ff_exchange | 2013 KISS BATTLE!

Entry tags:

2013 KISS BATTLE!

Final Fantasy Kissing Battle 2013

RULES

This year, we're creating Master Links for each fandom. When leaving prompts, please put it under the right canon! If in a compilation canon, please leave 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 2013

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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[This started out as a quick joke about the leveling system, and then I'm not really sure what happened, but SOMEHOW PORN.]

The first time Maria found herself pressed up against Leila, so close she was sure Leila could feel the heat of her blush, she didn't think much of it. The waves were rough, her stomach lurched out of sync with the sea, and she'd already tripped twice into Firion. When she apologized, Leila only laughed and offered her grog as "the quickest way to get yer sea legs."

Maria vomited most of it over the side of the ship and couldn't believe she'd taken medical advice from a pirate.

---

The second time was on solid ground, with fully functional legs. While exploring the desolation of Deist, Maria wandered so deep into her own thoughts—of lives senselessly snuffed out, of beautiful things ruined beyond hope of repair—that she failed to notice Leila had halted just ahead of her at the top of the stairway. They toppled forward together, Leila catching herself on her palms and Maria catching herself against Leila's back.

When Maria tried to get up, the clasp at her throat snagged on Leila's necklace. Efforts to separate tended toward strangulation on one end and indecent exposure on the other, with shouting in between.

"Just take yer bloody top off," Leila said, supporting herself with one arm and swatting over her shoulder with the other. "Not a one here who'd object to seein' what's beneath."

The rush of heat to Maria's face foiled a delicate detangling operation. "I'd mind!"

Firion cleared his throat. "So I'd offer to help, but I think Leila's solution is really better for every—"

"Get over here," Maria snapped.

And afterward she couldn't stop blushing, couldn't keep out the intrusive memory of Leila's bare skin. It was a less depressing distraction than any that had been haunting her since the fall of Fynn, but still a troubling one. No one whose moral compass spun so freely had any right to magnetism.

---

The third time Maria had to take some responsibility for. The bittersweet jubilation of retaking Fynn whirled and twisted inside long her after the battle ended, long after she'd stared down the empty streets, bloody ax still in hand, and talked herself out of going home. Brooding in the burnt husk of a house would help no one.

So she celebrated instead in the camp, talking circles with Firion around the knotted feelings too complex to pick apart. About everything but family, everything but Fynn. She teased him, gently, about the Lamia Queen, and he feigned dramatic aggrievement.

"Listen," he said, over-enunciating against the effects of his current drink, "she would've tricked anybody. Perfect Hilda disguise. Would've tricked anybody."

"Not Guy," Maria replied. She held his name out too long, as if that made up for earlier slurring. "Guy would've smelled her out." Or maybe he just wasn't broken the same way they were, bent toward monsters and career criminals.

Guy shook his head. "Smell flowers."

"Aye, the beast was clever enough for perfume," said Leila, whose approach Maria hadn't noticed. She squatted on her heels, not quite settling into the circle. "Still had a mean set of fangs, though. Ye try peekin' north of her tits?"

"They looked like Hilda's at the time," Firion replied. "So no."

Leila laughed and clapped him hard on the back. Her balance already seemed a little precarious, so Maria reached over helpfully to steady her. Strange that any part of her felt soft.

"Got a pair of wanderin' hands on ye, lass," Leila said lightly.

The angle of support had not been well planned. Maria let go as if she'd grabbed embers and stammered her way through an apology. Firion tipped over laughing.

"Maria red," Guy remarked. Sometimes Maria wished that he only spoke beaver.

---

After the fourth time, when Maria managed to bump hip-first into Leila while holding the crystal rod at the most obscene angle possible, she gave up hoping that whatever drew her toward Leila would fade away on its own. Leila wasn't a monster, after all. Crass, lawless, and as amoral as a cat, but only a paling gray against the greater darkness. It took so much more now to leave Maria appalled.

"You know," Firion told her on the way to the Mysidian Tower, "every time you feel up Leila, you get better at it."

Maria eyed him balefully. "It's not—I'm not trying to." She waited until he'd taken a sip of his grog to add, "I think I'm going to have to make out with her."

Firion sprayed grog through his nose. When his coughing subsided, he said, "You're going to have to walk me through your logic."

"Aye," said Leila, who Maria hadn't realized was in earshot and who sounded entirely too amused, "let's hear it."

Mercifully, a sea monster attacked.

---

She danced with Firion twice and drank three glasses of wine to muster the courage to walk over to Leila, who didn't seem to have much use for royal extravagance and had settled into a dark corner with her flask. Everyone celebrated and mourned in their own way, Maria supposed. She was just drunk enough to feel profound.

Leila nodded an acknowledgment and held out her flask. Against her better judgment, Maria took a sip and managed, with some difficulty, to swallow what felt like a mouthful of fiery nails. No wonder Leila thought grog was a gentle, stomach-settling drink.

As she coughed, Leila thumped her on the back. "Bit of an acquired taste, that. Come to get yer fix of gropin' me?"

"No. Actually, yes." Maria coughed again, cheeks blazing at a temperature she couldn't blame entirely on the alcohol. Focusing on Leila's face flustered her, so she let her gaze drift down to rest in the valley of cleavage. "It really hasn't been on purpose, but it keeps happening, so I must..." The words wouldn't come out, so she fumbled for different ones: "Maybe it's fate. Destiny wants us to kiss."

"Does she, now?" Leila's finger tipped her chin up. "Pretty sure 'destiny' is just yer libido."

Or possibly her inner ear. "Either way, do you mind?"

Leila laughed. "Didn't ask Firion for much help with yer lines, did ye?"

Maria huffed, but in the next moment Leila had pulled her in and pressed their mouths together. For a few exhilarating seconds, she let herself be overwhelmed; then it occurred to her that Leila's lips were capturing and tugging and Leila's tongue was tracing and probing, so she probably ought to be doing something with her own mouth other than letting it hang slightly open.

Leila flicked her tongue one last time over Maria's lower lip before pulling back and saying, "You're no good at it, lass."

"I just need practice! A few weeks ago, I couldn't swing an ax very well, either."

The skeptical angle of Leila's eyebrow suggested that these skills did not have much in common, but she shrugged and said, "Let's see how quick ye learn, then."

This time Maria focused past the tingling in her skin and heat rushing below it, tried to match and react. Kissing was a bit like dancing, she thought. Blind, slippery dancing. If she let herself be lost in it, her clamoring thoughts couldn't follow.

She fell out of rhythm with a startled noise as Leila's hand slid into her bodysuit to cup her breast. Leila withdrew, laughing, and said, "I'll rate ye two out of sixteen."

Breathing hard, Maria squared her shoulders. "I won't settle for less than a nine."

"Wouldn't have pegged ye for the sort to go past three in public."

Alarmed, Maria turned to see if the shadowed corner had attracted an audience, but everyone's attention was focused on the bleeding soldier who'd just staggered in.

---

It wasn't just that Leon kept his distance, his face as shielded as if he'd never raised his visor and his voice as cold as if they'd never been children together. It was that Firion and Guy kept looking at her as if she could fix it. That was what she'd always done, every time Leon stormed away from home or shouted politics against their parents until they were all hoarse. She'd save her voice and cast it like a spell into the rain and the dark: Come home.

For years it had been enough. In the cellar of her heart, in the place where she buried all her grief for the dead, Maria feared that this time it wouldn't be. Dwelling on this left her sick and angry that he could still hurt her more than a thousand greater tragedies; she needed badly not to think.

She found Leila on top of one of Fynn's towers, hair blowing free in the wind and flask gleaming orange in the sunset. Leila gave her a nod of acknowledgment, an appreciative leer, and an offer of teeth-melting alcohol. Maria declined the flask and leaned against the wall beside her.

"That yer lost boy ye brought back?" Leila asked.

Maria folded her arms. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Neither do I." Leila took a swig that made Maria's throat ache in sympathy. "As I hear it, ye lot mean to go sailin' into Hell."

Put that way, it sounded even more reckless than riding a wyvern into a cyclone. "It's the only way to stop the Emperor."

"Well, don't take me ship to do it." Leila drank, frowned, and shook her empty flask upside-down over the stones. "Shit," she said, after a long enough pause that Maria was fairly certain it wasn't in reference to the end of the booze. "Never been on this end of leavin' a fine piece of ass behind to go runnin' down the line 'twixt brave and stupid."

It didn't sound like she was fishing for an invitation to come along, and she'd always been markedly more enthusiastic about fighting in the open air than underground. Maria inclined her head and asked, "Are you worried about me?"

"Ha! If Leviathan couldn't hold ye, nor can Hell itself." Leila turned her face away for a moment, then arched languidly away from the wall and set one arm akimbo. "Now, did ye really come up here just for a spot of conversation? Or were ye hopin' for a quick fuck?"

Maria failed to suppress a blush. "I wasn't going to put it that way."

"Ye were takin' yer sweet time puttin' it any other way." Leila grinned, long and sly. "Had it all laid it out in yer head, didn't ye? How ye can't go to Hell afore ye let anyone in yer knickers?"

"That's not what the inside of my head sounds like. And what makes you so sure I've never done so?"

"I kissed ye."

Maria laughed in spite of herself, on a long breath that drew some of the tension out of her shoulders. "Show me how."

Leila set a hand on the wall over Maria's shoulder, silhouetting herself against the reddening sun, all scent and heat. "No doubt ye'll take right to it," she drawled, "seein' as it's yer destiny."

"Don't make fun of me," Maria said before pulling her closer.

Kissing felt near enough to familiar now, and she didn't jerk away when Leila's hand curled around her breast. She wasn't sure what to do with her own hands—not let them hang awkwardly, certainly, though she couldn't find a part of Leila that seemed like the right place to set them—but stopped worrying when Leila's callused thumb rubbed circles around her nipple. Heat curled through her, down from her mouth and chest and up from the soles of her feet. Her back pressed into the stone wall.

Maria found a purpose for her hands in undoing the clasp of her bodysuit.

"Eager little thing," Leila murmured against her cheek. Her lips trailed down to Maria's throat, leaving Maria's mouth free to pant as rough hands peeled the fabric down past her hips. Against the impulse to cover herself, Maria tugged at Leila's clothing.

One of Leila's hands stopped sliding against Maria's skin long enough to reach back and undo whatever it was keeping her top on. Maria caught the cloth, discarded it, and let her hands explore. It was strange to hold another woman's breasts, to compare weight and roundness before realizing none of that mattered as much as the way the nipples stiffened between her fingers. A pleased hum rose in Leila's throat; encouraged, Maria pinched.

"That's the way, lass. No such thing as a delicate pirate." Leila nuzzled up the side of her neck to nip her ear. "But don't fret; I'll be gentle with ye."

"Don't you dare. I'm every bit as tough as—" was as far as Maria got before Leila caught a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and kissed her with bruising force. Maria dug her fingers into Leila's back. She'd almost wrested some control back over what was happening in her mouth when Leila's other hand cupped the throbbing heat between her thighs and ran a fingertip between the slick folds.

Leila broke the kiss, disheveled and grinning. "Don't mind a bit of rough, do ye?" Her finger traced and teased, never quite slipping inside, and Maria's hips rolled against it.

Maria tightened her grip, let her nails press in. "Don't tease."

The finger slid home, and she clenched around it, breath hitching. Leila's thumb circled her sensitive nub; with each pass she unfolded, until what had felt thick became far too small to satisfy. She ground against Leila's knuckles, seeking more.

"Yer cunt's soppin' wet." Leila slipped in a second finger: too much, then not enough. Her wrist twisted back and forth until Maria screwed her eyes shut and watched stars gather on the backs of her eyelids. "Wish ye could take me whole fist, don't ye?"

Maria's eyes fluttered open as a third finger stretched her just shy of discomfort. "That's—wouldn't fit," she panted. The slow crooking of Leila's fingers closed her eyes again and left her without words for the lilting response of, "Oh, ye'd be surprised."

The shifting of every knuckle, the heat of Leila's breath on her cheek, the hand curved tight over her hip—all of it knotted up inside Maria, strung her insides taut. She parted her thighs as wide as the fabric bunched around her legs allowed. Leila's fingers moved nothing like her own ever had: strong, sure, deep, twisting and curling into places Maria had never known craved touch. The steady pressure of Leila's thumb above made her knees shake.

"Come for me, lass." Leila nipped at her mouth, coaxed out her moan. "Let me hear you."

She wasn't loud—hadn't ever been, sharing a room in a small house with two boys—but she let a whine build and break on her ragged breaths. Release arched up through her and echoed out in throbs. Her grip on Leila slackened. When she opened her eyes, she found Leila watching her intently, cheeks flushed and pupils wide, lips parted.

"There's yer gold standard," Leila said, voice too husky to be blithe. She slid her fingers free, leaving behind the dull jolts of aftershocks, and held her glistening hand in front of Maria's face. "Now let's see what ye—"

Maria caught her wrist and sucked the wetness from one of her fingers.

"Ah, ye minx!" Leila laughed breathily. "The tricks I'd teach ye..."

She wanted to spend the night up here, let the twilight fade and the moon rise, let the stars wink out and the horizon glow pale again, but even an hour was a precious thing to steal. She reached her free hand under Leila's skirt and tugged damp fabric out of her way.

The angle felt backward. So strange to brush her fingers over coarse curls without also feeling the tickle, so strange to trace the shapes of folds at once familiar and alien. Touching herself was simple; touching Leila was like dowsing, and she wasn't sure how to interpret every subtle twitch.

Leila's hand folded over hers. "Here, lass, like this. Ye feel that?"

Maria rolled her fingertips until she was certain of the distinction. "Yes."

"Press hard as ye like there. And here, ye feel? Steady now, and hook yer fingers in. Aye, aye."

Leila's hips rolled, back and forth and around. Maria felt for every subtle shift in texture, watched for every change in Leila's face, and fell in with their rhythm. If she wasn't giving as good as she'd got, at least she was solidly contributing. A red flush spread over Leila's chest, just visible in the low light; Maria hooked her arm around Leila's back and pulled her close to feel its heat. Their breasts rubbed together, slick with sweat.

Thighs trembling, Leila buried her face in Maria's shoulder. With a soft grunt, she clenched around Maria's fingers, and Maria kept her hand moving, slowly, easing her down.

Leila was still breathing hard when she raised her chin and kissed Maria, slow and deep. She parted on a laugh, saying, "Next time we'll get our boots off. Get ye on yer back."

Maria rubbed her hands together, for want of anywhere to wipe them. "Didn't you say something about your entire hand?"

"Oh, aye. Teach ye to kiss a little lower, too." Leila winked before stooping to retrieve her top. "For now, best get back to yer boys. Take a bath first, unless ye fancy Guy smellin' ye out."

Things were already awkward enough with Leon. "I should hurry, then," Maria said reluctantly, pulling her bodysuit back up. Here was the world pressing back in, but at least she'd had a few moments' freedom. "Firion's probably already looking for me. I'll—" something caught in her throat— "I'll be back."

"That ye will. I'll see to it nothin' slips past ye out of Hell and comes after Fynn." A pale gray indeed, against that dark.

Everything else Maria had to say was too much or not enough, so she only nodded and turned to leave. She had one foot on the stairs when Leila called after her, "Four out of sixteen."

Maria stopped to cast a challenging look over her shoulder. "Just you wait until I get back."

"Aye, that'd be the idea."

The Eblanese brotherhood was nothing to be trifled with, but he slipped past them all the same. The Fire Crystal was achingly warm in his palm, and he kissed the faceted rock with glee at his own daring. His vision dimmed; he blinked furiously, rubbing the burning stars out of his eyes.

The warm summer moonlight had vanished, replaced by the dim light flickering in the far corners of a spacious cavern. A woman lay draped upon an altar, upon a blanket of serpent’s scales.

“Uh.”

At first, he thought her asleep upon the stones; at his approach she lifted her head and the scales beneath her shivered. She uncoiled, rising above him – a fiendish amalgamation of beauty and malevolence. And had he but coal, he would have loved to sketch the loving details on paper.

“It has been so long....” the melody of her voice wavered, and she appraised him darkly, “Do you even know what it is you hold?”

She blinked at his silence. “So be it.”

The spell of wonder broke, and self preservation set in; he reached to draw his weapons, as she reached for hers – laid ceremoniously upon the altar where she had slept. In her hands, they burst into flame.

The shadow of flight never crossed his mind; cowardice did not become him, now or ever. Instead, he charged forward, Fiend or no.

They clashed, two steel blades to a scorching six, and the fire burned within him and around him. And when he opened his eyes, under the moons and the stars and the clear greenery of the summer glade, he could taste ash. Would but Lord Golbez have warned him...

Albeit, on retrospect, trifling so with baubles of ultimate power might not have been wise, even in the heat of the moment.

Edited 2013-03-01 00:11 (UTC)

The white mage shot him a withering glare, but left them alone. He padded to the bedside on soft, silent footfalls. Unnoticed, or simply unheeded, he stood watching the rise and fall of her breath.

“You know, I, uh...” his voice faltered, dry in his throat; his very presence eerily unwelcome, “...never imagined that you’d, you know...” He dipped his head, and his hair fell across his eyes. “...take a beating for me.”

Her shoulders twitched as she scoffed – a soft huff of breath into the pillow.

“I can take it,” she replied, voice dull. “You couldn’t.”

“Doesn’t explain why you didn’t bash their heads in instead.”

“Maybe I didn’t think they did anything to deserve it. Or,” her words dripped with scorn, “maybe I foolishly imagined you’d think twice before you cut another purse.”

“Yeah, well, you know me.” Her breath hitched as he brushed the yet healing welts across her back. “Old habits die hard.”

Her muscles tensed under his fingertips, and he jerked his hand back.

“So. We got a world to save and all that rot. The sooner you’re back on your feet, the better.” Brushing her hair back from her face, he dipped down to kiss her cheek before beating a hasty retreat, pausing at the door. “Ciao.”

The rift in the deck widens until the entire stern of the Blackjack falls with a thunderous crack of metal and wood. Celes’ hand slips out of his; she hits the falling deck below, rolling out of sight as it disappears. The last Locke sees of her is a flutter of her now grungy, tattered white cloak.

The rest of the airship crumbles beneath him, around him. Terra grabs hold of him, and for a moment they tumble together amidst a shower of sparks. Then the airship is swallowed whole by the clouds below, and Locke is amazed to find himself jerked upward, held aloft by her sheer force of willpower.

For several long moments, they glide above the clouds; but Locke knows she can’t keep it up for long – she’s struggling to counterbalance his weight, and her glow flickers as he drags her down.

He wants to tell her he’s sorry for getting her wrapped up in all of this. He wants to tell her he’s proud of her. He wants to kiss away the tears glistening in her eyes as she watches the horizon start to burn, wants to shield her from the horrors that he promised would never come to pass. But he can’t hear past the rush of wind and the thunder of blood coursing through his ears.

He does the only thing he can for her, and lets go.

If the poets of Baron could be allowed to know of the true nature of their relationship, Rosa doesn't doubt that they'd have much to say about it. Cecil and Kain lend themselves to such comparisons, when the two men stand side-by-side - Cecil fair and silver-haired and shining, and Kain hidden behind storm-darkened armor. Day and night, some would say, or light and darkness, both of them revolving around Rosa's beauty, like the night and the day are both defined by the sun.

It would be utterly ridiculous, of course. They're nothing like that, not at all. Kain is still brash at times and often the one that shines the brightest of the two, while Cecil still sometimes hides behind his old uncertainty - old habits die with difficulty, she supposes. And Rosa is no perfect and pure lady, as some of the poets liked to say. She doubts that their idea of a pure lady would have suggested this configuration of a relationship in the first place.

It would have been boring, anyway, if it had happened like the poems say. Imagine, expounding for hours and hours before even stealing a kiss! They have to be careful - there are times when they must refrain, no matter how little they like it - but she'd much rather kiss them both, fiercely and with no courtly delicacy, and see what their mouths can say without words.

Her eyes are owl-wide and her lips are always parted, as if she's taking in too much and has to let the excess fall out with her breaths. Even in the snow, her skin is flushed from the fire inside.

When you caught glimpses of her in the labs, she was always shrinking into herself, mouth pinched and eyes glassy. "Stay away from her," Cid told you. "She's not like you."

She's like a stranger wearing a stolen skin, scrubbed clean of ghosts. It's hard to visualize her face reshaped by despair or her voice pitched low and broken. When she looks at you, there's no flicker of recognition, only the same desperate curiosity with which she regards all the world.

"I'm not like you," she replied, when you stole a moment to ask her. "I was born like this."

"Then we are alike," you insisted. "They made me like you."

She stared at you, mouth tight and eyes tired. "I don't think they'd agree," she said, and you couldn't argue; only one of you was locked up.

Your twist of irony, the bitterness in your tone—all of it flows in and out of her without making an impression. There's nothing left for your hooks to catch. This time you're the one to deny her symmetry.

You'd seen her depressed, hurt, resigned, and withdrawn, but never frightened. Her distress struck something inside you inside like a sudden thaw.

"He wants to take my mind away." Sobs shook her voice. "He wants to erase me. Please—please—"

You squeezed her hand, which burned like a live coal, and brushed your lips against the fever-heat of her forehead. "I'll find a way to stop it," you whispered, and couldn't.

Nervous hope flutters in her voice; for an instant she is almost familiar. "Have you... loved anyone?"

When you saw her again, she was gone.

Fiend backstory! ♥ Clearly Golbez didn't say anything because there's nothing Golbez loves like a fun surprise for his minions.

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR WORDS

This is amazing. I love the glimpse of the world afterwards, where you don't really know what was forgotten and what is remembered. YES

Edited ((OH MY GOD THIS IS SEV AND THIS IS REALLY HUMILIATING POSTING FROM THE WRONG ACCOUNT WHOOPS)) 2013-03-01 23:37 (UTC)

I love this -- how passionate poor Sara is, and how much having a gesture that is hers means to her.

alskd;laskd;laskd;laskd;laskd;laskf;laskf

this is so everything I love about them -- gritty and dangerous and loyal and so understated, but, yeah, the electricity

THANK YOU SO MUCH and sorry it has taken so long to reply - this is absolutely PERFECT.

WELL YES

YES GOOD

omg YES. I love how -- delicate? -- this is, and the comparisons of competition: of course Kain would understand sibling rivalry, and just. Yes this is perfect for them.

a;sldka;sldka;lsdksa yessssssssssssssssssss

because of course Kain would be all noble and confused and IDIOT

I love the parallels with Porom-Rosa and what it says about white mages underneath. YES

okay can we talk about all the things about this that are awesome:

- Edge and Rydia having a giant goddamn sulk on Mount Ordeals
- the way they all understand and DON'T understand each other's issues
- don't be an asshole
- MAKEOUTS

basically: yes

um, YES. I love how they bond in such a short passage, over something they can't really remember.

OKAY:

Cranky!Fran is AMAZING
Sulky!Balthier is sadly adorable
and Ashe is quintessential Ashe as always

this is perfect. Thank you!

alskd;laskd;laskda;lsd

yes

this is perfect for them, as awful as that sounds. Thank you!

OH MY GOD I DON'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T READ THIS UNTIL RIGHT NOW

YOU HAVE WON THE BATTLE IN MY OPINION

I AM STILL LAUGHING

INDA BUTZ

oh yes. I have always considered Rosa the sensible one, too. Thank you!

\o/

I am glad you liked it!

THE SULKING MIGHT BE MY FAVOURITE PART

or maybe the makeouts

or all of it

I am so glad you liked it, darling. (and sorry that this was the thing that killed my brain so dead I couldn't write any other kisses. XD)

THIS IS PERFECT. Their NAMES. The LANCE. I am dying.

Glad you liked! :D Poor Sara, princess is not a fun job.

Awww, thanks! And "delicate" in particular makes me so happy--- there is definitely a delicacy, a gentleness, in how I see these two dealing with each other, each of them knowing from the inside what it's like to be second-best (often, especially in Porom's case, despite having areas of strength that are at least equal to those of the "favored" sibling). So glad you like it!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 24 of 26

2013 KISS BATTLE!

Keeping Score: FFII: Maria/Leila, Explicit (1/2)

Keeping Score: FFII: Maria/Leila, Explicit (2/2)

Passing the Torch, FFI/FFIV, Marilith/Rubicante, PG

[BlitzKiss!] Shield, F!Fighter/M!Thief, PG

Reft, FFVI, Terra/Locke, PG

Poetic Conceits (FFIV OGC, Cecil/Rosa/Kain, SFW)

Tabula Rasa: FFVI: Celes/Terra, PG

Re: Passing the Torch, FFI/FFIV, Marilith/Rubicante, PG

Re: Something, FFI, Sara/Female!Light Warrior, PG-13

Re: Free: FFI: Sara/Lady Red Mage, PG

Re: A Little Further (Lightning/Sazh, T)

Re: Not Quite Like the Stories (FFI, Sarah/f!Black Mage, G)

Re: TAY: Kain/Porom

Re: "Dopplegang", TAY: Kain/Porom, PG-13

Re: Breaking the Silence [2/2] (Rydia/Edge/Kain, PG)

Re: D:FF - Laguna/Tifa

Re: Distractions (Ashe/Balthier, T)

Re: Eyes Open (FFVI, PG, both dub- and non-con)

Re: "Untuck", FFVI, Cecil/Kain, PG-13

Re: Poetic Conceits (FFIV OGC, Cecil/Rosa/Kain, SFW)

Re: Not Quite Like the Stories (FFI, Sarah/f!Black Mage, G)

Re: Breaking the Silence [2/2] (Rydia/Edge/Kain, PG)

Re: "Untuck", FFVI, Cecil/Kain, PG-13

Re: Free: FFI: Sara/Lady Red Mage, PG

Re: TAY: Kain/Porom