ffexchange_mod: (Default)
ffexchange_mod ([personal profile] ffexchange_mod) wrote in [community profile] ff_exchange2012-02-14 01:08 pm


Final Fantasy Kissing Battle 2012

  • To leave a prompt: leave one prompt per comment, with FANDOM: CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP in the subject line and your prompt in the body.

  • To leave a fill: reply to the comment in question. Please use the subject line of your comment to label your work: TITLE (if relevant), FANDOM, CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP, RATING (ANY KINKS, WARNINGS, FLAGS).

  • There should be kissing! All kinds of kisses are welcome: gen, shippy, smutty, chaste, familial, friendly, angry, happy! We’re pretty open to anything you want to call kissing. We are fans of all of it.

  • Fanart, fanfiction, drabbles, doodles, live action movies -- whatever you want to supply, we’d like to have it.

  • Be kind to others regarding character or ship choices and prompts. This should be fun for everyone!

  • Prompt early, prompt often, and leave as many as you want.

  • Prompts can be filled multiple times!

  • To leave a blitzkrieg kiss: If you have something but no one has prompted it yet, blitzkiss away! Just reply to the entry itself, and make sure you use the subject line to label your work.

  • Be sure to check the later comment pages (once comments start filling up) -- there could be some great kissing action happening back there!

  • Spread the word! Tell your friends!


We will be running the Kissing Battle on Dreamwidth only. There are two main reasons for this: 1) Dreamwidth’s comment limit is huge, allowing for longer kissing masterpieces; and 2) Dreamwidth still supports subject lines for comments, which are vital to a meme like the Kiss Battle. However, the Battle is open to everyone. Feel free to participate with your Dreamwidth (account creation is invite-free right now~!), your Livejournal or other OpenID account (see here if you want to set up an OpenID), or anonymously.

If you want to be part of the DOINK! Chocobo Races, and turn the Kissing Battle into a final boss battle (Cactuars vs Tonberries! WHO WILL WIN), please see this post for more information.

Have fun! Get smoochin'!
crankyoldman: "Hermann, you don't have to salute, man." [Pacific Rim] (Default)

FFIV: Rosa/Rydia/Edge

[personal profile] crankyoldman 2012-02-14 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hey, so, Edge has a pool at his castle."
seventhe: (Rosa/Rydia: got your back)

Relaxation (Rosa/Rydia/Edge (Rosa/Cecil, Cecil/Kain, Rydia/Edge), PG-13)

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-15 02:38 pm (UTC)(link)

It's been difficult - truly difficult - for Rosa ever since Kain came back. She'd never say the words aloud, because she can see the light rekindled in Cecil's eyes, and she can see the iron bars of tension in Kain's shoulders relaxing: but Cecil's been spending his days on the training fields, showing Baron that Kain's no traitor, helping his new General acclimate to Baron's Army, and Rosa has been stuck with that petty issue called ruling a nation.

She does not begrudge them. Cecil and Kain have a friendship closer and stronger than she can touch - and she and Cecil have always been open about their loves and other loves (for her, White Magery, and healing, and once an acolyte in the White Hall; for him, his King, and Baron, and now Kain) - so it isn't that she wishes things were otherwise. Rosa is really, truly, just tired. It's the plight of the healer, to take more upon herself than she can bear to give those she loves a little bit of light.

She'd never say the words aloud. But when Rydia comes to visit, she looks at Rosa and something flickers in her sparkling eyes, and Rosa is sure her dear friend can read them writ across her face like the lines of a spell.

Rydia falls in at her side, and for a while Rosa gets a little breathing room: it isn't that Rydia is helpful, because there has never really been anyone more absolutely terrible at courtly anything than Rydia (after the third diplomatic meeting ends in ashes and screams, Rosa asks her gently, "Rydia, please stop,"), but most of Baron is awed and a little terrified by the wild green-haired Summoner who wields their own Odin, and Rydia is really good at making angry faces and casting Thunder.

"You know," Rydia says one day, casually, the words falling into a little pocket of calm that Rosa has gathered around them by sheer will and little else, "Eblan has a beautiful spa, built into the caves. There's a pool, and hot springs, and they treat the mountain water with all kinds of scents and oils. It's different every day. Edge keeps it pristine - even now, when Eblan's struggling - because he says it's important to remember peace."

Rosa looks at her friend, and Rydia's eyes crinkle up with that wisdom no one so young should carry. "Think about it," Rydia says, and squeezes her arm, and heads off to terrify the next chancellor into obedience.

- - -

"I'm going to Eblan," Rosa tells Cecil, three weeks later.

Cecil looks up, and she falls in love with him all over again, because Cecil has always understood her: he might question her actions, but he does so honestly, because of who he is, not because she is some rose to be sheltered. She can tell by his eyes that he's reading her expression: she's set to go, and he won't argue with her. The smile on his face is warm and Rosa knows instantly that this is just one of those things all pairs must face.

"Have a good time," Cecil says. "I'm sorry, love."

"Don't be," Rosa says, and she kisses his forehead.

- - -

Eblan is different than Baron. Both are kingdoms of stone, but Baron's is engineered and wrought, the power of man stamped into its surface: Eblan is, instead, a more wild thing, hidden in the shadows of the mountains, conforming itself to the natural shape of the land around it, silent and subtle. Rydia draws her through the castle and Rosa can see what parts are newly rebuilt; they throb against the ancient stone walls like a bruise. Rydia leads her to a very grand guest room, where they deposit her things, and then slips through a hidden corridor in the hallway; Rosa is taken at how much Rydia has learned from Edge. They skitter down a thin stone passage, and Rosa resists the urge to giggle like a child.

"Come," Rydia says, taking her hand. Rosa is led through another passageway into a stone chamber, with tiny nooks in the walls: it's heated, steamy, and it smells like lilies and vanilla.

Rydia stands, wringing her hands a little, and Rosa thinks, she's nervous. "There isn't much else I can help you with," Rydia says, and then her hands are brushing against the collar of Rosa's dress, gently unfastening the buttons. Her fingers are a kiss on Rosa's skin, light and shy. "But I thought - I thought you might need this."

Rosa smiles, and bows her head to give her friend better access. "I would like to remember peace," she says softly. Rydia's fingers make quick nimble work of all of Rosa's queenly fastenings, and Rydia's own gown is a simple slip of a thing, and Rydia takes her hand again to lead her through one of the three doors.

It's a broad pool, shaped into the stone itself, shallow at the end closest to them and gradually deepening as it moves into the cavern. Steam curls off of the surface in soft tendrils, and Rosa shivers in the chill cave air without her clothes on. Rydia pulls her into the water and she follows. It's pleasantly warm, tepid and comforting like a cure spell, and Rosa smells spices and sandalwood.

"Am I allowed to come out now?" Edge's voice bounces off of the cave walls, and Rosa's startled for just a moment before the soothing warmth of the water strips it all away.

Rydia's face is the question, and so Rosa says aloud, "Come on in, Edge," because the invitation is theirs and the permission is hers to give.

There's a splash and then Edge slips out of the shadows behind a rock: he's just suddenly behind Rydia, in that way that he has, and his lips drop to press a quick kiss of greeting to her neck. Rydia's eyes flutter, and her smile is cat-like and warm.

"Lord Eblan," Rosa greets him, because she suddenly finds it amusing to give a formal greeting in the nude.

Edge's smirk is fabulous. "Lady Baron," he says, and comes around Rydia, and the kiss he bends to give her is not at all quick, although it makes a fabulous greeting.

"Thank you for having me," Rosa says, a little breathless - no wonder Edge is known with the ladies - and she does a little curtsey, which is even funnier with no clothing. The warmth of the water, the tingling soothing scent of the herbs, Edge's sly smile and Rydia's warm regard: the stress and the tension of the last few weeks are washing away. Rosa doesn't remember the last time she felt this light and playful.

"Thank the Lady Feymarch," Edge says with a wink, and Rydia's eyes flash with fond irritation.

"I told you, that isn't--" Rydia begins, but Rosa moves through the water and stops her friend's words with her fingertips. There's a bit of a moment and then Rosa moves her hand, replaces it with her lips. Rydia's mouth is soft and her breath is quick and she makes a tender little noise as Rosa kisses her more deeply.

She pulls away, eventually. They're all a little flushed.

"So," Rosa says, and she barely even recognizes her voice: it's been so strained from the past few weeks. "What other wonders does Eblan's famous spa hold?"

"Oh, my lady," and Edge is laughing now as he pulls Rydia closer. "We'll show you."
crankyoldman: "Hermann, you don't have to salute, man." [Pacific Rim] (yuna wake up)

Dissidia (or FFX-2/FFXIII): Lightning/Yuna

[personal profile] crankyoldman 2012-02-14 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Why do I get the feeling there's more to you, Yuna?" or meta about how Yuna is in her FFX dress instead of being a kickass gunner like in X-2.
crankyoldman: "Hermann, you don't have to salute, man." [Pacific Rim] (tellah)

FFIV/FFVI: Terra/Rydia

[personal profile] crankyoldman 2012-02-14 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Make this picture happen in a fic. OR DRAW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

FFIV: Edward/Cecil

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)

"the pen is mightier than the sword"

vrazdova: (Celes douche)

Re: FFIV: Edward/Cecil

[personal profile] vrazdova 2012-02-14 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)

Re: FFIV: Edward/Cecil

[personal profile] albijuli - 2012-02-20 23:08 (UTC) - Expand
owlmoose: (ff13 - vanille)

FFXIII: Sazh/Vanille or Sazh & Vanille

[personal profile] owlmoose 2012-02-14 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
I didn't mean for this to happen
novel_machinist: (Sir)

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-16 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I don't want to hear your apologies, Vanille." He didn't. All this mess, this damn mess. "Just because you didn't mean for anything bad to happen doesn't mean that things didn't happen."

She balled her fists and looked at the ground. She had confessed, but that didn't mean that all had been forgiven. The group was treading lightly, on difficult ground and she didn't know if she wanted to be forgiven or outright hated. She just wanted the tension to break.

Sazh didn't seem to have it in him, however, to hate anyone. Or maybe she just reminded him of his boy. She could feel his hand on her shoulder, but Vanille didn't look up.

Softly, he pressed his lips to her temple and pet back a stray hair. "Let's... just keep on keeping on, okay?"

(no subject)

[personal profile] owlmoose - 2012-02-16 06:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] novel_machinist - 2012-02-18 21:36 (UTC) - Expand
owlmoose: (ff12 - ashe)

FFXII: Al-Cid/Ashe

[personal profile] owlmoose 2012-02-14 06:58 pm (UTC)(link)

Bonus Balthier accepted.
Edited 2012-02-14 19:00 (UTC)
seventhe: (Tifa: bad)

FFVII: Any Turks Ever

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)

An AU (or not -- it isn't that far of a stretch) in which the Turks become bounty hunters. Their newest target is worth a hefty payload, but they're having trouble bringing him/her in.

Surveillance - FF7: Rude/Elena, Reno; PG-13

[personal profile] astrangerenters 2012-02-15 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
"He'd be really stupid to come back to Midgar, Reno."

Reno's voice came blaring back in her earpiece, a shrill shrieking sound accompanying it. They really needed to get some newer equipment. Didn't the Turks deserve the best? "Well when you run an op then you can decide where we go on a stakeout. But since the chance of you running an op is less likely than Tseng popping out of the cake at Rufus Shinra's next birthday party, shut your mouth."

Elena sulked.

A stakeout could be fun, but most times it really wasn't. Some jerk had stolen top secret files from one of the Shinra labs and would allegedly be selling the data to the highest bidder in the next few days. Though it seemed like a piece of cake for the Turks, Hojo had bitched loud enough to get the company to open the investigation up to anyone. The bounty itself was more than Elena would make in the next ten years. The data was apparently so precious that the speed of its return was more important than the quality of those sent to retrieve it.

Not ones to be outdone by amateurs, the Turks were in on the action, though the obvious misstep had been putting Reno in charge. He had intel that Mr. File Thief was a regular patron of the Honey Bee Inn and would be meeting a potential buyer that evening. Though in Elena's experience, Reno's "intel" was usually something he overheard in the elevator or the men's room and then claimed was the result of his sleuthing skills.

Reno was parked across the street from the Honey Bee Inn, eyes on the front entrance while he waited inside the ice cream truck (also his idea as team leader). She and Rude were on point, loitering in the street in case Mr. File Thief came out. Of course, Rude, being Rude, had come in his Turks uniform and stood out like a sore thumb while Elena had at least tried to look neighborhood-appropriate in her red blouse and black miniskirt.

"He's probably in Costa del Sol by now," she grumbled, trying to ignore how stupid the ice cream truck looked across the street. Of all the vehicles to pick...

Rude merely stood stock still, the only evidence he was still alive being the occasional tilt of his head as he observed people coming and going.

"He's probably a member of the bathtub club in there," Reno grumbled back, "so just be patient. He'll come out of there sooner or later."

Minutes passed, and Elena was really regretting her dedication to blending in. Her Turks suit and sensible shoes would be much better than the pumps she'd worn. Maybe Rude had had the right idea after all. She sometimes wondered what went on inside that shiny, bald head of his. Reno was always talking, so it wasn't like Rude ever had much to say. He was good at his job though, and Elena respected him for it. She knew that he'd never think of running a stakeout from an ice cream truck at least.

"Okay," Reno finally said, "got a match. Green jacket, just came out."

"Green jacket." Rude had his finger to his earpiece and was already on the move. "In pursuit."

Elena hadn't even seen the guy, and Rude was already halfway down the street after him. "Ah, damn it," she complained under her breath, trying to hurry up after Rude while the ice cream truck roared to life across the street. The only benefit to the truck now would be if this really was the guy and they could shove him inside with the rocky road and chocolate vanilla swirl.

"Move your ass, Elena!" her earpiece screeched.

She nearly stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, leaving the blaring music and neon lights of the Honey Bee Inn behind as she followed Rude through the narrow, twisting streets of the Wall Market. Reno wasn't going to have much luck driving around, but that was his problem. She finally caught up, falling into step beside Rude. Well, a Turk and a girl in a miniskirt didn't make much sense separately in this neighborhood so she slunk her arm through his and held on as best she could.

If Rude disapproved of her tactics, he didn't say anything. But he did slow a bit, far more the gentleman than the red haired jerk in the ice cream truck. The guy in the green jacket was walking at a decent enough pace, and he had on a cap, so she couldn't tell if he matched the perp's description or not. Reno had had binoculars in the truck, so they had to trust his judgment for now.

It was odd tracking someone out of her uniform. She was almost a bounty hunter herself, though she quickly chastised herself for the thought. She was a member of the Turks, after all. Bounty hunters were a gil a dozen.

The mark turned the corner, and Rude slowed again, wrapping his arm around her. She began to feel a little odd, surprised by the ease of the transition, almost as though Rude did this all the time. They turned the corner, too, and the man in the green jacket had stopped to light a cigarette. He was looking right back at them.

"Been made," was all Rude whispered before pulling her close and bending down. Her first instinct, her Turks instinct, was to slug him, but then he was kissing her. Rude, bald Rude who got by on fifteen to twenty words a day tops, was kissing her, hand on her ass like some sleazeball and yet...

"What do you mean you've been made?! Rude?"

"Rude, report!"

"I'm stuck behind a...hey, beat it, kid. Isn't it past your bedtime? I'm closed!"

"Rude, seriously. Is green jacket our perp? Rude!"

"Get out of the god damn...oh son of a bitch, flipping ice cream truck, how do I turn the music off?"


She finally yanked the damn thing out of her ear and wrapped her arms around her fellow Turk's neck, deciding to go with the flow. If they wanted to convince the guy they were tailing that they were just a random lovey dovey couple, it was her duty to be believable, right? She wasn't doing it because Rude was surprisingly the best kisser ever...

Then there were footsteps, and Elena imagined that green jacket was moving on. Rude let her go, their lips parting with a pop, and he adjusted his sunglasses. She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell if he was amused or happy or turned on or anything.

Instead he put his finger to the earpiece. "Green jacket was not our perp. Repeat. Not our perp."

And with that he turned around just as the noisy ice cream truck came hurtling down the narrow street, obnoxious music cranked all the way up.

"Wait a second!" she called after Rude, shouting to be heard over the music. "If you knew from the second he made us that he wasn't the guy..."

Reno honked the horn, oblivious to her distress. "Shut up, would ya? Let's go!"

...then why did you kiss me?, was what she wanted to ask him, but he was already in the truck.

"Come on already! We need to get back to the Honey Bee!" Reno screeched, and she hurried to enter their ridiculously conspicuous vehicle. Elena knew she was blushing from head to toe, but she'd have to wonder what Rude had been thinking later.

They still had bounty hunting to do.
owlmoose: (ffx2 - paine/nooj official art)

FFX-2: Paine/Nooj

[personal profile] owlmoose 2012-02-14 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
No one expected this
Edited 2012-02-14 19:00 (UTC)
seventhe: (Ashe: Good to be queen)

FFXII: Larsa, Balthier, Fran (any combo!)

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)

daring rescues, boring political speeches, an unusual bounty.
seventhe: (Rydia/Rosa: girlcrush)

FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)

the desired constellation
flecksofpoppy: (FFVI - Terra)

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] flecksofpoppy 2012-02-15 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
Aw shit.

Now I have to find WORDS that are woefully ABSENT from my brain.

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] deadcellredux - 2012-02-15 04:55 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] flecksofpoppy - 2012-02-17 06:10 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] seventhe - 2012-02-17 19:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] ashestosnow - 2012-06-28 22:47 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FFVI: Terra/Celes

[personal profile] flecksofpoppy - 2012-06-28 23:20 (UTC) - Expand
thene: and the space is filled with stars (centuries)

FFXIII: Fang/Vanille

[personal profile] thene 2012-02-14 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's only the first time in a few hundred years."
volta_arovet: (Default)

FFT: Mustadio/Agrias

[personal profile] volta_arovet 2012-02-14 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"barking up the wrong tree"
ser_pounce_alot: (Default)

FFVIII/Chrono Trigger: Ellone/Schala

[personal profile] ser_pounce_alot 2012-02-14 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Time compression vs. the time continuum

"ribbons of fate" (or F.A.T.E. if you know chrono cross)
seventhe: (Ondore: he lies)

Straight Lines (Schala/Ellone, PG)

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-15 02:16 am (UTC)(link)

The dreams are bad. They're really, really bad. To Ellone, Time Compression has always been like folding a piece of fabric, or paper - folding it in on itself so that certain areas touch, pressing against each other like linen, hearing the whispers woven into each thread and fiber. But now: Ellone dreams of surfaces, broad bright canvases, and her consciousness is touching in a million pinpoints at once, and she can't tell which way is up and which is down. It's as if someone has taken her folded sheet and sliced it, strung it up in four dimensions, stretched impossibly thin. Realities string themselves out in front of her like beads, sparkling so brightly she can't see the threads at all.

It isn't surprising when she creates herself a friend: at first it isn't even a voice, merely the kind brush of a hand at the small of her back when she's lost, or a guiding murmur in her ear when she makes a wrong turn. Then it's fingers, small and surprisingly delicate - the White SeeD never had delicate hands - holding her hand as she learns to move through this broad space. Then it's a laugh, tender and graceful.

Then, a face, and Ellone realizes that it isn't a figment of her imagination at all.

"The dreamer," says the other girl, when Ellone tries to speak; her smile is knowing and small. "I am the one who dreams this place."

"The whole thing?" Ellone asks. All of time?

The girl nods. Her hair shimmers in the strange light, as if it has been dipped in silver. "All of time," she says, her words an echo of Ellone's mind.

So many questions crowd into her space and she feels her feet start to quiver, in the slip-thin bit of reality they've chosen today, but all Ellone can think to say is: "That must be lonely."

"Well," says the girl, "yes. Time, but not space." And her eyes have centuries in them, turning like galaxies on a string. "But... I've never met anyone who could walk it with me before."

They're still holding hands so it's too easy for Ellone to pull the girl to her, to wrap her arms around her - this dreamer, the one holding all of time together. Ellone presses her lips to the crown on the girl's head, instinctively, and she can't tell if it's her own Matron's-instinct, or if it's a blessing, or if it's something else entirely.

"Will you show me," she says, haltingly. "Will you show me where you came from?"

It's the right thing to say. "Come," says the girl, and she pulls Ellone's hand and they are falling, swept and graceful, weaving through the threads themselves. "My name is Schala, and let me show you Zeal."

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ser_pounce_alot: (Kingdom Hearts // Gangsta)

FFVII/FFVIII: Squall/Cloud

[personal profile] ser_pounce_alot 2012-02-14 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"We're both bringers of our own destinies, right?"

(cloud/leon kingdom hearts a+ okay, too)
obabscribbler: (Default)

Kingdom Hearts - Leon/Cloud

[personal profile] obabscribbler 2012-02-16 02:17 am (UTC)(link)
[With thanks to Samuel Beckett]

"We're both bringers of our own destinies, right?"

“Something like that.”

Cloud shifted backwards, poising all the weight on his left foot as a pivot. The kick-and-slash combo was great against Heartless, but not against someone who had seen it done a hundred times before. Leon ducked under the kick. Rather than let blade meet blade, he rammed his shoulder against Cloud’s exposed stomach, hoping to knock him off balance. It probably would have worked, too, if he had been fighting something without even one wing. Cloud lifted off, alighting on a piece of collapsed wall like a crow waiting on the edge of a battlefield to pick at the bodies left behind.

“I prefer to think we build our own destinies.” Leon shook sweat from his eyes. His hair was damp and clung to his forehead. They had been at this for hours already, but neither asked to stop. They wouldn’t until their muscles trembled, the light was fading and they could barely stand up. That just wasn’t who they were.

“I guess.” Cloud leaped like a fox on prey under snow, feinted and spun around several times like a wickedly sharp helicopter propeller.

“If you say ‘bring’,” Leon grunted, dropping and rolling away, “it implies you’re willing to accept whatever destiny you’re handed and cart it around with you.”

“But if you say ‘build’,” Cloud pointed out, stomping down in an attempt to get Leon’s rapidly moving head under his boot, “you have to accept that if it doesn’t work out, it’s your fault for not building it right, or strong enough.”

“So?” Leon brought his gunblade up. The ‘shing’ of metal on metal rang around the courtyard. This part of Radiant Garden was too badly damaged to be liveable, which made it perfect for sparring. It was totally private and hugged sound within it like a room at the nuthouse. None of the girls could worry about them hurting each other when they went all out to vent some tension in the only way they knew how. “So you build it stronger next time.”

“However many times it takes?” Cloud tried to use his superior strength. His wing beat the air, attempting to help. He had the upper position; Leon was on one knee, which should have put him at a disadvantage, but that was never any indication of how things would turn out.

Case in point: Leon twisted his gunblade, wrapped the flat under the bigger, heavier Buster Sword and swiped it aside. With his free hand he grabbed Cloud’s leading wrist, squeezed in just the right spot to deaden his grip and yanked so hard that his entire body pirouetted onto the floor before his sword hit the ground. Before Cloud could right himself, the edge of the gunblade was at his throat.

“However many times it takes and however long it takes,” Leon panted. “If you try and fail? Try again. Fail again.” He leaned in, claiming Cloud’s mouth for a brief moment. “Fail better.” He pulled away, getting to his feet but not offering a hand to help Cloud up. Instead he balanced in a combat-ready stance, gunblade in a perfect grip that had taken years, many defeats and many scars to get right. “Ready to fail again?”

Cloud gave a fierce little smile and bounded back to his feet.
ser_pounce_alot: (Tegoshi // Seems Legit)

FFIV:TA: Palom/Porom

[personal profile] ser_pounce_alot 2012-02-14 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
kidnapped by a race of dark elves, mutated by mt. ordeals and the light's absence, as revenge
novel_machinist: (Default)

Secret: There is no plot

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-15 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
No one expected the dark elves to attack when they did. No one even knew what the race wanted when they showed up to dampen the the lights from the village. Palom was terrified he clung to Porom. "What do they want?"

"I don't know." She held his hand tightly. Neither of them said anything else.

Their captors were a beautiful and savage lot. Lithe bodies danced in the wild light of bonfires. Their cries were moans of homage to Mt Ordeals and the loss of themselves. Porom was entranced with the way that they moved, the rapture and uncontrolled beauty drew here like a moth to flame.

Their captors led them to a makeshift prison tent. Porom knew that there would only be one thing to do to save her and her brother from certain elfey doom. "Follow my lead."

She reached up and grabbed a dark elf by the collar of her shirt. With a hard yank, Porom yanked the young, nubile body of the elven woman to her form. She pressed her lips against the elf's. Her other hand drifted down to the elven's hip. Instead of the soft dip behind pants, her hand met Palom's.

He was already possessively holding the elf from behind. "You said follow your lead..."

From between them, the dark elf squirmed, but that only encouraged the twins to continue. First her shirt slipped over her head. Palom's hands played against the soft teardrops of the elven woman's breasts. One teasingly pinched at her nipple, it was followed by Porom's warm tongue.

Pants soon followed the shirt, the dark elf's back arched as Porom's tongue dipped lower. Strong legs tensed and the elf strained, fighting off her body's urge to release. She bucked and purred before she gave in to delighted trembles.

The three of them were curled together. While Palom pulled the elf's belt off and stealthily bound her, Porom pulled out her keys. Together the twins snuck back off into the night.
seventhe: (Cecil and Rosa: Dark / Light)

FFVIII/Gundam Wing: Relena/Ellone

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"if you could change just one moment... Would you?"
ser_pounce_alot: (Default)

Re: FFVIII/Gundam Wing: Relena/Ellone

[personal profile] ser_pounce_alot 2012-02-14 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
novel_machinist: (Default)

FF7 Reno / FF6 Edgar /FF12 Baltheir / FF9 Jecht

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:36 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not sorry for this at all.
Edited 2012-02-14 19:38 (UTC)

Re: FF7 Reno / FF6 Edgar /FF12 Baltheir / FF9 Jecht

[personal profile] justira 2012-03-09 04:44 am (UTC)(link)


I HAVE SERIOUS ADULT BUSINESS TO DO, not this absurdly hot bullshit



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novel_machinist: (Default)

FF9 Kuja / FF6 Kefka

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:36 pm (UTC)(link)

Re: FF9 Kuja / FF6 Kefka

[personal profile] faenendren 2012-08-06 05:14 am (UTC)(link)
Oh God. Mental images. Scary, scary mental images.

Not unpleasantly scary, though...

Also, I created this account just so I could say this.
Edited 2012-08-06 05:18 (UTC)
novel_machinist: (Default)

FF7 Reno / FF8 Rinoa

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Canon's broken
seventhe: (Quistis: smile)

Cigarettes (Reno/Rinoa, PG-13)

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-15 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
It's the cigarettes that get her in trouble, of course. Not for having them -- Zone's friend's brother had picked them up, free of charge, and she certainly looks of age when she swaggers and slinks -- but her lighter's in the pocket of the coat she was just too cool to wear. Rinoa feels distinctly out of place holding the box in her hand like an idiot who forgot matches. This bar isn't the kind of bar that gives them out at the counter - which is why she wants to smoke here in the first place - and for a second she's frozen in her own stupidity. She knows any second someone will take a second look and realize that she's Caraway's goody-goody daughter.

But she sees him in her panicked glance around the bar -- hopefully not-too-panicked; she still has a persona to hold onto here: red-haired, willow-wisp thin but with a strength to it like wire, leaning into the corner like it's his lover. He's wearing some kind of expensive suit like it was born on him, and she sees the tell-tale trail of smoke curling up and over his ponytail. He looks dangerous, and it's exactly the kind of person Rinoa knows she shouldn't be talking to. So she sways her way over with more confidence than she feels.

"Got a light?"

He turns, sinuous like a snake, to look at her over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes. There are red tattoo-streaks on his cheeks, and his eyes are bright and sharp and clever. He puffs smoke into her face and grins.

"The evidence is right there," she says, although she tries to make it sound coy. "So help a girl out, would you?"

The smile turns a little predatory, and the man turns around in one smooth movement that makes her panic, a little: it's the smoothness of motion her father's guards all have, that smoothness that comes with familiarity and training and confidence. He plucks the cig from his mouth with long fingers and says, "Make it worth my while, diamond-eyes."

Rinoa Caraway would never do this. So Rinoa Heartilly leans in, up on her toes, and brushes her lips gently across the stranger's. It's meant to be just a touch, but he surges forward suddenly, and her mouth is claimed by dark smoke and heat and the hint of a snake's tongue.

She breathes in, sharp, and the man's chuckle reaches her. It's surprisingly light, and it sounds even more dangerous because of that. She wants to be embarrassed - in some corner of her mind she is, a little - but she simply cocks her head and holds out the cigarette confidently.

The man flips a lighter up out of his pocket and bends to her cigarette. When his eyes flick back up to hers, the smile is sly. "Let me know if I can buy you a drink," he says, and Rinoa breathes in with triumph and puffs smoke out above her head.

(no subject)

[personal profile] novel_machinist - 2012-02-15 02:38 (UTC) - Expand
ser_pounce_alot: (Animorphs // Capable of Sarcasm)

FFXII: Rogue Tomato/Party Cast of FFXII

[personal profile] ser_pounce_alot 2012-02-14 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Rogue Tomato needs passage to Bhujerba because shit, son, he's sick of the god damn Estersand
novel_machinist: (Default)

FF 4 Kain / FF 10-2 Paine

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
novel_machinist: (Default)

FF9 Beatrix/ Freya

[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Honor doesn't mean much anymore."
wallwalker: Venetian mask, dark purple with gold gilding. (Default)

Re: FF9 Beatrix/ Freya

[personal profile] wallwalker 2014-09-25 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
The Calm After, Freya/Beatrix, T
seventhe: (Rydia: reversed)

FFVIII/Gundam Wing: Quatre/Rinoa

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Not just rich kids after all
flecksofpoppy: (Gundam Wing - Trowa in clown outfit)

Re: FFVIII/Gundam Wing: Quatre/Rinoa

[personal profile] flecksofpoppy 2012-02-15 01:19 am (UTC)(link)

FFVIII/Gundam Wing Quistis/Trowa

[personal profile] astrangerenters 2012-02-14 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)

(or mom jeans)
seventhe: (Default)

Re: FFVIII/Gundam Wing Quistis/Trowa

[personal profile] seventhe 2012-02-14 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
novel_machinist: (Default)


[personal profile] novel_machinist 2012-02-14 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't care what how or who.

Zeromus/That Guy 2012

[personal profile] astrangerenters 2012-02-15 05:14 am (UTC)(link)
I don't know what this is, but clearly I need to sleep.


Zeromus liked the cut of his jib. Or rather the cut of his smart-looking teal vest. "Hey there," Zeromus said as he slither-crawled his way up to the man's high table near the bar. "What's the good word?"

The man in the teal vest was beyond intoxicated at this point, eyes swimming behind his glasses as he set down his fifteenth Coors Light bottle. "Heeeeeeeeeey," he said, wrapping his arm around Zeromus' shoulder-blade-wing-ish area. "Did you see where Quistis went? I lost Quistis."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the lady. Can I buy you a shot?" Zeromus figured it was a done deal with the way teal vest dude was swaying on his feet. Tonight was the night.

"A shot? I've done like, eight of those tonight," the guy said. "Hey, did you know I studied Tudor-era English history? I'm incredibly smart."

"Yeah I'm going to buy you that shot," Zeromus said, leaving a smeary trail of death and blood as he moved to the bar, asking for a shot of Patron. The barkeep said it would be $7.00, and Zeromus haggled him down to free with one fierce look. He grasped the shot glass between his deathly sharp claws and brought it back to his new friend.

"Ah, you're a nice...guy? You're a guy under there right? Like the Master Shake?"

Zeromus just did his approximation of smiling. "Under...where? What do you mean?"

The guy downed the shot and nearly toppled over. "You sure you haven't seen Quistis? She was so hot, man..."

Zeromus silenced the guy with a suckling semi-kiss, attaching his dangly bit to the guy's face in a show of affection. You know, like all the kids did. "I have completed the small talk and the buying of drinks rituals and now I have shown my obvious interest. Shall we proceed to my room for more?"

The guy's glasses were now hanging off of one earlobe precariously, most of his face covered in oozing blood from the force of Zeromus' appendage. "I...huh?"

Zeromus sighed. Even Cecil Harvey hadn't been this stubborn.

Re: Zeromus/That Guy 2012

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