t personally support it, and even ignoring the conflict of their personalities.

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Coming off of NaNo, it's a nice reflection of a good way to work on dealing with things, so here were some tips of mine on handling NaNo and also admittedly ways that can help period with writing first drafts. [Tumblr post]

1. Delete NOTHING.
That’s right, delete nothing. That just cuts your word count. NaNo isn’t about editing, it’s about getting words on paper. So if you wrote it, leave it. If you can’t stand to look at it, change the color so it’s so pale it’s almost invisible or put it somewhere else - just keep it so you can count the words you’ve legitimately written for later.

2. Bribe yourself shamelessly
I personally don’t let myself online until I have a couple hundred down minimum. I have a friend who lets herself have treats at certain benchmarks.

3. Make yourself accountable
Tell people you’re doing NaNo, and keep up-to-date account of your progress – the site is fantastic for that.

4. Don’t limit yourself
If you’re having a good day where you’re on fire writing wise? Go for it. You never know when you’ll need some breathing room.

5. Do not panic
This is a competition with yourself. Just breathe, do your best. There’s no penalty for failure - even a hundred words in a month is a hundred more than you started with.

6. Break it down
50K in November comes out to about 1667 words a day for thirty days. Try not to stress over the big five-oh and keep the daily in mind. You’ll be fine.

7. Grab a buddy and have fun
There’s people on the forums, and plenty around here on Tumblr, doing this. Go looking for others, share some encouragement, maybe swap snippets of your work. Encouraging each other is huge.

8. Do NOT edit
November is for writing, not editing. Write-write-write and don’t worry about if it’s “good” or not. Words count regardless of content.

9. Remember that there is no one way to get to 50K
Different things work for different people. I have a fairly detailed plan, some people are just flying by the seat of their pants. Some people set themselves up so they write more most days and have rest days. Some people (like me) know that if they don’t write some every day they’re in trouble. If something isn’t working, find something else.

10. Be freakin’ proud
This is a really big thing and just DOING it is huge, good for you.

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Genesis doesn’t actually need materia to summon fire. Much like Sephiroth calling down a storm in Advent Children, the element responds to his will.

Additional note: As the ability is directly tied to the J-cells he carries, Genesis’ natural body temperature is higher than expected even for a SOLDIER 1st. Because he’s still human, however, it creates a conflict between his system and temperature changes. Increased heat, most notably the damp heat of humid areas, make him lethargic and slightly ill. Abrupt chills cause brief discomfort that can sting eyes, throat, and sinuses with corresponding reactions.

PROMPT: I’m 80% sure that’s not supposed to be on fire. [Tumblr post]

“I’m eighty percent sure that isn’t supposed to be on fire.”

“That depends on perspective, but I can offer one hundred percent assurance that it is, in fact, actually on fire,” Genesis said, a small smile on his lips as he leaned against the wall. He could feel Angeal frowning at him, but wasn’t terribly concerned. “And really, it’s artistic don’t you think?”

“If you’re counting surrealism, certainly.” Sephiroth tilted his head a little, eyeing the chaotic mass of flames. “Why is that area blue? Materia doesn’t generally create irregular temperatures.”

“It was a collaborative effort, and I did not use materia.” Genesis raised a hand in an idle gesture, flames licking at his fingertips in a casual display of his control over the element in question. “Besides, it was a very effective lesson.”

“I can’t remember why Lazard wanted you to teach, but somehow I don’t think he had this in mind,” Angeal muttered, still frowning.

“Tsk, jealousy doesn’t become you, my friend.” Genesis’ smile was pleased, and if it had a slightly wicked edge, well, they should have seen that coming. “I think I enjoy being a hands-on instructor much more than trying to get people to listen to me in a classroom.”

“And you also got to set ShinRa property on fire for reasons that did not make you extra paperwork,” Sephiroth added.

“I admit that was quite an alluring bonus, yes.”

There was some discussion over on Tumblr (largely between

vorpalgirl and myself) about mixing Sailor Moon with other fandoms. This was the first post regarding Sailor Moon/FF7. [Tumblr post]

Here’s an overview of what I’m reviewing based on the analysis of what I know of SM (I watched most of the original English dubs during it’s Toonami run) and also what I knew from fanfics (then went and researched to make sure) so here’s one major thing I guess.

In Sailor Moon, you have the setup that there were once civilizations across our galaxy, focusing on our particular solar system. Each planet had a princess, except for Earth - and then there was the Moon Kingdom, who ruled over the whole solar system except for Earth. They were still in negotiations, presumably because Earth was more “primitive” and not yet ready to play with the big guns or something. Personally, I think it’s prejudice because they didn’t have a Princess to send to court but what do I know?

So you have the following players:

Moon Kingdom: Queen Serenity, Princess Serenity, and the sentient feline advisers Artemis and Luna

Inner Senshi: Princesses Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Mars are all Serenity’s private guard, and Venus is the leader

Outer Senshi: Princesses Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto - Pluto and Saturn are a bit to themselves, however, as Pluto is charged with guarding the time gate and Saturn (the Sailor of Death and Rebirth) exists as a failsafe to destroy everything and allow for controlled reincarnation instead of them all just being slaughtered

Earth Kingdom: the unnamed king and queen, Prince Endymion, the four Heavenly Kings (aka the Shitennou: Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, and Jadeite) as well as the High Priest Helios, and Beryl who is some sort of well regarded sage/sorceress.

Stand out addition: Queen Metallia, a sentient being with no real solid form, noted for maliciousness, who takes hosts/possesses people and also brainwashes people to do her bidding. (Questionable on the gender here, but it’s the pronoun used.)

More under the cut. Also spoilers for Sailor Moon lore, I suppose?

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PROMPT: Honestly who expected a cave in. The Jedi/Sith did but they can't always be right. [Tumblr post]

There was a long moment of delicate clattering, rocks finding new spaces in the aftermath of whatever had happened to cave in their tunnel. Despite the shouting before, the silence extended to everyone, nothing to be heard but breathing.

A light flashed on abruptly, Talos having rescued his penlight from his belt. “Goodness… is everyone quite alright?”

“I realize I may be a bit biased, so I’ll just say, objectively, situations that involve sudden loss of light and being pummeled with a variety of hard objects are not alright with me,” Tharan said. “And if you point that in my face again, Lieutenant, I’m going to have to shoot you. In the name of peacekeeping, you understand.”

“Don’t start,” Zenith warned, turning on the emergency light he’d hooked to his pack and looking around with a scowl. “Should have listened to the Sith, she was right. We’re blocked off.”

“She has a way about that prediction business,” Talos admitted, shining the light around the blockage. “I’m not certain we can get out that way.”

“Well we’d better - I’m not sure I like the thought of them being left alone,” Tharan said, dusting his jacket off with a grimace and checking his comm. “The signal is too weak to send something out. Would your lady come back for you, Lieutenant?”

Talos’ gaze grew distant a moment, his head tilting slightly as he considered it. “Lord Saare-ha is many things, Doctor. But you have to understand, she is loyal to those proven loyal to her.”

“Yeah, but is it enough that she’d come for you?” Zenith asked. “Jedi have their issues, and sometimes Ji’al can be over the top, but he’ll come for us the second he has a chance.”

“That’s quite admirable, I suppose.” Talos sighed. “You have to understand, Saare-ha may be his twin, but she was never exactly like him. She won’t be coming for us.”

“Of course not. You can teach a Sith to mimic compassion but that doesn’t mean they feel it,” Tharan muttered.

“You don’t understand,” Talos said, examining the rock a bit more. “She said this would happen. She’s not going to be coming, because she’ll have already sent someone to do it. And if it’s who I think it might be, you should be a bit more careful about your mutterings about the denizens of Imperial space.”

This was a prompt given to

up-sideand-down that I ran off with. [Tumblr post]

PROMPT: Angeal carving tiny wooden miniatures of his bfs in his free time. Someone from Shinra's Merchandising Department catches wind of it and by the next month, there are official ones being sold all over Midgar. Even though he owns the originals, Angeal still purchases a limited edition set anyway.

Angeal wasn’t prone to losing things; it came with not having started with enough that you could afford to, something he’d been grateful Cloud understood if no one else was quite level. So losing something was a special level of… something, somewhere more than annoyance but not quite distress. Especially if it was something important.

And no matter how crazy the PR people were getting, how accurate they were trying to be, their work - while nice - wasn’t his. He’d put more than detail into his carvings, damn it, he’d put love. It was in the way Sephiroth stood just a little more on his right leg than his left; the way Genesis’ hand was opened just before he’d beckon one of them to him; the way Zack’s head tipped to the side just like when he was really paying attention; the way Cloud’s brows were tight with absolutely ferocious determination. These were special things, and while yeah, he did buy some of the others, he wanted his own.

And they were missing.

Finally deciding he needed to enlist some help, Angeal headed down the hall to have a word with Genesis, letting himself in without really paying much attention to the energies that bumped comfortably against his senses. “Gen, I need your help. I’ve… what are you doing?”

Genesis blinked slowly at him, lips twitching in a mighty effort not to smile. “… painting.”

“Painting,” Angeal repeated slowly. “What are you painting?”

“It’s a dragon!” Zack informed him.

“We thought, in light of what a good sport you’d been about this merchandising nonsense, that perhaps another gentler touch was called for,” Genesis explained. “Sephiroth, if you’d go get them…? And Cloud.”

“I’m not entirely certain he’ll be willing to come before he’s done,” Sephiroth warned, but rose from his seat and headed back towards Genesis’ study.

After some explaining and coaxing, Cloud came out with Sephiroth, carrying a sturdy box between them. They shared a long look, but eventually it was Cloud himself who was decided as the one to talk. “I’m sorry if you worried, we were hoping you’d still be finishing up evals for another hour.”

“With everyone else home, I wanted to be.” Angeal let himself be pulled into a seat, leaning into Sephiroth as the taller First settled at his side. “What’s going on?”

“We could tell that you never thought the copies that the merchandising department made were quite to your standards,” Sephiroth explained. “Given the diverse skill sets amongst the four of us, we’d thought perhaps something could be done.”

Angeal shook his head. “There’s got to be hundreds of them, out there, guys, you can’t fix them all. It’s fine.”

“I really don’t care about all the rest of them, Angeal,” Genesis said, gesturing to the box Cloud had placed gently on the table. “You, however, are quite the person of interest for all of us.”

Understanding was right on the edge of his thoughts. “You took my originals?”

“We were hoping to have them dressed up for when you got home,” Cloud said, dropping the front of the box to reveal the four figures he’d been missing, in varying states of dress. Outfits from quality materials, tiny stitchwork done with intense care and designed with an artists’ eye.

Feeling the earlier anxiety drain away, Angeal looked at the four of them with a wide grin. “I want the whole story.”

PROMPT: I hope Fancy Boots over there has good aim, because we’re only going to get one shot at this guy. [Tumblr post]

Cid leaned back from where he’d been looking around the mountain, chewing on his cigarette a long moment as he looked back to the former SOLDIER currently leading this crazy train. “You sure about this?”

“He’s our best chance,” Cloud said.

“We’re only gonna get one shot before we’re targets, an’ we’re an awful ways away,” Cid reminded him, pointing across the mountain at the nestled hatchlings and their . “That’s a good thirty fuckin’ yards at an angle that’d make you sweat with a scope. An’ all he’s got is that fuckin’ pea shooter-”

The report of the gun would have been enough for a pause in conversation, but watching the entire nest buckle in on itself stopped Cid entirely. The shift of weight sent it sliding, rocks around it shifting ominously and the dragon fixating on saving it’s young immediately.

Vincent examined his gun a moment, glancing back to Cloud. “We can go around. It won’t bother us.”

Cloud nodded and started to lead them into the mountains, and Cid fell in step with the stranger they’d picked up.

“The fuck was that about?” He asked, though he kept his voice low in deference to not drawing attention. He still had to wait a while before he got an answer, a small frown turning the supposedly-former-Turk’s lips down.

“Never underestimate what a mother will do for her offspring, Captain,” Vincent advised. “If you can keep her focused on them, she’ll do whatever you like.”

A little snippet for Ocarina of Time, post-game. [Tumblr post]

She sent him back. After everything they’d been through together, Zelda sent him back, and Link was faced with a peaceful world in a body that still had the roundness of baby fat and a soul that had been forced to live through horrifying things no child should ever know.

It was hard enough, what he’d done already, but to live the years the sages had stolen from him in a world where no one else could possibly understand? Where he felt a keen loss of his own sense of self and had no comfort? He didn’t belong in Hyrule, not this one, not after everything… and once Navi left, he couldn’t make himself stay.

With Epona at his side, Link packed up and left the kingdom he’d sacrificed his past and future for, in hopes of finding somewhere he could fit in.

PROMPT: You actually believed that I would let you go? [Tumblr post]

Angeal had been with him when he got the call, heard that his mission to Wutai had been reassigned, that he had been grounded to headquarters until further notice-

Genesis didn’t read more than that, the paper smoking and turning black as it caught fire, the minor use of magic something he didn’t have to even think of. The mission to Wutai was necessary, there was no reason for Lazard to change his mind without prodding. And there were very few people influential enough to manage it.

Angeal followed him down to Sephiroth’s apartment, his warnings ignored as Genesis used his own codes to get in without bothering to knock. “Gen, don’t-”

“Sephiroth!”

The man in question was waiting, had to be; there was something heating in the kitchen and he didn’t look terribly surprised. “Genesis. Angeal.”

“How fucking dare you?” Genesis demanded, getting within range where he could just hit him if there wasn’t somehow some reason for this. “This was my mission, my turn in Wutai. How dare you go behind me and ruin that?”

“You have no business in Wutai, as you are now,” Sephiroth said.

“You think you get to make that call? That you get to judge me?” Genesis snarled, fists clenched and beginning to smoke. “People think you’re so perfect, precious Silver General of ShinRa. Gods forbid someone stands as your equal! I was ready!”

“You’re wounded.” Sephiroth gestured to his shoulder. “It should have healed by now, but it hasn’t.”

“I’m fine-” Genesis choked on a gasp when Sephiroth reached out, pressing near it, the inflamed skin beneath his shirt and bandaging sending signals of pain so strong it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

"You were saying something?” Sephiroth asked quietly, letting the weight of his hand stay there.

Genesis grit his teeth and smacked Sephiroth’s hand away. “Does this do it for you? Do you like to see me in pain? Does my suffering please you?”

"This isn’t about anything so petty, Genesis,” Sephiroth said, frowning. “You need to be here, for your health.”

“I need to be in the field winning this war,” Genesis snapped. “We’re SOLDIER, damn it, don’t coddle me. We have people over there dying, I can end this. I refuse to be put on the sidelines, especially so you can replace me!”

"None of us are going anywhere,” Sephiroth said, a note of steel to his voice that he rarely used to the two of them. “This isn’t about the war. This isn’t about me. This is about you, about you being hurt. I’ve stood by the sidelines long enough, Genesis, I’m not going to watch you go off to die–”

“You think I’m that weak?”

“I think you’re so damned focus on proving yourself that you wouldn’t care, so long as you went down in a blaze of glory.” Sephiroth frowned deeply. “Bad enough we do have people out there dying. I understand that, I was born for this, Genesis, I understand. But if you think I’m going to let you go, at the very real risk of you never coming back, then we have a lot more to talk about than I’d thought.”

Sephiroth took a deep, steadying breath, looking at Genesis. “It was never about competition, Genesis. You have nothing to prove, not to me. You haven’t for years. I’m not trying to keep you back as a SOLDIER. I’m trying to have your back, as a friend.”

[Tumblr post] Minor spoilers for the end of the Imperial Agent Storyline, if you squint.

“We are designed to be disposable.” Lathi’s voice was heard even before the holo image fully turned on, flicking between the blues of the projector image, a bare six inches for a man who was well over six feet tall in real life. “Our names are supposed to be taken, our identities whatever the Empire assigned us, no ties that don’t string us back to our creators.”

He’d first appeared in that same uniform he’d worn when they first met. But the helmet was coming off, set aside as he worked on removing the rest, slowly dropping the Imperial accent. “The thing is, Blakk, we are people. And we have names, and we have identities, and we have ties to people beyond our handlers.”

There was no telling what color his clothes were, but he recognized the style of the jacket as a deliberate reference to one of Seran’s, a necklace with a crystal pendant going around his neck before he settled. “If you’ve received this, I’ve put Cipher Seven in retirement, before I could be retired, and if they haven’t come for Cipher Nine, they will. Fortunately, Cipher’s are designed to be disposable. You have the skills to be anyone you want, anywhere you want.”

The image fuzzed a moment, a low buzz of static before the light went out, only one more line of audio playing Lathi’s deep echo of Seran’s drawl.

“I look forward to meeting you again dzzzzzzz -akk.”

There was static eating the end of it, but if someone had been there to comment, he’d have said that it was him holding it so tight that caused the unfortunate distortion. There was no reason for any other reaction, after all.

This was from

norcumi over on Tumblr. PROMPT: Rex and Obi-Wan, 26. “I didn’t intend to kiss you.” [Tumblr post]

Officially, Rex was in charge of the 501st, and General Skywalker’s right-hand man. And Cody had 212, with Kenobi. That was never a question. But it wasn’t strange to find the pair of them switched when both generals were in the same place and technically off duty.

Usually, though, they were much more relaxed even walking in silence. But the silence felt heavy with the strain of unspoken words, and it was ridiculous not to address it. “So, about what happened back there. I didn’t intend to kiss you, you know.”

The corner of Obi-Wan’s lips were quirked a bit when he looked over. “I’m interested in hearing what you were intending, then.”

Rex was fully ready to give his best effort to explain exactly how his attempt to ‘hide’ the general had turned into kissing him when he turned to face Obi-Wan and saw that damned twinkle in his eyes. “… well not if you’re gonna be like that about it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Obi-Wan said mildly.

“Didn’t need to.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. “Shall we continue, then?”

Muttering under his breath, Rex fell back into step, not looking back at the general until there was a hand touching his arm, keeping him back a step from entering the mess. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what you intended, Captain, but I would like to point out that I certainly didn’t protest your technique.” Obi-Wan let him go, then, slipping in no doubt to go find Anakin.

Which was just as well, because Rex had some thinking to do about that.

[Tumblr post]

“Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it!”

Seran paused, a few steps from the door, and glanced back at the officer. “You’ll pay double of anythin’ huh?”

There had been a tight desperation to the man’s features that began to ease up, a small smile touching his lips. “That’s right. Let’s talk credits, hunter. You have a price, and I’m willing to pay. Just get rid of that Sith and her pet and I’ll fill your account. No more playing bodyguard for those ungrateful wretches. Someone of your caliber shouldn’t be tasked with such a mundane job anyway.”

Seran turned to face the man properly, hands resting on his belt. “So, you’re gonna buy their lives out of my hands, and you’ll pay enough to cover the loss?”

“Of course! I realize such powerful figures likely have extensive funds but I assure you-” the man cut himself off, eyes widening as Seran pulled his blaster. “What are you doing?”

“Correcting your assumption,” he said simply, raising it without hesitation. “It’s not a job. They’re my kids.”

“Oh, oh I… I’m sorry I didn’t…” The man went pale, holding his hands up. “No, no please you don’t have to do this. Don’t -!”

A single shot through the head was followed by several into his chest, to make sure the idiot was dead. Seran activated his comm, going around the desk. “Mako? We need t’ do some research. Someone’s out for our people.”

This was a little questionnaire I did two years ago, but things have changed since then so I'm going to reuse the questions and update my answers!

1. Your 3 fanfics with the most comments (I will skip Ao3, because that counts my comments):

To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN) - 660
Angel's Wings (FFN) - 214
It's Not a Game (Ao3 & FFN) - 45

2. Your 3 fanfics with the most kudos (Ao3) / faves (FFN):

Angel's Wings (FFN) - 265 (FFN)
To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN) - 353 (Ao3)
Party of Five (Ao3 & FFN) - 234 (Ao3)

3. Your oldest fanfic:

my oldest ever was a DBZ piece that is no longer up
on my Ao3/FFN accounts, Angel's Wings (FFN) is the oldest, and has been discontinued (it was rebooted as To Be Human)

4. Your latest fanfic:

Dewprism: Journey to the [Relic] (Ao3 & FFN) is my latest, a semi novelization of the old PS1 classic Threads of Fate, aka Dewprism

5. Your proudest fanfic:

Hands down, I am most proud of To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN). It took the most work, three years of work, it's the longest (see the next question) and I put so, so much into it. It made me really dig deep into the canon materials and do a lot of research, and really focus to make my characterizations and plot solid and compelling. I'm just tremendously, tremendously proud of it.

6. Your longest fanfic:

That award goes to To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN), which clocks in at 232,464 words and 105 chapters.

7. Your 3 fanfics with the most hits (Ao3)/views (FFN):

To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN)- 109,714 (FFN) & 11,038 (Ao3)
Angel's Wings (FFN) - 71,235 (FFN)
It's Not a Game (Ao3 & FFN) - 4965 (FFN)

8. Your 3 fanfics with the most bookmarks (Ao3):

To Be Human (Ao3 & FFN) - 89
Party of Five (Ao3 & FFN) - 70
It's Not a Game (Ao3 & FFN) - 36

9. Your top 3 crossover fanfics:

I've only ever posted one crossover, which is It's Not a Game (Ao3 & FFN), an Avengers/FF7 crossover

10. Your favorite character to write in fanfic:

This is a really hard call, but I will say I've always had a lot of fun writing Genesis (FF7). He's such a drama queen, but he's actually got a lot of potential for more depth than canon gives him, that I try to explore.

11. Bonus Round - a fic you love that isn't already listed above:

I think out of the ones I have posted, I would like to promo my whole Welcome to FFVII series. It is basically where I'm trying to beat the given timelines into something vaguely logical, and make sense of that foggy, nebulous "before" canon. In short, the series endeavors to say what happened to lead up to the canon games, how all the different characters came to join ShinRa, and how ShinRa itself was formed.
You can find all the works gathered HERE on Ao3. As of this moment, two are up on FFN - Welcome to ShinRa and Welcome to the Science Department.

[Tumblr post]

99.9% Immunity - (character) never gets sick, right? Wrong.

Behind Closed Doors - (character) has a solid public face, but in private they let themselves be taken care of when they’re not well

Bless You - (character) has a particularly sneezy cold, and may or may not be able to retreat from life to deal with it.

Don’t Speak - (character) has a horribly sore throat and is reduced to barely talking while they load up on hot drinks and soup to recover.

Elephant in the Room - (character) is sick, but for some reason - rank, personality, etc - no one is talking about it

Heroes Don’t Take Sick Days - there’s no time to rest when you have to save the world, so (character) has to push themselves even when miserable

I’m Dying - (character) has a headcold and despite that not being anywhere near the worst they’ve ever been, they’re flailing about it to anyone who will listen

Insult to Injury - as if being injured wasn’t enough, (character) is getting sick too

Ill Timed - it’s the worst possible time for (character) to be sick, but their body didn’t get the memo

Irreplaceable - (character) is the leader/boss and isn’t able to take personal time off, even when they’re under the weather

It’s Nothing - (character) insists they’re fine, right up until they collapse

Judgement Call - (character) really isn’t feeling well, but has pressing obligations. Others could step up, but no one is as qualified. They choose to…

Medic Down - every group seems to have a primary caretaker. How do they handle it when (character) is the one sick?

Milking It - if (character) has to be sick, they’re at least going to get as much pampering out of others as they can

Misery Loves Company - (character) is under the weather and not up for much, but really appreciates having someone there. Even if that someone is sick too.

Not a Word - (character) said they don’t get sick, and isn’t in the mood for anyone to remind them while they recover

No Rest for the Wicked - the big bad (character) has more to worry about than the good guys

Open Secret - everyone knows (character) is sick, but they’re trying so hard no one has said anything

Painfully Polite - (character) has very strong feelings about how one should behave, and they are even more mindful when they’re not at their best, talking through a sore throat, trying not to cough, attempting to stifle sneezes, etc.

Persuasive Partners - (character) is sick, and refusing to stay put; their partner(s) give them a good reason to stay in bed

Stay With Me - (character A) rarely asks for help, but they’re feeling miserable enough to ask (character B) to keep them company a while.

Stepping Up - boss/leader (character) is clearly miserable, so the others go out of their way to take as much of their workload as possible

Suffer in Silence - for whatever reason, (character) doesn’t want anyone to know they’re sick, and does everything they can to hide it

Take One Down… - (character) gets sick, and spreads it to the rest of the group

Team Mom/Dad - (character) is the one to always take care of others on the team

The Wolf Cries True - (character) has been known to exaggerate or even pretend they’re sick, only this time they’re telling the truth

This is Your Fault - (character A) was clingy while they were sick, and now (character B) has it

Why Didn’t You Say? - (character) hasn’t been feeling well, making for some uncharacteristic behavior, and their partner(s)/team/friends are much more understanding once they realize why

With Kid Gloves On - it’s a known fact that (character) has trouble accepting help, even when they’re sick; the others have learned specific “acceptable” methods over time

You Heard Nothing - (character) is obviously coming down sick - sneezing, sniffling, coughing - and absolutely refusing to admit to it, let alone take things easy.

From this sickfic prompt list. [Tumblr post] Partially under a cut because it got long.

There were certain behaviors that had to be observed in a professional setting. For one, Lazard had worked hard to gain the trust and respect of his men, and all the harder for the respect of the rest of the Board of Directors, given he was one of the youngest executives, certainly to hold as much power as he did. And Sephiroth had a reputation to maintain, both amongst the ranks and with dealing with those same executives. So while there were suspicions, and certainly their closest friends were aware, neither man was quick to make their relationship public.

That said, if you knew what to look for, there were some tells. Like the fact that every time Lazard had attempted to get coffee, someone had replaced it with some variant of black tea. Someone with high enough clearance to come and go as he pleased into his private office. And someone who was not only aware of the meaning behind the change in the decorative fold of his handkerchief to something much more practical for use, who would all but verbally call him on it.

Leaving a box of tissues on his desk was going a little far, however, and the next time Sephiroth came into his office, Lazard hit the automatic door lock and glared at him. “You will stop that.”

A fine silver brow arched, and there was a slight shift between ‘general’ to ‘lover’ in his tone. “And how late are you working tonight, Director?”

“As late as my due work demands, General.”

“Mmhm.” Funny how much two syllables could say, without even using words. “You know what you’re going to do to yourself.”

“It’s nothing I can’t manage.”

“Every fall, Lazard.” He crossed to the desk in a soft swish of leather, gloved hands resting on the desk. “I could set a clock by you.”

“Exam and promotion season is an extremely busy time, to say nothing of the end of the year,” Lazard said, and no, he was not being defensive; it was fact.

“It would be much easier if you would delegate,” Sephiroth reminded him, an age old argument.

“I’m the Director, not all of it can be delegated.”

“I’m the General; who, exactly, do you expect to tell me no?”

( Read more... )

A prompt given for some post-DOC Strifesodos. [Tumblr post]

It was a quiet morning, and even though Genesis was better at mornings than he used to be, he still preferred to ease into them. All the better ones that Cloud had stayed the night, waking to his warmth against him even though Cloud always seemed to wake up first.

They were settled on the porch in comfortable silence when Cloud spoke up. “I dreamt about you last night.”

Genesis arched a brow, glancing at him. “Ohh? Something requiring a reenactment, I hope?”

Cloud huffed, giving his shoulder a light shove even though he was smiling. “No, not that. It was something different. I think… maybe it was in Junon? There was a lot of water, and it was cold and rainy. You brought me hot chocolate and picked on a really awful scarf I was wearing.”

Genesis’ expression softened a little and he nodded, reaching over to brush one unruly spike of blond hair out of his lover’s face. “That happened, yes. Angeal was trying to teach Zack to knit, and he used the absolute worst colors for all of us. You made it work, I suppose. I actually found it rather cute.”

Cloud relaxed with a small smile, relieved it was a real memory. Since reuniting, they’d spent time working on it off and on as he was ready, bits and pieces.

Genesis was privately pleased that so many that came back naturally were of them together, even in times they weren’t yet ‘together’ - it felt good, to give that back to him. Especially after helping take so much away.

A light nudge at his leg made him look to Cloud, who gave him a knowing look. “None of that. It was a good dream.”

“Even better awake?” He asked softly, smiling when Cloud leaned in for a coffee-flavored kiss.

“Even better.”

RE the "Zack was ready to leave the Lifestream and fight Sephiroth" post (Where is Zack in ACC?)

vorpalgirl had said the following on Tumblr:

You know that "Zack was literally offering to step out of the Lifestream & help Cloud" theory of yours? Yea that theory has STUCK IN MY HEAD & I've been recalling the CotL novella & how Aerith didn't want to make her own remnants bc it "wouldn't really be her" meeting Cloud, & imagining what it would have been like if Zack had actually had to do it AND HE KNEW HE WAS A REMNANT like half of him was left in the LS & he knew it but was stuck as half of himself & curse you I have yet another plunny

Obviously, I had to reply. [Tumblr post here]

*delighted cackling*

Sign me up, I’d read that like crazy. Heck, I already wrote the one little three-parter based off of it so obvious support here. I’m a happy, happy enabler and will hand out plunnies like candy.

Here’s another fun thought for you: Remnants are based off memories, and part of that person, right? Let’s look at Sephiroth’s.

Kadaj:

appearance: short, slim and compact, short and stylishly messy hair
personality: spitfire, possessive, quick tempered, emotional, sassy, passionate
notes: ringleader, center of attention, jealous of Sephiroth

Loz:

appearance: bulkier than Sephiroth by far, short hair, long sideburns, very squared face and thick brows
personality: goes along with Kadaj despite any misgivings, much more emotionally sensitive, playful, not neurotypical
notes: family oriented, perceived as childish

Yazoo:

appearance: most like Sephiroth, long hair, willowy build and similarly ‘pretty’ - tends to look bored until you really poke his emotions
personality: appears passive, willing to follow orders; has very few people/things he appears concerned with, but can become emotional when they’re attacked in some way, not very talkative
notes: has several of Sephiroth’s tics in CC, including the “hn” all three SHM have, fluidly graceful, appears to enjoy action

Now, I do know what canon says. And take this as you will. BUT consider:

I’m just saying, I don’t think Sephiroth forgot EVERYTHING.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but these are some of the OCs that come up in my work. *mark original places

Under a cut, because it got quite long.
( Read more... )

[Tumblr post] There is a long discussion at the Tumblr post, discussing the size of materia and how one might be able to reconcile various canons. My two cents is copied over below:

Okay, first off, let me say this: I do not personally know of anywhere that canonically addresses size in this precise manner. Here’s what canon does say: it fits in slots for weapons, accessories, etc.

Canon also says this: it grows.

Materia, with enough use, will grow and split off a second version of itself. One can assume, then, that happens via size - it gets bigger. Now, animation probably plays a big part in appearances, yes, but let’s also consider that in Advent Children you actually see two sizes of materia - the white materia, seen briefly falling after Aerith’s death - is about the size of a marble. Compare that to the chest of glowy tennis balls and you can tell there’s something going on. So here’s my thought on the matter.

All that materia in that chest? The materia that Yuffie claims as hers, in fact? (”Who’s been touchin’ my materia?” - did she recognize the summon? there can’t be a lot of them) I would say that’s from the year spent chasing Sephiroth.

A year of at least eight people constantly using that materia. Materia that may have once been the same size as the white materia/Holy, but after a year of spammed usage every day, got so large that they wouldn’t even fit in a standard slot.

Looking back to Crisis Core, assuming that the slots on the Buster Sword were designed for mastered materia only while Zack still has a bracer on his wrist and can get a special ribbon for Aerith for other materia, supports the same concept.

Crisis Core also presents the unique natural vs. manufactured materia argument, so here’s my take on trying to make the game mechanics add up to a plausible “real life” headcanon that can be used - naturally formed materia, the way it’s “meant” to be, is what you get in OG. As you level it up, you slowly unlock greater abilities - can be used more, can use stronger spells. This isn’t the case in Crisis Core. A mastered Cure materia will never be able to cast Curaga in CC, so my determination is this: while they’re able to mimic the knowledge of the ancients, enough to capture A spell, the false nature of the materia prevents a good connection to the lifestream and therefore can’t continue to “learn” more spells with experience.

At no point can you buy Summons in CC, so I’m going to say that they can’t be manufactured. Depending on your personal beliefs about the nature and origin of summons ~~such as my own as memories of beings who once walked the Planet~~ it probably makes perfect sense.

[Tumblr post] Originally there was a video attached to this, just showing the date between Cloud and Aerith.

So, I hadn’t played the FF7 OG all the way through - still haven’t, in fact - but I just got to the Gold Saucer date, and it turns out it’s with Aerith! Which is especially cool, because I didn’t know about the conversation they have. The above isn’t my video, it’s from MasterLL on YouTube and just a quick grab of the date - click through to get it - but I got it so it starts right in the area of the conversation.

And of course, this came out before Crisis Core, so there’s no knowing if they thought maybe Zack told Aerith about Cloud or not, but the fact remains that they were very close – you don’t write over 80 letters to someone for over four years after no contact at all that you don’t have significant feelings for. And I’m not sure what she thinks is going on, what maybe she senses - in the Remake, I’m hoping for something of an actual flinch, or a haunted look while she’s dealing with Cloud-shadow-of-Zack - but it’s clear she knows something’s up.

Below is the conversation, for those who can’t do the video:

Aerith *looks away from the window, down at her boots for a moment* “First off, it bothered me how you looked exactly alike.” *she looks up at Cloud* “Two completely different people, but look exactly the same.” *she makes a gesture with her hand* “The way you walk, gesture… I think I must have seen him again, in you.” *she shakes her head* “But you’re different.” *looks down again* “Things are different…”

-screen fades, showing the outside of the gondola-

Aerith: “Cloud… I’m searching for you.”

Cloud: “………?”

Aerith: “I want to meet you.”

Cloud: “But I’m right here.”

Aerith: (I know, I know… what I mean is….) “I want to meet…….you.”

I just had to stop playing and put this post together, because that hit me in the feels so hard. She knows. She’s not sure what it means, but she knows. And I like to think, maybe, she and Tifa talked. I hope Tifa had someone to talk to, so young and no time or resources to really help Cloud and she knows something’s wrong, too… this is something I really want to see in the Remake, in more detail.

I have so many feels right now…. I hadn’t taken time to look at the dates before, I’ll have to look up the others, but… I seriously am glad this was the one I saw, for my first time. I needed this conversation. ~~So did Cloud.~~

[Tumblr post]

risingoflights did THIS THING where Hojo apparently wears Silver Elite (or other Sephiroth merch) type shirts under his lab stuff. And then had to ask, how would your muses react? Well, I have a lot of them ~~I pretty much write everybody~~ but here’s some fun highlights with my main rp ones, because I just had to answer that… ended up longer than planned, but ah well. Fun.

Exhibitions were interesting. On the one hand, they were enjoyable to watch, on the other - if you were close to the SOLDIERs being paraded around for them - you were aware that they didn’t quite enjoy it so much. Given that Lazard’s job essentially boiled down to “SOLDIER management” and he was particularly close to his Firsts, he was torn between enjoying watching them move and being aware that Sephiroth was annoyed at having to slow himself down, Angeal hated ‘showboating’ and thought they were setting standards too high, and Genesis would be spoiling for a fight after because this was only enough to get them slightly warmed up. Two of the three top SOLDIERs annoyed and the most volatile wanting to start something was not his ideal situation.

But this wasn’t exactly his choice, so at least there was standing by to watch with the other department heads, and keeping an expression of polite interest while he watched what really was poetry in motion as the trio went through the motions of a mock spar to inspire the others before they would go through their own much more serious matches. That some people wanted to include monster fights was news, and later he was going to have so much paperwork for whoever didn’t understand that ice plus fire was water.

Given the pitch Scarlet hit when they were washed over, he didn’t have to look to know everyone had been hit. There was a brief look from Sephiroth, lips twitching in what he was certain was amusement. Angeal, bless the man, rounded some people up to get towels, which they brought over while a variety of jackets ended up getting peeled off. Scarlet was going back inside, the President was probably considering it, and Rufus wasn’t even in sight at this point.

“You could at least take the jacket off,” Sephiroth pointed out quietly, coming to his side. “And the glasses. Can you see like that?”

“Somewhat, not that there’s much to see right now.” Still, Lazard took them off, wiping his eyes and blinking a bit before working at his jacket. “That was sloppy.”

“It was. Maybe we’ll give them to Genesis for remedial training,” he suggested mildly, taking the glasses out of his pocket and wrapping them lightly in the unfortunately damp handkerchief that had flopped over in his pocket.

“Who are you trying to punish, them or me?” Genesis fluffed at the towel he was holding, heating it idly. “Here. Angeal’s being sociable and nice to the others.”

“He likes being helpful, and we appreciate it.” There was a gleam of silver as Veld was down to a dress shirt while he examined his jacket, but that wasn’t what kept Lazard’s gaze. No, in this one instance, that was Hojo, who was also down his jacket to a familiar black and white shirt.

Silver Elite.

“Good gods,” Genesis muttered, following his gaze, a fine brow arched incredulously. “Sephiroth…”

“No.” The other First neither knew, nor cared, what his friend was going to say. He tore his gaze from the rather confusing sight and frowned, a firm touch of fingertips making Lazard look at him. “No.”

Lazard made a sincere effort not to laugh, and managed that much, though he did smile a little. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to,” he muttered, unamused. “Not a word. Either of you.”

“I’d never,” Genesis all but purred, grinning. “That’s a fan you can keep.”

“Genesis,” Sephiroth’s tone alone was a warning that had Angeal coming back. Unfortunately, as he was the one who’d handed the professor his towel, he came back with a bit of a bemused smile. Thankfully, his level nature prevailed.

“Well, no one is naked and it’s just a lot of cold water. We can clean it up pretty quickly and continue, but I suggest we get a better barrier later,” Angeal said, looking at them all briefly before gravitating to Genesis in instinctive damage control. “It shouldn’t take long to find some things to be worn instead, it doesn’t look like it’s more than a layer or two deep on anyone.”

“I think we’re all fervently glad no one is naked, yes,” Genesis agreed. “Well, I am.”

“Given it’s all or none, that’s seconded firmly,” Lazard agreed. “We’ll get started back up shortly, I think everyone would just rather something dry to put on.“

“I’ll go see about some flashy clean up,” Genesis offered, heading back towards the ring with an idle wave.

“I’ll find reasonable clothing,” Angeal said. “Sephiroth, why don’t you just see about checking that barrier, I don’t think they need us here.”

Sephiroth glanced briefly towards the other executives, eyes lingering longer on a figure he was having an unusually hard time dismissing until they unfortunately met eyes. An arched brow from Hojo was enough to snap him out of it and he turned on his heel. Whatever he felt about it didn’t matter enough to dwell on it now. “I’ll do that.”

[Tumblr post]

Some ideas from

fflove190 for my MMO AU (Party of Five.) It's really long, so cut.

( Read more... )

PROMPT: Imagine your OTP coming across a poorly written fanfic about them. [Tumblr post]

“Oh my god.”

“Now there’s a tone I don’t usually here from you,” Zack observed, peeking out of the kitchen. “You actually sound scandalized.”

“I am scandalized,” Genesis informed him, eyes glued to his phone and wide in a mix of awe and slowly-dawning horror. “My god.”

“You can’t leave it at that,” Zack protested, grinning. “What’re you reading?”

“Someone wrote down and published a fantasy about us!” Genesis waved a hand at the phone, still not looking up. “It might be the worst thing I’ve read since I was swindled into judging an adolescent poetry contest- no, wait, I’m so sorry. This is worse. I think you have to have three or four hands at this point.”

“… I’m a mutant?” He ventured, curious. “That’d be pretty cool actually.”

“Nono, porn.” Genesis bit his lip, grinning so hard it hurt. “Oh this is terrible, they need an anatomy class, possibly followed by a good fuck or seven. Oh my god, no, spines don’t work that way….”

“So I’m guessing this isn’t a prank by somebody who knows us, then?” Zack guessed. “Not sure if that’s better or worse. ‘geal’s gonna have kittens.”

Genesis did glance up at that, laughing so hard that he ended up retaking his seat on the couch rather ungracefully.

“…. I shouldn’t ask,” Zack said slowly. It was fact, he knew this just from the unholy gleam in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“You’re going to,” Genesis said, just as sure and grinning widely.

“I’m gonna have to,” he admitted. “What’s so funny?”

“I have been dubbed your sex kitten in this,” Genesis informed him.

Zack stared at him for a long moment. “Sex kitten?”

“Sex kitten.”

“Sex kitten.” Zack snorted. “And, uh, ‘you’ like that?”

“I meow for you.” Genesis bit his fist a moment against the clear urge to laugh, bouncing his leg. “There’s costuming to make Reeve Tuesti proud.”

“Okay, if that’s a thing with him, I don’t actually want to know,” Zack warned, pointing at him when he started laughing again. “You stop that. ‘Sex kitten’ - more like hell cat. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t get away with that either.”

“No, no you would not. I allow you liberties enough with my dignity.” Genesis snickered, shaking his head. “Oh this is terrible. But bless the writer and their passion, that’s a lovely thing.”

“Enabler.”

“Shamelessly.”

[Tumblr post]

Mild spoiler warning for CH3 of the Bounty Hunter storyline in SWTOR. That said, also strongly mixed with how I headcanon the event for Seran-vin and therefore not exactly the same.

Seran figured, if you asked most people who knew him, they’d say he was an easy going guy. Because he was. Sometimes his temper kicked up, but you usually had to provoke it. And any grudges he held were earned, like the mess with Blood early on.

Or this thing Jun Seros was pulling. He was damn lucky Seran wasn’t the sort to generalize, because he really could turn a man completely against the Jedi with this. There were good ones out there, ones who weren’t hypocrites, ones he respected, though. And that was why he had his comm out while Torian and Mako were plotting the path through the war zone that was Corellia, placing a call.

“Gen-ji’al.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Ji’al reminded him. There was no sounds of battle, so it was probably a decent enough time to call. “What do you want, hunter?”

“Jun Seros is hiding in your people’s enclave on Corellia.” There was no point mincing words. “I’m coming for him. Get the kids out of the way.”

“Frakking– are you kidding me?” There were some impressive snatches of Huttese as he was away from his comm for a moment. “You’re serious. He’s… nevermind. How much time do I have?”

“Mako, eta?” Seran prompted.

“At least fifteen minutes, no more than twenty,” she reported. “If we move now.”

“Good. You hear her?” Seran asked.

“I did. Just… frakking hells, Seran, I could have used more warning!” Ji’al protested.

“Any more time an’ your council could hold you responsible for not stoppin’ me,” Seran pointed out, smiling at the sharp breath on the other end. “Seems I gotta look out for all of you kids. Didn’t think of that, didja?”

“I’d do it anyway,” Ji’al insisted. “But… thank you. I’ll talk to my father, see what we can do. Be careful, he’s a battlemaster.”

“He’s a dead man walking, Carmine.” Seran smiled grimly. “Just doesn’t know it yet. And he knows I’m coming, I’m sure. He’s a liar an’ an coward, but he doesn’t seem like a complete idiot.”

“I’m pretty sure I should be offended or something,” the Jedi muttered. “Look, just… I’ll do it. Just be safe. I have a feeling if something happens to you, your ‘kids’ won’t be near so kind.”

Seran laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, they wouldn’t. But they’ve got their own problems. Just me an’ my crew this time.”

“More than enough, with your record.” Ji’al was silent a long moment. “From what I’ve heard, he’s earned this. Force be with you, Seran-vin. I’ll handle things here and be long gone by the time you arrive.”

Seran snorted, but didn’t refuse the words. “Thanks, kid.”

It was time to finish it.

[Tumblr post] At the top of the post is a grocery list I will attempt to recreate using text, written between two people, one with lovely, neat black handwriting and one in blocky red sharpie.

GROCERY LIST
- ETHERNET CABLES
- BISCUITS
~~- dry ice~~ NO
~~- kerosene~~ NO
- nondairy creamer MAYBE
- duct tape MAYBE
- Mentos > NOT AT THE SAME TIME
- Diet Coke > NOT AT THE SAME TIME
~~- PVC pipe~~ NO
~~- cannon balls~~ DEFINITELY NO
~~- entire cow (pre-slaughtered if possible)~~ WE DON'T HAVE A BIG ENOUGH FREEZER
- many, many candles YOU CAN HAVE FOUR
~~- copper wire~~ NO
~~- chainsaw~~ ABSOLUTELY NOT
~~- blowtorch~~ NEVER
~~- series 1-12 of Mythbusters~~ THAT IS THE WORST IDEA

PROMPT: who in your OTP made the grocery list and who did the writing in red

vorpalgirl suggested a number of people, and I chose Valenwind.

“…the fuck is this?”

Vincent shifted on the couch, tipping his head to the side to get a look at his partner, because that was terribly vague even for Cid. He resisted the urge to smile, seeing the list. “You asked me to start a grocery list.”

“Yeah, so the fuck is this?” Cid repeated, waving it at him. “You don’t even use nondairy creamer.”

The fact that that was his first question finally made him crack, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I’m feeling adventurous.”

“No shit, I figured that out pretty quick. You tryin’a summon a demon or somethin?” He squinted at the list, scowling.

“I rather like being the scariest thing in the house, thank you, and I try not to encourage Chaos’ posturing.” There was a mental grumble at that, but his resident Weapon was far too amused at Cid’s expression to really protest. “Would it have helped if I added tea?”

“No, it would not. You’re not gettin’ half of this shit,” Cid informed him, rereading it. “No. Just… no, Vince. Goddamn, you’re such a little shit. I don’t know how I ever thought you were dignified.”

“I’m highly dignified,” he protested, a hint of laughter in his voice. “These are not mutually exclusive traits.”

“Uh huh. Trouble,” Cid said, huffing. “The hell do you even want an entire fucking cow for? You only eat when you spend energy, the hell are you up to?”

“While I was not initially contemplating summoning a demon, I admit I’m highly entertained by the thought that you apparently jumped to thinking I was. But there are no sacrifices being made,” Vincent said. “I just want to try some things.”

“Yeah well if you do it’s not gonna be cause I helped, I’m tellin’ ya that now,” Cid said, marking up the list. “Whoever pissed you off can just have some traditional spookin’ ‘cause I’m not doin’ this. No. An’ you stay outta my hangar, if I see somethin’ missin’ I’ll get you.”

“I’d never,” Vincent said, smirking. “It’s not terribly time sensitive. I can wait. I excel at the long game.”

“Yeah you do, brat.” Cid shook his head, folding it up and stuffing it in his back pocket. “I’m gonna go my damn self. Try not t’ start shit, an’ if you have t’ start shit, start it away from here, alright? Gods save me from Turks, I swear…”

[Tumblr post] There was a picture going around Tumblr with a card that says "FUCK" in big letters, and underneath it has a series of checkboxes for just what, exactly, you want to complete that phrase with.

vorpalgirl informed me that it would surely be in Cid Highwind's possession.

“You know, Chief, this wouldn’t be a problem if you took a little more care of yourself,” Vincent mused, watching the captain with the sort of amusement that only came from knowing that there wouldn’t be an immediate tongue lashing for his comment.

Granted, that was because Cid couldn’t. The captain sat in his chair, tucked in with a positively mulish expression and sipping his tea slowly. He’d been drinking it even more than usual, attempting to soothe the ache of laryngitis - not, however, any infection; he’d done it himself hollering at some new crew members over the past week.

“The irony of me saying so, I realize, is something you’d normally comment on. And the irony of me carrying the conversation has not gone unnoticed,” Vincent admitted, seeing a fleeting smirk touch Cid’s lips. He arched a brow as something was offered to him, a small card - a business card? Or no…

It said, perhaps predictably in all bold capitals: FUCK. One of the boxes was checked: “you” - and it made him laugh. “Maybe later, chief. Let you rest some first, hm?”

Cid scowled and presented him with another FUCK card, selecting “this” for his clarification.

Vincent shook his head. “Drink your tea, chief.”

[Tumblr post]

deludedillusions had been talking about a Pokemon/FF7 fusion, and these were my thoughts:

SO first off, type affinities! I think that, while you probably do get some grab-bag trainers who have all sorts of types, you have to look at things more realistically and say “if you are literally taking care of these animals, how feasible is it to be taking care of a bunch of different types?” I think it’s most realistic to have one type, or complimentary types (Grass/Ground/Rock/Steel, Electric/Fire, Psychic/Dark/Ghost/Fairy, etc) so you have the specific supplies needed on hand. It’s certainly most cost effective.

Alternatively, you’re allowed to branch out as you gain ranks. I know you also mentioned SOLDIERs having full teams from Third Class on, but it makes more sense to me that only as the SOLDIER gets stronger would they be allowed to have fuller teams, as that is a LOT of power to be wrangling.

Also, I want to drag in a FF7-headcanon of mine that some elements just resonate better with different individuals, like casting it is easier and maybe they’re even a little resistant, etc - I see Genesis with Fire that way. So that could maybe play in, too. The context would be what sort of Pokemon they’re drawn to, who they bond with the most quickly. So to go more towards team-types, I peg Angeal for Grass/Ground/Rock/Steel, immediately, to look at his hobbies and just his personality overall. Genesis would be Fire/Electric, but if he spread out I could also see Dark and Psychic. Sephiroth would also be Psychic, and I think Water/Ice suits him well also, just for thoughts.

It’s really interesting to look at the “Evil” ShinRa, but if I had to say there was an equivalent I wouldn’t look at Team Rocket, I’d say right into Team Plasma (from Black&White) because they had the kind of head games that we’re talking about, playing the public with twisted propaganda and confusing things until people start to go their way. I’m not sure if ShinRa would try to get any non-ShinRa people to stop using Pokemon, but hey, if they’re all about controlling power… well, that’s a boatload of power. Especially assuming these are the Cetra-companions like you had laid out.

Which brings us to the Wutai War. Is this still about Mako, or is this about Legendaries living there (supposedly) or is this about HOW DARE THERE BE ANOTHER MILITARY FORCE WITH POKEMON??? Because I could see all of that, depending on the stance ShinRa is taking and whatever their party line is. It seems to me you could convince a lot more people that Pokemon are monsters/tools if they weren’t living with them/working with them constantly. Regardless, AVALANCHE would also be like… 50% about STOP THE MAKO and 50% free the Pokemon which gives another set of dynamics to play with.

Also random thought but are psychic Pokemon fitted with inhibitors or something so they can’t speak or what? Because that would be a little issue…

[Tumblr post]

Rufus Shinra back in time fix it fic.

This was originally going to be “what if Rufus and Lazard (in canon timeline) turned to each other instead of Hollander and AVALANCHE” but the more I thought about it the more I thought “young!Rufus was an amoral little shit who would probably not have cared let alone had the tact to approach his very bitter half brother successfully” so then

then

this nonsense came about where I’m like, so ok, what WOULD make Rufus do this? What would make him care enough? (And “care” is still a difficult word, because this IS Rufus Shinra we’re talking about, and even post DoC he’s not all fluff and sunshine.) But post-DoC, he’s levelled out. He’s smarter, and he has the experience to balance out his grand plans. He learned a lot of very brutal lessons. Given the chance, he’d do things differently by then. SO THEN PICTURE -

End of the world, post-DoC, the world is wrecked and there needs to be some fixing that they honestly don’t know if the Planet will even live to see. And Reeve, whimsical genius he is, does have an idea. About time travel. And there’s this argument about who should go - Cloud right? He saved the world, could totally do it again! - only Rufus of all people points out that at the point Cloud would have any idea of what to do, the worst damages are already laid to happen. That change needs to happen far sooner.

There is suggestion, admittedly, of Vincent. Vincent points out that by the point he had the power to do anything, the Jenova Project was already in motion, that the Reactors were already built. It was before the wars (Wutai, Genesis, Jenova…) but even still, it was a time of flux. Things could be steered, but not prevented. None of them are so old, and back then he really didn’t have that much influence.

None of them had that much influence, except, except-

Rufus, the heir to the company, one of the only people who really COULD have changed it around from the inside. Who was Vice President as early as Genesis’ desertion, who was old enough to start nudging things even sooner had he only known…

Yeah. This might have to be a Thing.

[Tumblr post]

there had never been a senshi of the moon, that was literally the queen
still looks literally just like Serenity
“by the power of the moon” d'you mean the silver crystal? cause there’s no MOON ELEMENT
not able to recall any memory of combat training
reliant on others to do things AS IF SERVANTS
acts significantly less mature than the others, as if she was YOUNGER or something (which Serenity was, by far)
has an immediate bond with every Senshi before they’re even revealed
prefers diplomacy over fighting ALWAYS
doesn’t learn well in a classroom setting with others, responds to a tutor well
not a combatant, and does not have elemental attacks, making up for it with scepters and a tiara (signs of royalty much?)

[Tumblr post] A couple years back

vorpalgirl and I had a Skype convo and I copied it down because it partially articulated a headcanon I'd had knocking around about Vincent's limits. So, here we go, a look at that now:

[4:31 PM] vorpalgirl: granted, Dirge claims a lot of the shit that got done to Vincent was Lu’s work, but still

[4:31:26 PM] KittenFair: well like, here’s my 2 cents

[4:31:31 PM] vorpalgirl: ooh?

[4:31:34 PM] KittenFair: Chaos was Lu’s work

[4:31:45 PM] vorpalgirl: and the rest was Hojo’s?

[4:31:45 PM] KittenFair: Galian, Gigas, and Hellmasker?

[4:31:47 PM] KittenFair: yeah

[4:31:51 PM] vorpalgirl: that makes sense

[4:31:56 PM] KittenFair: because you have two very different things going on

[4:32:05 PM] KittenFair: I mean, on the surface yes it’s “fuse beings”

[4:32:15 PM] KittenFair: depending on the origins you headcanon for the other three

[4:32:19 PM] KittenFair: but like… Hojo made a shape shifter, responding according to the natural phenomena of limit breaks

[4:33:13 PM] KittenFair: which, considering limits are reached by physical damaged sustained… he could test

[4:33:36 PM] vorpalgirl: ewwwwww

[4:33:39 PM] KittenFair: I had an interesting plunny, once, that is also partial headcanon

[4:33:46 PM] vorpalgirl: ooh?

[4:33:49 PM] KittenFair: I’m not entirely sure how it works out, mind you

[4:34:07 PM] vorpalgirl: XD that’s fine, I’m the same way for a lot of plunnies

[4:34:30 PM] KittenFair: but like… Hojo is selfish, okay? he’s really selfish and absorbed in his work

[4:34:59 PM] KittenFair: so there’s no way he spent THAT much time on Vincent, during the beginnings of Project S, without having more than his anger fueling him

[4:35:15 PM] KittenFair: there’s just no way he’d sabotage his own success with his masterpiece

[4:35:45 PM] KittenFair: it wasn’t like Vincent was a “hobby” a hell of a lot of work went into him

[4:35:51 PM] vorpalgirl: this is very true

[4:36:16 PM] KittenFair: so somewhere in that twisted headspace, Hojo had a plan - goals

( Read more... )

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, Don’t Speak - (character) has a horribly sore throat and is reduced to barely talking while they load up on hot drinks and soup to recover.

Angeal was not having the best day. Being sick happened rarely, given he was a First Class, but the nature of colds was to mutate and they had a way of getting around the enhancements now and then. The fact that this particular one had him coughing and trying to nurse a horrible sore throat was especially unfortunate, because it meant training just wasn’t going to happen. Zack had cringed outright when they’d met up, but it was for the best. He could get plenty done in office.

Of course, he hadn’t given enough thought to the fact that Zack did talk to people, as evidenced by his door swinging open and then being replaced by Genesis’ lean form, the older Banoran staring him down a long moment.

“A little wolf told me you were in-office.” There was absolutely no humor in Genesis’ voice, his lyric tenor almost flat and his eyes just as hard as he made an impatient gesture. “Up. You’re going home.”

“I need to-”

“Goddess, don’t talk,” Genesis interrupted, cringing a little at the husky whisper his friend’s voice had dropped to. “Whatever needs done, it can wait. Don’t ‘it’s just my throat’ me, you’re in pain. And I know where your pain threshold sits, you stubborn behemoth. Home. And bed. I’ll make you things. Come along.”

Angeal uncrossed his arms, frowning darkly at him and drumming his fingers on the stack of reports he had been working on with a pointed look. He wasn’t about to just leave, never mind that yes alright he was sick, it was just his throat. It wasn’t going to hurt less if he was at home, and things weren’t going to get done if he was.

Genesis rolled his eyes, muttering about how stubborn he was. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you need to get home, for heaven’s sake you could spread this to the lower enhanced. That’s the last thing anyone needs.”

That was unfair, but not untrue. Angeal sighed, rubbing his throat and seriously considering it. It wasn’t like it would take that long for his system to get rid of the virus, they never lasted more than a few days. And really, if he started coughing again… that could be a problem. Maybe being home would be the better thing to do.

Something must have told Genesis that he was getting his way, because he relaxed a little and crossed over to him. “Come on, then. Up-up.”

Angeal swatted at him, heaving himself up from his chair with a little wince at the low throb it started in his head. Alright, so maybe it was a good idea. But he wasn’t going to say that.

“I’ll make you some tea and stick a chicken in the crockpot and I’ll make soup later,” Genesis said, already making plans for what to do for him. “A little rest for once will do you wonders.”

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, Elephant in the Room - (character) is sick, but for some reason - rank, personality, etc - no one is talking about it.

“Ngkt!”

Angeal did not glance up, though his eyes got a little off his reports before he made himself look back down, recognizing the tiny sound for what it was. He didn’t have to look to know Genesis’ jaw would be so tight a muscle in it would tic, or that his nose would be scrunched uneasily at the bridge. He’d come back from a mission in the north, escort work looking around the site for a potential reactor in Modeoheim, with a telling sniffle he’d blamed on the weather.

Given how temperature-sensitive he was, that was believable to an extent. But another two days later? No. No, he knew better. Genesis was coming down with a cold and absolutely infuriated by it. Particularly because -

“h’hh… h’nxxt!”

- he couldn’t quite stop sneezing, even if he managed to keep them to quiet little things. Of course, if they were alone and Genesis was a little less tense about it, Angeal would have told him to quit stifling, that had to be doing more harm than good; right now, however, with Sephiroth in the room… that was just asking for trouble.

He felt eyes on him and looked up slowly, seeing Sephiroth giving him a rather pointed look. Because of course, while the two of them were getting along better lately, Angeal was the designated “handler” when Genesis was being difficult. And while Genesis had gotten over the worst of his… issues… with Sephiroth and his jealousy was much more tamed, it would absolutely flare up if Sephiroth called him out on being anything less than his best.

Angeal resisted a sigh and glanced at Genesis, seeing the sort of distracted, hazy look that had glazed his eyes, lips parted as if he was about to speak. Given the delicate little twitch to the end of his nose, that wasn’t at all what was about to happen. Of course, he was far too distracted to notice them both glancing at him - fortunate, because he’d have bristled - a gloved hand raising uncertainly before he ducked towards it with a sharp ‘aessh!’ sound, a pause filled with a shivering breath before a more emphatic ‘ISSH!’ escaped him. That, it seemed, finally granted him some relief for the moment, sitting back a bit in his chair with a bleary blink at the ceiling.

Again, Angeal managed to resist sighing, shaking his head at the look Sephiroth gave him. Later, when he got their spit-fire alone, he’d have a word. And maybe tonight he’d make soup. But it was just… safer, not to say anything for now.

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompt list, It’s Nothing - (character) insists they’re fine, right up until they collapse

It started with a headache, a low thrum in the back of his head that made Zack wish he wore his helmet for once. Then again, the pressure might not have been great. It felt better to press at his temples and forehead, a little, so it was hard to say.

Kunsel, ever the detail man, had been giving him sidelooks all morning. At least since he decided that squats were spending energy he just didn’t have. He had a training session with Angeal that afternoon and was going to need all the reserves he could muster. Realistically, he knew it was probably just some bug or something, his body hurt and things didn’t taste right - didn’t help that he really wasn’t hungry, he made himself eat because he knew he was supposed to, that SOLDIERs burned calories like crazy even at rest because of the mako. Fat lot of good that stuff had done him against this, but there wasn’t anything he could do but gripe.

And Zack was many things, but he was not a complainer. Not about some stupid little bug, not when he’d seen his heroes shrug off literally bleeding wounds to get a job done. He didn’t even have a mission, it was just training. Stupid headache wasn’t going to stop him, that was just ridiculous.

He met Angeal at the VR room with a smile, always glad to see him, but didn’t have much to say. It was fortunately easy to deflect his moment of concern, saying he just wanted to focus on his training. Angeal wasn’t cruel, but he was definitely a hard case when it came to training. Zack felt himself breathing hard far too quickly, but waved it off when Angeal asked. You didn’t get breaks in the field, it would be good practice, right? He wasn’t sure about the sim, though, he hadn’t thought it was generally this hot in Wutai but he could feel himself sweating. He tried to get a good breath in, blinking a few times and wiping the sweat off his face as best he could with a damp arm.

“Zack?”

Again with the questioning. It was nice Angeal was concerned and all, but he was looking worried and that was just… just ridiculous. “’m fine, Angeal. Let’s do the next… the next part.”

The world tipped a little and Zack took a half step to the side, managing a startled little ‘oh’ before everything went black.
( Read more... )

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, Insult to Injury - as if being injured wasn’t enough, (character) is getting sick too

While Cloud wasn’t by any means comfortable with the origin of his enhancements, it mostly had benefits. It boosted his strength, speed, magic and stamina - inhuman, but useful. After the mess with the Remnants, he was trying to find more ways to make that useful. A lot of it was clearing monsters, especially around Edge where his family was, but also along the pathways he was establishing as his own trade route, leaving it safe for others to begin to use as Reeve and the WRO got the economy moving again.

For a while, it had also had the benefit of making him seemingly immune to infections and illness, barring status effects and unfortunately not counting his motion sickness. After the Geostigma, though, it was like something had weakened a little. Maybe it was because he was run down too, or the lucky hit a Kalm Fang had gotten in when he’d been surrounded by a small pack. It wouldn’t have normally been a problem, but ever since Meteor had crushed the reactors there had been slow, steady leakage and radiation from them. Anything that wasn’t killed came out stronger, and it would take a little while for his healing to completely seal up the shallow slashes over his ribs and hip.

Cloud cleared his throat carefully, sipping from the canteen he kept tucked in one of Fenrir’s compartments, and sighed; it helped the uncomfortable burn that had settled there. He wasn’t sick enough to be worried, it was unlikely anything could get that deep a hold on his immune system even now, but it was inconvenient and it still hurt. His breathing wasn’t quite careful enough after, though, and his breath caught, a cough making him wince and brace his side as the movement pulled at his injury. He tensed against a second, breathing shallowly and trying to resist. The last thing anyone needed with an injury in the vicinity of their ribcage was to start coughing. So of course that was exactly the sort of thing he was dealing with. Ugh.

It calmed down after a minute and he lifted his shirt, checking to see if it had disturbed the bandages enough to merit a change. Apparently not, which was fortunate. He’d just have to be more careful until his healing kicked in. Maybe by then whatever illness was trying to creep up on him would give up, too.

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, 99.9% Immunity - (character) never gets sick, right? Wrong.

It was not, unfortunately, true that SOLDIERs never got sick. SOLDIERs rarely got sick, increasingly so the more enhanced that they were. Which of course left Sephiroth able to count the instances he’d been ill - not counting poisoning, status effects or mako boosters - on one hand, even into his early twenties. There were times where he was a little too environmentally aware, an hour or so of a vague semi-allergic sensation when he was first at particularly potent new places - Wutai, Gongaga and Mideel had all been offenders - but over all it simply wasn’t something that occurred.

And then he got close to Angeal and Genesis, who were nearly to his level and yet just far enough that they got sick, certainly more than he did. Genesis was the worse of the two, somehow not quite as physically sound as his strength would have you expect, though Angeal was the worse for pushing through it. Of course, part of that was Genesis’ vanity refusing to let people see him in such a state. It spoke well of how they’d grown together that Genesis was willing to be around him then, to be seen at less than his best and even let himself be taken care of now and then but there was just the small problem of the fact that colds could be contagious. And if there was any way he could get something, it would be from his equally-enhanced lover.

More than one sniff within a handful of minutes had gotten an arched brow from Angeal. The first sneeze - breathless and barely audible - got a tsk from Genesis, but it was a second, later the same evening, that got him a more measuring look. Genesis was in the lazy, restful part of his recovery at this point, which had the benefit of him being much less volatile than usual. So instead of saying anything right away, he crooked a finger with a little smile as Sephiroth went to him.

Then, because he was still Genesis and never could leave well-enough alone, he cupped his cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb down the bridge of Sephiroth’s nose, just light enough to make it twitch and wrinkle with the unusual sensitivity. He tsked again, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “I take it I was a little too generous.”

It was, perhaps, unexpected kindness that he did admit it was his fault that Sephiroth was in such a state, or would be in time. It wasn’t precisely something he liked to admit to himself, that wasn’t supposed to be possible,not for him, and the last thing he wanted was testing. “You were.”

“My apologies,” Genesis murmured, stroking his cheek again without the provoking touch to his nose. “I’ll be sure to be ample distraction, hm? Maybe Lazard will send you to mind me.”

“He might.” Now that they were getting along - and then some, which he knew the Director was aware of - Angeal wasn’t the only one called to deal with Genesis when he decided to raise a fuss. Of course, the fact that he often did so just to get one of them sent his way was also something Lazard was aware of, but there wasn’t much to be done with it; the man was brilliant and far too accomplished to punish much. “I wouldn’t protest.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you’re quite sensible.” Genesis hummed and stretched against him, winding a few strands of silver hair around his finger. “I doubt anyone will notice, regardless, but you let me worry about that, hmm?”

“No one would be inclined to believe it even if they did.” Sephiroth shrugged. It was fortunate, he supposed; it wasn’t like he wanted anyone noticing him weakened. Well… almost anyone. Leaning in for a kiss, he had to admit that if it softened Genesis’ edges and made him inclined to spoil him a little then it wasn’t too bad. “Planning to make it up to me?”

There was nothing even remotely innocent about the lazy, devilish smile that curved his lover’s lips. “Oh yes.”

Next >>

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompt list, Stepping Up - boss/leader (character) is clearly miserable, so the others go out of their way to take as much of their workload as possible

Veld didn’t often get sick, which was good because he didn’t exactly do sick well. Blame his years as a Turk for automatically hiding as much of that as possible - he couldn’t afford to be seen as a weak link, let alone actually be one, especially not now that he was the Director. It was the little things that usually told on him, a slight tightness around his eyes betraying pain, gravelly voice hitting an even lower note with the creeping soreness in his throat, an occasional throat clearing that wasn’t pointed at one of his troublemakers… little things, but manageable. Signs it was usually better to just leave him be, the man didn’t take to being pushed on a good day.

Seeing him outright wince on the clock was unheard of without an actual injury to blame, but that was unquestionably what both Reno and Rude had seen in their early debrief that morning when they’d crossed into his office. He didn’t let himself do more than press his fingers briefly to his temple and it didn’t so much as pause his speaking, but it was still one hell of a tell beyond what he’d normally allow. Of course, neither one of them went so far to say anything, not right then. But Reno made his way over to let Tseng know once they were dismissed. Veld wouldn’t allow anything that could be remotely construed as coddling, but there were other ways to help and the commander was just the guy to get on that.

Given he’d even been acting director when Veld was out of the city for prolonged periods of time - attending the president more often than not, though there were times he was needed in Junon - Tseng was more than familiar with the ins and outs of their department. Slowly, very carefully, he made sure that it was understood that unless it was urgently needing the director’s attention, questions could go to him instead. Reno was perfectly capable as their third to leave the office and deal with other people. Even if it was just a headache, the last thing Veld needed was to be dealing with Scarlet and Reno was more than up to sassing her back. Circumstances what they were, though, there was an edge they were all bringing their A game to; nobody would be calling back to the chief with complaints.

It said a lot that Veld didn’t call them on it, or how there were no outbursts or arguments in the office despite both Rod and Two Gun being in the office at once. Being fair, Veld was probably just grateful; come lunch there were other hints bleeding through his careful mask of stoicism, a faint flush to his cheeks and a quiet cough that wouldn’t quite be kept back. He wouldn’t breathe a word of it - and no one else planned to, he didn’t train up fools - but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing well. So they’d just soften around the edges; you couldn’t be so discreet he wouldn’t notice, Veld wasn’t that sick, but discreet enough he wouldn’t bristle. That was still a win.

[Tumblr post] PROMPT: What if Veld collapsed though? With a really high fever? Would it be mass TURK panic or would they take care of him ignoring the murderous glares and such? Though I guess they could just shove him off to the med bay.

I gave this thought, and the one thing I can say is that they would not shove him off to the med bay. Simply because Veld would not stay there. It’s one thing if it’s his Turks around, or close friends (canon and my own headcanons agree he and Reeve get on well) but just Average Joe Medical? Huh uh, no, Boss Turk has neither time nor patience for that.

So, there’s definitely going to be some panic because this is Veld and Veld is normally the definition of “has everything under control” so him collapsing? That’s the sort of thing that probably last happened… well, some point when he signed himself out of medical early, probably. Side note, I bet there were stories about the sorts of messes he and Vincent got into back in the day, and I doubt rookie!Veld was any more agreeable.

At the same time, while this newer generation doesn’t have the years of experience Veld does, they’re Turks and lack of precedent isn’t going to stop them from figuring out what to do. Honestly, Reno and Rude probably have a whole unofficial guide to managing when something happens to Tseng, so they at least have a starting point for dealing with a high ranking, incredibly stubborn, very crafty and probably cranky person with an aversion to taking it easy.

Here’s what I think would happen…

It started simple enough, a stress headache not too terribly unusual given the workload that the President was laying on their department; between being the head of the Turks leading the Turks, and also the head of the Department of Administrative Research and therefore a board member, Veld had more than enough on his plate. And then there was AVALANCHE, and the tail end of the war as it was wrapping up, nasty business he was all too glad to leave to Deusericus and his SOLDIERs for the most part.

He almost didn’t notice the shift of pressure in his head, but he definitely noticed the scratchy irritation starting in his throat. He’d never been too prone to getting sick, but after the hours breathing in hot ash and smoke during the bombing, Veld had found that he was a little more susceptible to respiratory things. Nothing he could power through so simple as a head cold, no this sort of thing headed for his throat and even for his lungs if he wasn’t careful. Unfortunately, though, ‘careful’ was a fine line to walk - he had far too much work to do on any given day to just take off a couple days for anything short of an emergency. And really, being sick didn’t get anywhere near counting. That was just inconvenient. It would go away eventually, and he didn’t have time or patience to deal with it beyond taking something to head off the cough. His voice was a little deeper with it by the second day, but that did seem to make him getting across how very done he was with Heidegger and the army happen much faster during a meeting later so small mercies.

Third day in, and a fever joined the party. Fantastic. Nothing to do for it but go about his day. He’d caught a couple glances between the others but a quick look headed off anyone saying anything. There was just too much going on to bother with it. He was doing his level best not to snap at anyone, but that was definitely helped by people keeping their noses out of it and doing their jobs. Especially when things went pear shaped, and there wasn’t time to stop and think about how he felt, dealing with fallout from another AVALANCHE attack where damage calculations were on a constant rise and hours blurred together trying to get a handle on it. He was just going to get something from the files, moving away from the monitors, when his vision began to cut in tellingly and he grabbed at the desk hard enough that the side under his prosthetic creaked in strain. Vaguely he heard someone say his name, and then there was nothing.

( Read more... )

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, Not a Word - (character) said they don’t get sick, and isn’t in the mood for anyone to remind them while they recover; takes place after 99.9% Immunity

Genesis and Angeal had come through for Sephiroth on the whole, the first of which putting out full-on diva persona to draw attention and generally being a pain in the ass. Normally an annoyance, it was as much a relief as Angeal being the one handling things in a more official, face-of-SOLDIER capacity, as they were both keeping him out of view of anyone who might notice his compromised condition. It wasn’t terrible, exactly, but he was unfortunately rather aware of the same hyper-sensitivities that were so normal to Genesis, leaving him unfortunately inclined to sniff and clear his throat. Which was something he could keep quiet, it wasn’t nearly so bad as the temptation after a while to sneeze, throat getting irritated towards a cough.

Instead of staying at headquarters where he might be called in to deal with people, he spent the day taking a rather mundane mission to clean out some monsters that were coming in closer around the chocobo ranch - ShinRa was rather invested in the breeders there, to help with their own small stable that the Chocobo Scouts used. He rode his own black out, the bird increasingly neglected as he was caught up in things around Midgar, no longer free to run such wide stretches as he had in Wutai; it felt good to ride again but he was feeling rather run down when he came back and spent a little while in the stables getting himself more composed. Having thought he was alone, he’d given in, sneezing twice with a single quiet cough and sighing in irritation. At least this would pass s-

“Bless you, sir?”

Sephiroth stiffened, green eyes narrowing as they swept the stable and landed on a single trooper. Irritated and perhaps slightly embarrassed, he went to say something only to have to duck away with only a brief, sharp tingle to warn of a third oncoming sneeze. Sniffing a single time, he fixed the smaller man with a dark glare. “Not another word.”

Even with most of his face masked by his helmet, it was clear that he’d gone drastically pale. Satisfied that he’d made an impression and that nothing would be said even once he was gone, Sephiroth swept inside to head back to his apartment. Thankfully this would pass soon.

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, Medic Down - every group seems to have a primary caretaker. How do they handle it when (character) is the one sick? (AGSZ set sometime after Zack makes First)

Generally speaking, if Angeal got sick he’d caught it from one of his lovers, but this one was a surprise. He’d woken up feeling off and it had mounted through the day into a quiet cough and the tingling urge to sneeze, which he generally tried to put off as long as he could - those didn’t quiet quite so nicely, and if they were forced to, it just made him want to sneeze again.

Sephiroth noticed first, though he wasn’t certain - they shared morning coffee together, the first ones out of the apartment - and the fact that Angeal was moving a little slower than usual was notable. It made a curl of worry start, but he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on and he didn’t want to push. Angeal seemed in a good enough mood, just… tired, perhaps.

Genesis, with years of familiarity, noticed as soon as he stole into his office to sneak a few muffins for his own belated breakfast, coming in late as per usual. It was clear in the slight wrinkle of his nose and the way he cleared his throat, and the redhead reflexively toned down his antics. As soon as he left, he called Zack with a warning.

Zack wore his emotions on his sleeve, always had, and was a little wary of training with Angeal if he really was getting sick. But the older First gave him that frown for suggesting otherwise, the same one that had always pulled him back into line when he’d been his student, and he gave in. Thank god he was quicker on his feet, though, when Angeal’s breath caught after a swift kick and he turned away, coughing hard against his arm. His breathless apology was met with a little flailing and Zack all but begging him to end the simulation. A little embarrassed, he agreed to it and headed back to his office.

Zack called Genesis back immediately, apologizing that he’d ever even agreed to it - Genesis assured him that no, he knew how Angeal got and Zack didn’t have near so much practice telling him not to be an idiot - and they agreed that perhaps a gentler touch was needed. Not that Sephiroth had more finesse than Genesis, exactly, but his hesitance in the role of caretaker tended to bring out a softer side in Angeal that would be perfect.

Sephiroth decided to handle it by bringing Angeal lunch - tea and soup from a Wutai place they’d frequented - accompanied by a careful smile that earned him access, even though Angeal gave him a rueful one back. “Did the others send you?”

“Somewhat,” he admitted, settling into one of the other chairs to eat his own. “They’re worried.”

“It’s not too bad.” Of course, the steam from drink and soup alike had set him sniffing softly and Angeal grimaced, grabbing up a napkin and turning aside for a quick, sharp sneeze that didn’t muffle well and made him shake his head a little. The arched brow he was treated to made him chuckle. “Really, it’s not. Just sensi-iih… HISSHHU! Snf. Ngh, sorry. But I mean it, it’s really not that bad.”

“… bless you?” Sephiroth ventured, the phrase not coming near so naturally as it did to Genesis or even Zack. It earned a small, warm smile though, and that made it worth it. “It couldn’t hurt to take work home instead, could it? You’d still get things done, and be more… relaxed?”

“Here I thought I was forbidden to bring work home.” Still, Angeal’s smile was teasing. “I might. But it’s an easy day, I’m not worried. Promise, I wouldn’t even make one of you go home for this.”

“Hn, as you say.” Unfortunately, he really wasn’t a particularly good judge of illness. It just wasn’t something he had much experience with. “Try to keep it to an easy day?”

“I’ll do my best,” Angeal promised. “SOLDIER’s honor.”

Well, it really didn’t get better than a promise on Angeal’s honor. Satisfied for the moment, Sephiroth nodded. He’d still see about what plans could be made to help him relax when he got home, though.

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, With Kid Gloves On - it’s a known fact that (character) has trouble accepting help, even when they’re sick; the others have learned specific “acceptable” methods over time

It said a lot, Tseng thought, that it was legitimately easier to deal with the aftermath of the time they’d been caught in an explosion than Veld getting sick. Something about the fact that it was ‘just a bug’ apparently did the equivalent of a mental sign off that everything was supposed to be business as usual. Which was more than a little frustrating, because Veld wouldn’t hesitate to call them out or send them home, if something got past a certain point. And it wasn’t something you could just discuss, he wasn’t about to put up with that. If there was going to be any hope of helping him at all, it had to be subtle. And, perhaps, aimed in a way that even if everybody there knew what was going on, to not go along with it would require Veld saying something. Because his entire career training under the director said that unless things were dire, Veld wasn’t going to say a thing.

There was the benefit, at least, of the fact that the department was rather united in the strange position of needing to keep an eye on him, however. Veld had more than their loyalty, there was a measure of affection as well, and either would demand making sure he didn’t run himself too ragged.

So when paperwork was delegated a bit more thoroughly than usual, there weren’t complaints. There was a definite, notable absence of yelling and scuffling in the office, things kept relatively quiet and absolutely professional. In the field, Reno and Rude were the definitive team these days, but in the office it was Reno and Tseng and they interacted seamlessly to keep the others managed. The goal, of course, was to keep things as dialed down as possible.

And there was, of course, absolutely no doubt that Veld knew the cause of the difference. But there was pain in the lines around his eyes, and strain in his throat that would appreciate not having to talk much. It was the kind of sore throat that just hurt to listen to, so Tseng was happy to help with that as much as he could. And tucked away in his office, out of constant sight, he knew that the Director was much more likely to cut himself a little slack. It wasn’t much - didn’t feel like nearly enough - but it helped. For now, that would do.

[Tumblr post] From the Sickfic Prompts list, No Rest for the Wicked - the big bad (character) has more to worry about than the good guys

In Hojo’s experience, there was never a good time to be sick. In was inconvenient, occasionally messy, and it made him even more impatient than usual. The lab technicians made themselves scarce or were walking on eggshells, and he all but threw Hollander out before dealing with any of his nonsense. His head was thumping, chest tight and threatening the kind of coughing that forbade working around anything but papers. Not that office work was bad, precisely, but he rather enjoyed a more hands-on approach and being active.

Not today. Not with this nasty little rhinovirus clogging his airways. There was a board meeting as well, and he simply opted out of it. If someone wanted him that badly, they could damn well come themselves; he didn’t feel like dealing with the fuss of it all. Honestly at this point, going back to his apartment was starting to sound unusually appealing.

So of course, someone would come. The quiet tap of dress shoes was deliberate, a Turk making sure he was heard, and Hojo gave Veld a watery glare over the rim of his glasses. “What?”

He got an arched brow and the faintest twitch of lips, emotion there and gone before it could be read with how practiced the Turk Director’s restraint had gotten. “Files from the meeting. You look like hell.”

“I very seriously doubt you care,” Hojo snipped, watching him set the file down with a look of utter disdain.

“I don’t. But you out of commission makes me more work than you doing your job,” Veld said smoothly, shrugging. Things hadn’t been the same between them since Valentine’s untimely death; the fallout after Kalm’s bombing had merely widened the gulf. “I’d rather not pile it on.”

“Far be it from me to inconvenience you, Faraman.” Hojo cleared his throat, chest clenching a moment against a cough and glaring all the more when the second brow joined the first. “Was there something you needed? I have work to do.”

Veld appeared to consider it a moment, lips pressed tight. Something in his tone softened just a touch in a way neither man would acknowledge. “Get some rest, Hojo.”

For once, Hojo looked away first, quiet. “Departments don’t run themselves. I’m sure you have your own business to attend.”

Veld made a quiet, noncommittal sound. There was nothing else to say, and he saw himself out.

Hojo certainly didn’t think of the look he’d been given again. He wasn’t that sick.

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ladykf

December 2018

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Star Wars prompt fill: Don't Do It, Kid
KOTOR prompt fill: anything with dragons
Star Wars: Timeline Calculations
SWTOR prompt fill: Lived Long Enough to Become a Villain (Seran-vin)
SWTOR prompt fill: So tired everything's funny
SWTOR ficlet: I'm Starting to Dislike Sith Politics
SWTOR ficlet: I do not allow the Sith to dictate my life
SWTOR ficlet: Reflections on Saare
FF7 Prompt Fill: Laughing in the dark
Prompt Fill: Hold the door for your date
SWTOR prompt fill: There's a dead body on my floor
FF7 Character Assessment: Hojo
FF7 Headcanon: Where Zack was during ACC
FF7 Scene Analysis: Passing on the Buster Sword
FF7 Headcanon: Terror of the Tower
FF7 Headcanon: In Sickness and in Health
SWTOR ficlet: Strange Bedfellows
SWTOR ficlet: Blood Red Blades
SWTOR ficlet: Before
Star Wars Meta: My Issues with canon!Revan, pt 1/?
10 NaNoWriMo tips!
FF7 Headcanon: Genesis and Fire
FF7 Prompt Fill: That's not supposed to be on fire
Sailor Moon meets FF7, pt 1
SWTOR prompt fill: Who expected a cave in?
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FF7 OCs
FF7 Meta: Materia Growth
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FF7 Prompt Fill: Not a Word (Sephiroth)
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