The snow feels wrong. It mushes against the strange pliant dough stretched across her soles, shoots her through with a kind of pain she's never felt before. It bites, metallic, as though she can feel the pinprick of each shard of each snow flake. The air, too, grips her.
All of this, wrong. Never before had the winds caused her pain, nor had snow felt anything but pleasant on even her tenderest scales.
Winter has abandoned her. It was in her very weft and now all she has is this naked pink putty. No way for a dragon to live.
----------------------------
Written for @fury-brand in support of Gaza eSims (more details here, four spots still open!).
This features her Dungeons and Dragons character Dia Istehar. She has a whole tag of amazing Dia art including a 21 page comic starring Dia, so if this piques your interest, check it out!
Send an eSim to [email protected] and I'll write you a ficlet (200-400 words) or a drabble (100 words exactly) at your request
Directions for buying and sending eSims are here:
My submit box is open for proof. I'll write about a wide variety of topics and most pairings including explicit sex/nsfw and some fetishes (for adults only).
I reserve the right to ask you to change your request if I'm not comfortable writing your first request. Please be respectful and practice discretion.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Code Geass, 機動戦士ガンダム | Mobile Suit Gundam (TV 1979)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia, Char Aznable
Additional Tags: Meta, Essays, Discussion of Suzaku/Lelouch pairing, Discussion of Char/Amuro pairing, Homophobia, Imperialism, Character Analysis, Analysis, queer studies, media representation, LGBTQ in anime, Nonfiction
Summary:
Nonfiction Essay: How did Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) influence Code Geass (2006)? This piece looks at how Sunrise leverages a diversity of high-appeal character traits and fanservice to gain the widest possible audience, while avoiding any risky moves that might alienate conservative audiences. But does the quest for popularity risk the artistic integrity of the work? In the decades between the two shows, and the decades since, has there been noteworthy progress?
Written for Geass Fragments: A Code Geass Fanzine.
Preview of my Zine piece for Geass Fragments: A Code Geass Fanzine!
You can find them here on Tumblr: @geasszine
I'd like to thank @tofucasserole and @fury-brand for helping me with the Absolute Mess™ that was my first draft of this essay.
Additional very special thanks to @alchimique and the editors working on the zine who helped me polish the subsequent drafts to a shine, and to my fellow zine contributors who talked through ideas with me, helped me choose areas of focus, and encouraged my use of the (working) title The Chad Char vs The Virgin Lelouch.
It was a pleasure to work collaboratively with passionate fans of Code Geass on this project, and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to participate. I can't wait to see the final zine when it's all done.
A fan anthology for charity. Featuring 36 contributors and 80+ pages of content!
✧✧✧✧✧
Thank you for sharing! We greatly appreciate it!
@anizines @fandomzines @zineapps @zinesubmissions @zinesunlimited
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Barret recalls the fateful decision to allow Shinra into Corel, what led him to that point and what happened as a result. Looking further back, he realizes that Shinra was not the only company to exploit Corel’s natural resources for profit, and that while mako may be the blood of the planet, coal comes from veins just the same.
Written for Return to the Planet: A Final Fantasy VII 25th anniversary zine. The zine is available for free download at @ff7ogzine
Special thanks to @nautilusopus for initial outline review and comment “Angry leftist screed (complimentary)” , and to @fury-brand for beta.
Our free digital anniversary zine, Return to the Planet is now available to read and download (link to Google Drive). A lot of love went into this project, and we're so excited to share it with you!
Our digital merch bundle is also live! Available with a minimum $1 donation to Rainforest Foundation US. Please check out our campaign on Tiltify at https://tiltify.com/@ff7ogzine/ff7ogzine. More info coming soon!
This project was made possible by the efforts of our artists, fanfiction and nonfiction writers. If you enjoyed the zine and would like to leave your thoughts, please sign our guestbook: https://forms.gle/xzUetHjnC4spPUFJ9 We can't wait to hear what you think!
If you'd like to find out more about the project, please visit our website http://whitemateria.net/ff7ogzine/. We're also running an interest check for a physical print of Return to the Planet--if you enjoyed the zine and would like a print copy of it, fill out the form here! https://forms.gle/Q5nbBaeERorCYNL97
We're so excited to celebrate this anniversary with you! We hope you enjoy the zine! And now...
Next up is the incisive @la-regina-scrive, one of our zine mods!
In her own words:
Long time writer and Final Fantasy VII fan. Classic Sephiroth fangirl. Obnoxious OG purist on main. I’m excited to be part of this project and hope you enjoy it!
Billie will be contributing as a fanfiction writer. We’re so happy to have her on board!
We are so, so excited to finally announce our contributor lineup for Return to the Planet! With 8 nonfiction writers, 14 fanfiction writers and 40 artists, we know this zine is going to be amazing!
Nonfiction Writers
Kathryn Hemmann, Harry Mackin, Richard Bounds, @themateriodictable, Mr. Itchy Wrath, @spectroscopes, @makosinnergy, @cryoftheplanet
Join us for 🍁🎃 Final Fantasy VII Halloween Week 🎃🍁 from Oct 25 - Oct 31!
Happy first day of Spooky Season, and get ready for the second annual #ffviihalloween week! Use the tag to contribute writing, art, graphics and anything else based on FFVII through the week of Halloween. All topics and characters are welcome.
Prompt List
OCT 25 🧪 Frankenstein
mad science / the modern prometheus
OCT 26 ❄️ The Thing
trapped with the eldritch / cosmic horror / aliens
OCT 27 🤖 Black Mirror
late stage capitalism / mind control / unreliable memories
OCT 28 👻 The Ring
japanese ghosts / youkai / other folklore
OCT 29 🐐 Pan’s Labyrinth
real world evil meets magical evil / illusion and reality
OCT 30 🌲 Annihilation
environmental horror / place as monster
Summary: Sephiroth and Cloud agree to a truce. Feldspar and Obsidian return. Enemies-to-frenemies antics.
“You are out of milk.”
Cloud jumped about two feet in the air as he startled. He fixed his wild glare in the direction of the refrigerator, and sure enough, he was there. That asshole. With the carton in his hand.
To punctuate his point, the asshole lifted the carton to his mouth and took a swig, then rattled it to illustrate that it was empty.
This was not the first time Sephiroth had appeared inside his home. But it happened just rarely enough that it always caught Cloud by surprise.
“How do you keep getting in here?” he demanded.
“Your threshold is not barred to the likes of me, Cloud.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Without waiting for an answer, he stormed up to Sephiroth and snatched the empty milk carton.
“It means that I can walk through that door as easily as I can walk through you.” With no further warning, Sephiroth strode forward and passed through Cloud like he was nothing, leaving Cloud with the sickening feeling of his cells shifting and then resettling. Any anger dissolved in the unease and thrill of terror it sent through him, and he dropped the empty milk carton as he brought his hands to his face and chest to make sure everything was still in the right place. Satisfied that he seemed to be intact and not deformed in any way he could detect, he caught his breath and tried to calm down.
Sephiroth was seated on the couch, waiting lazily for Cloud. The anger returned as he beelined for Sephiroth, but it didn’t burn with the same heat. At least with Sephiroth seated, Cloud could glare downward at him, and didn’t have to worry about another cellular shuffle right away.
“What are you even doing here?” Cloud asked.
“Getting something to drink, or at least trying to,” Sephiroth replied with a wolfish grin. The flame of anger intensified.
“I mean why are you getting something to drink here. With me. Instead of anywhere else.”
“Am I not an old acquaintance? We’ve known each other so long. Had so many shared experiences. Would you turn me out of your home?”
Gods, he was such a smug little shit. Such an asshole. Cloud gritted his teeth. “I would. You aren’t welcome here. I hate you and wish you stayed dead for good. Now get out.”
“Well that won’t do, perpetually linked as we are. Perhaps, Cloud, this is an opportunity to mend fences. Bury hatchets.” Sephiroth gestured his fingers in a tight loop, adding, “That sort of thing.”
“You want to make up. You. Want to make up. With me.” Cloud tried to sound as deeply cynical as possible.
“Yes,” Sephiroth answered, but the arrogant way he spread his arms across the back of the couch undercut any attempt at sincerity. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, if you will.”
“Oh, you, you are willing. So gracious of you! You haven’t even apologized to me, or to Tifa, or, or, or to anybody else in Avalanche!” Cloud’s voice increased in volume as he continued.
“Is that what it would take?” Sephiroth asked. He still looked far too comfortable but the question sounded legitimate. Cloud was ready to break his face in with his fists if this turned out to be some kind of joke, so he took the bait.
“Not just that, but it’s a start. You’d have to say you’re sorry. To everybody. And you’d have to mean it. You’d have to sound contrite, not do any of your smug asshole routine,” Cloud said, gesturing up and down over Sephiroth’s general appearance. He raised an eyebrow, but Cloud ignored him. “Maybe, maybe if you expressed some genuine regret we could start the healing process. And no more, you know, coming in here and bugging me and raiding my fridge and phasing through me like some kind of goddamn ghost!” Cloud’s voice was hitting the highest pitch of his register by the end of his speech.
Sephiroth brought his hands together, tented his fingers, and looked thoughtful.
“These would be acceptable truce terms,” he said after a long moment. “Is a kowtow necessary or is vocal contrition sufficient?”
“You could bow.”
Sephiroth’s mouth twitched. “That would be pushing it.”
“Oh? Oh would that be too much? Well nuts to your pride. I want a ninety-degree bow. For everybody.”
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. “Tifa and the others will receive one bow. You’ve killed me enough times that I consider us even.”
Cloud knew they were nowhere near close to even, not by a long shot, especially because the so-called killing never seemed to take. But if it meant the end of these unwelcome visits to his home he was willing to take it.
“Fine. Okay? Fine. It’s a deal.”
“Then we have a truce. Does that mean I can stay?”
“No it doesn’t. I still hate you and want you out of my house. Did you really come here just to drink my milk and bug me? Really though, I have to know, now that I’ve agreed to this shit. Are you even sorry, at all? Do you have any actual regrets?”
To Cloud’s surprise, Sephiroth looked thoughtful and clasped his hands together. He looked up and seemed to give some real, genuine consideration to the question.
“I do have a regret, in fact,” Sephiroth answered.
Perhaps, Cloud thought, Sephiroth was serious about this whole mending fences and burying hatchets business. He was still going about it in the most obnoxious way possible, but maybe Sephiroth really meant it.
Sephiroth continued with complete sincerity, “I had two cats. I abandoned them. I haven’t seen them in eight years.” His eyes were unfocused, staring into the distance.
“I hope they’re okay,” he added.
Sephiroth had barely finished the word “okay” before Cloud’s fist connected with his jaw, and there was an audible crack as the bone fractured.
“You asshole, don’t fuck with me!” Cloud yelled, throwing a second punch. Sephiroth caught this one, and followed up with a tackle since he was already at the perfect height. The coffee table collapsed under their combined weight as they scuffled, getting in a few stray punches. Cloud was mostly able to hit him in the back, while Sephiroth had the easiest time going for Cloud’s stomach. Sephiroth yowled as Cloud gave a fistful of silver hair a good yank. He attempted to follow the hair pull with a hit to Sephiroth’s jaw in the same place, but Sephiroth leaned forward out of the way and shoved Cloud aside.
They got to their feet, standing apart, catching their breath and glaring daggers at each other.
“You broke the truce in a pitifully short time. That counts as your apology,” Sephiroth said, bringing a hand up to his jaw.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Tch,” Sephiroth hissed and dropped his hand. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah I bet.” Cloud noticed a visible bruise, but not much more. He knew Sephiroth could soak a few broken bones but it still felt good. He knew even for a SOLDIER they still hurt like hell. Sephiroth was visibly restraining himself from working his jaw, showing that at the very least his pride had been wounded.
Still, Cloud was a little interested in finding out what the story was behind Sephiroth apparently having cats.
“So what, are there a couple of starving cat skeletons in the ruins of your house?” he asked.
“Hardly. I left them in the care of a woman who looked after them from time to time. I had planned to be gone for several weeks, I was not going to leave them without supervision.”
“So what? Do you think she threw them out?”
Once again it looked like Sephiroth was giving the question serious thought.
“I doubt it,” he answered. “She might have found them a new home but she wouldn’t just get rid of them. As cross as she might be with me, she would never take it out on the cats.” Sephiroth looked up at Cloud.
“Cloud, I require the use of your telephone.”
Cloud glared, wanting to refuse, but curiosity and sympathy for the animals got the better of him.
“Fine, yes. You can use the phone. It’s in there,” he said, motioning to the room upstairs. “I’ll show you.”
---
It was a long shot but then again, Ms. Dimakos had never changed her number. At the very least, she could tell him what had happened to Obsidian and Feldspar. He picked up the receiver, dialed the number, and slouched into the chair. He brought one leg up to rest it on his opposite knee, making deliberate eye contact with Cloud as the phone toned into his ear. A feminine mechanical voice reported that this number was no longer in service but that the call would be forwarded to the latest contact on file.
Cloud glared like he was trying to bore holes into Sephiroth’s skull. The bruise on the corner of his chin still smarted, but like hell he was going to acknowledge it. Cloud could glare all he liked. Puny, insignificant--
“Hello?” A young woman’s voice asked through the phone.
He switched seamlessly into business mode. Automated. From another life.
“Hello, I’m calling to reach Ms. Dimakos. Is she available?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Hold on a minute.” There was a rustle as the phone handset was set down, and then faintly he could hear the girl’s voice call, “Grandma! There’s a man on the phone for you.”
It would probably take a few minutes for her to reach the phone. He tapped his gloved fingers against the desk.
Cloud was still keeping a close eye on him, but clearly it had given Cloud some pause to see him using the phone like a perfectly normal person, as if basic competency in social graces put him on the same level as an average, mundane human.
Besides, this was for Spar and Sidi. He would endure indignity for their sake.
With another rustle of the handset, a new voice came on the line. “Hello? This is Ruth Dimakos speaking.”
“Ms. Dimakos, it has been a long time since we last spoke. I’m calling to ask,” and he paused, wondering how exactly he wanted to phrase it. Behavior that was a little more average and mundane than he would like. “I’m calling to ask if you can tell me what you did with an orange cat and a black cat that were left in your care eight years ago.”
“Oh my, you can’t possibly… you can’t possibly be the owner? Where have you been all this time?” She sounded incensed. “Of course I kept taking care of them but by this time they’ve lived longer with me than they did with you. Where on Gaea have you been all this time? I would hope you have a good explanation!”
It would not do to mention most of those eight years were spent being dead, on and off again.
“You have every right to be upset with me but I assure you that I would have come earlier if I could. I was in the hospital convalescing with a terrible illness. But, you say, you still have them? In your care now?”
It would do. He didn’t particularly want to see the look on Cloud’s face right at that moment. The man could give him some privacy on the phone while he attempted to piece his family back together.
The tone that Ms. Dimakos was using changed immediately. “Oh, oh I see. That is a shame. Still, I wish somebody might have given me a call! But, yes, well, that can’t be helped. They’re both here, a little bigger than the day I took them home but just as healthy. Are you still sick?”
“No ma’am, I believe that my time convalescing has come to an end. I do apologize that nobody was able to contact you on my behalf.” He wondered what, exactly, would be a believable disease that would have left him unable to communicate for eight years but could also be firmly behind him. A coma perhaps? What was normal for an average human body?
“Well. I suppose since I’m hearing from you now, you’ll be wanting them back? I’m sure they’ve missed you.”
It was terribly common for humans to anthropomorphize animals in inappropriate ways. He doubted that Spar and Sidi had much awareness of who exactly was caring for them as long as their needs were adequately met. And yet, the idea that his kitties had missed him tugged at his heart like a stuck fast fishing hook.
“If that is alright with you. I understand this has been an imposition. I would gladly compensate-”
“Wouldn’t think of it! You won’t find me taking advantage of a man’s illness. Just come get your kitties, alright?”
“I will. Thank you Madam. Where do you reside now?”
“I moved out to Kalm a few years ago to live with my granddaughter, what with the whole kerfuffle going on. I’ll give you the address. Do you have something to write with?”
He didn’t, but he said yes, knowing he would remember. He committed her information to memory and gave a brief farewell before hanging up.
“Well,” Sephiroth began, looking back up at Cloud. “This has been a lovely visit. A pleasure as always but I will be on my way.”
“I’m going with you,” Cloud declared.
“...You are going with me? For what purpose?”
“I don’t trust you. Not with that woman and not with those cats.”
“Oh come now. Why would I do anything to hurt Spa- to hurt my own cats? If I didn’t care for them I would have just consigned them to whatever Fate they would meet on their own.”
“I still don’t trust you. I’m coming, and that’s final.”
“Very well,” Sephiroth said, getting to his feet. “Then we’re on our way to Kalm. After a stop to purchase a cat carrier.”
---
Cloud had had no idea what his afternoon would look like. His schedule was open for naps, tinkering, television, reading, spending time with people, or any other possible pleasant thing he could have been doing.
What he would never, ever have guessed was standing outside an old woman’s idyllic Kalm cottage, next to Sephiroth, who was holding an empty cat carrier in each hand. Not the cheap plastic kind either, the canvas kind with mesh and a clear plastic window.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Cloud asked. He knew Sephiroth probably remembered the right house number, but it pissed him off that Sephiroth insisted on not writing it down. Who was he trying to prove something to?
Without answering, Sephiroth strode up to the door, set down one of the carriers, and knocked.
A few moments passed before an old woman with white hair and thick glasses opened the door. “Yes?” she asked.
“Ms. Dimakos, we spoke on the phone earlier. I am here to pick up my cats.”
“Oh, yes, come in.” The old woman turned toward Cloud and squinted. Now that she was looking straight at him, Cloud could see the cloudy eyes behind those glasses. “Is there someone with you?” she asked.
“Yes. He can wait outside,” Sephiroth answered, but Cloud quickly closed the gap and said, “Actually I’d like to come in please.”
“Of course,” Ms. Dimakos said. “Both of you, come in. Please excuse me, my eyesight hasn’t gotten any better. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No thank you,” Sephiroth answered.
“Not thirsty anymore?” Cloud asked with a pointed look. Sephiroth returned it.
“...Actually a glass of water would be quite nice, Ms. Dimakos,” he amended.
It was a minor victory, but Cloud regretted it almost immediately. Now he and Sephiroth were alone in the living room. He had never seen an explosion of color like this woman’s couches. Every inch was covered in tiny printed flowers.
He decided to stand, while Sephiroth took a seat. He wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but a moment later there was a small trilling “qrr?” noise and a black cat appeared. Sephiroth did not move. The black cat trotted over to Sephiroth and sniffed at his boot extensively. After what felt like ten minutes of careful examination, Sephiroth withdrew his left hand from his glove and extended the hand toward the cat.
This the cat sniffed for only a moment before headbutting into Sephiroth’s palm. Not only that, the black cat purred. It weaved between Sephiroth’s calves as he continued to pet it. The creature did seem unambiguously pleased at the reunion.
Cloud glanced up. Sephiroth was smiling, the kind of soft genuine smile that would look like sunshine on a good person but instead looked like it should curdle milk on the face of an asshole responsible for so much death.
Cloud heard a “myow” chirped from his left as an orange tabby entered through the doorway and beelined for Sephiroth and the black cat.
“Feldspar, there you are,” Sephiroth said, still wearing that smile. Both of his gloves were off and the black cat was on the couch next to him. Feldspar came up to sniff Sephiroth’s hand, then headbutted much in the same way the other had.
That was a terrible name for a cat, and Sephiroth was still an asshole. But the cats seemed happy.
“What’s the black one’s name?” Cloud asked.
“Obsidian,” Sephiroth answered, his eyes still on the cat.
“Both of those names are awful.”
“What’s wrong with them? Are they any worse than ‘Cloud’?”
Cloud was going to retort but the little old lady shuffled in just then, with a glass of water that had a single ice cube in it, so he held his tongue. She came over to Sephiroth and handed him the glass.
“Oh, my, they seem so happy to see you!” she said. “I knew they had missed you.”
Sephiroth gave each cat a glance and a headscratch before standing up and taking the glass from her. He downed it in one smooth gulp and then set the empty glass on the side table on top of a coaster.
“Thank you very much, madam. I truly appreciate you caring for Feldspar and Obsidian all of these years, and for all of the times you cared for them in the past as well.” He took a step to the side so he could give her a proper bow, fully bent at the waist. Cloud kept his teeth gritted.
“Before you take them and go, I would like to ask you something,” Ms. Dimakos said.
“Of course.”
“What is your name? I never knew what to call you, all this time.”
“Oh,” Sephiroth said. He hesitated. “It’s really not important,” he said.
“Please, indulge an old woman. It feels silly just referring to you as a client.”
“My name is-” Sephiroth began, and Cloud could tell he was about to lie. He was pretty sure the fake name Sephiroth was about to give started with an “M.”
“His name is Sephiroth,” Cloud interrupted.
The look Sephiroth gave him was worth the whole trip.
“Oh, like the war hero!” Ms. Dimakos said.
His eyes still locked with Cloud’s, Sephiroth said, “Yes. Just like the war hero.”
She chuckled. “To be honest, I’ve had my suspicions. I thought you were just a shy SOLDIER.”
“You knew I was a SOLDIER?”
“Even with my eyes I can see yours glowing. You’re a large man, too, I can tell. It wasn’t too hard to figure out. But you’re famous! No wonder you keep tight lipped.” She smiled and gave Sephiroth’s hand a pat, which caused him to flinch. “To think, they said you were missing when you were sick in the hospital. Our secret then, eh?”
“Yes, our secret,” he agreed. He pulled his gloves back on, apparently wary of the old lady offering further hand pats.
She made some polite conversation with Cloud and got his name for good measure, then sent them both along on their way with two full cat carriers and well wishes.
---
Back at home, Cloud reclined on the couch, the wreckage of the coffee table cleared away. He would handle that later. He deserved a nap after the afternoon he’d had.
A dark brush in his peripheral vision and a twinge at the back of his mind told him that Sephiroth had already returned to bother him some more. Cloud hauled himself up to a standing position and readied his fists to knock his old adversary into next week. So much for the truce.
As he entered the kitchen, though, there was no sign of Sephiroth. All that had changed was the addition of a fresh carton of milk on the counter.
“At least put it in the fridge, asshole,” Cloud said to the empty kitchen as he picked up the carton and put it away.
-
Special thanks to @nautilusopus for the beta and @fury-brand for the original idea as well as the prompt that inspired this sequel.
Hi ya can I have some Sephiroth x reader with lots of angst please? Reader being unsafe and possibly jealous as he is always surrounded by other women and Sephiroth manages to reassure the reader (sfw or nsfw as you wish x) thank you 💕
Thanks! I kept it sfw this time. Could do a spicier continuation if people are interested. Story is with a nonspecific gender reader.
It's not fair, the way your mind plays tricks on you.
You cling to his confession of love in your memory. He has committed to being with you. You know he would never, ever betray you.
And yet, you cannot help it. Every one of his adorers that you meet is either more beautiful, more intelligent and charismatic, or more successful and interesting than you are. You're conscious of your every flaw as they light up with adoration for him.
You also know that if they knew of your connection to him, they would tear you apart. All that maintains the Silver Elite fan alliance is the shared understanding that everybody is in the same position.
That is, of course, why your relationship is secret. He knows it and you know it, that it's for your own safety. You've discussed it together and agreed, more than once.
But as they cling to his arm and giggle, an icy hand grips your heart.
How can he not see it? How long before he figures out how much better he can do? Is your relationship really a secret for your safety, or so he has an easy exit when he's done with you?
What's worse, you know it's just your own insecurity. It would be better if the problem was rational, because then you could reassure yourself with all of the evidence that he loves you for who you are. You know that. You thought you were comfortable with it.
Maybe if it was rational you could tell him. Maybe then you wouldn't feel so clingy and possessive.
But what do you say? "I don't trust you"? "I have secret fears that you really hate me" … how could you admit such a horrible thing?
So you stay silent while you scream on the inside for him to please…just…notice. Notice how much pain you're in. The knowledge of your own foolishness and weakness keeps you from opening your mouth. So you try to ignore your dry throat when somebody else squeals about how much they love him, the famous First Class SOLDIER Sephiroth.
You lean into the feeling, you let it tear away at your heart and hurt you because you're sick of being so selfish and stupid and you wish you could just make up for…
…for just being you.
==
"You've been quiet."
Sephiroth says this gently. The pain has been eating away at you all night but you've been putting up the bravest face you can.
"You've been just as quiet," you answer. You smile a little. Sephiroth has a talkative streak but is typically quite comfortable with silence or with letting you dominate the conversation.
His brow knits.
"That's not what I mean. It seems like something is bothering you."
The arrow hits its mark and your false smile breaks.
"I'm sorry," you answer out of habit.
Sephiroth gets up and moves to sit next to you and hold you to him.
"Tell me," he commands. His voice is gentle but there is no room to argue.
"I…" you start, but you struggle to speak. The fears play over in your mind and hold you back. You can't look at him.
In his warm embrace, his strong arms protecting you, you find the strength to admit the truth.
"I get jealous when I see you with your fans. Or…or other people at work." You continue without interruption or objection. "I don't mean to, it's not that I don't trust you…" You trail off, not sure what else to say.
He strokes your hair.
"It seems like this has been bothering you quite a bit," he says. He doesn't sound angry at all. You can feel tears coming, tears you've held back for too long.
"It shouldn't," you insist, and your voice breaks. "It's nothing."
"Stop, it's not nothing. You should know," he says, "that I get jealous too."
"You do?" You're shocked. Why and how would Sephiroth get jealous?
"…When I see you with Zack. He makes you smile. His jokes make you laugh. He's friendly and warm," and Sephiroth pauses to settle on how he wants to continue. "And he talks about more normal things."
You're shocked. Sephiroth has never said any of this to you before. He thinks that you might leave him? That you might think you can do better?
"So," he continues, "I understand. I can reassure you as often as you like, all I ask is that you tell me."
You press your face against his chest and hug him with all of your strength.
"I don't love Zack! I love you! You're the only one I want! He can't even… he doesn't hold a candle to you. Nobody is like you! But I'm just…"
"Just what?"
"Just…me. I'm not interesting or special."
"You're wrong. Nobody holds a candle to you, my love," he says, petting your hair. "Not any of the women who admire me. None other than you. I love you, and only you. As you said, you are the only one I want, and nobody is like you. And I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it."
You stay in his embrace and try to catch your breath. You try to stop crying but the tears just keep coming.
"And don't apologize," he adds. "Don't say such things about yourself. If not for you, then for me. I think highly of you. You are special to me."
You stay with him for a long while. Neither of you speaks, but the lack of words is more comfortable. Finally, you catch your breath. You stop yourself from saying you're sorry again.
Sephiroth did not have any pets. He had no idea what he would do with one. Still, it was always pleasant to pass by a nearby house which sported an outdoor shelter for the local alley cats. They kept to themselves, while making things just a bit more pleasant.
For the past few weeks, a certain calico had taken up residence there. She had one blue eye and one gold eye, beneath patches of black and orange and white. She was his favorite neighbor, never wanting to ask him inane questions or talk about nothing. No small talk, just an occasional slow blink in his direction when he would notice her.
More recently it had not been even that much. She had been staying inside with her back faced to the outside. Still, it was comforting to see her there. A small constant whether he was leaving at the crack of dawn or coming back in the middle of the night.
With mid spring came the rains. It was a season he had always liked. The rain never bothered him, and it kept most people inside. At night the sounds of pounding rain were soothing to fall asleep to.
It is a Truth that all things are impermanent. It is a Truth that one of the sufferings of the living is death.
So it was that, on his way home, he saw a familiar orange and black and white pattern of fur, not in its safe dry box where it should be but out in the street. He could not see her eyes but he knew that it was her. She was still. The pounding rain had soaked her and washed away any blood.
He looked at her for a long moment before he continued on. Despite himself, out of habit, his eyes glanced to the little shelter. He knew he would not see her, thought it would be empty.
What he did not expect was to see two tiny squirming creatures where once the calico had been. He could just barely hear their little cries.
His mind flurried with sudden indecision. It was ridiculous for him even to consider anything but turning away and going home. Absolutely ridiculous and utterly out of the question. He did not have pets and knew nothing about their care. It would be ludicrous for him to pick up every animal he came across lest it succumb to the elements. He would leave. He had to.
And yet, he reached tenderly into the box and picked up the first little squirming creature, bright orange. He held his coat open and placed it inside, out of the downpour. It had already gotten wet, but they would be inside soon. He reached back and grabbed the little black cloud of shadow, mewling at the top of its tiny lungs.
It was stupid. This was stupid. He was acting ludicrous. He could imagine Hojo sneering at him, calling him overly sentimental in that obnoxious nasal drawl of his.
The little struggling kittens were softer and warmer than he thought they would be. Their mother must not have left long before he found them. He wondered, briefly, why she would leave, but then remembered that she must hunt to feed herself. She had no mate to help her. It was the way of nature, nothing to be sad about.
Still, it was a little hard to dismiss the whole thing as a mere natural event when she had most likely been struck by a vehicle.
The kittens were entirely too squirmy for his liking. They seemed to be earnestly searching for something within the confines of his jacket.
He hurried to get out of the downpour. His wet hair was already starting to get heavy. In the entrance of his flat, he stepped out of his boots while searching on his phone for what, exactly, he should do with a couple of kittens.
Nothing terribly surprising. Food and water, a place for them to leave waste, a comfortable place to sleep, and something to keep them occupied and spend their energy. Considering the orange one was currently trying to climb up the back of his neck with no care for the integrity of his skin, it was clear they had plenty of energy. And always the little cries as they struggled to move about.
He could finally set them down now that he was inside, but had to consider where. It had to be somewhere warm and soft, but also easy enough to clean. The kitchen and bathroom were ideal from a cleaning standpoint, but his floors would be cold. The couch was adequately comfortable but difficult to clean. The bed, he decided.
Minutes later he was seated on the floor, listening to the mews of his new guests as they explored his futon just as eagerly as they had explored the inside of his jacket. He was reading through information on his phone again now that the most urgent distraction was gone. There was so much. It was hard to believe that the proper feeding and care procedures could be so complex. But he would carry them out. At this point he had already made the foolish mistake of taking the pathetic things, he could hardly put them back. Even euthanization, while clearly more humane than letting them die of the elements, felt too cruel an end for these tiny creatures who mewled with vibrant life. They were struggling to survive, how could he deny them?
Again, Sephiroth chided himself for being overly sentimental. But he still proceeded to make sure they were both dry and under a warm blanket before he moved into the kitchen to begin heating water, some of which would be put into a makeshift kitten meal, the rest of which would be used to create a warm bottle against which they could regain some body heat.
Slowly, Sephiroth inhaled and exhaled to center himself and regain calm. He had made a decision and he would have to stick with it. The proper care procedure was complex, yes, but nothing he could not handle. The sound of the rain grew in intensity as the downpour continued outside.
As he returned with supplies for their feeding and warmth, he considered the pair, one orange and one black.
Aloud, he wondered, "What names shall I give you?"
As the kittens cuddled to the warmth of the glass bottle he had prepared for them, he retrieved a compendium of Mineralogy. It was one he had long since memorized but it brought him comfort to peruse it.
“You,” he said, glancing at the black kitten, “will be Obsidian. And you…” he trailed off, looking at the orange kitten. He flipped between the pages of a few options he had considered, then nodded with decision. He had settled on an old, underappreciated favorite. “You will be Feldspar.”
As Feldspar kneaded his claws into a hand towel, eagerly partaking of the makeshift formula, with the sound of the torrential rain rushing down outside, Sephiroth felt more peaceful than he could remember.
