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#lifedxbt
azure-steel · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ liked for a lil starter
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Man, this guy was beginning to grate on his nerves something chronic. Of course, Cloud was not privy to whatever factors garnered Aerith so precious to the ShinRa cause, but he’d already agreed to take care of the girl to the best of his ability even if it was more for her sake more so than that of some suit. 
Wasn’t it high time they just let him get on with it?
“You know...” he starts, his voice little more than an irritated grumble. “... I’m trying to remember a time I opened a door and you weren’t there.” 
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unattainabledreams · 3 years
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For @lifedxbt​
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It was finally over, but even in the months after he'd regained himself the weight of what had happened and what he'd been forced to do still haunted him day and night. Zack was meant to be relaying some updates and requests from Commissioner Tuesti to be passed on to Rufus, but for their former (as Zack would consider it) friendship along with the wounds dealt to the man, he felt he owed the Turk some explanation.
"Hey..." He began somberly. It was an unusual reunion. Did Tseng know? Probably not- not what really happened at least. No one knew. He hadn't told- confessed -to anyone but Reeve just where he'd been until now, or what he’d done. He hadn't even approached Cloud yet...
"So uh..." An awkward head scratch. He hesitated, going over in his head just how to explain all this. "I'm sorry-" For what? For so much, every failure and short falling that lead to disaster after disaster and only served to put those he cared about in difficult positions. More often than not, left bleeding out. "About the Temple..." And oh Gaia so much more..
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ivory-paragon · 3 years
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        The sense of impending doom washed over him when he physically felt the door slide shut opposed to just hearing it. It caused him to flinch before bracing the wave of heat that felt hot under his collar. The tangle of emotions, something he usually pushed down enough so it wouldn’t surface and reveal his deposition on things, crumble as his hands form fists strong sufficient for his nails to embed irritated crescent shapes into his flesh.        It’s so discombobulated that he’s unsure WHAT he’s truly angry about—was it because he’s placed deep underneath the ShinRa building like some sort of prisoner by no other than his own father? Or was it because he failed in eradicating the source that placed him in this position currently. Bottom line: it was his father that put him in this situation. House arrest. Hah!        With mild interest, he roved his eyes around every detail of the space he’d be spending his time for gods knew how long. Though his father had grown distant after his mother had passed, he notes the small sentimental values that littered the establishment. How the books he favored in his youth had been escorted down here—maybe as a mockery. His hackles were raised enough to certainly think so.        And who would be his guards while all this unfolded? The Turks. The ones that had kidnapped him as collateral for their boss, how fate seemed to mock him. If they think he’d just roll over and accept this new life – they were sorely mistaken.
// @lifedxbt​
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kingofthecats · 3 years
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Reeve starter for @lifedxbt​
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This was not the first time Reeve had assisted the Turks in their plans, having discreetly provided them with his support all those years ago when they briefly separated from Shinra, going as far as to lend them Cait Sith to aid them in their goals of finding support materia. It had been that very mission that led to the young Vice President commenting on how they could use the said drone for reconnaissance purposes.
“The upgrades are nearly done, Cait Sith should it be fully operational within the next hour. I just need a convenient place to leave him for Avalanche to find,” he informed Tseng, not looking up from his workbench where he was currently fiddling with the wires in the cat doll's stomach.
Reeve felt cold towards Tseng and his men for their role in dropping the Sector 7 plate, but mostly he was angry at himself for not trying harder to talk the late President Shinra out of his plans, and not being quick enough to send Cait Sith down to the pillar to thwart the Turks. 
“Had the late President been...removed from his position earlier...do you think Rufus would have gone with the original plan to drop the plate?" he asked, despite knowing what he was asking was basically treason, and that the answer wouldn't change what happened.
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giftofthegodess · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ replied:  Bite me
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“Is that a request, Tseng?”
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cultivatxr · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ ❤’d for a starter.
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She’s unusually quiet for once, while she engages in his company. A familiar and decidedly new winter jacket adorning her shoulders as she wandered, wordlessly at his side through the dust peppered streets of her homestead. There’s a comfort in the silence that she can’t explain, a kind of muted understanding that makes her feel better, even if only to be near to someone that she thinks, deep down, might actually genuinely care. There’s something Aerith wants to ask him, a request really that harkens back to an offer of escape he’d given her in the months that had proceeded this moment, but she doesn’t want to ruin it just yet. Doesn’t want to be parted from all that she knows and loves, when she can make little interludes of normality just like this, last for a few moments more. 
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“You know how to skate right?” It’s a far less serious question that leaves her as she nods to the pop-up ice rink, the fake snowy paradise the closest she’s ever come to the arctic wilds of her birth. She can still remember every year coming down here to watch the other children indulge in their familial frivolity at the very end of the festive season; swears blind she can still hear the laughter sometimes as it carries on the wind long into Summer. Is it childish to ask this of him, with her hand outstretched and a smile that could rival the sun? Bright eyes half pleading, even if only for the luxury of being able to hold his hand and make a memory to cherish amidst a sea of otherwise unpalatable goodbyes. “…because I don’t.” 
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tsurugixbuster · 3 years
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@lifedxbt
The SOLDIER can't help but laugh in response to Tseng's words.
"The 1st Class said blow me, understood."
The excitement was already pulsing through the SOLDIER's body. The thrill of battle lighting his mako fueled blood aflame with adrenaline and anticipation. Already his hand aches for the comfort of his sword hilt. For the fighting to begin, so that it could done.
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"A lot of crazy stuff going on lately right?"
At least that's what rumors were around the SOLDIER department. There were even talks of a rebellion.
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dreamsofasoldier · 3 years
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❖ │ │ ♛ ━━
          The area was hazy - as if Tseng was dreaming. Zack had died a long time ago and appearing in front of him like this, well, Zack could see in his body language that he seemed a little uncomfortable. After all who would be okay with seeing a ghost? Zack moves towards him placing a hand on his shoulder and smiles.
             ❝ It’s been a long time my friend. ❞
          Zack removes his hand and places it on his hips.
            ❝ I hope you’ve been keeping your promise to me, right? You’re the only one I can trust in all of this after all. ❞
           His usual casual chuckle escaping his lips.
                                                                                                  ( @lifedxbt​ )
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fullthrottled · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ said:  ❝ i, personally, would love to calm down, and yet- ❞
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❝   NEED  TO  BLOW  OFF  STEAM  ?   ❞  the  SOLDIER  is  almost  cocky  when  he  poses  the  question  ,  mischievous  smirk  upon  his  lips  to  boot  as  he  sits  upon  his  bike  sideways  ,  a  familiar  book  in  hand  .  he  doesn’t  spare  a  single  glance  at  the  turk  ,  already  recognizing  them  by  footsteps  alone  .  ❝   y’know  ,  since  deep  breaths  don’t  seem  to  be  working  ...  i  always  find  a  little  chaos  is  the  best  medicine  for  a  restless  heart  .   ❞
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fairweatherpuppeh · 4 years
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@lifedxbt​
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     “Tseng.” gone was the hyperactive friend the director had known once, a true SOLDIER stood in his place as he opened his hand. “You have them don’t you...? her letters. Why did you keep them from me....?”
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devilreno · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ liked for a small starter !
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       “Chief? You good? Talk to me, yo. What’s the sitch?” With a perturbed frown upon his face, the redheaded Turk remains on stand-by for potential issues occurred while waiting for an answer and/or directions.
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azure-steel · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ continued from here [X]
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So that’s how it was going to be, was it?
There was little doubt in Strife’s mind that the threat was anything but idle, Tseng excreted an air of intimidating superiority, much like how a frog coats ones flesh with a potent toxin. But even this factor failed to kill the light haze of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Needless to say, given how Cloud had already messed up this guy’s subordinates, he’d very much enjoy seeing him try~
“I wasn’t aware we had a contract. I don’t work for free.” 
It was not Cloud’s intention to diminish the importance of Aerith’s life; the girl was dear to him possibly in more ways than the Turk was willing to read into, but he wasn’t about to allow this man to deliver his ultimatums without just cause either. He was no longer SOLDIER, thus harboured zero obligation to follow orders from anyone, least of all some ShinRa lapdog who spoke to him like the filth found on the sole of his boot. 
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turkoftheslums · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ sent:  He understood that Reno was quietly suffering his moral crisis. He also understood that there was little he could do to help. Even if he did soften his cold exterior for Reno, it wouldn't bring any lives back. So his small solution wasn't the healthiest, but it was what he could offer. When it was the two of them in the office, he placed a bottle of spiced gin on Reno's desk. "A bonus. For your good work."
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Reno is tired.
The Sector 7 order has been weighing heavily on his mind with no signs of letting up - to the point that the redhead can no longer hide the battle going on in his head. He’s been quieter since he woke up; little energy for anything and almost always has his head down. Just because he’s no longer physically useless, doesn’t mean he isn’t mentally useless.
“Useless”. Just like his attempt to stall at the pillar. Just like his attempt to end the lives of as few people as possible.
The pillar was still dropped. The death toll was still too high.
And in one fell swoop, Reno had racked up the highest kill count among the Turks. That shit sticks with you.
Gloveless hands rub over tired eyes as Reno leans back and a groan drags itself from dry lips. His hands move into his hair, unobstructed by goggles that currently reside atop his desk, and his fingers find purchase among his roots while he stares vacantly up at the ceiling. He’ll get over it eventually - processing just takes time.
He doesn’t realise it’s just the two of them until the bottle lands atop his desk, jerking him out of his thoughts. His head snaps down to spot the source of the noise before moving back up to meet Tseng’s gaze. One wouldn’t have to look closely to see how little sleep Reno was getting over the incident: undereye bags he spends less and less effort each day to cover them and fading red marks on his cheek bones. He’s a wreck and they both know it.
Hands fall from head to desk and pause-- before reaching out to take the bottle and examine it. "A bonus. For your good work." A quiet, bitter bark expels itself from Reno’s lungs in response. If ‘good’ is what you could call it then sure, whatever. Knock yourself out.
“It’s a good thing it’s only us here,” he begins before opening the bottle and taking a few gulps of the alcohol - he’s not clocked out but who gives a fuck? Not him, that’s for sure. Satisfied, he removes the bottle from his lips, reseals it and returns it to the table before finishing, “any onlookers would think you’re goin’ soft.”
It’s meant in jest but he appreciates the sentiment more than he lets on. They’re all pawns trapped under President Shinra’s thumb and thus must carry out his every whim regardless of their morals.
Reno eyes the alcohol up yet again as thoughts run through his mind and he opens the bottle yet again to gulp down more gin with fervour before slamming it back on his desk. He’s gonna need more alcohol today but it’s a start and as he leans back, eyes not quite willing to meet Tseng’s, he’s for once glad that they’re sealed off in the basement.
“The President is a fucking coward.”
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xvalanche · 3 years
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Sets a glass of brandy down in front of Heidegger wordlessly before sipping his own.
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“What is this?” 
Tseng surely knows - the general’s weakness to alcohol. A weakness that had stalked him since the war; the damage it deals as sharp as any blade. 
He eyes the glass, his tongue tasting it long before it has ever even reached his lips. For a moment, he looks close to holding out - to claiming a victory in the private war he wages every night. A war on his own goddamn sense of self. To those around him, Heidegger carries himself as the King’s hand, but behind closed doors? Was it always then that the weight would crush him? That a glass of something strong seemed to be the only thing to do the trick and keep him going-
he takes a swig. Hard, fast. It’s as bitter and as similar as the things that they’d been through and Heidegger barely takes a minute to even think of such a fact before he’s tilting the empty glass in his hand and eyeing Tseng in the hopes of another.
“ A peace offering? Ha. You know me. It’ll take more than that, Tseng. ” 
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giftofthegodess · 4 years
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lifedxbt replied to your post
“@lifedxbt​ replied to your post “@lifedxbt​ replied to your post ...”
I didn't murder my own parents.
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“Of course you didn’t. Because having others shoulder the responsibility for your atrocities, shackling them with the mental burden, seems to be your prerogative.”
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cultivatxr · 3 years
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@lifedxbt​ whispered:  He really shouldn't, he shouldn't get involved with Aerith more than as a guarding presence. But he does dislike watching her struggle with nothing to alleviate her pain. He leaves it by her front door, a small box with her name in his delicate handwriting. It contains a few skewers of candied strawberries, a simple Wutai dessert. It's called tanghulu but she would not know that. It should make the most delightful noise when she bites into them; Tseng can't make them as well as the ones from his home but they are passable.
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He was doing it again. Blurring the lines between what was expected and what was needed; muddying the waters between company mandated protector and something she’d be more inclined to call friend. Regardless of the motive, the sentiment was appreciated when those leafy green eyes had locked on the box upon her doorstep some hours later. Like any gift, it had spurred a prickle of excitement, the childish exuberance of being able to unbox something mysterious and perhaps even coveted, still rife in Aerith’s bones.
Sinking down to sit on the cool stone of her doorstep, in the dim light of an autumn dawn, her lips curved skywards, fingertips grazing the inked depiction of her name. She knew that handwriting so very well, the familiar etch of pen to paper, so neat and precise in contrast to her own. That alone was gift enough; to be recognised as a person and not a job. To be Aerith; not the ancient. But a whole, fully fledged human being -  acknowledged and validated with a single, innocuous act.
Everything else was just a bonus; and what a sweet and delectable surprise it was. Unpicking the box to reveal its sugar laden contents, laughter parted rosy lips as her hand raised to her mouth, the stifled sound of enamoured glee so warm and sacred as it touched her at her very core. He knew her too well. Knew the secret weakness that would eternally bring joy back into her day, no matter how solemn, lost or forlorn she felt.
Raising a skewer, idly her fingers twirled it in thought, speculative, earnest, before she took the first addictive bite of her new found edible treasure. It’s the most satisfying crack she’s heard in a long while, the breaking of caramelised sugar against her teeth to reveal that deliciously juicy and equally saccharine centre. Aerith couldn’t hide the hum of approval, nor the positive edge it had suddenly ushered into the fledgling beginnings of her day.
She’d be sure to thank Tseng later; perhaps after a few more of these, when sufficiently hopped up on sugar and too content to care about rules, or obligations. He’d done a nice thing. A poignant and profound thing, if truth be told. And that alone; said far more than simple words ever could.
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