2014 Final Fantasy Kiss Battle

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Final Fantasy Kissing Battle 2014

RULES

• All prompts will be organized by fandom, using Master Links. When leaving prompts, please put it under the right canon! If in a compilation canon, please include the important details!


• 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 comment for your fandom, and make sure you use the subject line to label your work.


• Be sure to check back often -- new kissing action could be showing up everywhere!


• Spread the word! Tell your friends!

FINAL FANTASY KISS BATTLE 2014
<center><a style="border:0;" href="http://ff-exchange.dreamwidth.org/47675.html"> <img src="http://img25.imageshack.us/img25/2347/kissbattlebanner.jpg" border="0" /><br><big>FINAL FANTASY KISS BATTLE 2014</big></a></center>

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.

Have fun! Get smoochin'!

FINAL FANTASY I
FINAL FANTASY II
FINAL FANTASY III
FINAL FANTASY IV COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY V
FINAL FANTASY VI
FINAL FANTASY VII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY VIII
FINAL FANTASY IX
FINAL FANTASY X AND X-2
FINAL FANTASY XI
FINAL FANTASY XII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY TACTICS COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY XIII COMPILATION
DISSIDIA: FINAL FANTASY COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY: CRYSTAL CHRONICLES COMPILATION
ASSORTED FINAL FANTASY
CROSSOVERS (WITHIN FF)
CROSSOVERS (FF/OTHER)
OTHER / ASSORTED

Comments

FINAL FANTASY XII COMPILATION

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FFXII and RW: Please specify which canon you are requesting for!

FFXII (OGC): Al-Cid/Balthier

[owlmoose]

Anything you can do I can do better

"Competition", FFXII (OGC): Al-Cid/Balthier, PG

[sathari]

They're well enough into their cups at Ashe's coronation--- Her Most Gracious And Serene Majesty The Queen Of Dalamasca having quite, quite thoroughly snubbed them both--- that tongues are loosened, and Balthier is never sure afterward who started the round of boasting about their prowess--- in all arenae.

He's the one who finishes it, though, and that's what counts--- leans forward in the middle of one of Al-Cid's sneering boasts about the three women who didn't want to walk the next morning after a night with him. "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is," he growls, and fists his hand in the other man's jacket, tugs him across the table.

The other man's mouth is sloppy, slack with surprise at first--- then he does his best to give as good as he gets.

He doesn't, in Balthier's opinion, kiss well enough to be a leading man--- but, as they break for breath, he thinks the other man just might kiss well enough to bed one.

The silence that has descended upon the room tells him they've acquired an audience. Al-Cid, shameless showman that he is, shoots his cuffs. "I think, my dear Balthier," he drawls, "that this contest is best continued without an audience?"

Balthier snorts. "What, afraid you won't live up to your boasts?"

"No," Al-Cid says coolly, "but I fear the two of us together might be enough to leave the ladies in the room regretting their own choice of partners for the evening, no?"

"So let them follow," Balthier growls, and grabs the other man's wrist to drag him from the room.

Ashe watches them go, and thinks that while either of them alone is insufferable, it's just barely possible that the two of them together might keep each other in check. Might.

And, of course, the alliances involved would be good for Dalmasca.

Re: "Competition", FFXII (OGC): Al-Cid/Balthier, PG

[owlmoose]

Oh, fantastic. I especially like Ashe's thoughts at the end. Thank you!!!

FFXII: Balthier [&/] Fran

[fireeye]

Your forest.

"Grownup Orphans", FFXII, Fran & Balthier (F/B if you squint), G

[sathari]

At the very edge of the Golmore Jungle, Fran stops and looks back.

The others go on; all save Balthier, who stops at her side. (He is only selfish and self-absorbed when it doesn't matter, she has found; when it counts, when she needs him, he is the best partner an exiled viera, who is thus viera no more, could wish.) "Missing your forest?" he asks lowly.

She tilts her head. "It is my forest no longer," and with the words, giving voice to the truth she had tried so hard to ignore, to forget, the tears slip over her lashes.

A gentle hand tugs at one of her ears--- they are sensitive, so sensitive, but Balthier's hands have always been deft enough, from the first--- and she bends to him. Wordlessly, he takes her face in his hands, kisses her forehead lightly. She leans her head against his, taking comfort from the touch, grateful that he does not try to use words to soothe what cannot be soothed.

He knows. He too is exiled by his own will, making of himself orphan and alien and else, and he knows that there are no words for it, for the empty aching place inside where home should be.

Except that it is not so aching, nor so empty, while he is there to fill it; and she knows she does as much for him.

When she stirs, finally, her need for solace slaked, he leans back, shakes himself slightly, and is every inch the sky pirate, the "leading man" that he likes to style himself. "Come on, bunny rabbit," he says, the half-mocking pet name for her that she only tolerates under specific circumstances--- such as when the annoyance is a welcome relief; such as now--- "we've an empire to topple."

He saunters off, and she follows him, thinking that she is more fortunate than he is.

The wood, after all, will still be here, though she return to it not; and it is hardly her lot to burn it down.

Re: "Grownup Orphans", FFXII, Fran & Balthier (F/B if you squint), G

[hamimi_fk]

*-* Beautiful!

Re: "Grownup Orphans", FFXII, Fran & Balthier (F/B if you squint), G

[fireeye]

BABIES! \;~;/

This is simply beautiful, thank you very much♥!

FFXII (OG): Vayne/Ashe

[sathari]

Perfectly arranged marriage.

"Imperfect Solutions", FFXII (OG): Vayne/Ashe, PG

[owlmoose]

Borderline dubcon. AUish, maybe -- I haven't played in long enough that I'm not sure if this slots quite right into canon.

---

"They say that Princess Ashelia died of grief." Vayne Solidor stepped out of the shadows of his stateroom in Dalmasca's palace and into the spotlight where the prisoner sat: the rebel leader Amalia, her jaw tight, her eyes burning defiance. He walked a circle around her, taking his time about it, observing her from every angle. Her blond hair, the planes of her cheekbones, muscles taut and ready to spring into action. "Took to her bed, turned her face to the wall, and stopped eating. That she withered away, despairing for her future and that of Dalmasca." He shook his head as he took another turn about the floor. "A pretty story, but not one I've ever believed. Too convenient. Too unlike a queen. Too well-tailored to Ondore's purposes. Don't you think so, Amalia?" He stopped, right in front of her, and stooped down to her height, to look straight into her face. She was the right age, to be certain. And her lieutenants had fought to the death to protect her. A simple rebel leader, or something more?

She lifted her chin to angle her eyes over his head, but she said nothing.

Vayne smiled without softening. "It must chafe at you, to live this lie. To pretend to be less than you are, to crawl through underground tunnels and sleep on the ground."

"I am no less than any other soldier who fights for Dalmasca's freedom!" She spat out the words, before deigning to meet his eyes at last, anger and contempt written across her face. "No less, and no more."

Vayne shifted his weight back on his heels and clucked his tongue. "Defiant to the last, my princess." Her knuckles whitened, gripping the arms of the chair; she would have lunged, Vayne knew, but for the three soldiers that stood behind him, holding a knife at the throat of Vossler Azelas. Her captain's life for her consent to this conversation -- that was the bargain, and they all knew it. She was unarmed; the Archadians would kill them both before Vayne suffered as much as a bruise. And yet, he could see her making the calculations. He could learn to admire such spirit.

"Do not," he said, holding up a hand, "bother to deny it. I know your family too well, and Ondore is too deeply in my pockets to hide the truth any longer. You are in a tight spot, princess. But I can offer you a way out."

"Were I locked in a burning building and you held the only key, I still would not take your aid," Ashe retorted.

Vayne gestured to his left, then his right. "But you are in a burning building, princess. Dalmasca is a tinderbox, waiting only for the right match to strike it. Would you really stand by and watch it burn?"

He stood up, stepped back to allow his words to sink in. Finally, she slumped back into her seat and looked away. She would hear him out.

"I am governor of Dalmasca, and will remain so for the foreseeable future. You must know that you cannot drive Archadia out by force. Why, then, not work with us instead? I am unmarried; you are a widow. Certainly you see that an alliance by marriage secures your homeland's best possible future. Your nation would become a favored state; your sons and grandsons would someday rule an empire. What, my lady, do you have to lose?"

"My liberty," she said, quiet but determined. "Mine, and Dalmasca's."

"And what good is liberty if you are not alive to enjoy it?" Vayne took her hand and drew her up out of the chair; her fingers were stiff and cool beneath his. "You will, with time, see that our betrothal is a perfect solution to this problem." He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her unyielding mouth. "And if not, well." Letting go of her hand, he shrugged. "Imperfect solutions are better than none." He stepped back from her with a low bow, and a meaningful look at Azelas. "I look forward to your answer, princess." He left her alone in the room, giving her time to think. He had very little doubt as to what her ultimate response might be, but she deserved the opportunity to escape her fate. At least it would not be on his head.

FFXII (OG): Vayne/Ashe

[sathari]

All his goals are either achieved or forever beyond his grasp, and so he is content to submit, if it is to her, who has bested him.

FFXII (OGC): Larsa/Penelo

[seventhe]

poetry

Re: FFXII (OGC): Larsa/Penelo

[sathari]

She knows he has not forgotten his schoolboy crush on her over the intervening years, when his letters to her begin to involve poetry.

At first they are quotes, but then she discerns a certain stiltedness of rhyme and meter, and understands that he is writing his own words.

He is emperor of the land that conquered her, and yet he still dares to bare his heart to her and his ineptitude, all in one--- even as she can see, sky pirate the she is, the sheer scope of his competence, in the growth of trade--- trade and not conquest--- that Archadia enjoys.

And so, when his proper majority is celebrated by all the Archadian Empire, she uses the cover of the crowds to slip her private skiff to the Emperor's private launch pad.

He is waiting for her there, and she might curse herself and him that she is so predictable to his wits--- but there he stands, grown tall and strong and so purely a specimen of masculine beauty that she has to remind herself to breathe.

And he is emeperor of all Archadia, yet he has left his own birthday celebration to wait for her arrival.

She comes down the ramp to him, and wordlessly tilts up her face to his, in silent demand.

"Penelo," he murmurs, like a wanderer in the desert would say, water, and she thinks, as his lips find hers, that he is better at this form of poetry than any other.

FFXII: Balthier/Ashe

[seventhe]

crown

"In the Service of the Queen" FFXII: Balthier/Ashe, G

[sathari]

The crown, Balthier thinks, sits heavily on her head in more ways than one; her brow is furrowed, her eyes shadowed, as she comes into her quarters. she looks up, though, when she sees him waiting for her, and manages a wan smile.

He comes to her, takes the crown from her head and sets it aside, presses gentle kisses onto the drawn ridges of her forehead, strokes them smooth with his lips, before tipping her face up to his with his fingertips. "For tonight, my leading lady," he murmurs tenderly, "forget your crown."

If her smile is a little weary as she stretches up to press her lips to his, it is at least genuine, and that is no small thing.

FFXII (OGC): Balthier/Penelo

[hamimi_fk]

Dancing

"Beggar at the Feast, Master of the Dance": FFXII (OGC): Balthier/Penelo, G

[sathari]

The courtiers at Ashe's coronation dance so gracefully and so beautifully. Penelo watches wistfully in her storebought finery, aware that even if some minor noble asked her to dance (whether mistaking her for true nobility or even on the tenuous strength of her claim to heroism and the queen's ear) she would probably make a fool of herself.

There is a tap at her shoulder, and she looks up in surprise to find Balthier standing there. He holds out a hand to her, smiling gallantly. "Would you do me the honor, milady?"

She blinks at him stupidly. "I--- what--- who--- me?"

He laughs. "Yes, of course, my darling dear--- why shouldn't we; we're both beggars at this feast, after all---" his eyes lift from hers, and she follows his gaze across the room to where Ashe--- Queen Ashe--- stands, surrounded by admirers, sycophants, hangers-on.

Penelo is suddenly aware that Ffamran mied Bunansa might well have been admitted to that circle--- she doesn't quite understand the Archadian version of nobility, with the wrenches that elections and advancement through accomplishment throw into a simple peerage system, but his family was well-placed enough, of that she is sure.

The sky pirate Balthier is another matter, though, hero or not, and yet he is stubborn enough, independent enough that though his father is dead (and was never mad to begin with, had a goal that even Penelo can grudgingly agree with, to free humanity from their not-exactly-godly masters) he will not resume his name and station.

And so he stands here with her; as he says, beggars at the feast. And asks a budding sky pirate for a dance when he would rather lay his hand in a queen's.

She gets to her feet, riding a wave of mingled pity and exasperation. "I'd be delighted," she says, drawing his attention back to her.

On impulse, she stretches and kisses his cheek. He blinks at her, surprised, and then his eyes fix on her and a slow smile spreads over his lips. "Perhaps we won't have to spend the evening begging after all," he says with a hint of mirth and a hint of promise, and she thinks that even being the ingenue and not his leading lady might be no bad thing.

FFXII (RW, or OGC): Fran/Penelo

[hamimi_fk]

You've grown so much

FFXII (OGC): Drace/Vossler

[deadcellredux]

Collar

FFXII (OGC): Basch/Gabranth

[deadcellredux]

Blood

Re: FFXII (OGC): Basch/Gabranth

[sathari]

Blood stains his brother's armor, not all of it his own; but the blood that froths up on his lips is entirely his.

Entirely theirs, these two who are so alike in countenance that Basch thinks that even their blood must be the same. He goes on one knee to his brother's side.

Noah looks up at him, eyes already clouding. "Larsa---" he murmurs, and, "Protect---"

"I promise, Brother," Basch murmurs, and seals the deathbed promise with the touch of his lips to his brother's bloodstained forehead.

FFXII (OGC): Al-Cid/Ashe

[spindizzy]

Peace and politics.

FFXII OGC: Balthier/Jules

[ser_pounce_alot]

Post-game, the rumor of Bahamut going down reaches Jules in Old Archades. He is justifiably surprised when, a year later, he finds Balthier sneaking around up to his old tricks in the city.

FFXII (OGC): Ashe/Basch

[owlmoose]

Heavy lies the head

"Service of the Queen": FFXII (OGC): Ashe/Basch, G

[sathari]

Six years after Larsa takes the throne, he comes of age, which occasions a state visit to Dalmasca.

Basch suspects that this has more to do with a certain lady sky pirate than anything related to politics. But he cannot object; it means, after all, that he gets to see his lady.

It is not an unmixed blessing: his first thought at the sight of her is that she looks tired.

Tired, worn, as Larsa does not; and his first thought is to blame himself, that he left her side at all.

(She has Balthier, he knows; had Balthier while she had him, sometimes quite literally. But a gadabout sky pirate is not the same thing as a proper knight's steadfast devotion.) (He thinks that he needs to explain this to Larsa, betimes.)

So he finds his way to her quarters, as inevitable and inexorable as the tides on the Phon Coast. He is not surprised, though he is gratified, when her guards let "Judge Magister Gabranth" into her presence unannounced.

She looks up from whatever business of state holds her chained to her desk at present, and her wan smile twists his heart. There is a long moment in which they look at each other, then, "I didn't think you'd come," she murmurs.

It is enough, and more than, to send him to her side, going on his knees to her even as he takes her hands. "Rather should not have left your side at all," he murmurs, "and leave you to carry your burdens alone."

She opens her mouth, doubtless to mouth some courtly denial; whatever she sees in his face stops the words upon her lips. Instead--- "Basch," she murmurs, barely a breath, and lowers her face to his.

Their kiss is all the sweetness he could ask, even as he aches to make it a comfort for her, and when they break, she rests her head against his, as if for a moment she could let him bear the weight of her crown for her.