#have you considered remembering genesis

[rainbowcarousels]

I was in the middle of writing but in trying to look up if there had ever been an official answer on something, I saw the Jenova kids referred to as 'Sephiroth, Angeal and another one' and I need to go pay down to recover.

[sonic-adventure-3]

msrble blast

[narcjsistx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 | OS

shidou ryusei x fem reader ; words: 6.7k (6723)

plot: if there's something you love it's the relationship you have with charles, the little player of PxG. one thing you hate is shidou ryusei, the stupidest boy in the entire universe. the positive negative thing is that charles literally considers you and shidou his parents

extra: spoiler from U-20 and NEL arcs, read at your own risk!! jk, but don't read if you don't want big spoilers, and don't complain to me

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

——— FIRST

"Could you be more precise in your throw? The ball goes where it's supposed to go, but you know that a mistake of even a millimeter can make it end up with the opponent. I want you to be precise" you say sitting comfortably on your bench, legs crossed, pen in hand and a notebook resting on your knees "How exactly? Do I have to go like, wah wah and then booosh?" the boy says, sprinting across the field, moving in a way that only he understands perfectly, but that you're now more or less starting to understand "Exactly. I want more mobility from you"

Charles nods "Okay, ma mère!" he says laughing, then goes back to his training. You roll your eyes pretending to be annoyed, but you can't suppress the little smile that appears on your lips: he's been using this nickname for months now, at first it was weird, but now it almost feels strange if he calls you by your name, your real name. It's just that little by little you've become fond of the idea of playing an almost maternal role for Charles, who is actually only a few years younger than you

"Yoo! Where's my favorite boy?" says someone you recognize by their usual shrill tone of voice

Oh, and here's Charles' father figure

What a shitty choice

"Shidou!" the boy shouts running towards the blond, who ruffles his hair as soon as they get close "Usual boring training?" he asks, and you watch them from afar annoyed. You know that Shidou asks this because he knows that you are almost always the one training the ftench genius, except for the rare times Loki does it. Shidou knows you're here, otherwise he wouldn't have looked at you and smiled that usual smile he does because he knows it annoys you

"I wouldn't say boring. I improved a few things with my coach" he says, and you like how Charles defends you in front of that parasite "Improved with Y/n? Then she blinded you too with those same old training sessions..." he says, even seeming sorry for the boy "Training is stupid, all you need is practice on the field" Shidou says starting to run towards the ball, which has remained further away from them. Charles chases him, and between them begins a 1vs1 that leaves you space to hate Shidou in your thoughts

You hate how sure of himself he is, how he always wants to prove himself better than you in front of Charles and everyone in general. You simply hate Ryusei Shidou, but you have to live with the idea that the little blond only listens to you and him in the whole Blue Lock, if not sometimes even Julian Loki. The last match of the Neo Genesis League was about to start, and in a few days PxG would face Bastard Munchen, who you knew were in a bit of a critical situation due to their players. Being on par with Anri in terms of organisation, it was up to you and her to manage the training sessions that Ego administered to the players, and as a result you knew practically everything that was going on in the teams, although you had to remain impartial due to your more present commitment to the french team. You were originally supposed to end up as Chigiri's assistant coach at Manshine City, but at the last minute you asked to coach Charles, and the role was given to you straight away. Charles was not in the Blue Lock training system, he came from a french city whose name you only sometimes remembered. He would not stay here in Japan, at the end of the NEL he would leave like all the other foreign players. Your heart ached a little thinking about it, but you wanted to make him strong first and then think about the separation

When you had the recording videos of the foreign players in hand, he had immediately caught your attention. After a few training sessions together he had already started to trust you: Charles was a child, but you had 9 younger brothers at home who had always given you problems, so managing him was like walking on already studied ground

You weren't sure how Charles had come to hear only you and the other two boys, but you didn't care so much actually. The ball lands a few meters from where you're sitting, and Shidou immediately arrives and picks it up, running back into the middle of the field, but not before staring at you for a few seconds. Here comes the parasite

Shidou had been in the Blue Lock since the beginning of the project, or at least, something like that. During the match against U-20 he had played alongside Sae Itoshi, thus appearing as an enemy. But there was much more underneath

At the beginning of the project, you and Shidou were actually friends, if that's what you could call the relationship. You were the practical part of Ego and Anri, the only one who watched the games on the bench and not through a screen like them. You liked your role, as you liked exchanging a few words with the players. In the end, you had become a bit of a friend to everyone, the only girl in a myriad of boys who only had soccer and food on their minds. And when you say friend to everyone, Ryusei also falls into this category

You joked, you rooted for him, and he rooted for you when you were called up by Ego after some little mistake you made. It happened that he would spend hours and hours on the field just to talk to you while he kicked the ball; if he had some free time after training, he would ask you to get some pink dye and redo the color in his hair. It was a strange relationship, damn strange, but beautiful in your opinion. At least that was before he was muzzled into silence, tied up in a room for Rin Itoshi's safety. You knew he was deadly, but on the one hand you thought, and still think, Ego's behavior was a little excessive. And so Shidou had been "bought" by the prodigy, moved to the U-20 team and brought back to the Blue Lock only at the start of the Neo Genesis League. And from that moment, everything had changed

The first few days after his return you tried to talk to him, thinking that everything was the same as before, but he seemed to be the same but far from you. And so, gradually, you started to hate him and he started to love your annoyed face because of him. And here you are again, trying to ignore the part where you were deeply disappointed when you heard he was leaving for another team. But you preferred that to be ignored, at least by you and the entire world

“ATTENTION!” Charles shouts, and before you know it, the ball lands in your face, knocking you off the bench. You lay there confused for a few seconds, before you see the boy in your field of vision, followed by the blond who doesn't even try to hide his laughter "Maybe the throw was a little crooked, Shidou" says the french kid, looking up at the other "If that's the result, the throw was perfect!" he says laughing. You stay on the floor, this time sitting up while you rub your aching head while listening to the bullshit Shudou says

"Oh no, ma mère, are you going to die?" Charles says smiling at you, and even though you're still in pain you can't help but laugh a little at his comment "I don't think so, Charles. I'd rather someone else die" you say looking up, and immediately the little one starts laughing, but it's not the same for Ryusei, who looks down at you "I guess you're the funny one in your family" he says with a raised eyebrow "Oh trust me, I am. I don't think I can say the same about you. Months after you've been here, you still suck at making people laugh" you say, and the child's laughter becomes louder as Shidou unexpectedly offers you a hand to stand up. You were confused "Huh?" you mutter "I may not be funny, but I'm still a gentleman" he says, and from the tone of his voice it sounds damn sure. You stare at his hand for a while, before deciding that sooner or later you'll have to get up off the ground if you don't want to stay here forever. You're about to grab his hand when he removes it, putting both of them in the pockets of his track pants as he starts walking towards the exit of the infield "I'm kidding. Not that I care about manners so suddenly"

"Oh, fuck you bastard!" you say, getting up from the ground by yourself, while he has already made his way to the exit. You hear him laugh at your comment, as he raises his hand, still with his back to you, waving it "See you, family!" he says in a friendly tone, and this only makes your blood boil even more in your veins

"Mère and Dad are arguing" Charles says, looking at you amused with the usual sharp tooth sticking out of his mouth. You turn to him with a huff, picking up your notebook on the floor before going back to sit on the bench "Let's continue"

——— SECOND

"You should seriously stop eating this crap" you tell the boy, whose mouth is completely full of the pink substance "It's not my problem if you don't like it" he says, continuing to gorge on inordinate amounts of the dessert. The cafeteria is almost completely empty, except for a few other boys from PxG who are sitting in silence eating. Charles always eats sweets before going to sleep, and for a few days now he's been obsessed with a strawberry jelly of who knows what off brand. You take a sip of your tea, ignoring the kid who continues to dirty his tray. It's almost 10pm and you're tired too, today has been a particularly tiring day due to your commitments: between various training sessions and Ego who asked you at least ten times to clean the team's locker room, you've had little time to rest. And you were so damn sleepy, but you knew Charles would keep you awake even past the time he was, technically, supposed to go to his dorm to rest

As the minutes pass, the cafeteria empties. Now there are only you and the boy left, who is on his third helping of his dessert

"I think that's enough" you say taking the container from his hands, throwing it in the bin at the side of your table. You see Charles's face go white, as if you had just told him he can't play soccer "What did you just do?!" he says in shock, moving to put a hand in the bin, probably to get the rest of the portion. You look at him disgusted, taking it from his shirt to lift it up "Take that thing back and I swear tomorrow I'll ask Loki to let you train with him for a whole week"

"You really wouldn't do that. You love me too much, right ma mère?"

"I have to educate you like a mother too, don't I?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE" the kid says kicking, and you let him go because of your tiredness. You watch him tiredly as he runs towards the exit of the cafeteria, rubbing your eyes from tiredness "Charles, come back here-" you say walking towards his direction, but are surprised when you hear someone fall. You walk towards the corridor, where you see Charles on the ground and, in front of him, Shidou on the ground too

With a hint of surprise you notice how, unlike always, Shidou's hair is down instead of straight up. Blonde and pink locks fall over his face, and looking further down you notice that he, like Charles, is not wearing his usual uniform, replaced instead by a gray tank top and blue pajama pants, provided by the Blue Lock. You can't say he's not a good looking, but that's not exactly the context in which you would say that

"Ooouch" the boy says, rubbing his head, probably in pain "Oh! Shidou?" he continues, noticing the boy "I was just looking for you" the boy says, then looks up at you, smiling cheekily "You always have your mommy with you, huh?"

You glare at him, bending down to Charles' height "You okay?" you ask, and he nods "I'd be better off with the pudding still in my hands" he says, and you snort in his face, making him laugh. Shidou looks at you confused, tilting his head "What do you mean?" he asks curiously, and as much as you don't want to explain, Charles is the one who immediately takes care of answering him "She threw a whole pudding in the trash!" he says offended, and you pull his ear "It wasn't a whole pudding, there were barely two spoonfuls left to finish it! And besides, it's not good for you to eat it" you say as if to scold him, and this time too the french kid laughs. Shidou watches you, getting back on your feet and then offering a hand to Charles to get back on his feet. He offers his hand to you too, but you avoid being teased this time too and get up on your own

"You mean the pink shit Ego always puts next to the cutlery?" the boy asks, putting his hands in his pockets. Charles nods frantically "That. You've tried it too, right? It's damn good, in France we don't have-" he says, but Shidou cuts him off "That sucks" he says in a disgusted tone, making you raise your face because you wouldn't have expected a sign of collaboration

"See? If Shidou tells you that too, you should really let that shit go" you say, nodding, ruffling the boy's hair "If you say so..." he says, now defeated. You laugh internally at seeing him so saddened by something like that, but you notice how Ryusei is also holding back a laugh

Your eyes meet for a few seconds, and soon neither of you can help but laugh. Charles looks at you in confusion as you laugh, but then suddenly a genius seems to pass through his mind, "You guys are getting along great!" he says emotionally, probably because of seeing you almost always insult each other. You immediately stop laughing, tugging on his ear again “Don’t talk nonsense. Now go to sleep!” you say, and he grumbles a bit before heading off to his dorm

You and Shidou remain in the empty hallway. You look down, while he has no qualms about staring at you brazenly: typical of him, he has never felt ashamed of anything, and you don't think he'll ever start. You stare at the floor for a bit too long, to the point of looking up "You were looking for Charles earlier, weren't you?" you ask crossing your arms. He seems to think about it "Yeah. But I don't think I need it anymore" he says, but the way he says it makes you curious "What did you need?" you ask, and he puts a hand on the back of his neck "I usually ask Karasu to help me dry my hair, but he went to practice. I wanted to ask Charles but he went to sleep, from what I understand" he says

Why are you thinking what you're thinking. What the fuck is going on with you to even think about asking him?. You should seriously visit a specialist, because it is impossible that just seeing him like this has given you all this courage, so much so that it overshadows the hatred you feel for him

"What if I helped you?"

——— THIRD

You shake your hand through the boy's hair, trying to see where it's still wet. The pink strands seem more faded now that they're in front of you, and you wonder when the last time he got his signature pink color was. You don't even know how you ended up in this situation, even though you explicitly asked to help him

Maybe you missed the feeling of being close to him, but admitting it would be like a defeat for yourself. So, inside, you say that it was just a kind act in a moment of kindness. And then, Shidou is surely going through a moment of simple kindness too: according to your reasoning, he should hate you too. This is just a moment of pause between the two of you, and when you're done, everything will be the same as before: just people who can't stand each other, linked by Charles exclusively as divorced parents

"Aren't you tired?" he asks, after a long time of being silent; tired? You could literally lie down on the floor right now and fall asleep immediately "No. I'm not" you say, because admitting it would be like handing him the fact that you have a limit on a silver platter. He chuckles to himself, but you don't bother asking yourself why: after all, he's Shidou, he does a lot of things for no reason behind it. The sound of the hair dryer echoes in the boy's room for a while longer, until you feel his hair finally dry. You indulge a little in touching it, because it is definitely softer than you ever imagined. Shidou gets up from the chair, walks towards the mirror and you watch him as he touches his hair, perhaps to check it. Next to his bed you notice a hair gel lotion, probably used for the usual hairstyle. "The pink streaks have faded a bit" you say, looking at him from a distance. This time it's you who speaks, and he turns to look at you for a few seconds, then looks at himself in the mirror again "I know"

You don't know why, but asking him seems like you've opened a conversation that you have to conclude. It's strange, because you have this impression with him since he was moved to the opposing team

"Aren't you going to get your hair colored again? Aren't you going to ask Anri for the dye?" you ask, getting closer, but you immediately stop, still keeping a little distance "I haven't gotten my hair colored in a while, maybe since before the game against Blue Lock"

Your heart skips a beat. If it's like he says, he hasn't had his hair dyed since you stopped doing it. It had become a habit of yours, after all

"I see" you stammer, suddenly feeling cramped in the large room "I think I'll go to my room" you say, and you scurry toward the exit door. Your cheeks are itchy with redness, and damn, why did you suddenly have this fucking reaction? He probably didn't do it again because he's busy with NEL games, you should consider yourself less important in other people's lives.

You walk down the empty hallway towards your room, when you hear Shidou pop out of his door again "Hey" he says, and you stop without turning around "What?" you ask "Do you like more my hair down or up?" he asks

"Down" you say

"I get it. See you, mother of the child"

Damn, he hadn't lost a bit of that side he knew made your knees weak. Fuck you, Shidou Ryusei

——— FOURTH

The folder in your hands is probably begging for mercy because of how tightly you're gripping it. NEL games always excite you, but watching the two current strongest teams clash is almost legendary. PxG has finally found a worthy opponent, who is giving them quite a few problems despite having some complete geniuses in their team: Rin Itoshi, Charles, Karasu Tabito... and, as much as I hated to admit it, Shidou himself was one of the strongest

"Are you sure the current formation is okay? Having Itoshi Rin so far forward could be a disadvantage for the defense" you say without taking your eyes off the game. Loki shakes his head, sitting next to you "The further back that boy is, the better. He must become a monster" he says confidently, and you can only accept his words and stay silent. The typical passages between Charles and Shidou begin, and from afar you can't help but admire them: even though they met for the first time months ago, they had a really efficient chemical reaction, something that not even other players have managed to have with the other external players

From a distance, they really do seem to have a relationship that goes beyond trust. Maybe not quite father and son, but more like older brother and younger brother. But by now, the idea of Shidou being Charles' father figure is so ingrained in your mind that the boy himself admits it from time to time. On the one hand, however, you are happy that the person who chose the blond is Ryusei. He is wild, loud, and outspoken. Charles is the same, and he needed someone who could understand him besides you, who however played more of a role in calming him down when he was at his best. If you and Shidou weren't in such a strange relationship, maybe you could have all spent more time together with Charles

The ball goes up in the air, Raichi Jingo of Bastard Munchen jumps to catch it. Shidou does the same, ending up bumping forehead to forehead with the other player. They both fall to the ground, and you immediately understand what is about to happen. Damn, him and his temper

"Don't even try" you say, walking briskly into the field. Shidou with an annoyed face has just gotten up from the ground, and from the way he moves you understand that he wants to grab Raichi by the collar and probably punch him. He notices you when you get closer, moving his hands away from where they were about to go, at the boy's neck "Huh?" he asks perplexed, as if he doesn't know

You don't even know why you're doing it, but when you heard the referee's whistle you relived a scene you've already seen. The last time something like this happened Shidou ended up playing against Blue Lock, and your relationship was ruined. It's like watching a movie on loop, but this time you want to change it

"If you punch him you'll get a red card, and you'll be lock off. Think about it, because I don't think you want to be" you say with a serious face, but with a hint of masked pity "You know too that you are at risk here, please don't make the same mistake from months ago" you say, and he seems seriously in difficulty in front of your words

"Why do you do this?" he asks, and you can't help but feel a little awkward. You don't want to tell him you're doing it because it would hurt to see him go away from you again, because you would still have to pretend to hate him even though you know you don't, and that it's just a way of putting it into practice because of his behavior since he came back, which has made you feel bad

"Because the team needs you. You have to stay here" you say, masking your words. Shidou sighs, looks at you, Raichi, then back at you; he walks away, returning to his starting position. You breathe a sigh of relief, and as you walk back to the bench you hear the whistle that signals the continuation of the match

You walk for a nanosecond next to Charles, who doesn't even look at you; but his words reach straight to your ears

"Evidently only ma mère can handle that demon"

——— FIFTH

The boy's calm breathing makes you smile almost spontaneously: seeing Charles so calm is strange, but satisfying. The little thread of drool that stains the pillow makes the scene even more tender than it already is, and your heart hurts a little to think that these are the last hours you spend with him. Because yes, tomorrow Charles will leave

The match ended with the teams drawing, which made both teams the two strongest in the NEL, which officially, has ended. From tomorrow the Blue Lock boys will have 6 weeks off and the foreign players will return home, to their countries so far away. Charles will return to France, to his home, with his real mother and his real father

From tomorrow, you will no longer have the usual annoying blond who calls you for everything, who always seeks your attention, who loves to be chased by you, who only listens to you, or almost. From tomorrow, the corridors of the french section will no longer have the laughter of the members and the smell of their bodies. From tomorrow, one of the most important chapters of your life will close

"Look, you can go to your room if you're sleepy. I don't think you can talk to Charles anymore even if you wanted to" says Shidou, sitting on the bed next to the blond boy "Don't worry" you say

Sitting on the boy's bed, you gently caress his head. After the game he specifically asked to spend the evening with both you and Shidou, and unable to refuse, you ended up in his dorm to spend the last hours with him. You had dinner together with some street food that you had brought from outside, making the boy happy

There is an awkward silence between you, while Charles snores lightly. Today's scene is still between you, which seems like yet another thing you have to conclude between you but which remains suspended in the air, like everything

Between you, everything started but never ended. You had started a relationship that never reached a decisive point because of his move to the U-20 team. You had started to have too much confidence between you, compared to everyone else. You had started, or rather, you had started, to believe that maybe with Ryusei it wasn't just friendship. But none of this was concluded, without a definitive answer

“Fuck” you say, your thoughts feeling a little too heavy for a moment like this, which should be focused solely on the fact that Charles won’t be here soon. You almost casually run your hand over your cheeks, finding them wet. Why? What?

"What the fuck is going on?" Shidou asks from the other bed, looking at your tears that haven't gone unnoticed. You look up, then look down almost immediately. You remain silent, even though you can still feel the tears silently falling

“I asked you what the fuck is going on” the boy asks again, getting up from the bed to sit on the floor next to Charles’ bed, his face inches from your knees. You don’t dare say anything, continuing to text the boy’s head as if you weren’t crying. It's just that everything that revolves around your relationship now seems to weigh more than it has in the past few months

“You say that like you care" you say proudly, sniffling as you glance over Charles’ sleeping face. “What’s wrong with you?” he huffs, resting his cheek against your knee “Don’t you think I should say it? Oh no, you rightly don’t give a shit. I don’t think you’ve ever actually cared, so I don’t see why you should start now all of a sudden” you roll your eyes, and for the first time you find yourself seriously explaining to him what’s been on your mind since this whole situation began

"I seriously don't know what's wrong with you, since I left you've become a different person" Shidou says sighing, and just hearing him speak makes you want to bang his head against the wall until he bleeds: how stupid must he be to not have understood that you're like this because of him?. Where is the Shidou who was always explosive with you but with a touch more affection than the others? What happened to the one you thought you seriously had a crush on?

Where did go the Shidou Ryusei you knew?

"Shit, I really don't know why I'm reacting like this. It's something I'm used to now and maybe thinking that tomorrow Charles will leave I've become more sensitive..." you say laughing sarcastically, even though you still have tears on your cheeks. The blond doesn't answer, continuing to remain a few inches from your leg while the only noise is the light snoring of the boy. "Can I ask you something?" the boy suddenly says, and you look at him a little perplexed. You nod. After all, they will be the same things you have already heard, the same ones he repeats to you so as not to make the strange situation between the two of you seem so obvious

"Can you talk to me honestly for a minute? Really, I need to know what's going on in your mind. I have my own thoughts, but I don't know yours" he says in one breath "because, let's be clear, we both know we don't talk to each other like we used to" he says, resting his mind on your knee, closing the distance that had been separating you for a few minutes now. You swallow a lump of saliva that is more bitter than usual, sighing and not knowing if you really want to talk

But you have to try. It's a 50-50 job, after all

"It's just... damn, I don't even know how to explain it to you in normal terms, because I don't even know how to explain it to myself. I just know that at some point you took another path and I continued on mine, but evidently you lack that path, because you've changed... changed too much, you're not the one I knew, or at least to me. You're still Shidou Ryusei to everyone in the Blue Lock, but to me? Why do we seem like two strangers, if you never treated me like a stranger before the match with the U-20?"

And finally, a part of your heart seems to have the ability to talk to the person directly concerned about everything that has been going through your mind for months. You speak, and each word seems to come out lighter than the last. Shidou looks at you, not daring to interrupt. He looks straight into your eyes, his pinks clashing with yours; it’s a gesture you’ve done a million times before, but why does it seem more human now? Maybe because you’re talking about something important again after months of silence?

"I think it was a situation mainly generated by the rivalry, well it's obvious, you remain a Blue Lock staffer and at the time I was a striker of an enemy team" says Shidou, his calm tone betrayed by a hint of uncertainty "It was natural to do what I did when I came back. On the field it's different, they can't judge me for my personality, but with you I don't kick a ball, and that's the problem" he admits, his gaze now focused on Charles "A problem?" you ask, widening your eyes, a little perplexed by his words "It's a problem. I don't care if that fanatic Rin Itoshi calls me 'bastard' during a game, or if Karasu doesn't pass me the ball in an assist, we're on the field. There's not always a field under my feet, especially when I'm talking to you who are like a bomb that's about to explode, because of me" he continue the conversation, and you start to connect some pieces of the puzzle that is slowly being put before your eyes

Maybe the situation is really deeper than you expected from someone like him. Maybe there really is something that was done by him just for a sensible reason, but just maybe

"What are you trying to tell me?" you say directly, and you see him laugh, almost sarcastically "Oh no, I won't say that out loud. Forget it" he says. "Ryusei, please" you say, practically begging him, and his resolve seems to waver "Shit, what am I supposed to tell you, what do I care what you think of me? That I seriously had a problem with how you were going to judge me after I came back from the match? Do you understand now?"

You would like to ask him to repeat the words, saying that you didn't understand them well, but you would be lying. His words, clear and strong, have arrived so directly in your ears that you suspect he is lying, because he is absolutely not the type to say things like that. Shidou Ryusei basically admitted that he cared about your judgment? He, who has nothing in the world to care about but himself?. "Oh" you just say, not finding the right words to say what you think, because it's too much even for you who are used to having discussions like that. Shidou looks at you, and noticing your embarrassment he lets out a light laugh "Oh? Oh, okay. Continue to pretend that I haven't practically exposed the most intimate part of myself to you" he says tilting his head, resting his cheek on your thigh

"No! It's just- shit, it's more complex than I could have imagined" you say, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself. You hear a light chuckle coming from the boy's direction "I'll pretend to understand. I just need to know that you hate me a little less now, or at least I hope so" he says confidently, and this time it's you who interrupts him "It's not that I hate you, I don't think I ever have actually. It's just that being pushed into a corner hurt more than it should have" you admit, feeling a little embarrassed to tell him so freely. This time he is the one who is left speechless, even though he tries to maintain the usual facade of calm. You look at each other, maybe for minutes; it seems as if, slowly, everything is having a logical thread that was missing for both of you to understand the situation completely

"Honestly, I don't want to give Charles divorced parents" Shidou says, and you laugh lightly at his joke, mentally thanking him for at least trying to make the situation lighter. "I don't think he ever had them. All parents fight" you say, returning your gaze to Charles, in the dream world; out of the corner of your eye you notice how Shidou is looking at him too, and by doing so you really do seem like a family. "Yeah. All parents fight" he repeats, and the silence that is created between you this time is decidedly less tense

"They fight because they love each other" Shidou adds, and you're a little taken aback by his statement, even though it sounds so damn innocent. But like this, in the situation you're in, he doesn't exactly play an innocent role. You sigh, moving your hand through his hair, caressing it a little uncertainly "Yeah. Because they love each other. In a way only of friendship, at least in our case" add a little hasty, while still feeling your heart beating in a way that is decidedly not just about friendship. What is this boy doing to you?

"No. Because they love each other, stop"

——— SIXTH

The already soaked handkerchief remains tightly held in your hands, yet you do everything you can not to cry in front of the boy, who for his part is completely calm if not just a little sorry "Don't do that, come on! Don't do that, ma mère" says Charles pulling your already wet cheeks "Stop it. Let me be the childish one between us for once" you say pulling him to you, trapping him in a hug while he continues to laugh. The bus is slowly filling up with all the french members, who will be returning to France in a few hours. You hug Charles, so tightly that it probably takes his breath away. You've grown so fond of him, and thinking that he won't be here this afternoon makes your heart ache. He's really become like your baby, in one way or another

"You don't have to go away and pretend you never met me, okay? You have my number and call me whenever you want, even if it's just to explain what you did in training or to tell me stupid things" you say putting your hands on his shoulders, faces facing each other. You see him nod, smiling "I get it. But you will pay the phone fee for calls overseas" he says, and you roll your eyes pretending to be annoyed, then hug him again. He has to leave, you know that I'm actually already late, but you're waiting. You wait, because you know that Shidou also wants to say goodbye to him. But where the fuck is he?

You look around, and only after a few seconds you feel someone touch your shoulder. You jump, but you see the blond at your side, one arm around your shoulders and one on the kid's shoulders, holding you close "Were you thinking of leaving without saying goodbye to your family?" he says sarcastically, and they both burst out laughing while you look at them smiling, wiping away a tear

"But really, Charles. No matter what, you have me, Shidou, you have us. You're still our little pain in the ass, but we love you" you tell the boy, and you see him smile genuinely for the first time. He nods, scratching his chubby cheek "I know, ma mère. I have a home in France as well as here in Japan, with you two. Don't tell me things I already know" he says, making you laugh. You all look at each other, and the weight of detachment seems to be a little lighter knowing that he knows he always has the two of you. You look at Charles, who suddenly turns towards Shidou "You promised me something. Do it" he says, and you look at them confused "Huh?" you say, but Shidou ignores you and looks at Charles "You'll be the first to know, don't worry about that, kiddo"

Julian Loki calls Charles. You hug for the last time, this time all together, and you say goodbye to him as he gets on the bus, trying to hold back the tears that start to fall spontaneously when the bus finally leaves. He's gone. Charles is gone

With your face even more full of tears you use the handkerchief, but it no longer has any effect. You notice later that Shidou's arm is still around your shoulders, as you walk back into the Blue Lock facility. But it's a nice feeling, with this sadness. You walk until you reach the corridor that separates the street of your room from that of the boys' dormitories, who will also leave the facility this afternoon to finally have some free time. You only now realize that you won't see Shidou for a while, just now that you have clarified

You stop, but you don't let go

“So...” he begins, keeping the hype high “Do you have anything to do on your weeks off?”

"No. I'm free practically every day"

"I think you have every day busy from now, until you get back here. Busy with me"

——— SEVENTH

— Charles, your mother is officially back with me. I'll tell you more when you get back here, but just know that I kept my promise to tell her how I feel about her. We miss you, kiddo — 18:09

delivered, not yet read

— I have to say that she kisses well too — 18:09

delivered, not yet read

[rottenpumpkin13]

Can Sephiroth and the others wish me a happy birthday?🥺

Zack: "Happy birthday! I hope you get at least a couple of presents you actually like. Not socks."

Angeal: "What? I thought you liked the fuzzy socks I got you for your birthday! You said they were the best gift ever."

Cloud: "Huh? Zack, you said the sweater I got you for your birthday was the best gift ever."

Zack: "I lie a lot."

Angeal, fuming: "Happy birthday. Remember to be grateful for the gifts you receive."

Cloud: "Uhh, happy birthday. I hope you have fun at your party."

Sephiroth: "Not everyone has a party, Strife. Have you considered that some people could spend their birthdays in a mako tank, and that the cold, cruel gaze of the scientist who placed you there mocks you as you fantasize about freedom as a hypothetical birthday gift?"

Genesis: "Happy birthday, may your soul be unshackled from this mortal plane before he speaks again."

[altocat]

I became fixated on Sephiorth’s hair while doing my own. Will you share your Sephiorth hair headcanons with me?

YESSS HAIR!!!!

Sephiroth's hair is very heavy. It would weigh down the average person considering there's so MUCH of it.

Sheds all over the place, too. It's never hard for Hojo to get a hair sample, sometimes not even having to pluck it directly from Sephiroth's head. If Sephiroth's been in the room, there's gonna be hair somewhere.

Most of Sephiroth's morning ritual consists of washing and tending to his hair. Brushing it out is one of the more relaxing aspects of his day.

On the weekend when he's more loose and casual, Sephiroth keeps it up in a ponytail, or a very loose braid of sorts.

Sleeping with Sephiroth is like sleeping in a furnace. There's so much hair that you might as well have skinned a grown-ass lion and huddled in its pelt. It's SWELTERING.

Sephiroth doesn't like a lot of aspects about his appearance. But he does have a healthy appreciation for his hair. And always does whatever he can to make sure it always looks its best.

Sometimes he stands in front of the mirror parting it and tying it up so he can mimic what he remembers of his mother's hairstyle from the locket

There are NO tangles in Sephiroth's hair. Ever. If he so much as catches the HINT of a tangle, it's meltdown-mode. He brushes it meticulously.

Sephiroth's hair gets dry miraculously quickly, a testament to his Jenova abilities. Even soaking wet, it floofs out again within a matter of minutes.

Sephiroth's hair is very, VERY soft. Even when it's messy. It's like touching spun silk.

He reserves the honor of brushing his hair to only his closest friends, which only includes Angeal and Genesis. But MOSTLY Genesis since the latter seems to relish it.

[hyperpotamianarch]

Pleasant music playing. The logo of Camp Nephillim appears on a sky-blue background. The logo is a tilted Star of David in which all the points are stylized as wings, with the words "Camp Nephilim" above and the Hebrew equivalent - "מחנה הנפילים" - below. Underneath the logo is a tagline - a quote from the Tanach.

The logo & background slowly fade. The music also fades, though a bit later than the logo.

[Setting: Int., an office of some sort. The back wall is covered with book shelves, with many of the books being in Hebrew - the Talmud, multi volume edition of the Tanach and such books. There's a table in the middle of the room. Behind it sits Tuvia Rosenbloom, an adult Jewish man with curly dark hair, a short beard and sharp green eyes. He wears a blue Camp Nephilim t-shirt, with a Tzitzit under it and a yarmulke on his head. He sports a friendly smile.]

Tuvia (with a noticable British accent): Shalom! Hello, and welcome to Camp Nephillim. I am Tuvia Rosenbloom, the camp councelor, and I'm here to explain to you about what this camp is and why you're here. Your journey here was likely shaking, so in the meanwhile take your time to relax and drink a cup of water while you're watching this orientation video. Please remember to say the blessing before!

[He lifts a cup of water, says the blessing and drinks before continuing]

Tuvia (cont.): So, first thing first: you should know that many thing that you may have thought were merely myth are, in fact, quite real. This includes angels and demons - though they aren't exactly the same as you might've imagined them. No, the whole "Biblically Accurate Angels" meme wouldn't prepare you enough either. Angels can also sometimes appear differently than their natural form, and can even seem like regular humans. They sometimes fall in love with humans, which is how most Nephilim come to be.

[Tuvia's office disappears, to show instead a Chumash opened in the Book of Genesis, chapter 6]

Tuvia (cont.): What are the Nephilim? Well, as the Torah says,

"It was then, and later too, that the Nephilim appeared on earth—when divine beings cohabited with the human women, who bore them offspring. Such were the heroes of old, the men of renown."

[Setting returns to Tuvia's office]

Tuvia (cont.): So, those are the Nephilim, then: children of Divine beings and humans, who are heroes and men of renown. And you are likely one of them.

[Tuvia takes another sip from his cup, then sets it aside]

Tuvia (cont.): You might need some time to digest that, feel free to pause the video for a few minutes. Getting back on topic, though: you are, likely, the child of a divine being. If you always grown with a single parent who only rarely reminisced of another parent you don't know what happened to them - you are likely a Naphil. It may grant you certain abilities relating to the position your divine parent served in the universe. Note, however, that those divine beings aren't gods. We do not worship them or offer them sacrifices, even as mediators between as and G-d. Some of those Divine Beings do like to consider themselves gods and were worshipped by old civilizations - the Greek and Norse pantheons, for example. That doesn't make them any more gods than the Angels known in Jewish lore - they are merely forces. Powerful, but not omnipotent.

[Tuvia pauses for a moment, letting that sink in]

Tuvia (cont.): There are other types of people who might find their way to Camp Nephilim, however. Perhaps you were training in magic under the Egyptian ḥartumim of Per Ankh and felt uncomfortable during Passover; maybe you studied under the tutelage of the Chaldeans in New Jersey, and they were harsh on you during Tisha b'Av; or maybe you were either born with the Re'iyeh, the Sight, or were granted it by an experiment gone wrong. I, personally, am descended from one of the few Jewish bloodlines that inherited the Re'iyeh from one of our ancestors. We can see the hidden world, and the threats within... and they tend to look back. Which leads us to demons.

[Tuvia leans back in his chair, putting his hands together]

Tuvia (cont.): It is important to remember that Demons - or Shedim, as they are known in Hebrew - aren't what you've come to expect from beings with such a name. They aren't evil monsters, hell-bent on tempting you to sin. Rather, they are... adjacent beings to us, not dissimilarly to elves or goblins in modern popular media. However, they are nothing like you may have come to expect from elves of the Tolkeinian kind. They are wilder than them, and prone to hurt humans. They aren't always murderous or impossible to reason with either. Some of them, like our lore instructor Yonatan Shida, are rather friendly. Many of them crave blood, though, and nothing is tastier to them than the blood of the Nephilim, or other humans capable of seeing them. They live in the edges of society and can feel when someone is looking at them. And when you do... when you acknowledge seeing them... you become fair play.

[Tuvia returns to his previous posture, lifts his cup and takes another sip]

Tuvia (cont.): You likely had a significant encounter with Shedim, or maybe other types of monsters, on your way here - but it probably wasn't your first time seeing them. It might have been a man who, upon a second look, had chicken legs. Perhaps you could've sworn that a weird stranger who seemed to follow you had two heads. You may have seen a horse fly on the horizon, or encountered a tall person with an umbilical cord tying them to the ground on a field trip. They were less of a threat to you back then. But yo have grown, and your powers and abilities grew with you - along with the Shedim's ability to sense you. They will be coming for you - which is why you're here. Camp Nephilim is a place for Jewish Nephilim and Ba'alei Shem to train. To get used to the powers granted to us by virtue of our parentage or via other means. We're not the only place for such training; Camp Half-Blood in Long Island offers training for children of entities from the Greek Pantheon, while the 21 Nome of the House of Life in Brooklyn offers training in Egyptian magic, and the Chaldean school in Jersey City will train you in the Mesopotamian vain. None of those, however, is built with Jews in mind: the worship of pagan gods is common in all these places. They don't supply you with Kosher food, tend to not care for our holidays and often enough rife with latent antisemitism. We offer a Jewish alternative - no matter what is your level of observance or what congregation you belong to, you can be sure we have here at least one synagogue you can daven at and one you'd never set foot in. We do not worship any god but G-d here - you can honor your parents in ways fitting the traditions of the Torah, but even if a divine parent asks of you to worship them you are not required to. Another difference between us and the other Camps and Schools is that you aren't trained to slay Shedim here. You're trained to keep them at bay, imprison them if necesarry. Unlike other monsters, Shedim die like humans do, and so killing them should be only taken as a last resort: if your life are in danger you should kill whoever threatens you, but otherwise killing Shedim is like murder. We would ask you to refrain from doing that unless necessary.

[Tuvia gets up]

Tuvia (cont.): That is it for the orientation video for now. Further explanations on your sleeping arrangemnt and schedules will be given to you when you exit the room. Welcome to Camp Nephilim! We hope you enjoy your time with us.

[Outro music playing, the picture of Tuvia's office is replaced by the blue background with the Camp's logo to the side while the credits are shown on screen]

———

Writer wishes to note he knows nothing about writing stage instructions.

[toopimpabutterfly]

Nightangel but as in Warren though having an outward angelic appearance is flawed and broken, easy to succumb to temptation and his own morals of right and wrong, a man who will not be willing to say revenge isn't worth it. A man who self mutilated himself from a young age trying to hide himself, a man of raw emotions, left split from his teenage years and then Kurt.

Kurt who is a man of greater faith than Warren, who I'd believe would be more spiritual than religious, he sees people to be redeemed and redempted. He admires Warren as a angel at first but throughout their time getting older he sees how flawed Warren is and how broken he is and Kurt doesn't care, doesn't care that an angel is so similar to everyone else. Kurt who wants to hold and love him for him, that final moment where everything clicks and there's peace. Though his outward demonic image to some he is trying.

Warren 100% gets diagnosed with some mental problems down the line considering his self hatred he'd have at a young age, a hate for his family, and his own self worth. Anyways I have an au about these two that idk if I want to actually draw our or write but I'll continue down here, these are some key points I have in my mind

So Warren's doctors knew from a young age he had the X Gene and such, he got it through his mother who in this AU of mine is Native. So yes Warren is mixed ❤️ jus light skin ANYWAYS, he's caught cutting his wings and ripping into his skin, this leads to a hospital visit, a long argument, ect.

Warren's mother has a mental breakdown and is deemed clinically insane and sent away/or in another draft kills herself one day while Warren is at school, returns to her dead (?) ((not very sure yet)) this leads to him not being able to remember her face for a very long time from trauma.

At 16-18 Warren is 'sent to a boarding school' aka just bluntly kicked out to fend for himself as he's been doing vigilante work, during this time he meets Kurt who's also doing similar work.

They form a duo and an odd bond, Warren believes some people cannot be redeemed, Kurt believes otherwise. Also if Warren's mother really does kill herself in the final draft he will have the gun she killed herself with on him as part of what he uses. Cuz. Why not! My favorite comics are Preacher and Hellboy. What'd you expect?

Another key plot point would be Warren having a mental breakdown and returning home to try and kill his dad, Kurt needs to make a choice here and I have two ideas for this plot area

Kurt assists in the murder to comfort and quell Warren, Kurt helps Warren calm down who can't pull the trigger on the man who hurt him and he doesn't understand why he can't

Some other funsies, they're 100% trauma bonded👅❤️, they admire each other's scars and their bodies, matching tattoos 100%, probably would be based on the 90s for the more grungy edgy aesthetic

Warren's trans what'd you expect tf

The name that's really sticking in my mind is Genesis for the idea of the project lmao

[prismaticpichu]

I’m curious!!!~

‼️ Things to Consider!! ‼️

• Sephiroth can still go insane, even if Gen & Angeal are around (tho it would prolly be tougher!)

• Hojo’s existence is pretty essential to Seph’s existence shshshshshhd (do you REALLY not want Seph to exist? 🤣 Remember: he ain’t evil yet in these hypotheticals!!)

• Cloud would never have his amazing adventure of healing/wear a dress if nothing goes wrong

• Seph would never meet Angeal or Gen should he never join ShinRa :,3 (unless he moves to Banora ig lol!)

Just a little fun lol!! <333 Try not to view it too much as “nooo stupid mouse lady doesn’t understand the narrative beauty of all their fates being cursed” (bc, really, option 4 is very valid!!!) 💕

[thatgentlewife]

Living a Slow and Purposeful Life as a Christian 🍲✨☕️🌷

In today’s world, we are often told to do more, achieve more, and be more. Social media can amplify this pressure, showing us glimpses of others’ seemingly perfect lives, accomplishments, and busyness. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking we’re falling behind or not doing enough. But as Christians, we’re called to live differently. Our purpose isn’t found in worldly achievements but in living a life that glorifies God and reflects His peace.

Here are some ways to live a slower, more purposeful life centered on Christ:

1. Prioritize Time with God

Start and end your day with God. Spend unhurried time reading the Bible, praying, and meditating on His Word. This sets the tone for a day that’s focused on Him rather than your to-do list. Jesus Himself often withdrew to quiet places to pray (Luke 5:16).

Tip: Use a physical Bible instead of a Bible app to avoid distractions from notifications.

2. Focus on Relationships, Not Tasks

It’s easy to get caught up in rushing through our days, but Jesus teaches us to prioritize people over productivity. He stopped to heal, listen, and minister to others, even when He was busy. Make time to truly connect with others—family, friends, coworkers—and show them Christ’s love.

Tip: Schedule margin into your day so you have time to respond to others without feeling overwhelmed.

3. Simplify Your Life

Examine your commitments and let go of activities or responsibilities that don’t align with your God-given purpose. Overcommitting often leads to stress and distracts from what truly matters.

Tip: Ask yourself, Does this glorify God or bring me closer to Him? If not, it might be time to let it go.

4. Be Intentional with Social Media

Social media can create a false sense of urgency and comparison, making us feel like we’re behind in life. Limit your time online and follow accounts that inspire your faith, not your insecurities.

Tip: Set specific times for social media use and consider a day of fasting from it each week to refocus on God.

5. Embrace Rest as a Gift from God

God created us to rest. He rested on the seventh day (Genesis 2:2-3) and commands us to do the same. Rest isn’t laziness; it’s obedience and trust that God is in control. Take time to slow down, enjoy creation, and recharge.

Tip: Create a restful Sabbath routine that includes worship, prayer, and activities that refresh your soul.

6. Live in the Present Moment

Jesus told us not to worry about tomorrow because each day has enough trouble of its own (Matthew 6:34). When we rush through life, we miss the beauty of the present. Ask God to help you be fully present, whether you’re spending time with loved ones or doing mundane tasks.

Tip: Practice gratitude by pausing throughout the day to thank God for His blessings.

7. Let Go of Perfectionism

We often rush because we’re striving for perfection or trying to meet unrealistic expectations. Remember that your worth comes from Christ, not your accomplishments. Rest in His grace and allow yourself to slow down.

Tip: Replace thoughts of “I should be doing more” with the truth: God’s grace is sufficient for me (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Final Thought

Living a slow and purposeful life as a Christian isn’t about doing less; it’s about doing what matters most. When we make God the center of everything we do, we can step off the treadmill of busyness and embrace the abundant life He offers. Let go of the rush, and let His peace guide your steps.

“Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

With love,

Thatgentlewife

[dusk-legion-diplomacy]

You have mentioned the nobility if your plane of Innistrad also being of a vampiric inclination. The one who wrote to me expressed fears of becoming a blood thrall should he find a way to us. I assume they are of a more... self-serving sort rather than self-sacrificing? Do they have a guiding faith, or are they fractured and distant?

" Self-serving..... Yes, that Is how we could describe the vampires of our planes. They presume to be the "guardians of humanity", of having sacrificied their mortality in exchange of an eternal life of servitude. Pure falacies.

For a long time, the duty of the Curch, es to protect the Strissian from the machinations and games of the vampires. They not longer see us as equals. We are like sheeps to them, our only purpose is being their food.

I think that I can better showcase their selfishness, trought the tale of their origin, as common knowlege among the Strissian, whose differents villages had long ago being slaved by them. The primogenitor of the vampires, was a noble Strissian called Edgar Markov.

An famine sweeped the land of Strissian, so he searched for a means of inmortality, wich would save his house from hunger. An demon, Shilgengar gave him the answer: Angel's blood. Indeed, the Origin of the vampires was marked by an act of blaphemy, betrayal againt the angels and their peasants, selling them to the demon.

Once Markov drank the elixir with eleven associates, they founder the twelve vampires linneages who terrorize the mens and womes of Innistrad.

About their faith. The tought humour me. These creatures are harmed by the symbols of Avancyn and everything that Is Holy. Faith Is an Anathema to them.

Indeed, they are factured into the twelve linneages, each one fortunatly suffering for each disasterd that fell innistrad, making at least three of them extinct. Tought someof these linneages do have religions.

The linneages of Domnathi commune and worship demons, making them an great danger to even their Fellowes vampires. Once considered an minor linneages, the fall of the Major ones could allow them to have a major presence in the world.

The Linneages of the Stromkirk are the most "supersticioso and religious" of the Major linneages. It Is rumoured that His founder mingle with the pagans cult of Nephalia. Their object of worship, being ancients Powers from the deseos of the sea.

I must ask, who was the progenitor of your kind? Or rather, who was the one who free you from Aclazotz's chains?"

---Guvel, Monk of the Order.

The genesis of the vampires of Innistrad is a fascinating thing. Pacts with demons, drinking the blood of angels, the different bloodlines... I can see some similarities to how we function, though it gladdens me that we have not sunk so low. My deepest apologies for having to deal with such barbarism and heathenry. I now see why the human in your flock was so cautious.

Our progenitor is, by technicality, Aclazotz, though in reality it is Saint Elenda the First. She was the first vampire to grace the plane. How and why she did that will require a deeper explanation, so forgive me if this missive becomes a bit lengthy.

In our more ancient past, almost a thousand years ago, there was a monastery that guarded an object known as the Immortal Sun. It was an object of supreme power and it became a venerated religious artifact. The guardians of the Sun would eventually come to form the Legion of Dusk, and Saint Elenda was among the nuns within.

A jealous and terrible ruler by the name of Pedron, remembered as Pedron the Wicked, attacked the monastery. After his forces retreated was when the winged beast struck, stealing away the Sun. The Saint -- not yet a Saint, mind you -- gave chase, leaving behind her home to seek the Immortal Sun. In her time away, Torrezon, not yet the continent-spanning kingdom we are today, fell into civil war.

Most of the continent was blind to the struggles happening within Alta Torrezon, but for two and a half centuries there was a period of intense fighting over dominion of Torrezon. This war was started after a monarch failed to name a clear successor, and three children -- the eldest daughter, who claimed the capital city, and her two younger brothers -- broke out into war. The brothers are remembered as the Apostacine Princes, and we call the conflict the Apostacine War.

Elenda's arrival ended the war.

She came wreathed in divine majesty, faster than any man, more lethal on her own than any blade brought to bear before her. In my less coherent moments, I once recounted her as having "nails like lightning's edge" and standing "nine feet tall". But she was able to drive back the initial vanguard forces that had set their sights on Alta Torrezon alone. When the fighting was over, she explained who she was, and explained how she was able to survive throughout the centuries.

She had taken on dark magic in order to turn herself into a vampire in order to seek the Immortal Sun. The monarch and pontifex understood this as being a holy and blessed sacrifice, and Elenda began to teach the Rite to the nobility and those of the derived monastic order she came from. From there, the Legion of Dusk was formed, and the Church of Dusk formed around her. I was one of the earliest to take the Rite of Redemption, and I even watched her as she sailed back west to find the Sun again.

Where and how she learned to transform herself had been obscured by the church for centuries. I only became Pontifex very recently -- shortly after I was returned to Torrezon after being a political prisoner of the Sun Empire and fighting alongside them when the Phyrexians attacked -- and so I did not understand the full truth until recently. She did, indeed, learn her Rite from Aclazotz, but she also understood the danger presented if the god was fully awakened and freed. She had only communed with a splinter of his being. He was still imprisoned deep below Ixalan, within its Core, slumbering. The Invasion had allowed him to awaken and he has been calling for his so-called "children" ever since.

We are not yet freed from the influence of our "patron". Even I feel the stirrings within my very soul trying to call me to his side. The Saint and I are constantly working to ensure the faithful remain strong enough to resist him while we search for solutions on how to deal with him. It is difficult, but not impossible.

With all of this being said, I now have some questions for you. It has been brought to our attention that your order has some form of practice where you allow yourself to become possessed by spirits. I am curious to hear more about such a rite and how it is even done. We have shade-binders among the condemners here, but we do not entertain the thought of allowing them to control our bodies.

Yours faithfully,

-Pontifex Mavren Fein

[buffaloborgine]

Before reading, I want to emphasize, I don't hate Sephiroth as a character, I hate how some people dismiss all of his heinous acts and cling to "He is a victim" and shove the tragedy he caused onto other characters. About that one post about Sephiroth and someone replying to it, let me be clear: I don't deny Sephiroth was a victim. Like many, he was the victim of Shinra and Hojo, that's undeniable. But to write like he is a good person and all the bad things he did were influenced by his upbringing? NO. Sephiroth is selfish, and no matter what you try to bend the narrative to fit your imagination, it is a fact. When the theme of FFVII is about "imagination/illusion", if we use the structure of protagonist vs antagonist, Cloud is the one that was affected by the illusion but he accepted help from others and got over it. Sephiroth would simply be the reversed version of that, he wasn't even illusioned, he knew for sure what he is but deciding that it was better for him if everyone else, and even himself stayed in that illusion forever. Sephiroth wasn't the only character to be affected by Shinra's evilness, but then let's take a look at those who also were affected: - Zack once learned and accepted that Shinra is evil had started running away with Cloud. - Angeal and Genesis don't share the same reaction but eventually once accepted the truth, they both rebelled against Shinra (also Lazard). - The Turks and Rufus are easy to see, I don't need to explain. - The massacred 1st SOLDIER unit mentioned in Dirge of Cerberus, fighting against the creation of inhuman Deepground facility. - Deepground themselves, they know what they are and they fought against Shinra, knowing they would even die if they do. So many would say, but Sephiroth does disobey Shinra and that he wanted to leave Shinra. Vetoing orders onto co-workers' heads doesn't seem to be a good way to protest, rather that's just push the responsibility onto others. And about "wanting to leave Shinra", as far as I remember, Sephiroth just said he would consider the idea, not that he would ever leave, and even till the event of Nibelheim, he didn't leave Shinra, not at all. So let's put this together, should we just see Sephiroth as a victim and say he isn't accounted for other tragedy happened in FFVII? Personally? Of course not. There are other victims and they fought back their abuser in different ways, maybe causing mayhem on the route but they still fought for their freedom. Sephiroth has never once given a single thought for others, and he was comfortable staying in Shinra, after all, he got the privilege for 1st Class, can veto orders and get admired by other SOLDIERs. To debunk people who claim that Sephiroth was thoughtful about Genesis' injury: Who was the one causing that mess in the first place? And even when you look at the cutscene, it was less of caring thought but more of "Why I am inadequate for this?" If he was sincere, he would have gone to check on Genesis later, but nope, he assumed Genesis was fine, like really, what kind of friend is that? No fucking friend would just assume friend is fine knowing they are hurt, no fucking friend would just condemn friends as traitor while not knowing the reason why they leave, and no fucking friend would keep their friends in the dark while knowing they are being tricked, abused. In conclusion, please stop saying Sephiroth is a good friend to anyone. If he cannot earn Zack's forgiveness, he is a prick, but if even Weiss stood against him (in DFFOO), consider he surely won't get any redemption.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice. 

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave. 

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

[hendersister]

that's all

summary: steve is concerned when he finds out that you're going to start tutoring billy.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: that's all by genesis

You’ve just finished grabbing some books out of your locker before first period starts. You close your locker and turn to see Steve Harrington approaching you. Your eyes widen. What is he doing here?

Even though you and Steve had become friends while you helped save the world last fall, you both still mainly stick with your different cliques during school hours. Steve’s social status has gone down a bit over the past year, but he’s still popular. He just won “Best Hair” in his senior class superlatives. Steve is one of the cool kids and you definitely are not. As president of the National Honor Society, a tutor and only girl in the school’s Mathlete team, you are considered a nerd in the Hawkins High social hierarchy. It’s all very The Breakfast Club.

“Hey Steve! What’s going on? You lost?” you joke.

Steve’s locker is at the other side of the school. This is the first time Steve’s visited you at your locker.

“What? No!” Steve shakes his head, and then, “Hendseron told me that you’re gonna start tutoring Billy Hargrove. Is it true?”

You nod. The only reason you were assigned to be Billy’s tutor is because you’re the best tutor at this school. Billy is on academic probation and needs to get his grades up if he wants to play on the basketball team next season. In rural Indiana, high school basketball means everything. You didn’t really have a choice in the matter. If you said no, you mostly likely would’ve faced some repercussions. 

“Yeah. He was just assigned to me. We have our first tutoring session tomorrow during study hall,” you explain.

Steve sighs. He looks concerned.

“C’mon, Y/N, do you really think that’s a good idea? Billy’s an asshole. Remember when he got violent with the kids? I mean, Billy’s a piece of shit…” 

You take a deep breath. Remember when he got violent with the kids? Of course you remember! How could you forget? Billy attacked Dustin’s friend Lucas at the Byers’ house a few months ago. He was scary and aggressive. Steve had to intervene to protect Lucas and the rest of the kids. The fight between Billy and Steve was rough. Steve lost that fight but won your respect. You were impressed and proud of Steve for keeping the kids safe.

“Yeah I know,” you quietly agree, “It’s not like I asked to tutor Billy. Mr. Carpenter assigned him to me…”

“Can’t you just ask Mr. Carpenter to assign him to someone else?” Steve tries.

You shake your head.

“No,” you answer coolly, “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m meeting Billy in the library. He won’t get violent in a public place.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Steve mumbles. He sounds uneasy.

You roll your eyes.

“Relax! I’m just tutoring Billy. It’s not like we’re eloping to Vegas or anything.”

“I’m not joking, Y/N!” Steve shrugs.

“I’m not laughing, Steve,” you brush off his concern, “Why do you care so much?”

Steve scrunches his forehead, confused.

“What?” 

You cross your arms against your chest.

“Why do you care if I tutor Billy or not?” you question him.

“Dustin was worried,” Steve gives you a non-answer.

“And you?” you keep pushing.

“I’m… I’m just trying to look out for you because… Dustin asked me to,” Steve stumbles through his response.

You raise your eyebrows. 

“That’s all?” 

Steve is quiet for a beat. Deep down he knows the truth but he’s not ready to admit it to himself just yet. Steve really cares about you. He’s trying to convince you not to tutor Billy because he’s trying to protect you. Steve doesn’t trust Billy and he doesn’t want you to get hurt. 

"Yeah, yeah that's all," Steve sighs.

You shrug, unconvinced. Since becoming friends with Steve, you’ve felt a spark between you two. You’re starting to believe that Steve feels the electricity too. But he won’t act on it. He’s an athlete and you’re a mathlete. And even though Steve is set to graduate soon, he still takes the high school social hierarchy seriously.

“Look, I appreciate the concern but I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for a long time now…” you tell him.

Steve nods his head, defeated. He leaves without another word. You watch Steve go. After a beat, you turn and walk away in the opposite direction.

[sycamoretrees]

wrestling 2024 tag meme

inspired by the ShuPro awards and my struggle to remember what I've actually I've watched this year, I thought it would be cool to have a year-end wrestling round-up.

I would love for anyone else to also do this! Everyone's experience of wrestling is so unique and I'd love to read about everyone's different wrestling ~journeys in 2024. You do not need to write this much lol. Tagging with no pressure @benchwarming @thistledropkick @yoshihashismattebum @wrestleish but forreal anyone who wants to do this consider yourself tagged!

Please tag me if you do it or use the tag '#wrestling 2024 tag meme' so I can see them 🤗

MVP/Wrestler of the Year

Match of the Year

Favourite Feud

Favourite Tag Team/Faction

Favourite Show

Breakout (ish) Star

Horniest Moment

Most Anticipated in 2025

[NB - I'm more interested in recording my specific experience of wrestling this year rather than the actual chronological wrestling year of 2024, so if I saw a match for the first time this year, or got to know someone new, I'm counting them. Confusing? Yes! You do you.]

MVP/Wrestler of the Year

El Desperado (NJPW). This was tough. My rationale was - who was I consistently excited to see on any card and can I think of multiple specific great matches they had off the top of my head (my recall for specific matches is very bad). From Wrestle Kingdom with Hiromu, to his Super Juniors match with Fujita, to the Despe Invi, to his DDT match with Chris Brookes, Despe has been my number one guy in 2024. Runners Up: Konosuke Takeshita, Gabe Kidd

Match(es) of the Year

In no particular order: Shibata vs Okada (NJPW Sakura Genesis 2017) - obviously this is an 8 year old match now, but I watched it for the first time this year, and it is not at all overrated. Unreal.

Hiromu Takahashi & Jun Kasai vs Minoru Suzuki & Takayuki Ueki (NJPW Despe Invitacional) - an absolutely perfect comedy hardcore match.

El Desperado vs Chris Brookes (DDT Wrestle Peter Pan) - the storytelling they manage to pack into this match is incredible. Intensely romantic, erotic, funny, a visual delight.

Gabe Kidd vs Kenny Omega (NJPW/AEW Wrestle Dynasty) - recency bias perhaps, but contextually one of the most interesting and impactful matches of the year (I'm counting it for 2024 don't @ me).

Hirooki Goto vs David Finlay (NJPW King of Pro-Wrestling) - kind of a wildcard pick but I remember having a fucking blast. Finlay is my favourite guy to watch get flung into barricades, and his 'I didn't win the G1 and it only exacerbated my crushing insecurity because I know I'm not as good as Jay White so I'm gonna go after a bunch of easy wins to try to feel like a big man' tour peaked for me with this match.

Favourite Feud

Toni Storm and Mariah May (AEW) - easily the best women's feud AEW have ever done, for me one of the best storylines period. Toni Storm's character work this year was exquisite, and she and Mariah (and Mina Shirakawa) absolutely killed this narrative arc. In a promotion that increasingly felt like it wasn't For Me this year, this feud was For Me.

Favourite Tag Team/Faction

The Bang Bang Gang (AEW). Look, the Bang Bang Gang profoundly overdeliver in almost all regards, they are consistently entertaining and they commit to the bit. Also NJPW is having a such a weird faction time rn and I'm just not really a tag team person.

Favourite Show

Despe Invitacional (NJPW). A truly joyful show from start to finish, warm and fun and excited and exciting. Runner up: Beer Garden Fight in Shinjuku Day 2, the show that made me fall in love with DDT.

Special Mention: AEW Grand Slam, the most fun I had watching a show because I went to see it live with @benchwarming.

Breakout (ish) Star

Yuki Ueno (DDT). Ueno is obviously not any kind of rookie, but I only became really familiar with him this year, and to me (and ZSJ) he's the most exciting young wrestler in Japan. I can't get over how good he is at, well, everything. Runners up: Taichi (took me a minute but I realised just how good Taichi is this year, his pre-G1 matches were incredible), Takeshi Masada, Yuya Uemura

Horniest Moment

GIF by schadentekkers

i mean. This wasn't a tough call. The first time I saw this match (El Desperado vs Chris Brookes, DDT Wrestle Peter Pan) I had to pause it and yell inside my own t shirt for several moments, and it hasn't become any less insane after the third rewatch. And like, I'm not even counting the Just Straight Up Kink nipple stuff after this, but uh also that!!

Most Anticipated In 2025

Gabe Kidd was one my standouts when I started watching NJPW with the 2023 G1, and it's been a delight to watch him progress and develop. Obviously he's poised to step up even more in 2025... I'm here for it.

Taichi vs Sanada is coming and I'm so fucking seated.

The NJPW junior heavyweight division has a bunch of super talented guys and exciting stories right now, and if everyone can just stop getting injured I think there's a ton of fun to be had there.

And then IDK if 'anticipation' is the word but - I'm very curious to see what happens with Shota Umino. Been kind of a brutal year for him, and I personally feel like there MUST be some kind of change coming? Either way, I have no idea where he'll sit in the NJPW landscape this time next year.

Oh also I really fucked my own enjoyment of the G1 this year between getting obsessed with Walker's terrible commentary and getting stressed about the G1 art project I decided to do 'for fun' (hence no G1 matches included in my favourites even though I remember several of them being very good) so uh would love to enjoy the G1 this year.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Shinra is trying to force people to dress more appropriately for the work place, especially when they AREN’T ON A MISSION — PUT A SHIRT ON YOU ARE DISTRACTING THE DESK WORKERS!

Anyway. Shinra now has on its calendar a weekly “Dress for Success” day to promote productivity in the office.

Everyone (purposefully or accidentally) misunderstands the assignment. Everyone decides to dress like Sephiroth, with a few exceptions sprinkled in.

Even some of the Turks.

Reactions? Who is the odd man out? Did anyone wear normal office apparel?

*Most SOLDIERs are dressed as Sephiroth, including Angeal, who's having a blast bending the rules until he sees Zack*

Angeal: WHY are you wearing a chicken costume?

Zack: Remember when I got my first Second Class paycheck?

Angeal: Yeah?

Zack: And I bought this exact chicken costume?

Angeal: Yeah...

Zack: And you lectured me for an hour about being financially irresponsible and claimed I would never wear it?

Angeal, sighing: Yeah.

Zack: And then you went a step further by betting me 1000 gil that I would never wear it?

Angeal: Yeah.

Zack: Well, I consider proving you wrong a huge success. Now pay up!

*Genesis walks in wearing an elegant maroon suit*

Genesis: All you people cosplaying as Sephiroth look ridiculous idolizing a man who bears his tits freely.

Zack: What are you supposed to be?

Genesis: Nothing says success better than my own wardrobe.

*Angeal rips his blazer open to reveal a Silver Elite T-shirt underneath*

Genesis:

Angeal:

Zack:

Genesis: COUNTERFEIT SEPHIROTH, CHICKEN COSTUME. YOU REALLY WANT TO ARGUE?

*Sephiroth walks in wearing regular clothes—a simple sweater, jeans, and sneakers*

Zack: Huh?? What are you wearing?

Sephiroth: I'm dressed as the most successful thing a man can be.

Sephiroth: I'm a regular civilian who comes from a loving home.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 20

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 20.

Rory didn’t feel great about spying on their calls.

He didn’t feel great about it…but he still did it.

He was at times an optimist, often reckless, but not a fool.

From his seat on the deck, the holographic screen showed him their movements in his system. It hadn’t taken them long to sneak back into the controls of his ship and Rory hadn’t been the least bit surprised. He’d been ready.

A twinge of guilt cut through his chest when he watched their call to their friend. It hadn’t bothered him in the beginning but spying was starting to feel…wrong. To be fair, they were the one sneaking around in his ship’s system, ready to take control if needs be. Still, this felt dirty. Maybe he’d bring it up? Just tell them flat out that he knows they’re in there?

“If you have to, you could use that pretty bounty hunter for a decoy. It might buy you enough time to get away if Genesis corners you,” their friend said.

Rory stopped swiveling and looked at the image of the beautiful man in diamonds. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or incredibly disturbed. He wished he could see Stardust’s reaction.

When they replied, their voice was steady. “You’d make a good Solinoh.”

Rory curled a lip. What had he expected? Primers. It wasn’t even their fault. No one could trust anyone past the edge. Wasn’t that why he’d made it so easy for them to hijack his ship? To let them think they could take over any second, when in reality, he’d block them out the second they tried—and the attempt would trigger a full lockdown on their room and all access panels outside the deck. They didn’t trust him and he didn’t trust them.

That was fine. They just needed to get to that treasure in one piece and then they could part ways. He’d just have to make sure they didn’t double-cross him before then or steal his damn ship again when they managed to get the loot.

The call ended. The holograph became a blank glow of pale light between him and the stars.

And then they pulled up their video messages.

Rory didn’t even consider turning it off. He needed to know what they were up to before they got the better of him. He tried to imagine them betraying him—putting a bullet in him—but it seemed too impossible. Stardust was so nice. They were a goof. But then he remembered how easily they’d dropped those mercs on the station.

Solinoh.

A man appeared on the screen, beautiful like the one in diamonds—because of wealth and design. Was that what made Stardust so beautiful? They had the perfection of carefully designed genetics, and treated skin and hair. They had a careless grace and deftness of skills trained into their body since youth. But no… That wasn’t what made Stardust hard to look away from. It was that smile and the cunning glint in their eyes.

“If you surrender, I’ll let them live,” the man on the screen said. He spoke so slowly and comfortably that for a second Rory forgot it was a recorded message and not a live call. This was Genesis Solinoh. Rory had looked him up and sifted through some of the thousands of photos, articles, and recordings of him.

“If you don’t—If you put your hands on the—” he started to say and then thought better of it. After a second, he looked straight into the camera—straight into Rory.

Rory had seen people with that look in their eyes before. Desperation and rage. Some of them had been ship mad, all of them had been dangerous.

“I will kill them all, cousin. I will hunt down and see to the end of your pathetic fucking parents. I will make sure every friend of yours burns. And, so help me, I will break that bounty hunter you have chauffeuring you around the edge. You’ll see it all and beg me to end you too.”

The message didn’t end immediately. Genesis waited, like he wanted to make sure they knew it wasn’t a slip of the tongue or his temper getting the best of him. He meant it. He was coming.

The call ended.

Rory held his breath, watching the blank square and wondering what Stardust would do next.

The connection ended. Whatever they were doing in their room, they weren’t connected to his ship anymore.

He tapped the console and the screen vanished, the stars taking over the full window.

Rory leaned back in his seat, going over his options and their plan again and again. Somehow, he had let himself end up in the worst position in the galaxy—between two Solinohs.

He needed to be ready for anything. If Stardust didn’t stab him in the back, there was a very real chance Genesis would make an example of him by the end.

Rory had always wanted to be known, but never thought it would be as a cautionary tale.

He dragged a hand over his face, closing his eyes and muffling a curse into his palm. It had been so easy to forget that his Stardust was a Solinoh. He couldn’t lose sight of that. It would get him killed. They would do whatever they had to to survive. They’d betrayed him the first chance they’d had and only teamed up with him out of necessity. Thinking anything else would make him worse than a fool—it would make him a dead fool.

They were in this for mutual benefit. They would get the loot, they’d get the blackmail material their family was ready to kill each other over, and he’d get half the treasure. After that, he’d get his ass as far away from the Solar Court as he could. Maybe he’d go to the ERS? Or maybe he’d go past it all and see what else was out there.

He heard their door whoosh open down the hall and their boots padding along the metal floor into the galley.

He almost jumped up to join them. Almost.

Rory Antilla swiveled forward and put his heels up on the edge of the console, watching the stars and going over the plans, the options, and the dark possibilities of how this was going to end.