calamitysshatteredson

[calamitysshatteredson]

📂

Useless Headcanons | accepting but clearly very slow

The questionable nutrient block sometimes referred to as "SOLDIER food" was absolutely no one's favorite sustenance. It was questionably food at all, expected to be part of a standard diet despite its resemblance to a small grey brick. Nearly as dry and flavorless as one, save whatever the hell that aftertaste was, and...

Sephiroth had called it his own personal science experiment. Taking one block and simply placing it on a table, leaving it there unprotected. He expected it to start to smell after the first week, first month at least, to dry out, go rancid, change. Three years later, there had been no notable difference.

(Now whether or not there were any dares to take a bite of the thing is a separate and equally unsettling issue. Part of it may still be in the rubble of the Shinra building, in any case.)

[calamitysshatteredson]

📂

Useless Headcanons | accepting but clearly very slow

In his younger years, Sephiroth used to have a box of various three dimensional puzzles; some metal, some wood, things that were supposed to occupy the greater portion of an afternoon if not an entire week in order to find the trick to take them apart.

He happened to rather quickly satisfy both intelligence and strength assessments when he decided the fastest and easiest solution to "take them apart" was simply to break them, silencing any criticism by pointing out the vagueness of the rules he was given in the first place.

[calamitysshatteredson]

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

[calamitysshatteredson]

Sephiroth for Magic The Gathering

[calamitysshatteredson]

 -= Ninthnocturne =-

A friendly independent rp blog for Demyx/Myde from Kingdom hearts. 18+ Multiship/multiverse. Activity varies. Composed by Kitty. Promo image by the lovely @gravitasfatum

                                     “ In that shoreless ocean,        at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies,                                        free as waves, free from all bondage of words. “ 

SAIL AWAY BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE

Art kofi and my art bluesky and new! @kitkatz-art (my new art blog follows welcome <3)

[calamitysshatteredson]

PSA: PUTTING A HAND ON YOUR SHOULDER AS I TYPE THIS.

With the new year around the corner, ask yourself this. Have you ever;

Felt stressed out about logging into your rp account

Felt genuinely bad for not getting to a response

Stressed out over an event you weren't able to participate in

Felt like your self worth is intrinsically linked to this hobby

Gotten irrationally upset over the idea of people unfollowing / blocking you

Looked at the numbers of your follower count a bit too much

I am saying this with the kindest inflection imaginable;

You are taking roleplay / writing too seriously.

This is a hobby. I understand that it is a two way street. Without your partners, you wouldn't be able to roleplay. I get it. At the same time however, a lot of people seem to have lost the plot. You made your blog to write your characters with others. But it is still your blog. You are allowed to write as slowly and sporadically as you want, or have to, given that a lot of us do have jobs, coursework, and many other responsibilities to get to.

Breathe. Nobody hates you for not responding to blorbo rp within a 2 second timespan. Take weeks, months, whatever! Anybody who says otherwise is not worth being around. Be kind to yourself, just as you're kind to your rp partners. That is all. Keep your chin up, friend.

[calamitysshatteredson]

@projecth-aileth

His lack of reaction was... imperfect. Sephiroth tried to simply remain still, passive, observant. Tried not to offer anything to be interpreted or misinterpreted, watching motions that were clearly unpracticed, a reveal that bothered him more than it should have. Very human. Too human, too... similar.

He watched with what felt like a held breath for a long, long time. The look that seemed acknowledging, the attempt at communication -- if it was that, even -- struck something raw and deep. It could still be a monster, technically, a danger, and he and it and the world would be vastly better off if he simply took advantage of the weakness. It was weakness in him to consider empathy--

No. I don't believe that. I won't believe that. It made him an idiot, sure. Wanting to try to help was not... a weakness. Wanting to offer a kindness he knew very few might offer him if he...

Sephiroth didn't really let his mind wander that far, putting himself in that place. Too close. Too easy to understand. Still, he had to be practical about it, logical. Guiding. And, failing that... "Cold." He repeated, softly. He stood before an entity he could not ignore. That was the barest of basic facts. Terrifying and true.

Slowly, he began to shrug out of his ratty old secondhand (thirdhand?) coat. "Cold is... uncomfortable." There might be no understanding of the words or the information, but he'd watched people have entire conversations with cats who didn't even offer a small meow in response. Holding up the article of clothing, he tried to explain, "Comfort from cold might be found in the warmth of a covering. A hypothesis to test, at the very least?"

Absolutely ridiculous. And more ridiculous still was the slow step he took forward, then another. "Coat. Definition: an article of clothing intended to be protective and often warming. It can be draped over the shoulders." He didn't know, couldn't know, thoughts about lab coats, about what might have been observed before, but determination was growing.

Stupid. This is how a genius dies. He almost laughed at his own self-deprecating though process, but managed to roll it into another breath approaching closer. It gave him a better opportunity to observe, but maybe that wasn't for the best. Wounds needed treated, muscles weren't completely withered away but weren't in any way healthy either, and hydration..? He remembered field medicine. All of what he was seeing went well beyond his ability. "Would you like to take this coat? Or would you like me to help clothe you?" It would have been easy to cross the distance that remained between them with little effort, but he didn't. Not without a response, some permission. Something.

All of this was too stupid, too simple, too focused on one tiny thing that likely didn't even matter. And, he hoped, representing the opposite of former experiences. Something different. Changed.

The anticipation of what was to come kept the experiment in place, yet… nothing had. Not pain, harsh hands; the sear of syringes or cold bite of restraints. Just haze and growing anxiety, mute with resent- the noise, the stink of chemicals, blood, and… rot. A muffled voice leaked through, disrupting the spiral; ignorant of the words- simply noise. It was both new and unexpected in a way that had it blindly facing the source.

Only now noticing the helm had become loose; unsure if it was expected to be removed, careful hesitant hands reached up to lift the ring free. Gaze locked to the floor, despite so much still being scattered- empty… that ingrained conditioning remained. Avoid their gaze avoid punishment. Something about its eyes seemed to lead to random…corrections…

Powered down and broken, the device rested in its hands; chill air touching its face felt… wrong? …nice? unable to remember the last time its whole head was uncovered. Even in the dimness and near uniform grungy pallet- things were… so much more vivid than the helm allowed. Quietly taking in the clarity and details of the floor; distracted from the new red dripping down its face and sting from fresh burns by the temples from the control devices activation. Not understanding or recognizing the wreckage and filth under foot; piles of thick jagged…rust? spongy growths and green… tendrils. Living with nothing but the smooth hardness of metal and glass; the only variety came from the beasts and humans in the Drum- however brief their stay was.

Device still rested on upturned palms waiting. There was… a routine… someone…

His last statement seeming to get its attention, despite being the first thing truly heard; the word adding to the growing fragmented spiral. Too alert and nothing felt right; too much too little. Something was supposed to be happening it didn’t know what… ...coat? coats, White-coats… scientists and researchers and “Him” that slow boil of corruption and anger that was felt with each procedure resurged. Every time that burning black sludge was infused, every time it was taken apart, made to fight, broken, drowned…

That pull still there, shifting with his movement- dampening the slithering and stinging that had been intensifying since waking. Gleaming eyes suddenly meeting… oddly similar ones; sliding down the stranger, mask slipping slightly. Hidden inside, a still buried spark of curiosity that hadn’t been crushed yet was drawn to the unknown… person. Confused interest warring with conditioning and training as its fine tremors picked up again. A rising clash of overlapping, repeating emotions and memories- every time it had drowned, returned to the nothing- had all ripped away… starting again… over and over. All while another part tried to focus on the now… on the…

This… wasn’t the lab, his wasn’t a uniform it recognized…

This human… different and yet… intruder? handler?

what was his rank..

what was expected of it…

what…

Barely holding on, it came out without a thought; just as confused by the sound as the statement.

Less than a whisper, from an unused voice, “…c-old…?”

[calamitysshatteredson]

All the shine of a thousand spotlights All the stars we steal from the night sky Will never be enough

Fandomless OC Rhys Alexander Written by Kevin

Rules || About

[calamitysshatteredson]

One winged Angel. Shop | Patreon

[calamitysshatteredson]

your teens are for learning how to rp and your twenties are for the trial and error of rping around a rotating door of some of the most bugfuck unstable people you have ever met and your thirties are for finding contentment rping with somewhere between three and ten people who all came out of it stronger together 🙏

[calamitysshatteredson]

“MEN CRY NOT FOR THEMSELVES, BUT FOR THEIR COMRADES.”

Independent, canon divergent, Sephiroth rp blog Written by Kevin

Rules || Sephiroth

[calamitysshatteredson]

Upon closing the door behind him, he stared. For a much longer period of time than he thought he really ought to in order to get the gist of the situation. It was simple enough, wasn't it?

...Was it..? What sat on the kitchen counter in his quarters hadn't been there that morning, and he was distinctly certain of the extremely limited number of people who could have entered, left something, and then exited without disturbing anything else.

The object itself also had a ribbon with a large bow wrapped around it. Slender, sparkly, silver. Holding a bit of crinkled sparkly silver paper against a... bowl?

Pot. Planter. What filled the planter had initially been the surprise, had resulted in the pause necessary for Sephiroth to properly identify it: a plant. A cactus, if he wasn't mistaken, but... pink...? Vibrantly so. He hesitated to approach it for a long moment, as if his very presence might immediately cause it to wilt, but there was a envelope underneath.

Curiosity struck. Carefully sliding the envelope out from under the wrapping, he went about slowly, methodically removing the note from within. Angeal's handwriting, without a doubt: the plants was a moon cactus. Glancing from the note to the plant, he supposed he had no argument. They were good for "low-light conditions", apparently, for which his quarters would certainly qualify. There was also a watering schedule which started with "NOT NOW", then moved on to some ways to tell when the optimal watering points and amounts might be.

Again, Sephiroth looked at the plant, then the note. Sighing to himself, he went about the trouble of carefully untying the ribbon and removing the wrapping. "You have been sacrificed to a well-meaning idea." He told the plant, relocating it to the coffee table.

[calamitysshatteredson]

It’s Hard Being Patient When You Just Can’t Wait To Be King

════ ※ ════ • ════ ※ ════ Pride Laws || What’s Up? || Verses

Multi-Versed & Crossover Friendly

Please Read Pride Laws Before Interacting ════ ※ ════ • ════ ※ ════

Non-RP / Personal Blogs please do not reblog

[calamitysshatteredson]

"I didn't choose my path. Nor am I risking my life for it" "Sephiroth, you look thin."

"Depending on what happens, I may abandon Shinra"

An old sketch of Seph done last year.

Pale and colourless, he is the sadness itself.

[calamitysshatteredson]

18+ Semi-Selective Multimuse blog written and adored by WHISKEY!

CARRD

[calamitysshatteredson]

@magiichour [From here, because..??? Genuinely ?????]

He hadn't particularly been looking for a conversation partner, but since the usual moody blond was lacking presence here--

Ah, that wasn't entirely true. He hadn't alighted near this one due to any particular absence, hair color or otherwise. Knowledge in the Organization's business was vague at best, but matters of hearts, darkness and light were all very close to him. Separate beings born from one were a fascination.

(And if he was also intent on being a bother to someone different, that was neither here nor there.)

The sarcasm was very familiar, in any case. "I've been watching, you know." One gloved hand raised in a vague circular gesture. "Not everything. Bits and pieces from the shadows of Hollow-- Radiant Garden." That would take some getting used to again. "A good many spoke of what was happening. Worries for allies. Friends. How they spoke of one whose will was to dominate everyone else's. A man who would destroy. Remake. Everything." He trailed off for a moment, almost reminiscing.

Then his wings drew in closer, folding tightly along his legs and back. "I remembered wanting the same. Unable to achieve it, in this or any form, and yet-- Perhaps I have gained some strategic insight and decided I preferred existence." As if it were so simple a thing. So easy a realization to make, like the one that he didn't particularly need Cloud to exist on his own.

He trailed off again, regarding the individual beside him for a few silent seconds. "You are different. Villain by circumstance. I know... where you come from." And if he'd learned a bit about moving inbetween worlds within darkness to gain more insight, he wasn't prepared to mention it. "He fought well."

[calamitysshatteredson]

When a Character Feels Like They’re Losing Control

(Emotionally. Mentally. Internally. Completely.)

There’s a quiet kind of horror that comes with realizing you’re not okay and can’t fix it. When a character starts unraveling, it doesn’t always look like screaming or smashing things. Sometimes it’s the slow, subtle slipping of the reins...

╰ They overcompensate. Suddenly everything needs to be spotless, perfect, hyper-organized. Their planner is full, their schedule is packed, their smile is pinned on too tight. It’s not control, it’s panic dressed up in structure.

╰ They talk faster, louder or stop talking at all. They dominate conversations so they don’t have to think. Or they fall silent because words feel too risky. Either way, their voice is no longer safe territory.

╰ They get weird about small decisions. Choosing a sandwich becomes a full-body crisis. What should be easy isn’t, because nothing feels certain. It’s not about the sandwich. It’s about everything spinning too fast.

╰ They feel detached. Like they’re watching their life from a distance. They float above the room, disconnected from themselves, and laugh at things they don’t really find funny.

╰ They lash out in ways that don’t fit the moment. It’s never really about what triggered them. They explode over the dishes, or cry because someone asked if they’re okay. Their emotions are no longer matching the moment.

╰ They start avoiding mirrors. They don’t want to look at themselves, because they know. They know something’s off. They know their smile doesn’t reach their eyes. And they can’t face that truth yet.

╰ They apologize too much or not at all. They either spiral into guilt, overexplaining everything. Or they shut off and go stone-cold, too afraid that acknowledging the damage will make it real.

╰ They miss things. Conversations. Appointments. Easy tasks. Their brain is overwhelmed, trying to hold it together, and things slip through the cracks. And when they realize it, they panic more.

╰ They crave control but trust no one. They don’t delegate, don’t ask for help, because what if that help makes it worse? Trusting someone means letting go, and that’s the scariest thing of all right now.

╰ They feel like a passenger in their own life. There’s a version of them who used to be present. Who felt joy. Who wasn’t this… numb, terrified shell. And they don’t know where that person went, or how to bring them back.