cocotokii

[cocotokii]

Who loved Sephiroth the most in his life?

That's impossible to say because each and every one of his loved ones/connections comes with a BUT.

Glenn: Cared about Sephiroth's wellbeing and autonomy as a person BUT also did him a lot of emotional harm in rejecting him and throwing away Lucrecia's locket.

Hojo: Wanted his son to succeed and was completely obsessed with him BUT never treated him like a person and only ever abused and dehumanized him.

Angeal: Presumably helped Sephiroth learn to trust and value friendship again BUT also abandons him when he needed him most.

Genesis: Admired Sephiroth and wanted to be his equal BUT emotionally sabotaged him during a vulnerable episode.

Zack: Had all the right equipment personality-wise to prove himself as a loyal friend BUT didn't get close enough before it was too late.

Lucrecia: Wanted to be in her child's life BUT was too emotionally cornered and full of regret to the point of instability.

Jenova: Probably doesn't love Sephiroth at all tbh, assuming she's sentient.

And so on. I think the sad truth is that Sephiroth really never had someone who loved him with complete iron-clad unconditional devotion. He was never anyone's priority, at least not Sephiroth the MAN, the human. Lots of it is the result of external factors, or the narrative weaving a tragedy outside of their control. But it still stands.

Sephiroth was alone.

[cocotokii]

Idk what Genesis is complaining about. Ever since his pregnancy both Angeal and Sephiroth have been looking VERY puffed up, swaggering around all proud of themselves. Embrace this gift, Genesis. Your husbands certainly are.

(but don't let Sephiroth name the baby because otherwise you're getting a kid named Jenova 2 or Murderbox 64 or something)

It's a good thing genesis will handle the embarrassment of this misunderstanding perfectly normally! (Lazard... will have to file a LOT of incident reports this day. And even more paid medical leave requests)

[cocotokii]

HERES MY DOODLES W OUT MY RAMBLES HEHE

[cocotokii]

Miniroth finally meeting his mother but he's so shy and nervous that he can't even look her in the eyes. He knows that whatever he says will probably just be something stupid. And he so badly wants her to like him. So he just turns pink and stares at the floor, standing there there timidly shuffling his feet. 😭

[cocotokii]

W.I.P/ He was made for this >:)

[cocotokii]

You draw Sephi’s skin so tender. Beautiful work.

THANK YOU SM!! 🫶🩷🩷 That's exactly how I want to portray it :') I hope to get even better at it~

[cocotokii]

your sephiroth makes me blush 🥰

Hhhh thank you, anon! 😭 Seeing this made me blush as well 👉👈💕💕

[cocotokii]

A lil doodle, I’m very obsessed with his nape 🧍‍♂️

[cocotokii]

I love a man who needs to be put in a mental ward but looks angelic being insane

[cocotokii]

So I got diagnosed with PTSD and whenever there’s a problem in my life, my immediate urge is to project it onto my favorite characters. Now, that being said, assuming that they DO have PTSD from the war and other traumas, do AGZSC have flashbacks, and if they do, what do they look like?

I hope I did this concept justice 💚 wishing you well

• Genesis’ PTSD, years after he's been doused with a cure, begins with the itch beneath his skin. No matter how hard he scrubs, no matter how dry the scarring is, he feels it raw and sticky beneath the hot leather. He can feel the burning in his muscle, resurfacing to his skin like it’s breaking apart, like it’s rotting again. The smell of decay, of something foul and wrong, floods his senses even though the air is clean. His hands tremble, fingers tracing invisible cracks on his face, terrified they’ll split open. The fear of the degradation gnaws at him constantly, fearing that the goddess revoked her gift, fearing that one day he'll start degrading all over again.

• Sephiroth’s PTSD smells like antiseptic, that sharp, clean scent that coats the inside of his nose, no matter where he is, no matter how hard he fills his environment with lavender, vanilla and other desperate attempts to stifle the phantom horror. He can smell it everywhere he goes, and initially believed his mind was failing him.

He can be working in his office or peacefully reading a book in his bedroom when the hum of lab equipment buzzes in his ear, faint but clear. Sometimes it's the dull click of needles being prepared, and Sephiroth flinches.

He can be laying in bed when the familiar feel of restraints scratches his wrist, phantom sensations that won't let him rest.

• Cloud’s PTSD is heat—scalding, unbearable heat. The fire burns it's brightest when he's overheated, roaring in his ears, licking at his skin, smoke filling his lungs as the villagers' screams overtake his hearing.

He smells the burning wood, the burning flesh, his mother’s voice lost somewhere in the flames that swallow everything in its wake.

And then he sees him, accompanied by a crack of green pulling his consciousness back to the moment he saw that Sephiroth for the first time—not Sephiroth the hero, but Sephiroth the embodiment of everything Cloud would lose.

• Zack’s PTSD is the weight of Angeal’s sword in his hand he feels in the weeks following his mentor's death. It's the body he doesn't want to be in, the flesh that grips the bones Angeal should have broken when he killed him, not the other way around. When when the sword is clung to his back, he can feel the weight of it in his hands, dragging him down, forcing him to press his knees to the dirty ground again and face Angeal's dying body.

• Angeal’s PTSD wakes him up in the middle of the night and pins his eyes open with memories that won't sleep. His apartment is always silent, just like he remembered the house was that night—oh the trivial details the mind picks up. But it always starts with the silence before the screams hit. He can hear his mother's cries, raw and desperate, tear through the quiet. His mother’s wails are like a knife dragging across his chest. He feels the emptiness of that house, the coldness of the room after the life has drained from it. His father had just passed, and once again, just like when he was a boy, Angeal is suffocated beneath his blanket, eyes wide open.

[cocotokii]

Sephgeal cuddles

Sephiroth is not a very cuddly person, at least not in public. He was taught that a good and proper soldier doesn't get all moon-eyed and touchy feely with his comrades.

How surprised he is when he finds himself melting in Angeal's strong arms, so secure and warm and safe that he could just curl up and disintegrate on the spot. Angeal always knows how to hold him in a way that makes him feel protected and loved. He soaks up the praise like a sponge, leaning into Angeal's touch like a greedy house cat. It's a strange sensation for him. To love and be loved. He wants more, though he's not sure how to ask for it beyond a few awkward nuzzles. Angeal just seems to understand on reflex, giving him what he wants, taking his time.

Neither ever has to say a word, never expressing their emotions, never talking. It's simply a natural rhythm, a special, secret link shared between them. All Sephiroth knows is that he could get quite used to it. Never stopping. Never pulling away.

Angeal laughs at the aggressive vibrations emanating from Sephiroth's throat, ruffling his silver hair. He rolls his eyes, leans back, and pulls him closer.

[cocotokii]

Sephiroth

[cocotokii]

🎃 zack and seph perchance?

You got it!!! Thx so much for the prompt!! <33

~

When Sephiroth walked into the office that morning, he had half a mind to think that it was the wrong one.

Approximately thirty different plastic pumpkins were scattered throughout the room, their scale-scintillating colors varying from the standard orange to obnoxiously bright pink with green stems; bats and spiders and other stereotypical creatures were strung cheesily from the light fixtures, their dangling threads intertwining and knotting and contrasting against the bright orange streamers racing from one end of the ceiling to the other; thick, gluey webs clung to the windows and desks, translucent and loosely built, stray and sticky threads shedding onto their floor like falling feathers, making a mess...

And in the heart of it all, stood Zack, plastering the last of the decor along the window.

...

“Zack.”

Zack whipped around at his name, flashing a luminous smile. “Oh! Hey, bud! Whadya think...?!”

Sephiroth scanned the array of decorations, his frown sinking six more feet. “...I think I’m in a bad dream.”

“What?” Zack smirked mischievously. “It’s too much?”

“Too much...?!” Sephiroth parroted, eyeing the computer mouse that had been decorated to resemble an actual mouse. “I don’t think any of this is necessary.”

“Huh? What are ya talking about!” Zack exclaimed. “It’s almost Halloween!”

“And?”

“What? You’re telling me you’ve never decorated for Halloween before...?”

A few images popped into Sephiroth’s head then—flashes of planting scarecrows outside his quarters, carving pumpkins with theatrical faces, baking the seeds afterwards...

But those memories were gone.

Long gone.

And soon, so would these pesky reminders.

Sephiroth shook his head, the emerald eyes frosting over, turning his attention back toward the doe-eyed SOLDIER with an authoritative scowl.

“You are to remove all these embellishments at once.”

Zack frowned. “Aww, Seph...”

“That’s an order.”

Wounded, Zack dipped his head in defeat. “Alright, alright...”

Sephiroth didn’t wait for any further protests as he made his way over to the desk, seating himself in the familiar leather, pleased to hear the comforting sound of the webs being peeled off the windows panes. Hmph. Good... There was no need to engage in such childish affairs. The General’s office was a place meant for stern, objective facts—an air of professionalism that should be reflected regardless of which seasonal holiday may occur. There was simply no room for juvenile games, no space for webs and mice and ghosts... Ghosts were dead. Gone. Memories. There was no reviving them, no bringing them back. A closed book. A finished chapter, punctuated with permanence. The past was the past... and that was a cold, objective fact.

His eyes fixed on the folder before him, Sephiroth reached into his pen drawer, fishing around for a proper writing implement to begin his paper. Strange, really... how he had seemingly forgetter to leave one his desk, now forced to rummage through staplers and tape and clips and...—

...

...Paper?

His frown deepening, Sephiroth let his fingers rest of the alien object, examining it with the utmost puzzlement and curiosity. Paper... yes. That was certainly what it felt like. Thick paper... hard paper. Smooth paper. Paper that was encasing something, enveloping it... As it if were a...

Confused, Sephiroth peeled his gaze away from the folder, glancing down into the drawer...

...

And his heart twisted 360 degrees in his chest.

What sat in his drawer was none other than a candy bar—a chocolate bar... His favorite brand, too. But it didn’t end there; strung to the glistening gold wrapper was a small index card—a note... And scrawled only with a handwriting so illegibly familiar that it made Sephiroth’s chest nearly tear asunder.

Growing numb, Sephiroth gingerly extracted the candy bar, bringing the dangling note before his eyes.

He read it.

Happy early Halloween, old pal! I know you’re not a big person on celebrating, so just leave the decorating to me! All you have to do is enjoy!! No tricks, only treats! Angeal once told me these were your favorite.

I’ll always be here, Seph. On the good days and the bad. I love you so much.

- Zack

...

By the time he was done reading, the numbness had completely taken over, and he found himself idly tracing his thumb over the loving lace of letters. Over and over again, he did... Tracing, reading, musing, remembering...

The man had to blink a few times, though he wasn’t certain why.

Merry Christmas, Sir...! I know it’s not the besssstt wrapping... but I wanted to get you a little something anyway!! 

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you...! Happy birthday, dear Seephiiroth!~ Happy birthday to you! Woooo! Now blow out the candles!! 

Okay okay okay... I know Valentine’s Day is usually reserved for lovers in all that jazz... so I’m introducing Palentines Day...! A day to celebrate all my favorite pals in the world! ...And you best know who’s on that list! 

Oh man... you should have seen your face; too precious!! ...April Fools, bud! I hope that gave you a good laugh! You know how amazing it is when you smile.

...

Sephiroth’s grip tightened on the paper, cupping it preciously in his hands.

“Zack...?”

Zack turned around, just about done with removing the spider web. “Yeah, pal?”

“Please... keep the decorations.”

[cocotokii]

can i be brutally honest. ur sephiroth is soooo pretty i need to see him tied up and used. wait who said that. luv u amazing sephi artist 🥰

Awwh thank u so much!! 😭🫶💕💕💕 This made me so giddy hdjfjf. Also I have been thinking about drawing him like that hehe, it's just a matter of when I'll get to it <:D

[cocotokii]

TW: Disturbing Imagery!! ⚠️⚠️

also ignore the stupid huge ass flipaclip logo 😭😭😭

[cocotokii]

then they ate me, and then they ate me. And they thought I was tasty.

[cocotokii]

IN TANDEM WITH LAST POST; MUST COUNTERVAIL WITH FLOOF

~

Zack, following Modeoheim, growing dangerously bitter at Sephiroth for not bearing any scars. He can’t stand to look at him anymore, to stare at the pristine and untainted terrain of skin… Gaia. He doesn’t have a single scar. Not one. Not one. Why does he always have to carry the burdens? Why does he always have to clean everything up? Why… why… WHY—?

And he loses it one day, when Sephiroth comes to check on him in the training room, continuing to ask if everything is alright.

And he punches him.

Fist bloody; the warrior’s nose crumpled; blue eyes ablaze with hate… and envy.

And Sephiroth stares back, clutching his reddened face, his own eyes narrowing to serrated slits.

And he glares at him…

But doesn’t say a word.

And in moments, the man is gone, storming out of the gym doors without a single utterance or scold.

And Zack is left there.

Stewing; panting; staring; thinking; contemplating…

…Regretting.

Zack has always been one to succumb easily to guilt, and so it’s only hours later that he finds himself standing in front of Sephiroth’s office, his expression pained, knocking on the door with such delicate raps that one might think it’s made of glass. Will Sephiroth even forgive him…? Will he ever want to see him again…? Will he—?

After five unanswered knocks, Zack decides to enter anyway.

Sephiroth has a bandage on his nose as he glances up from his paperwork, green eyes bladed against the office’s professional light, scanning the aching First up and down with scrutinizing light.

He opens his mouth to speak, to—

But Zack’s apology comes quicker.

He confesses all his feelings, letting them cascade out of him, admitting all his plaguing emotions and envy toward Sephiroth’s scarless skin. He says he doesn’t want to carry these burdens anymore; he says that he can’t take it; he says it’s brutal, uncontrollable, painful…

…And he says that he can’t stand feeling so utterly Alone anymore.

Cold air; words looming; Sephiroth’s mouth remaining ajar as, still struck silent by Zack’s heartfelt confession, now contemplates an appropriate response to give.

And he thinks.

And he thinks.

And he thinks…—

But no words come out.

Instead, Zack watches with a meld of awe and disbelief as Sephiroth, never letting his softened gaze leave the teen’s, begins to roll up his sleeve, rolling and rolling and rolling and—

Zack’s eyes widen, the temperature around him seeming to drop….

And he stares.

And he stares even longer.

And his eyes begin to glisten; hazy, confused, shocked…

…Because there, branching along Sephiroth’s wrist, hidden under the blackness of his coat but very much real, was a scar.

A scar from the training room.

From the day he lost Genesis.

From the day a piece of metal went into his skin, but didn’t cut him severely enough to warrant concern, leaving Genesis to endure the more serious wound.

From the day he was left wondering Why Couldn’t It Have Been Him.

More silence; raw and beating silence; heavy, humid, but warm silence…

And Zack pulls Sephiroth into a hug, the man now anguished and dim, and tells him what he always wanted to hear himself, the four medicinal words somehow just as healing when they are directed toward someone else.

“It wasn’t your fault.”