#brain-dysfunction chemicals

[underwhelmingalchemist]

While I do understand and appreciate the intention behind those posts that are like "you can't even name five female characters you enjoy", I have to admit, I every time one of them comes up, I have a moment of floundering panic of, "Oh my god, I can't name any. Do I secretly hate women? Am I a secret misogynist?" and then have to remind myself that I also couldn't name five ice cream flavors or US states on the spot either. If someone came up to me on the street and asked me to name one (1) woman, I would probably just stare at them in panic and then blurt out some shit like "Susan"

[kiragecko]

[Image shows the tags,

#mental health #ooh interesting # ... how does it work? #I feel like I need a bulleted list on How To Bask In Your Accomplishments

End ID.]

If you have achieved something, please remember to observe a mandatory period of basking in the warm glow of your achievement like a lizard on a stone, lest you teach your brain that effort is futile, actually, because it didn't get to enjoy its happy chemicals, so, naturally, nothing good ever comes of trying. (And no, avoiding punishment is not a reward!)

I recommend, like, 5% of basking time in relation to whatever time you invested into achieving the thing minimum. And if you can't make your own bask, friend-brought is fine (= tell your friends!).

[victorzsasz]

Hate how I only feel like Im mentally stable and able to get my life together is when Im loaded. I wish things stayed open later. That or I should start daydrinking

[ipatrichor]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Diluc & Kaeya (Genshin Impact) Characters: Diluc (Genshin Impact), Kaeya (Genshin Impact) Additional Tags: Rescue, Light Angst, i think it's light? it's mostly the Implications, Mystery Summary:

Lowering his weapon, Diluc turns to face them. Now that the blur of combat is over, he can begin to make out the details of their appearance, and the words of thanks die on his lips as he takes in the sight of what can only be described as a creature made of ice.

It’s mostly turned away from him, head turned to the side just enough for a glowing blue light reminiscent of an eye to be visible. Its body seems to be made entirely of ice despite its fluid moment, and there’s no hiding the danger posed by the large claws and sharp crystalline tail.

.

or, when in an unfavorable position diluc is saved by an icy creature strangely reminiscent of his missing brother

[thebibliosphere]

Wait, PMDD and GERD are connected to MCAS? Because I have both of those. Would you please talk a little more about that?

They can be connected to MCAS, yes.

If you google it, the current AI answer will tell you that mast cells are present in the esophagus, which is true, but only because mast cells are present in every part of the body.

What would be more helpful to say is that the esophagus is lined with histamine receptors, and when these receptors are activated it leads to chronic inflammation caused by several mast cell mediators which can make you more prone to acid damage.

Mast cells also release chemicals that can cause the stomach to overproduce acid, as well as relax the esophageal sphincter, which makes it easier for the acid to wash back up into the esophagus, causing further damage.

This is why some of the treatment aimed at GERD is actually antihistamines like Famotidine (Pepcid), which are type 2 histamine blockers, though I’ve yet to meet a GERD patient whose doctor has explained to them why this antihistamine works to relieve their GERD. The answer is mast cells.

(Note: MCAS is a multi system spectrum disorder that requires multiple factors to be present. Having some mild form of mast cell instability is actually far more common that is actually realized even by the broader medical community, with mast cell dysfunction now being linked to things like fibromyalgia, IBS, endometriosis, etc and I suspect in the next few decades, research is going to pivot drastically to focusing on mast cell treatment as a form of prevention instead of treating these disorders as things with no known cause and only symptom management.

My point of this whole section is to say: if you have GERD, that doesn’t automatically mean you have MCAS. You might have some form of mast cell instability that is causing issues, but so does a significant chunk of the population. It just isn’t discussed or recognized by current medical literature, though that is thankfully changing. Slowly, but the change is there.)

For PMDD there’s unsurprisingly a limited amount of research but the EDS clinic page on it is fairly comprehensive. Basically, hormonal fluctuations linked to the pre-menstrual stage of the menstrual cycle can prime mast cells to overreact, liberating several mast cell inflammatory chemicals but chief among them histamine which has been shown to have an effect on pain perception but also mood stability. There’s very little official studies related to histamine and PMDD, but looking at other studies such as the effect of histamine on major depressive disorder, you can sort of cobble together a bigger picture of how mast cells affect mental health and how hormonal fluctuations may impact this. Among the mast cell syndrome community you’ll sometimes see people talking about ‘masto rage’ or ‘histo rage’ and that’s because excess histamine in the brain can lead to extreme anger that can seem to come out of nowhere.

For me, this primarily happens with my PMDD and it feels like someone dropped a match into a barrel of napalm. My entire brain becomes a fucking mess that has gotten better with mast cell treatment, but not entirely eradicated.

This may be why some individuals who experience PMDD are self reporting relief from taking a histamine blocker like Famotidine during the luteal phase of their cycle.

Again, having these conditions doesn’t mean you have MCAS, but it can be an indication of some mast cell fuckery, especially if you have multiple things going on at once.

It wasn’t until I got diagnosed by my specialist that all these seemingly random unconnected disorders that I struggled with for nearly my entire life made sense because their primary instigation in my body was my untreated mast cell disorder. Everything from the chronic acid reflux that started as a child right down to my interstitial cystitis which started the moment my menstrual cycle kicked in at age 11.

Honestly it’s all been down hill since then.

Anyway, I hope this was useful.

[transmutationisms]

this is probably shaped by my limited frame of reference, but im really fascinated by witnessing the real-time development of adhd as a diagnosis. people attribute so many symptoms to it now or maybe they always did? i was wondering if you have any thoughts on what is the use of adhd specifically as a category within psychiatry. I'm esl so sorry for any confusing wording

no you're right imo; diagnostic categories are always somewhat in flux ofc but ADHD is one that has seen a particularly pronounced shift in the last couple decades. obviously this is multifactorial but my observation goes something along these lines:

'hyperactivity' has been dx'd in children since about the 1950s (also when Ritalin hit the market) but the ADHD dx doesn't really take off until the 90s (also when Adderall, a 2nd-gen reformulation of the 'obesity' drug Obetrol, hit the market). so, it's not all that surprising that 20 years later you see increased patient awareness of the diagnosis, increased popular interest in it, and shifting / expanding ideas of what it means and what ADHD 'is'. it's a relatively young dx.

part of the reason it's young is because it's basically a 'biopsychiatric' dx, meaning it diagnoses certain behaviours as being a 'brain problem' rather than having social causes or context. in practice this is complicated because psychs do use pharmacological approaches in conjunction with psychodynamic ones all the time; nevertheless, the central promise of DSM ADHD and its pharmaceutical treatments has consistently been that the ADHD subject has a physiological, neurological disorder / dysfunction / aberration, and that the drug treatments on the market fix it. that none of this is actually empirically supported is conceptually inconvenient and entrenched by the research process.

the biopsychiatric narrative is worth paying attention to because the context here is one in which it has become commonly accepted that behavioural 'disorders' and affective distress of various kinds can be, basically, either of pure biological origin, or else Your Fault. in the case of childhood hyperactivity, Your Fault historically also included Your Mother's Fault; part of the reason many mothers embraced Ritalin in the 50s and 60s was because the proffered pharmaceutical narrative explicitly challenged the idea that these mothers had done something 'wrong' to result in their (mostly) sons exhibiting disruptive and hyperactive behaviour.

this dichotomy of biology vs personal failing is very overtly present in quite a bit of discourse around ADHD today. if it's my brain being 'wrong' or different, then it's not something I've done wrong but a disease with a simple chemical fix. in this context I don't think it's surprising at all that a lot of popular and patient conceptions of ADHD have seen a considerable widening over the past few decades. often people like to blame this on pharmaceutical companies, and it's true that industry benefits from these discourses and frequently invests in them (eg, via instruments like ADDitude mag). however, that's a pretty simplistic explanation on its own and doesn't really account for the ways in which patients and potential patients also find this diagnostic category personally useful, for reasons ranging from identity-formation to the desire to access prescription amphetamines. ADHD increasingly shows up as a biologised explanation for behaviours ranging from 'eating too many sweets' to 'postural sway' and so on. you can see in such examples how invoking the idea of an aberrant ADHD brain is both reassuring to people who have been made to feel ashamed of certain behaviours, and provides a sense of shared identity and community with others.

all of this is to say: I don't find it surprising at all when I see a relative broadening of notions of ADHD, almost always expressed in biological terms (the 'ADHD brain' operates differently, 'seeks dopamine', causes this or that). ADHD is in some ways a particularly blatant distillation of this general trend in popular psychiatric discourses, for reasons relating to expectations about childhood and child behaviour, and the historical and present relationship between the ADHD label and the regulation of amphetamines. but much of what's happening with ADHD in terms of popular discourses about it can also be seen with many, many other psychiatric diagnoses, to varying extents and in various ways.

my experience writing about ADHD on this website leads me to close by explicitly stating the following: I do not think any ADHD behaviours / symptoms are people's 'fault' or an individual failing; I do not think using drugs for any reason is morally bad or needs to be justified; the fact that I do not think ADHD is a 'brain disease' does not mean I think people are 'making it up' or exaggerating wrt any difficulties they experience personally, professionally, emotionally, &c.

[adventuringblind]

Medication Mishaps

Landoscar x Reader

Genre: Fluff and Crack

Summary: When a mix-up in meds leaves her without any, Lando and Oscar are there to her navigate without them.

Warnings:

Notes: for @norizznorris. Sorry I don't do male readers! Regardless, I hope this is what you wanted! :)

Side Note: This one made me laugh the entire time while writing it. My fiancé is unmedicated and very high on the ADHD spectrum. Every day is an adventure!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Ah, the joys of being neurodivergent. When somehow the world is to much and simultaneously to little. When the nagging impulsive thoughts and continues need for caffeine aren't enough, then the interests that lay dormant for years come back swinging; upset they've been neglected for so long.

Medication helps. Which - of course it does - it's engineered brain chemicals in the form of a chalky pill designed to help someone function in a world where only one kind of brain is excepted. It's better than it was, the world has come further in recent years.

yet here she is, taking her last pill from the bottle. A little piece in her cries knowing she'll have to go pick up her new meds today. The pharmacy feels like to much and she'd rather lay in bed and give into the executive dysfunction. Then she remembers she's flying with Lando and Oscar to their race tomorrow.

With that thought in mind, she groans and hauls herself out of bed. The boys are doing factory work today and won't be back until later. Plenty of time to come home and waste away the hours in bed and pray her energy comes back.

~~~~~

She lied to herself earlier. Any optimism for the day has just disappeared.

"What do you mean you don't have my meds?"

"There was a mix-up with the orders, but we'll have them in a few days." The pharmacist gives her a sheepish smile.

She just sighs and turns on the balls of her feet. How she's going to tell her boys, she has no idea yet. The insecurity of them not wanting her around the paddock because of in burns in the back of her mind.

She still has today at least. Maybe she'll just ride it out and not tell them.

That plan fails miserably the second they walk into the flat. The sight of her visibly distressed on the couch alerts them that something is wrong.

The sit down on either side of her. The question trying to escape their mouths. She beats them to it. "There was a mix-up with my meds. I won't have them until after we get back."

"And we'll help you manage, yeah? You'd do the same for us."

"Lan... she has done the same for you, like, daily."

"Rude!"

~~~~~

Sometimes, she's convinced she lives on a different planet entirely. Like the brain and body she has are simply not meant to be here and there must have been a mistake with the storks.

Lando hands her a Redbull, courtesy of Max since he has to many. "I figured this might help?" Seeing as she nearly just threw hands with whoever was chewing unnecessarily loudly, caffeine might help.

She looks at Lando and Oscar, between the three of them, there are seven drinks. Only one of which is the Aussie's. "Oscar is being boring again."

the man in question huffs. "Water is good for you."

"But it's wretched to taste sometimes."

Lando nods at her in agreement. "See Oscar, boring."

"Nothing is ever boring with you two."

~~~~~

The beginning wasn't bad. Not like it is right now with her brain only wanting to do one specific things, she hasn't remember to eat since early this morning, and the tag on her shirt makes her want to pull her skin off.

Oscar looks at her curled up in his drivers room with a horrendous amount of care and sympathy. He slots in next to her and leans his head against the wall. "Hard day?"

"I need like - five pounds of dino nuggies and a nap."

"Anything I can do to help right now? We'll work on food when Lando is done."

She curls up in Oscar's lap like a cat. The lack of regulated sleep finally catching up to her. She's on the verge of sleep when Lando busts through the door yelling about something.

She throws a pillow at him in annoyance. "You owe me food."

Lando pauses. "That sounds brilliant."

Oscar shakes his head in defeat later that night as Lando gradually sneaks food off her plate and pretends they can't see him. If he's not caught then it didn't happen and Jon can't get mad at him.

~~~~~

She hasn't stopped talking with Lando for the last two hours. What exactly they've been going on about, she has no idea at this point. Their original conversation led to rabbit trails and other distractions that got in the way. The original story now long forgotten as they discuss the possibilities for new shoes.

Her phone dings, an automated message alerting her to her refilled meds. She shows Lando in excitement. The joys of functioning like a human again are nearly in her grasp.

Lando and Oscar both look at her in amusement. The latter has been using their conversation as an excuse to read. He sets his book down, a look she hasn't seen before crossing his features.

"Have you ever thought what it would be like if you didn't have to take meds?"

Lando shoots him a nasty glare. "Oi, she can't help-"

"Not what I meant." The Aussie crashes onto the bed with them, book now tucked away. "I just mean that having a different kind of brain shouldn't be such a difficult thing for the world to cope with. But the second someone is different-" He looks at Lando. "-Like they struggle with reading or processing information." Then he turns to her. "Or they struggle to with focusing and sensory things. They are ready to create some kind of fix to make those brains work like theirs." The genuine concern and sadness from him is almost heartbreaking.

"In a perfect world, yes. For now though, I think me and Lando can both settle for having someone who cares as much as you do."

"Just wish I could do more."

Lando hums and, quite literally, rolls over onto Oscar. "Just like our best is enough, so is yours."

"However, if the world could provide me with free drinks, I wouldn't be complaining."

Oscar chuckles and drags her closer despite Lando's weight on him. "I'll make a note of it for when I become ruler of the world."

"You never said you were planning that!"

"It's been my secret plan this whole time."

"... It's always the quiet ones."

[seasickzig]

Executive dysfunction caused by Autism makes me so mad.

People always talk about it with ADHD, and I always hear people being grateful that their executive dysfunction is fixed with meds.

I cannot be fixed.

And executive dysfunction isn’t just the “Go go chemical” that allows you to get started/follow through on projects, it also impacts your ability to organize thoughts, make plans, prioritize tasks, manage time, and make decisions.

I cannot get out of bed. It has been four hours since I woke up. Meds will not fix this.

I cannot do chores. I must be prompted. Meds will not fix this.

I cannot make plans. I’m autistic and NEED plans, but I can’t make them. Meds will not fix this.

I cannot think straight. Every thought echoes in my head with no conclusion. Meds will not fix this.

I cannot make decisions. People ask me things and my brain goes blank. Meds will not fix this.

I cannot do anything for myself. Executive dysfunction has stolen control from me. Meds will not fix this.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Could you ever see Ford getting into a sorta DDLG relationship with Reader? Ford doesn’t need to be referred to as daddy or anything like that, it’s just more or less the nature of the relationship

thank u for asking!! seriously. made my brain work lol because ive thought about this too. honestly a lot. and i still don’t have a clear answer

part of the reason it’s so hard to figure out is because ddlg, when we’re talking about the actual dynamic, not just internet kinky stuff, is kinda complicated. it's deeply psychological, for me its about vulnerability and being taken care of in a very dependency-coded way. and with Ford, you can’t talk about dynamics like that without talking about trauma, guilt, repression, and the constant tension between his need for control and his belief that he’s fundamentally not safe to be close to

ill hide it under the cut because it's long

i believe Ford is extremely caring. intensely so. he’s protective over those he loves and absolutely has the capacity to caretake. i mean, he’s the kind of person who would research your triggers. who would actually read articles about your mental health condition and then print them out and annotate them. he’s the kind of person who would wake you up with a glass of water and your meds without making it a big deal. who would block off certain lab sections just because “i don’t want you around the chemicals, i’m not risking that” he’s cautious and self-sacrificing and..... yeah, really tender under the layers of anxiety. he’s not cold, i don’t see him so. maybe really bad with his feelings and explaining his emotions, but he’s not THAT distant emotionally, especially not when he really loves someone, especially OLDER Ford, post-weirdmageddon, when he's finally trying to be in the world, near his brother and family, instead of just run from it.

i think, Ford is not okay with being in that role CONSCIOUSLY. let me explain!! because deep down, he doesn’t trust himself with power after nearly destroying the whole world (not his fault, but he still blames himself for it). he has done damage with it to the people he loves so much. to Stan. to McGucket. to the entire world, as he thinks of course, because of weirdmaggedon.

BUT, and this is important, if we’re talking about a dynamic where it’s very much care-focused - yeah. Ford WOULD do things like make sure you ate. he’d pack your bag if you had a big day and he knows your executive dysfunction’s acting up. he’d gently push your forehead and go “bed. now. no, i don’t care that your doomscrolling is ‘important,’ come on.” he’d tuck you in and grumble about you using your phone a lot. and he’d never call himself “daddy” that's right, but he’d say things like ”come here, sweetheart. sit still for me”, ”i’ll take care of that.”, “you don’t have to think about it right now, i’ve got you.”, ”talk to me about it” and etc

and i 1000% believe there would be days where he needs to be the one taken care of. like where he goes into a shut-down state and doesn’t eat and you have to drag him out of his work chair. and if the dynamic is mutual and based on trust and respect rather than roles, i think Ford would exist in that kind of relationship absolutely normally. it just wouldn’t be ddlg in the way most people imagine. like sexualized or through roleplay that’s too close to the thing he fears he failed at most, being responsible for someone’s wellbeing

so yeah.... :') i’m still not sure. it's just Ford is that kind of character you want to trust, you want him to take care of you especially if you're into older men lol. and i think he wants that too, to take care of someone, he just doesn’t always think he deserves it because of his past

i hope that didn’t sound weird by the way. and yeah, not my final answer either. i love getting philosophical about this stuff. i still think about it a lot. AND IF YOU HAVE YOUR OWN THOUGHTS I’D GENUINELY LOVE TO READ THEM <3

[drawingrainbowsonthewalls]

Episodic Water Dependency [Disorder] [EpWD or EWDD]

Definition: A disorder characterized by having episodes of extreme water dependency that cause discomfort, distress, stress, and/or depressive thoughts, feelings, or actions. These emotions often result in impulsive or compulsive actions in order to be in, near, or consume water/another liquid. [this could also be used as a symptom or aspect of another disorder]

[tw: mentions sh and suicide below]

[Ones Dependent Liquid or DL may vary however this Disorder was made with water in mind… you could call it ELDD, Episodic Liquid Dependency Disorder if you wish or if that fits better]

Symptoms/Criteria:

      1) Distress, discomfort, dysfunction, stress, or dysphoria when one has not been in, near, or in—some cases—consumed water/their DL[dependent liquid] recently.

      2) Having a strong connection to water or your DL[dependent liquid] that may intertwine with various aspects of ones identity.

      3) during an episode being unable to function/experiencing a difficulty in functioning when one has not come in contact with water or their DL[dependent liquid] for short or extended periods of time [this can be as long as a month or as short as a few minutes].

      4) [If one experiences sensory differences] having ones sensory issues get worse during episodes where they have not had contact with water or their DL for an extended or short time. 

      6) experiencing depressive episodes, suicidal and/or self-harm induced thoughts/actions, or similar during/as a result of water dependency episodes. One could also turn to water/their DL for the answer/solution to problems. 

      7) Having these symptoms and experiences be more extreme than typical water/liquid dependency. 

      8) noticing episodic patterns for at least 3 months; an episode, worsening of symptoms, or development of this disorder may occur for a variety of reasons such as external factors like stress or fear as well as internal factors such as self-esteem, brain chemical levels, and/or other mental health problems. 

      9) Fear or distress caused by being dirty or feeling like your dirty even if you’ve recently showered, bathed, or washed off.

Possible causes, triggers, and risks:

      1) The cause/causes for this disorder are unknown however possible causes may include:

           - Neglect

           - Being without proper ways to clean/clean oneself fro extended periods of time

           - Low-self-esteem or poor mental health

           - Paranoia or a fear of germs

      2) You may be more at risk if you have another mental health disorder/syndrome such as Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, OCD, DPD, PTSD, etc. etc.

      3) Common triggers for an episode include but are not limited to; overwhelming / intense emotions, stressful and / or traumatic events, being away from running water / water / their DL, being unable to wash yourself, etc.

      4) Some of the possible risks that come with EpWD[D] is:

            -  Becoming overly dependent on water/your DL and running the risk of it becoming an addiction.

            -  Being unable to function or get work done because of distress, stress, or discomfort surrounding feeling messy/unkempt  -OR- being unable to work or function because you’re too caught up cleaning yourself and surroundings. 

            -  A disconnection in relationships as they don’t/wouldn’t understand and/or feeling too stress/distressed/uncomfortable to make strong bonds and connections

This term can be used by anyone // we have no DNI so neither do our coins // please follow your own DNI

As long as you use this term in good faith [genuinely, not as a joke or troll] we will have no problems as it is not our place to tell you what to do.

if this term or something similar has been coined prior to this consider it a recoin / redesign as we often do not know or realize

[gullemec]

Deep Blue

Golden Cage - Chapter Eight

series masterlist ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: You do your best to return to the life you knew before the Boys. Spoiler alert: it doesn't work.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunkenness

Please let me know if I missed any tags! <3

WC: 5.4k

A/N: The beginning of the end my friends, next chapter is the last in this series!! There will be an epilogue too :)

Stuff it down. Keep it inside. Just get through the day.

You arrive at the office on Monday dressed in a simple, comfortable turtleneck and slacks, the kind of outfit you used to wear every day back at Cambridge when you were a student trying to impress your classmates and appear effortlessly intellectual. It’s cozy, functional, and a marked improvement from the leather and frills Monica deemed appropriate for business casual, but there’s something about it now that feels a little too constricting. It’s as though you’ve been swallowed by the corporate machine, and the longer you wear this uniform, the more it starts to feel like you’re becoming the very thing you swore you never would.

Stepping into the lab, you slip on the standard issue lab coat like all the other interns. It’s a sea of white in here. Sterile, impersonal, and oddly comforting in its predictability. The sharp scent of chemicals, the quiet hum of machines, the click-clack of keyboards, it all feels like the backdrop to a new life. Safe, neat, and clinical. You also make sure your shoes are sensible, a modest pair of loafers. Flat, comfortable, and as unremarkable as possible. You don’t need to be noticed here. Not by anyone. Not right now.

You stay long after the sun sets, the office lighting flickering faintly as your fingers blur over your keyboard, typing emails, drafting reports, revising presentations. You dive into every team meeting, even when the topics bore you to tears, volunteering for the projects no one else wants. You’re determined to be indispensable, to blend in, to prove you belong. But each task, each hour spent at that desk, feels like one more stitch in the fabric of a life you know you don’t want.

Then there’s Adam.

You’ve known him for a while, but now you see him differently, less as a begrudging ally and more as a distraction. He tries to take over tasks from you, attempts to save you from the workload. It makes you bristle. You don’t need him to rescue you, not when you’re perfectly capable of handling it on your own. You push back hard, asserting yourself in a way that surprises you as much as it does him.

“I’ve got this,” you remind him, voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. “You’re more than welcome to watch, though.”

Adam seems genuinely impressed by the newfound confidence you’re exuding, and you notice how his gaze lingers a little longer than it should. It’s that moment when you realize he’s seeing you in a different light, not just as a colleague, but as something more.

He surprises you even further when, at the end of the week, he asks you out for drinks. For a moment, you hesitate, unsure of how to respond. But then,  you surprise yourself, agreeing. It’s a small rebellion, a fleeting decision that feels more like a reflex than a choice.

It’s easier to fill the void than it is to feel its emptiness, you think, as you step into the world of after-work drinks and small talk. It’s something to do. Someone to be.

The next month drifts by in a fog. Think tanks, board meetings, and endless brainstorming sessions. You read emails three, four, five times before their meaning finally sinks in, your mind too foggy to absorb the words the first few times around. The words seem to slide off your brain, slipping into that place where the unimportant things go, things you’ll deal with later. Your father’s daily lunch visits become a constant, his chatter a background noise that’s easy to tune out. He’s talking about Vought deals, ad campaigns, and erectile dysfunction pill ad campaigns with The Deep as the spokesperson. It all sounds like white noise, a cacophony of things you’re supposed to care about but simply... don’t.

Slowly, like a drop of water sinking into a sponge, you start to blend into this world. Inch by inch, you learn the insider language—the jargon of stock prices and product launches, of investor meetings and quarterly reports. You smile at the right moments, nod when necessary, and pretend to care about things that mean absolutely nothing to you. You even go on coffee dates with Monica and Ashley, who are seemingly best friends again after their rocky patch. You let Adam take you out on a second date. You don't put out. 

Your phone becomes a constant source of anxiety. It buzzes almost daily with phone calls, usually from Hughie or Frenchie or Annie, but some from MM too. Never from Butcher, and you’re not sure how you feel about that. You can't bring yourself to silence the calls, choosing instead to stare the screen down until the vibrations die, a Missed Call notification popping up. You don't feel good about ignoring them but, truth be told, you don't know what you would say to them. You don't know what they might say, what Butcher told them to explain your sudden absence. You're angry and hurt and confused. You figure if it's important they'll come find you. 

The hours blend together as you move through this charade, a ghost moving on autopilot. At the end of the day, you retreat to your office, a small space you had cleared on the twentieth floor of the CytoGenix headquarters. It’s not the penthouse suite, but it’s a far cry from the cramped, open-concept, hot-desking hellhole you’d been relegated to on the sixth floor with the other interns. You had half expected a fight with your father over it—he’s protective, maybe even territorial about office spaces—but when you asked for the office, he grinned and agreed without hesitation, as though he knew this day was coming.

“I knew you’d come around eventually," he'd said. You just nodded absently, feeling nothing.

It hadn't initially been your intention to become more like your father when you'd asked for the office, but it seemed to happen that way anyway. In truth, you'd wanted the office so you could conduct V2 research in privacy, away from the prying eyes of other interns. But now you find yourself more comfortable hunched over your desk than you do curled in your bed.  There’s something oddly soothing about being surrounded by papers, lab reports, and research data. It’s productive. It’s linear. It makes sense in a way your personal life never has.

The thought of Billy Butcher lurks in the back of your mind like a bruise that won’t heal, but you push it away. Focus. Research. That’s what matters now.

Another month passes, the days slipping by unnoticed. The office becomes your home. You don’t go as far as installing a bed, but you do get a comfy couch. It becomes your refuge, the place where you lie after long, soul-sucking nights in the lab. And after one particularly late night spent celebrating a completed project, you allow Adam to touch you on it, hands roaming freely under the guise of post-scotch intimacy. You want his touch to erase your hurt. You endure his too-polite kisses and the hesitant way his hand gestures around your skirt’s hemline. Not because you enjoy them, but because you want to feel something other than numb.

It doesn’t work. It never does.

You try to keep up with the location of the remaining V2 vials, through good old-fashioned eavesdropping and snooping, but without access to the bugs it's difficult. Everyone is understandably tight-lipped now, like even uttering the name of the substance is forbidden. All you know is that the vials are inside of the CytoGenix highrise, and that they're under constant surveillance. In a building this large and complex, they could be anywhere. This doesn't stop you from spending every night looking for them. 

It's on a night like this that you find yourself falling asleep at your desk, eyelids impossibly heavy as you pore over yet another lab report, computer monitor displaying old security footage from the lab. More wasted hours accruing useless information. 

Frustrated and exhausted, you shuffle to the ensuite bathroom.

You shake yourself awake, the cool water splashing across your face doing little to revive you. But when you look into the mirror, you don’t recognize the woman staring back at you. The tight bun, the purpled circles under your eyes, the dullness in your gaze. 

You decide to call it a night, the lure of your bed too strong to resist. The prospect of collapsing into your memory foam mattress, soft in all the ways the office couch isn’t, feels like a small blessing. You’re exhausted enough to think you might fall asleep instantly, no risk of being left alone with your thoughts.

You lean against the cold metal of the elevator wall as it descends twenty floors. The hum of the cables is oddly comforting, a steady rhythm beneath your thoughts, guiding you down to the underground parking lot.

The feeling of being watched hits you before your eyes land on him. You’re not surprised to see him. Your body tenses, but your steps don’t falter. He stands there, a dark figure leaning casually against your car, the yellow overhead lights casting sharp shadows over his face.

You should have been expecting this.

“MM,” you greet him, your voice flat, drained. You can’t hide the bitterness in your tone. You want to feel some excitement, to run and throw your arms around him like you would have before all this. Still, he hurt you too. There's no way he didn't know about the bugs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He doesn’t flinch, but his eyes are searching you in that way he does when he knows something's off. He pushes off the car and takes a step toward you.

“You haven’t been answering anyone’s calls,” he says, his tone clipped but not angry. “Anyone’s, including mine.”

You don’t have the energy to pretend anymore. “I’m not up for this, MM. Not right now.” You pull your keys from your pocket and start unlocking the driver’s side. “I have nothing new to report, despite my best efforts. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I don’t care about that,” MM says, stepping closer. His voice softens just a little. “We were worried about you.”

The laugh that escapes you is sharp and bitter. “Worried? Who’s worried, MM? The guy who bugged my apartment, or the people I thought were my friends but never bothered to tell me I was being watched?”

His eyes fall, a flash of regret crossing his face. He looks almost guilty. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. It made sense at the time. But… You’ve proven yourself. I trust you.”

The words hit you in a soft place you thought for sure had become unreachable. A lump forms in your throat, and you fight it down, furious that you’re about to break in front of him. Anger floods your chest to mask the hurt, and you force it out through gritted teeth.

“Thanks, but I can't say I reciprocate the feeling. You can let Butcher know I'm still making myself useful.”

MM’s gaze sharpens at your words, but he doesn’t argue. “Butcher doesn’t know I’m here.”

You blink, taken off guard. He sees it in your eyes and adds quickly, “He didn't want me to involve you.”

The mention of Butcher stabs at you, even more so that he's still trying to protect you from this. Like he has any right. MM doesn’t let you dwell on it.

“He’s not doing well, just so you know.”

Your stomach drops, the cold anxiety crawling up your spine. You nod, keeping your face a mask.

“Okay.”

Good, you want to say. Neither am I.

You chew the inside of your cheek, biting back any sign of weakness.

MM steps forward, his tone changing—more earnest now, but still carefully guarded. “I’m sorry. I can’t change what happened. But you’ve proven yourself. We all trust you now. And as long as you want it, there’ll always be a place for you with the Boys.”

His words hit like a sharp pang in your chest. You exhale slowly, holding yourself together as the weight of it settles. You’ve proven yourself. The words mean more than he could know, but they also come with their own pain.

You finally speak, the air thick with emotions you don’t want to feel. “I appreciate that, but... I just can’t go there right now. I can’t be around him.”

He takes a moment before responding, his voice low and careful. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Butcher. But right now, the Boys need you. We need you.”

You shake your head, tears welling at the edge of your eyes as you struggle to keep your voice steady. You can’t let him see how much this cuts. “I’m sure you guys have it under control.”

You climb into the driver's seat, ready to end the conversation. But before you can slam the door shut, MM’s voice cuts through the quiet night, commanding and sharp.

“We know where the vials are.”

You freeze, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. You turn back to him, disbelief clouding your thoughts. “What?”

MM steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leans in. “They’re in your dad’s office.”

Silence.

A beat passes, then another. Your breath hitches in your throat, and without thinking, you reach over the center console and unlock the passenger door.

“Get in.”

~~~

An hour later you're across from MM in a booth at a diner overlooking the Hudson. He’s got a plate piled high with pancakes, and you watch him shovel them into his mouth with the enthusiasm of a man who hasn't seen food in days. Meanwhile, you nurse your mug of coffee, the warmth washing over your face as the steam rises.

He looks up at you like he’s just remembered you're there. “You sure you don't want any?” he asks, gesturing to the half-eaten stack. His voice is a bit muffled by the pancakes.

“No, I'm fine,” you respond, dryly. The sight of him devouring food like it’s the last meal on Earth doesn’t really amuse you right now.

You sip the last of the hot black liquid before the exhausted looking waitress offers you a refill. 

“Sorry,” MM says through the final bites of his pancakes, his voice more apologetic than usual. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He rolls his eyes. “Butcher’s got us running circles, following every goddamn CytoGenix van out of their HQ. He’s convinced the vials are being moved somewhere. Hell, I’ve been chasing vans all day.”

He’s exasperated. “Do you know how many goddamn vans leave that place?!”

You can’t help but agree. Butcher's being reckless. This isn't good. 

MM continues, his tone darker now. “And it’s not just the vans. He was this close to breaking into your dad’s office before we stopped him.”

The mention of your dad sends a jolt of anxiety straight to your gut. A confrontation between Butcher and your father would not end well, and you’re not sure which side you're more furious with at the moment.

“I followed one of those vans all the way to Albany today,” MM continues, his voice tinged with frustration. “And what did I find? They were just illegally dumping medical waste. You know what that shit smells like?” He pauses, grimacing as he recalls the smell of decomposition. “When I got back, Butcher was losing his mind, ranting about hearing your dad say the vials were in his office.”

You feel a little dizzy. Is Butcher really doing as badly as you? Has his head been as cloudy as yours since you parted ways?

He's not spiraling because he misses you. He's going crazy because he’s losing control over the one thing he could still manage, his best piece of spyware. 

MM’s voice pulls you back. “Is there any way you could sneak into the office and get them out? Do you know where your dad would keep them?”

The question hangs in the air, and you’re painfully aware of how little you actually know about your dad's routine. Perhaps if you'd spent more time in his presence, more time nestled under his wing like he'd wanted all along, you would know things like this. Instead you feel like a stranger to everyone you've ever known.

What do you know? You know he's in there all the fucking time. He lives there, for Christ's sake. If you're going to get in there and tear things apart it'll have to wait for a night when he's out and you can bribe the underpaid security to look the other way. 

“It's almost the end of the fiscal quarter,” you murmur, already forming a plan in your head. “He’s gonna be working in there day and night for the next couple of weeks. He won’t leave until then. So, we just wait him out until I can sneak in there while he’s gone.”

But MM’s face darkens. He shakes his head, biting his lip. “That ain't gonna work. Vought’s pissed at your dad, and they’re not gonna wait that long. They’re moving the vials to a lab in Russia in a week.”

Your stomach drops. Vought’s lost patience, and it’s worse than you imagined. This is bad. A heavy darkness swirls in your gut. 

“W–why can't you guys just intercept it again? Like Butcher and I did with the rest of the vials?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

MM rubs the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. “Vought security’s a hell of a lot better than your dad’s. They’re not moving those vials between Manhattan and JFK without someone noticing. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but taking a car off the road is one thing. Trying to take down a fucking plane?” He leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s terrorism, alright?”

You hate to admit it but he's right. Taking down a plane is way out of your wheelhouse. Who do you think you are, Homelander?

MM’s expression turns grim as he leans in further. “Once those vials hit Russia, it’s game over. Vought’s gonna have a lobotomized Supe army, and we’re gonna be fuckin’ cooked.”

Your mind conjures the image of you sneaking into your father's fortress like a cartoon cat burglar, prowling and somersaulting around until you find what you're looking for. A much younger and prettier Indiana Jones expertly replacing the golden idol, only the golden idol is a few test tubes filled with a multi-billion dollar mutation drug. 

You'd be caught, surely, probably killed on the spot. But you'd have done it. You would have finally accomplished something to really be proud of, something your mother would be proud of. She would have wanted you to do this. She would have wanted you to fight. 

“I'll do it,” your voice is firm and unwavering. You hold MM's gaze. “But not for you guys, and not for Butcher, okay? And not for me, either.” You swallow. “I'm doing this for my mom. And for Robin and Becca and whoever else that's dead because of Vought and never got justice.” 

The words are out before you can stop them, and you can feel the weight of them, heavy on your chest. It feels… final.

Maybe it was all leading toward this. Maybe all of the pain and emptiness and anger and apathy was preparing you for this. To undertake a mission only you could, sacrificing yourself for the greater good. You can handle being disowned by your only surviving parent. You can survive criminal charges. 

But would they let you survive at all?

MM nods, silent for a moment, but the weight of his stare speaks volumes. He gets it. You can see that much in his eyes.

He's right. Either you do this, accepting whatever consequences may come, or you let Vought win. You think of the two security guards in the van, their cold and unseeing eyes. Your fault. It can't have been for nothing. 

“I'll do it this week, on Thursday.” Your voice is clear, resolute. “It's our family dinner. I'll make sure they both drink enough wine to put them out for the night.”

He lets out a sigh. “Just promise me you’ll pick up the damn phone if we call you, yeah? We’ll get you a wire, an earpiece. We’ll be in your ear the whole time, just in case.”

You remember Butcher's voice in your ear, losing his shit when Homelander cornered you. It tripped you up, unfocused your thoughts. The last thing you need for this mission is to be distracted. Whatever happens happens. No safety nets or precautions or contingency plans. You're picking a plan and committing. You don’t want anyone else in danger because of you. It briefly crosses your mind that this must be the mindset of Kamikaze pilots. 

I will go down with this ship. 

“No.” 

“No?”

“No,” you say, voice firm. “No wire. No earpiece. No safety nets. I’m doing this alone. I don’t want anyone else dying for this.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but you hold up your hand, cutting him off. “I would be doing this with or without your help, MM. Just let me do it my way.”

He protests a little more, but you stand your ground. You’ll go in, and you’ll deal with the consequences. No one else.

You eventually compromise that you'll let them drive you to the headquarters on Thursdays night and fit you with a wire, but only to gather intel should a standoff occur. You figure that, on the off chance you make it out of there in one piece, you'll need a getaway car. You'll take what you can get. 

MM senses that something is different about you now. The anxious abductee he met a few months ago has been replaced by someone colder, jaded. The determination is clear in your eyes. You’re ready for this. Still, he feels the need to comfort you. 

“Focus. Don’t rush it. You’ll know what to do when you feel it,” he offers, his voice soft but full of belief. It’s both terrifying and reassuring how much faith he has in you.

Once you iron out the details of the plan you stand to leave, lingering by the booth. For what exactly you're not sure. MM senses this. 

“I know you don’t want to see Butcher right now,” he says carefully, his gaze dropping to the table. “But what about the others?”

You raise an eyebrow. He nods toward the window, where a white van is parked under a streetlamp, unnoticed by you until now.

“They’re here?” you exclaim, the excitement catching you off guard.

MM just nods. You jump out of your seat and race toward the van, tossing a crisp fifty onto the table as you go.

The doors of the van swing open, and you’re met with the familiar faces of your friends. Annie, Kimiko, Hughie, and Frenchie pour out, and without thinking, you throw your arms around Annie first. Kimiko follows, wrapping herself around you. Then Hughie and Frenchie pull you into a tight embrace, all of you tangled together.

You close your eyes, committing the moment to memory. For once, you feel right— you feel home.

As the hug breaks apart, you point an accusing finger at them all. “Don’t think I’m not pissed at you guys. You knew my apartment was bugged, and you didn’t say anything.”

Guilt falls across their faces like a shadow. 

You decide that it's enough. 

“But goddamn did I miss you.”

The guilt fades, replaced by genuine smiles. And just like that, you’re together again.

You all pile into the van, talking plans and strategies.

The plan is risky. The plan has a million ways it could go wrong. But right now, you’re all in.

You'll go to dinner on Thursday like usual and you'll ply your dad with wine until he's three sheets to the wind and dead to the world, leaving him defenceless against your thievery. You'll enter like a shadow in the night, pilfering the vials and stealing away, silent and unnoticed. You'll be revered amongst the Boys, earning their respect and a sincere apology from Butcher. 

Okay, the last part may be a little too lofty of a goal. 

Frenchie provides you with a lock picking kit, promising to show you how to use it in case the vials are in a safe. 

“Do you feel safe going in there?” Hughie asks. “Are you worried about being caught?”

You take a deep breath. “The thought has crossed my mind,” you admit. You'd imagined how you might respond, rehearsing excuses about looking for a file or wanting to talk about logistics at three in the morning. 

Ultimately you wave Hughie off, assuring him it'll be fine. He doesn't need to worry about anything, you've got it covered. 

Silently, secretly, you do wonder if this might be the last night you spend amongst friends, together like this. Scheming and planning and laughing.

There is a weight on your shoulders, heavy layers like sediment settling in your heart. There's a flavour in the air that tells you something permanent and significant is shifting. Like maybe nothing will be the same again. 

As the van starts moving, the weight of what’s ahead presses down on you, but for the first time in a long time, it feels just a little bit lighter.

~~~

You meet with Frenchie a few times so he can teach you how to pick locks. You don't get particularly good, but he figures you'll do just fine. He says something about bringing dynamite just in case, but you're really relying on it not coming to that. It'd be a real shame to damage the mahogany. 

Annie runs through basic self defense with you, instructing you on how to punch steadily and dodge attacks. The two of you run through Vought's files on all registered Supes, looking for ones with the ability to liquefy a person. It turns out there are quite a few, but none of them jump up off the page to you, none have any tie back to your family. You put them all in a pile to look through later. 

Later. 

Later doesn't feel quite real. You ground yourself in every moment with them, suddenly nostalgic for the smell of laundry detergent and the distant din of a dozen dryers shaking in tandem. You're really not trying to jinx the mission and doom it to failure but it's just that there's an inexplicable finality about this. It's like some internal radar is going haywire but you have no idea how to interpret what it's for. 

All you know is that whatever happens when you creep into that office is going to change everything. 

~~~

It's Wednesday evening. There's a chill in the air that is h characteristically cool for this time of year, promising an early winter. You brace yourself against the whipping wind, pulling your cardigan around your body as you make your way across the lawn of the Lakehouse. 

You'd insisted on taking the dinner here instead of at Monica's apartment or at headquarters. You knew there was no chance your father would stay the night at the Lakehouse, not having spent a night here since he became a widower, but you also knew that all his best wines were in the cellar here. 

Your consciousness feels unreal, like it's blurred at the edges. You overthink every word you say, the cadence of your forced laughter. The fork and knife in your hand feel foreign as you cut into the braised lamb. You barely taste the rosemary seasoned polenta, everything turning acrid in your mouth. The shadows on your father's face darken as he mumbles about Russian labs undercutting him. Your voice is hollow and far-away when you ask benign questions about quarterly projections.

Other questions cloud your mind. 

What will happen tonight? Where will we stand tomorrow? Will you find out who I really am? Will I find out what you really are?

The first bottle of wine goes down quickly, as is customary for the Morgans. You suggest another, not completely out of the ordinary. You swirl your glass around as you feel the edge of reality soften. The second one is finished just as supper is being cleared out. It would be odd to suggest a third bottle without good reason. So you give a good reason.

“Dad, there's something I wanted to talk you you about,” you begin, glass of wine held contemplatingly in your hand. “I've been thinking about it and… you're right. I want to get more serious about the company.”

That's all you really had to say, a pleased grin already spreading across his face. You continue. 

“I think I should be the one to take over one day. I should start learning the ropes from you. I was thinking maybe it's time for me to join the board of directors.”

His reaction is only marginally less excited than it would be if you had just announced that Jesus had risen and appointed him president. 

He leaps from his seat, surprisingly spry for a man of his age, running around the table to squeeze you. The second bottle of wine clearly hit him like a truck. For a brief moment you wonder why you have to ply him with obedience and alcohol to receive affection. 

You tuck that one right back where it came from. 

“Another bottle of wine to celebrate?” you suggest. Your father goes to the wine cellar himself, procuring a bottle of red from the year you were born. 

Drink up. 

As he excitedly rambles in your ear about incentives and managerial styles and investor relationships your eyes wander over to Monica. 

Her mouth is set in a straight line, eyes intense and fixed on you. She is absolutely seething. She makes no apologies for her contempt as it practically explodes from her like sparks. Her mouth settles into a flat scowl, eyes narrowed and refusing to tear away. 

It occurs to you now, suddenly, that Monica had far more ill will toward you than initially anticipated. You consider her overbearing interest in your wardrobe, her insistence that you dress and behave in bizarrely specific ways. You'd obeyed, desperate for any motherly attention. Only, now your focus has shifted. Instead of misplaced loving concern, you see manipulation, deceit. The ridiculously embellished designer brands were a humiliation ritual, a method for othering you amongst those who might endeavour to befriend you. You recall the way that family dinners had become a dreaded biweekly exercise in condescension and frustration, how a beloved tradition had so quickly soured. Every ounce of anxiety and self-doubt you'd entertained since that woman walked into your life comes to the fore. 

Monica had hazed you, and you'd been too blind to see it. 

Perhaps she had been aiming higher than you'd thought this whole time. No, she wasn't seeking half of his company once he died and left it to her. She wanted all of it. 

You raise a glass to her, warmly toasting her name. You smile wholeheartedly, giddily. To you, Monica. 

Her rage can hardly mask itself beneath her plastered joy. She clinks her wine glass against yours and your father. 

Don't worry, sweetie, you think. You can have whatever's left after I'm done. After you're the one left on the hook for billions in lost profit. 

You try not to falter with her simmering across the table, forcing your smile to stay in place every time your eyes lock with hers. You just need to keep this act up a little longer. 

You toast to the future, to lofty goals, to renewed connections. You pitch ideas to your dad that he's just drunk enough to entertain. The personal chef brings out a tray of chocolate truffles, placing them in front of you. You indulge until your fingers are coated in cocoa powder and your stomach feels ready to burst. 

It occurs to you that you're treating this like a last meal of sorts, and in many ways it is. An end to something.

To everything.

Taglist

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Final Fantasy VII- Sephiroth Fanfiction Favs

This is a fanfic rec list that recommends stories that focus on or heavily feature Sephiroth. :) All ships, no ships, genfic. Nothing is tagged, so heed the fic warnings if you're sensitive to stuff.

Final Fantasy VII OG- Canon only Fic Recs (Compilation characters like Genesis and Angeal do not appear)

The Monsters Within by TheCalamity (The Nightmare Begins, A Cold-Hearted Boy, Minute to Breath) @the--calamity

A story about the destruction of endurance. What does it cost - as individuals, as a species - to survive? We are how it ends. [A contemplation and analysis of the original 1997 Final Fantasy VII. Chronicles the Jenova Project, Sephiroth's childhood with ShinRa, and the events of FFVII through the lens of Vincent Valentine. This series is a deep dive into the philosophy, themes, characters, dynamics, world, lore and message of OG FFVII.]

This quite possibly the story I've reread the most that I'll recommend on this blog. Banging soundtrack, gorgeous art, brilliant formatting, terror, awesome, gut-wrenching-- all words to describe this story. The author doesn't shy away from the grotesque, and there are tender moments woven through an epic saga about terrible people desperately seeking connection and meaning. I don't think I've ever read anything like in any fandom ever. I don't know if I ever will.

Lament of Memories by CryptCreeperX

From test-tube freak to First-Class SOLDIER to super villain to a quirky mechanic suffering from a bad case of amnesia… This is a strange tale of how the end of the world, a band of misfits, forgotten memories, and raunchy romance novels push a fallen angel to rise again.

It's a tragedy this is incomplete because I needed more of this 7 years ago. T_T

Earthing by Grenespek

Gast survives being shot by Hojo, only to wake from a coma seventeen years later. Searching for his wife and daughter, events find him in Nibelheim on the day Sephiroth disappeared. A Sephiroth redemption exploration.

I love me three things in a Sephiroth story: 1) a Sephiroth that subsumes Jenova 2) Terrifying Sephiroth 3) Sciency Sephiroth. Told from the rotating perspective of terrifically flawed Gast, an in-character badass Aerith, and a Sephiroth that I can definitely see being the progeny of two insane scientists and a space alien.

Our Shining Past by Tocasia FFN | Ao3 @tocasia

A series of old-style (original game mostly, no CC) Sephiroth and Zack Friendship stories (all genfic) from a list of 100 prompts, in order of completion. Variously dark, silly, cute. Mostly one-shots; chapter format is a lie. Same AU? maybe… or maybe not. Halfway there on 7/1/2018!

Consider this blanket recommendation of all of Tocasia's works. Pair impeccable writing with nuanced characterization, humor, action, excellent integration of the game-mechanic style worldbuilding that is so rare in video-game fics, and you've got this series of one-shots. Zack's character is so much more interesting to me pre-crisis core, and unfortunately fics that explore what canon jossed 15 years ago are slim or mostly gone from the internet. Other favorites of mine from them include God of Paperwork and The World that Will Never Be, a Kingdom Hearts crossover.

A Good Son by myeve123

AR Ending for Nibelheim Incident. After Hojo fished him out from Nibelheim Mako Reactor, Sephiroth sets about cleaning up the mess. Preferably before the chemical imbalance in his brain drowns him for good.

Ugh, this story need so much more love than it's gotten. I'm a slut for stories that play around with the relationship between Lucrecia, Vincent, and Sephiroth, and take it in a true canon divergence! Excellent visual writing, and fast paced. Unfortunately, all the images are broken.

This Family Is Alright by axilet

A series of stories exploring the dysfunctional dynamic between mad science sibs Gast, Hojo and Lucrecia, and their son Sephiroth who they're completely unfit to raise. Just imagine what the poor kid will be like once he's all grown up. Sad Uncle Vincent tries to stage an intervention but you know how that turns out.

An oldie but goodie that I first encountered on FFN some years ago now, but I misplaced the link; now archived on ao3. How To Train Your Super Soldier Son (to become an insane destroyer of worlds) is the Sephiroth-centric fic of the series, and also the first one I read.

They Were Monsters by Yinza @yinza

In the midst of his breakdown in the Shinra mansion and desperate for answers, Sephiroth breaks open the locked basement door to find the man who might be his father… But though Vincent presents him with possibilities he hadn't imagined, Sephiroth struggles with who to trust, and what path he might follow--Jenova's, or his own.

Yinza is another ruler of horror. Actually maybe I'm just a slut for horror there's a lot of those recs on this list lol. Anyway, this fic is so well-written. If a sense of creeping dread is the sensation you seek, look not further than this story. For a not-Sephiroth centric rec, I must include their story No Moms Die, which according to my ao3 history I have 32 times @_@. If we exclude the chapter updates, I've reread it more than times since it finished :D It's that good.

Final Fantasy VII Compilation (includes Advent Children and Crisis Core)

To Be Human by LadyKF LadyKF On FFN On Ao3 [For Archive Users Only]

The world seems black and white at a glance, but the truth is never so easy. Where one draws the line between human and monster is a lot less clear when motive and deed don’t match, and a change in form is only proof of something that has been there all along. (Angel's Wings rewrite, Crisis Core fix-it.)

Ahh I was obsessed with Angel's Wings while it was updating, and To Be Human and it's compilation side stories blew the first story out of the water. The worldbuilding! The writing! The jump straight into action! The CANON DIVERGENCE!!! We all read fanfic here, we all know how rare an actual 'canon divergence' story is that actually sticks within canon without being a lazy rehash? This story is THE fix-it.

Be Not Afraid by Tiffany_Park On FFN

Hollander to Angeal: "Jenova's power has passed on to you completely." What does it mean to have received "Jenova's power"? Chances are it's not pretty. (Yeah, it was pretty ugly in Crisis Core. It's worse in this AU because Hojo got involved.) Warning: These are horror stories. Check the tags and take them seriously.

I prefer to read this series on FFN because yay for giant font but I've linked the AO3 since it puts the series in order. I live for everything this woman writes. This series takes the body-horror in canon and amps it up to 11. From Zack's POV but the Sephiroth characterization is just *chefs kiss*. Unsettling and blue-and-orange morality kind of ride of die friendship love for the win.

Snowball Effect by Tiffany_Park On FFN

Once upon a time in his youth, Angeal posed as the centerfold for an obscure porn magazine. When he made SOLDIER First Class, Shinra decided to erase its history for PR reasons. A few years later, Reno and Rude find an old copy in a used bookstore and purchase it so it can be safely destroyed. This results in many more complications than if they'd just left it to molder there.

If you read that summary and thought, "the premise of this story is utterly ridiculous", you would be entirely correct, but it's not a crack-fic in that it takes this completely seriously and runs with it. Features Shinra Corp. being dastardly, fangirls that fit effortlessly into the 90s sci-fi setting, and wonderful characterization of Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth, who all manage to be completely terrifying in their own special ways.

What is Lost by UnLike_Us

What little is left of Sephiroth after 100 years in the Lifestream suddenly finds itself without a purpose. Determined to find its lost history and reason behind its obsession, it goes back to where it all started.

One of the fluffier picks on this list, the author really plays with the idea of inner memories. A time-travel fic I don't hate lol, if only because the time travel doesn't result in an OP fix-it.

Father: Verb by Naughty_Nishitani

11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine. I am sure this has been done 10000 times but I can't stop thinking about it, so here's my version.

As the author says in the summary, I too am a slut for murder-baby Sephiroth, and this is one iteration of the trope I've reread many times. Another Sephiroth fic from the same author I enjoyed is First Soldier.

Starstruck by DyraDoodles @dyradoodles

Zack's limit break always mimics people who end up shaping his life in one way or another. Once he's met them, he can use a break similar to one of theirs, no problem. This time, there is a problem: He's mimicked someone with the power to blow up a solar system, and he has no idea how to control it. He'll have to track them down, and hopefully get them to take an active role in not just teaching the limit break, but his entire life.

This fic is crack to me. I've been salivating over every update since chapter 3. DyraDoodles has another more popular series Redux Hero AU, which I also enjoyed, but that one is much more Zack-centric and so not a good fit for this list; I rec it nonetheless.

Sephiroth Shinden: CLASSIFIED 'PROJECT S.' by goddamnitaisha

A series of one-shots exploring Sephiroth's life. One of the most no-woobie takes of Sephiroth's character, which I really, really like. Paired with an almost bleak writing style, the blunted amorality of the characters really shine through in each one-shot. A favorite of mine. Ao3 users only, unfortunately, but the author has a tumblr @goddamnitaisha. Her blog is truly gorgeous and definitely worth checking out! Not Sephiroth-centric but I really love The Unpromised Land. That's the first story I read from her on tumblr a long ass time ago.

Final Fantasy VII Remake (explicitly set within the Remake/Rebirth verse)

Swords into Plowshares by brilliantKatabasis

The purpose of the Jenova project was to produce a Cetra, someone to negotiate with the Planet on Shinra's behalf. The military applications for the entity were compelling, it's true, but ultimately limited in scope- they have robots for these things, after all- and so the SOLDIER proposal was rejected, quietly shelved away. The asset is instead committed to the significantly more lucrative field of agribusiness, where it is hoped the cultural cache of his mystic heritage will assuage the rise in environmental concerns and planetological sympathies among key interested parties. Sephiroth, Director of Stewardship, tracks down the supplier of the only fresh flowers in Midgar he's had no hand in cultivating, oblivious to the web of time he's threatening. Oblivious to the probability he shares a name with, who longs to crush this flight of fancy and claim his rightful title of certainty, gathering like a cloud on the horizon. Oblivious to the attention he's brought to his local florist's door.

Ugh, remember everything I said I loved about Earthing? This fic is an AU with a similar vibe, completely different premise. I actually recommend you check out all of brilliantKatabasis' library; they truly are an excellent writer.

For the Love of Rain by Boomchick (On Tumblr)

Sephiroth is not human. There is no doubting that now. He fell in two pieces into the reactor all those many months ago. And yet there he is again. Appearing between one heartbeat and the next, while Zack floats hopeless in Mako. There he is, opening the tanks and setting Zack and Cloud free. There he is, chuckling “there is no rush” and smiling an indulgent smile.

If you like Sephiroth-fic, you've probably been recced Boomchick before. If you haven't, I highly recommend you read all her fics, especially The Trooper Series and Restart. A lot of her stories are accompanied by epic art by tomowowo. Why did this fic make it onto the list and not the rest? Because, and I quote, it gives me the tag "Nightmare Sephiroth chooses friendship." That is epic.

Little Seph by ToastedCatBread @toastedcatbread

A life spared, a life returned. A future unseen, a future to fight for. This is the story about the Candle and the Star.

On the note of Nightmare!Sephiroth, what if he was tiny instead of hot and terrifying? :D That's what this story is. Love it!

Those Called by the Reunion by EllaEpoche

Shinra Electric Power Company’s Administrative Investigator Agatha Highmore has just landed the gig of a lifetime - investigating the leak of compromising photographs of the SOLDIER hero Sephiroth. But after a night of passion, Agatha finds herself entangled in a world of human experimentation, corporate scandal, and mysterious illnesses, with only one goal: find and reunite with her lost love.

This fic is a trip @_@. EllaEpoche is one of those authors whose brain cooks up the most insane plots and has the writing talent to back up the wild storytelling. Also recommend Schrodinger's Sephiroth, which explores the multiple timelines introduced in the remake. Ten Thousand Cold Nights also gets a mention here.

Epiphany by Fenrir4life, The_Story_Maker

Sephiroth is looping, repeating the events of Final Fantasy VII over and over again. He has experienced not only the events of the original game and the remake, but many more cycles beyond, stretching into a multitude of similar and yet ever-so-slightly different worlds. Regardless of loss, death, or even victory, he has been unable to free himself from this time loop – or even uncover why he is looping at all. Determining to find answers, he seeks out Aerith Gainsborough to see if he can convince her to interrogate the planet itself for information. However, it turns out Aerith is not completely ignorant of the cycle. Fed experiences by the planet of the events of the original Final Fantasy VII, she has good reason to distrust Sephiroth and his plans. This story revolves around their interactions with each other and the resulting consequences that ripple through this particular cycle.

This is probably my favorite Remake fic. It matches the perfect balance of silliness and action that attracted me to the characters in the first place and hits it with a hefty dose of perfectly written Aeriseph, like you hit the pot with the hot pepper to make the flavor pop. Love it!

Alternate Universe

The Host by CryptCreeperX

A troubled youth, Cloud leaves home to join an elite gang of soldiers. But flipping burgers at Chocobo Chow and living in the Slums during unsafe times wasn't in the plan. Neither were rejection letters from Shinra Inc. An encounter with an enigmatic silver-haired Host presents a new obstacle. Guided to a world of sensual pleasure, Cloud bonds with a man who revels in dark passions

This story is sensual. Even the most mundane moment are described so thoroughly? So intensely? Like, this is a POV of a dude who has zero-chill and you can feel that every moment in his narration, even when man is flipping burgers. Plus, Sephiroth is HOT. The makeup of my bi-dreams.

The Boy Voted Most Likely to Rule the Planet by CryptCreeperX

In High School, there's the pressure to fit in, raging hormones, and seeing the boy of your dreams with someone else. Sephiroth deals with all this. He's been on the run his whole life. When he and his nutjob dad move to Nibelheim, things get complicated. An unruly boy catches his eye. Now he must contend with his feelings while making sure Dad doesn't turn him into a pet project.

I hate high school AUs. But sprinkle some mad science and psycho kids and all of a sudden you have a perfect story. It's like when you don't like a certain fruit but cooked into a pastry that shit is godly? That's this story.

Wonders of the World by CryptCreeperX

Once, a man driven by love nearly ended the world in hate. 200 years have passed since Meteorfall. A film crew documents a derelict mountain village shrouded in snow. Isolated from the world, it's rumored the Lifestream runs black there and spirits of the dead stalk its grounds. Their guide is Wolf, a man with odd blue eyes. He likes to smile. He also says some memories never die.

This thing's got the pacing of an M.Night Shyamalan movie. Love it!

The Prophet by NazoFox2501

In Assiah, there are prophets that are chosen by the god Sephiroth to speak on Their behalf. Cloud, an atheist college student, is afflicted with a deadly disease, the mark of the next chosen prophet. On a journey with his friends, will he be cured and accept his fate, or can he overcome it?

If religious trauma horror is your cup of tea, this story is for you. If your favorite bit of FFVIIR is how terrified Cloud is in Midgar, this story is for you.

[brightlotusmoon]

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Erectile Dysfunction IS fairly bold, considering the history of misrepresenting ADHD.

Copy/paste of the additional text at the link:

_

One of the most persistent myths?

That individuals with ADHD simply “lack willpower” or “just need to try harder.”

But research tells a different story — a story rooted in brain function, not personal failure.

Clinical studies show that ADHD is linked to dysregulation in key neurotransmitter systems, particularly dopamine and norepinephrine (Arnsten, 2009).

These chemicals play crucial roles in:

- Motivation

- Focus

- Emotional regulation

- Reward processing

When a task is intrinsically stimulating (interesting, novel, or rewarding), the brain’s reward pathways light up — making it easier to engage.

However, when the task is boring, repetitive, or emotionally neutral, individuals with ADHD may struggle to activate the necessary attention networks, even when they want to.

Functional MRI scans have consistently found:

- Reduced activity in the prefrontal cortex, responsible for executive functions like planning, organizing, and impulse control (Bush et al., 2005).

- Delayed cortical maturation, especially in areas governing decision-making and attention (Shaw et al., 2007).

In simple terms:

The ADHD brain isn’t lazy or undisciplined — it’s wired to need stronger stimulation to maintain focus.

ADHD is not a deficit of knowing what to do — it’s a deficit of being able to do what you know, consistently (Barkley, 1997).

When we view ADHD through the lens of brain chemistry instead of willpower, everything changes:

- It’s not about trying harder. It’s about understanding differently.

- It’s about creating environments, supports, and strategies that align with how the ADHD brain is wired to succeed.

Because sometimes, the gap isn’t between intention and character — It’s between neurobiology and expectation.

This analysis is grounded in research from clinical psychology, neurodevelopmental studies, and psychiatry. We are a research media platform and do not provide clinical diagnosis or treatment advice.

[galacticgrapezz]

Lily Orchard/CD-Call does not understand Adderall (Or ADHD medication for that matter)

Hi! My name is Violet. I'm a part-time college student majoring in biology. Biology majors here require a college and health class that you MUST pass to get your degree. I am also medically diagnosed with ADHD and medicated (not with Adderall hell no).

Lily/CD has said and does currently take (I hope prescribed) Adderall and is heard taking it on her live streams, but today on BlueSky, she asked a question that should 100% be consulted with your doctor.

This goes to show Lily/CD is not educated or has not bothered to educate herself on what Adderall is and what it does to your body.

This post should be an informative piece on why ANYONE (Not just CD) Should ALWAYS research the medication you are being recommended to. So let's discuss Adderall, controlled substances, and addiction.

What is a Controlled Substance?

A controlled substance is typically a drug or chemical regulated by the government through manufacturing, possession, and ingestion. Some examples of controlled substances are: LSD, Oxycodone, Ketamine, and Amphetamine (Remember this one!). All of these are known abused drugs however are also used for medicinal use thanks to the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act (CDSA).

The reason we have these federal laws is to modernize, classify, consolidate, and prevent the abuse of said drugs or chemicals. When someone is prescribed a controlled substance, you are asked if you or your family has had a history of substance misuse, vital organs that may be affected are closely monitored, and you are required to not stop taking it without consulting with your doctor. The reason this definition has to be explained first is that Adderall is classified as a controlled substance by Canada's CDSA.

Let's Talk About Adderall

Adderall is a controlled substance medication prescribed to treat ADHD and Narcolepsy. Adderall (and Mydayis) is the brand name, for the medication, and the generic name for Adderall is Dextroamphetamine-amphetamine. Therefore, Adderall is an amphetamine. Adderall contains multiple amphetamine salts that are closely related to methamphetamine. When taken, Adderall comes into effect within about an hour of use, it triggers neuroreceptors in the central nervous system, increasing the effect of serotonin and dopamine. This helps with ADHD as it gives the brain a stimulant that may have dopamine dysfunctional release, a lack of dopamine.

When Adderall is abused, the brain which was previously given a constant stream of dopamine and serotonin, will stop producing the two on its own. This will result in the user craving more Adderall, making it highly addictive and making the user unable to feel dopamine and serotonin without a stimulant. Hence why Adderall should only be prescribed to people medically diagnosed with ADHD or Narcolepsy. Adderall abuse has also been seen a lot in Millenials, which is the generation Lily/CD is a part of.

Explaining Amphetamines

Amphetamine is a powerful psychostimulant AKA, a synthetic mood-altering drug. Scientists do not currently have a full understanding of how amphetamines work in the brain, but some aspects like what it does chemically are established. When amphetamine is taken, it binds to transporter proteins for monoamines like: dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin, where the transporter proteins give them to neurons. Once inside the neuron, it disrupts the storage of monoamines by suppressing a protein called the VMAT2, which transports monoamines into vesicles. This causes the monoamine transporter proteins to work in reverse, which means an increase in the release of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin monoamines. People with ADHD may need this to release a normal stream of these monoamines, but neurotypicals taking amphetamines will experience a euphoric and heightened effect with the increase of the three monoamines but a consistent taking of amphetamines results in addiction and the withdrawal of the brain not developing monoamines on its own.

Conclusion

Adderall is a controlled substance for a very important reason. Even if you have ADHD you are very able to abuse it. It's also very important to explain Adderall is an instant-release medication, which in short means it should only be taken when needed. Lily/CD is taking it every time she is on stream which most likely means every day and eludes to her abusing amphetamines. Please never ask anyone on social media about your prescribed controlled medication. ALWAYS ASK YOUR DOCTOR. If you read this far thank you for tuning in to my STEM yap session ^_^ have a wonderful day.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Op-Ed from The Revelator:

Over the past couple of weeks we’ve seen the current U.S. administration grasping at straws, mocking restrictions on single-use plastics, and trying to distract from the real issue: Plastic poisons people and the planet, and the industries that produce it need to stop making so much of it.

When I started “The Last Plastic Straw” movement in 2011, the sole purpose was to bring attention to a simple, tangible issue and raise awareness about the absurdity of single-use plastic items and engage people to take action.

So what are the real problems with plastic? Plastics don’t break down, they break up: Unlike natural materials that decompose, they fragment into smaller and smaller pieces, never benignly degrading but remaining forever plastic. All plastic items shed plastic particles called microplastics and even smaller nanoplastics, which we inhale, ingest, and absorb into our bodies. Plastics, depending on their manufacturing composition, contain a mixture of more than 16,000 chemicals, at least 4,200 of which are known hazards to human health. When we use plastic straws, cups, plates, utensils, and food packaging, we are literally swallowing those toxic plastic particles and chemicals.

These tiny microplastic and nanoplastic particles accumulate at alarming rates throughout our bodies: in our blood, hearts, lungs, penises, testicles, uteri, and more. Researchers estimate a whole spoon’s worth of plastic resides in the average human brain, where it definitely doesn’t belong.

Plastic particles have also been found in placenta and breast milk, so children today are being born plasticized. This is a toxic burden that today’s youth should not have to bear.

Plastic in our bodies has been linked to higher risks of cancer; heart attack, stroke, and death; dementia and Alzheimer’s disease; and infertility and reproductive problems, including miscarriage and stillbirth. Plastic particles in the penis have been linked to erectile dysfunction. On the industrial fencelines of plastic production, shipping, and disposal activities and infrastructure, plastic particle and chemical pollution of the air, as well as soils and waters, sickens and kills residents living nearby. The list of plastic’s harmful effects goes on and on.

It goes without saying that plastic’s harms to our health come at an enormous cost to us, who must suffer through the heartbreaking and painful diseases it causes. It’s estimated that every 30 seconds, someone dies from plastic pollution in the Global South, an area overburdened by mountains of plastic pollution that is shipped away from the Global North under the guise of “recycling” only to be dumped and often burned, releasing additional toxic pollution. Financially too, plastics are expensive: The chemicals in plastic alone cost the U.S. healthcare system $250 billion in just one year.

We can’t recycle our way out of this. Plastic was never made to be recycled and is still not made to be recycled.

Our leaders who support continued or even increased plastic production seem ignorant of the facts about plastic pollution. Let us enlighten them: All plastic pollutes, and single-use plastic items like straws are not only hazardous to our health, they’re especially wasteful.

[billcipherisntreal]

WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL!

IT TOOK THEM A SHOCKINGLY SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME TO BREAK UNDER MY ANTICS! BUT NO MATTER, THEY WERE OF LITTLE USE TO ME, AND UGH, THE MUSIC THAT CRETIN LISTENED TO! ABHORRENT! DISGUSTING! IT MAKES MY ORAL LUNGS BLEED JUST THINKING ABOUT IT! WHAT KIND OF LOWLIFE DEGENERATE DECIDES TO TORTURE THEMSELVES BY LISTENING TO HATSUNE MIKU? I RETCH AT THE THOUGHT.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THEM, LET’S TALK ABOUT MY FAVORITE SUBJECT IN THE MUTILATED MULTIVERSE:

ME!

BILL CIPHER IS NOW OPEN FOR QUESTIONING!

WANNA KNOW HOW YOU DIE? EVER GET CURIOUS ABOUT HOW MANY FINGERNAILS YOU’D NEED TO CREATE THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF ATLANTIS FROM SCRATCH? WHAT EXACTLY WAS YOUR UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR DOING THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 24TH 1971?

ALL OF THAT AND MORE WILL BE ANSWERED IF YOU, YES YOU! DECIDE TO SLIDE INTO THE ASK BOX OF THIS VERY ACCOUNT! DON’T WAIT, SUBMIT YOUR INQUIRIES TODAY BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE! TOO LATE FOR WHAT, YOU ASK? FIND OUT!

Bill Cipher is not liable for any nightmares, nightmares squared, mental anguish, physical turmoil, emotional distress, pain, suffering, agony, Deja vu, unwanted summoned entities, bad memories, future bad memories, Deja vu, eviscerations, mastications, castrations, felony charges, murders, weight loss, weight gain, weight displacement, clavicle deletion, thyroid sickness, bone duplications, alien abductions, unwanted thoughts, wanted thoughts, unknown thoughts, intrusive thoughts, politely overstaying their welcome thoughts, mucus detonations, facial reconstruction, Deja vu, locating the Beyond of Bed Bath And, being late for dinner, being early for dinner, removing dinner from existence, removing you from existence, copulating with your mom, causing your parent’s divorce, causing your Batman origin story, influencing your friends to only speak backwards, malfunctioning mirrors, Deja vu, breaking My Chemical Romance up again, theft, crime, hooliganism, roughhousing, squid parties, inverting mountains, causing your immune system to become aware of your eyeballs, spinal dysfunction, ending the great emu war, starting the second great emu war, putting cement where it shouldn’t be, spontaneous sinkholes, scheduled earthquakes, permanent removal of a random protein sequence in your DNA, gifting you the gift of too many chromosomes, killing Santa Claus, preventing baby Hitler from being murked by time travelers, giving Donald Trump plot armor, framing you for time crimes, giving the muppet joker a new kin, Deja vu, rigging the World Series, eternal bad luck, stealing all your Tupperware lids, replacing your spaghetti with snakeskin, toggling gravity off, turning off the sun, evaporating all water on earth, spinning the solar system backwards, reversing the irreversible, adding 13 to all clocks, giving giraffes sentience, making chimpanzees invincible, making mosquitoes invisible, overconsumption of battery acid, brain bleeding, soul molding, mind breaking, and cancer. Bill Cipher and his associates hold no responsibility for any and all disasters listed here. By submitting an ask you forfeit your mind body and soul to be used in the future as Bill chooses.

DSJ MB DEOUT TGB SUPBR SBARBT KHCBKONF LBDK OCCBR!