Advent Children Fan Fiction.

Hold This Sword

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:56:55 GMT

Title: Hold This Sword
Author: faege
Rating: G
Length: 286 words
Warnings: Character death

Hide--hide! the younger urges.

Haunted [Cloud/Reno] - Chapter 1

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 19:40:46 GMT

Hey guys, so we're new here (at least Kigi is x3 I'm </a></b></a>bekas_rebel) and we've came to present you our first work together.

Haunted
FF7/KHII x-over
Cloud/Reno
rated M
Contains quite an OC!Reno, Cloud's a bit changed as well but not much, angst, suicide and most importantly MPREG. Don't like it, don't read. You've been warned.
Kigi mostly writes Reno while I, Bekas, Write Cloud.

S.: Every couple has their fights and they all know that if they can surpass it, good times lie ahead. For Cloud and Reno, more than good times await them... And they're not as good as they could wish for.

Chapter 1 - Fight

[fic] Fragments

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 12:20:22 GMT

Title: Fragments
Author: joudama
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 (Advent Children)
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word count: 317
Summary: They are more alike than he had known, until that moment.
Prompt: Cloud/Kadaj: Reunion – Death is the starlit strip between the companionship of yesterday and the reunion of tomorrow.

Fragments

Fic - Boy

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 09:16:25 GMT

Title: Boy
Author: spikeyboots
Rating: G
Length: 329 words
A/N: I couldn't get this image out of my mind, about Zack's mother.

She can see the square of his shoulders, the set of his smile deeper in his face, the outline of his hair against the 5am sun. You teach your children to grow up, to find their way home.

Two Letters and a Number

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 19:07:03 GMT

Title: Two Letters and a Number
Author: ladynero
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing and some nudity.

Sam was staring at everyone in stunned disbelief as her mind whirled. It wasn’t scientifically possible for the red cloaked man to change like that, growing mass and wings on a whim. And she *knew* they had left Sephiroth back on the Shera, so how did he get *inside* the sealed tank with *wings* of all things that vanished in green light? She knew the tank had been sealed because she had heard the hissing of compressed air escaping when the other man had ripped the door off.

The man, Zack, walked over to Daniel and wrapped his shirt around Daniel’s eyes and ears. “Things are going to be disorienting for a while. Just relax and we’ll take care of you.”

“Zack?” Daniel’s voice was soft and confused as he reached out and grabbed the younger man’s arms. “What’s going on? We’re not in the Lifestream ‘cause Sam and Jack are here, but you’re dead.”

That got a quiet laugh from Zack, the kind that invited a person to join in on the humor. “Long story that I’ll tell you all about after we get you and Spike on board the Shera,” he promised.

“It’s not scientifically *possible*!” moaned Sam, holding her head as she tried again to figure out how everything had happened. “A person can’t suddenly gain and loose mass like that even taking into account his clothes, and you can’t just appear in a sealed chamber without there being some evidence of an entry way.” She glared at Sephiroth who was still holding a naked Cloud Strife and why hadn’t she noticed that before? “And I *know* we left you aboard the Shera, so how did you get here before us and get into the tank?”

“Magic,” drawled Sephiroth, raising a silvered brow at her.

She shook her head. “Magic isn’t real. Technology can be advanced enough to appear to be magic, but there is nothing that can’t be explained by science.”

Zack walked back to Cloud’s side and motioned her over. “Come here a minute. I want to show you something, okay? I promise it won’t hurt, and it might give you a little bit better understanding.”

Slinging her rifle across her back, Sam walked over to him, a bit wary but willing to see how he was going to explain this. He crouched down next to one of those toxic green puddles that lingered in front of the one tube and glanced at Sephiroth who also crouched down before motioning her down with them.

“This is mako. It’s the liquid version of the Lifestream,” began Zack, holding out his hand to her, and Sam slipped her fingers into his, surprised at the calluses on his skin. She wouldn’t think that someone freshly brought back as he had would have calluses on his hands. “It’s what Shinra used for a power source for a long time, cheap and easy to get.”

There were quiet footsteps behind her, and Sam looked up to find Daniel being escorted over by Jack and Teal’c. Jack’s shirt had been wrapped around Daniel’s waist to give him a bit of modesty, but that was all he was wearing.

“Do you mind if we listen in on this explanation as well?” asked Jack as Daniel knelt on the floor, one hand reaching out to brush against Cloud’s leg before grabbing on.

Zack smiled at them. “Well, it’s a bit more show and tell than flat out explain,” he remarked, twining his fingers with Sam’s before lowering their hands into the liquid.

She gasped softly as thoughts/feelings/memories slipped through her mind, her eyes closing to listen to them better. It was different than Jolinar because she wasn’t being shoved to the back of her mind, but the voices and emotions were still there. Anger, fear, sorrow, and desperation swirled through her mind as the voices threatened to sweep her away. Then, a new voice entered the cacophony, but this one was stronger as if the person was right next to her instead of off in the distance like the others.

‘Sorry... tried protecting him... shouldn’t be hurt.... don’t be mad at him... accident... twin brother... not possible... not a Shinra.... lied again.... Zack, where are you... lost... help me...’

Just as suddenly as it began, the voice stopped, and Sam blinked, dazed as she realized her hand was wet but with water this time. She looked at Zack with wide eyes. “What the hell was *that*?” she croaked, cradling her hand to her chest. She was almost afraid the voices would start again if she touched anything.

“Sam, what happened?” asked Jack, and she turned to look at him, the words taking a few minutes to fully make sense to her addled mind.

“It was voices, feelings, in the mako,” she explained, slowly finding the words for her experience. She shook her head, seeing the question in Jack’s eyes. “Not like Jolinar. I wasn’t taken over, but it was still intense, like a wave crashing on the beach, threatening to sweep you off your feet if you weren’t careful. Then there was this new voice, closer, like the person was right next to me instead of in the distance like the others were. It was fragmented, as if the person couldn’t really string together enough consciousness to speak in complete sentences.”

Zack smiled at her, a gentle grin. “That voice was Cloud,” he explained, and the blond hummed in response to his name. “He’s a bit lost right now, but we’ll help him back.”

“I remember him being there, in the voices, shielding me,” remarked Daniel, speaking softly as if anything louder would hurt to hear. “There was so much yelling and screaming as emotions and memories were thrown at us, but he took every blow, trying to protect me.”

“That was probably the original inhabitants of Nibelheim making their displeasure known,” remarked Reeve, walking over to drape his long tunic-like jacket over Cloud. He brushed the damp bangs off of Cloud’s forehead, and Cloud hummed again, turning his head into the touch. “It’s okay, Cloud, you’re safe.”

Sam watched as Cloud blinked, his eyes turning from slitted green back to the familiar electric blue, and awareness started trickling back. A hand came up, searching for something, and Zack caught it, pulling Cloud’s hand to rest against Zack’s cheek. Tension seemed to flow out of Cloud at the contact.

“Z’ck?” There was a wealth of emotion and questions in that simple broken word, and Sam stared at Cloud, actually seeing him for the first time. He looked so young, nothing like his reputation made him out to be. Sam hadn't gotten a clear look at him in Seventh Heaven that first time or even at the ruins of the Shinra Tower, but he had seemed older then, at least in his thirties. Now, however, he didn't look any older than his early twenties.

“Hey Spike. Welcome back,” greeted Zack with a grin.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” slurred Cloud, more awareness appearing on his face as he continued blinking like someone waking up from a long nap. He shook his head and grimaced as if he had tasted something horrid. “Not ‘stream.”

A friendly chuckle slipped out of Zack as he brushed a finger down Cloud’s nose, getting a wrinkled nose for his trouble. “We’ll explain everything back on the Shera while the doctor checks you over, okay?”

A panicked look flashed across Clouds face, and he whimpered as he clutched at Zack’s hand while his other flailed for something to grab. Blindly, Daniel reached out and grabbed that hand, holding onto Cloud as tight as possible. “Cloud, I’m here. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will your friends.”

“Dan’l? Firs’ Cl’ss now. Can’ hide tha’.” Cloud’s forehead wrinkled in frustration as he tried to talk, and Sam wondered if it was a side effect of whatever had happened to Cloud or if it was something else.

“Yeah, I know, Cloud, but you need to get better to teach me how to deal with this,” stated Daniel, his voice soft. “You can’t expect Zack to do a good job of it, do you?” That got a soft laugh from Cloud as Zack quietly protested with an amused "Hey!". “So, how ‘bout we get out of here and into fresh air that doesn’t reek of mako?”

Sephiroth glanced at Zack before transferring the blond over into Zack’s arms. “I have a few things to do here,” he murmured, smoothly rising to his feet and sweeping out of the room before anyone thought to protest. Sam saw Reeve glance at Vincent before Vincent nodded and followed Sephiroth. She wondered what that was about, but before she could ask, Zack rose to his feet with Daniel following him, both holding Cloud.

“Time to blow this place,” remarked Zack with a grin. “Hey Donahue, mind carrying Daniel?”

“I can walk,” protested Daniel with a frown. “I just... need someone to guide me right now.”

Donahue chuckled as he walked over and gently scooped up Daniel, getting a startled yelp for his troubles. “Yeah but until you get use to everything, walking around barefooted is not going to be fun. Welcome to the Firsts.”

“Is there anyway to reverse the process?” Sam asked, looking at everyone. “Can’t you use those to change him back?” She gestured a bit helplessly at the tubes, hoping someone would announce that all they had to do was shove Daniel back in, press a few buttons and everything was done. Instead, her suggestion was met with an almost pitying silence from the Gaians.

@@@

Shaking his head at Major Carter’s naivete, Reeve gestured for people to start making their way out of the room. It was one thing to understand that she was not from the same world as them, but Cloud had said that he had explained the SOLDIER process to Daniel. Hadn’t he passed the information along to his companions? “The SOLDIER process is irreversible, Major Carter. It changes a person on the cellular level.”

He turned to face Chang and gestured towards the tanks. “Make sure those can’t be used ever again, Chang.”

“You can’t do that, Tuesti,” protested Tseng as the Wutainese SOLDIER moved towards the tanks. “This is Shinra property, not WRO.”

“Actually, I can,” drawled Reeve with a smirk as he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. Since Cloud’s call that night a week ago, Reeve had been carrying around a copy of the agreement that had created the WRO, signed by both Rufus Shinra and Reeve himself. The original was still in a very safe place, but something had told Reeve that a copy would be needed. He unfolded the paper and held it up to face the Turks. “According to this agreement between Shinra and myself, any newly discovered laboratories once used by Professor Hojo are mine to do with as I wish, including all the information they contain. If any laboratory is not turned over to my control, then Shinra forfeits a percentage of his company and resources, monetary and personnel both, to WRO.”

Reeve turned his back on the wide eyed Turks and gently motioned for people to move against the far wall as Chang stopped in front of the tanks. “In order to give you a good idea of what Dr. Jackson will be able to do now, please keep an eye on First Class Chang's demonstration, Colonel O'Neill. I also would like to point out that Mr. Change is smaller than Dr. Jackson, and his strength will be proportional.”

Chang grinned, a hot and bloodthirsty grin, before bowing briefly at his audience. Straightening, he turned to Daniel's tank and with a hiss he shut the door. He pulled back his fist and punched the glass, causing some small cracks to appear. A second punch forced the cracks to spider-web out until a third punch shattered it completely.

“That glass was reinforced to survive anti-artillery fire from a mobile tank,” Reeve remarked with a deliberately casual tone as he glanced at the wide-eyed stare of the Tau’ri.

Daniel frowned, his head tilted as he rested in Donahue's arms, listening to what was going on around them. “Cloud only needed one punch.”

That got a soft chuckle from Zack. “Spike's special like that, part of a matched set if you will." Zack shrugged and smiled in amusement, as if that didn't matter.

Snarling some impressive sounding Wutainese curses, Chang shoved his hands through the sides of the tank and heaved, splitting the tank in two before dropping the parts on the floor. He turned to the other tank, drawing his sword. He struck at the tank with a battle cry, slicing through the metal as if it were a loaf of bread. There was a groan of protesting metal before the two pieces separate with a loud clang. He sheathed his sword and bowed again, looking as composed and unruffled as a Turk normally does instead of the rather impressive warrior he had just been.

“And Daniel will be able to do that?” asked Jack, his eyes a bit wide at the demonstration. Reeve nodded, unable to stop a smirk from spreading across his face.

“Cloud destroyed the other lab with his bare hands,” Daniel offered, his voice a bit louder than it had been. “He only used his swords on the table and Zack’s tube.” he sighed and rubbed at his cloth-covered eyes. “Can we go now? I’m tired of this place and I’m sure Cloud is too.”

Reeve nodded before gesturing for everyone to leave the room. “Chang, can you make sure that the mako pipes are disabled permanently once Sephiroth and Vincent have finished their business here?”

“It will be a pleasure, sir,” Chang purred with a smirk as the Tau’ri started filing down the hallway leading out with Dr. Takajira right behind them.

“Lucky bastard,” grumbled Donahue with a good natured glare at Chang. “You get to destroy stuff and I’m stuck playing a chocobo.”

Chang’s smirk grew sharper at the grumbling. “You were the one who decided to rival Thor for strength and sheer size. Meanwhile, I’m perfectly happy to be a son of Wutai.”

There was an almost defeated air hanging around Elena as she followed Tseng out of the lab, her shoulders slumped, and Reeve took a long look around the lab before catching Chang’s eye. With a smirk and a thumb pointed to the ground, he quietly gave the First Class permission to completely trash the lab, verifying that nothing would be useable ever again. The grin on Chang’s face when Reeve turned back to follow the others outside was one to rival Sephiroth’s when the Black Materia had been handed over.

Emerging out into the sunlight, Reeve took a deep breath and felt his shoulders relax as he started towards the town. He’d have to collect Cloud’s belongings and Fenrir before loading them onto the Shera, but the ship had room for the massive machine. Plus this would give him a chance to look it over for Cloud, make sure nothing had happened to it while they were in the lab. A throat being cleared behind him caught his attention, and Reeve turned to find Jack standing there, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Can I come with you? I have a few questions I wanna ask,” inquired the Tau’ri and Reeve nodded as he turned back to the path. Jack fell into step next to him, and they walked a bit in silence before Jack spoke. “There really isn’t a way to reverse what was done?”

Reeve shook his head. “Hojo never meant for the process to be reverse. What good would an improved fighter be if it was easy to undo the procedure, making the fighter nothing but a simple man again?” He kept his gaze riveted on the collection of buildings ahead of them. “Dr. Jackson is still perfectly capable of living a normal life. He just needs to be more careful and retrain his body so his instincts mesh with his new abilities.”

“Is he a danger to anyone?” Reeve could tell that it wasn’t a friend asking but a commander, and he reached out to rest a hand on Jack’s shoulder, stopping in the road.

“Everyone is dangerous,” Reeve pointed out, his voice calm. “He’s no more a danger to you than he has been before.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, meeting Jack’s worried gaze with his own calm one. “Look, you haven't been around SOLDIERs all that much, since Zack's been holed up in his room with Sephiroth and Aerith. Before you start labeling anyways, step back and talk with Zack and Cloud. And more importantly, just watch them.”

They walked a bit farther towards the town and were almost to the inn when Jack spoke again. “So, what’s a chocobo?”

Smirking, Reeve walked into the barn and pointed at the large birds. “That's a chocobo. Both transportation and weapon, when trained properly."

The look on Jack's face had Reeve howling with laughter as he leaned against the barn door. By Freya, it felt good to laugh like that after the last week.

@@@

Things in the night - Yuffie-centric

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 18:27:00 GMT

Title: Things in the Night.
Fandom: FFVII – Post AC.
Characters/Pairings: Yuffie, Cloud/Tifa
Rating: PG-13 for swearing.
Summary: Yuffie does what she always tries to do best:
Instinctively, she knew something was wrong, that something was in the house and that it was moving...

A/N: The offering to a prompt request from sixpoint for a Yuffie fic, with a side helping of Cloud (and Tifa).
Disclaimer: I own nothing of SquareEnix’s. Only the crazee in my brain.

see Yuffie run...

(x-posted to ctlove for the cloud/tifa centric-ness)

Restorations, Interlude I (Rufus, Tseng, Reeve cameo)

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 15:00:55 GMT

Title: Restorations, Interlude I
Rating: PG
Characters: Rufus/Tseng, Reeve
Summary: Even in the aftermath of everything, few men would tell Rufus Shinra what to do with his life.
Warnings: Second in a series. I worldbuild too much. Machiavelli is probably rolling in his grave. Rufus Shinra is an asshole, also.

Restorations I

2657 words and Rufus in a suit. Sorta.

( Dying, to Rufus, was a concept seen in relative terms. )

Can Barely Hide, chapter 4; Reno X Cloud; NC-17

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 05:21:26 GMT

TITLE: Can Barely Hide, chapter 4
PAIRING: Reno X Cloud
AUTHORS: lilymoon1 as Reno, grygon as Cloud
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 3,924
SUMMARY: Reno comes home torn up and Cloud can’t sleep…

( He'd seen worse, but those weren't exactly fond memories. )

Intro/Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter3

fic - dolls - tseng-centric

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 22:23:40 GMT

Title: Dolls
Author: spikeyboots
Characters/Pairings: Tseng, Tseng/Elena implied
Rating: Adult
Length: 271 words
Warnings: Violence

They’re like a line of dolls: two girls; blonde, saucer-eyed, clutching dolls themselves - the sort of ones that have been bought in the cheap part of town, imported plastic shit from Wutai; cracked and colour-bleached by the sun.

fic: The Games of You

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 12:14:19 GMT

Fic offering :)

Title: The Games of You.
Fandom: Crossover FFVII/FFXII
Pairings: Balthier/Vincent
Rating: NC_17
Summary: Games found in the hunt: Exhaustion eats, feasts on sapped muscles and the loss of breath. Anger simmers, under the disguise of silence...

A/N: The offering to a prompt request from logistika_nyx for a Balthier/Vincent fic. In that order.
Disclaimer: All ownage belongs to SquareEnix. I weep often.

Follow and play...

Can Barely Hide, chapter 3; Reno X Cloud; NC-17

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 08:08:55 GMT

TITLE: Can Barely Hide, chapter 3
PAIRING: Reno X Cloud
AUTHORS: lilymoon1 as Reno, grygon as Cloud
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 3,437
NOTES: This is a RPG between the two writers but we treated it as a fanfic. Edited slightly for spelling and fragments but otherwise unbeta’ed. Please enjoy and please comment.
SUMMARY: Cloud can’t wait to see Reno again, so he follows him to the office.

( He certainly never heard his partner open the door, spit soda on his immaculate suit and beat a fast retreat. )

Intro/Chapter 1
Chapter 2

FFVII: Growing Pains (Veld/Tseng)

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 16:27:23 GMT

Title: Growing Pains
Rating: Soft R
Characters: Veld/Tseng
Warnings: A bit of manhandling. All in a day's work for a Turk, really. Pairings if you squint.
Summary: Growing into his responsibility as a Turk was not automatic for Tseng; some things you have to be trained how to do.

5507 words and a whole lot of Tseng!backstory, oh god.

It was competition – and wasn't that typical of Shinra. In absence of any external challenge, its sole mode of entertainment seemed to be to watch its internal divisions rip each other to pieces. Nothing ever changed; Veld'd been around twenty, maybe twenty-five years by the time he ended up at that board meeting, watching with blasé disinterest as a young man – bastard son of the President – stepped up to fill in a new seat at the Directors' table.

'Deusericus,' the man introduced himself. 'Lazard Deusericus. I will be serving as the Head of SOLDIER from today onwards. I look forward to working with you all,' and with that neat, smoothly delivered lie, sat and crossed his hands and waited for the dice to fall.

The President stood and uttered a few choice lines and then spread out the budget – a few million gil moving back and forth, all of it channelling into Hojo's new laboratory experiment turned war machine. Heidegger didn't look happy. Scarlett looked bored. All of it was a cover, and Deusericus would do well to watch his back.

There was no mention of budget when it came to Administrative Research; that was the game that the President played to make sure that the guards watched the guards. When the meeting was dismissed, Veld walked straight past Deusericus without so much as extending a hand in greeting. He headed for the elevators, and closed the doors of his in Lazard's face when the other man made to enter with him.

Competition – Shinra didn't need to tell Veld in so many words that the Turks were becoming too every day, too internal, too specific in their use. Shinra was all about pride. Display. Strutting. They employed the right Director for their cause, then – Veld'd seen the way Deusericus folded his gloved fingers and played with the edges of his spectacles. Father and bastard (son), after all.

'Sir,' Tseng said curtly when Veld walked into the Administrative Research office.

'A word of advice, Tseng,' Veld said, directly, as he accepted the files Tseng proffered him. Reaching his table, he tossed them down and turned. 'It's high time you learned to grow out of your naivety.'

'Sir?' Tseng intoned, keeping his face as blank as he'd been taught. Little secret that he wasn't fully confident in his skills. Veld'd watched Tseng since he picked the boy up off the filthy streets in Sector Six. Now he read every line off of the young man's face like it was a book.

Veld tucked his hands into his pockets. 'You've seen Deusericus around,' he said. 'What do you think?'

'He's not what he appears,' Tseng replied, his voice taking on the flat tones of report. 'Rumour puts him as the President's first and bastard son. His rise in the ranks is supporting evidence of it. From what we've been able to gather he's friendly with the recruits and adroit with the executives. All-rounded and young.'

'That's not what you think,' Veld stated. 'That's what you know.'

There was a pause. 'I think he's a good man, sir.'

'A good man?' Veld asked, taking on rhetoric. He leaned against his chair and watched Tseng carefully. Tseng kept his gaze a point to the side. 'In Shinra?'

'It's a possibility,' Tseng posited.

'You're a Turk, and the first opinion you offer me about a newly-made executive is that he's a good man,' Veld restated. His voice was free from intonation; amazing how he managed to make it sound accusatory nonetheless.

'We often assume the worst about men, sir,' Tseng returned. 'But I've spoken to Lazard on several occasions. Insofar as I've been able to gather, he's a personable individual, even if his history begs him to act aggressively, politically speaking.'

Veld exhaled through his nose. 'I wonder, Tseng,' he said, 'if I made a mistake putting you out in the field. Stop,' he said, holding up a hand before objections could be made. 'I know. I'm too old. Reno is unreliable. Rude would need to be forced to speak. They're men's men. You're not. I've trained you, specifically, for a purpose that I now think you patently unsuited for.'

Tseng flinched without being able to help himself. 'Sir.'

'There,' Veld pointed out. 'It's written all over your face. You snap necks beautifully, Tseng. But you can't see what's in front of your damned nose. Come here.' The man gestured Tseng into a seat. When the younger Turk seated himself, Veld activated the system's panel on his desk, and drew up a few files. 'You've spoken to Deusericus. You think he's a good man. You also know his circumstances –' Veld opened up the SOLDIER profile. 'Funded by Hojo. Genetic development and specialised human engineering. Bad blood. What do you think his intentions really are, Tseng?'

Tseng's eyes were flat. 'Do you suppose he wants to take over the company, sir,' he uttered, keeping his voice on the line of civility. 'That his heritage makes it necessary for him to aspire to rise in order to avenge his disinheritance?'

'Yes,' Veld said, simply. 'But that's not the worst you can manage, I'm sure. You're looking at the facts as if they're numbers on a page. They're not. They're variables.'

'SOLDIER is an aggressive force,' Tseng said.

'Variables change, and affect the system in which they're integrated to.'

'Genetically modified via Hojo's procedures, they are potentially super-human in terms of strength, reflexes, constitution and co-ordination,' Tseng continued.

'A system involves parts. None of which are discrete in nature, no matter their build and development.'

'SOLDIERS will be potentially more dedicated to Shinra than their Army counterparts,' Tseng forced out. 'And therefore more deeply involved with internal politics. Lazard –'

'Deusericus,' Veld said.

'Deusericus may use them as a point of contention, should any of them rise to significant status. There are several already poised to become so. Sephiroth, Hewley, Rhapsodos.' Tseng said.

'And what becomes of the Turks, Tseng?' Veld asked, leaning back at last. Tseng felt air return to his lungs. 'What becomes of the poorly equipped, marginally trained and physically deficient guard?'

Tseng was silent.

Veld nodded at the door. 'Deusericus is not your friend. He is not your acquaintance, he is not your confidant. He is your age, and smarter than you are, even if he possesses none of the training that would keep him alive outside of Midgar. He doesn't need to – he has at his fingertips the rational products of Hojo's genius, and the clout of blackmail and a history that needs reckoning with. He is not a good man, Tseng. Neither am I, nor are you.'

Tseng looked up at his mentor. 'Sir,' he said, again.

'How old are you this year, Tseng?' Veld asked.

'Nineteen, sir,' Tseng replied.

'Nineteen, and how many years Shinra?'

'Six, sir.'

'God, six,' Veld sighed. 'Six and you still hold on to concepts like honour. Wutai has strong customs, I'll give them that.'

'Perhaps it was the man who trained me, sir,' Tseng offered, and there was a note of sarcasm in his voice.

'Oh?' Veld said, looking up. 'You'll say many things about me when I'm gone, Tseng, but be sure of one thing. You will not say that I brought you up to be a good man.'

'That's not for you to decide, sir,' Tseng said. 'If there is nothing more?'

'At least I gave you some backbone,' Veld smiled. 'No. There is nothing more. You have patrol duty. Sector Eight.'

'Yes, sir.'

'It'll be interesting.'

'Will it be, sir?'

At two in the morning, Tseng found himself with his face against concrete. He came up, wiping blood from his mouth, and stood very still. 'You're SOLDIER,' he addressed the man who'd shoved him down. 'Last I recall, SOLDIER was part of Shinra.' The company in question was a full hundred feet behind them; they could both still see the ever-lit lobby and the insignia on the sliding doors. The Tower loomed up above up, blocking out the night.

'And the Turks are too,' the SOLDIER said. 'And all you've ever acted like is superior and fucking holier-than-thou.' The Mako sheen in the man's eyes was bright and like nothing human. 'You could treat this as a nice wake-up call.' He stepped closer, cracking his knuckles.

'This is Turk turf,' Tseng said, coolly.

'And you're in my god damned way,' the SOLDIER replied, smiling. Tseng thought he recognised the man, in that instant. An old face from old memories: illegal trading done in one of the accounting departments. A small, regular job for the Turks. Tseng didn't recall what'd happened to him afterwards. Some flash of intuition suggested that the man had been offered choices. Tseng wondered what alternative would've had a man choosing to become one of Hojo's willing patients.

Moving pre-emptively, Tseng managed to break the man's left ankle before the man could break his face, but pain didn't seem to be a factor to the SOLDIER. What would've had any other person down and out had the SOLDIER moving faster. More deliberate. More lethal. Tseng rolled with his punches, and got off with a bruised collarbone instead of a shattered neck.

'Pretty little Turk,' the SOLDIER said, placing pressure on his injured foot like he couldn't feel pain. He grabbed Tseng by the hair and dragged his face close. 'What else do you fuck around doing up there with your nice little suits and shiny shoes?' He yanked Tseng's tie loose, and shook it around. 'Silk,' he grinned. 'Very nice.'

Tseng spat in his face and punched the man's nose in.

He was in the hospital when he woke up the next morning. Hospital being a generic term; fact of the matter was that no Shinra case was allowed off Shinra grounds. Where he was was the Turk infirmary, a glorified level dedicated to treating whatever got dragged in the next morning. They'd seen a few cases in their time. Veld kept the payroll of all the doctors who worked there on the Administrative Research tab.

'Your right arm suffered a clean break,' a voice said from Tseng's side. Tseng didn't have enough time to fully orientate himself before a cup of ice was put in his hands. 'Suck on a chip,' Veld said. 'It's better than choking on water. You wouldn't want to lose any more of your depleted dignity.'

Tseng took a piece of ice into his mouth. His tongue felt flat, dry, heavy. It could've been that which forced him into silence, or it could've been the sense of disappointment that hung in the air. Veld was a hard master. Who didn't know that?

'I'm impressed,' the Director said. He sounded anything but. 'You managed to get off without needing reconstructive surgery.'

Tseng said nothing.

'You're off of field duty for two months. Recuperation will be on my schedule, not yours. There'll be no permanent damage. I've let them use materia to seal the fracture. You can let your bones do the rest of the knitting themselves. I regret to inform you that the wound will not scar.'

Tseng said nothing.

Veld said nothing as well. The man got up, and left without another word.

Tseng waited a full minute before he flung the cup on the floor, ice shattering and spilling everywhere. He chanced getting up to pick the pieces up from the floor, and had to sit for thirty minutes afterwards fighting cramps and the rise of bile at the back of his throat. Tseng slept through the rest of the day, and pushed all spikes of pain viciously aside every time it threatened to wake him. Heal. Recuperate. Get back on his god damned fucking feet.

When he woke, the clock on the far wall informed him that it was nine o'clock in the evening. No windows in this part of Shinra; there was probably company policy forbidding it. Tseng opened his eyes, but did not move. Took stock: there was an ache in his ribs. Expected. Numbness in his arms. Expected; he'd tell the attendants to stop the drip of anaesthesia. Fatigue. Expected.

He let his mind shift, sift and settle. When he felt prepared, Tseng swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

Hojo was at the door.

Tseng did not blink. 'Sir,' he said, his politeness a defensive barrier and an offensive vocalisation.

'Ah,' Hojo murmured, nodding at him. 'You're awake, hm?'

Tseng did not grace the question with a complementary rhetorical answer. He nodded, and turned slightly to reach for the blazer that had been hung on the chair next to his bed. It kept the scientist in his view, and afforded the man the barest of the necessary respect.

'I heard of your altercation,' Hojo informed him. 'I must say that I was very impressed.' And here the interest was not feigned, nor meant in disdain. Tseng rather preferred Veld's. He took up his blazer, and then the shirt that was underneath it.

'Thank you, sir,' he said, modulating his voice. Touching the tails of his shirt, Tseng said, 'I must change.'

'Go ahead,' Hojo nodded his permission. Tseng had to fight to keep his face blank. He stripped off the scrubs that the attendants had put him in, and feigned ignorance of Hojo's gaze. The scientist was evaluating him: the mass of his body, the stretch of his muscles, the naked human form. Tseng slipped his left arm through the shirt and buttoned it as best as he was able to. He bent while pulling on his slacks, and gave no sign of discomfort.

Hojo laughed.

Tseng zipped his pants and suffered tightening his belt in silence.

'You're a fine example of a Turk,' Hojo observed casually as Tseng attempted the tie. It was not a good attempt. 'Let me help you with that.'

'No need, sir,' Tseng said.

'Would you want Veld to see you dishevelled?' Hojo inquired as he came closer. He was a better political player than Tseng was. The Turk stood still as the scientist undid the feeble half-in-hand that he'd managed and retied it into a Windsor. The silence in the room was absolute. Hojo seemed not to notice. 'Veld's training is notoriously harsh, I hear. A waste, considering how it's all hidden beneath the uniform.'

'We are not an aggressive force, sir,' Tseng was obliged to mention.

'No,' Hojo agreed, pulling the length of Tseng's tie outwards, his fingers brushing the underside of Tseng's throat as they went. 'But you are a potent administrative one, you Turks. Your job scope is rather wide, isn't it? If it encompasses all the various departments that make up Shinra.'

'We manage,' Tseng said. 'Sir.'

'I imagine that, after the example you set last night, Veld must be considering how the Turks might manage any difficulties with SOLDIER,' Hojo mentioned. He finished with the knot, and pulled it up against Tseng's neck. When he felt it touch Tseng's collar, he tightened it a further notch, then stepped back. 'I imagine going up against a Mako-enhanced man must've been quite a challenge?'

'As you say, sir.' Tseng took a full step back, and slipped his blazer over his shoulders. It hung loose over his right arm, and left him as vulnerable as he felt.

Hojo reached into the pocket of his laboratory coat. 'There's a distinct disadvantage to the SOLDIER programme, of course. Physical training requires time, yes, but not quite so much time as the human body takes to adapt to the injection of Mako into the genetic system. Our turnover rate is dramatically slow, and the possibility of gene rejection is always present. A permanent alteration of any system has those side effects, of course. And the fact of the matter is that I doubt that we'd need such brute force as SOLDIER presents to us at all times, hm?'

When he withdrew two slim glass syringes of what seemed to be refined Mako, Tseng knew that he ought to move. Speak, act, deflect. One of the above, or all three. He did nothing.

'These are short-term Mako accelerators,' Hojo explained upon seeing the look on Tseng's face. 'Curious, are you? You've good cause. Think of these as liquid material: they enhance the capabilities of any human, amplifying and drawing from pre-existing sources of energy – lipid deposits, spare glycerine stores, existing simple carbohydrate excesses in the bloodstream – instead of relying on a gene structure to create the necessary excesses. Ingenious, isn't it?' The scientist chuckled. 'It is. Take them.'

'Sir,' Tseng objected.

'Would you like me to make that an order, Turk?' the Director of the Science department asked. 'I'm not asking you to use them. Only to keep them on hand, and to inform me if you should apply them in the field.'

Tseng took the syringes. 'Are there any side-effects I should be aware of?'

'I think,' Hojo smiled as he moved to leave the room, 'that is a question I'd best be asking you. I will see you again.'

Tseng left the syringes at the bottom of his desk drawer, and tried to forget about them.

Veld had certain preferences set when it came to the training of his men: there were to be no modifiers. It didn't matter what form they took – Veld held natural training above any enhancements that the collective art of the Science department could bring to offer. His regime was difficult: you put on the suit and you took the suit out. To Kalm. To Gongaga. To the Icicle Region. To Wutai. You learnt how to swim in it, shoot in it, run it in, roll in it, you learnt to sleep and eat and shit in it and bring it back to Midgar in the same three pieces that it went out in.

The uniform gave you immunity, but it was an immunity you had to earn. Tseng'd seen – and helped – Veld in the act of bringing recruits who thought they could cheat death and the system out and shooting them in the forehead for attempted defection. Loyalty bought itself at high prices. It was a clean death, at the very least, cleaner than any other you'd get.

SOLDIER'd invented quite a few deaths for Turks that hadn't come on the roster before. Word had it that one of their men in Junon had been fished out of the sea, bloated from three days worth of floating after engaging in an assignment that had had her cataloguing the training detail of the SOLDIER base there. Veld said little about it. Revenge wasn't a card he played.

Tseng kept his opinions to himself just as he kept Hojo's gift.

Veld called him into his office on his first day of return to active duty, and nodded at a piece of paper on his desk when Tseng entered. 'Take it,' the Director said, and Tseng picked it up, left-handed. It was a listing of several of Tseng's old mission reports. 'You'll be useless to me for the next month and half while that mends,' Veld nodded at Tseng's right arm. 'I consider reflection an active duty, however.'

Tseng slipped the note into his jacket pocket. 'Sir?'

'You'd better learn to be a southpaw,' Veld continued. 'And I'd rather you learnt to crawl before you run, and write before you shoot.' He nodded at the spare desk that he kept in the office; once, that had been Tseng's place, up until the time Tseng'd put on the tie and assumed official duty. 'You can make me physical copies while working at that desk.'

Humiliation would have burned at Tseng if he didn't know how much he deserved the treatment. Tseng said nothing as he sat down and availed himself to the use of the paper and pens at the desk. The first sheet he covered had handwriting as horrible as the contents of the report; it'd been his first solo mission. Sixteen years old and stupid, he'd committed any number of mistakes. Reliving them was not pleasant.

Veld did not look his way until the sun pulled itself down past the Plate-line. By then, Tseng's hand was cramping, and his back was a stiff line. He forced himself to finish the fifth report. Veld came over and looked down at the pages. 'They're satisfactory,' Tseng's mentor allowed. 'Tomorrow, do them in Wutainese.'

Tseng gritted his teeth, and nodded. The next day, he brought a dictionary with him to the office.

'Do you need that?' Veld raised his eyebrows upon spotting it. 'I thought a man like you kept history close to hand.'

'I'm out of practice, sir,' Tseng replied.

'Oh, I see,' Veld smiled.

Tseng translated as fast as he was able to, but failed to finish a third report before Veld had finished with his day.

'Where are you going?' Veld asked as Tseng started pulling on his blazer. 'You have two more ahead of you.'

Tseng was there until two in the morning. Veld was outside in the lobby when he walked out of the office. 'Hm,' the older man said, passing Tseng a cup of coffee. Tseng drank, grateful and wary. 'How is your hand?'

Pulling the cup down, Tseng replied, 'Acceptably sore.'

Veld rewarded him with a snort of laughter. 'Well said. Downstairs, now.'

They took the elevator down to the underground shooting ranges in silence that bordered on companionable. It was an old silence, one they'd come out of the habit of falling into. Tseng felt young in Veld's presence when he felt old in anyone else's. He knew better than to speak, so Tseng simply followed when Veld led the way out into the range and called up the targets.

'Try,' was all the older Turk said, nodding at the targets as Tseng worked to arm his weapon without fumbling.

The first shot Tseng took had the recoil come back heavily enough across his shoulders that his injured arm throbbed. He shifted his stance for the second, and managed to hit the edge of the target. The third and forth were frustratingly mediocre.

Tseng almost flinched when he felt Veld's hand on his left shoulder. 'Turn yourself,' his mentor said, pushing Tseng's shoulders into the right form and cupping Tseng's left wrist with his left hand. Tseng tightened his jaw and forced his mind not to wander as he pulled the trigger a fifth time. It hit the target's left leg. Veld chuckled, close enough to Tseng's ear for Tseng to feel the warmth of his breath. 'Having problems?' his mentor asked.

'No,' Tseng replied. Veld did not step back. 'Sir,' Tseng said.

'Am I distracting you?' Veld asked.

'No Turk would be shooting with a man plastered to his back, sir,' Tseng said.

'Good,' Veld said, 'because neither would a Turk be shooting in a range with safety measures everywhere and at a target that doesn't shoot back. Fortunate for you, isn't it?'

Tseng took the sixth shot, and hit somewhere closer to the heart.

Veld kept him at languages and report writing and range practice and hours on the treadmill for four weeks; by the end of it Tseng was speaking in his would-be native language and taking the stairs up to the sixty-eighth floor every morning and writing adequately well with his off-hand. Reno made jokes about it, until Veld overheard him. The redhead found himself on the forty-ninth floor conducting equipment checks with Gen. Rhapsodos and Director Lazard, and returned oddly silent and wearing a tie the next day.

It felt, to Tseng, like living in limbo – he hadn't been in active duty for so long that he was beginning to miss the feel of a jungle less urban and more natural. He supposed that Veld considered that a problem, and had his suspicions confirmed when he was called in a week before the cast was to come off and informed that his next mission was to Wutai.

'Wutai, sir,' he echoed Veld.

'Did you think I was setting you on the language as creative punishment?' the Director asked.

'No, sir.'

'Good. Your brief if here. The objective is to shadow the team of engineers and PR staff who will be delivering potential plans for expansion in Mako energy in the region. They're proposing the construction of a new reactor near the main capital. Conveniently, an armed SOLDIER contingent will be following. As a "precautionary detail", or so Deusericus is claiming.'

'That,' Tseng said, fingers curling, 'will not be well received.'

'Which is where you come in,' Veld nodded. 'Best put away your materia and marksmanship for this one. Show me that I haven't spent half a decade training a bone breaker or trigger finger.'

'Any efforts may be potentially neutralised by SOLDIER,' Tseng brought up. The memory of the night at Sector Eight burned in his mind's eye. 'In which case –'

'In which case I still wouldn't care for a bone breaker,' Veld said, placidly, gazing up at Tseng. 'Nor for a trigger finger.'

'Sir,' Tseng said.

'One day you'll know the value of when not to use that term,' Veld informed him. He waved a dismissal. 'Go make your preparations.'

Preparations.

Tseng waited until the office had emptied out before he went into his private office and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. The syringes glowed a patient, potent green.

'I expected better.'

Veld's voice sliced through the darkness of the room.

Tseng's back stiffened, but he didn't pull away or attempt to make what he was doing seem like anything but what it was. 'Sir,' he said.

'And you discover when to use the deferential,' Veld nodded. He snapped on the lights.

Veld looked angry, which was an emotion Tseng had rarely seen. Tseng opened his mouth to say something. 'S-'

'Shut up,' Veld ordered, coming into the room. He locked the door behind him.

'Vel-'

'I believe I told you,' Veld said, turning, 'to be silent.'

Tseng shook his head. 'I'm acting because I believe that this may turn out to be a necessary augmentation –'

'For what?' Veld growled, coming closer. 'Your pride?' He grabbed Tseng by the tie, and exerted enough force pulling the younger man in that Tseng felt his neck snap backwards. 'Your confidence?'

Veld laughed in Tseng's face, a harsh and staccato sound. 'You wear a tie, not a pair of military fatigues.' He shook Tseng, hard, before he spun Tseng around and slammed his face into the desk. 'Stay,' Veld said, without once raising his voice.

'Si-'

'I said to stay, not to speak,' Veld continued, voice still deceptively calm. He walked around to the other side of Tseng's desk, and opened the drawers. Tseng heard the sound of glass clinking against glass, but did not lift his head to look. He felt the vibration of Veld's footsteps as the man came around behind him.

Silence fell. Tseng could hear the ticking of the clock in the room as it did a round. He counted sixty. Ninety. 'Veld, sir.'

'Is it so difficult to obey a simple order?' was the response Tseng received.

Tseng went mute. Sixty. Ninety. Hundred and twenty. Hundred and eighty. He felt his back scream with the sensation of being left totally open. His spine curved, a spasm going through him once every few moments as he fought the urge to turn, to look, to move.

Tseng jumped when the syringes came crashing down next to his face two hundred and forty seconds in; Veld was suddenly there behind him to push his face back against the tabletop. The glass went everywhere, some of it cutting across his cheek as he snapped his eyes closed. The smell of refined Mako permeated the air, sickly and strong, and when Tseng looked he could see the green glow just a few centimetres away.

'You were going to put that into yourself,' Veld said, conversationally. Fingers tightening in Tseng's hair, he dragged his Turk closer to the shattered remains of Hojo's medicine. 'Look at it.'

Tseng bit his tongue. He looked.

'Now,' Veld said, 'lick it.'

Tseng went deadly still.

Veld's grip did not tighten. He did not push Tseng. He did not speak. Fear built like lactic acid in Tseng's limbs; every part of him screamed. Thirty. Sixty. Ninety. Breathing hard, Tseng extended his tongue. It rasped against the table, drawing up the liquid Mako and when he drew it back into his mouth to swallow –

Veld snapped his head back and pulled Tseng fully upright with terrifying strength before crushing his mouth to the younger man's and drawing Tseng's tongue into his own, sucking – and Tseng didn't know what to do or how to react or what to say – didn't have a chance to, before Veld pushed him away and turned his head and spat out the Mako onto the floor. Veld wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then spat again before cornering Tseng against the wall and saying, 'Do I have to outline this lesson for you as well?'

'No, sir,' Tseng said, paralysed. Veld kicked his legs apart.

'Do I need to tell you why you're allowed to wear this tie?' Veld asked as he pulled said item of clothing away from Tseng's neck.

'No, sir,' Tseng said.

'Do I need to give you instructions to follow for when to obey and not to obey?' Veld growled, and he didn't bother with Tseng's shirt – he spun the man and went for Tseng's belt. 'Do I have to inform you how to use the intelligence you were gifted with?'

'No, sir,' Tseng said, pressing his forehead against the wall.

'Give me one excuse, Tseng. I am not even asking for a reason,' Veld snarled as he stripped the leather off of Tseng's hips and threw it on the floor. He pulled at the zip of Tseng's pants.

'SOLDIER is physically stronger than us,' Tseng said, pushed beyond the point of stammering. 'They hold grudges, have company support from both the Science and Presidential departments, can serve as figureheads in ways Turks will never be able to and have the resources at hand to infiltrate every department by force - fuck,' he swore, when he felt Veld push his slacks past his knees.

'And so you thought to use the toys that Hojo so conveniently put in your hand?' Veld snapped, putting his hand flat on the wall beside Tseng's head and using the other to dig marks into Tseng's upper thigh.

'Considering the options, sir, yes,' Tseng gasped, attempting to turn and awash with shame.

Veld slapped Tseng's face right into the wall, and then he reached around and grabbed Tseng by his cock and pulled so hard that Tseng snarled with pain; it wasn't pleasurable. He waited for Tseng to catch his breath before he yanked again, and harder, and let Tseng collapse backwards into him before pushing Tseng bodily against the wall. Then Veld said: 'You stay away from Mako, Tseng, that is what you do. And if SOLDIER beats you into the ground then you damned well stay down and let them break in your ribs or your teeth. I don't care what you look like when you stand up; I don't care if the uniform ends up muddied or ripped - at least the Turk that comes back up on his feet is going to be a human being - and if you don't come up afterwards, then at least you've died with some dignity, instead of as a forsaken labrat unable to think, use tactics, or adapt to the fucking situation at hand. Do I make myself clear?'

Tseng, heaving, clawed at the wall with his hand once, twice, before saying, 'Yes, sir.'

'Good,' Veld growled. He stepped back, wiped his hands on his pants leg, and let Tseng drop to his knees. 'Now get your clothes back on, and clean the mess off of your table. You're not going to Wutai.'

Tseng knew better than to speak.

Veld waited for him to dress before he nodded and said, 'Come here.' He held Tseng's tie in his hand.

Tseng went. He did not bow his head. He looked Veld in the eye. He did not flinch when his collar was flipped up or when Veld threaded the silk about his neck. 'Humiliation you can wash off,' Veld said, voice low. 'Shame you can wear for a while, and then discard when you have outgrown it. But what the Science department offers is a death sentence. And you, or any other Turk, will not accept any death sentence from any man who doesn't wear the suit.' When Veld's knuckles scraped Tseng's skin, Tseng did not grimace. Veld finished the knot, and did not choke Tseng with it afterwards.

'You're going to Junon,' he told the Turk, his Turk, his boy that he needed very badly to grow into everything Tseng was required to be. 'To Junon, and Rufus Shinra, where you're going to learn how to play politics with the best.'

[Fic][Less than saintly][FF7:CC] Angeal/Sephiroth

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 19:30:36 GMT

Title: Less than saintly
Author/Artist: jurhael
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex, swearing
Word count: 1276
Summary: Angeal tells Zack the story of what happened to Genesis's Loveless book.
A/N: For Insanejournal Comm: Kinkfest. FTR, I laughed my ass off while writing this. Prompt: July 2--Final Fantasy VII - Angeal/Seph - office sex - desecrating Genesis's Loveless book

Did I ever tell you how I desecrated Genesis’s favorite book? Don’t look too shocked, puppy, even I have my moments of being less than saintly. Besides, I wasn’t really my idea, it was Sephiroth’s. Yes, his. He just plain got sick of “Loveless”, and wanted to do more than irritate my best friend.

I was in Sephiroth’s office when the idea came up. He stood at the window and I found myself almost hypnotized by his white hair. I liked looking at him framed against sunlight. Yes, Zack, he is beautiful, especially when he is actually smiling. I noticed “Loveless” sitting among some papers.

“That belongs to Genesis.” I didn’t ask. I knew.

Sephiroth didn’t say anything at first. He simply walked in front of the desk and leaned against it. I could swear that he was mentally swimming in mischief, something Genesis usually indulged in.

“Don’t you get sick of “Loveless”? He asked.

I had to be honest, I did, but whenever Genesis quoted it, I simply enjoyed hearing his voice. It’s safe to say that I didn’t care what Genesis said, just so long as I could hear his voice. Besides, it’s not like “Loveless” is the only thing he ever reads, so oftentimes, I would simply pretend that he’s quoting something else. I didn’t tell Sephiroth all this. I simply said that I sometimes did.

He didn’t believe me. He picked up the book and said, “I always wanted to tear out the pages and wipe my ass with them.”

I just stood there with my jaw wide open, just like you’re doing now. I never considered doing something like that, but honestly? I liked what I heard, even though I knew that such a thing was risky at best. Sephiroth walked over to me and closed my mouth. His hand felt good on me. We don’t often do anything sexual together without Genesis, but when we do, well, it’s good that hardly anyone knows about it.

There’s no foreplay with us. At least not a whole lot. There’s also no gentle caresses, nothing romantic, and above all, no talking. That day wasn’t any different. We simply got to the point. I pushed Sephiroth against the desk while he made sure that paperwork turned into giant office snowflakes. He kept “Loveless” close to him though, and I grabbed fistfuls of his stark white hair before locking my lips with his. I know you probably want more than that, but I’m not Genesis, so all I can tell you is that we stripped as much as we could and ran our hands over our bodies. None of this stopped Sephiroth from grabbing “Loveless”, opening it, and tearing some of the pages to wads each time I stroked him in the right places. I found a potion on his belt, and I began to think of what would happen once Genesis found out. Not if, but when. I looked into Sephiroth’s aquamarine eyes, and I saw no worry, so I stopped thinking and started fucking.

There’s really nothing like office sex. You get the thrill of wondering if someone will walk right in, plus the added bonus of knowing that workplaces aren’t quite meant for doing the carnal, so to speak. No one heard us, our kisses made of that, but then again, only Genesis shouted during bedtime play. Still, better safe than sorry. Course if I really believed that, I wouldn’t have let Sephiroth tear out more of the “Loveless” pages. I could have sworn that I saw, “My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess.” Actually, I desired an orgasm right about then.

When we finally finished, I withdrew to put my clothes back on, and saw that Sephiroth did exactly what he set out to do. Yes, that’s right, Zack. Yes. He wiped his ass with a few of the wads. I laughed. He laughed. Hell, we both laughed while wiping ourselves with “Loveless”. You’re right to laugh now. I don’t blame you. I know that the two of you don’t always get along, and I know all too well how he can be. The answer to your question is yes, he did find out. He walked in right after we finished dressing. Talk about bad timing.

What Genesis did? Do you have to ask? Oh, Zack, you’re going to love this. His skull split into three different sections, and slid down his face as flames shot out of him like one pissed off volcano. His eyes looked like those bombs you’ve fought during missions, his hair turned into lava salamanders, and quite simply, he looked a religious fanatic who lit himself on fire. Only with Genesis, others would burn with him. Needless to say, he was angry, and yes, I’m glad you find it hilarious.

Okay, so it wasn’t all that cinematic. It’s pretty safe to say that he actually felt a lot of things. Rage, of course, being among them, but I could also see hurt. Sephiroth kept his distance, a wise choice.

“What did you do?” He asked, actually sounding more calm than you think, I could hear him boiling on the inside. He walked over to the ruined book. “What the hell did you do?” This time, he shouted, and even Sephiroth flinched. I tried to diffuse the situation.

“It was a joke, Genesis. We didn’t mean any harm.”

He didn’t buy it. “I cannot believe that you would do this to me, Angeal! I could expect this from Sephiroth, but not from you!” He pointed at me and his gloved finger might as well have fired bullets. “How could you let this happen?”

“Sephiroth...well, Genesis...” I sighed. I just looked down, feeling like the very thing that smeared those pages. Sephiroth stepped in.

“You can always get another one. It’s just a book.”

And then he poured gasoline on himself, set himself on fire, and threw himself out a window. Or, he might as well have.

“Yea?” Genesis about screamed. “Well, your Masamume is just a sword! You don’t see me wiping my ass with it!”

Sephiroth simply folded his arms, and smiled. Smiled. Yes, that’s right, smiled. “Of course not, you’d cut yourself.”

“Don’t you fucking DARE smart off at me!” Genesis looked ready to set everything and everyone on fire when he clenched his fist. “Or I’ll turn this place into an inferno!”

“We’ll get you another copy!” I answered as fast as possible. “A special one!”

“We will?” Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” I snapped. “Yes, Genesis, we will. I promise. It’ll be one of the more expensive editions. I’ll make it up to you. You know I don’t go back on my word easily.”

“You better not.” Genesis walked out of the office, and the air felt a whole lot lighter.

“Sephiroth...”

“I’ll pay half the cost.” He smiled once more, and my stomach dropped. “But, I also have something else in mind.”

Oh boy did he. No, don’t worry, it wasn’t anything too bad, but Genesis wasn’t entirely pleased either. He didn’t much care for the comic books that shared the same name as his beloved poem.

“What the fuck is this?” He glared at Sephiroth. We were in my apartment and I hoped that he wouldn’t set the plants on fire.

“Just keep digging in the box, Genesis.” I answered, stifling my laughter.

He did, and needless to say, he was happy. The book looked gorgeous and it was a reddish-pink color. I considered it rather fitting. Kind of like my dick in both their asses. I figured you’d like that one.

Fic: Skeins of Suits

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 20:04:52 GMT

Greetings and an offering of a fic:

Title: Skeins of Suits.
Fandom: FFVII
Character/Pairings: Tseng, implied Tseng/Elena, Tseng/Rufus
Rating: R, due to language and implications.
Summary: The suits which maketh a Turk: But at some point, they all wonder whether he ever leaves the office, whether he has any other residency outside the walls of stone and glass, greys and whites..

A/N: This is the answer to a prompt request from karanguni for a Tseng fic. I can’t guarantee anything, but I hope you approve :)
Disclaimer: I wish. SquareEnix owns.

follow Tseng...

[fic] Ein Sof: Aharit ha-yamim [The End of Days]

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 13:45:55 GMT

Title: Aharit ha-yamim
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Rating: PG
Warnings: Worksafe! But maybe not so very keeping-brain-unbent-safe. ^^;;
Word count: 1,235
Summary: In the end, he would be the one who stood in the flames of the end of days, the planet at his feet.
Prompt: Sephiroth/Aeris - healing - Lights will guide you home/And ignite your bones/And I will try to fix you.
A/N: This was written for kinkfest on insanejournal, but it's crossposted everywhere. It's part of a "series" of standalones called Ein Sof that are based on the Tree of Life and Jewish mysticism.

Aharit ha-yamim

(Ein Sof fic list)

Genesis Awards Nominations Now Open!

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 09:16:38 GMT

This is an announcement to all readers and writers of FFVII fanfiction.

The Genesis Awards is a forum dedicated to recognizing and rewarding the best in FFVII fanfiction. Do you know a really wonderful fic that deserves renown? Think one of your own fics has what it takes to beat out the competition? Please stop by our forum and give it a nomination! Rules and link under the cut. (This post will be cross-posted to other relevant communities, so apologies if this is old news!)

Here are the rules for this year's awards:

Nominations will open on Tuesday, 1st July. If you have any further questions about the nominations process, please check the FAQ thread or contact a staff member.

Nomination Process

Use the forum's nomination threads to nominate. The nomination threads will have separate threads for each of the award categories. From there, you can nominate your favourite fics in the appropriate thread, cutting and pasting the example form. Guest posting will be enabled on this board, so there is no need to register if you don't want to.

Please note that IP addresses will be monitored in case of spammers, inappropriate posts and the like.

Nomination Span

The nominations will run for five months. The starting date is 1st July, and the closing date is 1st December. Please make sure your votes and nominations are within these dates, since late or early ones will not be accepted. The winners should be announced in 2009.

Nominated Fic Rules

1 - Fics nominated must have been published on or after 1st January 2006. They can be of any rating, but they must be written in English.

2 - The nominated fics should focus on and include aspects of the FFVII world.

3 - Fics of any status (complete, WiP, oneshot) and type (poetry, drabble, multichapters etc) are all allowed to be nominated.

4 - Poetry and drabbles can only nominated in their type category (e.g a poem can only be nominated for the 'Best Poem' award).

WiPs, completed multichapter, and one-shot fics can be nominated for up to two genre category awards, and their type category.

5 - Nominated fics should show a certain standard of grammar and formatting, relevance to canon and characterisation. Before fics are eligible to be part of the shortlist, they will be read over and checked by preliminary readers. Please note that staff members have the right to disallow any nominated fic which they think is substandard or nominated with very little seriousness.

6 - No more than twelve fics may be nominated in each category. If a category reaches its maximum limit, the thread will be locked and no more nominations will be accepted for that category.

7 - WiP fics should be at least five chapters long and updated at least ten months before the last day of nomination.

8 - Authors can nominate their own works. If the said author is a judge, they will not be allowed to take part in the judging of their fic.

9 - Fics which were nominated in the last awards are not allowed to be nominated again. Please check the list of last year's nominations to make sure that the fic you want to nominate hasn't already been nominated previously.

Please get involved, and have fun nominating!

Link here: http://genesisawards.proboards100.com/index.cgi

Can Barely Hide, chapter 2; Reno X Cloud; NC-17

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 06:46:18 GMT

TITLE: Can Barely Hide, chapter 2
PAIRING: Reno X Cloud
AUTHORS: lilymoon1 as Reno, grygon as Cloud
RATING: NC-17
WORD COUNT: 4,040
NOTES: This is a RPG between the two writers but we treated it as a fanfic. It’s been edited for minor spelling and a few fragments but that is all. Please enjoy and please comment. :)
SUMMARY: Cloud and Reno come to a little understanding in the shower.

Intro/Chapter 1 is highly recommended

And after that you can read chapter two...

( His breath was scorching his neck... no, those were his teeth. )

Restorations I (Tseng, Rufus, Reeve, Wutai, Midgar)

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 03:57:53 GMT

Title: Restorations I
Rating: PG
Characters: Tseng, Rufus, Reeve, Wutai, Midgar, everyone.
Summary: And Shinra said, we are going to save the world, and then said, but let us start with restorations.
Warnings: First part of a multiparter - one or two more chapters planned. Canon AU. "What happens after Midgar." Gen, with slash when you squint. You may have to squint less in other chapters.

2410 words, and Rufus would like you to know that he is perfectly harmless, thank you.

They sent him into Wutai because it was the predictable thing to do, and these days it paid to do things predictably.

When Rufus told them what he wanted of Tseng, Reno said, 'Once upon a time we'd just have caught them off their guard,' as he rocked back into an office chair they'd plundered from the remains of the tower. 'Slapped them in the face and got in and got out.'

'When I said restoration, Reno,' Rufus interjected, 'I didn't mean either restoration by force, or restoration of Shinra alone.'

'Really?' Reno asked, spinning to look their President – de facto, but even de facto titles were important – in the eye. His reply was too arch to be simple. Rufus managed a wry smile when Reno followed up saying, 'Sorry, boss. After years of being selfish bastards, it's hard to break out of the habit, yeah?'

So they sent him to Wutai in the oddest of roles: the herald with the olive-branch, the penitentiary, the gruesome apologetic who would walk into a nation he abandoned with the name of the world's most popular enemy written across his chest and, in all audacity, bow in the ways he'd forgotten in front of the elders he did not remember while offering them words they did not want before finally proffering monetary support and plans for infrastructure which they would no doubt throw back into his face.

Tseng told Rufus as much. 'You're sending me there on a suicide mission.'

'Are they going to stone you to death?' came the mild response. 'And even if they are, you're familiar with the procedure, aren't you? Men in glass houses, after all.'

'You haven't changed, sir,' Tseng said, and he meant that in the worst way possible.

Rufus was eager for reform; he thirsted for it now like he'd wanted very few things in his privileged, particular and perversely narrow lifestyle. The end of the world had made him into a reformist and a protector of cultural rights and a saint with a conscience, except that saints, Tseng was fair sure, did not have the methods Rufus Shinra had. What was the use of a conscience when one used it the way one once wielded fear? Tseng had spent too many years as a Turk thinking about apologetics.

Tseng doubted Rufus had ever, with all due respect, contemplated anything other than politics. He said, 'Shinra no longer owns the world.'

'And I wonder, Tseng,' Rufus replied. 'I wonder, did Shinra ever?' – and Tseng had to give pause. Rufus Shinra could frustrate and could irritate with what seemed like short-sighted blindness and inadvertent arrogance, but as Rufus turned to face him, Tseng saw the man he'd chosen to follow a long time ago there – 'No, you're not a philosopher. Go to Wutai. Give them what they don't want. They'll most likely loathe you for it. They'd rather spend a decade as an independent backwater developing at a crawl than spend a year of steady growth relying on blooded money. And if they do, we'll both be here watching them struggle every foot of the way. It's repentance either way, isn't it? The truth of a good game plan. Go to Wutai. Go back home. Make that your apology. It's harsh enough for even your own standards, I believe.'

'Rufus,' Tseng spoke. There'd been too much heat in those words. It was in Rufus' nature to do things past the point; he could do it with self-blame as easily as he could with his games of money and moving mountains.

'Pity is for those who have the time and luxury for it,' Rufus said. 'We gave up that time after the end of the world, remember?'

'You haven't changed, sir,' Tseng said again. 'At least, not in your penchant for dramatics.'

The flint in Rufus' eyes faded, partially, and for a moment he looked like what and who he was – twenty-odd years old and world-weary. If Tseng stayed, they'd keep comparing scars, and then there'd be no end in sight. 'What are you offering them?' Tseng questioned, and it was like pushing a switch – Rufus reached into his drawer and drew out a grid plan and a data module, and then it was work: foundations for an electrical circuitry system, boosters for PHS signals, soft and hard copy blueprints for solar and turbine power generators, invoices for a stock of chemical scrubbers to be used in equipment until the time that oil and carbon based fuels could be discontinued.

Rufus was smiling, at the end of the session. Tseng raised an eyebrow in askance. 'I wanted to change the world when I was a child, didn't I?' Rufus asked.

'Don't confuse yourself,' Tseng shook his head, standing and tucking the documents under his arm. 'When you were a child, you wanted to rule the world. The two are different.'

'Go to Wutai,' Rufus sighed, dropping his head to his chest. 'Just go to Wutai.'

That said, they couldn't just call up and helicopter and fly themselves wherever they wanted; it wasn't so easy anymore. More than that - Rufus was used to seeing the big picture, used to operating within it, and all his instructions still sounded the same and had the same competency, but they'd relied on buildings worth of people that were no longer theirs now. If it had been Midgar and not Edge, there would have been hundreds of engineers, human resource people, technicians and publicists who could have, once upon a time, come up with a plan in twenty-four hours and have each individual, blindly developed piece delivered to Tseng with an eyes-only command attached.

Things were more transparent in the new age, or whatever it was the people chose to call it. Reeve didn't look pleased to see him when Tseng arrived at the World Restoration Organisation headquarters, but Reeve rarely look pleased at all these days, and Tseng could hardly blame him.

'And Shinra's mess comes knocking on my door again,' Reeve sighed when Tseng walked into his office. 'What absurd miracle does Rufus want now?'

Absurd was a good description of their situation. The WRO and Shinra were opposites in the eyes of the public, and yet internally they ran parallel: Rufus wanted to "do good", and Reeve wanted to rebuild. Their aims were similar; their operating procedures vastly different. 'You have the money,' Reeve had told Rufus in their initial meetings conducted at Haelin with only Elena and Tseng as witnesses. 'But I know men who would rather starve and die than work under the Shinra banner, and I wouldn't call them foolish for it.'

And Reeve was right - there had been an enormous fallout after Midgar was abandoned. Shinra held all the assets and facilities and wages and jobs, but men were beginning to remember inconveniences such as integrity and honour. Without the behemoth city looming up and above and everywhere, and without the anonymous crowd, and without the noise of an eternal night-time padded by a green Mako glow, out in Edge city men turned into neighbours, co-workers and friends. The cranes and the buildings were coming up again, but now everything reached upwards from equal ground, and there were spaces in between plazas and alleys winding through corridors of shops and parks and a road that led back to the abandoned church. Edge was a different place. It had different people in it. These citizens wanted no part in the conspiracy that had bled their planet dry and wrung them almost to extinction. Shinra was spat on. Salaried men and wage-earners alike left their jobs and took to the street.

Reeve had inherited the headaches of a teething city. Tseng didn't envy him any more than he envied Rufus. 'Every time you come into my office, Tseng, I get a headache,' the director of the WRO said, beckoning the Turk into one of the many chairs littered in front of his desk. 'If Rufus wants a vehicle, he sends Elena. If he wants blueprints and maps, he sends Rude. If he wants me to overrule a plan, he sends Reno. But every time he sends you, I end up having to give you an arm and a leg and half of my already much-shortened lifetime.'

'All hail Reeve Tuesti,' was Tseng's bemused reply. 'Saviour of the world not once, but twice.'

'I didn't save the world with Cloud,' Reeve held up a hand. 'Don't get me wrong. It was a good job, but that was the beginning, not the end. And now Strife runs a delivery service sending packages back and forth from Kalm to old Midgar while Lockhart tends a bar in the crumbling remains of a slum that has an entire dysfunctional city hanging above it just waiting for structural damage and rust to eat through its supports. You understand if I'm vexed.'

'I understand,' Tseng said, slipping into a chair. 'And you're still facing recruitment problems?'

'Some people don't trust in large organisations anymore,' Reeve said, wryly. 'They seem to forget that the only thing that kept them fed and clothed was Shinra, and that if they don't want to go to Rufus, they'll have to come to me. Instead, we have a third of the population requesting licenses to set up their own shops and rent their own spaces. It's good spirit,' Reeve said, patting a large folder. 'But I can't help them like that.'

'Meanwhile, Rufus sells them tractors and large vehicles and cranes at prices which have him complaining ceaselessly,' Tseng nodded. 'And then they get the equipment and they savage off the red logo and work them until they break down, and look in askance when Rufus can't provide them enough. They think we're planning something. Conspiring again.'

'Did you come here to talk about Edge alone?' Reeve asked, narrowing his eyes at Tseng. 'Because if you want a list of complaints the city has, Tseng, I can give you one a mile long, and that's not a metaphor. Rufus knows what's wrong with Edge. Rufus thinks Edge is Midgar; he keeps better tabs on things than I do, sometimes. So that's not why you're here.'

'No,' Tseng admitted, pulling out his data module. 'It's Wutai.'

There was a pause.

'Hell just take Rufus now,' Reeve said simply. 'It'll save me the effort of throttling him myself.'

'We know the worst of the damage is here in Edge -'

'Which is precisely why Rufus wants something from me to deal with an entire culture and country that's halfway across the planet? Tseng,' Reeve said, an element of threat in his voice. He welcomed Turks in past his doors, but reserved the right to ask them to leave.

'- but Wutai is a danger of a different sort,' Tseng finished his sentence. 'You're an engineer, Tuesti, not an environmentalist.'

'And Rufus Shinra is?'

'He wasn't,' Tseng agreed. 'But he's had two years worth of calling in every tertiary-educated professional in the field, and he sits in his office reading through old lecture notes skimmed off of the university's servers, then old maps and the updated ones after. You have to remember who he is, Reeve. By the time Rufus was sixteen, his father had ensured he knew enough about materia and Mako to keep up with the developments in Hojo's laboratories. I'm rather sure Rufus would have ensured it himself even without his father's insistence. Do you really think that he'd sit idly just because he no longer has a Science department to find his answers for him?'

'So now he's a, what were the words that Shinra used to describe AVALANCHE in the past? A "hippy tree hugger"?'

'I've not seen Rufus hug a tree,' Tseng said. 'And he continues to dress sensibly.'

'God,' Reeve swore, very softly, before he cleared some space on his desk. 'Fine. Talk to me. What does he see?'

Tseng put down a map, and brought out a transparent overlay. He laid his data module beside it, and tapped on it. 'Wutai,' he said, keeping his voice flat and his eyes blank, 'sits in the Western continent, and spreads from this latitude,' he pointed with his stylus, 'through to here, and this longitude here. Within the boundary just outside of its capital,' Tseng highlighted a substantial area on the screen, 'sits some of the richest oil deposits on their continent. They investigated and drilled extraction points in three separate locations over fifty years ago, but within two decades Mako technology had been developed, and the consequent wars did not stop the spread of ported reserves into the towns even if it prevented a generator from being built over the Mako-rich mines in the north-westerly regions.'

Tseng overlaid the transparency on the map. 'There has been news that Wutai is choosing to drill again,' he said, quietly. 'Seven points excluding the re-opening of the initial three, which would give them enough crude oil to fuel the West for at least a hundred years, but produce enough run-off considering their outdated state of technology to poison the inner-land sea to the east and throw us back to Corel-type pollution. Wallace and Strife, with your permission, run an extraction near Kalm, but they accepted Shinra-based technology and limit their emissions and run-off. Wutai is -' Tseng paused, tapping his stylus on the map's edge, 'stubborn. Its people are,' he paused again, 'stubborn.'

'Stubborn,' Reeve said, unimpressed. Tseng was calling a Cretan a liar. He looked up at him, and wondered which half of the Turk he was looking at - the part that belonged, or the part that'd forgotten.

Tseng ignored him. 'There have been requests made,' he said, voice calm, 'for them to cease their expansionary activities, or to - at the very least - accept newer technology from us. In both cases, their answer has been a rather resounding no.'

'Have you given them these damage reports?' Reeve asked, motioning at the documents.

'Insofar as we could over the limited networking and communications we have with them, yes,' Tseng said. 'They haven't been amenable.'

'Out of sheer "stubbornness"?' Reeve questioned, sceptical. 'That doesn't sound --'

'Right?' Tseng finished for the director. 'No, it's their nobler reason that keeps them at arm's length.'

'What did they say?' Reeve asked.

It was a smile tight and thin that found itself scarring Tseng's face. 'They said, oil is going to be the restoration of Wutai's honour.'

[and random ad again:] Go forth, ye kind hearted people, I know you want to.

Can Barely Hide; Reno X Cloud; NC-17

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 05:23:13 GMT

TITLE: Can Barely Hide, chapter 1
AUTHORS: lilymoon1 as Reno, and grygon as Cloud
PAIRING: Reno X Cloud
RATING: NC-17 overall, this chapter NC-17
WORD COUNT: 6,560

NOTES: This is a RPG between the two writers but we treated it as a fanfic. It’s been edited for minor spelling and a few fragments but that is all. Please enjoy and please comment.

SUMMARY: Reno and Cloud finally meet under new circumstances. Takes place after the final battle in AC (possible spoilers, but no biggies).

( Intro / Chapter 1 )