//seeing @meteor-shots on the dash is making me fangirl a lil bit
-Whumptober prompt day 05-
On the Run
I miss some Crisis Core's Tseng and Zack, my babies🥺
Young Tseng
Tribute to my favourite (and the best) character of FF7. (With tseng, rufus and the turks)
Elena. ❤🔫👔
i broke young, you can see it in my eyes. you can tell by the way i carry myself that i grew up too fast.
ooc;
so i recently acquired the game data for ffvii:re after much hairpulling and now i can poke around in the files at my leisure and extract what i want when i want…a number of interesting things are to be found there, several i noticed at first glance were relating to the naming conventions used for character data
specifically, pertaining to tseng there was this
many fans have commented about how tseng seems to look exactly the same in the flashback as in present, about how ageless he must be since the new ultimania places him at thirty. but he isn’t listed as the oft theorized fifteen in this model name, he is listed as nineteen (similarly the cowgirl tifa model has her age listed at thirteen, which seems to imply either discrepancies on an internal development level regarding the chronology or just that the remake uses a floating timeline period)
initially, i assumed this might be the same model we see in the cutscene, identical to the regular model. but it isn’t. they actually have a young tseng model in the game data that they didn’t even use in the game, and here he is
he shares almost all the features of standard tseng aside from the new hair mesh, but it is still an interesting bit of unseen yet existing content. why was he cut? was it due to technical implementation issues or did they decide to just go a different direction? was this an error and it is possible he will be patched into future updates? are the seemingly incorrect ages listed on so many of the character models conclusive proof that remake takes place in a floating timeline or is sqex just confused? we may never know, but it is fun to analyze
T U R K S in the new Final Fantasy VII Remake Tokyo Game Show 2019 Trailer
At the temple of the ancients
I need everyone to stop what they’re doing and look at this:
This is the gift I received in the 2019 FF7 Fanworks Exchange, created by the magnificent and inimitable @the–calamity. Any words I might add would simply be so much clutter around its perfection. Isn’t it beautiful? It makes my heart hurt.
The final pair in the set! I don’t think I’ve drawn either of these two in like 12 years. Sorry, Turk friends.
ツォンさん
Final Fantasy VII Remake | Aerith Gainsborough
modeoheim
If ur I willing I wanna hear ur oddly specific nsfw headcanons of Tseng
- He can’t pronounce “enchilada”
- He’s a horrible speller, but spell check has saved his life. Elena keeps clowning him because he can’t spell anything longer than three syllables without butchering it
- He thinks he has the best hair out of everyone he knows, and he’s right
- He doesn’t actually know how to fly a helicopter. He’s just been winging it this entire time and nobody has really died yet
- Cloud is his favorite twink, but he won’t admit that
- He has a peanut allergy
warofthebeasts
“Oh.” How distant he sounds. How distant he is.
His own memories are in pieces, fragments and bits arranged in such a way that they make up something difficult to parse. There are pieces missing, as well, for the mind can only contain a finite amount before it must replace something with another.
What he remembers are events tainted. The worst of the worst, as the human mind prefers, even if his human mind is not so human anymore. The firsts are his first sword, his first gun, his first kill, his first battle, his first war, his first defeat, his first victory. While other children celebrated such mundane milestones, Sephiroth celebrated the milestones of a soldier.
The eyes, so close to the color of Mako, close again. Briefly, the jaw beneath the touch tenses, but then it goes slack again with a sigh. There was a brief moment of tension, of irritability at nothing except the anticipation that Tseng will be Tseng and lock him out. It is a habit that Tseng has always had, a habit that had lead them here, to this stopping and starting and dancing around one another on tiptoes and eggshells.
“Kintsugi…” the menace repeats, mind puzzling over the why of the subject. The term is a familiar one, but the connection is not entirely there. Connections are difficult to forge these days. Everything is so abstract, his mind unable to draw a line between one thing and another thing. “Repairing broken pottery with gold, isn’t it?” he offers with the surety that if he is wrong, he is at least somewhere in the correct vein. A leg lifts and folds, bare foot pressed into the couch’s cushion, knee pointed towards the ceiling.
“What about it?” An effort offered to continue the conversation.
Yes, Tseng celebrated every small, every mundane milestone. Not because he was overly sentimental, but to spite his profession as a Turk. If he had been around Sephiroth, he would have celebrated his too. Stealing those moments for himself and holding onto some semblance of normalcy kept his feet grounded and head clear – sunshine streaming through beams, a patch of flowers in the church, the girl with grit trapped beneath her fingernails. Most importantly, it kept him somewhat human.
Tseng always was and still is a model Turk, on paper. But it takes a certain kind of Turk to fail to capture a ‘specimen’ for years. Or to look away while a person who considers him an ally is carted away and experimented on. And it takes an especially heartless kind of bastard to accept letters for 4 years from the would-be ‘specimen’ to the test subject while pretending to be oblivious.
Tseng has many facets and sharp edges, and it’s impossible to see all of him at once, but at least all the cracks have been smoothed over. Whatever kind of person he is, or isn’t, he’s fine with it. He doesn’t think the same can be said for Sephiroth.
“Yes,” Tseng says. But as always, subtleties are lost on Sephiroth. It shouldn’t come as a surprise then, really. But maybe Tseng has become too accustomed to Elena; speaking on his behalf before he has finished thinking, pulling words out and placing them in a line before he can stitch them together coherently in his head. She has a knack for it, filling in his silences, and Sephiroth does not. It isn’t his fault they are the way they are.
“The ideology behind it is that nothing is beyond repair.” Whether he’s skating on thin ice or not can only be gauged by his fingertips, which continue to slowly skim across cool skin until they come to rest along Sephiroth’s hairline. If the touch is unwanted, a simple jerk of the head will be enough shake him off. But until then, Tseng will persevere. Better this, than the space between them.
“No matter how broken, you can pick up the pieces and start over.” He swallows, gaze still fixed on the ceiling and wonders if someone as shattered as Sephiroth can ever be mended. Or if he will even try. Or if he even wants to try. A sigh leaves his lips followed by, “This is silly.”