Fanfic: Final Fantasy VII - Posture
I appear to have approached my Internet limit for the month, so my connection has slowed to an excruciating crawl. No screencap adventures until the month rolls over, it seems. Alas.
In the meantime, here is a fic I wrote for the Final Fantasy OTP War thread. I'm also trying to do a Locke/Celes one...but it's not going very well.
Title: Posture
By: neutraltwin
Rating: G
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing/Characters: Tifa Lockheart, Barret Wallace
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, property of Square-Enix, etc etc.
Looking at them standing side by side, gazing out at the endless plains sweeping below the Highwind’s window, it occurred to her just how different the two men were. She could tell just from the way they stood; Cloud stood straight, a SOLDIER’s training evident in the posture and the way that his hand lingered near his sheath even in the safest moments, a gesture that made him look hunted, even scared, at all times. The posture and the gesture were intimidation tactics, she knew that much now; the message “get close to me and I’ll use this” was practically blaring from every part of him. It was a front, a way to hold off the world, and after what had happened in the Lifestream, this was clearer to her than ever.
Barret, on the other hand, stood tall and proud, chin lifted defiantly as he glared down at the passing world. If he had had his other hand, Tifa realised with a small laugh, he probably would have flipped the world off, just to spite it. There was nothing fake about the way he stood, ready for confrontation; his confidence was real, even if it did come out at the worst of times.
The way he did a complete emotional turnaround when Marlene was around just made it more interesting; seeing this monolith of a man, machine gun literally implanted into his arm, playing with a tiny girl was almost comic, not to mention very sweet. Tifa quietly shifted her weight onto her other foot, folding her arms; it was an interesting comparison, now that she looked at it.
The movement caught both their eyes, and they turned their heads almost in unison; Cloud in quiet bewilderment, Barret in glaring interest. Tifa chuckled under her breath and gave them a warm smile; who knew how much of the landscape they were actually seeing as it passed. Cloud stared at her a moment longer, impassive, before returning his eyes back to the window. Barret held her gaze a moment longer, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before he did the same, scowling at the landscape slightly less fervently then before.
Tifa’s smile turned honest. She turned around and craned over the wheel, asking Cid what time it was. After getting the requisite “How the f&%k am I supposed t’ know?” followed by a “...10:15.” she thanked him and turned again. This time, something was different.
This time, only Barret was looking.
Barret’s head hastily turned back to the window, glare turning bright and intense. Tifa giggled again, hand masking her mouth; being the only girl on the journey who wasn’t being violently sick would do that, she supposed. Emboldened, she strolled - almost sashayed, surprising even herself - over to Barret and Cloud and stood next to them.
The two men turned; Cloud carefully, fingers lingering, Barret almost too hastily. The trio stood silently, waiting for Tifa to speak.
“It’s getting late.” Tifa said. “I’m going to head to bed.”
Cloud nodded, giving a noise of assent. Permission given, Tifa. Off you go. Tifa nodded back and began to walk off, headed towards the private quarters. As she reached the middle of the floor, she glanced back over her shoulder at the two men; Cloud had folded his arms, back to her, his expression no-doubt inscrutable. Barret, on the other hand, was still staring after her. She gave him a warm smile - just for him, although who knew where Vincent was staring from his hole in the wall over there - and turned.
“Goodnight, Barret.” she said.
Barret paused, then nodded, giving a tough-man mercenary grunt.
“G’night, Tifa.” he said.
Tifa smiled at him again and left. The two men were very different; she could tell that from their posture.
But even the toughest of men could have a heart.
She just hoped that heart was hers.
-
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to destroy my not-working birthday present of a PS2 with a hammer. I swear, I am never buying pre-owned hardware of any kind ever again.
~ Aaron
In the meantime, here is a fic I wrote for the Final Fantasy OTP War thread. I'm also trying to do a Locke/Celes one...but it's not going very well.
Title: Posture
By: neutraltwin
Rating: G
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing/Characters: Tifa Lockheart, Barret Wallace
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, property of Square-Enix, etc etc.
Looking at them standing side by side, gazing out at the endless plains sweeping below the Highwind’s window, it occurred to her just how different the two men were. She could tell just from the way they stood; Cloud stood straight, a SOLDIER’s training evident in the posture and the way that his hand lingered near his sheath even in the safest moments, a gesture that made him look hunted, even scared, at all times. The posture and the gesture were intimidation tactics, she knew that much now; the message “get close to me and I’ll use this” was practically blaring from every part of him. It was a front, a way to hold off the world, and after what had happened in the Lifestream, this was clearer to her than ever.
Barret, on the other hand, stood tall and proud, chin lifted defiantly as he glared down at the passing world. If he had had his other hand, Tifa realised with a small laugh, he probably would have flipped the world off, just to spite it. There was nothing fake about the way he stood, ready for confrontation; his confidence was real, even if it did come out at the worst of times.
The way he did a complete emotional turnaround when Marlene was around just made it more interesting; seeing this monolith of a man, machine gun literally implanted into his arm, playing with a tiny girl was almost comic, not to mention very sweet. Tifa quietly shifted her weight onto her other foot, folding her arms; it was an interesting comparison, now that she looked at it.
The movement caught both their eyes, and they turned their heads almost in unison; Cloud in quiet bewilderment, Barret in glaring interest. Tifa chuckled under her breath and gave them a warm smile; who knew how much of the landscape they were actually seeing as it passed. Cloud stared at her a moment longer, impassive, before returning his eyes back to the window. Barret held her gaze a moment longer, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, before he did the same, scowling at the landscape slightly less fervently then before.
Tifa’s smile turned honest. She turned around and craned over the wheel, asking Cid what time it was. After getting the requisite “How the f&%k am I supposed t’ know?” followed by a “...10:15.” she thanked him and turned again. This time, something was different.
This time, only Barret was looking.
Barret’s head hastily turned back to the window, glare turning bright and intense. Tifa giggled again, hand masking her mouth; being the only girl on the journey who wasn’t being violently sick would do that, she supposed. Emboldened, she strolled - almost sashayed, surprising even herself - over to Barret and Cloud and stood next to them.
The two men turned; Cloud carefully, fingers lingering, Barret almost too hastily. The trio stood silently, waiting for Tifa to speak.
“It’s getting late.” Tifa said. “I’m going to head to bed.”
Cloud nodded, giving a noise of assent. Permission given, Tifa. Off you go. Tifa nodded back and began to walk off, headed towards the private quarters. As she reached the middle of the floor, she glanced back over her shoulder at the two men; Cloud had folded his arms, back to her, his expression no-doubt inscrutable. Barret, on the other hand, was still staring after her. She gave him a warm smile - just for him, although who knew where Vincent was staring from his hole in the wall over there - and turned.
“Goodnight, Barret.” she said.
Barret paused, then nodded, giving a tough-man mercenary grunt.
“G’night, Tifa.” he said.
Tifa smiled at him again and left. The two men were very different; she could tell that from their posture.
But even the toughest of men could have a heart.
She just hoped that heart was hers.
-
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to destroy my not-working birthday present of a PS2 with a hammer. I swear, I am never buying pre-owned hardware of any kind ever again.
~ Aaron