#when it was nomenal at best and if it had been a book instead of a thing with actors in it i wouldve ignored completely

[july-19th-club]

this past little while every time ive gone oh here's something new i think i'd enjoy lets watch it ive sat down and watched it and been like. i had a good time doing this it was not a waste of a few hours . i enjoyed myself & then ill go see what the reviews are and they'll be like jesus CHRIST that was boring . overcomplicated. undercomplicated. poorly performed. and in general an embarrassment to the medium which just goes to show you that i shouldnt be a professional critic and critics shouldnt watch movies with me

[hoodoo12]

Familial Ties (And How to Break Them) 1/?

Based on a rp that the witty and talented @turtlepated and I did over several months.  NSFW, Beetlejuice/OC f!character, actual plot, world building, Latin, other demons, violence, smut.  Enjoy!  ~

Pate sighed, shifting the heavy sealed plastic box in her arms as she padded down the dimly lit hallway. It was long after closing time at the archives, but her boss had wheedled her into staying late to assess some new arrivals. She shouldered open the swinging door into a restoration office, depositing her load on a sterile work bench and gathering up supplies: pen and notebook, cotton gloves to protect the delicate velum pages, the assorted cleaning tools, and laying them neatly at her station before opening the box. Inside were half a dozen leather bound volumes, purchased by her boss on a recent trip to Europe. She lifted them out one by one and looked them over, judging that most were in decent enough shape to be worth salvaging.

One, she noted with a puzzled frown, appeared to be in the worst condition of the lot. And strangest of all, there was a thick metal clasp complete with an ancient padlock holding the book shut.

She set the padlocked tome aside and quickly made notations and catalogued the other books, banal volumes of religious writings for the most part, and in good enough shape not to require much attention from her. Finally she was left with only the poorly locked book, taking it gently in her gloved hands and turning it around to get a better look. From what she could tell at a cursory inspection of the cracked and worm-eaten spine, it appeared to be a collection of astronomical dissertations.

She tried the lock, tugging on it as sharply as she dared with the state of the book.

⁂

Out of the ether, a deep thrumming startled him. It was almost too faint to be felt at first, but it grew in intensity.

"There's something I never expected to feel again," Beetlejuice thought, shaking his head of the literal cobwebs.

⁂

The rusty lock refused to give, and Pate gave it one more frustrated rattle against the metal loop. She had just decided to simply discard the thing into the shelf of other moldering texts when, with no warning, the centuries-old binding ripped free and the entire block slid right out of the leather coverings. Heart leaping into her throat, Pate just managed to catch it before it hit the ground, cradling the bundle of loose leaves against her chest as she set the now empty cover back on the bench.

"Shit, Paul's gonna kill me," she grumbled.

⁂

A minor jolt went through him, like someone had run their warm, living fingers down his spine. It was just a fleeting touch, but he grinned.

⁂

Sighing harshly, Pate lay the block on the table and examined the most recent damage with a twinge of guilt. The backing and both end papers had completely torn away from the block, still hanging on the cover. She frowned at the exposed title page, wrinkled by long-dried water, the ink faded and difficult to make out. It took a few minutes to discern the title stamped into the parchment, but as best as she could tell the book was entitled "Ens entium collectio infernalia". Since her forte was restoring old books and not reading or translating them, she turned to Google.

"Being a collection of entities most infernal," she read aloud from her phone screen. But wasn't this a book about astronomy?  

Frowning in thought, Pate pulled the text block closer and began leafing through the pages. They came away stiff, some sticking together after who knew how much time spent with the book tightly shut and locked. She carefully separated pages from one another, eyes roving writing that she could not read. Instead of star charts or graphs, there were woodcut illustrations of monstrous creatures, hand-drawn sigils in iron gall ink that had browned with age.

"What the hell...?" Pate murmured to herself, flipping the block closed and reaching for the empty boards that once held it all together.

Something caught her eye on the back cover, where the pastedown ripped harshly when the block detached from the spine. There appeared to be another page tucked under the end paper.

Peeling away the pastedown, Pate took hold of the folded corner of parchment and gently tugged it free, not wanting to risk ripping it before she got a look at it. It was folded several times over, so she pushed the text block and cover across the workbench to have room to lay it down and open it out. Going slowly, the parchment crinkling like dead leaves each time she touched it, Pate carefully unfolded the bit of parchment to reveal a page. It looked different to the simple black and white woodblock illustrations in the book; this was in color, and appeared to have been rendered by hand. It depicted a male figure dressed in a strange black and white striped tunic and leggings. On his face was a devilish grin, a peculiar pointed tongue protruding from between his leering lips. The unkempt hair on his head had been colored green, and he appeared to be holding some sort of bizarre black and white snake with two heads? Pate's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to inspect it, though it was hardly the strangest medieval illumination she'd ever seen. Next to the grinning, green haired person in his striped garments were a few lines of slightly smeared text.

⁂

Beetlejuice shivered. That was closer. That was closer.

⁂

Pate squinted harder at the splotchy lines of ink, trying to make sense of it or at least figure out what language it was written in. One thing she was certain of: this page had been torn from a completely different book that the one she found it in. It was much older, smaller than the pages of the rest of the text block. And why had someone gone to the trouble of hiding it? Whoever had written... whatever was written next to the strange illumination had very shaky handwriting, which didn't make it any easier to decipher.

"Bhet el.... What's that last thing there?" She thumbed through the internet browser on her phone, comparing text to find a match. "Bhet, el, juz? Is that it?"

⁂

"Oh, shit," he groaned. This was happening? Out of nowhere, this was happening?!

⁂

Sitting back in her chair, Pate took the torn-out page and held it at arms' length, pondering the three peculiar syllables and wondering why they sounded familiar.

"Bhet el juz…." she murmured. It does sound different, taking a shorter pause between. It was on the tip of her tongue, teasing at the outermost edge of recognition.

⁂

 Oh fuck

Electricity flooded him, making him jitter. It had to be a joke, couldn't be true; he rocked on the balls of his feet, which helped release some nervous energy and also shifted his involuntarily hard-on to a more comfortable position behind his fly.

⁂

Sighing tiredly, Pate laid the page back on the workbench and looked at the time on her phone. Had she really spent an hour and a half picking apart the enigma of the locked book? And what had she really learned? Snorting softly through her nose, Pate wheeled the chair forward to prop her elbows atop the bench, resting her chin in her hand and regarding the striped tongue snaking out of the figure's mouth.

"Bheteljuz, what's your deal, huh?" she asked no one.

At least the dirt on his pants would hide the wet spot if he came right here and now. Like a grappling hook had been driven into his gut, he was pulled through the ether to whomever called him.

When he landed, bent knees and feeling better than he'd had in forever, he threw his arms out and shouted, "Suus 'showtime!"

There was a breather here, of course, surrounded by dusty books.

"Quis es?" he asked excitedly, eager to meet this woman who so thoughtfully released him. "Gratias tibi! Gratias tibi tam! Fortuna, suus 'sit bonum, de iterum.Quis es tibi nomen?"

Pate frowned at a sudden, short lived gust of wind that ruffled the torn out page and whipped loose tendrils of hair around her face, but before she had time to wonder at it a sudden voice made her yelp and spin in her chair so fast that she nearly tipped right over.

Standing before her was quite possibly the strangest looking person she'd ever seen:  a man dressed in a rather shabby and grimy looking black-and-white-striped suit, a tangled rat's nest of verdant green hair on his head and a broad, toothy grin on his face. She blinked stupidly, sure that she must be seeing things.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, pausing to clear her throat when the question came out a tad squeaky. "How'd you get in here?"

Beetlejuice shook his head.

"ENGLISH," he crowed, like he'd solved a mystery. "I saw the books and thought some goddamn alchemist had called me up again, but the fluorescent lights should've given it away."

He took a parody breath, like this air was fresh and clean, and gave his best grin to the breather. The one that he hoped didn't look too much like he wanted to take a bite out of someone.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

Completely taken aback, Pate answered without even thinking,

"My name . . .? I'm Pate, but . . . who--?"

She cut herself off, answering her own question even as she asked it, glancing from the illumination on the orphaned page to the man standing before her and making the connection.

"This is . . . is this you?" she asked, holding it up to show him.

He grabbed it out of her hand for a closer look, breaking into a wider grin.

"Oh yeah, baby, that's me! Good thing someone beautiful and smart called me up! So. What's your pleasure? Who do I have to kill?"

Pate's eyebrows shot up, her mouth falling open.

"Kill?" she squeaked. "No! Nobody! What? Called you? How?"

Questions spun through her mind too fast for her tongue to keep up and she leaned against the bench, tenting her fingers together and pressing them to her face as she breathed deeply.

"Ooookay, this is obviously some sort of . . . stress-induced hallucination."

His brow wrinkled.

"Nobody ever wants me to kill anybody," he groused. "Hey. Hey. Pate? Sweetie, you don't look so good. Almost as pale as me! Why don'tcha sit down, m'kay? Don't need a smart one like you falling over and injuring that big brain of yours."

He stepped up to take her elbow, and really fought down the urge to give her a peek at his brain and its resident maggots, to demonstrate the worst that could happen.

Pate peeked out from behind her hands enough to see him take a step closer, one hand extending towards her in an admittedly non-threatening way but she couldn't contain the tiny frightened gasp that escaped her as she backed a step away, bumping into her chair and sending it skittering across the linoleum floor.

"That's . . . ahem . . . i's fine, I'm fine," she said, making an effort to keep her voice conversationally polite even while her mind was screaming, overwrought and uncomprehending of what was happening. "Now you said I called you? How, exactly?"

Beetlejuice frowned. "Come on, beaut. I said you were smart! You picked up my flyer. Where was it?" He spied the destroyed book and picked some of it up. "Oh! Ens entium collectio infernalia". Good old Deitrich Fuchs. Herr Fucks had to hide this book so the church didn't know it was about demons."

He chuckled. "Herr Fuchs," he repeated, like a 12-year-old boy. Then he shook himself and got back to the question at hand.

"You read my flyer--such a sweet voice, like a nightingale!--and here I am, the Netherworld's leading, and only, bio-exorcist, at your service. Don't confuse me for a genie, though. Those guys think they're so great, what with that fucking Disney movie making them out to be fun and funky playmates, but a couple of things. One, they stink. Cooped up in a lamp? Come one. Two. They're cranky assholes, because you guessed it: they're stuck in lamps. Three? They can't show you the same kind of good time that I can, baby. If you catch my drift. And I think you do."

He clicked his tongue and winked.

"So if I'm not killing anyone, is that what you're after? I can most certainly accommodate you there too. There's usually this other guy that gets called more than me, but you've obviously got better taste calling me instead."

There was definitely a tension headache working its way into her temples as Pate blinked dumbly at the onslaught of words, only half of which her brain managed to process and understand. His flyer? Had he hidden the page in the book himself? But if that were the case . . . Like a lightbulb switching on, it suddenly clicked. That word! Bhetlejuz! She couldn't explain how, not even to herself, but somehow or another saying it out loud had brought him here! But from where?

Before a new flood of questions had time to wash over her, his innuendo filtered into her consciousness and she stiffened, mortified to feel warmth in her face that she hoped the overhead fluorescence would bleach out before he noticed. Clearing her throat, she made a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to a more . . .  professional topic.

"Wait, are you saying you actually knew the author? But that would make you . . . " She did the math in her head, guestimating the age of the tome itself. "Almost five hundred years old?"

He didn't miss the color that rose in her cheeks.

"Now you're looking a little flushed, sugar," he remarked, and sidled closer again, even though she'd rebuffed him before. His voice dropped. "It looks good on you. I'd be interested in seeing if that pretty blush shows up anywhere else . . ."

He cleared his throat and twisted his hips just a tad; it'd been a while since he'd been near, well, anyone, and having a raging boner wouldn't endear him to her! She didn't look like she'd appreciate a femur as a joke at the moment, either. He switched topics, for her sake.

"Let's table that and revisit it later, okay? Your question about Herr . . . Fuchs? Christ that guy should've changed his name. Nice guy. Nervous. Well, he would've been tortured and probably drawn and quartered, so I guess he had reason to me. But yeah! Well, I'm more like six hundred-ish, but what's a century or two?"

Her blush only deepened when he called her out because of course he'd noticed.... She tensed at the close proximity and the blatant flirting, but she still had questions.

"This book," she said, turning to the side to heft the flayed text block into her hands. "Did you say it was about demons? How did Fuchs know about them?"

Pate ignored the snicker at the author's name. "Did you help him write it?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her now, replacing the fear and the uncertainty of this whole strange turn of events.

"How the Fuchs indeed," he chortled. Her query sobered him up a little bit, however. "I'm not at huge liberty to divulge past summoner's requests. Well, mainly I don't want to. I will say that now that I think about it, Fuchs might have earned that surname fair and square. Foolin' around with a demon--even one as handsome as myself--would also earn you a stake in the middle of a bonfire, if you know what I mean."

Despite herself, Pate couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of a demon abiding by a client confidentiality clause. This whole ordeal was simply too surreal, part of her still wondered if she wasn't dreaming.

"I suppose that's understandable," she conceded.

The sound of voices filtering down the hall interrupted her chain of thought. Someone was coming! But who'd be here at this time of night? Pate fumbled for her phone and checked the time.

"Holy shit! It's almost 7! The first shift is coming in!" She turned, looking from the dismantled tome to the demon leaning against the work bench.

"Oh . . . were you doing something naughty down here you don't want them to find?" Beetlejuice asked. Then something occurred to him. "Wait! It's me, isn't it!"

"Well, not to be blunt, but yes! Can you... I dunno, hide or something?" she asked, scooping up the flier and the sad remnants of the demon bestiary.

"Why would I want to hide this prime specimen of demonhood?" he retorted, offended. Seeing the panic on her face, however, he downgraded his response. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, sugar. I can be discreet."

Pate rolled her eyes at his bravado, sliding the text block carefully back into its cover and stashing the whole thing in her bag. It was unlikely to be missed, but it wasn't something she wanted to leave lying around. And, if she were honest with herself, she was fascinated by it and unable to resist the temptation of taking it home for a closer look.

Bheteljuz, which she assumed now must be his name, was nowhere in sight when she next looked but she got the distinct impression that he hadn't gone far.

The first shift crew came in then, surprised to see her still in the office but not enough to raise alarm bells. Gripping the strap of her shoulder bag protectively in both hands, Pate did her best to play it cool and bid them all goodnight, exiting the parking lot with a stolen 15th century book of demonology and an invisible demon? ghost? man? at her heels.

 tbc

[earamis]

Crescente, cum Dilectione

“You were bound to Hojo as a protege and mentor. He had trusted you with various responsibilities, some were praiseworthy, some better kept hidden. It was a mutual kind of dependence that benefited both parties. One day the professor granted you access to a whole new part of The Shinra Tower. There laid an unfamiliar territory with a surprise at the end.

One surprise in the form of silver and jade barely two winters old.

When you first saw him, the thought of witnessing the growth of a child who'd eventually change the world for either worse or better never once crossed your mind.”

Sephiroth x reader fic reposted from my AO3 account.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734419/chapters/59792911

Before starting to read, there are some things I want to point out:

1. I gain no profit from writing this. It is written solely for the heck of it, cause I think the fandom deserves more Sephiroth/reader stories.

2. Reader is female, uses feminine pronounce, and can conceive, but in terms of the level of femininity and visual characteristics, I try to be as vague as possible to give more space for the reader's imagination. So, please, visualize yourself as freely as you are possible to do.

3. Reader is called “Praenomen” instead of Y/N. It comes from Latin and translates to “forename”, so reader can treat “Praenomen” or “Nomen” (name) as Y/N, and change it with yours respectively.

4. I will try to include as many canon references as I am able and cater to the timeline of events accordingly (probably some tweaks of time here and there, but not much aside from the reader's part that will be added).

5. Please feel free to ask me anything or point out any mistakes that I make, I will be honored to answer your questions!

I hope you enjoy the story :)

Good day.

Chapter 1: Two Seasons Old

Rain had been pouring outside your room since midnight. The air of early morning hours became colder both outside and in. The corroded, rickety heater your landlord was too lazy to repair could only help so much. Chill seeped from the cracks between windows to invade what warmth was saved inside your blanket. You had been awake for quite some time, and been pretty much reluctant to leave the coziness of your bed. Pitter-patter of tiny raindrops kept knocking on the glass as you watched it with fluctuating sobriety.

The lids of your eyes fought to keep themselves open. Getting some more rest sounded like a really good idea. The clock showed barely six, and work wouldn’t start until nine. Yes. You supposed more sleep would do no harm. You slowly let yourself be lulled back to slumber as you gave up the thought to wake up early and actually do your laundry before going to work.

‘It was raining anyway’, your mind supplied. ‘You won’t be able to dry them.’

So you slipped back to oblivion with the drizzle of morning rain as your lullaby.

Until one and a half hour later, the loud ring of a PHS jerked you abruptly awake. You tangled yourself between the sheets and slipped twice in a hasty attempt to reach it. Swiping your unruly hair from your face, you flipped the device open, then instantly paled to find Professor Hojo’s name blinking on the screen. On what business your mentor called you, you could only guess. It was only thirty past seven, far from being considered late. Strange. So it must be another matter. You quickly fixed your appearance out of habit and cleared your throat before pushing the green button.

“Nomen!”

“Yes, professor?”

“Come to the lab, I must show you something.”

You looked at your state of your partial undress, then at the mirror to find your disarrayed reflection. Your eyes blinked frantically for a moment. “R-right now, sir?”

“Yes!” His curt response left no room for compromise.

You hadn’t got the chance to say anything for he hung up as sudden as he’d called. Stunned, you took a few seconds to process what just happened. But then another sound, this time a small ping, from your PHS broke the silence. You saw a following message from your mentor.

 ‘Bring the first volume on Mako Molecular Anatomy.’

That book was stranded somewhere beneath the pile of your hoard. The old shelf at the corner had been filled long ago with tomes of your past research. Dozens of newer volumes ended up getting stacked on the floor around it to accommodate them in your snug apartment. Under a brief glance, this part of the room might cause befuddlement, but for you, well, they were still chaos alright, but a neatly organized one.

The required volume laid at the bottom of a stack labeled as “mako basics”. You lifted the heavy books above it one by one, wondering if you needed to up your workout routine after all. You were panting like a dog barely halfway. An academic life really made it easy to submerge one’s attention. For years you’d been doing mostly nothing but burying your nose in books and scriptures. What free time you had you spent either assisting your mentor, writing your own research, or to catch some sleep, hence the embarrassingly lame mass of muscles in your arms. After nearly dropping the last book and toppling every towering stacks over, you breathed a loud sigh of relief at the sight of Mako: Molecular Anatomy and Structure Divisions, First Volume.

For fear of risking your mentor’s wrath, you washed yourself lightning fast, forgetting the idea of brushing your hair altogether as you grabbed a lab coat and your bag in one arm and cradled the book in the other. The sound of your rapid footsteps must be bothering the neighbors. One grandmother from somewhere in the lower floor shot you her elderly disapproving look when you rushed past her. You didn’t even have a care to say sorry. If Hojo lost his patience waiting for you, he’d ignore your reports for the rest of the day and that would be problem. He was a man slightly screwed in the head but an exceptional mentor none the less. He’d given you priceless insights to boost your performance time and time again.

You ran through the morning drizzle with the book wrapped under your coat. Shinra tower was just three blocks away. You entered one of the entrance tunnel reserved for employees to avoid getting wetter. A guard saw you panting at the entrance, definitely suspicious toward the disheveled woman holding a bundle of fabric this early in the morning.

“Halt!” The guard approached as you stood still to catch your breath. “What’s inside that?”

Still panting from exertion, you answered with haste, “It’s a book.” Hojo must be wondering where the hell you were at this point. That man did have some crazy standards.

“Show what’s inside or you will be denied entrance.”

“Oh, Shiva.” You unfurled your coat with slight difficulty, revealing the cover of a thick book.

The idiot guard was still unconvinced. “Open it.”

You blinked incredulously, what in Ifrit’s name did this look like to him? “It’s a book! See? Plain old paper!”

When the guard didn’t say anything, you chose to just ignore him and go ahead, but he pulled the strap of your bag, causing you to jerk backward. “What’s in the bag?”

“For real?!” Hojo would definitely be pissed.

“Entrance will be deni-”

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately in a sense, your PHS rang again, and it was Hojo. He was pissed. You swallowed thickly and slid the device out of your pocket. Answering him was daunting, but not answering him meant certain hell.

“Yes, professor?”

“What is taking you so long, you slug?!”

You peered at the guard. “I’m currently denied entrance, sir.”

“What?!” He screeched so hard, you had to distance your ear from the speaker. “By who?”

You looked at what was written on the man’s nametag. “Uhm…. Markus P., sir.”

Hojo spat at the end of the line, “Tell him to let you pass or he’ll be the one passed into my lab.” Then the professor hung up, leaving an awkward silence to hang between you and Markus P. Said man was dumbfounded. You decided to pass on what your mentor had said, then, in a moment of peculiar understanding, his face turned five shades paler and let you pass.

You muffled a thanks.

Down in the lower levels of the tower, was Shinra’s Science & Research Division. The floors was each designated to one specific subdivision. Environmental research would be at the topmost, followed by civil engineering, mako development, bio-engineering, and lastly were Hojo’s personalized research labs. Only authorized personnel belonging to one of the subdivisions might enter. Every subdivision hosted plenty of confidentiality that not all members were permitted to move freely between the levels. You were one of the few who were granted more access due to working directly under Hojo’s mentorship.

The elevator ride was long enough to give you plenty of time fixing yourself. You put on your white coat and combed your hair between your fingers as best as you were able to. Thanks to the early hours, you’d only have to pass three other people beside Markus P., and two of them were overtime workers already knocked out on their desks. Hojo’s labs were inaccessible via the main lift. You had to transfer into a private entrance beyond the common area. The machine blinked green when it scanned your fingerprints, allowing you to descent straight into the professor’s office.

“Nomen. You’re finally here.”

“I’m sorry. I was-”

“Yes, yes.” Hojo waved his hand dismissively, not in the mood to hear your ramblings. “Come here child, and did you bring the book? Good.”

He led you away from the main hall to a winding pathways even you weren’t familiar with. You had the urge to ask where he planned to take you, but thought better. Hojo wouldn’t have called if this was anything but pertained to his research. There was a double metal door at the end of the aisle. Hojo scanned his palm to allow both of you access. You looked around, this was definitely an area you’d never ventured into. Everything about it was unfamiliar. There was an open space with multiple doors on its walls. Several glass windows showed medical facilities and rows of sealed bio-pods. Now you couldn’t scratch the itch to ask away.

“Professor, what’s in the pods?”

Hojo knew exactly what you were referring to. “Those, my dear, are the chrysalis of my latest experiments,” he said. “Let me show you a glimpse of their beauty.”

Your course teetered to one of the door. He entered with you on his tail. From this distance you could see series of numbers written at on each pod. There were about twenty of them connected to one another and by a single gargantuan pipe. Every pod had a small window about on its door, about as high as your head, but the glasses were tinted in black that you couldn’t get a glimpse of what was inside.

Hojo stopped in front of one labeled P-XII-001. He beckoned you to come closed and you did. A panel on the right side of the window was opened. Hojo typed a series of code and with a smooth whirr, the machine came to life. The tinted glass began to set alight, revealing the familiar green of liquid mako. You stood on your tiptoes to try and get a better look.

“Chimeras?”

“Yes!” Yelled Hojo with a childlike glee. “Oh…. Aren’t they exquisite?”

You observed with keen interest. The specimen behind that door wasn’t anything you had set your eyes on before. It looked humanoid with the characteristics of a cuahl – its skin was patterned, extended whiskers protruded from the top of its mouth, and two huge feline ears stood above its head.

“Taken straight from Gaea’s Cliff, I have enhanced its ability to thrive amongst the harsh winter of the north. They are suited to conquer mountainous terrain as they please.”

“Have you made prototypes, sir?”

“I have, and none were as perfect as this one would be.”

Amazing was too degenerative a word to describe him. You always wondered just how he found the time to create this things amidst the chaos of Shinra’s busiest department. Moreover, lately President Shinra himself had decreed expeditions to plant new reactors in strategic locations. Probably half of the Science & Research Division had to be deployed and here was Hojo, managing everything under his thumb like he was merely playing chess. Even Hollander, the Division Head himself, was having difficulties splitting his responsibilities.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He said suddenly, turning the pod back to sleep. “This is not what I had intended to show you. Let’s not get sidetracked, shall we?”

The professor moved along. In deafening silence you began to wonder who else had ever roamed this place. Curious tools and paraphernalia were scattered all around. You thought the winding path would never end, but then Hojo stopped once again, now before a small metal door. He opened it with, surprisingly, a set of analog keys instead of digitalized lock system.

“Now…. I know I need not ask this of you, Nomen. You have proven yourself reliable beyond my expectation. But still, I feel like I must inquire something.”

You stared at Hojo. His black eyes behind the round spectacles probed yours. Aware that you were treading on the edge of something unknown, you hesitantly nodded your head. “Yes, professor?”

His glasses flashed for a moment as his chin upturned.

“Do you like children?”

You needed a moment to let the question sink in.

“Do you?”

“I- I’m sorry…. I fail to see how that is relevant to….”

“Just answer me.”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, I don’t have any particular feeling, or, um…emotion toward them.”

Hojo nodded, apparently the answer was enough. “I suggest you get yourself used to one.” Then he pushed the door open.

Behind it a view you would least expect to be found in the deepest part of a Shinra lab was revealed. The professor had stepped aside to give you better vision. You doubted your eyes for a moment, but as you moved inside, slow on your feet, you knew that the object lying right before you was, in fact, a crib. A baby crib, complete with colorful ornaments and a heap of soft blankets. Such infantile properties were clashing horrendously with the sterile white and grey of the lab. You scanned around it to find even more objects of similar quality littered around the floor.

“What is…,” your words were cut short. As you casted your gaze back into the crib, the previously unmoving lump of velvety blankets had sat up to stare at you with equally curious eyes. They were most beautiful color of jade you had ever seen.

And they belonged to a baby.

“Behold, my ultimate creation.” Hojo slinked past you, waving his hand to the tiny form in the crib. Said infant followed the movement of your mentor with alertness uncanny to his age. “My son, Sephiroth.”

Right in that moment, your jaw dropped. That was…?

“Your s-son…?”

Hojo pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose. His face looked maniacal with a grin splitting it. “And you, Nomen, are the only one besides me who’s privileged to witness the wonders of this being. Give me the book and take him out.”

You absently handed the book to your mentor. He had asked to get…what was his name...? Sephiroth? “Pardon me, professor, but I’ve never lifted a child in my life.” You gawked at Hojo with wide eyes, hoping for leniency, yet Hojo had buried his nose inside the pages. Just like any other scientist and their tomes, he was immediately lost, deep in his own mind. That left you with his round-faced ‘offspring��� alone. The little boy directed those jade irises at you, blinking innocently. That only served to unsettle your nerves.

‘How does one even lift an infant? What if I drop him?!’

Steeling your resolve, for the sake of your mentor’s trust and your career, you lifted your palms toward the child. They were slightly trembling and your back was damp with perspiration. This felt ridiculous in a sense. Sephiroth was just a bundle of softness oblivious to your inner turmoil when you were only supposed to lift him up. And how in Shiva’s name you were going to get used to this, pray tell.

That calm eyes flicked to your hands as you froze in your way to hold him. You swore you saw him tilt his head one side like he actually understood what was going on, and lifted his arms. Either it was an encouragement or a force of habit, you didn’t know. Since the party involved had seemingly gave you an explicit clue on how to handle him, your hands finally landed around his middle. And, boy, was he soft.

A smile inadvertently bloomed on your lips.

Sephiroth was unexpectedly heavy when you lifted him. Or you were simply weak. The living, breathing bundle in your arms offered zero resistant. You cradled him to your chest and immediately the scent of chamomile and all the things calming hit your nose. You’d like to think this was exactly how purity would smell if it had one.

“…the aforementioned properties of its distilled liquid will cause the chain reaction of so and so and such…,” Hojo’s mumbling took your attention away from the boy that had begun to suckle on his own hand. You were considering taking it out but the professor addressed you first.

“Put him on the table.”

You walked to the mentioned furniture and carefully put him down, feeling somehow reluctant. Hojo came next to you, dumping the heavy volume in front of his child. He opened a chapter on distilled mako before pointing a finger upon one passage.

“Read, son.”

Your breath literally stopped in your chest. You made a sound teetering between a chortle and a gasp. The sun must have barely reached a quarter of its course yet today had presented so much anomaly. This infant couldn’t have lived longer than 3 winters and his self-proclaimed father asked him to read, an advanced mako science none the less! What in the world was going on, you didn’t know. Maybe your glorified mentor had finally snapped. He did have some screws loose in that big head of his.

Hojo casted a challenging look in no way you were capable of defeating, snapping you back in place. You quickly realized your slip and was planning to rectify that mistake when an ambiguous gurgling sound was heard.

If jaws could be taken off its hinges like a door, yours would certainly drop to the floor.

“mmako…ditti..aion”

“In Holy’s name….”

The pipsqueak just spelled freaking mako distillation, with baby language!

“…te…a- aometioned poppetie isth dilled…,” Sephiroth made a pause, his nose scrunching in confusion.

“Liquid…,” somehow noticing his difficulty, you unconsciously said the next word. The baby pouted for a moment before he tried to copy you and continue the rest of the passage. You were so dumbfounded, you didn’t realize when the miracle had ended until Hojo patted your back.

“I haven’t described your responsibility yet you’ve done it so well. I was right to choose you.”

There wasn’t a word to describe how you felt right then. Years of assisting research under Hojo’s mentorship had put you up against some of the strangest conditions. But this, by far, was the strangest of strange. You swore not once the thought ever crossed your mind, that you’d be a nanny when you signed up to Shinra’s exalted Science & Research Department, still green and a living proverb of an ‘empty cup ready to be filled’. You guessed there would always be things left to surprise you, huh….

“First of all, I have to remind you that what happens in my lab; my research, your work, and anything pertaining to my son, is of utmost confidentiality. You are to assist me in monitoring the growth and development of this child. To make sure he turns into the utmost prodigy, will be your sole purpose under my wing,” the professor was kind enough to explain only what you needed to hear, as you doubted you’d be able to process much right now. Not after this shocking turn of events. “You, Nomen, are thus now a member of my innermost circle of team. Pack your belongings and move to the tower. You are to stay near my son at all times.”

Your eyes opened wider than the Gold Saucer. Whether you wanted to thank Hojo for suddenly exalting your status and career prospect or sue him for dumping all this responsibility like cold water without consulting you first, you weren’t quite sure. You’d be justified if you sue him for labor extortion. But all was good still. You were the one who sold your soul to the devil when you requested Hojo a mentorship all those years ago after all.

Such was the prologue to your newest chapter in life. It was brusque and unceremonious to a fault. The oath of confidentiality forced you to keep mute. Nobody was to know about anything, not your shock, nor your bafflement upon how to properly approach the change. Your mentor was the only other person who knew and sadly was better posed as an academic than a colleague. He’d try to analyze the workings of your mind before you even finished telling a thing. Maybe, you consoled yourself, maybe some other human being would come into the picture later. Although you haven’t seen any, you were sure there must be more people wandering these labs besides just the professor and you.

At the beginning of the next day, this particular chapter had progressed quite dramatically. You found Shinra personnel moving to and fro your rickety abode with boxes and boxes of your belongings. Mainly consisted of books and clothes, then a small number of trivial objects like your favorite chocobowl with its moogle spoon. There were a couple of low-rank guards supervising the whole process, to which their purpose was quite ambiguous to you, but as they didn’t try to piss anyone off like Markus P., you supposed it was fine. Some nosy neighbors peeped with curiosity, either wanting to know with whom Shinra had business with or wondering if you were up to some shady deals with them. You tried your best to ignore them.

To be honest, the whole affair of moving was inconsequential in a greater sense. You have never felt any particular attachment to your home. There wasn’t much to incite emotional fixation, except, perhaps the memory of peace after a hard day’s work, after shower, buried beneath the layers in your bed. But it was just one between too many discontents accumulated throughout years – for instance, the heater could do with some maintenance. Winters were always arctic. You were gladder to finally break free from an old routine. Taking care of a Promethean scientist’s infant certainly opened the door to new and exciting opportunities.

The professor had prepared an empty room prior your arrival. It was deep down the basement of Shinra Tower, right next to his son’s. Whatever plan Hojo had for you to partake in, he surely thought it out well. Accommodation was taken care of and its basic facilities already provided. The new lodging had a bedroom, a living room, one spare room you planned to turn into a study, private bathroom and a kitchen. Though not by much, the space was larger than your previous home, and most importantly, the air conditioner worked out perfect. The only downside was an absence of windows. Bereft walls gave quite the forlorn impression without any chance to glimpse beyond them and into the sky. This would take some time getting used to, but you would manage. Slum residents beneath the plates had it way worse.

When the last of your boxes had been transported down, you learned two things at once. One, your hypothesis was proven true. There were other people besides you and the professor roaming these lowest levels. Janitors and technicians, mainly the latter, had been tirelessly helping you. And two, Sephiroth actually had another proper, professionally acclaimed babysitter named Eredith. You immediately approached to introduce yourself after chancing upon her with the infant. She had offered her name in return before excusing herself with the boy in her arms. It wasn’t the warmest of welcome. You didn’t mind one bit. Simply knowing that she existed to fill that role had lessened the burden you previously thought was much bigger. As they went down the aisles, the baby in her arms turned to stare at you with his jade irises. You absently waved a hand, which, to your delight and astonishment, was replied with a grabby-hand.

The rest of the day was spent unboxing. You had only a handful of things to be unpacked, except of course, the books. Half were deliberately left untouched for another day of labor. The muscles in your arm already screamed with exhaustion before you could even finish arranging the unpacked ones inside the shelves. That left you with two boxes abandoned in the corner of your to-be study. Everything else was already in place by night. You took a long bath afterward and only after you were sure pretty much everything had been settled, you allowed yourself to relax.

*******************************************************************************************

You made a humble portion of toast for breakfast to start the day. Hojo didn’t require you until sometime around 10 in the morning. He had told you to prepare a list of basic science textbooks, preferably illustrated, for his son to begin reading. So you made use of the free time to continue unboxing. From this collection alone, you could submit more than 50 titles to the professor. The existence of multiple bookshelves, each one bigger than what you previously had, displayed the diversity of your collection perfectly. The books were gathered into sections of congruous topics. There were plenty to choose, you had a habit of buying whatever writings caught your attention, though when you finally thought about it, nursery rhymes and clean energy looked astoundingly disparate next to one another.

Just before 10, Hojo took you on a tour while explaining the nature of your job. Beginning from the entrance where you first arrived, to the winding halls and the rooms he deemed necessary for your work. He had programmed an almost unlimited access for you. Only one area remained off-limit for some reason. Despite your curiosity, you decided against probing further unless the man himself allowed you in. Sometimes not knowing was actually easier. The ones you were allowed to enter was interesting enough. You even thought to propose borrowing the bio lab for your own research. Maybe later after having familiarized yourself better, you’d ask the professor.

Sephiroth was waddling around his room when you entered with Hojo sometime near noon. Eredith watched attentively from a distance with his bowl of lunch half eaten. The infant had been engrossed by a stuffed chocobo that he ignored everyone else completely. The professor glanced at his son once, dismissing the babysitter with a wave of his hand.

“Pardon me, sir, but Sephiroth hasn’t finished his lunch.” Eredith tried to explain.

“Your time is up, Edith. Just put the bowl somewhere, you are no longer needed.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t leave right away. She gave you a look that could almost be interpreted as a plea. Either she was asking for your help to reason with your mentor or actually hoping you’d continue feeding the baby, you could only stood in silence. The woman received a harsher repetition of the command before she dejectedly put the bowl down on a table. She bowed to Hojo and excused herself. It was the silent frustration on her face that suddenly moved you. Maneuvering with three heavy volumes in your cradle, you called out to her as she was about to close the door.

“I’ll continue feeding him, don’t worry.”

She paused to look at you as if you had grown a wing. Her smile was subtle yet genuine as can be when it appeared. “Thank you,” she said with relief, then left.

“Troublesome woman, that one,” you heard Hojo mutter in her absence. “Sephiroth this, Sephiroth that. Always making excuses for her own incompetence.”

You’d been here barely a day. Everyone but Hojo were still strangers to you. There was no way your input on the matter would be credible, so you opted to make none. You simply headed to the table where the last half of Sephiroth’s lunch was, putting the books you brought right next to it.

“Come here, Nomen.” Your mentor gave you a clipboard. He showed the papers attached to it. There was a table containing multiple statements which had to be filled and sometimes rated from scale one to ten. “My son is unique. He is far beyond his age, he knows how to process more and more complex stimulus everyday as his adaptability runs high compared to most, mediocre infants.” You had never heard your mentor spoke with that level of pride before. “But alas,” he casted his eyes at the sight of Sephiroth not six feet away, playing with the same stuffed animal, “A child is still a child.”

Hojo closed the distance between him and his son. His figure towered over the boy. “He lacks the ability to focus on what matters.” Sephiroth didn’t even heed the other’s presence, still too happily hugging the chocobo when Hojo took it from his tiny hands. For a second there was this stifling, immovable tension going on between them. A battle of willpower between a father and his son. Hojo kept the toy away from him, staring the infant down with intense scrutiny. “Bring the book here.” You snapped out of your trance, scurrying to get the book for the man. He exchanged the book with it. In lack of a better thought of what to do, you just held it like an idiot.

The child looked really upset. His mouth curved downward, his hands made tiny fists where they previously held the stuffed animal, and his eyes…. You thought he was about to cry, but looking closer, those jade irises actually held an entirely different emotion. Never have you ever saw a baby held such anger in silence. Children are supposedly prone to tears and tantrums. Not with him. He, for the second time, looked uncannily beyond his age. It was honestly ironic because mere moments ago he looked exactly how any infant would with the toy you currently had.

“Playtime’s over, son,” Hojo shoved the book closer. He opened its first chapter. “You have so much potential. I didn’t go through the trouble to create you with failure in mind, so don’t waste your time.”

That immovable tension increase tenfold. You shifted in your spot, wondering why the mere scene of a parent scolding his child seemed to bother you. But then again, seeing as the parent was your mentor and his child had the tendency to be creepily uncanny each time you saw him, this couldn’t be considered normal at all, and you didn’t have a child anyway, you wouldn’t know.

“Make sure you don’t miss anything on that list.” He said to you. Sephiroth was still glaring at him from the floor. “All the tool you will require is in there,” he said, pointing at an overhead cabinet. “If you have questions, message me.”

“Should I call Eredith back when I’m finished?”

Hojo snorted. “Just leave after you’re done. This child gets too spoiled with her.”

Like countless times before, you shut your mouth even though you disagreed. That child was independent enough. Hojo just had illogical standards most times.

“I will leave you to it, then. Report to me later tonight.” Unexpectedly, he began to go. You hastily asked the man in panic. “Wha- You’re not staying, professor?”

Said professor sighed with his distinct flair. “I am occupied and will be for some time. The President require me. That’s why I must entrust some things to you, Nomen. I believe you can handle it well. Now, I shall leave you to it.”

Just like Eredith previously did, he was gone, leaving you and his less than pleased infant alone. You peered at him nervously. He was hunched over the book that looked too big for his tiny figure. The child still looked upset.

“Um….” There was that list in your one hand and his toy in the other. You tried to weigh the value of each. As you inspected what was on the list, you instantly thought it was both intriguing and ridiculous.

  PROJECT-S

Report: 07-10-1983

J-01.S1.16817.00599.000.6

Subject Name: Sephiroth

D.O.B.: 05-05-1981

Age: 2 year 5 month

 Physical Development

Cephal

Circumference:

Shape:

Facio

Length:

Width:

Iris color:

Teeth condition:

Brachium

Length:

Circumference:

Flexibility:

Strength:

(….)

The whole first page of the document was all about the boy’s physical growth. There were even 10 pages in total, things were quite normal up to the point where Hojo actually wanted you to rate the child’s understanding of certain vocabularies like ‘cathode’ and ‘anode’. You didn’t mean to underestimate Sephiroth’s ability as he had proven to be quite the anomaly just after three brief meetings, you simply found it hard to believe that a two-year-old had to put up with this level of standard. You shook your head incredulously.

Looking at him now, it kind of answered some of the mystery his uncanny behavior omitted. If Hojo had done something to make ‘his son’ biologically enhanced, he was bound to be different in some ways.

“Sephiroth?” He gave you a scrunched nose and nothing else. The child fumbled with the hem of his shirt under your constant gaze, as if hesitating with whatever he decided to do next. You were about to struck a conversation when his tiny hands landed on the book.

He began to read.

“In e be..begin’in o’ e book-”

“Um…Sephiroth?”

“-a in…indodooction o ele..men-”

“Hey,” you put a hand to cover the page gently. “Seph, stop for a second, yeah?”

He turned to look at you with the most flustered expression a baby could ever muster.

“I haven’t told you my name, right? My name’s Nomen.”

There was silence after your awkward attempt at introduction. He still didn’t say a word, just stared at you with the same expression. You started to wonder if he actually get what you said. The child got tired of looking at you after a few seconds and dived back into the book, but you were persistent yourself.

You plopped the stuffed animal in front of his line of vision.

This time when he looked at you, not only was he flustered, but his eyes also round with surprise. He was visibly teetering between holding himself back or just accept the offering. Almost a minute passed with him freezing up. To your surprise he pushed the animal back to you. His face looked so conflicted it made you feel bad.

You quickly put the toy back on top of the book. “Didn’t you want to play?”

Sephiroth now fumbled with his fingers. His pout was back. “Tis a test….”

“No! I’m not testing you, kid. Oh, by the Goddess.” Your lips turned to a smile. Without even giving it a second thought, you patted the boy’s head. He then froze again. It was unclear whether he felt offended by the touch. Do kids even feel offended? Alas, you began pulling your hand away, but he suddenly grabbed your wrist with tiny hands and put it back on his hair, looking at you with an annoyed expression.

He liked it.

Just like you would with a cat, you petted his head. He leaned into your touch with the same pissed off face, but his body was relaxed. You took the chance to shove his chocobo at him. Fortunately, he immediately accepted. The two of you stayed that way for a while. It felt comfortable. Your heart was warmed up in the face of this unexpected softness.

“I promised Eredith you’ll finish lunch, sooo…before we start everything, let’s eat first, okay?”

His jade irises peered from below your palm. He looked unsure.

“You can keep the chocobo. I won’t take it away. I promise!”

After he nodded, you immediately took the bowl temporarily abandoned on the table. He was nothing but cooperative and you were relieved for it. Sephiroth munched his food with the toy never leaving his hands. You utilized the interval between each spoon to start measuring the boy’s physique. He was quite the slow eater, taking all the time in the world to chew. By when he finally finished lunch, you had managed to fill the first page of the document.

Hours went by unnoticed as the examination process was carried on. He time and time again amazed you with the ability to maintain almost unwavering focus. He actually always wanted to play, sometimes allowing himself to take a toy lying around when your attention was elsewhere. But once you subjected him to another test, he rallied all of himself to it. It was mesmerizing to watch.

Somewhere along the way, Eredith actually came knocking at the door. She brought biscuits and a bottle of milk for the infant’s afternoon meal. The woman didn’t say much to you, she just politely asked to feed Sephiroth again and brought the empty bowl away. Nothing much happened after that. You allowed the boy to munch on his snack while you asked him questions or told him to perform some task.

At some point you came across the question of whether Sephiroth understood some terms written on the paper – the cathode and anode one. You sighed exasperatedly. The child was currently drawing something resembling his favorite stuffed animal, if you weren’t mistaken. You leaned over him, asking just for sure, “Is that your chocobo?”

“Uh-huh.”

You nodded appreciatively. His skill was decent enough for his drawing to be understood. That indicated a capability to understand and replicate the existence of objects around him. You quickly took a note.

“Um…kid?”

“Hm?”

“Can you read these two words for me?” You showed the nouns for him to spell. He studied them momentarily and tried. “Ca’ffode an’ an….”

“Anode.”

“…aode.”

“That’s right,” you gave him a smile and another pat on the head. “Do you know what they mean?”

He shook his head hesitantly.

“Alright….” You thought to yourself the best way of explaining it to him. “Do you know battery?”

“Un…yea.”

“Cathode is the part of a battery that has the [+] symbol, while anode has [-].”

Sephiroth stared at you silently. He didn’t seem to get what you mean, so you looked around. Amidst the toy lying around was a fake gun, colored in bright colors appealing to children. You took it and opened the battery case.

“Here, look, there’s a [+] sign here and a [-] sign. This one is the cathode and this one is anode. The battery has power, it runs to the gun from here to here. Without one of these two, the power is stuck in one side, just like a road that’s blocked.”

“They…’re like ‘oors?”

You smiled fondly, “Yes, yes! They’re like doors. If they’re not set in properly, the power from the battery won’t flow to the gun, just like one can’t pass through a door if it’s not opened.”

The boy was astute. You never had to explain things twice as long as you gave him a good example. Filling the rest of the document became nothing but a breeze. Before you knew it, you had completed the day’s report. Sephiroth also looked bored, the chocobo was back in his cradle as he laid on the floor, his tiny fingers fumbled with its feathery butt. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. This was the first time you interacted with him and you could already see various shades of his personality. At times, his calm demeanor and self-restraint made you feel like there was someone much older trapped inside that tiny body, then there were also times like these, when he behaved innocently like every other child in the Planet did. He was highly intriguing at such a young age and you dared to bet he would continue to be so when he grows up.

Having nothing else to do left but gawk at the tiny fluff caressing a chocobo butt, you took another brief moment to appreciate it before preparing to leave. Your task was over technically, but you couldn’t help feeling like there was more you could do. Then an idea struck your mind.

“Seph, stay here, okay? I’m gonna get something for you.”

You hurried to your room, heading straight to the bookshelves. At the children’s section was a compilation of nursery rhymes and tales. You scanned the titles with keen eyes, finding the one you were looking for right away, then quickly headed back to Sephiroth’s. The boy was still on his back when you returned. You approached him with an enthusiastic smile plastered on your face.

“Look what I’ve got.”

The boy looked at you half-heartedly. He was definitely done for the day. Then he saw the book you had brought. He quickly sat up to take it.

Below the title – Pickle in a Fickle! – was a picture of one golden chocobo, just like his toy, staring at two gysahl greens completely bamboozled. “Chochobo!” Sephiroth pointed at the character.

“Yes, the same as yours. His name is Pickle.”

“’ickle…,” the boy copied. He wasted no time opening it, eyes seemingly glittering with wonder to see illustrated pages instead of black and white passages. You waited patiently for him to start reading. But the moment he saw some passages, he pouted.

You blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“’m tired weadin’.”

Ah…. That made sense. He’d been forced to spell hundreds of words in a day. Some people didn’t even bother to read. The young boy had accomplished nothing short of a feat. You supposed he was justified to call it a day.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

His giddiness was back instantaneously, “Yea! Wead it!”

So began your habit of bringing children’s books to him. He spent morning ‘till sundown doing his best with the examination and you rewarded him with new tale almost every day. He was always tired by the end that you had to read to him. The young boy listened with rapt attention, sometimes sitting beside you while playing with Pickle – he named his chocobo after you narrated the story, some other time getting into your lap to see the pages as you read.

Eredith started to give you smiles that grew bigger each time you saw her, though you two still hadn’t talked much aside from some pleasantries and formalities. She was always there when you came in the morning, then proceeded to make herself scarce all day long, only coming in once or twice to deliver foods and drinks. By sundown, you’d be bidding little Seph a goodbye. Eredith was already by the door when you exited. You nodded your head politely and let her be to do her job.

By night, Hojo would call you to his office and ask for report. He’d inspect the document you filled every single day, taking notes of certain aspects that he deemed significant. The professor was overall pleased with his son’s progress, seemingly unaware of the new habit you had helped him build. If your mentor knew anything about you adding non-academic books – nonsense jabberwockies, he’d said – to his son’s curriculum, he had certainly done nothing to stop it.

Sephiroth had become much more open to you after a month of constant meeting. He would happily stand by the door every day at 10 o’clock, the time you were supposed to get in. He kept urging you to hurry with the tests so he gets to hear another story. You gladly did as he asked, it was a win-win situation for all anyway. The effects of your diligence was showing and it affected everyone. Hojo rarely spoke harshly to his son nor Eredith, he gave you a raise, and most importantly, approved your proposal to borrow the bio lab for the sake of your own research. He didn’t question your intentions much, simply asked you to not let it hinder your main responsibility with Sephiroth. He only allowed you to use them at night when you were done reporting. Without hesitation you agreed.

Life became much easier than ever before. For once things were actually going the right way. You couldn’t be more grateful, to the professor, to fate, and to the fluff of silver and jade who was the reason of it all. By the time you went to bed, the only thing that came to your mind was which story you should bring tomorrow.