Profanities

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor was I the sole creator of the profanities and creative names used in this fic. That worthy title goes to the many wonderful folks of the Regretsy comment forums, and to the bad ass lady who created the Sailor Trouble Drinking Game (with caps) and its corresponding study guide; speaking of which, I need to print a copy for myself...

"You're just jealous, Sparkletits McFuckFace." If Seph hadn't seen the tiny flecks of sweat glistening on Zack's forehead, he could have easily convinced himself that his Major was simply teasing, and entirely sober. 'If' being the operative word. He sighed, rubbed one calloused hand across his face, and slumped forward, wondering what he'd gotten himself into when he'd agreed to host the bi-annual Turk/SOLDIER holiday party. It wasn't even six in the evening, and Mr. Fair was clearly plastered to the trained eye.

"Zack, I tolerate your idiocy more than you know. Now knock it off with the profanity; the Turks aren't even here yet!"

"Aww...you're a bit of a bawdy, fen-sucked scut, aren't ya, Seph?"

"..."

"Relax, will ya? It's practice!"

"For what?"

"Sailor Trouble! It's a fucking awesome drinking game."

"Why do I suspect you and Reno spent a good portion of the company's time creating this game?"

"Because you know us, and you know that Elena likes to ply us with liquor and cheap chocolate in order to make her plans come to fruition?"

"And how is this going to get Elena into Tseng's pants?"

"The same way answering your questions with rhetorical ones helps me sober up enough to find the booklet." Sephiroth looked pained.

"There's a booklet?" Zack was rummaging around in his enormous knapsack, tossing rations, clothing, and cheap porn all over the floor of Seph's apartment. The General groaned and slouched back into his armchair, popping the cap off a bottle of tequila with careless ease on the square side table they so often used for card games, drinking games, and the occasional prop for Charades.

"Course there is, the drunker you get, the more likely the insults devolve. So, we had a few of these puppies printed up."

"Also using ShinRa materials."

"Nah, used the President's."

"..."

"DON'T SET MY PORN ON FIRE!"

"Then don't steal from the fat ass who tells Hojo to make my life hell."

"My poor Felicity..."

"Poor, my lily white ass. Implants like those do not come cheap, Zackary."

"Fine, fine..." He surfaced at last with a beat-up, stained, battered little booklet, stapled together in two places. "Hallelujah!" Reno poked his head in, followed by Rude, Tseng, and Elena, Reeve, Cloud, Kunsel, and Cissnei bringing up the rear.

"Hallelujah, what? We ain't even started drinkin'!" Cissnei smirked, and picked up one of the dirty mags, rolling it up and smacking Zack in the head with it.

"Clearly, we've been beaten to the punch, Director."

"And the tequila as well. Pass me a bottle, Seph." Smirking, the General tossed the tall Wutaiian a bottle, watching as he repeated the manuveur he himself had used, while the others spread out, Reeve lounging on the second sofa and pulling out a rather large plastic bag, full to the brim with dried green leaves. Cloud brought him the other side table so that he could start rolling roaches, and the girls began setting up the make-shift wet bar out of his kitchenette. As Zack finally got his shit together and shoved in a corner, he slapped the booklet down, eliciting a leer from Reno, and a groan from Rude.

"Fuck yes."

"Oh, hell no. Reno, you fucking rat, you didn't tell me we'd be doing this again!"

"Ah, quit yer bitchin'. We got time to study, this round." Reeve looked up from where he finished the first little roach, and looked rather inquisitive, completely oblivious to Cloud's fingers slowly filching the pot. Kunsel whacked him with his helmet, and settled on the arm of the chair, curious despite himself.

"So, what game is this? I keep seeing it on the monitors, but I never can quite figure out what the hell you're doing." Zack and Reno shared identical, creepy grins, and spoke as one.

"It's Sailor Trouble. The goal of the game is to keep a straight face while reading or coming up with creative new insults for the person to your right. Or your left. Or whoever the fuck you want it to be. If you crack up, you take a shot, whether you're saying it or not." Rude scrunched up his face and sighed.

"Basically, everyone ends up smashed, because the insults are so stupid you can't help but laugh."

"For instance!" Zack grinned as he pulled it open to page four. "Mister assfister blister." Tequila shot out of Tseng's nose, while Reeve nearly swallowed his joint, as everyone else, even Sephiroth, cracked up. Zack snickered. "It can also be sister assfister blister, or any number of things that rhyme. This little gem is a conglomeration of all the swear words, phrases, and dirty, filthy language we could come up with over the course of a week. If we'd had more time to devote to the project, I'd bet my non-existant paycheck there'd be more." Tseng was still coughing, but Elena kept breaking into giggles, while Cissnei would snort from time to time and Cloud just looked confused.

"I don't get it, Zack." The older man sighed, pulled out a bag of lemon-flavored candy, and chucked it at the chocobo-head. Cloud was promptly busy crunching on the yellow ovals, and the Major looked back at his friends with a shrug. "He's good for running to get pizza late at night."

"Pustule-sucking rodent fucker."

"Flaming fuckweasel."

"Hitler's ass hair."

"Tofu puppy."

"Douche canoe."

"Count Fartula." Zack cracked, and started giggling like a maniac before he yelped and tried to throw a punch at Reno. Missing entirely, he settled for taking another shot and growling, though it was not terribly scary due to his swaying like a tree in a hurricane. Seph had refused to join; instead, he'd acted as referree while the others gradually either forfeited or lost horribly to the two sitting before them now. The whole apartment smelled of liquor, marijuana, and popcorn, and he was reasonably sure that Tseng had locked himself in the bedroom with Cissnei to avoid Elena, while the blonde was still rooting around for more alcohol in his cabinets. Kunsel and Reeve were in the shadows making out, while Cloud sat near Zack, watching the exchange with awe, giggles, and the not-quite-there gaze of the utterly stoned. Rude was asleep.

"Camel-fucking twuntsicle!"

"$5 dollar ass slapper."

"Moldy panty stain."

"Shit-sniffing, strudel-munching motherfucker!"

"Hobo-a-gogo!"

"ReTARDIS."

"Rush Limbaugh."

"Scarlet!"

"Heidigger!"

"Palmer!"

"HOJO." Even as Zack said it, he knew he'd gone too far. Reno went utterly white, as heads popped up all around the room, including from Seph's bedroom doorway, and slowly, with the certainty that there was a choir of clones somewhere in the depths of ShinRa chanting ominously, he looked up at the towering figure that was his superior, best friend...and likely executioner. He couldn't even make his eyes go big and full of tears like usual; oh no, there was no turning back now. Seph would kill him, burn him, drop his ashes off with his parents, then obliterate Gongaga in the time it took for him to open his mouth to apolgize, maybe even scream...when a low, husky laugh filled the room, and dumbfounded, the entire party was treated to the sight of General Sephiroth laughing his ass off. He pulled himself together quicker than most, though a smirk still hovered on his lips, and he shook his head slowly, staring down at Zack with a gleam in his eye.

"That'll teach you, you slack-jawed, candy-assed cumdumpster of a slam whore."

I just want to reiterate that this is not safe for anyone's viewing, least of all under the age of eighteen, and was created after having had approximately .05 hours of sleep.