#Kintsukuroi!Sephiroth

[calamitysshatteredson]

@wingsdreamt [From here because words showed up!]

Sephiroth tenses, because it's-- It's so much like Zack. As he remembers him and something completely new. Similar, familiar, but altogether different. It's been a long time since any illusion has been this realistic, this full of detail, and he knows he should do whatever he can to wake up. Dismiss it. It's not real, you're not real, I read about how you died, I--

Well. He won't be saying that. Bit of a... thing about research he'd done in the past and all. Paranoia stuck around, he supposed. (And he did not under any circumstances admit, even to himself, that the only reason he has to worry about what a Zack-illusion might think of him talking about another few days of near-sleepless research was because this might not be an illusion.)

"As it so happens." He parrots drily, one eyebrow raised and feels like kicking himself because it's so familiar. It's too familiar and too real to be real. "Dead men--" He halts in the middle of the sentence, suddenly making a noise that sounds like a cross between startled laughter and the low wheeze of a dying Behemoth. "'Dead men stay dead', says the dead man." Convincing, that.

As for her-- No, he has no animosity toward her, not really. Complicated... something, now, but somehow that felt neither here nor there.

He can't quite resist the urge to scrub at his face with one hand; it's a habit he picked up while he was empty of all this. Blissfully unaware and not able to enjoy it, the mystery of who he was and why he had no memory of it weighing more heavily than the threat he would someday remember and wish he didn't. Hand falling limp to his side, Sephiroth stares. He stares for a long time, taking in details. Not as well as he used to, photographic memory a thing of the past, but he still remembers. Enough. It's almost worth playing into when surely this unreality must end like all the others, isn't it?

He sighs deeply. "Alright, assuming. We'll pretend for a moment that I'm me and you're you and we're both here. Because of all of us, you're the one who deserves another chance at life most." It's a thought he's had. One he's agonized over for a long time, but never said out loud. There'd never been reason to.

It's hard to speak for a moment. He tries to push that aside; control over his emotions has gotten harder along with everything else that used to be so, so easy. Gaze downward, he just. Breathes. "I wish you were here. Seeing as how apologies aren't possible."

[calamitysshatteredson]

@themageofmany

He appreciated the silence as Skylar thought. It gave him time to breathe steadily, to get emotional reactions back into the territory of logic. Surely it was some bit of cruel or tragic humor that such things only seemed more difficult over time. Easier in a cold environment where that sort of thing was simply expected, perhaps.

Best left in the furthest, darkest corner of his mind, anyway. He supposed it might all be starting to look like an attic overcrowded with boxes, metaphorically. "Deal." An extremely easy agreement to make. If there were any chance of them truly ending it all...

The question got a soft hum followed by a long bout of silence, contemplating. "Shinra had too much faith in their computer systems. If we find any computers, they're likely to be half destroyed to begin with." And would wind up fully so, Sephiroth didn't need to say. He was tempted to skip the other matter he'd thought of, but perhaps it needed mentioning. "I'm not sure about personal notes. Things that went unreported because the data wasn't specifically asked for." And that was as close as he wanted to get to thinking about the sort of handwritten information Hojo might have jotted down for himself. In more need of burning than official records, as far as he was concerned.

@calamitysshatteredson

Skylar contemplated his offer a moment. Instinctively her answer was no, she did not want to look up her old records, or any records and reports from that place. But on the other hand, they would be safe with Sephiroth. No one would be able to see them, no one would be able to replicate them.

"...Maybe." was her final answer. "If we find them, we burn them. Deal? That way, the final piece of that place dies."

The truth of the matter was that there wasn't a lot that Skylar didn't remember about her time in that place. There likely wasn't much that those papers could tell her. But she understood Sephiroth's curiosity and trusted him more than any person on the Planet.

"Do you think they'd still have anything on paper anymore? Or would it all be on the computers?"

[ao3-clack]

Kintsukuroi

by cream_pudding

Kintsukuroi - an art and philosophy that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

***

Cloud enjoys his job as a delivery driver, that is until one day he is tasked with making a special delivery to a man who lies physically and mentally broken in hospital.

This is a story about love, healing, and forgiveness of the self and others.

Updated: Weekly.

Words: 10490, Chapters: 1/14, Language: English

Fandoms: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Compilation of Final Fantasy VII

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Aerith Gainsborough, Tifa Lockhart, Kunsel (Compilation of FFVII), Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)

Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hospitalization, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Falling In Love, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Body Worship, Body Dysphoria, Suicidal Thoughts, Rehabilitation, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Physical Disability, Amputation, Escort Service, Military, Secret Relationship, Character Growth, Happy Ending

from AO3 works tagged 'Zack Fair/Cloud Strife' https://ift.tt/2ZYN4iW via IFTTT

[calamitysshatteredson]

If forced -- if he allowed it to be a thought process to begin with, more likely -- Sephiroth might have said that he had some brush with the mechanization of evil. Not merely bad or cruel or questionably universally morally wrong, but evil.

It wasn't a word he liked to use. Not a nature he preferred to think about. It had been somewhat present, however. It was difficult to isolate enough to turn over and inspect. Not as easy to define as one might like, and certain one did not always recognize it when they saw it. When they felt it--

Ah. Hard to say. There were instincts he'd recognized but ignored. What could he have done? More? Less? Despite everything stacked against him, everything designed to do exactly what it had done with a good many arguments about when or whether it had all gone out of control...

He did know he should have listened to instincts, gut feelings, when it became clear exactly what his purpose was. And it wasn't as if he didn't have some around him who saw past the weapon. There had been so much hopelessness, such an assurance that nothing would change, that the opposing evidence took longer to sink in. It was fine for a while. It was good, for a while.

Can a tool, a weapon, desire? Carnage, yes. Vengeance torn open with rage. Coming to a point when it could not blame another's soiled hand for the slaughter. Honed and unleashed, and even the wielders could not be surprised at their eventual demise at the weapon's hands.

Most. Most.

Was it wrong to wish there'd been one casualty in particular he'd been present for? Likely. Almost certainly.

There would be no apologies for that. Not to himself or anyone else.

[calamitysshatteredson]

@themageofmany liked for a thing!

"No. Absolutely not." He wasn't really talking to either of them, not Skylar and not himself, and not any particular unnamed entity potentially in control of the universe either. They were just words, offsetting the panic that he was not going to let himself feel overwhelmed by. He was going to continue tearing clothes to wrap with, to soak up the blood, to stop the bleeding--

He'd still had some fairly decent reaction time and sword muscle memory, it turned out. Unfortunately, it was for a much longer sword at a much different weight, and he just-- He hadn't, in time, in the right place before he'd managed to correct himself and his stance, and she'd--

"This isn't how it ends. It isn't." Rip. "Not now, not after all this." Zip. Surgeon's knot, they call that. "I made a promise." He wasn't all that good at holding to those, apparently. Or making them possible.

[calamitysshatteredson]

@projecth-aileth liked for a thing!

Records weren't impossible to find regarding Shinra operations, even some time after everything had been considered settled. Over and done. It depended entirely on their level of classification, however, and some of what he'd been searching for--

He knew it likely didn't exist. It was worth seeking anyway, for his own curiosity and to personally fully destroy anything which might lead to any of the tragedy happening again. It would have been bad enough to find records of what he saw in front of him, the subtle hum and several tiny flickering lights indicating that power still flowed here somehow. Most of the building was gone, but this... whatever this was...

"They tried again after all." The sounded like empty words in an empty room. Felt that way. Sephiroth reached out a hand to clear off the rest of the dust and debris obscuring the chamber's full label, then let it hover above instead. No contact. No certainty as to what he would do with whatever knowledge he gained. Destroy it, whatever it was, but... "They tried again." He repeated, tired. Angry. Tempted to tear the storage pod open; but he didn't have that strength anymore. Better to simply brush the paneling clean enough to make out words, code names, classifications; whatever ought not be remembered. Something else to take with him

[calamitysshatteredson]

@whitejenna liked for a thing!

It shouldn't have surprised him, the overall lack of information about Hojo. His education, his credentials (real or invented; some things were never clear to begin with), the technical bits were easy enough to find. Anything personal may as well have never existed, and indeed truly may not have. Sephiroth didn't remember knickknacks or personal items. Just degrees, acknowledgements, and... pieces of former successes. So he'd said.

There was as much satisfaction in winding up with empty hands as there was frustration at the lack off things to throw. That was just the way of it, wasn't it? The man who brought about the start of everything was little more than a stain on history. And the remains of that legacy moved through the ruins of another broken Shinra outpost, nature already starting to reclaim it. Good.

The air was frigid, wet and thick, fog swallowing the sounds of his footsteps. Echoing back his thoughts as he spoke out loud to himself; what did it matter when no one was around to hear? "I thought I was finished with this anger." He realized how ridiculous that concept was only as it left his mouth. "I thought I was done with anger at you."

No grave to defile. No allocated place to pour his agonies. Tears became rage became tears again. If there were a single soul present to hear what worked up into anguished, guttural screams along the path back down to the ocean's shore, then they left him be. Left dawn to burn the fog and light his way back to wherever it was he decided to go.

[calamitysshatteredson]

@withoutanumber

Much as he didn't mean to respond to the demand with more silence, he couldn't have given voice to much of anything in that moment. Throat dry, tongue stilled, thoughts temporarily more than a touch chaotic.

Of all the things he couldn't have expected from finally meeting again after so long, having an internal fight with himself was the most far-flung possibility. The urge to not respond, the temptation to embrace cowardice and force the other man's hand--

What a joke he was making of a second chance. If that was indeed what it was; he still had his uncertainties about that idea in particular, but it hardly mattered in the moment. He owed a good deal more to this man specifically than a non-answer. Than to simply be run through and left another mystery, leaking dread. He remembered Zack's friend. He remembered the young trooper, and to see him in that moment without delusion, without filter...

Sephiroth's arms remained at his sides. There was no point in a change of stance, either to plead or to defend himself. He swallowed, and he accepted whatever trying would bring him. "I don't know. The-- The latter. I'm not sure. The product of a questionable sense of humor." That couldn't have made sense to anyone but him. That also couldn't have helped his chances to be heard out, but...

What did he even have to say? He hadn't even intended to apologize, but he needed to the moment he had the chance. Honest as the words were, he rather understood the reaction. He wondered how much he even looked like himself in the moment, unable to hide behind a wall of what appeared to all the world a perfectly unfeeling coldness. He couldn't hide anymore, he didn't even quite know what he felt, but he was aware it had to be in his expression.

Who are you? What would be most comforting? Most damning? You know who I am wasn't-- It wouldn't be-- "There's only who I used to be, I think. There's no getting away from that, is there?" It wasn't some clever response, some side-step to get himself out of a situation. It was just... exhausted understanding.

@calamitysshatteredson | continued from [ x ]

“Don't just stand there – say something!” Cloud demanded, hands clinging gamely to the weapon in his hands.

He was here in the first place because he had heard rumors to the effect of Sephiroth being here. He hadn't really believed it; there were remnants, of course, and those pretending to be the real man. But this, Cloud knew, was no imposter. He had the look of the former first class perfectly, and even his cadence...

But his voice. That was the weird thing, wasn't it? No voice in his head, compelling him to do things he didn't want to do. He knew how to ignore the voice now, but. There was no voice.

It was almost like this was the Sephiroth from before. Back in Nibelheim, the Sephiroth who had known it was his hometown, had asked him what it was like...said he wouldn't know, because he didn't have a hometown.

Could it possibly be? Sephiroth wasn't acting right. He wasn't pulling a weapon, he wasn't giving Cloud that creepy smile he used whenever he talked to him, wasn't speaking in his head in a voice he couldn't quite ignore. Instead, he just looked sad, almost penitent. That wasn't the Sephiroth Cloud knew. Not at all.

“Who are you?” he finally demanded, not quite ready to put his sword away. “What are you?”

[calamitysshatteredson]

There wasn't really a set day for it. Around the time when the last days of summer's warmth were very clearly felt, the start of the change of leaf colors and the scent of the air. He supposed he hadn't been particularly attuned to seasons when he hadn't needed to be, mostly inside a Shinra facility or on a mission where the only thought given the weather was how he might use it to his advantage.

He felt the coolness and dampness more clearly, after... After. Fascinating, terrible, terrifying. Intriguing. Not bad, ultimately. Of course seasons changed, and that particular change just--

Reminded him. Not as much a reminder of losses as a reminder of acknowledgement. As much sense as that made.

Finding one dish everyone might have liked proved almost impossible, but he liked to think he might have succeeded from time to time. Or at least knew who would complain about what aspects in particular. That... helped. A bit. To chew, to swallow, to eat.

To leave a little. Not too much, not waste, just... enough to place somewhere. Where animals were likely to get to it, of course. It was a tradition and a ritual shared by various cultures, or so he'd read. An offering of sorts, a sharing of a meal with ones who were no longer present in the same way.

Every time he would nearly forget himself and mutter, "I ought to learn to cook."

And every time, without fail, the wind would pick up and he would almost hear a chorus of protests.

[calamitysshatteredson]

@warofthebeasts liked for a thing!

[Taking off from here a bit, obviously, because my brain grabbed hold and would not let go.]

It was much too serious, much too level-headed, much too blandly boring and routine-sounding, the tone of his voice. Certainly to communicate the information that his words did. "I don't think the number of times you may have died necessarily represents how much of a chicken you are or aren't." Strange words, odd concept, still difficult to wrap his mind around.

"That said... I never realized how much of a coward I really was." Spoken with all of the distance and certainty of someone who'd only observed events, not experienced them. Sephiroth had been there, he'd made decisions. It was the decisions he didn't make, and the ones he'd dragged his feet on until the last possible moment, which haunted him still. Sometimes literally, he was starting to believe.

He haunted himself, most of all. "I suppose pain was the furthest thing from my experience during any of it, so... you are welcome to hit me if it'll make you feel better." Half joking. Half serious.

[calamitysshatteredson]

❝ You’re sorry,  sorry?  No,  you’re a liar! ❞

Silent Hill Starters | accepting but slowwww

There was no flinching back. No retreating. There was no arguing, though Sephiroth's mouth opened once. Nothing escaped, no sound or breath.

Nothing he'd said would have been correct or comforting. That hadn't been why he'd approached in the first place, but he wasn't quite certain what had made him follow the familiar man. He'd been hiding with some success, hadn't he? He'd been intending to keep hiding away from the world, away from everyone and everything...

But there was no hiding from his past. From the very few survivors who had been present for... anything. Everything. This man, this... he...

Arms dropped to his sides, he wished he were armed. At least if he pulled a weapon, maybe he could inspire the blond to--

Gods. He almost, almost, felt the sob lodged in his throat give way. And what would Angeal have done under these circumstances? The same thing?

He couldn't, then. But he didn't know what else to do.

[calamitysshatteredson]

❛  you were once and perhaps continue to be the myth you tell to scare yourself  ❜

Not Here prompts | accepting but slow

His initial response wavers. It'd been almost automatic, offended, bitter; then it dries up under recognition. Voice, first. Then appearance.

Probably a dream, then. Maybe just a hallucination. That wouldn't be entirely new, but this is different and interesting, and what's the harm in playing along before it becomes some kind of nightmare?

"And if I were at all truly intelligent, maybe I'd find a way to make use of some of that fear." He'd found that despite being called a brilliant tactician on a number of occasions, that applied only to specific circumstances. Fearless and cunning and brutal and nearly immortal--

Yeah. Words of yesteryear. And he does not need another dreamscape to feel sorry for himself in. To tell himself things far too late. He ought to turn his back and walk away, but the dangerous longing for familiarity keeps him there. "Rightfully terrified, I would say. And not by being the kind of myth that bleeds and dies." He'd gotten so close to embodying all those fears. To moving right past them and becoming...

What? Becoming what? Sephiroth sighs. "Let's skip to the end, shall we? I took feelings of betrayal very badly and now I am actually susceptible to being wounded and pained by the sharp edge of a sheet of paper. This information is not helpful to me, as I know it quite intimately already. And whatever psychological thing is happening could at least go about it without wearing your face."

[calamitysshatteredson]

❝  i’m not very brave.  or strong.  i broke.  they broke me…but i’m still here.  ❞ [ from zack because ow? ]

Magnolia Castillo starters | accepting but forever slow

Silence followed Zack's words, Sephiroth feeling entirely too busy trying to breathe with what felt like a sudden boulder on his chest to respond.

Zack had said that. Zack thought that. Honestly and truly was telling the truth as he saw it. Of all people--

It took more effort than it should have, to gather himself. To make certain that his voice would remain steady. "I won't stand for that. Not from you." While the words were harsh, his tone was anything but. Soothing, imploring; he needed the man to understand, making eye contact. Holding it.

"You are the bravest, strongest person I have ever known." That was saying quite a lot, considering-- Ah, well. Considering the group of people who stopped him. Killed him, rather, but that was--

Different. He hadn't known them.

The urge to argue about Zack being broken in the first place was strong, difficult to deny, but there were still things he didn't know. Had only vague knowledge of, and he did... know what Hojo was capable of. If nothing else Zack was forced to do have destroyed him, then... that man...

It's still my fault. It's my fault, it's my doing, it's mine--

"You're here." He agreed instead, voice tight. A little bruised, maybe, but-- "We both have some metaphorical bones to reset, don't we?"

[calamitysshatteredson]

  ❛  you won’t find it  ;  you won’t find whatever you’re looking for  ❜ from @breathofthearth i’m giving him spoOoky aerith

Not Here prompts | accepting but slow

"I don't believe that." He's long since given up on pretending that he can't hear, something. Someone. It's not the same as it used to be, it's not the same.

Maybe he's mentally compromised in another way. Lost hold of reality completely, not that he had all that strong of a grasp before he supposed. But this isn't the voice. It's not her, not... it. Telling him what he wants to hear, tearing at him. Then being torn in turn--

He takes a deep breath, too fast and too shaky, but that too is different. Allowed. It's fine; he doesn't feel an overwhelming gravity of time or responsibility. He doesn't particularly feel comforted by this voice, and he's sure that he shouldn't. There are reasons. Have to be reasons.

And speaking of. Thinking of. Back to the search, gently combing through rubble and burned objects. He's only very roughly sure that he's standing about where classified records would have been kept in the Shinra building... allowing for the absolute destruction of everything around it.

For all that's been destroyed, all he's grateful that no one will ever find either purposely or accidentally, he's been aching with the knowledge that there are things he missed completely. Libraries full of information which lead to... what it lead to... but somewhere there must be an official record of the truth. Observations of what was happening to him, at the very least--

He's found nothing. And he's so very human, now; he needs food and water and rest on a regular schedule. Add to that, he still needs to be careful to stay hidden even if partial walls remain to hide him and his task. No telling when those too will crumble.

Sighing and sitting down in an enormous stretch of shadow from one of those walls, he isn't even sure who he's addressing when he complains (he has an inkling, an idea, but he won't entertain it), "All of this is really quite annoying enough without being actively discouraged, you know."

[calamitysshatteredson]

  ❛  you were once and perhaps continue to be the myth you tell to scare yourself  ❜

Not Here Starters | accepting but slow

The blink was slow in a way that might almost be methodical if there weren't such exhaustion under the motion. Less intimidation or defiance than straight-up tiredness. He still loomed over the blond man, technically; if he were standing. If he had any want to use his height, his bulk, his still-unreasonable physique, but that...

Changed, as well. In ways. Everything changed, in ways.

Sitting in a chair technically a bit too small for him. Wearing clothes that most certainly weren't designed for him, but they fit. Enough. Boots that must have been worn by more than one person before him. What he'd felt he'd lost, he'd sought and he'd found, and--

It was regret all the way through. "Did I become a myth? Or did I start out a myth?" Placid smile, placid tone. The best attempt at false calm he had, which... was lacking. Like everything else. "Did I end like all myths do?"

Or is that yet to come?

So help him, he had no idea what he was hoping for.

[calamitysshatteredson]

What if Chadley and Sephiroth lived together as step-siblings or something along those lines?

What If..? Scenarios | accepting but forever slow

Much as Sephiroth had liked the idea of staying in one place for a while with enough distance between them and Midgar, "settling down" for a bit if he dared to think such a thing, there was always good reason not to stay anywhere for too long. Even after cutting his own hair and being somewhat forced to change his own wardrobe, he knew he might easily be recognized. Chadley might be less likely to be recognized by anyone outside of Shinra, but the possibility surely existed. And maybe he was just a touch... protective.

It was no wonder why, of course. Shinra as a whole had taken entirely too much, done too much wrong to too many people who were looking for whatever justice they could grasp, and the thought of anything happening to someone he could quite easily claim as family because of his link to either Sephiroth or Shinra itself--

Sometimes the thoughts still just hit him for no particular reason. Or perhaps because there were many good reasons and he simply needed the reminder to keep his guard up while taking a series of slow, deep breaths. It helped, oddly enough; Chadley's suggestion and influence.

Much like trying their hand at small village life. It was a nice place to stay, far from Midgar, and welcoming when it came to people intent on proving themselves. Sephiroth felt woefully inept at being helpful in any way, but he'd started slowly. Chopping firewood wasn't as easy as it would have been while fully enhanced, but he still had decent physical strength to lend and managed to learn tasks quickly enough. Somehow he'd even accidentally charmed the family of local chocobo ranchers into giving him near-constant work and paying him fairly for it. Enough for a little cabin of their own before too long, and enough experience to aid in building it.

It wasn't such a surprise that Chadley was good with technology, of course, but it was surprising and wonderful to know that he was also an excellent instructor. The village may have been small and generally cut off from quite a lot of advanced technology, but Chadley also knew how to make that work in their favor. Custom computers from older, cheaper parts? A fully secure local network with cables from long-abandoned Shinra-owned buildings? Eventual decent speeds for internet and phones? If it all proved successful for long enough, they could start introducing other "backwater" villages to their very own modernization. For trade, for supplies, information, for medical help; the possibilities were important enough to work for even if their power needs required a few more windmills. Sephiroth aided in building those, as well, fascinated to know how they worked.

They were aware that there was only so long they could live comfortably before other villagers started talking, however. Before they recognized Sephiroth, at the very least, and life in a small community meant being unable to escape gossip for long. He heard rumors of himself from time to time, everything from dead to a ghost haunting the ruins of Midgar, and he couldn't say any of that was particularly wrong. He might not have brilliant mako-glow eyes anymore, and the cat-like slit had long since been abandoned when he awoke in a very human body, but the bone structure was the same. The voice. The mannerisms, despite trying to re-train himself. It was less for self-preservation even than simply allowing Chadley a chance to live, to fully embrace what he wanted, and perhaps continue to help others as they both wanted to.

It came as a surprise, then, nearly two years later, when the local cafe owner showed up unannounced on their front porch. Panic immediately set in, though Sephiroth tried to speak calmly, smile naturally. The woman simply shushed him with a smile and a light pat on his hand, telling him that a bunch of "Shinra sympathizers looking to prove they hadn't learned a damn thing" were being turned around outside of town and hopefully feeling unwelcome and annoyed enough to just go back to where they came from. She'd just wanted to make sure that he and Chadley were both prepared to stay inside and unseen until given the all-clear. Not to prepare to fight, not to leave; to simply stay put and let others take care of things as peacefully as they could.

He supposed he'd been a bit of a fool to assume that he and his "brother" were the only ones who had fully left their previous lives attached to the company behind. He did feel a bit bad that the woman before him was one of entirely too many seemingly nameless, faceless secretaries who had a habit of working for a particularly short period of time before giving their notice or finding that their key cards no longer worked. She remembered him, before. And she remembered that he'd paused on the way by her deck only to right a stack books that were set to topple over with any extra movement. Of all the simple, ridiculous things to remember, to hold onto...

Right. Well. A bit was learned about community, he supposed. And a bit more about trying to make some time to help out at the cafe, as well.