Into Thin Air x Naruto drabble (2015-05-27)

Spiky blonde hair and bright blue eyes?

Well, zie can’t deny it–the kid would be a shoe-in for Nibelheim’s most infamous siblings. And vice versa apparently.

Hir grasp of the Wutaian language is shaky to passable; on top of that, what the people speak here isn’t quite the same. More like a distant relative. Or descendant.

The kid is staring at hir with wide hopeful eyes, somehow more painfully earnest than hir brother during his most naive moments. He hasn’t looked away from hir since he and his team entered the room.

It’s fair, since zie keeps hir own gaze darting around, only briefly landing on him before moving on.

The old man next to hir plays at being feeble and soft, but zie knows better. Zie would be defeated quite soundly if it came to it. And that’s not including the two hidden guards, or the silver-haired man slouching against the wall.

Zie tries not to shudder in apprehension. It’s the same color as General Sephiroth’s hair, though far more unruly. He might be a clone. Zie can’t tell, due to the mask and strange slanted headband. It wouldn’t be a surprise, considering the Strife look alike.

Perhaps this is all a hallucination, or a fever dream. Aren’t dreams supposed to take faces and images from real life?

The stoic black haired boy might as well be a young Vincent in blue instead of red.

But that wouldn’t make any sense. Because as far as zie remembers, zie’s dead. Dead dead dead dead dead.

And not ever coming back.

That’s what happens when you get stabbed through the heart by a sword taller than you.


No. Dead.

But zie did die in the Forgotten Capital of the Ancients. In place of the Last Ancient. Surely…

The old man says something to the kid, which somehow makes his stare even more intense. The lone visible eye of the masked clone widens slightly.

So something… significant, but not dangerous. The pink-haired girl, at least, hasn’t given hir more than a passing glance. A mildly shocked look, before fading away into polite disinterest.

The old man then says something to hir. Which zie doesn’t understand why, considering they’ve already hit up against a serious language barrier.

But he writes down something, and while the oral language is an effort in futility, the written language at least is comprehensible.


He passes the pen over to hir, a prompt for hir to answer.

There is no reason to lie. So zie doesn’t.

Namikaze, zie learned long ago, is written with the kanji for waves and wind. But a more poetic interpretation of the name is strife. It’s easy enough to remember, and convenient, as it encompasses hir full born name.

Namikaze, zie later learns, is the name of a dead hero.

A hero with spiky blonde hair and bright blue eyes.


A/N: Yet another terrible crossover with and OC. This time, my genderfluid twin sibling of Cloud Strife, aka Windy Strife aka Winter the Turk aka many other things, wakes up in the world of Naruto after hir death (which… spoilers?… I was going to have hir die trying to protect Aerith from Sephiroth).

I don’t really have a cohesive outline/plot for this. It was a random idea I had when I was at work and then I had to wait until I got home to type it out so it’s a bit haphazard than I would normally do.

Don’t think I’m going to continue this, anyway, since the whole language barrier thing would get really annoying and unwieldy pretty early in.

Into Thin Air drabble (2015-05-19)

It’s a miserable situation for all involved. He with untrustworthy memories and contradictory stories. She with a dead hometown and the trauma of having survived. And zie with an amnesiac brother, a hateful childhood tormentor whispering in his ear, and stuck with an entire troop of terrorists working against hir employer

Well, at least they haven’t killed hir yet. But Winter the Turk certainly doesn’t have any friends amongst AVALANCHE, and hir allies number in two: said amnesiac brother and the Ancient that ran away from home under hir watch.

If AVALANCHE isn’t the one that kills hir, then ShinRa will certainly be eager to step up on that front.

But perhaps zie can make the argument that technically hir orders were to safeguard Miss Gainsborough. If she happens to throw her lot in with a group of terrorists then it’s only right for Winter, as her Turk bodyguard, to ensure that she comes to no harm during her… endeavors.

Ugh. As soon as the going gets tough, Windy will be the first left behind, or killed because of paranoia. If zie had to choose, zie’d want it to be in the line of duty, would want it to be hir choice.

But until then, Winter the Turk gets to be the disliked member of this little gang–lingering around like an unwanted reminder or a bad smell.

Perhaps the only one to not look at Windy with hate of varying levels would be Valentine. It makes sense, though, that an stoic ex-Turk gunner would be the most… sympathetic towards a silent current-Turk archer. If his placid apathy could be considered sympathy. But Valentine himself is accepted amongst the group where zie is not. An ex-Turk killed and experimented on is much different than one who still wears the blue suit.

This sucks.


A/N: Having some Windy feels… haven’t actually played enough FFVII to know what happens when so I’ve kept everything vague on purpose.

Some background: Windy Strife is, yes, my OC. Specifically, a gender-fluid twin sibling of Cloud who–once it came out that she was biologically female–was kicked out of the SOLDIER trials and joined the Turks instead. For more drabbles in this universe either follow the Windy Strife tag or the Into Thin Air tag.

Into Thin Air (2015-05-04)

Windy’s seventh training mission in Midgar coincides with hir first time meeting Don Corneo. It’s part of the reason why Cloud will end up needing to cross-dress in the future. Zie will never tell him.

The mission didn’t actually involve Don Corneo, that’s just the way it turned out. It didn’t need Windy to assume an identity either, but it was one of the things which had appealed to the Turks for her recruitment. Which was why, for that mission, Windy was going by the name Wayne.

The mission started simple–establish a contact in the Honey Bee Inn–but in the way that, apparently, both Strife twins’ lives worked even minor tasks were needlessly complicated. Most of the brothel girls were very kind, but sex workers don’t give favors out for free.

Thankfully, Wayne was a very accommodating young man, whose open country-boy face prompted people to be generous in turn. And so the girls would ask him to complete little tasks in exchange for information. A delivery here, a purchase there–little things which sent Wayne running throughout the different sectors.

It was easy work, nothing which required him to break character, and it helped Windy form a mental map of the slums. Being from Nibelheim was a disadvantage when so much of ShinRa’s activities were in cities. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Though undemanding, Windy’s seventh mission was tedious, and ended up taking almost two weeks. While Turk training missions didn’t necessarily have a deadline, surely hir speed, or lack thereof, was a poor showing for a Turk recruit. Zie needed to step up hir game. Wayne needed to meet the Inn’s Madame; he needed to meet the Queen.


A/N: … I was going to continue… basically, the Queen would give Windy/Wayne an “impossible” task aka something to do with Don Corneo. Which Windy would complete, and which would make the Queen hir contact.

And which ends up impressing the Turk recruiters, etc. etc. The reason why Cloud can’t be a guy around Don Corneo (besides the whole… only women allowed thing) is because he’ll look too much like a younger Windy cross-dressing as Wayne (Windy was taller/bigger than Cloud). Whom Don Corneo has a grudge against.

Word Prompts (O20): Ozone

Windy’s first mission outside of Midgar heralds hir first time in a helicopter. It is not a fun experience.

“Oh Hel, why,” Windy groans, fingers pale with how desperately he is grabbing at the fabric of his uniform trousers trying not to puke. His hair, as always, is an absolute loss, whipping about in bright blonde curls.

Reno, that ass, brays with laughter, smacks hir shoulder and shouts, “Better get used to it, rookie. This is how Turks travel in style!”

Rude, while not as obnoxious as his partner, still manages to give off a vibe of smug superiority.

This mission, unlike all of WIndy’s previous missions, actually matters. It’s why there are a pair of actual Turks accompanying her. Or, rather, why she is accompanying them. If Windy performs well enough on this mission, she’ll finally be officially accepted into the Turks. Instead of a trainee running errands all around Midgar.

“Beginning descent,” Knife warns before, suddenly, the helicopter ride gets worse by plummeting a hundreds of feet. Probably not really, but it might as well, going by the increase in Windy’s nausea. Her Turk mentor does not believe in coddling.

When they finally land on solid ground, Windy can proudly say that he did not embarrass himself by a) puking or b) dropping to the ground in gratitude and weak knees. Unfortunately, Windy’s hair is a mess and his incessant clutching has wrinkled the new Turk uniform he was given just this morning.

In comparison to Rude and Knife’s immaculate suits, and Reno’s roguish yet tasteful casualness, Windy’s dishevelment is noticeable and… a little shameful. Quickly zie runs her hands through hir hair, wincing but silently pulling it through tangles, and pats down the wrinkles in the midnight blue fabric as best as zie can.

The senior Turks are obligingly patient as she does this, though they are far more amused than he’d prefer.

“Today we’re checking in on some… suspicious activity in the Fort Condor generator. Someone is either willfully or ignorantly fucking up and we need to find out who, and we need to stop this.” Knife barely explains before leading their small but deadly group of four towards the ShinRa generator.

In the distance, Windy can see the townspeople staring at them. Ahead of them, the troopers stationed at the entrance visibly straighten their posture.

Looking at them makes her wonder how her brother is doing… but that just reminds Windy of the last time they saw each other and their less than amicable parting. The Strife brothers were as different as twins could have been; even their fellow cadets knew that Wind would have made an excellent SOLDIER. Cloud? Not so much. Too bad it was all a lie.

The trooper’s gazes are tinged with more fear than the admiration that would have been aimed at a SOLDIER, but Turks get respect too.

Windy hopes zie doesn’t fuck this up.


A/N: I’m more fond of Windy than I think I can justify… and yes, I purposefully mixed up pronouns because Windy really does think of hirself as different genders depending on what zie is doing or thinking.

And yet another drabble which doesn’t include the actual prompt word.

Into Thin Air drabble (2015-02-10) [2]

“There’s something off about that Strife kid,” Kunsel muttered, narrow eyed glare hidden behind his helmet’s visor. Next to him, Zack turned, SOLDIER hearing easily picking up his friend’s words.

They both watched the cadets milling around the cafeteria, in particular, a pair of blonde cadets. One who was easily chatting with his peers, the other passively eating his allotted pile of mush.

“Who–Spike? Nah, he’s just a little shy, you know? I mean… yeah, he’s kind small, but he’s got heart.” Zack rambled, meaning well. Cloud Strife was a good kid, a nice one. If that were the criteria SOLDIER chose their candidates, he’d be shoe in. Unfortunately…

“No, the other one. His brother.”

“Oh. You think? He seems pretty friendly. And Cloudy said he was top of the class, I think.” Wind Strife, on the other hand, would make a decent Second Class in no time at all. Maybe even First Class in four or five years.

“Yeah, that’s what’s so suspicious,” The two Second Classes took a seat, their own food much more appetizing than the slop given to cadets. They were three tables away, but they could still pick up on what was being said–SOLDIER senses and all that. Not that cadets were good at moderating their voices. Most cadets, anyway.

“Wind, man, I can’t believe we actually won that last trial!” One of the cadets–Gregson, Greyson–something like that, whooped. Two other cadets at their table cheered in agreement.

“What? So little faith in me, Jake. Maybe next time I’ll pick someone else for my fireteam.” Wind joked, smiling to take the edge out of the words.

“He’s just saying we’re all surprised at how well we recovered after that idio– your brother fumbled the package,” said a different cadet, on the opposite side of the table. He was Smith or Jones, one of those ridiculously common names. He winced at his own verbal slip, knowing what was to come…

“I think my brother did pretty well, considering he didn’t have proper cover fire. We haven’t gotten to the higher level infiltration course yet, and Cloud still made it passed two of the enemies despite his distraction being two minutes late.”

… or not. That was pretty mild. Still obvious who was supposed to be in charge of Cloud’s cover fire and the distraction, though.

“Thanks Windy,” the smaller twin murmured, arm nudging into his brother’s side in gratitude.

“Y-yeah, Cloud. That was pretty cool,” The other cadet tried to backtrack, as others around the table also chimed in tentatively.

“I’m thinking about switching up our fireteam, though. Hey Stephen, you did pretty well on our last demolitions exam, didn’t you?”

A cadet at the very end of the table, Krantz, nearly falling off the bench seat, perked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah, uh, not as good as you though.”

“Don’t be so modest, Stephen. Better than Mitch, right?”

… and there it was.

While the rest of the table didn’t quite freeze, they were hesitant to interrupt. And Mitch Jones–the cadet who might as well have been eating his own foot for lunch–just gripped his utensils and accepted his fall from grace.

Wind, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the table’s silence, continued on, “How about next trial you join my fireteam? We’re all one squad anyway, we should get used to working with each other before the trials become squad versus squad.”

“Sounds great,” Krantz enthused, moving in to the space unconsciously made for him by the other cadets.

“Man, Wind, that’s a great idea” Gregson said, back to his previous volume, “You’d make a great squad leader,”

The rest of the boys around the table nodded and agreed, ingratiating.

“Ha, no way, but thanks. And plus, it’s the instructors that choose squad leaders isn’t it?” Wind demurred, though he waited a bit before switching topics, “Okay, hands up, who did not understand the strategy reading from yesterday? That textbook is so bad,”

The cadets then devolved into whining about their coursework, their classes, and their instructors for ten minutes, until the chime which signaled every half hour went off. As a herd they rushed through clearing the table and leaving the cafeteria.

When they were gone, Kunsel just made a face at Zack who, despite SOLDIER senses not including the ability to see through solids, could somehow still tell. Zack grimaced in return, “I see what you mean,”

Except for two words, Cloud hadn’t said a thing the entire lunch break. And that was to his brother. In contrast, Wind had held court over their table–his squad mates practically bowing down and swearing fealty. Zack himself had been just as popular during their time as cadets, but he hadn’t been that…

“The word you’re looking for is manipulative,” Kunsel chimed in, reading his friend’s shifting expressions.

“… Yeah. But, well. He’s not bad. He totally stood up for his brother, a good brother can’t be a horrible person, right?”


A/N: Uh… don’t know if I quite conveyed what I wanted to… but that’s what you have so… Also, I have a fondness for Windy Strife. I was gonna do another part about how people think Cloud calling Windy by hir birth name is an effeminate speech pattern on his part, when in fact it’s because Windy’s name is actually feminine. And Zack, trying to be friendly and stuff just calls Cloud Cloudy because of it.

Also, wrote two today for some reason… so check out the other one.

Into Thin Air drabble (2015-01-11)

Zie is Windy. She is Wendy. He is Wind.

Zie is the sister, sibling, brother. The protector, student, destroyer. He is the best candidate for the job, she is kicked out before she can graduate. They are told to carve their own place in the world, to find a niche; zie does not settle for just one.

Windy is from the cold, harsh mountains. Named for the storms that trump even dragons and wolves in the race for most deadly. Zie does not like the people, and they do not like hir. Worse, they do not like hir brother. Zie learns to shoot, to kill, to feed, to clothe, to shelter. When hir brother leaves, zie does not follow, because zie is already gone.

Wendy is a soft, sweet girl; naive like all country girls are in the city. She lets strange men buy her meals, drape her in all the newest fashions, all luxurious fabrics and sparkling gems. She shies away from too much touch, but she is warm and her skin so smooth, and every chaste kiss convinces these men that they have been paid in turn. They never notice the scrawny boy with matching features hiding in the shadows.

Wind is the best and brightest of his squad. He makes the funniest jokes and knows all the tricks to keeping uniforms neat and inspection ready. He’s friends with everyone, can kick anyone’s ass, and is a shoe in for the  elite special forces program. It’s unfortunate about his less-talented, hanger on brother–sometimes family is a burden that can’t be escaped–but he bears it well enough. There’s talk of an apprenticeship, if he can pass the medical exam.

She is kicked out of the program–they don’t accept girls. And she can’t say that she isn’t one. Especially now, after her breasts and lack of a penis have been brought to the forefront of her mind. And while she still seethes, her rage whipping around inside of her stupidly female chest, she accepts that she won’t ever achieve what so many people thought Wind would.

But zie can do so much more. There’s another organization, more flexible, more accepting, more fulfilling. Zie is Windy, she is Wendy, he is Wind. He is Wayne with the broad shoulders and slim hips, a minimal arm movement turned into a light caress. She is Wednesday with distracting blue eyes and shining golden hair, a neat pivot turned into a dance of either death or desire. Zie is the striker in the dark, a dragon destroying evil, flying free from hir cage with the apocalypse on hir tail. They are the soldiers that serve the people, the heroes that save the world.


A/N: … uh, so technically, this is fanfiction but vague enough that you don’t need to know anything about the fandom (or even which fandom) in order to hopefully enjoy it. But for those that are curious, it’s sort of FFVII fanfiction of a genderfluid twin!sibling of Cloud Strife who ended up becoming a Turk after getting kicked out of the SOLDIER trials. Zie’s supposed to be the Nidhoggr to Cloud’s Fenrir, basically–since the three most dangerous things in Nibelheim are the storms, the dragons, and the wolves. And Windy is definitely more dangerous than hir brother.