comment_fic | Thursday: Movie Titles

Hello, everyone. I’m

nagi_schwarz and your host for the week. Today's theme is Movie Titles! Prompts can be titles of individual films, documentaries, series, short films, animated or live action.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here. Unfortunately, DW doesn’t have a cut tag, so use your best judgment when it comes to spoilers.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Any, Any, Ditto (2022)
+ Any, Any, Parasite (2019)
+ Any, Any, Decibel (2022)

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2024 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? You can use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community. Fret not, DW members; we are working on a way to search through old entries for prompts for you! As of right now, the best way to search for a lonely prompt on DW is to search the community’s archive, which can be found [[HERE]].

While the use of LJ's advanced search and DW’s archive are options, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching in the future.

As a friendly reminder about our schedule, Lonely Prompts and sharing completed fills are encouraged on Sundays, while new themes and prompts are posted on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Saturdays are a Free for All day. We'll share our posts on DW and LJ for everyone's convenience. Keep an eye out for notifications!

If you have a Dreamwidth account and would feel more comfortable participating there, please feel free to do so…and spread the word! comment_fic

tag=movie titles

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, Any, Ditto (2022)

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, Any, Parasite (2019)

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, Any, Decibel (2022)

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, My Brilliant Life (2014)

From:

nagi_schwarz

Any, any, The Moon (2023)

From:

smallhobbit

Ros and Jo were looking again at the surveillance photos which they had taken a couple of days earlier. While they had been waiting for something to happen, Ros had used the opportunity to snap some photos of the moon, which had seemed particularly large that night.

Lucas walked past and glanced at the photos, and then said, “It was a beautiful moon that night, wasn’t it?” Having picked up the papers he wanted, he returned to Harry’s office, totally unaware of the bemused looks Ros and Jo were giving him.

Adam laughed. “You never know what’s going on inside the furry brain. If you ask him about it, he’ll just look confused and repeat that the moon was beautiful. It’s just bizarre, and even Lucas can’t explain what transfers between the human and vulpine minds.”

From:

nagi_schwarz

I love that Ros snapped some artsy photos of the moon. Of course Lucas likes the moon. Thank you so much for the fill!

From:

smallhobbit

Thank you - I'm very pleased you liked it. It was a very beautiful moon that night :)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, The Boy Who Could Fly (1986)

From:

nagi_schwarz

“Tell me the story,” Minhyuk’s mother said as she sawed through the base of one of his wings, “about the boy who could fly.”

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut and hung onto the barre, panting, agonized, feeling blood drip down his back. “His father gave him wings.”

His mother wrenched out a fistful of primaries.

Minhyuk bit back a sob.

“The story,” his mother bit out, and the blade resumed

“H-his father gave him wings, and he could fly.”

Minhyuk swallowed a scream as the blade hit bone.

“And?” his mother demanded.

“But he flew too close to the sun.” Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing and panting — and seeing his brothers pinwheeling out of the sky like a pair of dropped sycamore seeds.

“Tell me the rest of the story!” his mother screamed, and slammed the blade into his other wing.

Minhyuk could only shudder and cry.

“Tell me!”

“He flew too c-close to the sun and — and he f-fell.”

Blood poured down Minhyuk’s back.

Spilling every single drop of his blood would still never repay the loss he had caused, Minseok and Minho lost to hunters’ harpoons as the three of them chased the sunset.

Minhyuk felt his second wing fall free, and he collapsed, unconscious from loss.

Blood loss.

The loss of his wings.

The loss of two thirds of himself.

*

Biological anthropologists posited that humans felt more affinity to those closely genetically related to them, hence parents caring more for their own children than other children, and children caring more for their own siblings than their friends.

The closest bond, then, was between identical twins.

The worst loss a human could experience was the loss of an identical twin.

Minhyuk and his brothers had been literally one in a million: identical triplets.

Now two of them were gone.

Minhyuk’s mother’s grief was incalculable.

Minhyuk had no grief. He had no tears.

He had — nothing.

When his mother sent him away, he went willingly. Living in the trainee dorms with other boys, subjecting himself to the grueling training, was his punishment. He was surrounded by boys who could have been his best friends, his brothers —

But they were never brothers.

The older ones were never allowed closer than hyungnim, though he kept as many as he could at sunbaenim.
And he never allowed the younger ones that closeness either.

Just call me sunbaenim too.

He could never repay the loss his mother had suffered. But he could pay in other ways, with his body (his body forever tethered to the ground, because flying was forbidden, he was the boy who could fly no more). If he became famous enough, he could be untouchable.

If he became famous enough, his mother could use the money he earned to try, endlessly, to buy happiness.

You are never allowed to fly, she’d told Minhyuk, Minseok, and Minho over and over again.

The hunters will come for you. They want your wings. Your feathers are magical. They will take all your feathers, and they will leave you for dead.

Minhyuk and his mother hadn’t had anything to bury, after the hunters had caught his brothers.

Minhyuk, as the oldest, had had one duty: to protect his brothers.

Those were the two rules that governed his life. Protect your brothers. Do not fly.

Now his brothers were gone, and a single rule remained.

*

“Minhyuk-ah,” Manager Noh said, pulling him aside after their media coach dismissed them for a food break.

Minhyuk bowed. “Manager-nim?”

“Now that you’ve been selected for the debut team, you can relax a little, you know? You don’t have to compete against anyone anymore. You’ve made it. You have to focus on merging with the others and creating unity.”

Minhyuk bobbed his head. “Yes, Manager-nim. Bin-sunbaenim and I dance very well together.”

Manager Noh sighed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You and Binnie have trained together for going on seven years now. You can call him hyung. He says he’s asked you to a bunch of times. Fans like it when team members are close. Binnie and Dongminnie have even agreed to treat each other as same-age friends since they’re the same grade in school.”

Minhyuk resisted the urge to point out that they were the same age because they were born in the same year under the lunar calendar.

“You have to start calling the older boys hyung, and you have to let Sanha call you hyung too.”

Minhyuk bit his lip. The last two people to have ever called him hyung were —

Hyung! Save me!

Hyung! Get away! Fly faster!

“Minhyuk-ah? Do you understand me?”

Minhyuk swallowed down the memory of blades in his flesh and blood running down his back and the tearing of feathers. “Yes, Manager-nim. I understand.”

*

Words were dangerous.

Words were powerful.

Words were like magic.

Speak something aloud, and it would come true.

Flying is fun.

We were born to fly. It’s why we have wings.

Just once won’t hurt, right? More than just stupid circles around the attic, I mean. Outside. Under the sun. Like the birds.

“Bin-hyung,” Minhyuk said, and saw Bin wheel around in surprise, eyes wide. “Want me to make some ramyeon? For the both of us.”

And then Bin smiled, warm and sweet and trusting. “Sure. That would be great.”

Minhyuk turned away from that smile, warm like the sun and just as dangerous, and reached for the cupboard where they kept all the noodles. “One egg or two?”

“Two,” Bin said. “Because —”

“You don’t like egg yolk. I remember.”

Bin’s fond pat on the head should have been condescending, but his hand was warm as well — like the sun.

*

Late nights and early mornings, hours in the practice room steaming the mirrors with their collective exertion, sleeping on floors in group dressing rooms backstage at music shows, faces aching from endless smiles, each struggle took their individual threads and wound them tighter and tighter till they were one, an unbreakable red cord, bound as friends — and brothers.

Bin-hyung, show me that dance move again?

Dongmin-hyung, can you help me with my math homework again?

Minhyukie-hyung, help me write this essay for literature class. You had Miss Han last year, right?

We come as one, they sang.

The lift hovered over the stage, descending slowly, as thousands of fans screamed and chanted.

Only the lift suddenly jolted and shuddered and ground to a halt.

Sanha lost his balance.

He fell.

He plummeted toward the stage.

Minhyuk was bound by two rules.

Protect your brothers.

Do not fly.

Sanha was his little brother.

Minhyuk leaped off the rise, ignoring the others’ shouts behind him.

In a terrible tearing of cloth and flesh, in an explosion of feathers and blood, he spread his wings, wings that hadn’t even left scars when they were cut away in a fruitless act of punishment.

Minhyuk spread his wings, and he flew, and he soared, and he caught Sanha, and together, they drifted downward.

Sanha clung to him, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

The entire stadium was silent, staring at his wings.

Even the music cut off.

Minhyuk and Sanha landed on the stage, and Minhyuk set Sanha on his feet.

Sanha opened his eyes, blinking. “Hyung? What —?”

“Be safe,” Minhyuk said, and security surged out from the shadows.

Hands grabbed him, dragged him off the stage.

“Hyung!” Sanha shouted after him. “Get away from him!”

And then there was a flurry of flashing sequins and rhinestones, and hands grabbing, and fists flying, and then — then Minhyuk was in the circle of his brothers’ arms as they all held him tightly, shouting at everyone to stay back.

“We’ll protect you,” Jinwoo promised, gaze fierce.

Minhyuk took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dismissed his wings, but the damage was already done.
It was Bin who grabbed his hand, Bin the fastest runner of them all, and said, “Come on!”

It was Dongmin who flung himself in front of the security officers.

Somehow it was Myungjun who cut the lights, yanking on a nearby power cord, and for a moment all Minhyuk could see was the dazzling ocean of purple lights.

And then his night vision kicked in, and he tugged on Bin’s arm even as Bin stumbled to a halt, cursing.
“Hyung! This way!”

*

“What now?” Sanha asked.

Minhyuk kept his hood pulled up, his mask on. It wasn’t illegal to be one of The Winged. It wasn’t illegal to kill one or take their wings, either.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “I’ll send word once I’ve settled in.”

Dongmin, using his vast connections, had helped Minhyuk acquire new identity documents, including a passport. They all agreed — Minhyuk could get lost in America, in a bustling coastal city full of other Koreans looking to start new lives.

“How will you make money? All your life you’ve only done one thing.” Myungjun cut himself off and bit his lip, fretting.

Minhyuk’s performing days were over. If he dared to dance or sing, there was a chance someone might recognize him.

Minhyuk held up a single black feather.

Bin stared. “Is that —?”

Minhyuk pressed the feather into Jinwoo’s hand. “Sell it. Make good money. Whatever I do, I’ll be able to make good money.”

Dongmin put a hand on Minhyuk’s shoulder and squeezed. “But that’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“My feathers will always grow back,” Minhyuk said. “I don’t have to lose my wings or my life to give up a few feathers.”

Sanha’s brow furrowed. “But — hunters —”

“We’re people,” Minhyuk said, “and just once, someone could ask.”

“What about your mother?” Jinwoo asked finally, feather cradled on his palm.

“As far as she’s concerned, I died long ago.”

“You better not forget us,” Bin said finally. He yanked Minhyuk into a hug.

The others piled on, squeezing him so hard he thought they would imprint themselves on his bones. He wanted to carry them all with him. He could only carry memories of them in his heart.

“I won’t forget you,” he promised. “Don’t forget me either.”

Myungjun smiled sadly. “How could we forget the boy who could fly?”

Minhyuk gave each of them a feather as a parting gift, to sell or keep and use when they needed dire healing, and then he turned to go.

Finally, he was on his way to find a place where he could fly free.

From:

brumeier

That was a brutal start, friend, and no lie! But I'm glad Minhyuk was eventually able to let himself have brothers of a different sort. I hope he has a better life moving forward!

Thank you for this full-of-feels fill! (say that three times fast!)

From:

nagi_schwarz

I definitely cannot say that three times fast lol.

Yeah, it was a pretty brutal start, but I did my best to give my boy a hopeful ending.

You are welcome for the fill!

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, The Last Starfighter (1984)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, Legend (1985)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, Weird Science (1985)

From:

brumeier

Any, Any, Adventures in Babysitting (1987)

From:

helsinkibaby

For Chicago Med, Dean/Hannah
https://archiveofourown.org/works/57011071

From:

brumeier

Super cute! Thank you so much!

From:

nagi_schwarz

Thank you for the fill!

From:

jupiter2932

The Fall Guy, Colt Seavers(/Jody Moreno) + any, Last Action Hero (1993)

From:

cornerofmadness

any, any When You Finish Saving the World

From:

nagi_schwarz

Heero felt his phone buzz just as he climbed into the helicopter. The signal jamming was over now that he was clear of the mission zone.

He checked his phone and saw he had a new voice message from Duo. He listened to it, curious. What was so complex or urgent that Duo had left a voicemail instead of simply sending a text?

When you finish saving the world, bring home some ramen!

Heero frowned at his phone in disbelief. That was it? That was all Duo had had to say? Heero listened to the message again, checking Duo’s intonation and pronunciation in case he was trying to send a covert warning, but Duo sounded like his usual cheery self.

Heero sighed and tucked his phone away, then settled in for the flight back to HQ.

As pointless as that message was, he would still stop by the convenience store on the corner and pick up a case of ramen on the way back to the apartment he shared with Duo.

*

Heero cut the engine on the stolen motorcycle after he pulled into the repair garage. Seonyul, the chief mechanic who was also one of his informants, caught the keys after Heero tossed them, and then Seonyul nodded to his crew, who immediately swarmed the bike to disassemble it to sell the parts for scrap — and render it untraceable to the men who were chasing him.

Heero headed up the stairs to the break room adjacent to Seonyul’s office. There was a comm portal in the cupboard beneath the coffee maker. He could check in with HQ from there. As soon as he stepped into the break room, he slid a hand behind the weird furry yarn portrait of Seonyul himself and flipped a switch.

Comms were secure.

Heero reached into his pocket and turned on his phone, ready to receive the latest batch of communication codes.

Among the missed texts and calls and instant messages containing code updates was a voicemail notification.
Message from Duo.

Heero listened to it even as he was reaching into the cupboard and keying codes into the comm portal.

Hey, I accidentally left a package in my locker at HQ. When you finish saving the world, can you drop it off at the scrapyard for Hilde? Thanks a bunch. Don’t forget to tell her happy birthday — from both of us.

Once again, Heero paused and re-listened to the message to make sure there was no hidden warning or code, but the message was exactly what it sounded like. As an orphan, Duo had no clue when his own birthday was and was never fussed about celebrating it, but he always remembered everyone else’s.

He tucked his phone away and leaned in for the retina scan at the comm portal before it connected him through to HQ.

“Preventer Wing. I have acquired the data chips.”

On the way out of the garage, Heero and Seonyul exchanged casual salutes, and then Heero headed for the evac rendezvous coordinates, wondering what Hilde’s birthday present was all the while.

*

“Are you all right, Preventer Wing?” Dejun asked, kneeling beside Heero while Heero finished bandaging the bullet graze wound on his arm.

“Fine,” Heero grunted, and leaned down, yanking on one end of the bandage with his teeth to make sure it was tight before he tied the knot. Then he pushed himself to his feet. “Where are we on the prisoners?”

“Secure and ready for transport.” Dejun rose with him. “Sir, you were shot —”

“Not badly.” Heero headed for the hangar where the cargo plane full of prisoners should have been ready to take off. He gave Dejun a once-over. “You?”

“Sicheng and I are both fine.” Dejun trotted along with him. “You’re bleeding —”

“I said I’m fine.” Heero felt his phone buzz, and he checked it.

Message from Duo.

He listened to it.

When you finish saving the world, can you tell Lady Une I can’t make it to Marimeia’s Halloween shindig? I know she loves dressing up and all, and I usually love a good costume shindig too, but this year isn’t really my party year, is it?

Heero winced internally. Even if Duo sounded like his bright usual self, he wasn’t, hadn’t been the same since that mission —

“Sir!” Sicheng ducked under one of the wings and crossed the hangar. “One of the prisoners wants to defect.”
Heero nodded. “Separate him from the others to prevent harm or other tampering.”

Sicheng saluted. “We have them all in separate cells so they can’t collude with each other.”

“Good.” Heero stepped into the cargo hold and saw that each cell had been separated from the one beside it with blackout tarps. His agents, though young, were smart.

Thinking about the prisoners meant he wouldn’t have to think about the Halloween party, and what he might have to wear, and how he hated going to parties alone.

*

Heero opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling — of an ambulance.

Right. An ambulance. He remembered the sirens, vaguely.

And an exploding building before that.

He patted himself down, and there, in one of his cargo pockets, was a floppy disk.

A floppy disk, of all things.

Mission success.

“You’ll be all right, sir,” Yuta said, gazing at him earnestly.

Right. Rookie agents had ridden along. “Thank you, Nakamoto.”

“Director Une will meet you at the hospital,” Shotaro piped up, on the other side of him.

He had two agents riding along with him?

The paramedic checking the IV line seemed unbothered by the two puppy-eager rookies.

“Osaki,” Heero said, fishing the disk out of his pocket, “make sure that Agent Chang gets this.”

Shotaro accepted it gingerly, holding it by the corner like he was afraid he would damage it. “Yes, sir. It — what is it?”

The paramedic snorted, and Shotaro darted a nervous glance at her, clearly afraid he’d let important classified information slip.

“It’s a floppy disk,” Heero said, and tried not to feel old. He wasn’t old. He’d just started fighting a war when he was fourteen. “Just — Wufei will know how to access the data on it. It’s fine.”

Yuta leaned in to peer at the disk. “There’s data stored on there? How?”

Heero sighed and closed his eyes. “You can look it up on the net later.”

“Sir,” Shotaro said.

Heero didn’t open his eyes.

“Your phone was buzzing. Someone tried to call you. I think it was someone important.” Shotaro pressed Heero’s phone into his hand.

Heero opened his eyes — and stared. Missed calls. From multiple people. Multiple voice messages, too.

Including one from Duo.

He listened to it.

When you finish saving the world, tell Relena that I did not snub her annual peace ball in favor of Marimeiea’s halloween shindig. Lady Une is my boss, and I want to keep my job. Not that a grim reaper in a wheelchair is a compelling case for me keeping my job, but still.

Heero closed his eyes again and slid his phone into his pocket where the disk had been. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Relena.

But he would. For Duo.

*

“Police your brass,” Heero said, and the rookies snapped to attention with salutes before they scrambled to obey his order.

He was pleased when he saw them organize instead of all crouching down and haphazardly scooping up bullet casings. Carlyn and Rayna grabbed brooms, while Chantal and Kriesha found dustpans. It was Jyrra who found a bucket to collect all the swept-up casings, and they were finished much faster than they’d have been if they’d all just tried to clean their own lanes.

“Good job,” Heero said, because he wasn’t stingy with praise, not for his rookies.

The women formed up, saluted, and then headed for the locker rooms.

Heero turned in the remnants of his box of ammo to the rangemaster, then headed to the men’s locker room to stow his ear protection. He’d clean his pistol once he was back home.

He checked his phone and saw some emails and text messages and missed calls. A quick scroll told him none of them were urgent.

He listened to his voicemail.

Single message from Duo.

When you finish training the next generation to save the world, let’s go see Trowa at the circus!

The excitement in his voice was almost palpable.

Heero made a call. “Catherine, I need two tickets for today. Can you make sure a wheelchair accessible seat is available in the big top for Trowa’s next performance? Thank you.”

*

Heero opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting his brain come online. Time to get up and get ready for work.

He started to roll out of bed, but an arm snaked around his waist, and a warm body pressed up against him.
Heero closed his eyes and let himself experience Duo beside him, his warmth, his solidness, the scent of his hair, the way the silky strands tickled his nose.

Duo hummed happily.

They lay there for three minutes, which was all Heero could spare if he wanted to get to work on time, but he wished he could stay longer.

He kissed Duo before he sat up and slid out of the bed.

Duo immediately snuggled Heero’s abandoned pillow with another happy sigh.

“When you finish saving the world, make sure you come back to me in one piece.”

“I will,” Heero promised.

Duo had come back for him, and Heero would do the same for him too.

From:

cornerofmadness

Thanks so much. Ah Gundam, that takes me back. (And since Heero mentioned it, yeah floppy discs...oddly using them in a story I'm working on right now)

I love the repeated after you save the world messages and the ending was just so sweet. Thanks again

From:

nagi_schwarz

You're so welcome! For some reason this prompt gave me GW vibes, so I went for it.

From:

cornerofmadness

much appreciated

From:

cornerofmadness

Hazbin Hotel, Husk+/Angel Dust, Craving

From:

cornerofmadness

any, any, evil dead rise

From:

cornerofmadness

any, any, no one will save you

From:

hexmix

Any, Any, Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)

From:

nagi_schwarz

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Zell blinked, confused, at the enraged voice that had just shattered the peaceful cocoon of silence he’d been dozing in.

He blinked again, and he realized the blur in doorway was not just his fuzzy vision being fuzzy but was a person.

When Zell blinked a third time, the blur of gray and red and yellow resolved itself into Seifer, wearing his old trenchcoat with the fire crosses on it.

No janitor uniform?

Suddenly Seifer was kneeling beside Zell’s bed, staring at him, one hand outstretched but not touching him. “Are you insane? The students said you came back on a stretcher and covered in blood. I thought you were dead, but you just went out picking fights with monsters on your own?”

“Beasts of the southern wild,” Zell managed to croak out. Not just any monsters.

“Just because you’re a full-ranked SeeD doesn’t mean you should just — just —” Seifer dragged a hand through his hair, disheveling it.

Zell pointed to his jacket, which someone had dumped onto the chair in the corner of his quarters.

Seifer followed the line of Zell’s hand, frowning. “What do you want?”

“Pockets,” Zell said.

Seifer looked confused. “What?”

“My jacket. Check — pockets.”

“I don’t give a damn about what’s in your pockets —”

Zell swallowed hard, then managed, “Adamantine.”

Seifer turned back to him. “What?”

“Adamantine,” Zell said again. “Fought — adamantoise. Got adamantine.”

“And what, you want to hold it or something? To make yourself feel better about your stupidity?”

Zell coughed, wincing at the way his cracked ribs burned. “For you. Upgrade Hyperion.”

Seifer stared at him. “Why the hell would you do something so stupid just so I can upgrade Hyperion?”

There was no way Seifer could afford to buy the materials or services needed to upgrade Hyperion. As a janitor, he was tied to the training center whenever classes were in session, and breaks were short. Cadets at Balamb Garden basically lived there.

Zell shrugged his good shoulder.

Seifer rose to his feet and loomed over Zell. “Dincht, if you don’t answer me right now —”

Zell yawned and feigned letting his eyes flutter closed.

He feigned snoring next.

He could still feel Seifer’s presence beside him.

“Dincht, open your eyes and look at me.”

Zell continued to fake snore.

Eventually, Seifer turned and left.

Eventually, Zell fell asleep.

When he woke several hours later, his jacket remained untouched on the chair in the corner.

A week later, when he was finally strong enough to leave his room on short trips around garden, he went to Seifer’s quarters with the pieces of adamantine ore in hand.

“No students allowed back here,” Seifer said even before he got his door all the way open.

Zell held out the adamantine. “Not a student.”

Seifer narrowed his eyes, looking Zell up and down. “Should you be out of bed?”

“It’s been over a week.”

Seifer crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking that — that blood money.”

Zell rolled his eyes. “Take it, upgrade Hyperion, and come with me next time.”

“Next time? There will be no next time, Zell Dincht —”

“I’ll be fine if you’re with me.”

Seifer me Zell’s gaze for only a second, and the tips of his ears turned red, and he dropped his gaze to the adamantine on Zell’s outstretched palm. Then he snatched it up. “Fine. But only because I can’t trust you not to be stupid and do something like that solo again.”

Zell resisted the urge to smile. “Gonna go take some more recovery potions and —”

“Potions aren’t as good as real recovery time and you know it. Get back to your quarters. It’ll take at least two weeks for upgrades anyway.” Seifer started to close the door.

Zell waved before he turned to go. He was making progress.

From:

hexmix

gosh this is great! Seifer's "What, you want to hold it or something?" had me laughing out loud. their interactions are so good here; Zell feeling moved to help Seifer out and Seifer's pride prickling. also just love seeing more of janitor!Seifer. i think it's real fun to think about where everyone would have ended up post-game, but Seifer in particular would be in a difficult position, and i think casting him as janitor is really really interesting. c:

anyway thank you so much for the fill! <3 <3

From:

nagi_schwarz

You are so welcome!

I swear I once read (or wrote? maybe wrote) a fic where Seifer ended up as one of the janitors in the training center, since he'd be good at it but as a former sorceress's knight a lot of people might wish him harm, so showing his face in public was a bad idea, so I guess my post-game headcanon for Seifer is, at least at first, janitor. Those big hats would hide his face.

From:

hexmix

that does make a lot of sense! i tend towards putting him in similar positions if i'm writing him post-game, like just having him take up an occupation where he's not really seeing or interacting with other people, bc yeah people probably aren't going to be too happy to see him. the big hats are a fun option tho :)