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holly-fixation · 2 years

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Tainted Child: Chapter 8

Summary so far: Claudia Strife’s son is is overly devoted to her. He only calls her ‘Mother’. And when Cloud speaks of ‘The Great Mother’, she has to worry. They inadvertently caused mako to boil, starting with the Nibelhiem reactor as the epicenter. Hunted by Shinra, now they need to face the consequences of their actions. In a laboratory in Shinra HQ.

Based on this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 8: Interrogation

The blonde mother guarded her young child in her arms from the moment they disembarked the Airship, protectively glaring and flinching from anyone who attempted to touch her sleeping son. They both committed the crime. They both agreed to the consequences. But they would take them together. And she’d fight with every fiber of her being to keep him in her arms. She expected the escort to take them to some kind of jail, probably on the lower or possible basement floors of the massive building, so when the guards led them through the doors to the 64th floor, every instinct blared. Shinra made them new subjects in a project, didn’t they? That was the only logical explanation she could come up with. Another subset of the Jenova Project. What did Sephiroth and the cadets report that led to this?

The hallways were small, cramped and suffocating as they made their way through. But from here, she could see inside the rooms, the multiple machines with large claws and needles attached to metal chairs with thick restraints. Damn it. This was her fault. At the end of the hall, the guards were replaced with scientists in lab coats and deadly, dextrous robots. Through more elevators and hallways, she struggled to map out the area. There was no time to survey the dark, open, cylindrical chamber before they were forced into their final destination. Most of the metal room was solid and about two stories tall, the only exception being the fields which blocked an observation room for only one of the walls. Metal shutters blocked the entrance from below. Both the robots and scientists remained inside, but lined the walls instead of gathering around the blondes. All except one, who took out a key and removed their handcuffs before retreating as well. The mother adjusted her son to a more comfortable position, his body supported by her left arm and rubbing his back soothingly with her right hand.

“Welcome to the Drum,” a slimy voice rang through the speakers, making Claudia look to the fields above, spotting the greasy black haired scientist with round black glasses. “The most technologically advanced facility on the planet. I am Professor Hojo, and you both have the honor of being my newest test subjects.”

She tightened her hold protectively around her boy. “Is this what Shinra does with all their prisoners?”

He cackled, not even having the decency to mute his microphone before continuing. “Heavens no.” He glared down at them, above his black glasses in challenge. “But I think you know why you’re valuable.”

There was only one answer to that, and it pointed a loaded gun at her little boy. So she shook her head in attempted confusion.

The scientist sighed, visibly mumbling something to himself before speaking again. “Don’t play coy with me. We’ll begin with separate interrogations and decide what to do from there.”

Separate? Separate! “No,” Claudia begged, pressing her son closer against her, a hand in his spiky hair. “No, please, I’ll answer every one of your questions and I won’t interfere with his but please don’t separate us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take you at your word.” The robots approached her from all sides. “Do make this quick and surrender the child.”

“No,” She growled, counting how many machines threatened her with her eyes. “He is my son. I will not give him to anyone.”

“Very well.”

Her sword and materia were gone. The only thing left to rely on was her strength. She broke the first two with multiple kicks, unable to use her arms due to the very thing she was trying to protect. But she couldn’t destroy any of them while limited like this. When more robots attacked, she couldn’t keep up, no matter the skill of her fight. Four of them pinned her to the ground, her strength was not enough. She felt multiple needles pierce her body, from both the weapons and the scientists. She tried to force her eyes open, but the sedatives worked their way through their veins. The last two images she saw were the robots retreating and the small movement of her rousing son.

…

Claudia had no idea how long she was out, but when she came to, she was in a new room with a scientist and robot at each of her sides. Her mind was fuzzy, but even through the disorientation, her body snapped to her feet. Where’s Cloud? The only question echoed in her mind. As she looked around from her spot, she quickly realized where she was: at a control panel behind the force field. She ran to it without delay.

Dread claimed her heart when she saw the room.

Her little boy was sitting in a chair, speaking to the scientist that captured them with…excitement? He couldn’t sit still as he spoke with wide eyes, practically bouncing in his seat at both his own words and the scientists, all but beaming at their conversation. His blonde hair looked almost silver under the fluorescent lights. There was a table between them with various foods and sweets to coax her child, but every meal remained untouched. She silently thanked the gods that her son was smart enough to avoid possibly getting drugged by this insane man. Not a single word they spoke broke through the field, entrapping her in silence.

Yet what terrified her more than anything was the equally interested and passionate grin on the scientist’s face at her son’s overly detailed responses.

“Cloud!” She tried to yell to him, praying the microphone was left on and running up to the control board. She flipped every switch and button on the panel. However, her boy did not respond in the slightest, not even a glance of his little blue eyes, and not a single sound or light shifted in the room.

“Wait until he is finished, and then you will go inside,” One of the scientists informed. And she had no choice but to obey and watch her little boy with the overwhelming foreboding in her heart.

* * *

Cloud groaned softly as he clenched his hands and adjusted his body, exhaustion finally releasing part of its grip for him to open his eyes. The room was bright and blurry, making him close his eyes again before he sat up. He yawned once, a small squeak emitting from his throat. Then his eyes cracked open. “Mother!” He called as his memory returned to him, rapidly scanning the room for any sign of her. All the doors and shutters were closed, and the force field of glowing hexagons was solid black inside the shapes. It might as well be another wall. Then he saw the table, a standard plastic table with two chairs and so many dishes that made his stomach growl. Choco nuggets, pizza, ramen, cupcakes, cookies, everything on the table was cooked to temptation, the combination of scents tantalizing his nose. Cloud swallowed, hard, trying to rid himself of the sensation and regain self control. When was the last time he ate? He crossed his arms to distract the feeling of hunger as he looked around again. Then he glanced at his wrists, they were free of the handcuffs. He didn’t know when that happened. He didn’t know where he was. “Mother!” He yelled again, unable to hide the fear in his voice. Where was she?! This certainly wasn’t the prison at Shinra HQ. The last thing he remembered was pleading with Sephiroth to go north.

Then one of the sliding doors opened, claiming Cloud’s full attention, and he backed away to a wall, ready to either run or attack. A black haired scientist with a ponytail and black glasses entered the room holding nothing but a clipboard. Okay, he didn’t need to attack. Small victories.

“You were asleep when you first arrived, so we have not been properly introduced,” He spoke in what seemed to be a naturally slimy voice, the doors sliding closed behind him. Though his eyes were absolutely locked on Cloud, Cloud could not see them through the glare of the dark glasses. “Welcome to my laboratory. I am Doctor Hojo, the head scientist here. You may call me Doctor or Professor Hojo.”

“Can I just call you ‘Professor’?” Cloud countered far quicker than he expected to, a small challenge hidden behind childlike innocence.

Hojo smirked at the child’s attempt to provoke him. “You may.”

“Where is my mother?” He needed to know. He needed to make sure she was okay.

Then the scientist gestured to the black hexagons. “The other room, watching us. She’s perfectly safe, I assure you.”

Cloud looked, but he could not tell if she was really there. Then he turned back to the scientist, still a bit hesitant.

“You should probably eat something,” the professor suggested with a wave of his hand over the meals. “When was the last time you ate?”

The boy ignored him. “...Why are we in your lab?”

Hojo placed a hand on the back of the closest chair. “Because you both have a connection to my greatest project.”

His blue eyes went wide and before he could stop himself- “The Jenova Project is yours?”

He nodded sharply, a curled smirk growing on his face. “My life’s work.”

“Then why did you keep The Great Mother in acid?” the little boy questioned earnestly.

The black brows knitted in confusion, dropping to a frown. “I’m afraid I do not know what you’re talking about.”

He made gestures with his hands as he tried to explain. “Jenova. The Great Mother. Her glass tank was filled with acid! She was in so much pain! Why did you do that?!”

Hojo shook his head. “It was a smooth solution with deionized water. I tested it myself, boy.” He seemed to swallow some other rude response before continuing, a dirty look appearing and disappearing as soon as it came. “We tracked her entire nervous system and did not see a response. What could I possibly gain from hurting her?”

“I don’t know!” He was so confused, but he dropped his anger after his final outburst. “But you did it so I had to ask…”

Hojo’s eyes squinted in curiosity as he analyzed the boy’s words. “How do you know what she felt?”

“She told me,” The boy stated simply.

The professor rolled his hand. “Elaborate.”

“Well,” He rocked his head from side to side, “first she showed me in a dream and then she nodded after I woke up. I was in her tank and I saw the metal angel from behind. I had these things sticking out of my back, and the thing under my feet was a part of me too. I had to be her.”

If this boy was lying, then pulling more details of what he saw in the dream would be an easy lie after seeing the altar. No, the way to learn was the opposite. “She nodded?”

“Yes. She always visited me at night,” Cloud answered honestly. “At first all I could see were glowing red eyes, but then I saw her face, and her hair, and her shoulders!” His excitement at the memory peaked. “She was always so pretty. So kind… Most of the time she would just watch. She was like…” He thought on it for a moment, “a guardian angel…”

“Then why drop her in the Lifestream?”

“Because the Lifestream is so much better than the acid. It’s freedom.” It made so much sense to him, after experiencing the dream. Cloud watched the scientist gesture to the open chair, and the boy took a seat, swinging his feet as he continued. It was…fun, talking to someone with just as much interest in The Great Mother. “She felt the Lifestream was freedom, like a step toward the stars, the cosmos! But she couldn’t even be on The Planet when she was stuck in that glass. Why did you keep her there?”

He took a seat as well with an exhale. “It was the only way we could further preserve her body. Her cells were active within the tank, even if her body had no consciousness.”

“But they were less active out of the tank, right?” Cloud asked rhetorically.

“They weren’t active at all.”

“You didn’t wait long enough. In stone, her entire body was in a hibernation-like state, and her cells barely moved as a result, Professor. They were more active in the liquid because it hurt her. Did you try to bond with her when you found her?”

He raised a brow. How did this kid know they found her in a rock formation? What the hell was this child trying to talk about? “What do you mean by bond?”

“Bond! That's how we healed the disease,” He carried on, his leg shaking with the energy he wasn’t releasing. “Mother and I were born bonded. And we had to bond Tifa in order for her pain to stop.”

He flipped a page on the board. “Pain from the disease, I assume?”

He nodded quickly. “It was supposed to be her gift, but Tifa and others got sick. I think The Great Mother was trying to reach someone old enough to save her, but that’s just a guess. Everyone would’ve been okay if their bodies didn’t try to fight the gift. Tifa’s father almost died! Mother said it was because their bodies worked too hard to get rid of it and ended up hurting themselves.”

“So the immune system turned the disease fatal?”

Cloud nodded, then tilted his head. “How does it work when you make Her monsters?”

Hojo laughed mockingly. This child blatantly asked him for more information. Did he not know this was an interrogation? “Monsters are made through over-saturation of mako, boy.”

He nodded again. “The Great Mother absorbs mako too, like the body does, but a lot of it, Professor. But we didn’t have any in the village, so no one was strong enough to handle her gift.”

Another dark chuckle, dangerous thoughts and potential experiments running through his head. “If they had both this ‘gift’ and mako-”

“They’d be in SOLDIER.” Cloud watched the full interest return to the scientist’s face. “They’d be average SOLDIER members, right? But Her child is different.”

“‘Her child’?” He questioned without a beat.

The boy tilted his head in confusion. “Her child. You know him, right, Professor?” There was a small pause, a small test, before he answered himself casually, “It’s Sephiroth. That’s why he’s so strong, stronger than anyone! He is The Great Child! We needed him to take back the gift so no one would die.”

“How did ‘taking the gift back’ work?” He crossed something off on the board.

“The gifted person puts their hand on his chest, then I cast cure through their hand, loop it through his chest, and then the magic ends back at the gifted’s hand. His body filters out the gift and the remaining cure heals the cells taken from the transition.” He sighed softly before looking up at the scientist with an oddly desperate expression, a secret on his mind. “Please don’t tell my mother this.” A confirming nod was the only response, and Cloud wasn’t sure if he could believe it. Still, he needed to tell someone. “Sometimes, the gift would loop back into me. Not all of it!” He waved his hands to stop the potential questions. “Just a part. And it…” the little boy looked away. “It made my bond stronger…”

“What do you mean by that?”

Suddenly every explanation left the boy’s mind like water through his fingers. He shrunk back into the chair. “It’s just stronger… I… I don’t know… Before, I always wanted to see her on the mountain, but now that she’s in the Lifestream…”

“Which mountain? Where?” The question came without a moment for the child to breathe.

But it was also the easiest answer, and he shot up. “Mount Nibel. And after the dream, the reactor on Mount Nibel.”

For the first time since entering the room, Hojo grinned his wicked twist of terrifying curiosity. “And did you tell Sephiroth about Jenova?”

He nodded eagerly. “Of course! He was really confused at first but he really wants a mother!”

The annoyed sneer did not go unnoticed, but his question came as a surprise to the boy. “Why do you keep saying ‘Mother’?”

He tilted his head and squinted his eyes in confusion. “I’ve always said Mother. Is that wrong?”

The scientist shook his head, taking a breath and changing the topic to avoid a seemingly pointless detail. “Final question: is there anything you haven’t told me about Jenova?”

Cloud looked down at his hands in thought. He told the scientist almost everything. Her connection, her bond, her disease, her son. Did he have more information? The professor seemed genuinely interested in The Great Mother. He never saw anyone with interest without looming dread. Was he missing something? Oh! Of course! The airship! He picked his head up immediately. “She’s in-!”

Just as Cloud started his final sentence, the doors slid open, and the Silver Soldier stood in its wake, his sword drawn in his left hand as he stepped closer, threatening the tip to the back of Hojo’s head.

“That’s enough, Cloud,” the young soldier silenced the boy completely before turning his ferocious eyes to the scientist, and Cloud nodded in affirmation before taking one of the nuggets off the dish.

Hojo tsked, adjusting on the seat to side eye the soldier. “You have no authority in my laboratory.”

“You have no authority to access my schedule, so call it a fair trade,” He spat.

An angered exhale left his disgusting mouth. “Is that what this is about? Really?”

“Let. The boy. Go.” The mako in his eyes burned against the shameless behavior of the scientist.

Hojo slowly stood from the chair and turned to the silver soldier with a knowing open smirk. “Oh, I know what this is about.” He didn’t care that Sephiroth’s sword followed his movement, resting directly under his chin. “I guarantee you, this is only an interrogation. There’s only one other test I expect from them today, and it’s highly unlikely they will retain any damage.”

His face flashed with wrath before returning to only sharpened silver brows. “He’s a child. You shouldn’t have them in the first place.”

“Boy-”

“Don’t.”

“There was an unidentified disease outbreak in their village, and you expected them to go to prison?” He countered logically, spitefully.

“I expected a trial, like command decided,” Sephiroth spat, straightening his stance. “And a normal quarantine, that should have included myself and my men if it was truly quarantine at all.”

Hojo waved him off with a sigh. “Please. You’re fine. You know that.”

Now his sword drew blood, the faintest drop landing on the wrinkled white lab coat.

The only response was an annoyed wince. “Sephiroth, put the sword down so we can talk about this.”

“I will do as I please,” He seethed.

The lights of the room dimmed to red, but the scientist calmly held up a hand and made a cut throat motion. He turned slightly to the observation window. “Don’t do anything.” Then he turned back to Sephiroth with a challenge. “And what do you please? What do you really want, boy?”

The sword ever so slightly shook as an unguarded expression took hold of the soldier, almost afraid, almost. The blade between them started as a weapon, but it quickly turned into a wall, a wall to protect himself by forcing distance. Stay back.

“Is it just to threaten me? To let this child go? Or is it to ask him more questions about your mother?”

Three days ago, that comment would stop the conversation and the threat. Now his strength rose, and he scowled before taking a step closer.

“He wants to go north,” The little boy at the table, that was now completely devoid of choco nuggets, answered, gaining both of their shocked and confused eyes in response.

“What did you just say?” Hojo questioned.

“He wants, to go north,” He repeated simply.

“Why?”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth immediately gained the eyes of the boy. “Don’t answer any more of his questions.”

Cloud nodded then looked down, fidgeting with his hands in silent apology. He was only trying to help.

Hojo grew an arrogant smirk as he slowly gained the glare of the soldier. “That was my final question. You’re both free to go.”

The shutters under the observation room opened, and the blonde mother barreled through, immediately capturing her son in her embrace, which he returned as always. “Cloud, are you okay?!”

Cloud nodded, placing a hand on her back. “I’m okay, Mother. I’m okay.”

Sephiroth’s inhuman eyes couldn’t resist the sight, the mother and son desperately embraced in front of him. His sword fell to his side, still brandished, but ever so weak, as he all but forgot the scientist as more confusing feelings wriggled in his core. Even his breathing changed at the sight of the mother’s hand running through the child’s dandelion hair.

Hojo smirked vindictively as he casually walked around the soldier and placed a hand on a heavy shoulder. “See?” His voice coated the loving scene before them in venom. “All is well, boy.”

Sephiroth just stood there, completely stunned, frozen, entranced by too many tearing, dissonant emotions attacking his very soul, before control returned and he snapped his head to his shoulder with renewed ferocity. However, the scientist was long gone, and he heard the sound of the doors sliding closed behind him.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the silver soldier to return to the SOLDIER floor for various scheduled events, leaving the family on their own against the scientist. The mother was next in line for interrogation by the scientist. Compared to Cloud, her answers were purely logical. She never talked about what she thought unless explicitly asked, and she never gave more detail without deliberate reason. What happened, how it happened, why she went to the reactor, why her child followed, how they convinced Sephiroth: every answer to these questions was as short as possible. She didn’t have any new information about Jenova like her son did, thus her interrogation was much shorter. Then they were moved to their room in the lab. Realistically, their new cell. One bed, a couch, a desk, and a tiny bathroom. What more could they need? The walls were bare, and although there were no papers or books, there were plenty of art supplies.

The blonde family did not spend long in the room, however. They were given a meal, mostly the remainder of the temptation meal and supplements of god knows what to give them the necessary nutrition. Claudia assumed the scientists already ran out of reasons to play nice, and their next meal wouldn’t be as pleasant. A few moments after they finished, an escort led them to another room just like theirs. Except this room bursted with color along the first wall, almost calming compared to the minimal interior. Cardboard boxes and medical boxes littered the room and the two rugs on the ground. But the interior did not concern the mother.

What did concern her was the woman with red dress in the back corner of the room, who protectively guarded a little girl, and the panic terror they both watched her family with as the guards left the room and locked the door.

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: I spoiled you guys with this quick update. Next chapter won’t be as quick. Hope you enjoyed it! (more notes in the tags)

#ff7 #ffvii #sephiroth #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #jenova #final fantasy 7 #claudia strife #professor hojo #thanks for reading!! hope you enjoy!!#next update will be Angelic Aid #the child aeriseph one #Haven't touched that in a while #Then it will be An Astral Myth #the AU based on the beautiful Safer Sephiroth statue #that I wrote an entire mythology for lol #Hope you're ready!#tainted child

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errantnight · 1 year

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It was Tuesday, nothing was supposed to happen on Tuesdays. Nothing upset the routine unless things had gone very wrong - like if one of the experiments in another part of the lab had escaped or injured someone. What if something had happened to Cloud?

#ff7 #ffvii #fanfic #sephiroth #cloud strife #professor hojo #Raised by Wolves #FF7 AU

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rottenpumpkin13 · 5 months

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Some more of the Cloud pretends to be Sephiroth AU

*Hojo wakes up in a cold sweat in the infirmary*

Hojo: I know how I can prove that that inferior reject isn’t my greatest specimen. Jenova provided the dna for my experiment, and they look nothing alike!

*Hojo furiously digs around in his old files until he finds an old, weathered photo*

Hojo: Aha!

In the photo is an almost naked pale skinned woman with a glowing red eye peaking out from under her pALE BLONDE SPIKES??!?

Part 2 of this post

*Professor Hojo thinks he found a way to crack the real Sephiroth. He tracks down "Cloud Strife" and corners him*

Hojo: Alright! I checked Cloud Strife's file and it states that he has a mother in Nibelheim.

Sephiroth: Which I do.

Hojo: Is that so? Tell me then, how does it feel to have a mother?

Sephiroth:

Hojo:

Sephiroth: *sweating*

Hojo: A-ha! I knew it! This proves that—ACK!

*Cloud hits him with the door as he bursts into the room*

Cloud: Did somebody say mother?

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #cloud strife

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theawkwardterrier · 9 months

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Academic Antagonism, Scholastic Strife

Steggy Week 2k23, day 3 Prompt: AUs and crossovers

Summary: The history department at Shield University includes a pair of professors with a particular level of collegiate conflict.

Thanks to @steggyfanevents for hosting!

It is, essentially, a matter of course every September.

Angie has been the history department administrator for long enough that she can sense the approaching storm in the air. She breaks into the apology gift card she got last semester to buy herself the biggest, fanciest coffee from her favorite campus café and sets her jaw as she arrives at her desk.

The first student is at the doors to the building the moment they open for business hours.

"I need to speak to someone." There goes the bag, plunking down on her desk (actually clean for once! She'd made an effort to get rid of her host of reminder post-its before the start of the new school year, and now look) as a hand reaches in to yank out a paper schedule as some kind of evidentiary prop. "Look, I was placed in—"

Angie looks over the boy, playing the sort of instinctive guessing game that at least offers a tiny bit of entertainment to the whole process. Unfortunately, he has a copy of Steve's latest book sticking out of the bag, which takes most of the fun out of it (although he does have a copy of The Fountainhead there too which, if it's not class reading, either Steve or Peggy would have fun with). Sighing, Angie goes through her dutiful patter nevertheless: "Both Professor Carter and Professor Rogers currently have entirely full rosters for all of their lectures and seminars. Which session would you like to be placed on the waitlist for?"

“I’ve got to get into Professor Rogers’ Tuesday/Thursday afternoon section — his take on urban history is completely—”

“I wouldn’t sleep on Professor Carter,” says a passing man. “Stick with her and she'll teach you something.”

Angie purses her lips at the back of the man's blond head as he exits the building and then resigns herself to listening to a very earnest undergraduate trying to convince her that his entire future depends on getting a seat in Steve’s Metropolitics of Race and Place course.

Even non-majors will often make their chosen class a priority to arrange their schedule around, simply based on the reputations of Professors Rogers and Carter, and, all told, more than a few people will get shuffled around, trading into the course that they want. Whether it will be before Angie goes through both her café gift card and her bottle of Advil is anyone's guess.

“—and if you don't think that the prevalence of racialized propaganda was unique and endemic to the period, and of course led into its use in the Second World War, I simply don't know what to say to you."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't a part of it, but it only seems unique if you remove the context of—"

"Oh, bloody Nora, do not start listing nineteenth century European conflicts to me again, Steven."

"Well, Peg, it's hard not to when you're trying your hardest to ignore a key piece to the entire issue. And while we’re at it, to suggest that World War I propaganda was the key pathway to reliance on cultural stereotypes that had already been spreading around Europe for centuries before and that the Nazis only—"

There aren't all that many people standing around on the first floor of the College of Arts and Sciences building on a Thursday afternoon, but those who happen to have scheduled themselves a late class or are meeting friends to start their weekends early stop and watch the bickering pair striding down the hallway.

"I had Professor Rogers last semester,” says one student to the rest, watching the two turn the corner. “Life-changing.”

“There is no way he’s better than Professor Carter,” says one of the others. “If I hadn’t already been too far along with all this double major crap, her class would have made me switch to history.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, do you think they’re…you know…doing it?” one of the crasser members of the group as they all turn to leave the building. “The way they were arguing, there were definite sparks there.”

“No way,” someone snorts. “They argue like that all the time. Everyone knows that they hate each other. Half the history majors are Jets and Sharks over them — Team Carter versus Team Rogers.”

“I know who I’d join,” says Steve’s former student immediately, and Peggy’s agrees, glaring, but most of the rest seem to be of the opinion that they couldn’t be paid to care this much about school and since they’re the ones who are, in fact, paying, there are more interesting things to talk about.

The newly minted members of Teams Rogers and Carter glance at each other, for once in agreement — the others simply have to experience it themselves to understand.

The campus pub, a cozily dark, wood-paneled little establishment that leans perhaps a little too much into academic cliché, usually hosts events a few times a week: comedy, music, trivia. The new manager, however, wants to mix it up (and perhaps take advantage of that stereotypical appearance). Few of her colleagues think that anyone will turn up for a debate between two history department professors, but they’re bolstered anyway by the usual uptick in stressed-student patronage as the semester gets closer to its end, so at least it doesn’t seem like it will hurt.

Even a half hour before it’s supposed to start, the place is nearly at capacity. As the professors take their places behind the lecterns borrowed for the occasion, people are having to be turned away at the door for fear of violating the fire code. By the time the manager declares a tie, Professor Rogers is pink-cheeked, Professor Carter is starting each of her statements with a tight, “If my esteemed colleague would recall…” and as a couple passes outside they turn to each other and wonder what sporting event could be going on inside to be inspiring so much passion.

You’d think that things would quiet down a bit around finals time but that isn’t the case. With the new courses for next year announced and selection already under way, there is a second round of haggling and complaints about unfairness and bribery attempts to get into the desired sections. Leaving for the afternoon even as she sees the students still lining up and hears them trying to make their cases directly to the professors themselves — “I understand that you’d like to continue with my spring course, Nicole, but I think that you might in fact find the perspective enlightening” — Angie feels like she still hasn’t entirely caught her breath from the first round months ago.

She demands double the gift cards, or she’s transfering to the sociology department, where the faculty hasn’t done anything noteworthy in about a hundred years and no one has ever decided to become even the least bit fanatical about any of them.

Finals are over, and snow blankets the empty campus. Vacation has taken over the minds of the students, even as they wait for their grades to come in.

“I’ll trade you for the dumplings,” Peggy says from where she is leaning against the arm of the sofa while Steve faces her from the opposite end. Their feet tangle in the middle.

“Sure, do you have the pad thai there?” They lean forward to exchange cartons, kissing briefly before they relax back to their respective sides.

Peggy swallows and says, “Since we’ve both managed to finish with our grading, I thought we might go skating tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me fall again,” Steve complains, smiling.

She makes a little humming sound, that impish curl at the edge of her mouth — bare for once, since it’s only the two of them relaxing at home. “Perhaps, but you did know about that bit of sadism when you married me.”

“Well, as long as you help me back up.”

“You know that I’ll always kiss it better, my darling.”

A couple of students, still in town due to canceled flights, spot them walking hand in hand to the rink the next afternoon, skates over their shoulders. Theories range from some kind of hostage situation to a social experiment, enforced faculty bonding to mutual amnesia. After all, what else could be believed?

#steggyweek23 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #I feel like someone prompted this/mentioned Steggy as part of this sort of tumblr post prompt so hopefully it finds you!

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salternateunreality2 · 2 months

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Very very AU, please ignore the fact it makes no sense.

So Zack was selected for SOLDIER programme and he's freshly 3rd class. Congrats, Zack! He's meeting our lovely professor Hojo for his, uh... "vitamin" shots, but he's not fully enhanced yet. He's doing fine, tho.

Nah, just kidding, he's not doing fine. He promised to help his mom, he has to study for an exam (yes they still have to finish school) and he started going on missions more frequently.

Of course Zack planned everything perfectly, he'll just have to be in 2 places at once. When the day came, however, he realised it wasn't a good plan. Who could have thought.

So he does what any reasonable person would do and asks his friend to pretend to be him. It's a low priority mission to kill some monsters in the Slums and he can lend his helmet that covers the entire face. A foolproof plan.

How does it go?

Kunsel: Oh hi, "Zack", how are you today? Glad to see you FINALLY took my advice about appropriate head gear.

"Zack": *grunt*

Kunsel: You're looking kinda...half your normal size, are you eating enough, "Zack"?

"Zack": *huff*

Kunsel: And my, so talkative today, it's almost like you're not yourself. Do you need to go lie down, "Zack"?

"Zack": *growl*

Kunsel: *Sigh* Just. Stick behind me kid, this'll be good experience and you're not...WHAT THE SHIT?!

"Zack": *zips around Kunsel at a speed usually not seen in unenhanced humans* *stabbing, growling, slashing, feral whirlwind* *gets bitten* *bites back*

Kunsel: ...

"Zack": *kills the last monster with his bare hands* Hrmph.

Kunsel: ...

"Zack": *picks up his sword that he forgot in his rabid rampage, wipes it off on his pants*

Kunsel: Ok, that action tracks. Can you at least wipe it off on the leg that *didn't* get bitten?

"Zack": *looks down* *grunts*

Kunsel: FFS.

Thankfully, Kunsel had healing materia on him (he was on assignment with Zack, of course he had healing materia on him), but he insisted on taking pictures of "Zack" covered in blood and the wound up close before casting.

Kunsel kept the young man hostage in Kunsel and Zack's shared dorm room so he could shower and change without getting in trouble for impersonating a SOLDIER. Unfortunately for both Zacks, it wound up taking just the right amount of time for Zack to return and Angeal to get out of a meeting.

Cue two very spiky, very sullen young men sitting on a crappy Shinra dorm room bed, one with his leg elevated against his will, being lectured by Angeal AND Kunsel.

Zack: but d- ANGEALLLLLL, he did great! He beat all the monsters and didn't cause problems! Heck, he should be getting his injections, not scolded.

Kunsel: *holding up his PHS* Zack. Look at this. Look this mangled piece of flesh. Can you even tell what body part it's supposed to be?!

Cloud: it's fine now though *tries to put leg down*

Angeal: NO. Cadet Strife, you elevate that limb IMMEDIATELY.

Cloud: *huff* *complies*

#ff7 #cloud strife #zack fair #angeal hewley #kunsel #kunsel ff7

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landwriter · 1 year

Note

70s SF AU is KILLING ME, absolutely bodied by unexpected Shelley & Keats, tell us more? 😶👉👈

Hob drove across the country from Indiana and arrived a week before the first class. Dream has been in San Francisco since he graduated high school. Hob thought Berkeley was a neighbourhood in San Francisco. Dream is taking this class because of a drunken wager with Lucienne and Matthew, his colleagues at City Lights. Hob works at a deli. He is bright-eyed and burning with hunger for this new, beautiful life. Dream is mostly tired all the time.

Punk, your knowledge base is genuinely bigger than the entire country of Canada, so you probably already know all of this, but I too was bodied by Shelley & Keats when I looked them up.

I was thinking about what Dream would think of Byron, after Hob made a joke saying he sounded like a tragic Byronic hero. I'd thought Yeats for Dream, originally, but then I remembered Keats/Shelley/Byron all associated and decided to look 'em up and anyways that's how I discovered Shelley:

became an absolutely unhinged champion of Keats, who died thinking he had done "nothing to make my friends proud of my memory" but had "lov'd the principle of beauty in all things"

invited Keats, ill, to come stay with him and his wife (he wrote privately in a letter "I am aware indeed that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me and this is an additional motive & will be an added pleasure.")

outright blamed Keats' premature death on critics (Byron mocked him for this view)

after his death wrote a 495-line pastoral elegy called Adonais which he considered "the least imperfect" of all his works

As in Adonis, the god of beauty and attraction

wherein Shelley "summons the subject matter of Keats' poetry to weep for him." - but even Spring cannot restore him to life

and includes the famous lines:

Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep He hath awakened from the dream of life 'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. — We decay Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

Shelley grieves, deeply and fiercely.

The house where Keats died is a museum now, called the Keats-Shelley House, despite the fact it hosts letters from a number of other writers as well, and the fact that Shelley was not with him when he died - did not even know of his passing, worried for his health in letters after he was already gone. But that's what the Keats–Shelley Memorial Association named it. One wonders if they were the original K/S shippers.

Keats, as a poet, was extraordinarily sensual in his writing - as in of the senses, not necessarily horny. He was a prolific letter-writer, and his letters are funny, unselfconscious, self-aware. It seemed to fit Hob well, as much as any poet would, and then it was an OBVIOUS CHOICE to have Dream pick Shelley. He doesn't pick the Romantic he thinks is the best: he picks the one who loved his contemporary the best.

Hob, of course, is blissfully ignorant to the depth of their relationship, and in a scene I have not written, casually mentions Keats and Shelley to his professor, or perhaps a friend, and receives all this information and then thinks very hard about if Dream intended to say all that too. Or if he just named Hob as Keats and himself as Shelley because they were friends. He thinks about it in a way that probably is closer to haunting.

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #seventies san francisco au #poets #an essay #the keats and shelley assignment could go either way honestly #but for the purposes of this scene it went this way

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seven7thheaven · 4 months

Text

welcome to seven(7)th heaven

howdy howdy yall! my name is rexxie, i'm twenty five years old, i'm an afab nonbinary ace lesbian and this is my blog for my final fantasy seven content.

i have played through the original game several times and have played the first part of the remake.

my ask box is open if you want to hear my thoughts on certain events, want me to write an imagine, headcanon or have a request. please do not send me a chat message unless we know each other.

i write x reader content as well as x original ocs (of my own - i won't butcher your oc's characterization).

byf. masterlist. ocs.

CHARACTERS WILL I WRITE FOR . . .

cloud strife

tifa lockhart

barret wallace

aerith gainsborough

vincent valentine

yuffie kisaragi (i will not write sexual content for her)

jessie rasberry

biggs

wedge

reno

rude

tseng

elena

sephiroth

reeve tuesti

CHARACTERS I WON'T WRITE FOR . . .

rufus shinra (as of right now; this may change in the future)

professor hojo

president shinra

marlene

dyne

CONTENT I WILL WRITE . . .

fluff

angst

smut

light bdsm (bondage, spanking, domination)

breeding/impregnation

female and gender neutral reader

named and unnamed female or gender neutral reader

light au/crossover headcanons (ie. avalanche's starter pokemon)

menstrual sex

pegging

CONTENT I WILL NOT WRITE . . .

abuse in any fashion or context

scat/watersports/vomit

dubcon/sa

paedophilia (adult/minor grooming)

kidnapping

vore

breathplay

ddlg/sexualized age regression

self harm/suicidal gestures

male/male content

sexual furry/scaly

yandere

please be aware that this blog may contain spoilers for the original final fantasy seven game as well as part one of the remake.

#final fantasy 7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy 7 rebirth

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howlingday · 1 year

Note

Strife AU has Jaune ever used Materia before like maybe he has an armlet under his hoodie with Materia in it. it's just he has never used it in combat he only has Healing Materia and Magnify Materia for healing himself and others but it doesn't heal aura so he hasn't used it in combat class. until someone gets hurt in a dust class and Jaune start casting cure on everyone as an idea

Jaune yawned as Professor Port droned on with Dust Theory and Practice. He normally would be all eyes and ears on the subject, as little of an affect on his fighting style as it had compared to the other students, but he was up late, training with his mom and Yang again. Six hours of sleep was a schedule he was used to, but his body ached, almost begging him to return to his dorm to sleep off his pain.

Glancing over to the other side of the classroom, his sparring partner fared no better. Yang was out. Down for the count. He watched as Ruby try to shake her awake, only getting her snoring as an answer. It wasn't a loud snore, which is why Professor Port allowed it. If Yang wasn't disrupting class or distracting other students, then she would just have to study harder later.

"Of course, as you know," Professor Port twisted the edge of his mustache, "Dust isn't the only natural resource we use for combat purposes. Can anyone tell me what the other mineral resource I am referring to is."

That would be Materia. It's a rarer mineral, due to excessive mining performed years ago, threatening the planet with total annihilation. There should be zoning laws in place now, forbidding mining companies from digging too close to possible Life Stream chambers, as a result of this.

"Well done, Mr. Arc!" The bulky professor bellowed. "You've clearly been reading ahead on this material, haven't you?"

...Oh, he said that out loud, didn't he? Well, all eyes were on him now, so he might as well follow up with how he knows. The only person not watching him was Yang.

"Actually, Professor, my parents use Materia in their weapons." Jaune explained. "All of my family does, actually. They were involved in the crisis years ago, so they're huge advocates for the environment."

"Mhm, I see!" The professor nodded. "So which is better?"

"Materia, obviously."

Weiss snaps pencil and shrieks. "EX-CUSE ME?!" That woke him up. "Do you honestly think these magic rocks from 'the Life stream,' as you call it, are any better than the science behind the scientific research and development of Dust?!"

"Well... yeah." Jaune answered, causing Weiss to grow more and more red in the face with her anger.

"Simmer down, Miss Schnee. If you'd please." Professor Port waved his hands down in an attempt to calm her.

Yang yawned as she lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. She looked around, finding Weiss glaring daggers at Jaune as she huffed. She turned to her sister. "What did I miss?"

#rwby #rwby au #jaune strife au #jaune arc #yang xiao long #peter port #weiss schnee

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aimeelouart · 1 year

Note

i think it would be funny if catgirl sephiroth got to reality hop due to how much a cat's behavior can vary on a moment to moment basis, the chaotic evil to go with CtS cloud's chaotic neutral and Cal Zack's chaotic good. will catgirl seph hurt people or will they just bully people, will they torment cloud with violence or by demanding wet food, will they spend the day chasing chocobos, summoning meteor, or will they spend the day napping in the sun. it's anyone's guess

Whatever catgirl Sephiroth decides to do, he will be a menace to society while he does it. Calamity Zack would probably show up with a squirt bottle full of Aerith's water.

[Referencing this]

#ask #professor strife au

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queenofcandynsoda · 11 days

Text

Claudia Strife (AU)

(I asked @jknerd if she can drew Claudia with Sami clothes and she delivered~)

Claudia Strife

Other Names: Claudia Myrsky (maiden name), Mrs. Strife, Cloud’s Mom, The Reindeer Killer, The Caretaker of the Nibelheim Orphanage, Raggedy Bitch (by Junio Shinra)

Age: 34

Affiliation: Nibelheim Orphanage

Occupation: Caretaker, Woodworker, Pharmacognosist

Residence: Strife Household (currently), Gamme in the Nibel Area (semi-nomadic, formerly)

Family: Cloud Strife (son), The Nibelheim Orphans (adoptive children), Styrmir Strife (husband, presumingly deceased)

Relationships: Vincent Valentine (friend), Tifa Lockhart (neighbor, eventual friend), Brian Lockhart (neighbor, initially disliked, eventually somewhat friend), Dr. John Lenox (neighbor, employer, eventual friend), Mrs. Esme Shaw (neighbor, eventual friend), Reeve Tuesti (sponsor, eventual friend), Professor Hojo (enemy), President Shinra (enemy), Junio Shinra (enemy)

Abilities: Magic Materia Knowledge (Cura, Fira, Blizzaga, Thundara, and Aeroga), Summon Materia Knowledge, Spear Combat, Trap Creation, Knife Combat, Cold Resistance, Skiing Mastery, Snowboarding Mastery, Fishing Mastery, Hunting Mastery, Culinary Mastery (Sami and Nibelheim cuisine), Baking Mastery, Butchering Mastery, Child Caretaking Mastery, Sewing Mastery, Housekeeping Aptitude, Woodworking Mastery, Herbalism, Medicine Creation, Alchemy

Likes: Her son, the Orphans, Reindeer stew, Tifa’s help, Woodworking, Sleighing, Making medical herbs, Skiing, Performing Alchemy, Vincent being sociable, Ms. Shaw’s protection, Reeve’s aid

Dislikes: Shinra, Hojo, Junio’s Insults, Brian’s Mistrust, Soldiers (initially), Using a gun, The Triplets’ pranks, Tainted medicine, Any potential danger to the orphans

Origins: Claudia Strife is Cloud Strife’s mother and the caretaker of the Orphans from the Nibelheim Orphanage. Before she had settled down in Nibelheim, Claudia was part of a Sami group that used to live in the Nibel Area. She would often hunt, sew clothes from reindeer pelt with her mother, ski and snowboard with her friends and cousins, woodwork with her uncle, and listen to folk songs. Soon after Shinra started to become more mainstream when they put their first reactor in Nibelheim, it became noticeable that the plants and flowers started to wither and die and monsters started to appear around the village. As the villagers saw the Shinra Company as a very benevolent organization that denied that their reactor was responsible, they blamed the Nibel Sami for their “enchantments”. Since then, Claudia’s family has been discriminated against as some villagers even attacked them.

When she was about fourteen years old, she met a young man, named Styrmir Strife, who was a chemist who experimented with alternative fuel sources and toxicology. The teenage boy empathized with her clan and offered them to live on his field. This led to a conflict between the two childhood friends that eventually caused its breakdown. Brian did not even attend their wedding nor saw the birth of Cloud. After Cloud was born, the Myrsky Clan had left to head northward, which would make their visits less frequent.

Styrmir taught her alchemy during their marriage in secret from Shinra, mainly for materia and herbs. The couple had since experimented in their basement. Claudia also became creative when it came to creating medicine. She would then sell them to Dr. Lenox for his office.

One day, when Cloud was about a year old, Styrmir went hiking up to Mt. Nibel to get more herbs. However, he did not come back later that day. Days went by, with search teams, and there was no sign of him. Styrmir was presumed dead weeks later, leaving Claudia as a widow and raising an infant Cloud alone. Brian did attend Styrmir’s funeral but this had led to an argument between him and Claudia. It had gotten so intense that it nearly resulted in physical violence before they got separated.

Claudia and Cloud were deemed outsiders due to their Sami heritage, furthermore with the Mt. Nibel incident with Tifa. The only ones who were not prejudiced against her were Ms. Shaw, who is a reclusive older woman, Dr. Lenox, Mrs. Lockhart, her daughter, Tifa, and a handful of villagers. Dr. Lenox had hired her to be his pharmacognosist.

After Cloud had left for Midgar when he was 14, Claudia had become lonely. She would often stay at home and make medicine for a few years until one day, the villagers found a disturbing discovery. A few of the villagers discovered that there were mako tanks filled with young children in the Shinra Manor’s basement. She was one of the first people to clean them up and put them in the temporary infirmary. She even got some reindeer pelts to keep some of them warm when blankets ran out. Unbeknownst to her, she started an emotional connection with them as she noticed some scars on their bodies.

In the village meeting, Mayor Zander asked for any potential solutions to this sudden discovery. Brian wanted to contact Shinra for an explanation and that they should take the children. However, Claudia was quick to counter that, stating that Shinra was the one who put those children there and their intentions would be bad. She also mentioned that Shinra abandoned the children for the gods’ know how long. She offered to care for the children. Mayor Zander reluctantly agreed with her. While gathering some materials from the manor, she accidentally awakened Vincent. Though she was afraid of him, he managed to calm her down. After his explanation, she told him about the orphans and Shinra’s connection to them. Vincent decided to help her and the orphans, knowing that Hojo was connected.

Once the children awakened and recovered from mako poisoning, Claudia gave the children their names and the old clothes donated from some of the villages. She soon discovered unusual traits they have, such as how some of them either look like siblings, have deformities, or have strange abilities. Despite this, Claudia has grown attached to them. When the Turks tried to collect them back, the caretaker quickly called in Seldon, who is the village’s photographer and record keeper, to take photos of the orphans and send them to the newspapers as blackmail against Shinra. From this, Claudia can protect the orphans as the company does not want to hurt its public image.

Fortunately, this had worked. Though a bit too well.

This had drawn out Junio Shinra, the second wife of President Shinra, making her Rufus’ stepmother, and the PR executive. All she cares about is her public image and seeing herself as being above others, especially when it comes to Rufus. As soon as she saw the orphans, she was disgusted by them and angry that people sympathized with them. However, she used them as an opportunity for Shinra’s public image to avoid any discussion of war crimes. She decided to be a sponsor but with conditions. Reeve, knowing Junio, decided to be a co-sponsor, just to make sure that Claudia and the orphans were safe.

That is just the beginning for Claudia as the caretaker.

#final fantasy vii #claudia strife #final fantasy vii au #crisis core #crisis core au #cherub's cove

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driftward · 1 year

Text

Title: Theoretical Debate Night Characters: Professor Zoissette Vauban, Professor Y'shtola Rhul, Bartholomew Summary: Two professors alike in dignity, Debating with such ferocity, One wonders what causes such adversity, Bringing strife to our university? Notes: Year of the OTP University AU

Bartholomew gestured to his cohort.

They were students. Students at the Studium in Sharlayan, the greatest center of knowledge of all of Etheirys, and they were gathering to answer a very important question.

Exactly how much did Professor Vauban and Professor Y’shtola hate each other, and why.

Bartholomew creeped up to the edge of one of the lecture rooms. Behind him were two other students, and on the other side of the door, two more. He’d managed to convince them to come and listen to the heated argument that he was certain was about to erupt. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes, the two professors would seize a lecture hall and, well.

He leaned in to listen, occassionally peeking around the edge of the doorway, and his co-conspirators did likewise.

Professor Vauban was the taller of the two. A very tall Elezen, built like a pillar, with short ears, and brown hair. She was drawing aetheric diagrams on the board, along with some arcanist geometries, and other equations Bartholomew didn’t recognize. Standing nearby was Professor Y’shtola, a Miqo’te with silvery hair. They were both wearing long coats appropriate to the Stadium, but while Professor Vauban’s was the typical blue of a visiting professor, Professor Y’shtola’s was a custom black one of some sort.

He wasn’t sure why she’d been allowed the exception, and frankly, he was too afraid to ask.

“Alright, so we agree on the basics of the additive model of aetheric energy as described in the First,” Professor Vauban was saying.

“Naturally.”

“And of course we also agree on the conversion formulations, as well as the different states of activity, and how each element has a natural tendency as to where it wishes to stabilise in its energetic continuum.”

“Well documented natural data. On these matters there is no disagreement.”

“But on the origins of aether…”

“I believe I have made my position clear that the idea of an ‘origin’ for something as fundamental to existence as aether seems unlikely.”

“Okay, but what you are proposing is an unstable circle that gives rise to aetheric flows, with each state dependent on the priors, but no state serving as the originator.”

“That is correct.”

“But that would mean that basically everything is built on no foundation.”

“You still hold that your axiomatic model is the accurate one, then?”

“Well, yes. From a few base axioms and their fundamentals, I believe we can build upward and outward the entire ecosystem of aether as we understand it.”

“And what are those axioms based upon, I wonder? What more fundamental energies or concepts exist beneath them to hold them afloat?”

“Well, none that have been discovered or hypothesized yet. That - that is what makes them axiomatic.”

“I propose that we perhaps have the same model from different perspectives-“

“-do not start with lens theory with me-“

“-and that your axioms are not as fundamental as you may believe. What supports them? Themselves? You’ve simply made a flat loop, from which naught can be explained.”

“And I am proposing no such thing, you are simply trying to force my theory to conform to yours.”

“No force is required. I merely believe that an axiom alone cannot stand, and so propose that while my theory posits a horizontal self-sustaining circle of aetheric flow, yours does not speak to flow but rather to construction. But a loop forms nevertheless, with the supports of the axioms coming from what you consider the upper reaches of complexity of your theory, and then, returning to simplicity, grow outward again. A vertical hierarchical view.”

“Okay see but the problem with -that- view is that you are proposing that simplicity arises from complexity, which means that you are saying in an energetic enough system we might be able to achieve a static one?”

“Precisely.”

“Absurd.”

“What is absurd is your seeming unwillingness to entertain the concept of such a system.”

“No, what is absurd is the model that you have proposed. Your so-called horizontal loop at least boasts the strength of internal consistency, even if the reach of its predictive ability is … questionable-“

“I beg your pardon.”

“-while this vertical one you are attempting to shoehorn into my axiomatic theory predicts a reality in which a sufficiently powerful chaotic energy would give rise to order.”

Bartholomew snuck a glance while trying to appear he had not snuck a glance. And he saw that Professor Y’shtola’s ears were starting to swivel back. He quickly backed away again.

“Do not think yourself so readily able to escape your little side comment. Questionable predictive ability?”

“Your horizontal closed loop model has a known problem with overemphasizing divinational concepts while being unable to properly model events that occur by random permutation.”

Was it just him, or was Professor Vauban losing that lilt to her voice?

“And I suppose that you are so proud that your theory works so well within the common model, while ignoring the questions your very own experiences raise regarding its ability to handle closed timelines?”

“I do not need a closed loop to model those completely. That is well within the scope of the upper branches of the axiomatic theory.”

Her voice had seemingly gone cold for a moment. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, as she continued on.

“…though it does admittedly require the use of undecidability.”

“How unlike you, to concede to the undecidability theorem so quick. I thought it a coward’s way out, and a lack of willingness to explore a potential mystery.”

“Oh, are we on to personal attacks now?”

Ah, Professor Vauban’s voice had definitely gone cold now. He snuck a peak just in time to see her posture stiffen as she stood up rather straighter than she had been.

“The basis of undecidability is rooted in logic and arises from it, not despite it. There are simply some truths within a framework that cannot be reached from its roots.”

“Not by your axiomatic theory perhaps.”

“Oh well perhaps we can just nip on down to Alexander, wake it up for a moment and ask it a few questions. You experience one closed loop and decide to over model it to everything.”

“As if you are any better. After we are done with our field trip to Alexander, perhaps I might propose we go and visit Omega? I am certain that its experiences will shed much light on your insistence in a reality with such a poor basis as to need to be fixated on a few simple axioms that are easy to digest, rather than any harder truths that may be able to be found in more complex frameworks.”

“Are you saying that I am only arguing for the axiomatic framework because I can not handle a more complex system?”

“I am uncertain. Were you perhaps implying that I am enraptured so entirely by my personal experience that my theories are perhaps unmerited?”

Bartholomew looked and was entranced by what he saw. The two women had come to a standstill. Professor Y’shtola had grown increasingly, and obviously, agitated as the ‘discussion’ - and he was certain that it had left that definition some good minutes earlier - had become heated. Her ears were back, and her tail twitched dangerously, and now she had her arms crossed, and he was glad her expression was not pointed at him.

Opposite her stood Professor Vauban, who stood tall and regal, shoulders back, hands folded behind her. Where Professor Y’shtola was barely constrained fiery rage, Professor Vauban was an anger that ran as cold as ice. Her frown was small, but her expression was glacial, and he was also glad to not be facing her. In between the two, he imagined a plume of steam, where the glacier met the volcano.

In the distance, a bell began to ring, and Bartholomew almost jumped out of his skin, lost as he was in the scene before him. Almost immediately the two professors shifted. Professor Vauban looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slow. He saw her shoulders slump as she shook out her arms. Professor Y’shtola closed her eyes, and faced the floor, letting out a long, slow breath, and she began to smooth down the front of her long coat. Her tail went from dangerously swaying to a more relaxed swishing back and forth, and her ears pulled forward once more. By the time the twelfth and final bell had sounded and faded from earshot, the two professors seemed to have completely abandoned their previous ardor.

Professor Vauban smiled at Professor Y’shtola. Bartholomew frowned, as it seemed to be a genuine smile, with warmth, as she rested a hand on her hip, her posture fully relaxed. Professor Y’shtola leaned against the desk, and he thought he saw a small, subtle smile playing on her face.

“Well,” said Professor Y’shtola. “I believe the arrangements for our lunch today were in your hands.”

Bartholomew was suddenly sharply aware that he had stuck his head out rather too far, and so, for that matter, had his compatriots.

“Quick, before either of them -see- us” he hissed at the others, as he quickly made a hand gesture to all of them, and they scattered. He himself scampered to find a nearby support column to attempt to lean nonchalantly against. A place where he could watch to see what the two professors could possibly be up to. And just as important, a place where he could continue to sneak glances while he eavesdropped on their conversation.

Professor Vauban looked up at the ceiling as though lost for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin. “Arrangements? Is today special somehow?”

Professor Y’shtola chuckled, and crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Even on this day, your nature never changes.”

Professor Vauban’s face fair glowed. “Of course I have handled lunch. I made special arrangements with one of the ship captains who headed out to the new world. He claims to have found a new kind of fish that is -very- delicious. It has been delivered to the Last Stand along with some preparation instructions from Nyx. Failing that, well, the backup plan is fruit tarts and tea. A sweet lunch instead of a savory one, and there is always dinner tonight.”

“I suppose we are still beholden to Urianger’s plans?” asked Y’shtola.

“I am afraid so.”

“And neither of us have any idea what, exactly, he is up to.”

Professor Vauban sighed. “He insisted on the surprise, even though he knows you mislike such things.”

“Yes, well. I suppose we must indulge them every once in a while.”

Professor Vauban shrugged at that.

“Well then. We have no further business here for the time being. Shall we?”

“You go on ahead. I have to take care of something here, but I will catch up.”

Bartholomew took a sharp breath in, and he looked out and away from the lecture room. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Professor Y’shtola strode out of the room, her head high, but her posture relaxed. If she saw him or knew he or any of the other students had been out there, she gave no indication, and he sighed in relief as he watched her go.

One down, one to go.

Scant moments later Professor Vauban strode out into the hallway. He watched once more out of the corner of his eye as she crossed her arms, and watched as Professor Y’shtola left.

He caught a glimpse of her face, as he tried to surreptitiously sneak a glance, and he was surprised to see a different sort of smile on her face. Softer than he thought he’d seen before.

He shook his head and pointedly looked elsewhere.

And then he heard as her footsteps headed towards him.

He froze, but did not face her. Maybe she was going elsewhere, maybe she would walk right by him.

“Master Bartholomew, is it?”

Well, hells.

He turned to her, and was glad she was an Elezen and he was a Roegadyn; he had a good head of height on her. Despite that, he felt himself backing up as she approached him, both hands clasped behind her back, and a huge grin on her face. Almost manic. And her eyes, well. Her eyes.

It was the biggest grin he thought he had ever seen on anyone’s face, and if smiles had brightness to them, hers would’ve blinded him.

She continued to walk towards him, and he found himself backed up against the selfsame column he had been leaning against. Unable to go any further, he just stood there feeling helpless as she got entirely too close to comfort. And then, a bit closer. Despite the differences in height, her face was uncomfortably close to his.

“P-Professor Vauban?” He said, weakly.

“She knows all five of you were out here eavesdropping, you know,” said Professor Vauban in a voice that was as sweet as the smell of honey on a spring breeze.

And then she turned away from him suddenly, and was striding away from him, hands still clasped behind her back, humming a merry tune.

He collapsed to the ground, realizing he was very aware of his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around, but none of his friends could be seen.

“Oh gods,” he murmured, getting to his feet before practically fleeing down the hallway.

-*-

It was late, after normal hours, when Bartholomew at last worked up the courage to approach the classroom where he thought he could find one of the two professors.

He stuck his head in the classroom to see Y’shtola finishing cleaning up. He walked in, and stopped a few feet away, fidgeting nervously.

Professor Y’shtola looked at him cooly, and he swallowed, remembering to bow.

“Uh, Professor Y’shtola, my name is - I am Bartholomew. And I would like to apologize, not only for myself, but on behalf of my friends, for, uh, eavesdropping on you and Professor Vauban earlier.”

Professor Y’shtola’s ears folded back every so slightly, and he felt his nervousness increase.

“And wheresoever are these friends of yours, that they cannot speak up for themselves?”

“Uh, elsewhere, ma’am. It’s not their - that is to say, it’s my responsibility. It was my idea to, well, spy.”

Y’shtola crossed her arms and shifted her weight, examining him from head to toe. If Professor Vauban had made him feel small, Professor Y’shtola made him feel almost inconsequential.

“While it may not have been a formally scheduled session, it was meant to be open to the public, much as our later classes were. The doors were left open for a reason, after all. Nevertheless, I would know why you felt the need to try your hand at subterfuge.”

Bartholomew turned red. He had looked at the schedule, but had somehow either not looked for or missed that the use of the classroom was indeed for an open session. That almost made sense, though.

And probably nobody showed up because of their respective reputations for such heated debate. It was almost unseemly, but he would not be voicing that opinion just now.

“Well, uh, I didn’t know it was open. But I was curious - we all were, really - about why you and Professor Vauban hate each other so badly.”

“Hate one another? Whatsoever gave you such an outlandish idea?”

Bartholomew was confused. “Well, uhm, the way you two were going at each other was pretty intense. And it’s well known that you two argue a lot, and I’ve read some of the comments in your journal entries.”

“You should read our commentary in earlier works,” said Y’shtola with a small and knowing smile. “Her work on Nymian mathematics is exemplary. And I believe she had no few kind contributions to my own body of research.”

“Oh. Uhm. I’ve only really read your, ah, recent respective theories on aether. Or rather, uhm, your comments on each other’s respective theories on aether. And, uh, well you two sometimes really get into it. Hells, uhm, pardon me, sorry. But, right. Yeah. Just listening earlier, I thought at any moment one of you was going to, well, channel enough aether to wipe the other clean off the floor.”

Y’shtola laughed. “Well, this is a university, it is not? Some ideas must needs be challenged to be properly exercised, and our research in particular borders on the philosophical rather than the material. I think it only natural that the defense of such allows for some passion. After all, despite our words, neither of our theories are any closer to being able to be proven or disproven.”

“…if that’s the case, why do you two get so upset about it?”

“Upset? Hardly. However, it certainly invigorates the mind, does it not? Our debate is a harmless enough exercise, one which invites further argument. I most concede, that her model is better at predicting certain phenomena than mine, while mine has its own strengths and merits in the same. Through such debate, we can cover further weaknesses, and probe for areas of improvement.”

She looked at Bartholomew with a twinkle in her eye. “And also it inspires the curiosity of the student body, even if their inquiries do wind up misguided.”

Bartholomew turned red, and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while Y’shtola laughed at him.

“So you’re telling me then that you don’t hate one another. Instead you’re, what, friendly rivals or something?”

“Or something, indeed. If you must know, then I tell you true. Of all the mysteries I have uncovered and truths I have found, that one which is most precious to me is the truth of her heart,” said Professor Y’shtola. “Professor Vauban is my spouse.”

Bartholomew blinked at her incredulously. Of all the answers he might have gotten this day, that was the most unexpected.

While he was standing their flabbergasted, Professor Vauban walked up to the both of them, smiling broadly at Bartholomew with that slightly unnerving manic grin of hers.

“Oh, you two found one another,” she said brightly.

“Quite so. Bartholomew here has offered his apologies on behalf of himself and his cohort, regarding the earlier eavesdropping incident.”

“Oh, very good,” said Professor Vauban cheerfully.

“I, of course, have accepted on both of our behalfs. Did you know that their curiosity had naught to do with our theories, and everything to do with the nature of our relationship?”

Professor Vauban tapped a finger to her lips, and tilted her head at Bartholomew. “We are married.”

“Yes, I have just informed him as much,” said Y’shtola. “I am wondering if perhaps it is not common knowledge. Certainly, apparently not as common as knowledge of our occasional little debates.”

Zoissette looked chagrined. “Maybe it is because we are not here all that often?”

“Well, I have many and more mysteries to uncover, and you yet heed the siren call of adventuring.”

Zoissette shrugged helplessly. “I like being useful, and it lends itself to field work. Which I enjoy.”

“And we have seen what dangerous matters you get up to when performing lab work on your own instead.”

Zoissette groaned as the two began to head out. “Will I never hear the end of that? Besides, I still think it better than your periodic swims in forbidden streams.”

Y’shtola smirked.

The two continued to banter as they left, leaving Bartholomew behind. He just watched them go, staring, unable to believe that these were the same two personalities he had witnessed earlier.

Clearly, he had much and more to learn about Professors Vauban and Y’shtola.

And just maybe, as he considered their words, maybe from them as well.

#final fantasy xiv #year of the otp #university au #theoretical debate night #y'shtola rhul #zoissette vauban #y'shtola x zoissette #witchshield #biot writes #202204-13

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getvalentined · 2 years

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Time to start sharing Curaga requests from March!

College AU Strifentine, in which Vincent Valentine is a leading professor of archaeology (and history, and myth lit, he's extremely educated, blame his even-more-decorated father) while Cloud Strife is the top TA to Professor Not-Appearing-In-This-Request, Reeve Tuesti, over in Engineering.

The request included the line "Glasses? There should be glasses." So there are glasses.

They are both flirting and neither of them knows the other one is. Someone help them.

✨ Learn more about Curaga requests via the Directory.

#FF7 #FF7R #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 remake #dirge of cerberus #cloud strife #vincent valentine #strifentine #cloud x vincent #art tag #OTP #ship ship ship #curaga ptrn #final fantasy vii #FFVII

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kettouryuujin · 2 years

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What'll Ya Have, What'll Ya Have?

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokerus AU] Professor Laventon grunted, shooting towards the “ceiling” as a rouge Gible lanced through the air underneath him. Why had he let Akari and Cyllene talk him into accompanying the group on this trip to the Icelands?

…Ah, yes. They wanted someone unrelated to the Pearl Clan, in case Sabi or Lord Braviary had an adverse reaction. And she was insistent that he “pick up some moves!”

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he dove down at the draconic ‘mon, pulling up with a slight flick of his wings to launch the attack early. The Aerial Ace rushed downwards, striking down the stunned Gible with its trademark unerring accuracy. At least he had been able to use melee moves without having to get close to the enemy - according to the foregin vulpine, this was due to something called “Long Reach.”

Apparently this was a similar capability to a Zoroark’s Illusions - not a move, but a special trait a Pokemon could have. Oh, how he would love to be studying this in the lab right now! ‘But alas,’ he thought as he sent another Aerial Ace at a Sneasel accosting his assistant, ‘I’ll have to settle for field studies for the time being.’

Akari was busy fending off her own Sneasel, but she’d taken notice of the Professor’s shots. “Hey, you’re doing pretty good Prof.! You sure you only want to come this once?”

“Akari. I’m a researcher, not a combatant. As adept as I may appear, I’m certain that I will slip up sooner than later and cause us much strife. That, and I’d rather not be fearing for my life when I could be learning more about these ‘Abilities’.”

A chuckling, “pika”-laden laugh filled the room as he finished speaking. “Yeah, that’s the Professor for you. He’ll go into the field to learn things, but something like this is far beyond his comfort zone.” Ah, Rei had struck down the last foe in this room. Quite good!

“But…oh, fine. Let’s just focus on getting to Sabi for now.” the Water-type sighed, leading the group into the next room (which, thankfully, held stairs - one more floor was past, never for him to fly through again. At least, in this sort of situation).

—-

Akari had mentioned items occasionally being out in the open in Dungeons, and true to her word they had found some trinkets and Berries here and there. And now, they had found a wide array of items, laid out on a carpet.

But the most interesting thing was in the middle of the sea of fabric. The good professor blinked, looking up and up at the one in question. “Oh! I was wondering if any customers would come by. Welcome!” The human - human - bowed, smiling, blonde hair swaying over one eye. “My name is Volo, and I am a proud merchant of the Gingko Guild. How may I help you?” Volo? He’d heard the name before, the Gingko Guild had stopped by Jubilife several times and Volo was one of their best merchants to work with.

But the sight before Laventon’s avian eyes was impossible! Before anyone else could cut in, he spoke up - he had to know. “Well, I’d be most curious as to how you’re still human…”

A joyful laugh from the merchant. “I think I just got lucky, honestly… see?” One sleeve was rolled up, revealing a rather…pale-looking patch of skin. “For some reason or another, my changes are taking quite some time! This is the most that’s shown up after all these months…” A smile as he rolled his sleeve back down. “But I digress. Would you like to buy anything?” The slight upward inflection at the end of his sentence was a bizarre addition, enough to distract the Dartrix from the lack of real answer, at least until the Gingko Guild member turned to look at Rei - who was busy walking off with what seemed like an Orb of some kind.

“Huh wha? I…I was just going to show this to Akari, since she might know what it is…” The Pikachu defended himself, even as the orb crossed the edge of the fabric.

*KRA-KOOM!!!* “...ka…pi…” A puff of smoke escaped his muzzle as everyone’s eyes cleared, before the poor thing fell over with a loud *THUD!* “REI!” Dartrix and Dewott rushed over towards the charred Electric-type, quickly picking him up and checking his vitals.

“Ah, my security system…doesn’t really tell the difference between theft and trying to show someone something, my apologies.” Wait, when did Volo get over here? And he had the orb? “Ironically, this Orb works particularly well in this situation…” The human knelt down, tapping the azure sphere to the ‘chu’s forehead. The orb started to flow over Rei, shifting from azure to a white glow as it encased him. Eventually, though, it faded, revealing a much less injured rodent - who slowly groaned, rousing from slumber.

“Ugh… what the Distortion happened?” The other 2 Pokemon blinked, turning to look at the merchant.

“I had to use the Reviver Orb you had grasped to resuscitate you, seeing as you had tripped my security system.” The Dartrix saw Akari shiver out the corner of his eye - was this another thing she was familiar with? “It is a very rare item, and I don’t have many more, but… I suppose I can ask for a favor instead of payment.” Well, better to do a favor than have to pay for something that was likely quite expensive. Akari agreed, as she asked what sort of favor he had in mind.

“Oh, nothing major. See, there are these plate-like objects scattered around… like this, see?” The Gingko Guild member leaned down, sketching a rough shape on the dirt floor. “They’ve shown up in many a myth and legend, so I had been gathering several of them to look at when I far some free time. Unfortunately, the appearance of these Dungeons seems to have turned my bag into a bit of a sieve.” A laugh. “I’ve patched the holes, don’t worry, but I also lost what I’d had on me. If you would be so kind as to gather what Plates you can find and bring them to me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Sure, but…you’ll stand out like a sore thumb back at Jubilife…”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. When you need to find me, I’m sure I’ll be around.” A soft smile as the three Pokemon shared confused looks. “Now…what would you like to buy?”

—

Volo smiled and waved, watching as his best customers in ages left. Ah, it was always nice to make a good sale, especially for a worthy cause like theirs.

He did feel a bit guilty about dragging them into his search for the Plates, but he hadn’t necessarily lied about what had happened or why he needed them. So it should all work out, right? Right.

More importantly, there was the matter of the young one they were looking for. She was in rather harsh straits. He probably should give her a bit of help…

His visible eye glowed slightly, an abnormal red tint lighting up the room. “...It’s a shame this will make things more difficult for them. But I can only do so much.” A soft smile graced his lips as the glow faded, cries echoing from above. "Here's hoping you can succeed despite this added obstacle, heroes..."

#pokerus au #horror-lite au #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #pmd #pokemon #Welcome to the Kecleon Shop~#Wait no that's the wrong shopkeep #Also hi Volo #Yes he's changing slowly #And still wants Plates #Wait what was that he did at the end???

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