Masu Trout (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
masu_trout) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fan_flashworks2015-03-09 01:43 am
masu_trout) wrote in fan_flashworks2015-03-09 01:43 am
Entry tags:
Final Fantasy VII: Fanfic: The Best is Yet to Come
Title: The Best is Yet to Come
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Rating: G
Length: 900 words
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: This is a drabble series - nine drabbles, one for each member of the core party - focused on the theme of 'showing your true stripes'.
Summary: Before Meteor. Before Nibelheim. Before any of them had ever heard of AVALANCHE. The world's heroes, before they were.
(A drabble collection for the protagonists of FFVII.)
1.
Under the plate, sometimes even an Ancient wasn't enough.
The Church's flowers, when Aerith came to check on them, were dying. Brown stripes marred the green stems and dotted the colorful petals. Aerith didn't know what it was– the mako, the unnatural light, the polluted air, her lack of ability– but, no matter what she did, the plants in her care would sometimes just.. wither away. These, like all the ones she'd lost before, would soon be nothing more than dried-up stalks.
Aerith sighed as she settled into the dirt. The sooner she pulled these, the sooner she could replant.
2.
Not many newspapers came to far-off Nibelheim, but Cloud saved every single one that did.
It was important, after all. Each newspaper might have news– or better, a picture–of General Sephiroth. He clipped each story he found, reading it over and over again before sliding it into the box he kept beneath his bed. The pictures, more precious still, went into storage straight away–if one of the local boys got hold of it, he might never get it back.
Banker, shopkeeper, doctor... the other kids could keep their stupid dreams. Cloud was going to be a SOLDIER.
3.
“Myrna,” Barret grumbled, “I look ridiculous.”
Myrna frowned at him. “It's supposed to be warm, not fashionable. You and Dyne keep heading into the desert at night, you're gonna freeze your fool asses off.”
“Better freezing than gettin' laughed to death.” Barret adjusted the scarf. It was made from fabric scraps in stripes of every color imaginable–mostly pink.
“Sure. That's easy for you to say when it's hot out.” She frowned. “You really don't like it?”
Barret looked at her and melted. “Naw, I'm just teasing, I promise. It's great.”
Some things were worth more than a man's pride.
4.
Cid woke at dawn, when the first rays of sunlight reflected off Shinra No. 26.
Each morning was a new challenge; some part to be ordered or section to be welded or useless layabout to be scolded again. The No. 26 was still unfinished, just scaffolding wrapped around a metal skeleton. It wasn't a rocket yet.
But it would be.
Every day it grew a bit taller, filled out a bit more. There was an excitement building in this makeshift town. They all felt it.
The future was here, and Cid Highwind would be the first to see it arrive.
5.
Sometimes Nanaki felt he would spend forever waiting for his life to begin.
The fire burned bright in Cosmo Canyon. The Gi Nattak had long since perished. Peace reigned.
Nanaki was, of course, glad for that.
But... the children he had grown up with had children of their own now. The elders he'd once listened to had long since rejoined the Planet. And he was still the same.
His kind were protectors, guardians of the Planet. Why had he alone been spared, if not to protect those living here?
He could accept any purpose, if only he could find one.
6.
Tifa was beyond sick of piano lessons.
The piano'd been her mother's once. When she died, her father had moved it into Tifa's room. It sat untouched six days of every week, 'til old Mr. Jones trudged up the hill to teach her–once again–to play Chopsticks or Mary had a Little Chocobo.
She wanted to be like her mother and to make her father proud. But she never wanted to touch those off-white keys again.
Master Zangan said she had great martial arts potential. Tifa didn't care about potential; she just wanted something that was hers to learn.
7.
Scarlet was better at using guns than developing them. Reeve supposed that was what came from hiring a weapons dealer as the head of R&D.
Why they'd hired her (or Palmer or Heidegger, for that matter), he neither knew nor cared to find out. ShinRa politics were vicious. He had no particular desire to catch the eyes of the Turks.
He'd joined ShinRa for the promise of development, of change; he'd wanted to re-engineer the world. Instead, he spent his days locked in meetings with people he couldn't stand for a paycheck he didn't want.
God, he needed a hobby.
8.
When Yuffie was empress, and when she'd beaten ShinRa so bad they were begging her for mercy, she'd own all the materia she wanted.
She could see it now: she'd lounge on her throne, plucking grapes off a fire-studded platter, restores dangling from her wrists and a gleaming Leviathan around her neck. Like the goddesses in the paintings.
President Shinra would bow to her, stammering with fear and awe. He'd offer her money, jewels, land, anything she desired, if only she would spare him.
Yuffie thrust an imaginary sword into her downed foe. “ShinRa dogs! Empress Yuffie shows no mercy!”
9.
Vincent had always been good at disappearing. The Turks loved him for it; he could slip through security simply by looking so unimportant that nobody bothered to question him.
His skill served him well here, locked within Nibelheim Manor.
The monsters that tore through his thoughts wanted nothing more than to fight. Another man might have given them one, and in doing so been destroyed.
Vincent knew better. He retreated within himself and let the creatures claim his body, his impulses. Let them fight each other. When they were exhausted, he'd return to claim what was his.
He could wait.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Rating: G
Length: 900 words
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: This is a drabble series - nine drabbles, one for each member of the core party - focused on the theme of 'showing your true stripes'.
Summary: Before Meteor. Before Nibelheim. Before any of them had ever heard of AVALANCHE. The world's heroes, before they were.
(A drabble collection for the protagonists of FFVII.)
1.
Under the plate, sometimes even an Ancient wasn't enough.
The Church's flowers, when Aerith came to check on them, were dying. Brown stripes marred the green stems and dotted the colorful petals. Aerith didn't know what it was– the mako, the unnatural light, the polluted air, her lack of ability– but, no matter what she did, the plants in her care would sometimes just.. wither away. These, like all the ones she'd lost before, would soon be nothing more than dried-up stalks.
Aerith sighed as she settled into the dirt. The sooner she pulled these, the sooner she could replant.
2.
Not many newspapers came to far-off Nibelheim, but Cloud saved every single one that did.
It was important, after all. Each newspaper might have news– or better, a picture–of General Sephiroth. He clipped each story he found, reading it over and over again before sliding it into the box he kept beneath his bed. The pictures, more precious still, went into storage straight away–if one of the local boys got hold of it, he might never get it back.
Banker, shopkeeper, doctor... the other kids could keep their stupid dreams. Cloud was going to be a SOLDIER.
3.
“Myrna,” Barret grumbled, “I look ridiculous.”
Myrna frowned at him. “It's supposed to be warm, not fashionable. You and Dyne keep heading into the desert at night, you're gonna freeze your fool asses off.”
“Better freezing than gettin' laughed to death.” Barret adjusted the scarf. It was made from fabric scraps in stripes of every color imaginable–mostly pink.
“Sure. That's easy for you to say when it's hot out.” She frowned. “You really don't like it?”
Barret looked at her and melted. “Naw, I'm just teasing, I promise. It's great.”
Some things were worth more than a man's pride.
4.
Cid woke at dawn, when the first rays of sunlight reflected off Shinra No. 26.
Each morning was a new challenge; some part to be ordered or section to be welded or useless layabout to be scolded again. The No. 26 was still unfinished, just scaffolding wrapped around a metal skeleton. It wasn't a rocket yet.
But it would be.
Every day it grew a bit taller, filled out a bit more. There was an excitement building in this makeshift town. They all felt it.
The future was here, and Cid Highwind would be the first to see it arrive.
5.
Sometimes Nanaki felt he would spend forever waiting for his life to begin.
The fire burned bright in Cosmo Canyon. The Gi Nattak had long since perished. Peace reigned.
Nanaki was, of course, glad for that.
But... the children he had grown up with had children of their own now. The elders he'd once listened to had long since rejoined the Planet. And he was still the same.
His kind were protectors, guardians of the Planet. Why had he alone been spared, if not to protect those living here?
He could accept any purpose, if only he could find one.
6.
Tifa was beyond sick of piano lessons.
The piano'd been her mother's once. When she died, her father had moved it into Tifa's room. It sat untouched six days of every week, 'til old Mr. Jones trudged up the hill to teach her–once again–to play Chopsticks or Mary had a Little Chocobo.
She wanted to be like her mother and to make her father proud. But she never wanted to touch those off-white keys again.
Master Zangan said she had great martial arts potential. Tifa didn't care about potential; she just wanted something that was hers to learn.
7.
Scarlet was better at using guns than developing them. Reeve supposed that was what came from hiring a weapons dealer as the head of R&D.
Why they'd hired her (or Palmer or Heidegger, for that matter), he neither knew nor cared to find out. ShinRa politics were vicious. He had no particular desire to catch the eyes of the Turks.
He'd joined ShinRa for the promise of development, of change; he'd wanted to re-engineer the world. Instead, he spent his days locked in meetings with people he couldn't stand for a paycheck he didn't want.
God, he needed a hobby.
8.
When Yuffie was empress, and when she'd beaten ShinRa so bad they were begging her for mercy, she'd own all the materia she wanted.
She could see it now: she'd lounge on her throne, plucking grapes off a fire-studded platter, restores dangling from her wrists and a gleaming Leviathan around her neck. Like the goddesses in the paintings.
President Shinra would bow to her, stammering with fear and awe. He'd offer her money, jewels, land, anything she desired, if only she would spare him.
Yuffie thrust an imaginary sword into her downed foe. “ShinRa dogs! Empress Yuffie shows no mercy!”
9.
Vincent had always been good at disappearing. The Turks loved him for it; he could slip through security simply by looking so unimportant that nobody bothered to question him.
His skill served him well here, locked within Nibelheim Manor.
The monsters that tore through his thoughts wanted nothing more than to fight. Another man might have given them one, and in doing so been destroyed.
Vincent knew better. He retreated within himself and let the creatures claim his body, his impulses. Let them fight each other. When they were exhausted, he'd return to claim what was his.
He could wait.