#i understand shiv to be...shes open about her 'weaknesses' and even jokes about how fucked up she thinks she is but she also really doesn't

[marianneroy]

also shiv keeps joking abt treating her kid the way caroline did/the way she was raised but that's so Not True like it's self-deprecating in a way because if she keeps telling herself she will fuck up in the same way her mom did then no one will expect anything else from her. she doesn't think she could be a good mother so she outright says she wont even try to be one. but like thats not true bc shiv just, isnt like caroline. not really. and even though tom is narratively taking logans place, he isnt like logan either. so i do think they will do okay as parents. they wont boast about it or anything and they will probably consider themselves Shitty Parents but they r gonna be okay (delusional)

[bamboobrat]

succession s4 e5 recap: swedish elon and his logan roy tribute band

time is a flat circle and we are back to ken hyping himself listening to rap, driving to the office.

anyone feeling nostalgic yet?

he is immediately caught off guard by the fact that roman and shiv are already there.

also he seems like the worst boss ever.

i really don't like ken when he is not hitting rock bottom.

(there is a movie about a sleeping robot in a cave that takes up too much time in this episode. let's not get into all that)

the old guard checks up on the CE-bros before their trip to norway.

matchy matchy<3

turns out mattson wants them all there (why wouldn't he?) so THE GANG IS GOING TO NORWAY! lets bleed the swede!*

*as a norwegian, i approve this message

mortality has set into team krank, as they put on compression socks before the flight.

krank is not here to have fun. krank has no young mistress to impress. krank is serious.

shiv has noticed ken's leaks to the media from last week because she is boss. it's the comeback we've been waiting for.

but most importantly, she is waging a very important war against tom and his stupid new sneakers:

the sibs say they can kill tom for her. that's brotherly love.

hugo is not having a good time.

i am tho.

gerri rallies the troops by shitting on europeans.

yes mommy tell me i'm weak because i have free healthcare! sit on my face

gerri for CEO. always.

they accurately depict what it is like driving in norway:

(this is why i don't have my licence)

the gang arrives in the motherland and it's beautiful, but rainy (so authentic) and are all like WHY THESE WOOD CABINS SO SMALL?!

ironic because jeremy lives in fucking denmark.

anyway, whatever this is:

I DO NOT APPROVE!

the trip up to mount olympus is interrupted by con saying he can send a picture of their dead dad to the group chat.

nobody wants to see it.

also, marcia is putting logan in a kilt like the fucking bay city rollers and con had to cancel a room full of working class whites in cleveland. the sacrifice.

they give con carte blanche for the whole funeral thing, which is probably a terrible decision.

the funeral is going to be one big campaign rally, i'm serious.

the others have to settle for a nice lil scandi brunch spread. what a hard life.

i don't say this often, but i would be hugo in this scenario, piling onto my plate like it's nobody's business.

karolina has a cute lesbian moment.

she says something in swedish at some point, but let me tell you, i understand swedish and i didn't even pick up on it. no shade to dag, but lol.

hugo doesn't understand how ski jumping works.

i thank the writers for putting this joke in there, even if literally no one other than random scandi people will get it.

it's like the opposite of danny boyle's the beach<3 give back to the community<3

roman enters negotiations and puts his fingers in the caviar.

you think i didn't notice? after all this time, you must know i notice everything.

the CE-bros make the village elders proud, as mattson offers 187 per share as long as he gets ATN.

also, gerri does a second take looking back at roman. these are the crumbs i am destined to live on, i guess. roman doesn't want to give up ATN tho, probably because 1) his dad wanted ATN 2) his dad told him he wouldn't make it at pierce and belongs at ATN 3) he is, somehow, the most rational of the siblings right now????

speaking of rational: how are we feeling about the shiv/mattson potential here? i honestly have zero objections.

shiv is like fuck yeah, sell ATN, that shit is toxic.

agreed, but who gave mencken an open line to ATN-meetings? sounds like something logan told cyd to do during one of those late night calls.

"even dad had a line" rings true zero percent. pass.

get rid of atn. word is, they don't even have tucker carlson anymore? just keep a sweater, much less racist.

we get some important leo dicap representation:

and greg is the bringer of all that is exposition, telling us there is a kill list with 8 to 9 names, ever evolving.

now, as most readers of these recaps would know, i would like to avoid spending any time on greg whatsoever (made even more poignant by the recent rumors about nick), however, this must be one of the best exchanges of dialogue ever made:

greg: da fam shiv: da fuck

that's all.

tom tells the swedes that americans don't care about the rest of the world and it's funny because it's true.

and alex being like "you're ALL related?!"

i see you, succession writers, i see you.

mattson calls waystar a parts shop and has a good take on right wing media:

"i dont think news for angry, old men works"

instead, he opts for bloomberg grey: simple, cheap, huge, ikea'd to fuck. i do love ikea.

he calls the sibs a tribute band which is harsh. even for a scandi, it's fucking harsh.

anyway, SAUNA! SAUNA! SAUNA!

GERRI. IN. SAUNA! (chant with me)

i will never forget what the succession writers took from me.

krank out here just chilling.

i've never shipped anyone more.

we are introduced to ebba. i can tell i'd have more to say on this in any other situation, but it just feels weird (all norwegian know each other, i guess).

anyone else here for the shiv/mattson dynamic?

i'm sorry, i kind of ship it????

ken wants to tank the deal and roman immediately calls him out on his destructive bullshit:

and then immediately caves.

"i think we are good at running the ship" they say after doing it for approximately 24 hours.

i wish i had their confidence.

also, pinky can't dance, according to ken, so they keep shiv out. meanwhile, she gets cozy with lukas, who asks her about her marriage (bad) and tells her he sends liters of blood to ebba (also bad).

shiv shows us why she is paid the big bucks for political advice:

we don't see the end of their night, so i'm just going to assume they fucked. because she's worth it.

also, talking up gerri and karolina? girlies stick together<3

big bi vibes here. huge. idc if she's pregnant and drinking.

meanwhile, the CE-bros use greg to leak that the negotiations are souring. why would you trust greg with anything?

in an attempt to fuck the deal, the CE-bros show a terrible film to the swedish team, as if being scandi doesn't mean you've sat through enough terrible cinema already....

we get the strangest fight in tv history:

lol @ us for thinking this was an important moment for the two of them and then it's a fight about white sneakers and fat earlobes.

i sure hope shiv fucked lukas.

roman receives a photo of his dead dad and it doesn't really put him in the right place to negotiate with mattson:

ouch.

leave it to kieran to make an emmy-worthy speech across from alex skarsgaard peeing.

the plan was: tank the deal, but in a subtle way. what they did: try and tank the deal, but in a not very subtle way. did the deal tank: no.

i hope you understand.

the question is, if a deal collapses in the woods and no one hears it, is it a SEC violation?

mattson ends up offering 192 per share. karl jizzes his pants.

shiv gives the little spelunker tom a lil treat, telling him to fire cyd.

then she asks him out?

and ignores him again because she is taking a call from mattson?

idk my dudes, but i'm into this shiv comeback.

mattson seems happy and flirty and i sure as shit hope this goes somewhere.

as long as it doesn't involve liters of frozen blood.

i have a feeling it will be all good vibes until he learns about her pregnancy. there's always something rotten in the state of denmark (or norway, or sweden, but it's all the same).

the waystar-team receives the kill list after the offer and it's very stressful for a few people who made themselves suffer through a session in the sauna:

not on the kill list: karolina gerri tom because shiv fucking did the thing!!

oh, and karl and frank are on the kill list, but i think they are just fine.

maybe the real treasure was the compression socks we made along the way.

[kendallsdreamsong]

"come on, nate, we should be good people … wouldnt it be nice to wake up in the morning and not feel like a fucking piece of shit?" so this is shiv, trying to make this decision to be a good person, bc she Knows she isnt, but of course she keeps being a bad person with nate, bc she already feels like a piece of shit and she already expects herself to keep going back to that and its who she decides she has to be. later on she'll shut down and feign ignorance to how deeply fucked up the company and her whole life is, but for now she can be open and honest and say "im a fucking piece of shit. i dont want to be, but i am."

"you tell yourself you're a good person but you're not a good person" reflects more on kendall than it does shiv i think, bc almost immediately after this he says "im the real you", which can be read as him saying "im the Actually good version of you", but he also knows this not to be true… etc etc. but it also totally Does reflect on shiv, because shes so wrapped up in making other people Think shes a good person, and making other people think she thinks shes a good person, but the honesty we saw with nate earlier shows that deep down she does know and conceptualize her standing within the world

"oh, look, shiv, do you think that stealing is what good people do? stealing? cheating at monopoly?" this is objectively silly and thats the point, how roman makes jokes out of how he actually feels to cover it up, ugh i dont have to go through all of this just look at the tvtropes page for the sad clown trope and you'll get the idea. in any case, shiv actually said, "i was only stealing so i could win", in this case saying "i did what i had to to win dads affection" and roman fired back with what he perceived to be a weak point, shivs morality. also roman feels like something was taken from him here, might have something to do with how he brings up what shiv did with gerri -- see romans issues with sexuality and further analysis of specifically the revocation of agency(? idrk if thats the word im looking for) in his sexuality. Or something

"greg, dont be an asshole, you dont have principles" is a comedic sort of juxtaposition; "dont be an asshole" and "you dont have principles" are, like, opposites, since not being an asshole implies having some principles. what tom is demanding here is a double standard and loyalty to a class which, for a long time, greg has not belonged to. essentially hes trying to make sure greg, known slimy bitch, wont betray him, aka work for toms gain, which in itself calls back to that theme of rich entitlement, that people in the upper class have a simultaneous philosophy of "make your own fucking pile" and work solely for ur own best interest, but expect those around you to serve you. thats where logan excels, he understands that everyone else has the same philosophy he does and distrusts them as a result

"i cleaned up your mess … and im a bad person?" again, this calls back to this idea of pure loyalty to the upper class. since the lower class isnt "real", being horrible to them and/or covering up that behavior is okay, justified even. but to be part of the upper class, it is Good to do whatever nasty stuff you have to do to beat someone else. being good, then, isnt about morality, its about power, maybe. logan has cleaned up kendalls mess, and hes supposedly a good person for it. but thats backwards, covering up the truth of someones death to blackmail ur son isnt (morally) good behavior. and that is, at this point, the language that kendall is speaking. logan isnt speaking the same language

"i dont know. im not a good person. … im bad" this is pretty obvious. kendalls been ruminating in the fact that hes a horrible person for the past 2 seasons and now he says it outright. something something black and white thinking

"do you want a deal with the devil?" literally anything i say about this interaction has already been said im moving on

"lifes not knights on a horseback. its a number on a piece of paper its a fight for the knife in the mud." see everything i said earlier about logan speaking the language of power, not morality. "lifes not knights on a horseback" is ofc about not saving people and making ur own pile etc. the iconography is particularly romantic (er, anti-romantic), which is interesting considering logans many weird fucked up relationships with various women. its also associated with medieval times, which. i dont know if that means anything, usually if succession is referencing history its about greek/roman history, but. yknow. "its a number on a piece of paper" references business ofc and with "its a fight for a knife in the mud" im gonna go out on a limb and say this is referencing boar on the floor? pigs are associated with mud, and boar in the floor was something about class struggle. Uh. ya

^^^ im saying so many words i dont know if any of them make sense. i should goooo do my homework Ya. then take a shower and continue my rewatch then go beddy bye

[battle-of-roses]

When Rome Burns : Part 1

TW : Logan Roy's A+ Parenting, Manipulative Logan

By @your-gay-cousin-clover

---

With a certain hint of trepidation, Tom starts dressing himself to meet up with Shiv in downtown New York. The plan was pretty simple for the day: meet up with Shiv, find a gift for her father, put on his best Midwest honourable fellow personality and charm the pants of all her family. He stopped for a moment in the middle of his bedroom, standing there in his white button up, boxers and black socks, biting his lip on whether to take the gold ring, he’d picked out a week ago, to the party. After all this time he had spent with her, ever since their whirlwind romance in Hong Kong, he was sure that she was the one for him. His soulmate, the-one-who-he-got, his loml. The question was of when?

The party would be a good place to propose. Lavish surroundings, her entire family, and a pretty pricey ring to show his commitment to her. All eggs in your basket, he’d say if- when she said yes. And it would all be fine and okay. He starts to daydream for a moment, his dreams flying higher than just becoming Logan Roy’s son-in-law, maybe he’d join in the business himself. He would swoop in, take over one of the main branches of Royco, maybe ATN and continue the family business until he had his own billionaire kids à la Shiv.

Beep! Beep!

His fantasies suddenly dashed down into the floor. He jerks and reaches to the phone on the table to receive the call. It’s Shiv.

“Hey honeybee,” he says in a sweet-syrupy tone that he hoped conveyed his affections accordingly.

“Where are you?”

He immediately frowns. Her tone is clipped sharp, a razor’s edge, threatening him to not speak a word off their usual script.

“I’m … ahh… just getting dressed. Oh, oh, how formal is the even supposed to be? Do you think I could sneak in a tartan tie pattern to impress your Dad?” He tries to detract from her irritation.

“The fuck, Tom? Don’t be silly. Just wear whatever you want, you’re not a pre-schooler. It’s a formal event, but don’t wear anything weird or embarrassing.” Her words just kick up a latent anger in him that he press down as per usual. It’s alright, maybe it’s her job that’s got her stressed.

He tries another jovial voice for a size. “Ok, love-,” he continues, but there’s no Shiv on the other side of the call. Just him and the dial tone mocking him.

Right.

Nothing weird or embarrassing.

He drops the ring into a drawer of his bedside table and shuts it close.

—

The day goes in its own pace and Shiv makes a hasty apology about her signal getting dropped in the elevator. He waves it off, he always goes. There’s no use holding on a grudge with his future-wife-to-be, on silly things like one too many passive aggressive words and brushed off endearments. And so, here he is now. Standing in the middle of an opulent penthouse living room, chatting pleasantries with Marcia, hands sweaty as he tightens his grasp on the gilded box with the watch.

It had been pretty expensive to purchase on his own. He and Shiv were comfortable, sure. But they - no, he wasn’t Olympus rich like the Roys, America’s number one conservative messiah. He hopes it’s enough. Enough for a job at ATN, enough for Shiv, above all, enough for Logan.

His fucking future hung on a balance because of a little ticking metal machine.

Ding!

There. The elevator’s number stuck still on their current floor and his breathing picks up. Everyone else collects around the door to waiting as the metal door open, but he stands back, alone. For a split second, he’s swallowed up in all the gold, gild and glamour around him and he simply can’t breathe.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of all this. No matter how brave, how much of a fucking asshole he pretends to be. He does not deserve to be here. He’s what? Got a few hundred thousand in his savings, while collectively in front of him stands the 3rd richest family in America. He just wants to bolt and never come back.

And in the same fleeting moment, the doubt hastily vaporises as Logan Roy himself steps into the view amidst loud yells of “Happy Birthday!”.

The moment he sees Logan, it’s something of oh, that echoes in his head. Like oh, he’s just an old man. And he indeed looks frazzled, startled by the sudden cheers. But he whispers something to Marcia, who takes his coat and hands it off to one of the numerous maids hurrying around the house.

And then he straightens up to face the crowd. There’s something in his eyes that makes Tom want to shrink back against the patterned wallpaper. Something fierce, something very calculating. He watches as Logan makes his way through the crowd of his children and nods absent-mindedly at everyone’s greetings.

“Shiv,” Logan says, turning to Shiv, his back to Tom “Where’s Wambsgans? I thought we invited him.”

Shiv’s expression falters for a second, perhaps debating whether her father’s joking or not. It’s clear, he’s not, when the beat of silence extends between them. She smiles back again, radiant. And gosh, Tom loves her so much.

“He’s behind you, Dad!”

Tom didn’t have much time to be mortified as Logan turned to him and stuck his hand out to shake. Awkwardly balancing his watch box on one hand, Tom tries to make grip firm and solid. Logan gives him two shakes and quickly removes his hand.

“Wambsgans, you’ve got a strong grip. Trying to break an old man’s hand, eh?”

Fuck. Of course, Logan Roy would be above all masculine handshaking bullshit that the Wall Street posers were really into. Logan knew he was the king of the world, didn’t need to prove it to any Tom-Dick-Harry on the street.

Logan’s already turning away from him, but Tom tries to swallow his foot down the throat trying not to make his first impression even worst. He lets out a laugh, but winces internally. Too braying, too harsh, too corny.

“Well, you’re not that weak, Mr Roy-“ He tries. He does. But Shiv already looks disappointed and Logan’s barely listening to him. His time to prove himself is running out.

Ding!

Everyone turns to look at the elevator again. Kendall Roy steps out the lift with his ex-wife and children in tow. He’s wearing that same black blue outfit combo, just like the one on Forbes, proudly declaring him as the HEIR WITH THE FLAIR. Tom has read Kendall’s entire wikipedia enough times to know that the stress marks and the lack of the photogenic smile was simply because of his age.

Drugs - Divorce - Demotion.

Yet like every American hero billionaire, Kendall got the second chance that could only be afforded to the rich and now, most probably, he was going to the Successor to the entire media conglomerate. Even then, Tom wouldn’t say that he exactly envies the other man.

“Ken!” Logan’s voice somehow sounds surprised as well as disappointed. “I didn’t think you’d come. Did we close the Vaulter deal?”

Kendall’s stance becomes a bit wooden as he reaches down to accept his father’s embrace. His ex turns to Marcia and hands off a wrapped box with a pleasant smile. The kids run off with Grace’s kid and Kendall stands there looking a bit unsettled as he answers “oh, no, no Dad. They’re still hammering out the details. I took a break to wish you on your birthday. Not sure how many more there might be.” The conversation mills a bit around the two, everyone leans in a bit to hear.

“You did?” Logan repeats with furrowed brows. “Well, where’s your cousin? I thought he’d rather come than you.”

Kendall looks taken aback for a moment. Everyone tries another round of conversation, but Tom simply nods along to other’s words as he tries to figure out information about the cousin. A cousin? Shiv’s never mentioned a cousin being involved in … well, anything.

“Greg?” Kendall asks, his voice uncertain. Logan looks him in the eye and shares a sardonic grin. “Yes, Greg. Unless Marianne happened to suddenly stop by. What’s he doing? Wasn’t he with you this morning?”

Kendall seems to shrink into himself under his father’s gaze. “Greg’s..” he starts and stops for a moment. “Greg’s with the team in the building. He wanted to finish the deal before joining the party.”

“Shame.” Logan says, “But good for him, as soon as we wrap up this deal the better. Anyway, kids, can I talk to you alone for a moment? I just want you to sign something.”

All of them exchange glances with each other, the meaning of which Tom is too novel to understand. All of them quietly follow in the steps of their father. The rest of them stare.

“So,” Marcia says, clapping her hands together. The sound echoes in the eerie silence devoid of birthday wishes. “Let’s get started on lunch shall we?”

—

On the way to the “game” which was highly requested in a cult-like chanting, Tom abruptly turns to Shiv and asks “I didn’t know you had cousin working at Waystar?”

She ceases typing on her phone and looks up with pinched brows, seemingly in thought. Tom watches the city go by in a blur from Shiv’s side of the window and waits. “

“Oh,” She says “You mean Greg? Yeah, he’s like my second cousin. Uncle Ewan’s only grandson, although I don’t think he’s seen them since he was ten? He’s chief strategist at Royco. You’ll see him soon enough when you join.”

A when, not an if. And immediately, Tom’s heart lifts. He fights a grin on his face and catches Shiv’s eye. She smiles a bit, the stress from her face falling away for a second and turns back to her phone.

All was well.

—

All was not well.

Tom kind of looks like an idiot. At least in his own head, he’s been lugging around the watch box the entire evening. Right now, he’s standing behind Logan and Shiv like an obedient puppy waiting for Shiv to call upon him. The rest of the family is setting up the baseball game while the groundskeepers looking on fascinated.

Tom pretty much feels like them.

“So, about Tom,” Shiv says and Logan seems to be considering her words. Tom’s ears pick up, his hands turn sweaty again and he fidgets with the box in his hands. He imagines he can hear the watch tick inside like a time bomb.

“Hmm…” Logan replies, peering out into the distance. Kendall’s already gone into the wind, about half-an-hour ago, his ear glued to the phone talking to “Greg”. Tom waits for that syllable to end and simply waits.

“What do you think about putting him under Greg?”

Despite the short distance between him and the duo, he hears an undercurrent of something sinister his way. Something almost amusingly cruel.

“Wh-why Greg? Isn’t that - like isn’t he already busy with the buyings and everything else? And surely you don’t expect Tom to be his assistant? He’s much more experienced in business.” Shiv’s protest add a bit of tension to his mind.

What was the deal with this Greg? It was almost as if he was some kind of a boogeyman to Shiv and her siblings. But someone that Logan clearly approved of, but there was something very odd about the whole missing cousin.

It was as if being put under the cousin would somehow be bad for him. Geez, was he some kind of a hardass?

“No, no. I’m sure Greg’s not to busy to welcome your boyfriend into the family business. He can help guide Tom and put him in a fitting department. Not to busy to help family.”

Tom expects Shiv to say something. To put off Logan’s plan and for a moment, she does. But instead, she stops and frowns.

A beat.

Tom takes it as his cue to step in with the box.

This better work.

—

[gayredmage]

Moonlight Sonata

Pairing: Sephesis Rating: T/sfw Prompt: Apocalypse/Moonlight courtesy of @lilly-white Word count: 2421 Summary: Genesis awakens and is confronted with a post-Shinra era world where Sephiroth has scorched the planet. Sephiroth has faith that his lover will join him.

A/N: Tag said sfw for this prompt...Look, I tried. I really, really did. But there are non-graphic mentions of sex. This is also more post-apocalyptic.

I see you there. Traveling always under the faint light of the night's sky. Riding in the passenger seat of a farmer's pick-up truck across the arid dust bowl of old mines and environmental wastelands. Hitched your ride in exchange for some head at a truck stop, you'd say. But he saw that flip knife in your hand and your eyes, bright like they were on the breezy plains of Eastern Wutai. You close your eyes. Not able to stand the sights and smells of burning cities. Of people rebuilding civilization in the image of a lost era.

They've forgotten you. Your charm. Your wit. Your betrayal. How your exercise in rebellion cost you your family, fame and fortune. Rendering you to the lonely, wondering soul that you are now; trying to find his way into a world so foreign to him. Even the lies they made of you were lost to time and war; I knew the Turks killed your parents, you always said you were adopted and appreciative, I also knew that you left with your engagement ring affixed to your left ring finger.

The farmer leaves you at the broken down train stop of Edge. From a night of coercion he told you about his wife and four children. How the cabbages in the back were to be sold so he could provide for them. Send those kids to college if there will be one again on the continent.

"E-Edge!" he yelped, knife to his throat. He tried to touch you in your sleep. His broken wrist remembers that, "It's where everyone is! Midgar...it's ain't a city no more. Rubble it all is. But Edge. That's the hub. The home of the new world government."

Pleads for his life he does. You took his word for it. Step into the rainy town, because a city without street lamps was a husk.

It's early afternoon and those clouds were thick like smoke. You weave your way through the streets, narrowly missing a rat chased by a small girl with a shiv. What did you wake to? Does it please you? Or do you wish that slumber had not ended?

You make your way to the only source of light you can see. Flashing neons, coffee in the air and flames crackling. Seventh Heaven.

POSITION AVAILABLE

APPLY INSIDE!

A job. Get to know the locals. Facilitate some income. Find yourself. Is a bartender your calling?

The bell above the door rings as you enter. A woman approaches. Smiling. Cheerful. But mature.

"Hi! Welcome to Seventh Heaven. Name's Tifa, I run this gig. New face, you are. Not a bad one either." She winks, you smile.

"Certainly not as pleasant as yours." You turn on that charm. She laughs. Your lip curls in that smug, self-important manner.

"So, what can I get for you, new man?"

You sit at the bar, eyeing the menu written on the chalkboard.

"If it's not too much of a bother...a pina colada. Don't skimp on the umbrellas either."

"Would two umbrellas be enough?"

"I won't be happy until there's at least four."

She talks to you. Teases you. Watches you try to drink your alcoholic concoction between six umbrellas. "If they fall off, I'll charge you double."

She has a foster child. She takes care of two children. She runs a bar and diner all on her own. She's got an Avalanche HQ sign stuck to the wall, and a picture of her and a troupe of interesting characters.

"You know...you look really familiar." she says, "Are those mako eyes?"

You smirk. "I'm not sure of the state of Avalanche today, but rest assured, I'm more interested in applying for that bartending job you have available than standing in the way of whatever it is you plan to do."

She nods. "How good are you in the kitchen, soldier boy?"

Tifa trusts you. She probably remembers you vaguely flying around Nibelheim. How you watched as Zack left her behind. How you foolishly, for a brief moment had the weakness to cast a healing spell to delay her injuries and wipe away the blood from her face. You shouted for help, had a disguised clone help drag her to safety before departing. Maybe. That or she's stupid enough to trust you.

You make dinner service a breeze. She gives you an impromptu pay rise for making good candied apples and seared steak.

"Come on, just say hi!" she drags a reluctant you out of the kitchen and presents you to everyone, "This is the man behind the magic!"

You know them. One squints foolishly at you. And the other has shock written on his face.

You ignore them. Thank the clapping ones for their compliments. Chat for a bit, before tapping out for a breather.

"I know ya." You turn to face the cigarette puffing engineer.

"So, you've joined Avalanche, Highwind."

"Genesis Fucking Rhapsodos."

"It's Francis actually." you joke.

Cid cusses. "He's dead, yaknow. Or at least we all sure hope so."

"I've gathered from what I've seen. But do you know where he was killed?"

"What? You plannin' on makin' a funeral?" he shakes his head and speaks to you sincerely. Or at least as sincerely as an uncouth bastard could, "Look. I get it. You two were an item. But what he became...not even human. No human could call on a meteor to destroy the planet. Sure a human could damn well wish for it ta happen, but the shit he's done...you'd have killed him yourself."

You smirk. I wondered what you were thinking. Maybe you wanted to agree. Maybe you wanted to punch his eyes out of their sockets. But whatever it was. You worked hard. Gained their trust. Slowly learnt more about me. Stuck around that Tifa woman. Joked with her. Bought her gifts. Took her out to dinners and cabaret shows. Everyone was loving you.

But Tifa especially talks to you openly and honestly. Takes you on expeditions. Trusts you deeply. Believes you to be a good man who will aid them. Tells you of all the tragedy I have caused - the deaths, the attempts to end all life. But did she ever tell you that I did all of this for you? For your legacy? I had plans for us. To have a world where it is only you and I. So no one could destroy the bonds we have and force us apart again. I regret...it's my only regret, that I did not leave with you. Had only I not been so foolish to believe you spun lies out of jealousy - to believe the rhetoric about you that Shinra fed. For I trusted that opinion more than my own instinct - than the own knowledge I had from having you in my bed and you as my only love. How could I believe that they knew more of the man I would die for than I did myself?

But you understand this. You know me. You know what actions I would take. You know that you were the greatest thing in my life. That I would bow to you and work for your favour. That I would abandon whatever motive I had if you so disagreed.

Tifa trusts you. But do you trust her? Or do you trust your knowing of the man you called your Gift of the Goddess? You humor her. You called her a sister. Worked her into your palms. What are your plans for her, exactly? No one seems to mind your relationship. The children appreciate having a father figure who wasn't a broody brat that vanished for days and weeks. You taught them poems and arithmetic. Took them to school, went scavenging for children's tales and other books, took them kite flying in the plains. You've always been a kind-hearted spirit. I believe my brothers would have appreciated just as much listening to you talk about the apple trees by the fireplace and being tucked into bed after you made sure they brushed their teeth.

But Cloud. He felt threatened. Reeve had teased him about you stealing the show - putting more work and effort into rebuilding camaraderie and the city. Tifa confides in you hushedly, asking for romantic advice. You take her hand and speak to her sincerely. But he cannot here you. Only see as you whisper in her ear and she giggles. You made a crass joke about your preferences.

That cadet shattered a bottle and tried to gash your pretty face.

"Cloud!" Tifa had shouted. He hit the bottle hard. Gone for days at a time, but felt like he owned the woman. I'd have never done that to you.

But you just shrug. Feint and counter. Put him in his place with your boot to his chest. "There are children around." you whisper.

He breaks from you and Tifa questions him.

He points at you. "Do you know who he is?!"

"Yeah...my employee. He makes good margaritas and I'm not losing him to your stupidity!"

"I just...I just hate seeing you two so..."

"So what, Cloud?"

"So...So flirty!"

"Flirty?!"

You laugh. Maniacally so. You grab the edge of the bar to stop yourself from falling. Tifa sniggers. "He's not like that...you know. He's a man's man."

Cloud was confused. "The hell you mean?"

You wipe away a tear. "Meet me at a glory hole and I'll show you."

It became known as the day Cloud stopped being a complete ass to you. Tried to know who you were. Realised he knew so little of SOLDIER. Asked you to help him clear out Old Midgar of the dredge left behind. Bizarre monsters, the products of escaped Shinra experiments and the corruption of geostigma.

You work late into the night. Sent Cloud home early as the pack had thinned. He took off. Leaving you here. Alone. Picking through what were the remains of our apartment with only the light of your lantern guiding you.

December in Modeoheim. What were we thinking, you thought as you picked up the shards of a broken snow globe. You find the mattress. Burned, broken. You cut it open. Dig through the stuffing. You find it. Coordinates. Of Loveless Avenue, the one restored sector of Midgar.

I was waiting. Rented a room. Wore contact lenses to hide my eyes. Cut my hair. Became a blonde with an eye patch. A man named Seth Faremis. I smoked on the street corner. Waving away adamant street walkers that went by. And you were there. Standing in front of the bright lights of the Loveless Theater. Thinking about all the plays that you had seen here. The way you'd lean against me, hold my hand, whisper to me. You were so vibrant then. Like the life of the planet vanished with you and had returned.

I walk to greet you. Either you were pretending to ignore me, or you were planning to leave. But I knew that you felt my presence. You always had. You at least believed that I was still alive. But the face that greeted you...I saw that disappointment. But you entertained me. We saw a play together. Found a private dwelling of rubble in the Midgar ruins to make love on. I said how I never wanted this night to end. And you placed your hands over my throat.

"Where is he?" you ask, eyes alight with that determination which keeps me yearning.

I grin, "Deepground."

You start digging. You know the site. And I help you for the time being. We hit steel and make the descent. Your body aflame as you take control of the facility - slicing through the guards and muscle that stood in your way, blasting through defenses, reminding the world again of the power and finesse of a fine SOLDIER. The scientists try to shut you out. Call for Code Red and attempt to evacuate. The halls run red of the last of Shinra blood. You hurry to the central most room and the sight that greets you...

"I've found you..." you say. You kiss me. Thank me. Farewell me. Until I leave that corporeal form, this avatar, clone, and re-enter myself.

Bound to a chair. Gagged. I open my eyes and see you break into the white padded room using a computer virus that you used for years with your espionage team.

I'm pleased. To see you with my own eyes in my own flesh. Those full, red lips. That soft, auburn hair. Those heavy-lidded slanted eyes. You had always been so beautiful.

And now. What will you do? Will you release me? Will you embark on that journey you hoped for so long? The one where you walk down the aisle, exchange vows and say I do. We could do that. We could rule this planet, not hide ourselves, scurrying away after dark. Pretending that your bed was not indented with the form of my body.  We could do so much together. Could live the life we wanted. The one where we had an estate and a dog. The one where I would prepare firewood as you glaze the roast. The one where we traveled the world not as warriors, but us culture enthusiasts. You always loved the raw fish from Wutai. You would never put an end to all of that

Let's go to the hot springs. Relax. Take some time together. Plan that eternal future we will have slowly.

"I love you." You say. So softly and sweetly. You sit on my lap, unbind the cloth from my mouth...I kissed you. You kissed back.

"Genesis..." I say, not knowing where to begin and end, "It's been so long."

You unbind me. Believing that a wise decision and help me out into the dark. Where should we go in a world I am unwelcome? Under the cloak of a thick night we flee. Into the barren wastelands where the moon hangs high and you look so indelible writhing under the silver light above me. Moaning my name with the cricket's chirping. I touch your soft, warm skin, kiss your neck, watch the stars. Taste the milk of paradise.

We're panting. I open my eyes. Expecting to see your blushing face, tousled hair and soft, hazy blue eyes. But I saw the barrel of a gun. A gift from your father you stowed away.

Your left hand. Barren of any promises.

"I love you, Sephiroth." You say.

And I believe you.