#teen and up

[profoundbondfanfic]

Take Me Out

Take Me Out by Crematosis (@crematosis) Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 6.6k

Dean had asked Cas to take him out if he ever became a demon. This was not what he had in mind.

This one has a hilarious cracky concept. Dean asks Cas to "take him out" if he ever becomes a demon. Cas misinterprets this to mean "on a date."

The fic is funny, but it also has an underlying sweetness and the resolution at the end is very clever. Dean is petulant and a bit bratty and Cas is extremely stubborn, but they are surprisingly soft together.

It's a light read that had me grinning.

[steddieunderdogfics]

Nightswimming by eriquin

@eriquin

Rating: Teen and Up

265,009 words, 60/60 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warning

Tags: Post-Season/Series 02, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, High School, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Minor Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Ensemble Cast, Recreational Drug Use, Dubious Police Work, Steve's Father is a Jerk, Steve's Mother is a Complicated Adult with her own Agenda, Pining, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Catholic Steve Harrington, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Eddie Munson’s social circle had never intersected with Steve Harrington’s, even though they’d been in the same high school for the last four years, but you could say the same thing for everyone who gave the school freak a wide berth. He’d been tangentially aware of the rise and fall of King Steve as much as anyone else with ears, but he’d never given him much thought other than that. He’d been more focused on his own problems, like trying to figure out how to not fail his senior year a second time. All of that changes one night in February of ‘85, when a nasty encounter with the new popular kids leaves Eddie cursing his bad luck. But this one bad turn leads to a rapid expansion of his circle of friends. Nancy Wheeler has brains and a frightening level of focus, Jonathan Byers is hiding hidden depths beneath his quiet loner personality, and Steve... Steve is a literal life-saver. Eddie wants to bite him and see if there are sparks.

This is a MOD rec as a part of our Fic Fridays.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[suitesamba]

Lost Boy Found

Lost Boy Found is a Sherlock/John return fic that was requested by thetimemoves for the Fandom Trumps Hate 2023 auction. It is a reworking of my 2013 post-season 3 Always a Neverland, retold in Sherlock's POV. The original was written after Season 2 but before Season 3, so events are canon (mostly) only through the end of Season 2.

So this one took a long time to write - mostly because of work, life and writer's block - which I pushed through with help from a friend who told me to start reading old fanfic. And that worked - I highly recommend it.

I know we're past the midpoint of 2024 and I want to thank the incredibly patient and kind thetimemoves for trusting me and giving me the time and space I needed to finish.

9470 words/teen and up

[dailysonadowfanfics]

Reading every single Sonadow Fanfic (Ao3): 299/4.786

Title: Pink Asters

Author: Jouska the Deer (AngstAndAlliums)

Website: Ao3

Published: 09.01.2019

Word Count: 5.299 words

Language: English

Suited for minors? Teen and up

Warnings: No

Smut? No

Finished? Yes

Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog

Ships: Sonic/Shadow

Author Tags: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mild Language

Author Summary: Sonic shares his passion for flowers with Shadow, bringing him everywhere and teaching him about the symbolism behind each flower they see.

My summary: Sonic teaches Shadow some things about flower meanings, and they both start telling each other their feeling through flowers. Really cute.

You can read it here

[klanceficatalogue]

Hi! Do you have any post-game show recs where the team and especially Lance deal with the fallout of GWS?

oh boyy that episode. theres definitely some of those - k

Take My Name Out Of Your Mouth (You Don't Deserve To Mourn) by negativefouriq (1/1 | 1,739 | Teen and Up)

Lance’s hands shake on Red’s controls. All of him shakes, really, trembling like the last dead leaf on a barren tree. I just don’t want to be stuck here for eternity with Lance. As if he’s miles underwater, he hears the rest of the team chatter excitedly about the games they played. The drama, the excitement. He hears them talk about the test. He hears Coran say Bob is a god. Mostly, though, he hears his blood rushing through his ears, and Keith’s words repeating over and over in his head. Again and again. I just don’t want to be stuck here for eternity with Lance. --- OR: There are consequences to the playout of Bob's gameshow.

Tick tock, the time is ticking away by Naja_is_stitch (2/2 | 7,335 | Teen and Up)

Lance doesn't give the others a chance to vote. He votes on them all, practically begging Bob to get them out so they can save the universe. – "The universe needs all four of them to be save, how could I ever choose one of them" Lance said with tears going down his cheeks. "I'm the only one the universe could live without" – Langst, klance, and the feud episode, have fun!

First Choice by CorporisAuratus (1/1 | 1,672 | Teen and Up)

The paladins have to choose who gets to leave Garfle Warfle Snick. Lance has a realization about his friends. Keith deals with his feelings.

[chrisbangsbf]

Minho/Jisung

Teen and Up | 820 words

"soft sleepy domestic tooth brushing" for ky

AO3 link

Minho is absolutely fucking exhausted. He's been staring dejectedly at his suitcase for... well, a while. He's been emotionally pent up all week, and on top of all the nonstop schedules, it's a miracle he's even made time to eat, let alone get enough sleep.

It's the kind of tiredness he can feel in his bones, deep seated and ugly and sensitive, and it really wouldn't take but a few seconds for him to doze off if he could just... lay his head onto the pillows and listen to the gentle whir of the air conditioning.

He should shower, or at the very least change his clothes, but it feels like his feet are glued to the floor, like his eyelids are weighted. He's debating skipping the shower all together and pathetically collapsing into bed in his jeans, but then there's a knock at his hotel door that shocks him upright.

"Hyung," comes a voice not even a breath later, the owner of it stepping past the threshold of his room and filling the space with his presence. It feels suffocating in a way Minho's not used to. Not with him.

Taking a deep breath, Minho straightens his spine and it cracks loudly. His fingers slip off the zipper of his toiletry bag as he wobbles, but suddenly Jisung is behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist and pressing his nose to the base of his neck. It must be sticky with sweat.

"Hyung?" Jisung repeats, after Minho doesn't say anything. His voice is softer now, chest solid against his back as he holds him; he's always been able to tell what Minho needs, oftentimes even before Minho himself does.

Minho clears his throat and blinks heavily, leaning his head back onto Jisung's shoulder. "M' sorry, just–" he sighs, lets Jisung kiss behind his ear, soft and caring, "–just so tired I can barely stand up."

Jisung hums, arms tightening around him. It's soothing, to feel his warmth and the rumble of his voice, to smell the shampoo in his damp hair, to be able to relax into him and know he would never let him fall.

"Want me to help you get ready for bed?" he offers, so sweet and lovely and perfect. Minho whines, because he really doesn't feel like doing anything, but he can feel the way Jisung smiles against his neck and... he's always been weak for him.

It's not easy to let himself be doted on, not even like this, but Minho still begrudgingly lets Jisung guide him to the bathroom and sit him on the toilet. He nearly falls asleep again as Jisung takes the time to wipe his makeup off for him, finger pads gently massaging his cheeks as he applies his skin care afterwards, because of course he knows in exactly what order Minho does it. He pouts when Jisung squeezes his jaw and stuffs a toothbrush inside his mouth, and the sound of Jisung's airy laughing makes his stomach swirl with butterflies.

"Keep your mouth open," Jisung says, squatting down next to him and laying his free hand on Minho's thigh. "I don't want you to choke."

Minho makes a disgruntled noise but obeys nonetheless, baring his teeth so Jisung can scrub them properly. He starts with his molars, drawing little circles with the bristles on each one and making sure to get every angle before moving to the other side to do the same. There's definitely a little toothpaste dripping down his chin, but he can't find it anywhere in himself to care.

Jisung brushes his front teeth with extra care, and ordinarily Minho would tease him for it, but all he can think of now is how much he loves him. How he didn't have to do any of this, but he wanted to. It feels domestic, like a little preview into what their future could hold, and before he can sniffle to prevent himself from crying– stupid, stupid, dumb, exhausted feelings– Jisung is guiding him to the sink and cupping water in the palm of his hand for Minho to rinse with.

When Minho meets Jisung's gaze in the mirror, he manages a soft smile. It's sincere, and he can tell Jisung knows everything he's trying to say with it.

Jisung even helps him change into sleep clothes; he pulls his jeans and underwear and socks off and slides a pair of comfy shorts onto his legs instead, swapping his button up with a cotton t-shirt and tucking him into bed.

Minho moans as he snuggles into the duvet, more and more tension leaving his body with each passing second. He processes the light being turned off and the sound of Jisung's footsteps as they approach him. His body slides up behind his with ease, sheets rustling as an arm naturally reaches out to pull him close.

This is exactly what he needed. A moment of peace. A second to breathe, to just exist. Jisung.

"Get some rest, hyung," Jisung whispers, curling their bodies together like pieces of a puzzle.

"Mm," he mumbles, threading their fingers and bringing them up to his lips so he can kiss the back of Jisung's hand, "always sleep better when you're around." 

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Epilogue (2 of probably 4)

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

LISTEN I LIED OK. THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO PARTS TO THIS EPILOGUE I CAN'T HELP IT. a lot of people need to have their loose ends tied up and who am i to deny them? after this, there's a heavy one (mom needed her own entire chapter), and the fun one (for everyone else) will be last. i think. who knows, at this rate.

gratuitous sephiroth because he's beautiful

“You guys come from Nibelheim?” asked a shirtless, very suntanned teenaged boy, who had just carried in a crate of vegetables. “No? Oh, man, did you hear what happened over there? Earthquake opened up natural gas vents, blew Shinra Manor sky high. The Mt. Nibel reactor melted down, too. Town’s ok, but the reactor’s fucked. Lot of people out of jobs, now. They’ve been showing up here, all week.”

“Is that so?” replied the customer he was addressing; a tall, slender, extraordinarily handsome youth, with black hair and crimson eyes. “How unfortunate.”

“Know what I heard?” the first teenaged boy’s equally shirtless and suntanned brother piped up, as he carried in another vegetable crate. “I heard a bunch of those monsters they were making there broke loose, and that’s what did it. They say Shinra’s covering it all up, by claiming it was earthquakes and gas leaks and shit. But my best friend’s girlfriend is in the fourth infantry and she told him—”

“Alright you two, shut your yaps and get back to work,” a trim, middle-aged woman in an apron and sundress scolded, shooing away her gossiping sons, who rolled their eyes and stalked off, with their crates of vegetables. She beamed at the customer they’d been chatting to, as she unfolded a paper bag and filled it with the wrapped sandwiches he’d ordered. “That all for ya, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the youth nodded. “Oh—and a chocolate chip cookie. Thank you, ma’am.”

The little blonde boy at his side reached for the oversized cookie, but the youth took it and put it into the bag, with the sandwiches.

“No more sweets till after lunch,” he admonished. “You can’t grow up tall and strong like me, on an all-cookie diet. Now give me your hand and don’t run off.”

The woman behind the counter smiled warmly, to see the older boy (brother she assumed, though they didn’t look much alike) taking such attentive care of the younger, and the little one minding him so well, holding his hand and doing as he was told, without fussing or making a scene.

Just then, the sound of a crash and two young, male voices arguing came from the back of the shop. She sighed, shaking her head. If only her two idiot sons were so well-behaved and thoughtful as those two. They must have a much better father.

Oblivious to the unfavorable comparison they’d created for the other two young men, the black-haired youth and the tiny blonde boy walked down the bustling street, hand-in-hand, till they reached one of the many nearly-identical stucco buildings, with terra cotta roof tiles, that were as common as sand, in this beach-resort town.

This particular one was a small house, that was rented to tourists by the week, and had the advantage of being almost directly on the beach and also close to the town center, where all the shops and dining were located.

“Ms. Strife, we’re back!” the older boy called out, as the two entered. “Take off your shoes, Cloud, we don’t want to track sand all over the place.”

“Boys, thank the goddess,” a young blonde woman said, from the kitchen table. She’d been sipping iced tea and flipping through a copy of Midgar Magazine, but as the two approached, she collapsed in her chair and flung her arm theatrically over her face, like a tragic heroine. “You’re just in time to snatch me from the jaws of starvation! Quick, quick, my roast-beef sandwich! Before I waste away to nothing but bones!”

“Mama’s being dramatic,” the little blonde boy informed the older one, pursing his lips. “Don’t give her any, till she says please and thank you. That’s the rules.”

“Ah, my cruel son,” his mother intoned, reaching over to capture him in her arms and tickle his ribs, while he giggled and kicked. “No use trying to escape, Cloudy boy! This is your punishment for betraying your poor, starving mother! Oh, thanks for picking up lunch, Seph. If you don’t mind getting your pa, I’d appreciate it. He hasn’t come out of his room, yet, and I don’t dare disturb him.”

“It’s alright. He hates the sun and he doesn’t eat, anyway,” Seph answered cheerfully, taking a seat at the table. “He’ll probably sleep till sunset.”

“Uh-huh. But he’s definitely not a vampire,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, as she set her wriggling son back on his feet.

“Vampires eat blood. People blood,” Cloud asserted, with a grimace. “Mr. Valentine can’t be a vampire.”

“Cloud is correct, my father doesn’t drink blood,” Seph confirmed, as he poured glasses of milk for himself and Cloud. “But he used to sleep in a coffin.”

“Disappointing,” Claudia lamented, through a bite of her sandwich. “I bet he doesn’t even turn into bats or explode in direct sunlight, either.”

Seph arched a black eyebrow. “Would you prefer he was a blood-drinking monster?”

“If he’d turn me into one, too. It’d be kinda cool to be a vampire.”

“Mama! Be good!” Cloud scolded, mortified by his mother’s laissez faire attitude toward joining the ranks of the undead.

“Tch, what’s the fun in that? Besides, if I was good all the time, you wouldn’t exist, my darlin’ little bossy-boots.”

Seph nearly choked on his sip of milk, and covered his mouth with a napkin, coughing and sputtering.

“What’s being good got to do with having a kid?” Cloud wanted to know.

“Nothing, baby, mama’s just being silly,” his mother replied breezily, ruffling his golden hair. “Alright, boys, I hope you dirtied up some laundry for me to wash, or I won’t have anything to do to earn my keep around here, before the boss wakes up.”

“You did laundry yesterday, Ms. Strife,” Seph pointed out. “We’re wearing the only clothes we’ve dirtied up.”

“What about your linens? Those must need a wash, right?”

Both boys shook their heads.

She slumped defeatedly. “Can’t one of you be a team player and wet the bed? Are you trying to make me obsolete?”

“My father doesn’t really expect you to be working, all the time. He mostly hired you so that I wouldn’t be lonely.”

“I know that, but…I’m just so grateful to him, for getting us outta that shithole town—”

“Mama!”

“Oops—I mean, that dirthole town. Anyway, I can’t ever repay your pa for giving us this opportunity. So I at least want to do everything I can to be useful.”

“You’re already doing more than enough, Ms. Strife,” Vincent’s deep voice said, from the archway, where he had appeared unnoticed by the group.

“Father!” Seph smiled, hopping up to throw his arms around him, as if they hadn’t seen one another in a week.

“Ah, well—ha ha. I just wish I could do more for y’all,” Claudia said awkwardly. “Seph looks after Cloudy all day, and aside from cooking dinners, I hardly have any housework to do. I feel like a regular bandit, taking what you’re paying me.”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Strife, I have more money than my father and I will ever know what to do with,” Seph assured her. “If we can use it for something that helps you and Cloud, and makes us happy at the same time, why not do it?”

Claudia raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean your pa has money?”

“No, it all belongs to my son,” Vincent said serenely. “Since I have been legally declared dead and have no wish to be declared living again, Seph is the sole heir and legal possessor of the family assets.”

“That’s right,” Seph put in cheerfully. “Plus, I emptied Hojo’s account before Shinra froze it, so I have all of my fake father’s money, too.”

Vincent nodded approvingly and patted Seph on the shoulder.

“I’m guessing there’s more to that than I want to know about,” Claudia remarked. “I was just wondering, why us? I mean, Cloudy ain’t even close to your age and I’m a high-school dropout who’s never been outta Nibelheim. There’s gotta be better companions for a couple rich, educated gentlemen.”

“Ms. Strife, do you believe in omens?” Seph asked. “Or portentous dreams?”

“Uh. I’m as religious as the next person, I guess. You’re not saying you had a dream about us, are you?”

“I am saying just that,” Seph nodded earnestly. “That day we first met, in the bakery, I had the strongest feeling that there was some fate between us. Then that night, I had a dream. A messenger from the goddess came to me, and showed me…a lot of confusing things, about the future. But amidst all the chaos, the thing that stood out most clearly was little Cloud, here. He is deeply important to the Planet, and it’s my goddess-given duty to act as his guardian angel. To protect him and help him, any way I can.”

This was all news to Cloud, who was staring at the older boy, with eyes as wide and round and saucers. He’d even stopped eating his chocolate chip cookie.

“It’s so strange you’d say that about a dream,” Claudia said, with a glance at her son. “Because…well, you wanna tell ‘em about it, baby?”

Cloud frowned and drew into himself, shaking his head.

“Is something the matter?” Seph asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Cloudy had a dream that night, too. He came running into my room, screaming about the town was burning down, and we had to get out of the house. Scared the tar out of me.”

As she said this, a look of pain flickered across Seph’s face, so briefly that no one observed.

“I ran to the window to look, but everything was quiet, just like normal. I told him it was just a nightmare, but he kept saying it wasn’t a dream. He insisted that the town was gonna burn and the boy with the silver hair was gonna fly down and save us from the fire, cause…uh. Cause you’re an angel. With wings and everything.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Cloud muttered sullenly, without looking up. “I wasn’t even sleeping.”

“I thought nothing of it, but then the very next day, there was that huge explosion at the manor,” his mother went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Broke windows all over town and shook our whole house. Then all those helicopters started flying over and a lot of big trucks came roaring through. People running by said the manor went up like it was full of dynamite. Cloudy was trying to drag me out of the house, to go over there, but it was too dangerous, and the soldiers wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near it, anyway. It was plain eerie the way it happened right after his dream, and all. I mean, the town didn’t catch fire, but it was damn close. They say rubble got thrown all the way to the old Lawson cabin, in the outskirts.”

Seph nodded gravely. “I’m glad no one from the town was harmed. It seems the goddess truly was protecting you.”

“You and your father, as well. Unless you think it was just dumb luck that you weren’t there, when it happened.”

“I don’t believe in luck. But, in any case, that’s my reason for having you two with us. I want to protect Cloud and take care of him, no matter what it takes. If that means helping you establish yourselves in a better place, with more opportunities than Nibelheim, then that’s what I mean to do. But we can talk about all of that another day. If you don’t object, I was planning to take Cloud to look for shells and beach glass.”

“Sure,” Claudia smiled. “I mean, as long as the boss doesn’t mind.”

“Father?” Seph prompted, when it became clear Vincent wasn’t aware he was being deferred to.

Vincent looked startled. “Hm? I’m the boss? When did we decide that?”

“You’re my father and Ms. Strife works for you. You’re literally the boss, in that respect.”

“I see,” Vincent said, slumping gloomily. “Then my first act as the boss is to tell everyone to do whatever you like. But don’t keep Cloud out too late. And if you get the slightest whiff of trouble, you call me. Do not engage. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Seph said dutifully. “Come on, Cloud. Let’s go change into our swimsuits.”

“Leave your dirty clothes on the floor, this time!” Claudia called after them. “I need something to do!”

“My son is…very spiritual, Ms. Strife,” Vincent said, once the boys had gone. “I hope his ideas don’t trouble you. If so, I’ll ask him not to say such things, in your son’s presence.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all. The goddess speaks to everyone in different ways,” she said, as she began to clear the few lunch things from the table. “So, when were you planning on telling me the truth, about who you two are, and why you’re on the run from Shinra?”

A little while later, Cloud and Seph were headed to the beach, hand-in-hand, with plastic buckets hung over their arms. Cloud was wearing bright blue swim trunks, with a yellow starfish pattern, and Seph was in black surf shorts and a white v-neck t-shirt.

He’d pulled his shoulder-length hair back into a low ponytail, and with his outsized height and visible muscle tone, he looked much older than fourteen. Cloud, however, was small even for a boy his age, and so they made something of an odd pair, as they strolled along at the surf line, stopping, ever so often, to pick up shells and colorful bits of sand-tumbled glass.

“Why’s your hair and your eyes different now?” Cloud asked, as they crouched to paw about in the wet sand.

Seph smiled at him. “Did you like them better, before?”

Cloud nodded.

“I’m sorry I changed them, then. But people are looking for me, and they’d recognize my silver hair and mako eyes, right away. I have to disguise myself when we’re in public, for now.”

“What’s mako eyes?”

“I have been regularly treated with mako infusions, since I was a baby.” Seph dispelled the crimson illusion on his eyes, and Cloud leaned close, to inspect them. “My eyes are naturally light blue. That green in the center is from the mako.”

“Why aren’t the black parts round, like other people’s?”

“I was just born that way,” Seph said, with a rueful smile.

He preferred not to explain to the child that, despite his purification by Chaos, the effects of Jenova’s cells on his body couldn’t be reversed. The damage had already been done, as it were, and so the related traits were permanent. Among these, were his slit pupils and silver hair.  

“Do they look scary?” he asked Cloud. “Like monster eyes?”

Cloud shook his golden head. “They look like cat eyes. Cats are nice.”

“When we settle down somewhere less temporary, would you like to get a cat?”

“Yeah! Lots of cats!” Cloud said excitedly, then his face fell. “But what if your pa won’t let us?”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know that my father likes cats. Even if he didn’t, he’d let me have as many as I wanted. He has a lot of paternal guilt, and I’m afraid it manifests in over-indulging me.”

“What’s paternal guilt?”

“It’s when a father feels bad for not being a better father, or for his child having had an unhappy life. None of what happened to us was his fault, of course, but he still blames himself.”

“Is that why he’s sad all the time?”

“Yes, partly. He has suffered a lot. But I’m doing my best to take good care of him and make him happy.”

“But you’re not supposed to take care of him. Grown-ups are supposed to take care of kids,” Cloud asserted.

“Don’t you take care of your mother, too?”

“Mm. Yeah, I guess so.”

They dug around for a while in silence, but for the roar of the ocean and the plunk of shells and glass into their buckets. When there was nothing more to be scavenged, they moved on, in search of another spot.

“What people are looking for you?” Cloud asked.

“Shinra. They are not nice people. But it’s nothing you or your mother need to worry about. There’s no one in the world who can hurt you, if you’re with me and my father.”

Cloud made a dubious face. “Not even soldiers?”

“Not even soldiers.”

“What if they have guns?”

Seph’s eyes flashed with bloodthirsty intent. “If anyone dared to use a firearm in a manner that threatened you, they wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.”

Cloud’s eyes went round and his mouth fell open. “You would kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Have you…killed anyone before?”

“Yes, I have,” Seph answered, matter-of-factly. “Does that frighten you?”

Cloud thought about this for a moment. “Well, why did you kill them? Were they bad?”

“Not all of them. I have killed and hurt people, who didn’t deserve it. I was very little, not much older than you are, now. When I couldn’t control my emotions, bad things happened, and people died. I didn’t know right from wrong, back then, because no one taught me. But I do now. Those bad things won’t happen again. Never. I’m going to protect people, not hurt them. I’m going to save everyone, this time.”

Cloud picked up a broken sand dollar and fiddled with it. “Did you didn’t save everyone before?”

There was an oddly mature pointedness to the question, that made the hairs prickle up on the back of Seph’s neck. “Cloud, do you ever…remember things that haven’t happened yet?”

The boy started to shake his head, then paused and turned it into a hesitant nod. “Mama says it’s dreams, but it’s not when I’m sleeping. And sometimes the things I remembered happen.”

“What kind of things do you remember?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Cloud, you can tell me anything. I promise, I will always believe you.”

“W—well, ok. I dreamed about…you, before I knew you. And then we saw you at the bakery. Mama already told you about the dream where you flew down to save us from the fire. But after that, I dreamed about you again. You didn’t look like you look, but I know it was you. You were big and tall, and you had a long jacket and long hair, all the way down to your butt. And you were burning everything and standing in the fire and…and I had to kill you.” Cloud burst out sobbing and threw his little arms around Seph’s waist, burying his face in his t-shirt. “I don’t want to kill you! I won’t do it! I won’t!”

Seph picked him up and cradled him tightly in his arms, rocking and soothing him, pressing kisses to his golden head. When the boy was calm again, he set him down on his feet, and crouched to be on his eye level. “I know what you saw was terrible, but it will never happen, I promise.”

“You believe me?” Cloud sniffled, wiping his pink-rimmed eyes.

“Of course I believe you. I saw the same thing.”

Cloud’s eyes went wide yet again. “You did?”

“I did. I think what we both saw was a memory of a different future, from before I changed everything. That was the future where I didn’t save everyone.”

“But it’s not gonna happen now?”

“No. The things we saw were real. Terribly real. But they’re not, anymore. I’ve broken the shackles of fate, from all of us. Now, we’re free to make our own destiny.”

Cloud gave a bewildered frown. “You talk weird.”

“I know,” Seph smiled.

“Your pa talks weird, too. Like he’s from a book.”

“Well, he’s an old man. He can’t help it. I’m just weird. Is that alright?”

“Mmm…yeah, it’s ok,” Cloud decided. “You sound smart, like a grown-up. But you don’t act all grumpy and bossy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Only, don’t get into the habit of assuming all grown-ups are smart. A lot of them are extremely stupid. Especially the grumpy and bossy ones.”

Cloud laughed delightedly at this, as Seph took his hand, and the two walked on, to seek out another spot for gathering shells.

“Do you think my mama and your pa will get married?”

“To each other? I certainly hope not. Then we’d be brothers.”

“You don’t want to be brothers?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Cloud said quietly, lowering his head to look at the sand he was kicking.

Seph squeezed his hand. “Don’t be sad. It’s not because I don’t like you. I don’t want us to be brothers, because I want to marry you, one day.”

Cloud gave a start and jerked it away, his round cheeks turning bright pink. “You want to marry me??”

“Yes. Not for a long time, though. When we’re grown up.”

“B—but I’m a boy! Boys can’t marry boys!”

“I think it’s good we got you out of Nibelheim, sooner rather than later,” Seph remarked, making a distasteful face. “Those kind of backward ideas seem to be epidemic in small towns, like that.”

“What’s a backwards idea?”

“A backward idea is one that relies on ignorance, prejudice, or blind adherence to tradition, to make a moral judgement, about something with no inherent morality attached.”

“Uh…”

“For example, the idea that two men or two women can’t be married. People like to say it’s wrong, but what is actuallywrong about it? Is it bad for a woman to love another woman and want to be her wife? Is it bad for a man to want to build a life and a family with another man? If it’s not wrong for a man and woman to do those things, why is it wrong for two men or two women?”

Cloud thought for a moment, then his face lit up, like he’d had an epiphany. “It’s not! It’s the same!”

Seph gave an approving nod. “Exactly. When you hear moralizing statements like that, never just accept them. Interrogate the idea and form your own opinion.”

“What’s interrogate?”

“It means to honestly ask yourself what you really think. If you can’t decide, ask someone you trust. Seek out other perspectives and information. Never take a right or wrong statement at face value.”

“Ok. If I can’t decide, I’ll ask you.”

Seph blinked. “Wait, me? You mean…you trust me?”

“Uh-huh!” Cloud beamed. “You’re my guardian angel. Even if you don’t have wings.”

He had to swallow against the aching tightness in his throat, at the pure, guileless sweetness of this innocent child. A child he remembered as a young man, looking upon him with the bitterest animosity, as he drove a sword through his gut—after Sephiroth had done the same to him. But…that wasn’t truly them. They would never become the mortal enemies, who drew one another’s blood in madness and hatred. Destiny was defeated. Their fate was their own to write.

“Cloud, can I tell you a secret?” Sephiroth said, leaning down to speak softly in the boy’s ear. “I do have wings.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY we all deserved a beach episode i think

next chapter

[gallavichfanficlibrary]

Make it Alone, or Keep a Straight Face

Author: tinydancer

Rating: Teen

Status: Completed, May 2014

Words: 2,668

Summary: Mickey’s a sarcastic, cynical piece of shit and he knows it. The last thing he wants to do is go out searching for his perfect match like so many with his little unique ability end up doing. Apparently, anything red and above 85 is considered soul mate material. Mickey had laughed out loud when he read that one.

Tags: Soulmates AU

(Can you believe this fic became ten years old this May?) Imagine if you were the only person who could see how compatible you are with the person next to you, platonically or romantically. A very interesting twist on a soulmate AU trope, I don't think I ever read anything similar before or after I first encountered this story many years ago.

Give it a read and maybe say something nice to the author, because it's been ten years, oh my god :)

Read it here x

[sebinis-fic-recs]

💚 The Language of the Birds by paocai

"The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts, and against all odds, Ominis is selected as the champion. It’s hardly the first cosmic joke from the universe. He doesn't stand a chance, but Sebastian won't take no for an answer. Deep in the bowels of the castle, something is lurking."

Teen and Up

Multichapter, Completed (13/13)

20 211 words

This is a masterpiece. The text is simply amazing, the plot is full of action and emotions, and it's absolutely captivating. The author has come up with such imaginative tasks for the Triwizard Tournament that kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. The suspense and thrill are vivid. And let’s not forget the romance that blooms on the side. As a bonus, there’s also beautiful art and a little comic too!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: Pass Out w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: yes, i am aware of how cliche this fic is, but what can i say? i am a sucker for worried and protective!dean winchester.

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

There was no way you could be a hunter if you feared death. It was funny, talking about being afraid of death as if you hadn't met him and known him personally for a short while. There were many stakes that came with fighting off the supernatural, and that was injuries, and blood loss, lots and lots of blood loss.

You, Sam, and Dean had figured it wouldn't hurt to go out on a hunt, and it just so happened to be a pack of not so friendly werewolves, many of them unhappy that you had stepped into their terf. That's how you ended up thrown against the wall of the rotting building where they were squatting.

You had hit your head hard against the rusted metal, you were pretty sure you had a concussion as you attempted to reach around and touch the back of it. Your vision was fading in and out and you watched the two brothers kill the mutts, not before you had blinked, and everything went black.

The next thing you knew, you had woken up in yours and Dean's shared bed, Dean hunched over, hand clasped in yours as he rested. You knew your boyfriend was concerned, despite his difficulty to express it.

"Dean?" You rasped. His head rose slowly, his eyes blinking a few times before his gaze finally settled onto yours. "Thank god you're okay." Was the first thing he said, bringing your knuckles to his mouth as he placed a kiss in them. "Of course I'd be okay, Dean. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

He let out a watery laugh, "I wouldn't dream of it, Sweetheart."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[profoundbondfanfic]

Ghost Town

Ghost Town by blue_morning, xfancyfranart (@xfancyfranart) Rating: Teen Word Count: 25K

New York editor Castiel Novak is left the deed to a California mountain ghost town and its silver mine by his great uncle Uriel. Ignoring the worsening weather, he drives up from L.A. into the mountains to check out this unusual inheritance, calling the caretaker of the ghost town, Dean Winchester, on the way and asking him to meet him there. Dean rescues Cas after his car goes off the road in a late-spring snowstorm, and they end up having to take refuge in the roadhouse of the ghost town to ride out the storm. Antagonism turns to attraction as they try to figure out the clues left by Uriel to a treasure hidden in the town while having to sleep together for warmth. Unbeknownst to them, they’re being watched by someone from the town’s past, someone trying to play matchmaker.

I love a good setting, and this fic definitely qualifies. Set in a ghost town that Dean has been slowly restoring, Cas and Dean find themselves at odds and snowed in. Dean wants nothing more than to restore the town to some semblance of its former glory so that it can be used as a retreat for people coping with health issues, but when the owner dies and Cas inherits, all of that gets thrown into uncertainty. But with the help of a surprise treasure hunt and the interference of a mysterious spirit, they may find just what they need.

This one is fun. The clues and treasure hunt make for a compelling puzzle. Plus there is some great tropeyness: it's cold and they're snowed in and there's only one bed. What else can they do but fall for each other?

[steddieunderdogfics]

Hey, I don't know if I'm doing this right, but I'd like to submit Ready to Grow Young Again by BonitaBreezy. It's got a very interesting concept (Eddie as Steve's childhood doll/imaginary friend) and only has a few 1000 hits. I feel like that probably counts as underappreciated, right? Anyway, thanks for running this blog. :)

Ready to Grow Young Again by BonitaBreezy

Rating: Teen and Up

35,168 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Imaginary Friends, haunted dolls but in a non threatening way, Childhood Friends, Dream Sharing, Protective Eddie Munson, negligent parents, use of period-typical offensive language, Gay Steve Harrington, imaginary friend Eddie, Pre-Canon, canon adjacent, Friends to Lovers, Semi-Season 4 compliant, Steve gets Vecna’d

Summary:

As a baby, Steve Harrington is gifted a ragdoll. Were he to ask, no one would remember who exactly gifted it, but Steve doesn't ask. Eddie is his best friend, his partner in crime. Eddie is always there for him. As Steve grows older, Eddie becomes more than just a doll to him. He's a personality, a force of nature. He lets Steve cry on his shoulder and protects him from nightmares. No one else seems to notice that Eddie can speak and move and grow larger in a way a doll shouldn't. But why would that matter? Everyone has an imaginary friend.

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[xruzzakix]

Link posted on my blog! Pinned post.

This is just a silly discord server my boyfriend and I made! It's a 14+ (ages 15-20s is recommended, but it's not necessarily restricted to those ages) mass rp server using Tupperbox bot. We've set it up so that you can recommend any fandom and characters for any kind of roleplay(except nsfw) with any amount of people, or if you prefer, just to meet new people and talk. We're very accepting and welcoming, and although it's nothing much, we'd like it if some people joined :)

Some of the fandoms we already have listed are: Star Trek, X-men, Gravity Falls, Hannibal, Good omens, Sherlock, Batman, Supernatural, Rick and Morty, Spiderman, The Owl House, Baldur's Gate 3, Saw, Ghostbusters, Longlegs

For now, the only active roleplay is a multiversal group chat with all the characters on the server, but once we get going, we plan to make many, many more! This post is just to see who, if anyone, is interested :)

[dailysonadowfanfics]

Reading every single Sonadow Fanfic (Ao3): 311/4.790

Title: World Grand Prix

Author: sonicbros

Website: Ao3

Published: 26.08.2019

Word Count: 1.941 words

Language: English

Suited for minors? Teen and up

Warnings: No

Smut? Yes

Finished? Yes

Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog, Rouge the Bat, Miles "Tails" Prower, Knuckles the Echidna, Dr. Eggman, Amy Rose, Vector the Crocodile, Jet the Hawk, Wave the Swallow, Storm the Albatross, Cream the Rabbit, E-10000, Metal Sonic, Omochao (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Ships: Sonic/Shadow

Author Tags: First Kiss, Romantic Confusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sexual Tension, Public Display of Affection, Bad Ending

Author Summary: Eggman reveals he's gathered racing data on all four teams and then challenges them to a final race. Shadow wins, and Sonic gives him a prize he was not expecting.

My summary: Shadow wins the extreme gear grand prix, and Sonic surprises him with a kiss as a prize.

You can read it here

[klanceficatalogue]

Do you have any more secret relationship fics? I'm a sucker for those :D <3

indeed <3 - k

Ain't No River Wide Enough (To Keep Me From Getting To You, Babe) by negativefouriq (2/2 | 4,032 | Mature)

Lance finishes rubbing the lotion into his legs and sets it back on the bedside table, leaning over the laptop screen to grab his hairbrush. He mutters a near-silent “Shit, sorry,” as he accidentally bumps the screen with his chest, catching the edge of his robe on the corner of the screen and loosening it. He adjusts the screen again, carefully grabbing his brush and moving back away so as not to hit it again. When he settles back onto the bed, he catches Keith’s eyes looking hastily back to his face, again. He shakes his head fondly as he untwists his towel from his hair and starts to brush through the damp curls. Poor Keith. Must be hard for him to do anything…fun, ahem, in shared barracks. Rip to him, honestly, because Lance does not have that problem. Say what you will about the castle, but at least he has his own room and a lock on his door. “You’re distracted today,” Lance comments, smirking slightly. He lets his robe slip down his shoulder, watching Keith’s eyes follow the movement. “Am not,” Keith protests. --- OR: Keith and Lance video chat. They both drive each other a little batty.

White light in your arms tonight by mustardlord (1/1 | 4,056 | Teen and Up)

Lance had been in the pod for one movement, and if the team noticed Keith spent his days next to Lance, they didn't mention it. He would stay on his side, often skipping meals and forgetting to take care of himself. He sometimes went to the training grounds when it was all too much. Keith set the training bots to a high difficulty and got his ass handed to him, but at least he didn't worry about anything other than fighting. or After a month secretly together, Lance suffers an accident and Keith doesn't know what to do with himself.

//violence //temporary character death

you're a dream to me by icedpink (1/1 | 6,107 | Teen and Up)

"Did you know you snore?" Keith asks, still laughing. The team finds out about Keith and Lance's relationship due to snoring, of all things.

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Chapter 10: Father, Verb

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

(prev chapter and ao3 linked at bottom)

rating: teen and up CW: major character death but he has it SO coming

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY HERE IS THE FINAL CHAPTER!!!!!! I SOMEHOW DID IT ON TIME…ISH Thanks to everyone who has commented and supported my story, even though there's no naughty stuff at all! You're the real heroes!!! ♥️⚰️🪽♥️ PS: Stay tuned for the epilogue and a silly side-story!!!

Vincent staggered, clutching his abdomen, where a long, thin blade impaled him, all the way through, sticking out of his back. He stumbled forward, as Sephiroth yanked the sword out. Sephiroth caught him, before he fell, and Vincent leaned heavily on him.

The sword wounds all over his torso were oozing a black, tar-like substance, that must be his blood. The ragged holes in Sephiroth’s chest, torn open by shots from Cerberus, had already begun to knit back together.

“Vincent…do you love me?”

A sea of flames billowed and roared all around them, accompanied by screams and wails, and the muffled thunder of explosions in the distance.

“Yes. I do.”

Sephiroth smiled. A sad, wistful smile, not that deranged one that had been his only facial expression, since he learned the truth of his origins. “You are the only person who ever has.”

“What has…my love…done for you?” Vincent rasped, between labored breaths. “Did it protect you? Did it stop you being tortured and brainwashed, by that monster?”

“No. But it’s not because your love wasn’t strong enough. I know, now, that you were only a chained dog. And that I was the whip your masters used to control you.”

Vincent convulsed and doubled over, coughing up a mouthful of black blood. Sephiroth steadied him on his feet, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.

“I w—I was going to kill you,” he panted. “Hojo told me you were my son. I was going to kill you, anyway.”

“I know.”

“Your mother…came to me. In my dreams. She showed me…her visions. The world on fire. Millions dead. And you responsible. She begged me to kill you. To save the world. I thought I could. But…then I saw you, face to face. You weren’t a god of destruction or a fallen angel. You were just a little boy. You were my little boy. How could I kill you? How could I not…how could I not fall in love with you, instead?”

“You came to me, in my dreams,” Sephiroth answered. “Before we met. I felt your killing intent, but also your hesitation. And I felt you change. That night when I first asked you, I already knew you loved me. I always suspected that you were my father, especially since the old man was always so insistent that you were not. But…then he showed me the report. Whether or not it was true, I knew it meant that you were gone. It broke me. I shut myself down. Became a compliant machine. Spent ten years convincing myself that I believed you had betrayed me. And yet, there was something always nagging at me. Wherever they sent me, I quietly searched for signs of you. Listened for rumors of your activities or whereabouts. But I never found anything. A few months ago, I used my position to demand access to Shinra’s physical archives and I had a look, for myself. There you were. Your entire career and life, boiled down to a few pages and photographs, in a faded folder. Medals, distinctions, honors…killed in action, in March of 1977. The year I was born.”

“I’m so sorry, Seph,” Vincent shuddered, clenching his teeth against a stab of pain. “I’m sorry that I…that I couldn’t protect you. I wanted to, so badly, I almost made myself believe that I could. But in the end, I failed you. I was never your father.”

“Father, verb: to take responsibility; to care for someone, as a father might,” Sephiroth said, as if by rote. “The act of love that makes one a father need not be any great, heroic deed. It may be something as simple as holding a child’s hand, when he’s afraid. Or teaching him to eat spaghetti.”

Vincent looked up at his son, who had grown into a man, in his absence. The boy who had been only chest-high, when they met, was now a full six inches taller than him, and a good deal broader in the chest and shoulders. A strand of silver hair hung in his seraphic face. Vincent reached up and brushed it back.

Sephiroth grabbed the wrist and dragged him into an embrace, clutching him tightly against his chest; holding him, as he had once been held by him.

“Vincent, you are my father,” he murmured in his ear. “You are my father, and I am not your fault. You did everything you could. But I was born to be a monster. I never had a chance.”

“No!” Vincent said, pulling away. “You are not a monster, Seph. Not until you choose to become one.”

Sephiroth laughed bitterly. “As you can see, I have already chosen.”

“Will it do any good to beg you to stop this? To come away with me, somewhere they can’t find us, and leave all of this behind? The way you always wanted to?”

“It is true. That was all I ever wanted. To have a peaceful life, with you. Such a pretty dream.”

“It’s not too late,” Vincent persisted. “We can have that. We can leave, together, right now, and never look back.”

“It is too late, for me,” Sephiroth sighed, looking out over the blazing inferno he’d made of the once idyllic little town. “But it won’t be too late for him. When we find him, it won’t be too late, anymore. Then, we’ll set all of this right.”

Vincent shook his head, not understanding. “What do you mean? Find who?”

Laying a gloved hand on his cheek, Sephiroth leaned down and pressed his warm lips to Vincent’s, waxen and icy cold. A single, chaste kiss. A punctuation mark, on a lifetime of grief and longing, and love obstructed. A kiss goodbye.

Then his hand dropped from Vincent’s cheek, onto his chest, laying over the place where his heart would be. “I am afraid I need…one last thing from you.”

“Seph, don’t—don’t do this!” Vincent gasped, struggling to wrench himself free, but Sephiroth held him fast. “Please don’t do this, I’m begging you!”

“I’m sorry, father. It’s the only way.”

Sephiroth curled his gloved fingers, and little wisps of pale light began wafting up from Vincent’s chest. Vincent twisted and convulsed in Sephiroth’s iron embrace, roaring with agony, as the white-hot razorblades of pain rent his body apart.

With a sickening, wet, cracking sound, a glowing orb burst through his ribcage, and landed in Sephiroth’s palm. One could see that it had been beautiful, but now it was severely damaged, from being torn forcefully out of his body, and there were stress cracks all over the luminous surface.

Viscous, black tears spilled down Vincent’s white cheeks. “Seph….please.”

Sephiroth closed his gloved fingers around the orb and squeezed. With a blinding flash, it exploded into glittering dust, releasing a shockwave, that fanned the raging flames in the village, and made even Sephiroth stagger.

Vincent’s body went rigid in his arms. Sephiroth watched as it began to warp and twist. Massive wings, black and crimson and membranous, burst out from his shoulder blades. Black blood poured from his mouth, all over Sephiroth’s bare chest, as his teeth lengthened into cruel fangs.

Suddenly unfurling its wings, the demon broke Sephiroth’s hold and threw him off with ease. Its face was still Vincent’s, but its skin was ash grey, and its eyes blazed like twin suns, below the jagged crown of Chaos.

“You dare summon me, bastard whelp of the plague mother,” the creature snarled, in a monstrous, hyper-resonant distortion of Vincent’s voice. “Here I am. Stand forth and be purified.”

Sephiroth extended his arm, holding Masamune out before him, horizontally. The he opened his hand and dropped it into the dirt, between them, with a ringing thud. “Chaos. I will not resist you. The corruption in me runs too deep, to be purified. I have come to surrender myself, and accept your judgement.”

Chaos looked down at the blade, and back up at his face. “Then I shall grant you a quick death.”

In its clawed hand, it held the weapon called Death Penalty. Legend had it that in the creature’s original incarnation, its weapon had been a reaper’s scythe, which would deal death with a single stroke, to any being, god or mortal, that Chaos judged to be guilty.

In its current incarnation, the scythe had taken on the aspect of Vincent’s gun, Cerberus, making itself into a heavy, black hand-cannon, with ornate, silver filigree work, and three massive barrels.

The demon raised its weapon and leveled the barrels at Sephiroth’s face.

Sephiroth smiled and closed his eyes.

The thunderous report split the air, echoing for miles around, as Death Penalty delivered its judgement. Since the accused surrendered willingly, death was clean and instantaneous, leaving no gore or anything so vulgar behind. Only a fine, crimson spray, like mist.

Sephiroth’s headless body fell heavily to the ground, where it lay prone, atop Masamune, in a rapidly spreading pool of crimson blood.

Chaos hovered in the air, observing, as the spirit left the body, and began to slip into the lifestream. At the last moment, the ancient demon heard an echo of laughter, and a cold voice on the wind, speaking strange words, which seemed to hold no particular meaning. And yet, those words would alter the fate of the world.

Chocolate chip cookies.

The same three words the older version whispered to him, before plunging Sephiroth back into the sea of memory, where he experienced the entire sequence of events, up to his death, in a split second, and finally understood what to do.

Vincent staggered, clutching his chest, where the long, thin blade impaled him, all the way through, sticking out of his back. He fell backward, as Sephiroth yanked the sword out, but Sephiroth caught him, and lowered him gently to the ground, cradling him in his lap.

The wounds all over his torso were oozing black, tar-like blood. The ragged slashes in Sephiroth’s face and chest, torn open by the beast’s claws, had already knit themselves back together.

“Vincent…do you love me?”

Dirt and bits of masonry rained down, around them, accompanied by the muffled thunder of explosions, somewhere high above.

Viscous, black tears spilled down Vincent’s white cheeks. “Yes. I do.”

Carefully wiping away the tears, Sephiroth leaned down and pressed his warm lips to Vincent’s, waxen and icy cold. As he did, he laid his hand on the bleeding wound in his chest, over the place where his heart would be.

“I am afraid I still need one thing from you.”

“Seph, don’t—don’t do this,” Vincent murmured. “Please don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry, father. It’s the only way.”

Sephiroth curled his gloved fingers, and little wisps of pale light began wafting up from Vincent’s chest. He gave a shudder, then his eyes fell closed and he went still in Sephiroth’s embrace, as a glowing orb slipped easily through the extremely precise wound in his ribcage, and landed in Sephiroth’s palm. It was pristine and beautiful, like a galaxy of stars, contained in a snow globe.

“Be careful, you idiot child!” Hojo bellowed, from a few meters behind him. “Don’t play around with that, it’s volatile and extremely valuable!! Give it to me!”

Laying Vincent’s body down carefully, on the rubble-strewn concrete, Sephiroth staggered to his feet and turned around, to stand between him and Hojo, who had approached and held out his hand expectantly.

“You know what this is?” Sephiroth asked, holding the orb up, so that its glimmering light illuminated his dirt-streaked face.

“Yes, yes, of course I do,” Hojo said impatiently. “It’s the protomateria that woman put in the dead dog, to bring him back to life. The only way to kill him is to remove it, so well done. Hurry up and give it to me, before you break it.”

To his annoyance, Sephiroth only laughed. “Ah, is that what she told you? That removing the protomateria would kill him? What a clever woman Lucrecia was, to leave her lover one last insurance policy, against your malice.”

Hojo’s face went red, contorted with sudden fury. “How dare you!! How dare you speak her name with your worthless mouth! That dog was not her lover! She was mine! She was my woman and you are my son! Mine! Not his!!”

“Your jealousy and malice always were your blind spot,” Sephiroth observed, as he absorbed the radiant orb into his palm. “Knowing that you’d want to kill my father, eventually, she left you the ostensible method to do so, scattered through her notes, seemingly unintentional. Which was the only way you’d trust it.”

“What are you yapping about, brat?” Hojo said irritably. “I don’t know where you heard all of this nonsense, but that dog was not your father! I am! I have the legal documentation to prove it. Now, get that materia out of your body and hand it over, before it causes some kind of—”

He broke off and his expression changed. Behind Sephiroth, two enormous, black wings suddenly unfurled. For a moment, it looked as if they belonged to the boy, making Hojo squint and push up his cracked spectacles. Then his eyes went wide.

“No. No, I don’t believe it! The protomateria—how can he be alive?!”

“Were you paying attention to anything I said? Lucrecia tricked you. The protomateria was never keeping him alive.” Sephiroth smiled eerily, as the demon rose into the air behind him, looming over them, wings spread and eyes ablaze. “It was holding him back.”

“Ch—Chaos!” Hojo gasped, stumbling backward and sitting down hard, in the loose rubble. “What have you done, you idiot child! The demon can’t be controlled! It’ll kill us both!!”

“You dare summon me, bastard whelp of the plague mother,” the creature snarled, in a monstrous, hyper-resonant distortion of Vincent’s voice. “Here I am. Stand forth a—”

Sephiroth held up a hand and its voice choked off, strangled in its throat. As he slowly lowered the hand, the demon descended, as if pressed down by some invisible weight, until it was forced to kneel at Sephiroth’s side, eyes blazing with fury, its jagged crown bowed low, till it almost touched the ground.

“Fascinating, fascinating,” Hojo muttered, always the scientist, in spite of himself. “He has the creature under control, using the influence of the protomateria from inside his own body. This is groundbreaking. If we can harness the power of Chaos, it could change everything! Boy! How are you doing that? How did you know to do it?”

Sephiroth turned to him, with an expression of supreme disdain. “Are you aware that you have never once spoken the name you gave me?”

“Ha! The name I gave you, indeed!” Hojo scoffed. “Sephiroth was never a name, it was a project designation. It was only put on your birth certificate because the registry office wouldn’t accept ‘Asset S’. Would you like me to call you that?”

He staggered under this revelation. None of the future versions had known, either. That they never even had a name. For a beat, there was stunned silence in his head.

Hojo sneered, seeing his reaction. “Are you going to cry? Just when I thought you were through disappointing me.”

Sephiroth stepped forward and brought his foot down on Hojo’s shin, snapping the bone like matchwood. Hojo gave a shout and began howling in pain, rolling back and forth in the dirt and debris.

“Are you going to cry?” Sephiroth asked icily. “Just when I thought you were through disappointing me. Chaos, take us to the reactor. It’s time we put an end to this.”

“Th—the reactor?” Hojo sputtered. “What the hell do you want with the reactor! There’s no reason to—AAAAHHH!!”

Hundreds of meters above the deep sub-basement arena, at ground level, Shinra troop transports and helicopters were parked haphazardly about, and uniformed Shinra troops had swarmed the place like ants.

Some had cordoned off the area and were standing guard, keeping all the curious civilians from the town away, some were picking carefully through the blasted remains of Shinra manor, searching for any survivors, and some were guarding the ominously black and yawning elevator shaft, into which the asset had been last seen falling (or jumping, depending on who you asked).

Other units had been sent to recon where the evacuation tunnels surfaced, several kilometers down the road, but since the asset was rumored to possess the ability to fly, it was necessary to guard the elevator shaft as well.

Suddenly, to the immediate discomfiture of the soldiers standing guard, the ground began to buck and rumble, beneath their feet, and a strange sound came echoing up through the shaft.

Before they’d even had time to raise their weapons, an enormous ball of whirling shadows and purple lightning exploded out of the elevator shaft, throwing them all to the ground, before it shot away like a bullet, toward Mt. Nibel, making a strange, nasal wailing as it went.

“What the hell was that!” one of the commanders demanded, of no one in particular.

“It…sounded like Director Hojo, sir,” his second-in-command ventured, earning himself a glare from his superior.

Hojo was still howling and cursing, when Chaos dumped him on the floor, outside the steel doors, deep inside the Nibel reactor, with the word ‘Jenova’ emblazoned above them, like a shop sign.

“Mother, father and I have come for you,” Sephiroth said, spreading his arms. “Open the way for us.”

There were a few beats in which nothing happened.

“It seems mother is not eager to see us. Father, if you would.”

Chaos stuck its claws through the blast doors like they were made of tinfoil, and ripped them out of the frame, letting them fall crumpled and torn, to the floor. Then he and Sephiroth strode into the dark chamber, full of huge, black pipes connected to a brightly glowing tank. There was a metal figure mounted on a pedestal in front of it, attached to winglike protrusions of tubes on both sides, so that it looked like a grotesque sculpture of an angel.

“What do you think you’re doing! You can’t go in there!” Hojo shrieked, crawling after them, dragging his broken leg behind him.

“Chaos. Here is your old enemy,” Sephiroth said to the demon. “You are the only one who can truly destroy her, and erase her foul legacy from this world.”

“No! Stop it this instant, boy!!” Hojo roared from behind them. “You’ve had your tantrum, now this is going too far! You have no idea what you’re doing!!”

Sephiroth hopped down from the pipe he and Chaos hand been standing on, and dragged Hojo up, holding his jaw and forcing him to look up at the tank.

Chaos ripped the metal figure off the mounting and tossed it away, revealing the mutilated creature in the tank; half humanoid, with bizarre, calcified protrusions, and mottled, rotted hide. There was a mechanical apparatus on its head and a huge tube sticking out of its torso. Its dead face only resembled Sephiroth’s by four parts out of ten, but its long, silver hair made the resemblance seem far more pronounced.

“Witness the end of this ancient monstrosity,” Sephiroth said to Hojo. “Witness the end of all the suffering you have caused. At the hands of the man you murdered, and the child you destroyed.”

Chaos drew the Death Penalty and fired a slow-moving ball of purple-black plasma, that struck the tank and exploded the thick glass, sucking everything into a roiling mass of darkness, with a roar like a jet engine, as matter was obliterated, faster than air could rushed in to fill the vacuum.

That was it. A few seconds, and it was done. The dark mass collapsed on itself, taking the creature they had called Jenova with it. Total annihilation, leaving only a cleanly empty space, inside the shattered tank. Hojo cursed and raged, beating Sephiroth with his gnarled fists, to no avail.

Chaos floated down from the scene of Jenova’s demise and alit in front of them.

“So, it is done. We should leave this place, quickly. The reactor is unstable, without her, and will melt down soon.” Sephiroth’s glowing, green eyes turned on Hojo. “But first, I will deal with him. Hold him.”

“W—what do you think you’re doing now!” Hojo demanded, as Chaos took him by the arms and held him upright, in front of Sephiroth. “You can’t kill me! Shinra will never let you go! They’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth, you stupid brat!!”

“Kill you?” Sephiroth’s silver eyebrows went up. “Death is too good for you. You deserve to be mutilated and crippled, to lose everything you have ever cared about, and to live on, in misery and hopelessness, till decrepitude and disease waste your pitiful body, and you die wretched and alone, vainly clinging to the life that is so hateful to you.”

Hojo glared at him, baring his teeth fiercely, but failing to entirely conceal the trembling of his body, in fear of the cruel and coldblooded young monster he’d raised, with his own hands.

“However,” Sephiroth said, drawing Masamune from thin air. “There is no telling what schemes you might cook up, to escape punishment and make others suffer, if you’re allowed to live, and I don’t think tormenting you is worth risking another innocent person’s pain.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a gentle register, stroking the old man’s weathered cheek, in a mockery of tenderness. “You’re just…not all that important, to me.”

“You imp!” Hojo roared. “You ungrateful, worthless, spawn of that scheming bitch and her—”

There was a flicker of light, and Hojo’s voice cut off, mid harangue, as if someone had flipped a switch. His mouth hung open and his eyes went wide, in an odd expression of perplexity and surprise.

Then his head slid neatly from his neck and bounced across the floor, rolling to stop, a few meters away. The cracked spectacles sat somewhat askew on his face, before his dead, unseeing eyes, forever frozen in that puzzled expression. It was a rather ridiculous end, to the life of a man who had brought so many other lives to ruin and desolation.

Chaos tossed the body aside, and stood looking down at Sephiroth, with its blazing, yellow eyes, fangs visible between its parted, grey lips.

“I know. There is still a remnant of her,” Sephiroth said, with a rueful smile. “A fragment of her will, which she attached to one of my other versions, before he died. It mimics our voice and pretends to be one of us, but she overreached. I knew it was her, the moment she urged us to kill you. With that piece of her will, and her cells in my body, she could rebuild herself in me, and make me her vessel. You must purify me. That is the only way to truly rewrite destiny, and change the fate of this world.” He laid his hand on his heart. “I am the variable. I always was.”

The Death Penalty appeared again, in the clawed hand of Chaos.

“When I’m dead, the protomateria will return to you, on its own. I’m sorry I took it by force, father. I couldn’t let you be in control. You’d never be able to kill me. I’m sorry you’ll remember my death, but there’s no other way. No one else can do it. Here.”

Dashing away the tears that had begun rolling down his face yet again, despite the fact he never cried, he drew out his locket, which he pulled off his neck and put into Chaos’ other hand.

“My mother’s body is in a cave just southwest of here, crystallized in mako. Go and visit her, for me. Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t come see her. Tell her you did what she asked, and that she can rest in peace, now. The cycle of bloodshed and destruction ends here. With me. The future will be a clean slate, now. Whatever happens to this world, everyone will be free to write their own destiny, without the interference of gods and monsters.”

Alarm klaxons began blaring outside the chamber, along with a mechanical voice announcing an imminent meltdown, and advising all staff to evacuate promptly. Amber emergency lights could be seen flashing in a rotating pattern, through the torn open doorway.

“Well. I suppose it’s time,” Sephiroth sighed. “Chaos, I am ready to accept your judgment. Purify me.”

Chaos raised the Death Penalty, leveling the massive, triple barrel at the child’s dirt and tear-streaked, but still divinely beautiful face.

Sephiroth smiled and closed his eyes. “Chocolate chip cookies.”

There was a loud, echoing bang, in the Jenova chamber. But it wasn’t the obliterating thunder of the weapon of Chaos, he’d experienced when his other self died.

Sephiroth’s eyes snapped open, to see the Death Penalty lying on the floor, where it had fallen, then he gave a startled cry, as a huge, clawed hand took him by the throat.

Chaos dragged him close, baring its long fangs. A thick, purple-black miasma poured from its maw like heavy smoke, and entered Sephiroth’s mouth and nose and eyes. He didn’t have time to wonder what was happening, before soul-rending agony was threshing his insides, shredding his muscle and sinew and bone, ripping his body apart, cell by cell.

He felt his consciousness depart the material world, and slip into a place he knew well, from the memories of his future selves. The Edge of Creation. Before him, stood all his older versions, in a protective ring, surrounding one—the false self, that was the will of the creature called Jenova.

The nihility of Chaos burst in and raged like a storm around them, tearing out the will of Jenova by its roots, while it clung to the child’s body in animal desperation, determined to save itself, or drag him with it, into annihilation.

But for all its power and cunning, it was just a primitive beast, and a multitude of Sephiroths—an army of himself—had it caged within their superior will. In the end, all it could do was scream and howl in wordless fury, over losing the game it had played for tens of millennia, as its old enemy finally devoured it.

The older version from eleven years in the future turned to him and smiled, then gave him an abrupt, hard shove, sending him plummeting backward into a dark vortex of pain and confusion. But at the end of that black tunnel of madness and anguish, Sephiroth came out, alive and intact.

Almost intact. He was missing something essential, the loss of which he could feel keenly, a hollow ache, in his whole being. He was alone, he realized. Jenova was gone—not only its will from his mind, but all its corrupt cells from his body, as well.

His other selves were silent, because they had never existed, now. Fate had been changed. Destiny had been rewritten. And yet, he was alive.  

In his bewilderment, he became gradually aware of another voice, calling to him, from outside himself.

“Seph! Seph, are you alright?” It was still the resonant, inhuman rasp of Chaos, but it was also Vincent’s voice. Sephiroth looked up into the demon’s molten-gold eyes.

“F—father,” he faltered, through choking tears. “Why am I alive? What happened?”

“Chaos purified you, just as you asked. I saw…but I won’t ask. You can tell me, when you are ready.”

“But you’re still Chaos. How are you…you?”

“Because you have my heart,” Vincent said, laying a clawed hand on the boy’s chest. “Keep it with you, from now on. You are a better protector of it, than I ever was.”

Vincent lifted him in his arms, and Sephiroth buried his face in his father’s chest, not the slightest bit repulsed by his twisted, monstrous form, and broke down into deep, racking sobs, as if making up for all the years of stifled grief and tearless suffering, all at once. Finally, worn out with weeping, and with the tremendous strain of the literal world-changing events of the day, the boy passed out, with his silver head on his father’s shoulder.

Late that night, amidst the canopy of twinkling stars, Vincent slowed his flight and looked out over the world far below. He was free. Finally free. Of Shinra, of Hojo, of Chaos, and most importantly, of the chains of guilt and self loathing, that had kept him paralyzed and submissive—only a passive participant in his own life, for so many years.

“I didn’t do what you asked,” he said softly, looking back the way they’d come. “But I think you knew I never could. I’ll take care of him, for you. And I’ll never let anyone hurt him, again. You can rest in peace, now.”

Wrapping his arms more tightly around his sleeping son, he pressed a kiss to his silver hair, then spread his magnificent demonic wings, and soared away, into the boundless, starlit sky.

SHINRA INTERNAL MEMO DATE: Oct. 14, 19XX DEPARTMENT: Public Security Division SENDER: Head of Department of Administrative Research RECIPIENT: President Shinra SUBJECT: SHINRA MANOR AND NIBELHEIM REACTOR INCIDENTS Mr. President, I have received your orders to expedite this investigation, and am taking all necessary steps to do so. Remains of Director Hojo and Asset S have yet to be recovered, but both are presumed dead. Preserved remains of the JENOVA life form have not been located, due to the high contamination levels at the site, but recovery appears unlikely, given the thoroughness of the destruction, caused by the uncontrolled fusion reaction in the mako core. If I may be frank, sir, we are looking at one hell of a mess, over here. The reactor meltdown was contained within the sub-levels, by an unknown magnetic field anomaly, which the science folks are calling an ‘act of god,’ without a hint of irony. The outer structure is sound, but the whole thing will have to be gutted and rebuilt. Whether it’s worth the cost, is up to yourself and the board. Regarding Shinra Manor, human casualties are estimated in the hundreds, including military and civilian personnel. The few witnesses left alive claim the fourteen-year-old asset went berserk and destroyed the Manor, singlehandedly. Shinra troops responding to the distress call witnessed the asset leaping down the elevator shaft, as they arrived. Evacuated manor personnel also attest to Director Hojo’s presence in the sub-basement emergency shelter, shortly before the entire sub-structure collapsed, burying him, the asset and whatever else he was keeping down there, under thousands of tons of rock. The logistics people estimate it’ll take years to excavate and sort through. In my professional opinion, the reactor and manor are a total loss. Recommend disposing of remaining eye-witnesses, disseminating official version of events through the usual channels, nominal compensation to Nibelheim residents, and standard relocation packages to local reactor employees. Regarding former Special Security Agent Vincent Valentine: it is the opinion of this agency that he poses no material threat to Shinra or its interests. We will be keeping an eye on him, from time to time, just in case. —Veld  

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY VELD CAMEO FOR THE NERDS!!!

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