#sephiroth week 2022

[fury-brand]

Set sail through the sun The end has begun

Sephiroth Week | Rebirth

#sephirothweek #sephiroth #ffvii #final fantasy vii #sephiroth week 2022 #ff7 #stuff i made #safer sephiroth

[kay-i]

Cosmic Safer∙Sephiroth & Aerith again because I can't stop thinking about them...

💫SephirothWeek 2022 💫

Art © Me

Characters © Square Co Ltd.

#aeriseph #Aeris Gainsborough #Aerith Gainsborough #Sephiroth #Safer Sephiroth #Sephiroth x Aerith #sephiroth ff7 #FF7 Sephiroth #ff7 aerith #Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #ff7 #FFVII #sephirothweek #sephiroth week 2022 #inktober #inktober2022

[altocat]

SEPHIROTH WEEK 2022 DAY 1

Prompt: Glory

Summary: A young soldier claims his legacy, his adulthood, his future. A creature of unyielding power and fire. And burning himself to cinders, little by little.

“One.” 

The silver streak of the Masamune touches the air, a gleaming ripple, the savage strike sinking hard and deep through bloodied, mangled flesh.

“Two.”

Fast feet, gaining, three at once. Three on top of him. Three more lives. 

He coils his body, the emerald storm of his eyes flashing through the smoky torrent of flame and shadow, arm flexing, the Masamune lurching again. 

“Three. Four. Five.”

He can smell it. Red and coppery, sticky against his long bangs, a splatter against his cheek and chin. But Sephiroth does not recoil against it, letting it paint his face, his gaze fixed ahead past the rim of the hill, the battlefield below alight with the sounds of battle. He can taste it through the ashes, raising his head as his feet all but float through the breeze, a silky, serrated trail of crimson with each pounding footfall. 

“It’s him!”

“He’s here!”

“Oh gods. Not him. Not now!”

He snarls at the voices, feral pupils in slits, a pale shadow against the milky surface of the moon, glaring down into the swell of bodies, insects at his feet. Eyes in the dark, panting, heavy breaths. Some run, as is natural. Some balk, twisting in place. And some advance regardless, armor glinting, blades raised in challenge.

“Six. Seven.”

Louder. The cocking of weapons, a smolder, whizzing somewhere past his ear. He turns his eyes to the blackened sky, an ugly inhale, somewhere between a moan and a roar. The head that rolls past his feet offers little in the way of confirmation, eyes glassy, red roots that stain the soil. Red on his face. Red everywhere.

“This is our land! Ours!”

“Demon!”

“Monster!”

“Get out!”

“Die!”

He closes his eyes. A ripple of motion, his legs charging through the spill of sensation and senselessness. The deceptively light gracefulness of his blade. Stale, hot air. And more red. So, so much red.

“Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.”

A heavy mass tackling him, trying to throw him down. A swing. A gasp.

“Thirteen.”

Three sets of wrathful eyes, hooked blades lashing, scorching. Limbs and teeth and streams, such pretty, patterned streams.

“Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.”

“BASTARD!” A final, frayed actor, his feeble weapon billowing through the clatter of dust and slaughter. And silenced, all too quickly.

“Seventeen.”

Screams now. Above. Below. Where do they come from? Himself? The wind? The night? Somewhere, something explodes, the rumble of debris scattered across the mud-soaked earth, raw and reeling. Momentarily, he loses his footing, the vibration sounding in his skull, ringing in his ears. He reflects, the shape of his expression unmoved, yet breaking, a haze, A maze. Amazing.

He feels as if he’s going mad.

Another explosion. The tumble of rock and steel skidding down the stretch of the hill. Hot breath in his ear. Reaching hands. Muffled voices.

“Seph--”

He whirls around, the Masamune glinting, his smile vicious, profound, stretching the corners of his mouth, sharpened white teeth that glisten against the smear of crimson that stains them. He tastes again, feels it on his tongue, tainted and fallen and foul. A life. He is tasting a life. And part of him wants to shiver. And part of him wants to throw up. 

And part of him wants more.

Angeal’s voice is gentle through the chaos, the sound of the cannon quickening against the tall rim above him. Heavy boots that slide closer through the spill of viscera, that reaching hand still held between them, seeking, nearing.

“Hey. You okay?”

Those vast, otherworldly eyes, the sparkling emeralds flaring, Masamune fixed, nearly raised. 

“Seph? Are you okay?”

 Eighteen. Eighteen, yes. Here. Now. Just another empty face, an empty voice. Eighteen. A polished collection, trophies against his bookshelf. Medals distributed. Empty titles, empty words. Shinra’s finest. A golden, glowing beacon of light and promise. The greatest of champions. The greatest of killers. Glorious. Undefeated. And counting on and on and on until--

Angeal’s hand gently closes on his arm and he remembers again.

“You’re looking off. They’ve taken the fort. It’s winding down now.”

Sephiroth says nothing, the heavy rise and fall of his chest sounding between them. A slow blink. Words that slide between his teeth and tongue, unuttered. 

“Come on,” Angeal coaxes, pulling him closer. “Geez, your face is all bloody. Genesis will piss himself at the sight of you. This was a tough one, huh?”

“An...Angeal.”

He allows himself to be pulled along, linked arms dragging him through the squelching mass surrounding them, up the incline and towards the waiting fleet across the field. He can make out the dull glint of Genesis’ auburn hair through the fading light, the heaviness of his limbs growing all the more pressing, his eyes fluttering, a soft release.

Angeal blinks and props him up against the broad stretch of his shoulder. “Easy there.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re tired.”

“I never get tired.”

“Well, you are now. Come on. Almost there.”

He jerks forward, pushing Angeal aside, a toss of dampened silver bangs and a low grunt. And the beginnings of a growl when Angeal only moves back into place again. The larger boy only shakes his head, an exasperated snort somewhere between amusement and pity.

“Just because you’re a big famous war hero doesn’t mean you’re not limping right now. Don’t be stubborn. You probably breathed a lot of smoke. Hell, I’m surprised you can still stand. Guess with you, I should know better. You really are something else.”

The clouds roll in, the rise of victorious voices clinging to the hot evening wind. He can hear it now, dull patches and tatters against the thick throbbing pulse of his thoughts. A rustle of bats overhead, scouring through the blackened trees in search of sweeter, safer shelters. The sounding of the cannon again, not in combat, but in triumph.

And his face. Hot and sticky.

And his mind, wandering. And tangled. And hollow.

You really are something else.

Red that trickles into his eye, down his lips. Red that beads in his dark lashes, bitter scarlet tears down his cheeks.

Eighteen. He is eighteen years old today.

And he feels nothing at all.

“Yes,” he replies at length, a coughing, cracking laugh. “Yes. I am.”

#Sephcanons #Sephiroth #Angeal hewley #Genesis rhapsodos #Sephiroth week 2022 #ffvii #crisis Core #ff7 #final fantasy 7

[chofitia]

If you got everything In the world you ever wanted Would it then be When we’d finally see your smile?

@week-of-silver-winds Day 4: Free Day

[Caption: A pair of gifs featuring Sephiroth paired with lyrics to “Why” by Iida Ayaka 1. A young Sephiroth in front of a wall of fire with the line 世界の全てを手にしたとしても 2. An older Sephiroth looking at the sky with the line それがあなたの幸せなの？End caption.]

#chofitia does edits #sephiroth #sephirothweek #sephiroth week 2022 #this looks like some whack taisho advertisement #though I guess early showa would be more appropriate #since you know

[meteorstricken]

Sephiroth Week, Day 1 Prompt: Glory

"Inside and Out"

All sentient beings have an inner and outer world. The outer world is self-explanatory—the face or faces one might put on for all others to see, some more or less performative than others. The inner world is that which is not seen, comprised of secrets, ruminations, and dreams.

And honesty. The inner world is honest; often brutally so.

Shinra had touted Sephiroth as the glory of its fighting force since the day they’d set him upon a battlefield in Wutai. His path was the most burnt and bloody of any SOLDIER operative despite his younger than average age, with a body count high enough to compete with that of a whole battalion. That, they had lifted up as glory. And if glory was synonymous with mere accomplishment…well, he could never argue that he’d accomplished what they wanted of him.

He’d performed the part he’d been assigned to completion and returned alive.

But on that day—the day of his return— he’d started to hear their thoughts. The Turks and the rank-and-file military, all open and reading themselves to him as if speaking pointlessly into the ether. At first, he’d discounted it as a manifestation of shellshock. Before boarding the helicopter bound for Midgar, he’d been debriefed on the possible lingering after-effects that combat might have on his mind, and to watch out for them. He’d long been keen to the moods of those around him, but mind-reading was the sort of fanciful topic that could potentially inspire Professor Hojo to lash out. In short, it was nothing Sephiroth would be reporting to anyone no matter how real or disturbing it felt. It wasn’t worth the possible repercussions.

Silently, trying to drown out the pitying and horrified unspoken murmurs surrounding him on the flight, Sephiroth then considered the uncanny similarity between the potential mental aftermath of war and how he’d reacted when he was much smaller to some of Professor Hojo’s impromptu testing ideas, namely those involving protracted sleep, sustenance, and sensory deprivation. His memory of those weeks was distorted, but he did remember that the company had ultimately reeled Hojo in, citing excess risk to an irreplaceable asset. In the weeks following, the company assigned him a psychologist who was supposedly to help him process those experiences. She resigned in protest after only two weeks, leaving a letter that condemned at length the untenable expectation of treating a traumatized child without first removing him from an ongoing source of harm.  

A numb and errant thought about what might have happened if he’d chosen to disappear into the jungles of Wutai played out in his head, cutting his way through the combat and the greenery and wildlife to the opposite edge, into the mountains. The sight of crashing ocean waves soon played out on the back of his eyes—the salty scent of the water, the whining cries of seagulls, and the complete absence of a way to run any further than that.

“What in the hell is the world coming to? No way this kid’s the minimum enlistment age, but he’s getting VIP treatment. As soon as I can, I’m getting out,” the pilot thought to himself. And then he said, “So kid, where are you from?”

Sephiroth shifted uncomfortably. It was such a rote and harmless question, but it had no certain answer for him; not like it might with anyone else. He’d lived in Midgar all his life that he could remember, but there had always existed a wall between what of his life he could recall, and what he could not. Prior to about four years of age, he drew a blank.

“Midgar,” he answered plainly.

“Yeah? Lots of people with lots of stories from there. Stories that maybe didn’t start there, but that first bit isn’t always so important. This your first tour of duty?”

“It is.”

“Shit, shit, shit…How old is he? Can’t be a day older than thirteen. What in ever-loving fuck is Shinra on these days?” he ranted in his mind before asking aloud, “How old are you anyway? Your parents must’ve thrown a fit when you joined up.”

The Turk in the copilot’s seat clapped him hard on the back before Sephiroth could concoct a reasonable non-answer. “Enough questions, dumbass. Don’t make this a more eventful trip than it needs to be.”

“Ow! What in the ever-loving hell was that for?” the pilot yelped. “You want us to crash?”

“Wutai tree spider. They’re not large or aggressive, but the bite is usually lethal within an hour. We’re about two hours out from Midgar, so no,” the Turk coolly lied, making a discrete show of wiping the palm of his hand.

Sephiroth nodded slightly, pretending to agree with the Turk, but the pilot had guessed correctly. He’d be turning fourteen in about three months. Was that glorious? He’d served the company’s purpose much sooner than his peers, most of whom were either enrolled in Junon’s military academy or not yet associated with Shinra. Some would call it impressive. Others—especially Hojo—probably thought of it as efficient and the byproduct of his own ingenuity on some level.

But he’d always been different and had always been treated differently. One day, he’d figure out why. He’d listen closely when he had to be around Professor Hojo, and the man would eventually betray the truth, or if not the truth, then a source where he might find it—names of more upstanding scientists or places other that might contain evidence.

In the meantime, until he was certain of enough, he’d perform as the company willed—a paragon of competent strategy, pristine image, and merciless slaughter.

Glorious, until he had what he needed to decide what that ought to mean for himself.

#sephirothweek #sephiroth #ffvii #sephiroth week 2022 #Day 1 #Will post to Ao3 if I decide it's good enough after all 7 days. #Decided to participate at the last minute so we'll see... #my fics

[up-sideand-down]

Day 6: Nemesis

Summary: Sephiroth only has one weakness, and ShinRa marketing is making him face it

#sephirothweek #sephiroth week 2022 #sephiroth #angeal hewley #zack fair #genesis rhapsodos #cloud strife #partners AU

[zimithrus1]

For SephWeek! Day 1: Glory 😊

#Sephiroth week 2022 #sephiroth #ffvii #crisis core #zimiwritez #my writing #I'm trying something new for a change! Gonna try to post an entry for the whole week!

[errantnight]

“This is all you were made to be, this is all you ever were, this is what you will become.”

#time travel sephiroth #sephiroth #sephiroth week 2022 #sephweek2022

[eiko82]

Day 4: Passion & Fated Lovers 

 "I would dance with you to the end of the galaxy."

#AeriSeph #aeriseph week #aeriseph week 2022 #Aerith x Sephiroth #Aerith Gainsborough #Sephiroth #custom nendoroid #final fantasy nendoroid #ffvii #ff7 #dancing

[julytheartist]

💐Aeriseph Week☄

Day 2: Contrast

✨🟢⚫✨

#aeriseph #aeriseph week #aeriseph week 2022 #aerith gainsborough #sephiroth

[crisisemblem]

Eleven Days

The soft jingle of the shop door opening snapped Aerith out of her lovely train of thought. “Welcome to Verdant Lush!” She called over her shoulder in a sing-song voice as she quickly ducked behind the register to dispose of her gloves from tending the ivy. When her pleasant greeting didn’t receive a response, she turned back around to face the front of the shop, wondering if she’d imagined the chime of the bell.

He stood there somewhat awkwardly in front of the door, shuffling one leg behind the other and fidgeting with the tie of the black apron he wore. Long silver hair was tied back in a loose bun, letting long bangs fall freely; beautifully toned arms and a form-fitting black T-shirt, black baggy jeans, and black boots were all dusted with patches of what Aerith could only assume was white flour as she stepped closer to him. The man shifted his weight in place, not moving from his spot on the faux leather welcome mat and not quite looking up to meet her eyes before saying, “Hello.”

His voice was deep, silky, and exactly what she should have expected from such a tall and seemingly brooding individual. Aerith swallowed. Whoever this guy was, whatever he wanted — he was hot.

Here’s a silly little modern AU for AeriSeph week! Read the rest on AO3 <3

#aeriseph #aeriseph week 2022 #aerith gainsborough #sephiroth #ff7 fanfic #my first modern au!

[kay-i]

💫SephirothWeek 2022 - Cosmos (and the most important Planet🌏) 🖤inktober 2022 - Tempting🤍

Art © Me

Safer Sephiroth & Aerith © Square Co Ltd.

Based on photo.

#aeriseph #Aeris Gainsborough #Aerith Gainsborough #ff7 aerith #Sephiroth #sephiroth ff7 #Safer Sephiroth #Sephiroth x Aerith #FF7 Sephiroth #Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #ff7 #FFVII #sephirothweek #sephiroth week 2022 #inktober #inktober2022

[altocat]

SEPHIROTH WEEK DAY 6

Prompt: Nemesis

Summary: There was a boy. There was a house. There was a monster.

The crackling heat explodes through the darkness, the smoldering pull of heavy footfalls through the cinders, frantic and seeking, swallowing the shadows.

Cloud’s head is spinning, sick with smoke, tasting the hot breeze, the tangled hum of the fierce, rushing air around him. He can feel his teeth chattering, an involuntary shiver that collides perplexingly against his senses, a weak moan escaping him, head jerking, pupils wide. 

He doesn’t understand. How did this happened? WHAT happened? The night had been still and cool. Familiar in its nostalgia. His old home, the quiet cobbled streets, old faces he hoped did not recognize him beneath the heavy weight of his helmet. Guard duty had been deceptively easy tonight, watching the gloomy serenity of his surroundings through blue, unblinking eyes, thinking of Tifa, of his future, of his past.

“SOLDIER is a den of monsters.”

And Zack’s words, so solemn, so nakedly defeated. Cloud had wondered what he’d meant, where the weight of his friend’s fatigue had been directed. So much had happened. And so much still to come. 

And Cloud is afraid.

Even more so now, presently, as he pants and sprints through the wreckage, the rippling flames kissing the blackness as the sound of screams ring and thunder overhead. His thoughts clatter, the singular, desperate purpose beating into his ears in a pounding pulse, his eyes watering. 

He mustn’t cry. Not here. He can’t be weak now. He’s ALWAYS so, so weak. He knows it’s why they don’t like him, why they never have. But he can’t let himself fall behind. He has to move. He has to go--

“Home!” He cries out reflexively, feet gobbling down the path, a river of sparks beneath his boots. 

Somewhere, a man cries out, a series of pleading whimpers, the resounding silence interrupted only by the heavy thud of splintering wood. Cloud balks, his small body twisting, nearly stumbling back. For a moment, he thinks he saw something, a lithe black shape bounding between the flames, a glinting line of something sharp and bloodied carving through the inferno. 

Another cry, farther ahead now, the distinct wail of a child. Then silence again, sickly and mocking. Cloud doesn’t know what it means, the incongruity of his situation meeting him, sliding down his spine. Monsters. A monster attack. Or a dragon. Like the one he’d seen before, back when they were still in the truck. It feels like seasons ago. 

Zack had told him that something was wrong. And he had known something was wrong. There was something off, something in the air. Something that waited in the wings, cold and calculating and terrifying. It hung over the black rim of the mountain, looming, a silent, angry god.

Or goddess.

Cloud wonders if the smoke is getting to him. It’s so hard to think now. He has to keep moving. Even as he feels his thoughts growing dizzier by the moment, his balance wobbling, the fatigued struggle of his breathing fighting for air, for clarity, for life.

Tifa. Is she okay? Is she someplace safe? Could he protect her if he found her?

But then...could he even protect himself?

Another reflexive moistness in his eyes, his hand coming up to furiously wipe away the welling fear and helplessness. He’ll look for Tifa next. First, he just has to get where he needs to be. He has to tend to the more pressing danger.

But by the time he arrives, it’s already too late.

The black smoke drifts high above him, the crimson wreckage bursting like the broken wail of some crumbling, titanic beast. The rattle of stars above him, pale and cold, the bloodied orb of the moon high between the clouds, his scream lost, cracking through the blaze.

“MOM!”

He charges forward, desperate, reeling, hot tears scorching down his cheeks, nose running, spittle flying. He reaches through the conflagration, anguished, all but colliding with the smoking rustle of wind and fire.

“MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?! MOM!”

He is on the ground before he has time to react, a hard, painful descent, his leg caught between a heavy layer of wood and brick, the pain slicing up his leg, his cry broken between a convulsing sob of horror and desperation. And still he screams for her, coughing, inches from the doorway but unable to reach, his golden hair flat and plastered to his sweating skin, his blue eyes wild.

He needs to get inside. He needs to find her. He needs to SAVE her!

“MOM! MO--”

But when the green eyes glitter through the fire, he feels the words die in his throat. 

That lithe black shape again. The harsh glint of something sliding up through the smog, graceful and elegant, long, hooked fingers, the tumble of smooth silken silver hair. Green. The deepest, starkest green Cloud has ever known. Burning and beautiful, flecked with Mako, feathered by long dark lashes, unblinking, focused.

And full of madness.

Cloud feels himself choking, sliding back, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He wants to gasp, his mind struggling for explanation, for logic. A soundless void, mindless, drifting. Those wide pink lips, now stretched, a gleam of sharp white teeth, the dripping mask of blood painting the ridged crease of an angular ivory cheek. Black pupils, catlike, shifting to narrow, feral slits, the light gone from them, glassy, rigidly single-minded. Staring at him.

His hero. His beloved, commanding, eternal hero. Larger than life. That noble face, radiant as the stars, pure and perfect, angelic. How he’d stared for hours at his pictures, his posters. The first spark of inspiration that had ignited his heart. That first brush of curiosity and wonder. That first...tempestuous bit of shame on those squirming, awkward evenings that had encompassed the lonely, confusing years of his early adolescence, coating his hands beneath the sheets, a dirty secret that made Cloud shiver...and wonder.

And now here before him, enormous, alight. And dripping. Dripping. Dripping.

With blood.

“S...Sephiroth...”

Cloud stares at the sword, at the heavy strength that pools in each broad, dangerous arm, the reflexive rise and fall of that vast, heavy chest. Sephiroth’s head is slightly tilted, his smile vague, those unfathomable eyes glazed, still not blinking. He regards the boy, an unhurried pace closer, the trail of his blade slithering across the hot gravel at his feet, bloody footsteps with each fluid pace.

“Are you...lost?”

The tears burn harder than ever, rolling down his cheeks in rivers, staring at Sephiroth’s bloodied sword, the whine of protest tingling against his lips. No. Nonononono...

“Are you lost, little one?”

No. It can’t be. It can’t be real. It can’t--

“Have you...” A delicious, disjointed pause, that smooth, rich voice low and rumbling. So beautiful. So deranged. And so full of malice. “...lost your mother?”

“You...you can’t....not you...”

That heavy shadow upon him now, swallowing him, his body paralyzed, locked on the ground, drowning in his own tears and snot. Sephiroth regards him, somewhere between a meal and a stranger, head still cocked, a sweet, almost sleepy look to his contemplating expression. A child at play.

“You were my hero. You were my...”

“Shhhhh...” 

And that great shape stooping down, caressing his face in bloodied black-gloved hands, smearing his skin, cradling him close, the thick coppery stench reeking in his clogged nostrils. He wants to throw up. Wants to withdraw from those sticky, stroking fingers, painting long red lines and swirls across his face, the hungry glare of its fevered gaze engulfing him. 

“It will all be over soon.”

“No....Mom....Mom.....”

“You have no mother. You never did.”

“No...”

“It was all...a lie...An experiment. You were never wanted. You’re all alone.”

“No...!”

The cool touch of those lips to his bloodied forehead, black fingers tangling and twisting into his hair. And despite the heat, despite the unrelenting revulsion that blazes in his heart, Cloud is painfully aware that he will never be warm ever again. Not now. Not here. Not ever.

He closes his eyes and grits his teeth. 

“You,” the monster purrs, hot breath against his skin, pulling away from him, its immense form blocking the path of the moon, receding elsewhere, up towards the wide path of the mountains, seeking its treasure, following the sacred call of things beyond Cloud’s hearing. “Can’t go home.”

“Sephiroth....”

“It’s too late.”

All he knows is hate. All he knows is fear. And rage. And futility. So weak. So, so weak.

“You can never go home. Never.”

#sephiroth #cloud strife #Sephiroth week 2022 #ffvii #ff7 #sefikura #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sorry i'm late lol #writing

[naphyla]

Join Shinra! Now Recruiting!

For Sephiroth Week 2022 (Prompt: Glory)

Shinra probably put Sephiroth on every promotion and recruitment poster they ever had because who could possibly resist???

#Sephiroth #Final Fantasy 7 #ff7 #sephirothweek #my art

[week-of-silver-winds]

Hello again, fellow Sephiroth fans! Starting October 23rd until October 29th, the 6th and 2022 version of Sephiroth Appreciation Week will be held. It’ll be a time to share your love for Sephiroth in any way you can (as in: art, fic, graphics, gifs, fanmixes and so on!) in the tag #sephirothweek.

The list of prompts follows, below. You’re free to be as creative with those as you can, (while always tagging sensitive content properly and minding the site’s rules) as you are also free to start working on your entries as soon as you wish, but please don’t forget to post them in the right date. (Delays are fine, but only up to 5 days after the 29th.)

Oct. 23 || Day 1. Glory

Oct. 24 || Day 2. Friendship

Oct. 25 || Day 3. Cosmos

Oct. 26 || Day 4. Free Day

Oct. 27 || Day 5. Monster

Oct. 28 || Day 6. Nemesis

Oct. 29 || Day 7. Rebirth

Please remember to include the week’s tag within the first 5 tags or else your work might end up unable to be found. (For the same reason, don’t separate the words of the #sephirothweek tag with spaces or dashes.) For ease of finding, it’s also high recommended to tag this blog just to be safe as Tumblr’s tag system sometimes eats posts! Anything containing Character/Ship/Voice Actor/etc Hate WILL NOT be allowed, so avoid including those in your entries, as well as reposted/stolen work. Feel free to leave a message either here or over at Twitter if you have any questions.

If for some reason you’re still missed somehow, also feel free to message with a link to your work! We all know how wonky this blue site can be at times.

And if your work is too mature for this platform and you’re afraid of it not showing up or if you want to participate elsewhere, here’s the reminder that we have a TWITTER for the event! We also have an AO3 COLLECTION! Feel free to join wherever it feels best for you. For extra details, please read the GUIDELINES.

May it be a fun event for everyone!

#sephiroth #ff7 #FF7 Remake #FF7 Rebirth #crisis core reunion #sephirothweek #info #prompts

[up-sideand-down]

Day 3: Cosmos

Summary: Sephiroth has a dream, and he's determined to make it happen

#sephirothweek #sephiroth week 2022 #sephiroth #cid highwind #shera #a silly au idea #of seph becoming an astronaut