prismaticpichu

[prismaticpichu]

AHHHH tyyyyy, friendo!! I’m so glad you think so!! 🤣💖

I leech off your angst ingenuity and artfulness like a lil’ vampire bat in need of delicious sustenance, don’t mind me 🦇🥤

Could NOT get the Hojo & Sephiroth brain bugs out of my system tonight dhdhdhdh, so I wound up pouring that energy into a segment of that Amnesic!Sephiroth fic that’s been nibbling at me for ages!! 🐁💖

(Do note that this was written in a single burst of inspiration lmaooo, meaning it may not be the most polished piece of fic out there, but BOY did it satisfy those brain bugs lol!! I CAN SLEEP EASY TONIGHT 😂❤️)

Also, also!!! HUGE hugs to @altocat & @rosy-crow for infecting me with the dimensional Hojo brain bugs lmaooo!!! Not only are these two just lovely and incredible writers all around, but they have such an outstanding grasp on the FF7 characters that I admire to no end!! Ty two for being so freakin’ epic!! 💖

It’s kinda sweet?? It’s kinda fucked?? It’s kinda insane?? I dunno lmaoo! I just needed this bit OUT 🤣💖

~

A familiar scene.

Blazing light burned from the fluorescent strips overhead, an array of white-hot bars that beat down on the hospital bed as if it were under interrogation; monitors that pulsed in time with a drugged heartbeat; spatters of crimson that stained the walls and sheets like splashes of spilled wine, the air sharp with bloody mementos of fierce but failed resistance.

Muddy eyes studied the sterile enclosure as the Professor made his way inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

Cliiiiccck.

One sound. One second. One breath

It was all it took for His eyes to snap open, the mass of mercury hair and muscle tensing on the mattress, two steel chains rattling with the sudden motion.

Those acidic emeralds landed on his approaching shape like a missile.

Hojo didn’t stop advancing

“…H-he got really messed up in there. Guy doesn’t even recognize me. A-A-And it’s more than just some kind of amnesia. He doesn’t even seem to know that he’s safe—o-o-or that he doesn’t need to attack everyone who tries to come near him. I-I-I just don’t know, man. He’s acting like some kind of animal. O-o-or like he reverted somehow, got all twisted back to the times when… well, when he was with you. I think the labs are all he remembers now. Maybe he’ll even recognize you. Maybe you can bring my friend back.”

His boots crunched on on loose needles, stepped on scattered tools that were lost during one of the worser frays.

Those weapon-like eyes locked onto him.

They narrowed.

Sharpened.

Darkened.

“…Enough, boy.”

His lips pulled back into a snarl.

“I said that’s enough, boy.”

Stopping a small stretch away from the bedside, Hojo watched as those pale fingers curled into talons against the mattress, how he braced himself against his sheer presence — even when unarmed, unthreatening. He had not a single piece of equipment on him: no scalpels, no syringes, no vials. His pockets were empty and his hands were bare; he hadn’t even been the one to sedate him after all these violent fits. He hadn’t even been the one who ordered him to be restrained.

There was nothing for his Sephiroth to be “afraid” of right now.

His gaze lingered on those hooked fingers for a few more beats, an ungloved hand coming to push his slippery glasses back up, crunching down on his lip.

…a worrisome regression indeed.

“Sephiroth. Listen to me: you are not under examination right now. You are not in danger. You are not…”—strange, the way the words tasted acidic, sharp—“…a child anymore.”

The chains only rattled again, tight metal continue to jangle in protest as he took another step closer, those bladed teeth whetting into an unmistakable warning.

Hojo returned a cryptic frown of his own.

Could he not speak? Not communicate properly? Certainly Her cells were catalyzing some form of neurological stress, yes… but to this potent of a degree? Were they somehow interfering with the rest of his system? His brain? And why didn’t he have an answer…?! Nothing—nothing—about Her biology was supposed to warp his basic functioning to this extreme… Unless, or course, he hadn’t run enough tests? Had he not collected enough data? NO, no—utterly preposterous! He had dedicated his entire adult life to this project! Never could he miss such a glaring symptom…!

Somewhere, amid his rapid snowballing of glacial thoughts, the man had found himself stepping closer, closer—looking into those hollow, predatory, thorny eyes for any flicker of the specimen he had spent so carefully designing, searching behind this asphyxiating haze of alien instinct for any crack or clue or…

“Professor! CAREFUL!”

By the time he heard Fair’s panicked voice through the window, the talon had already slashed at him, the world smearing into a dizzying swirl of light and color as the man lost equilibrium and crumpled onto the floor, flesh ripped open—a bloom of blood swelling to the surface before the monstrous sound that had taken over his Sephiroth’s voice even finished reaching his ears, the guttural symphony of saliva and screeching drowning out the violent rattle of the chains, the shrieks of passerby medics as they witnessed the scene from the hallway.

Drowning out anything human.

Anything familiar.

Anything real.

Anything His.

Crumpled on the floor, one hand instinctively covering the infernal burn of his wound, the muddy grew cavernous as he lifted his gaze through the blood-beaded, fractured lenses of his glasses.

He could see his Sephiroth in perfect clarity anyway.

…

A sulky countenance; aching eyes; young fingers biting into each of his arms as the guilt-stricken boy gazed at the floor, the brush of silver bangs spilling over his face and veiling the injured Professor from view.

“…I didn’t mean it,” Sephiroth eventually murmured, clutching his arms tighter as he struggled to watch his caretaker gauze a cut he had inflicted amid his rage. “…I really didn’t, Pr’fessor.”

Was he saying it to avoid the punishment? The pain? The wrath? Glowering at his newly-dressed wound, Hojo considered all these options with great care, still holding the crimson-tipped training sword that Sephiroth had turned on him in his anger.

Defiance. Disobedience. Disrespect.

Absolutely unacceptable.

“Pro-o-o-fessor-or…”

And now crying, too.

“I… I’m…”

A child.

“I-I-I… I…”

.

.

.

So how was it that, in those fragile seconds between him turning around and finding that Sephiroth had splintered into a regretful sob, the disdain in his eyes all but drained away?

“I… I didn’t...” Sephiroth cradled himself, the burdened five-year-old struggling to keep his lips from quivering and dam the rivers trickling through his lashes. “I… I didn’t mean…”

How was it that, after spending mere hours training, he felt it was appropriate to resume his training tomorrow?

“Pr-o-o-fess… o…r…”

How was it that, after being betrayed by his own weapon, that he found himself lowering the training sword?

“I’m… I’m sor… r… y…”

And that he found himself lowering to a crouch, the previous scold extinguished from his mind.

“…pro… fessor!”

And that he didn’t resist when the young boy ran into his coat, wrapping his arms around him in a furiously tight embrace, letting himself find solace in the only guardian who had remained by his side since the moment he took his first breath.

“I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t want…”

An anchor. A constant.

“I know, Sephiroth. I know.”

A father.

“…my boy…”

.

.

.

“PROFESSOR…!”

The chains snapped.

Reality flooded his mind.

Sephiroth lunged.

“STOP IT…!”

Fair had intercepted his bestial friend before Sephiroth could reach his neck, the furious whirling of snarls and hisses and slashes all just barely contained by the SOLDIER’s trembling, ever-shredding arms, struggling with all his might to keep his feral ghost at bay.

“STOP IT, SEPH! STOP IT!”

Flailing. Snarls. Splatters.

“HE’S NOT GONNA HURT YOU…!”

Writhing. Hissing. Alarms.

“HE’S NOT GONNA HURT YOU RIGHT NOW…!”

.

.

.

And in the shadow of it all, as he watched his own creation unravel before him, the faintest quiver of the Professor’s frozen lips:

“…son…”

[prismaticpichu]

okie but Sephiroth still having an innate attachment to Hojo bc he was the first ever person to hold him… and the only guardian who never left him.

He may have taken those people away, but… it’s not as if Sephiroth knows 🐁

[prismaticpichu]

Could NOT get the Hojo & Sephiroth brain bugs out of my system tonight dhdhdhdh, so I wound up pouring that energy into a segment of that Amnesic!Sephiroth fic that’s been nibbling at me for ages!! 🐁💖

(Do note that this was written in a single burst of inspiration lmaooo, meaning it may not be the most polished piece of fic out there, but BOY did it satisfy those brain bugs lol!! I CAN SLEEP EASY TONIGHT 😂❤️)

Also, also!!! HUGE hugs to @altocat & @rosy-crow for infecting me with the dimensional Hojo brain bugs lmaooo!!! Not only are these two just lovely and incredible writers all around, but they have such an outstanding grasp on the FF7 characters that I admire to no end!! Ty you two for being so freakin’ epic!! 💖

It’s kinda sweet?? It’s kinda fucked?? It’s kinda insane?? I dunno lmaoo! I just needed this bit OUT 🤣💖

~

A familiar scene.

Blazing light burned from the fluorescent strips overhead, an array of white-hot bars that beat down on the hospital bed as if it were under interrogation; monitors that pulsed in time with a drugged heartbeat; spatters of crimson that stained the walls and sheets like splashes of spilled wine, the air sharp with bloody mementos of fierce but failed resistance.

Muddy eyes studied the sterile enclosure as the Professor made his way inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

Cliiiiccck.

One sound. One second. One breath

It was all it took for His eyes to snap open, the mass of mercury hair and muscle tensing on the mattress, two steel chains rattling with the sudden motion.

Those acidic emeralds landed on his approaching shape like a missile.

Hojo didn’t stop advancing

“…H-he got really messed up in there. Guy doesn’t even recognize me. A-A-And it’s more than just some kind of amnesia. He doesn’t even seem to know that he’s safe—o-o-or that he doesn’t need to attack everyone who tries to come near him. I-I-I just don’t know, man. He’s acting like some kind of animal. O-o-or like he reverted somehow, got all twisted back to the times when… well, when he was with you. I think the labs are all he remembers now. Maybe he’ll even recognize you. Maybe you can bring my friend back.”

His boots crunched on on loose needles, stepped on scattered tools that were lost during one of the worser frays.

Those weapon-like eyes locked onto him.

They narrowed.

Sharpened.

Darkened.

“…Enough, boy.”

His lips pulled back into a snarl.

“I said that’s enough, boy.”

Stopping a small stretch away from the bedside, Hojo watched as those pale fingers curled into talons against the mattress, how he braced himself against his sheer presence — even when unarmed, unthreatening. He had not a single piece of equipment on him: no scalpels, no syringes, no vials. His pockets were empty and his hands were bare; he hadn’t even been the one to sedate him after all these violent fits. He hadn’t even been the one who ordered him to be restrained.

There was nothing for his Sephiroth to be “afraid” of right now.

His gaze lingered on those hooked fingers for a few more beats, an ungloved hand coming to push his slippery glasses back up, crunching down on his lip.

…a worrisome regression indeed.

“Sephiroth. Listen to me: you are not under examination right now. You are not in danger. You are not…”—strange, the way the words tasted acidic, sharp—“…a child anymore.”

The chains only rattled again, tight metal continue to jangle in protest as he took another step closer, those bladed teeth whetting into an unmistakable warning.

Hojo returned a cryptic frown of his own.

Could he not speak? Not communicate properly? Certainly Her cells were catalyzing some form of neurological stress, yes… but to this potent of a degree? Were they somehow interfering with the rest of his system? His brain? And why didn’t he have an answer…?! Nothing—nothing—about Her biology was supposed to warp his basic functioning to this extreme… Unless, or course, he hadn’t run enough tests? Had he not collected enough data? NO, no—utterly preposterous! He had dedicated his entire adult life to this project! Never could he miss such a glaring symptom…!

Somewhere, amid his rapid snowballing of glacial thoughts, the man had found himself stepping closer, closer—looking into those hollow, predatory, thorny eyes for any flicker of the specimen he had spent so carefully designing, searching behind this asphyxiating haze of alien instinct for any crack or clue or…

“Professor! CAREFUL!”

By the time he heard Fair’s panicked voice through the window, the talon had already slashed at him, the world smearing into a dizzying swirl of light and color as the man lost equilibrium and crumpled onto the floor, flesh ripped open—a bloom of blood swelling to the surface before the monstrous sound that had taken over his Sephiroth’s voice even finished reaching his ears, the guttural symphony of saliva and screeching drowning out the violent rattle of the chains, the shrieks of passerby medics as they witnessed the scene from the hallway.

Drowning out anything human.

Anything familiar.

Anything real.

Anything His.

Crumpled on the floor, one hand instinctively covering the infernal burn of his wound, the muddy grew cavernous as he lifted his gaze through the blood-beaded, fractured lenses of his glasses.

He could see his Sephiroth in perfect clarity anyway.

…

A sulky countenance; aching eyes; young fingers biting into each of his arms as the guilt-stricken boy gazed at the floor, the brush of silver bangs spilling over his face and veiling the injured Professor from view.

“…I didn’t mean it,” Sephiroth eventually murmured, clutching his arms tighter as he struggled to watch his caretaker gauze a cut he had inflicted amid his rage. “…I really didn’t, Pr’fessor.”

Was he saying it to avoid the punishment? The pain? The wrath? Glowering at his newly dressed wound, Hojo considered all these options with great care, still holding the crimson-tipped training sword that Sephiroth had turned on him in his anger.

Defiance. Disobedience. Disrespect.

Absolutely unacceptable.

“Pro-o-o-fessor-or…”

And now crying, too.

“I… I’m…”

A child.

“I-I-I… I…”

.

.

.

So how was it that, in those fragile seconds between him turning around and finding that Sephiroth had splintered into a regretful sob, the disdain in his eyes all but drained away?

“I… I didn’t...” Sephiroth cradled himself, the burdened five-year-old struggling to keep his lips from quivering and dam the rivers trickling through his lashes. “I… I didn’t mean…”

How was it that, after spending mere hours training, he felt it was appropriate to resume his training tomorrow?

“Pr-o-o-fess… o…r…”

How was it that, after being betrayed by his own weapon, that he found himself lowering the training sword?

“I’m… I’m sor… r… y…”

And that he found himself lowering to a crouch, the previous scold extinguished from his mind.

“…pro… fessor!”

And that he didn’t resist when the young boy ran into his coat, wrapping his arms around him in a furiously tight embrace, letting himself find solace in the only guardian who had remained by his side since the moment he took his first breath.

“I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t want…”

An anchor. A constant.

“I know, Sephiroth. I know.”

A father.

“…my boy…”

.

.

.

“PROFESSOR…!”

The chains snapped.

Reality flooded his mind.

Sephiroth lunged.

“STOP IT…!”

Fair had intercepted his bestial friend before Sephiroth could reach his neck, the furious whirling of snarls and hisses and slashes all just barely contained by the SOLDIER’s trembling, ever-shredding arms, struggling with all his might to keep his feral ghost at bay.

“STOP IT, SEPH! STOP IT!”

Flailing. Snarls. Splatters.

“HE’S NOT GONNA HURT YOU…!”

Writhing. Hissing. Alarms.

“HE’S NOT GONNA HURT YOU RIGHT NOW…!”

.

.

.

And in the shadow of it all, as he watched his own creation unravel before him, the faintest quiver of the Professor’s frozen lips:

“…son…”

[prismaticpichu]

Another similar nugget that has embedded itself in my mind (while more obvious) is Sephiroth ultimately accepting his alien biology after their inspection of the Nibelheim reactor, where he faces this existential battle in the library with a steadfast Zack by his side and allows himself to break, to feel, to collapse on Zack’s shoulder and be given not a motherly kind of comfort, no, but a fraternal one, shattering in Zack’s arms as the younger SOLDIER murmurs that he isn’t afraid of him because of his DNA, that Sephiroth is still half-human and not any less of the wonderful soul he spent his entire life becoming.

~

“You’re still human, bud… You’re still human. And even if the other half of your blood isn’t, that doesn’t mean the other half is the blood of a monster. You can choose which half to listen to, but… if you ask me, pal, I think the best Sephiroth is the whole package.”

~

Much less of a “you’re not a monster and let’s reject the monster genes inside” and much more “I still love every bit of you: the Jenova cells and the human”… It’s something I often don’t explore bc there’s such a heavy emphasis on Jenova cells being this canonical taint and poison to whoever’s infected with them, so it’s much easier to take the “you’re not a monster! Those cells mean nothing!” approach instead of accepting that he may have the cells of one, but that doesn’t mean he’s the same bloodthirsty creature that eradicated the Cetra. And as absolutely lovely and valid as the aforementioned route is to take while being delulu about fix-its, I also just love the idea of Sephiroth coming to terms that he’s just that—Sephiroth. Part-human and part-alien. Motherless and essentially fatherless, but not without people in his life who love him all the same…

Leaving him to be at peace with himself, his origins, and the cruelties of the experiments that birthed him.

“My best friend’s a kind, brave, intelligent alien… Am I the luckiest guy on this planet or what?”

Because he would’ve never been the same person without them.

And he thinks he likes the person he became.

[prismaticpichu]

[prismaticpichu]

something I often think about is an AU in which Sephiroth’s life as an experiment isn’t one of lies and manipulation and torture. A world where he is told about the Jenova cells, informed of Lucrecia & the sacrifices that were made, and then goes on to ensure that the loss of his mother would never be in vain. A world where he is excited to achieve new records, challenge his endurance, and hit new strides in his everyday training. A world where Hojo commits to offering him affection and praise and where he & his son are always on the same page, striving everyday to make Lucrecia proud. A world where Sephiroth accepts himself as a half-alien science experiment but perhaps still goes on to try to hide his true identity, anxiously unsure of how others will perceive or tolerate his differences—until Genesis & Angeal and/or Zack come to love and accept him just as he is, and so Sephiroth’s origins becomes a sacred secret among them~ ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

obv this would require, like, major characterization shifts and ShinRa wouldn’t be the morally bankrupt monopoly that kinda makes up its identity, but… I dunno!! The idea of sane!Sephiroth embracing his eccentricities is just so tasty to me!! And y’all know that I can never get enough of a wholesome spin on this tragedy parade of a franchise 🤣💖

[prismaticpichu]

occasionally I am struck dumb by the sublime beauty of the world in the small moments, you know?

egg

[prismaticpichu]

I don’t believe I’ve ever shared this on Tumblr lmaooo, but I miiigghhht be reading a lil’ poem for an open mic night at school this week! And as poetry is something I’m still not fully comfy reading yet, I thought it’d be a good idea to rip the band-aid off early on my blog 😂💖

(Tysm for your attention!! Plz accept this bagel for your troubles 🥯)

~

Scrape 🐁

All it takes is a single fall;

a blunder, a slip-up,

and your skin is marked

with something deceptively small.

It's just a little score, you insist;

a vague burn and sting,

too shallow to even bleed;

you pull yourself off the floor, persist.

You carry on with your day;

some nebulous time passes,

and the realization eventually hits you:

the pain hasn't gone away.

A strange, impossible thought;

it's just a meager scrape!

You grit your teeth, endure the burn,

that has grown into a blaze.

And much like famished fire,

brushed off and neglected,

the flames will only roar louder, hotter

demanding to be admired.

Because the truth is,

and it's not disdainful,

that no matter how seemingly slight,

a cut doesn't need to draw blood,

for it to be considered painful...

And that is alright.

[prismaticpichu]

@altocat now he’s gonna try ‘em ALL

(he is overwhelmed and screaming on the inside)

Inspired by this lovely post!!

[prismaticpichu]

HELP why is that giving me the energy of a bored af MIi

On one hand, Sephiroth is an actual nightmare fuel character and any time he shows up during the OG and Remake games it's ALWAYS a stress-inducing moment because of how violent and terrifying we know he can be.

But on the other hand, his official character profile pic is so chill and normal lmao

He doesn't even look particularly deranged or intimidating. He looks pretty calm. Almost expectant. Like buddy, do you need something? Need a snacky-snack? I think I have some leftover cheez-its around here somewhere if you're interested.

[prismaticpichu]

I'd guess that you're a very upbeat person who really values the close bonds between people

Ding, ding, ding!!!! We got a winner!!! ✅🤣

I like to think of myself as pretty upbeat hehehe, even if my brain tries to weigh me down sometimes with its own baggage of ugly emotions. But I really do take pride in the fact that most people I meet do say I radiate a positive aura <,333 It’s genuinely so incredible knowing that I’m able to still be a pleasant presence in the face of everything that my mind is always screaming at me lmaoooo!!! So I’m extra honored to hear it from you, too, my friendo!!

As for the latter bit: you’re absolutely spot on lol!! As someone who grew up in an incredibly tumultuous family and have seen firsthand how relationships can be broken, tainted, and shredded beyond repair, I guess it only makes sense that I love me a good representation of a strong and unwavering bond <,333 The kind of bond where there are differences, where people do fight—but they work through that turmoil via communication and honesty and ultimately come out stronger for it <,333 It’s definitely one of the major reasons I adore the idea of Zack & Sephiroth having an incredibly venomous start/are nearly torn apart after Modeoheim but are able to eventually learn through assertive communication that their pained is shared, that they can both offer something in the relationship and be there for the other when needed. And that’s something I’m sure is very apparent through my floofball fics shdhdhdh 💖💖💖

And while I can’t say I’ve ever experienced a bond that is strong enough to overcome alien mind control, there is still a lot of catharsis and reflection I have in those kinds of headcanons dhdhdhdh!!!

[prismaticpichu]

I would guess that you aren't really an angst writer usually.

( @izunias-meme-hole )

Ahhh!! Very insightful of you, friendo!! :3ccc

….but what if I told ya that I actually do engage with a lot of angst hehehe?? Specifically through a lot of personal poetry I have, which delves into a lot of mental health struggles I’ve experienced/ways to portray the reality of their brutality through pure writing and rhythm??? 😈💖 (not to mention one of the longest drafts I’ve had is an original horror/murder mystery hehhehe!~)

But you’re nowhere near wrong, either!!! I tend to still lace in some glimmer of hope in there somewhere—may it be through trying to make it cathartic for anyone who reads it or simply trying to illustrate that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel! <,333 So while I tend to pour a lot of sugar-sweetness into my fics, I can be quite the gremlin with some other pieces!! 🤣💖 (I like to call that part of myself “PragmaticPichu” dhdhdhdhhd)

[prismaticpichu]

What would you guess about me, my life, personality, etc. based on my writing?

[prismaticpichu]

Lmaooooo!!! 🤣💖

You KNOW he’s making a million substitutions and changes to the side dishes and appetizers and drinks

Genesis: I’ll have mine well-done, please

Angeal: Medium rare for me

Sephiroth: I’d like mine raw, please

Waiter: …

Waiter: Do you mean “rare”, sir?

Sephiroth: No, no—I’d like mine raw, please. I’ll take your freshest slab.

Sephiroth:

Sephirawth 🥩 💖

[prismaticpichu]

Those mumsy cells need SUSTENANCE in its purest! ✨✨✨

Genesis: I’ll have mine well-done, please

Angeal: Medium rare for me

Sephiroth: I’d like mine raw, please

Waiter: …

Waiter: Do you mean “rare”, sir?

Sephiroth: No, no—I’d like mine raw, please. I’ll take your freshest slab.

Sephiroth:

Sephirawth 🥩 💖

[prismaticpichu]

Genesis: I’ll have mine well-done, please

Angeal: Medium rare for me

Sephiroth: I’d like mine raw, please

Waiter: …

Waiter: Do you mean “rare”, sir?

Sephiroth: No, no—I’d like mine raw, please. I’ll take your freshest slab.

Sephiroth:

Sephirawth 🥩 💖

[prismaticpichu]

Salty yesterday I saw a dog that legit looked like Potassium and I did a double take lmao

You gotta watch her. She has obtained teleportation powers 😈

Today is Chicken Day -- a glorious and torturous day where Potassium's humans buy a rotisserie chicken and debone it, resulting in HOURS of sad floor sitting and DELICIOUS heaps of chicken skin for dog.

I am not surprised she can teleport, she already has telepathy down to a science. Not a day goes by where I don't think about perhaps sharing a snack with a furry friend.