#{ Turk Verse }

[the-blackest-spider]

A Little Deception Never Hurt Anyone

@poeticphoenix

None of this was her scene. At all. But she had a purpose, well two. She had to keep an eye on the infamous Crimson Commander as he represented Shinra and was Master of Ceremonies at the Spring Chocobo Derby, and she had to do her typical line of work for the company besides. There were other turks a part of the, for lack of a better term entourage, five including herself. She was taking point, as ordered for the whole week long celebration with various events which had kicked off with a grand parade, that she was still picking confetti out of her hair from, and between that and the end big event, which was the race there would be fights in the Battle Square, various parties and the qualifying races.

It wasn't that she disliked Genesis, she had started to consider him a friend, but they were, in quite a few ways opposites. She preferred the shadows and he, the limelight. Which honestly did make him perfect for this.

Of course, Shinra was sparing no expense for their part of the show. They had sequestered the fanciest suite of the best hotel at The Gold Saucer, and luckily two separate bedrooms (thank the Life Stream because she's read THAT trope in books). The rooms on either side of the suite would be the accommodations for the other parts of Rhaposdos's security detail. Natasha herself had been given two sets of strict instructions, to keep an eye on the SOLDIER First Class, and to do some investigating into a reliable source's intel that someone had made a deal to transfer large amounts of profits to Wutai to help fund their opposition.

Once she had searched the suite from top to bottom, and placed security devices of her own in strategic locations, she gestured for the bellhops to bring in everything and gave the go ahead to the other turks to get settled in their rooms.

For reasons, obvious to Natasha herself at least, she carried her own bags in and took the smaller of the two rooms, closing the door behind her to check over the gear she had, before unpacking other things. First, she'd run some reconnaissance, get a lay of the land so to speak, and then she'd go from there.

It was nothing for a turk to be patrolling during big events, so she didn't have to alter her appearance or attire for now, but she came prepared anyways.

Satisfied with the state of things for now in her room and the suite over all, well the other room was Genesis's business and he could do as he pleased, Natasha wandered out to the sitting area and moved towards the door.

"I'm going out, try to behave. I'll be back later."

And after informing the other turks in his detail she was leaving the hotel, she seemingly disappeared and did not return until the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, which was just in time to escort her flamboyant charge to the opening gala.

[the-blackest-spider]

@poeticphoenix

[tsukinoiri]

&. @badassbarmaid

"sooo i hear ya got somethin' new on the menu? what's it this time?"

[exturk]

I want cissnei to have a partner! Like how Rude and Reno are ....

...I think it would be fun!

[solbound]

@reapersxfolly

He failed a mission, yet again.

Silently, he stared down at the body he had been tasked to eliminate. Lifeless and still as crimson red blood pooled from the wound at his chest. It was a clean shot. But it wasn't Soleil's work, yet he felt that burn of remorse in his chest anyway.

"Is this really what it means to be a Turk? Or just what it means to work for Shinra?" He'd say in a low tone, more to himself than anyone else. His tone was hollow, empty. He didn't take any pride in this like the others did. But then... perhaps he was too sensitive.

He couldn't seem to make it as a SOLDIER, and now it was clear that he wasn't going to make it as a Turk either. A change from a turtleneck to a suit really didn't make a difference. He was still too soft for the work he was forced into.

[soldier-lodbrok]

[ BACK ]:    sender stands behind the receiver while in the midst of battle in order to help them fight off their enemies.

Open battles always were bad - but unavoidable at times. Glenn didn't like them. He could handle himself in a fight. But he mostly stood there to protect those of the SRC, who couldn't. He didn't want to kill SOLDIERs and grunts of Shinra. He aimed to disarm and knock out. But if they forced his hand, he'd rather save one of his own than spare an enemy.

This attack had been an ambush. Cowardly. Glenn cursed Shinra under his breath for that. Hopefully these things would end... if the future leader if Shinra held his promises, there was hope for that at least.

Stepping back, Glenn heard the scuffing of steps behind him - before a blazing burst of flames went past him. He felt the heat on the skin of his face, turning away instinctively - and hearing the screams of a soldier behind him.

Looking up - there was someone Glenn had believed to be a ghost. Veld. The Turk that had once interrogated him, years ago, on the happenings at Rhadore.

Though... he had defended him. Intel on Veld was muddy at best. And that made Glenn tense - though not as tense as the pained screams of the soldier Veld had just burned.

Still. The rebel warily lifted his axe in Veld's direction, his eyes full of questions.

@exiled-turk

[holyguardian]

@exiled-turk | X

It wasn't the first time Veld had crossed into their new lives on the run.

Though it was a surprise to see him again after all these years. He left them well enough alone, until now. Which meant something had changed.

Ifalna knew that information would come soon enough. So, she treated him as she would any other welcome guest — Glenn had differing opinions on the matter, but Veld was welcome in their home. He could have hindered their peace, could have shattered it, but he hadn't. Instead he sat at her table and offered a warning.

Exhaling a steadying breath, she slowly took a seat across from him at the table.

Their bags were always packed. They were prepared to uproot their lives at a moment's notice, and she was already failing. She should have used her burner phone to place the call to Glenn. He'd recognise the number, even if he didn't pick up, he'd know what it meant and what needed to be done.

But she stalled. Because to summon Glenn, to put their sudden move into motion, meant she would be without answers of her own.

"... your intel only locates two of us? The company isn't aware of Roran?" That was the question that burned her the most. Aerith was already known, but her son had been hidden away from them. As it stood, Shinra still had an outdated photo of Aerith when she was a child. All good signs, but she had to be certain.

Her fingers tapped silently over the tabletop, there was no reason to hide her nerves, not now.

Another moment passed before she reached across, gently holding her hand over one of his. "I know you can't work miracles. I know this is a selfish ask. Is there any way to save this house? To scrub our lives from its walls? Shinra will take Cosmo Canyon from us, but I can't bear the thought of losing another home."

[ducktracy]

doing that thing i did once before where i upload a menagerie of my Garageband Meddlings of cues/songs/blips/etc that are either too brief to post on their own or too unfinished. 95% of these are just studies of pre-existing Carl Stalling scores HAHA (that some of you may recognize! some of you may not! i’ll put sources in tags) but HEY! i tried to organize them from most substantial/finished to least

[the-blackest-spider]

Send me “Stay here with me tonight.” for my muse’s reaction

Accepting | Mutuals Only

@sentineloftheunderworld left a message: “Stay here with me tonight.”

Brows furrow at the question, head tilting slightly but enough that loose strands of red and white shift over her shoulder. She's quiet, studying her former mentor for a moment, he looks tired. This is one of the many reasons she doesn't look at him too closely, she makes jokes about him being old and calls him an old man even, but she doesn't want to see it in truth. It's just something to laugh about, and yet it isn't. Vincent is old, and he's worn, and yes, grumpy as hell a lot of the time, but he's earned that right.

"Where else am I going to go?" She's sure he means to stay at the Valentine Estate, which she had been, and she had lost track of how long that had been. Natasha supposes she could leave and maybe that's Vincent's deal, he's concerned she will just go off on her own and leave him behind…

Oh.

"Alright." She sits back down, crossing her legs and settling with her back against the wall. Both of them are solitary beings, but sometimes loneliness was not the best company, and it was better to have someone near who understands than to be alone with yourself and your own thoughts.

[chronicparagon]

[heavenprotect]

it's a given that no matter what verse he's in, steve is always a menace to some authority figures

[sentofight]

' honour and glory is just the dream they sell you, isn't it? a beautiful paradisiac illusion, in which people love you, hail your name and your deeds. my father was a fighter, too. murderer, more accurately. you can only carry that burden, and decide what to do now that you're aware of what your actions mean. ' ( aaaand Zack, context whomst? )

Buster sword rest against his forehead, in his usual manner, the FIRST class mutters his now personal mantra after a successful mission. Mako infused eyes opens and darts towards his mission partner--a new one, a new Turk agent. A smile curls his lips after seeing how she just mowed down the enemies with ease.

"Wow, you got a way with these weapons of yours, eh?" the FIRST class twirled his sword and placed it on his back, amazed by the new turk agent he got assigned a mission with. She is fierce. He thought Tseng was the hard core one, looks like this new agent is the no-mercy type. Not his type of partners but hey, it's not like he can choose them--he wishes.

"Huh?" he crossed his arms, head tilted to the side with a confused look. "O-oh ... sorry for what happened to your father, but I am not him." he shook his head and of course, whatever 'strife' comes his way, there is always a smile to fight it back. "There is nothin' wrong with having a dream! Actually, mine is to be come a hero! It's not something just brainwashed it in me. I know I want to be one not because someone sold it to me. I mean, I did see how cool SOLDIERS were when I was a kid but being cool is not just the thing that made me chose this path--I know I can MAKE a change, ya' know."

Nodding sagely, he walks in a circle and continues, "Your father chose his own path--whatever that path was, I chose mine, too. So, you did. It's about how we can face the choices we made, right? I'd like to think I'm pretty good with handling whatever comes my way. All I have to do is swing my sword and help people, right?" he flashed a smile at her. "I don't need ... a deep reason to help others, and besides, if my actions can get someone to change and pursue something they want then I'd say that's a win in my book, heh."

Hands rest over his waist, Zack took a moment, breathing in before turning back to his partner. "I get that we don't always have answers--heck, we can't even understand some situations we are thrown in, but I know we can work out anything if we just kept moving forward. Taking a break is dandy and all but stoppin'; surrenderin' is not an option in our line of work, right miss Turk?"

i asked for an ask! thank you~ | @furiaei

[eiko82]

Happy Turksgiving!! I mean, Happy Thanksgiving!! 

The Turks celebrated Thanksgiving with a delicious meal in Wutai.

[soldier-lodbrok]

"Please tell me what I'm looking at."

"Nothing."

Glenn's reply shot back almost immediately. And he meant it exactly like that - and as a threat. Nothing. The Turk in the sharp suit with the scarred face and the metal arm, he better had seen nothing here.

Because what actually was right in front of him was the Cetra Ifalna holding on tightly to her Cetra daughter - the 'specimens' that had fled from Hojo's laboratory. Their traces mysteriously vanishing at the edges of Midgar... thanks to the ex-SOLDIER who stood right in between Veld and them.

Glenn's fingers tightening around the hilt of his axe.

They had just made it to the Corel Region on their way to Cosmo Canyon. They were so close. They couldn't be caught now. But so far it looked like only Veld had stumbled upon them.

No. No way.

Unsheathing his axe fully, Glenn widened his stance, shaking his head once more.

"Just forget what you saw here. Just forget that you ever found us."

@exiled-turk

[holyguardian]

@exiled-turk | X

There was some projection in her question. Ifalna herself could recognise that, which only made her more empathetic. She understood the feeling of being far from home. For it to be a choice, a sacrifice for one's profession, that must have been so much harder.

"Born and raised." she answered, her lips pursed to quash a sad smile. Icicle Inn had been her home in every sense of the word. Though now as she sat in a cold metal chair with her baby girl bundled in her arms, most of her good memories were drowned out by the worst day of her life. Yet she still missed it. Her home, before it had been shattered.

"It's a bit far for visiting," she mused, fabricating a world where that would ever be possible, "and I'm not sure I'd survive another wave of small town scandal against my name."

Dating a man who was 13 years her senior had been a colourful time of her life. Then the whirlwind announcement of their marriage chased closely by her pregnancy. Her name would be immortalised as a cautionary tale for the young girls and women of Icicle Inn — this was why they needed to listen to their mother's lessons, to not invite trouble into their homes.

"Say you visit your home right now. What meal are you placing on your table?" she asked with a small tilt of her head. Not everyone indulged her. Some of the guards wore helmets and openly carried their guns, she never attempted to talk to them. Though they had been slowly replaced by people in sharp suits. There was significance in that change, but it was lost on her. It wasn't as though she were going to confess to her keepers that she held onto the answers they sought all along, because they asked the impossible of her. Regardless, Veld didn't seem to mind conversing, and she doubted Professor Hojo would find any use out of facts he already knew or culinary preferences.

[grieverled-moved]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑, 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒. He's careful, treating the other man like he was made of glass, something fragile, precious. He was, Squall argues internally, voice a whisper as he keeps his gaze cast down, flitting along Zack's frame where he remains perched, both keenly hyper aware of the space between & the parts where they make contact. The fabric of his pants is both welcome & frustrating, but they haven't had a chance to truly breathe in peace for a while.

Time moved too fast, missions grew in difficulty, something sinister seemingly brewing away beneath the stretching seams of Shinra in a way that made the Turk flinch, twitch, anxiously grow in his own restless unease as he felt something rising just along the horizon. Something he couldn't quite name, something he knows, pessimistically so, he'd likely have very little power in stopping.

That frustrating feeling of futility, it clings to his bones like tar, tainting everything until he feels so weighed down by his uncertain grief, it's noticeable to those that weren't as close to him as the man below him was.

Fingers curl, splaying softly to cup at the back of Fair's neck, thumb tracing along the side of his throat where he can feel Zack's steady pulse beat away beneath his skin. Strong, living, constant, reassuring that the fool of a man was really here over bleeding out somewhere because his golden heart demanding he take the brunt of a beating. He was so well-meaning, so genuine in his offered care - it'd always stun Squall speechless, always leave him trailing after his heels with worry as he tries to help keep things from escalating.

As he goes to slip his eyes shut tiredly, simply soaking in the moment & all it's shared quiet closeness, hands keep him steady, one moving, lifting, the brush of warm & living hands shifting to cradle at the side of his face. When Zack speaks, Squall reopens his eyes, peering down at the SOLDIER with glacial calm sights, melting along their frigid edges in earned softness, the barest lean into his hand as he scoffs out a light puff of air in a slight laugh. Maybe he was worried the other could do better. Hell he should. He deserved that much, but he reminded himself how little control the other already seemed to have in his life as is, how others often pushed their views on him.

It's calm enough to silence his woes, even if they weren't what sparked his silent pensiveness, the air of mourning that seemed to drape itself along him like a funeral veil. Shedding it for the moment, his eyes garner an old sharpness back to them, burning like frostbite in their wolfish depths as they lock back on bright inhuman sights of mako tinged skies. His tongue peeks between parted lips, wetting daintily along their curved edge before his brows furrow in determination. Leaning in, using his hold on the man's neck to guide him forwards, Squall grants a kiss, languid & lingering, mouthing what he didn't have the courage to say out loud in loving gestures. All expressed in loud caresses that end in him resting his forehead against the dark-haired swordsman's.

Breathless, he takes a moment to soothe his beating heart, gaze searching Zack's own before they thin to match to crescent of his smile.

❝ You got me attached. Made it so I'm going to struggle to find someone else after you. ❞ Maybe harsh, maybe out of place. Realistic as he'd argue. Couples weren't often known to last long. In their line of work, with how different they were . . . he isn't sure if the delicate form of their bond would survive whatever came next. That looming storm on the horizon prickled at his spine, momentarily smoothed away when Zack runs a hand up the curve of his back, dipping beneath the rim of his shirt to explore the now bared skin beneath.

His free hand lifts, curling under Fair's chin, a tender stroke of a finger given as something fond quivers in his tone.

❝ Ever the hero. You somehow won me over. ❞

*𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ➤ @myristicisms [ ; ] “ I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do. ” ;; From Zack