#reno ff7

Turks rope jumping, Rufus helped.

Elena, Reno, Rude wanna play, Tseng and Rufus indulge them. # very good boss

Some band au design doodles because my brain won’t shut up about them rn,,,

Genesis: Views unprompted trauma dumping as premium, free gossip. He thrives on the drama. He’ll literally sit back, cross his legs, and lean in completely captivated. He’s taking mental notes on family feuds and personal betrayals purely to file them away as future thematic inspiration for his work. He even reacts to every reveal like a plot twist in a soap opera (“No! They did NOT say that to you! The audacity! And then what happened!?”).

Sephiroth: Help him. The ultimate victim of polite salutations. He literally just said “Good morning” while waiting for the elevator, and now he’s trapped in a fifteen-minute detailed story about a middle manager’s messy divorce. He doesn’t leave because he doesn’t know how. He’s stuck, standing there, rigid as a statue, while his soul slowly evacuates his body. His eyes glaze over into a thousand-yard stare. By minute four, he’s fully dissociating—watching his own spirit float toward the ceiling, leaving behind a hollow shell that blinks on a five-second delay and emits an automated, deeply uncomfortable “...I see” as the the story progresses.

Cloud: He has zero social obligation holding him hostage. The second the person transitions from standard conversation into heavy personal lore, he simply turns on his heel and walks away mid-conversation, muttering “Not my problem” or “Sounds rough” as he disappears around the corner. He doesn’t even do it to be an asshole. It’s just that his internal risk-assessment meter drops straight to zero, so walking away is autopilot. Almost like he’s a videogame character being controlled by a player who’s decided that dialogue isn’t relevant to the story.

Zack: His ADHD brain was simply not built for heavy narrative exposition ok. He genuinely wants to be a good guy and pay attention, but the moment the stranger hits sentence two, his brain forcefully initiates a shut-down sequence. But because his entire existence is hardwired for unskippable RPG cutscenes, he goes on absolute autopilot and defaults to a perfectly timed cycle of dialogue like “Whoa! That’s crazy, man!”, “No way!”, and “Oh, huge bummer!” Meanwhile, inside his head: a mental projection playing a montage of a dog catching a frisbee, a loop of a catchy Chocobo theme song, and an intense debate over whether he could fit an entire bag of chicken nuggets in his mouth at once.

Angeal: The ultimate yapper who you cannot leave unsupervised in public for five minutes. He listens, maintains earnest eye contact and emphatic nodding. He treats the trauma dumping like it’s a co-op and offers genuine life advice before launching into a two-hour detailed recount of his own upbringing, the economic struggles of Banora, and his personal moral dilemmas. By the end of it, Angeal and this total stranger are tearfully embracing and trading family recipes.

Reno: He loves having an in on juicy details about people’s personal lives. So he takes the trauma as an invitation to give completely unhinged, unsolicited life coaching. The moment you open up about a messy breakup or a family dispute, you instantly regret it, because Reno will light up a cigarette and map out a wildly illegal solution. His personal opinions are highly specific and usually involve arson or extortion. “Look, your sister’s a snake, plain and simple. What you gotta do is drop two stun-grenades through the roof during a dinner party. Trust me, I do this for a living.”

Rude: The stranger opens up, pouring their heart out for four straight minutes. Rude stands there arms crossed over his suit, tailored jacket unwrinkled, dark sunglasses reflecting the city skyline, not moving a single god-damn muscle. The person thinks, “Wow, what a deep, attentive listener.” But as they pause for a response, they get nothing. By slightly lifting his glasses, they find Rude is fully, peacefully asleep standing upright behind those dark lenses like a bird on a perch.