ff_exchange | 2014 Final Fantasy Kiss Battle

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2014 Final Fantasy Kiss Battle

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

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

Aw, thanks--- glad you liked it!!!! (I think I said in a comment above that I always feel ~obligated~ to deal with Edge's rather skeevy-at-least-to-my-tastes behavior whenever I write Edge/Rydia, and tihs wasa great prompt for that!)

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS ~BABIESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~ *pets them* So glad you liked! (It turns out that I have way more ~friendship feels~ about these two than I ever realized, yay this prompt for bringing them out!)

Oh, wow, thanks! (I am kind of blown away in a good way about all the nice comments this blitzkiss has gotten--- and, let's put it this way, all the lovely incorrigement has gotten me to keep working on it.) (Also, the Vayne in my head and his ~ASHE FEELS~ OMG, like I seriously, unironically need an icon for them involving, no joke, the lyrics to "Wrecking Ball". Yes, a fucking Miley Cyrus song ~perfectly captures~ my Vayne's feelings for Ashe OMG.)

Summary: His death begins the life of another's. Zack Fair in his final hours of living, and Cloud walks the earth as his living legacy. Crisis Core finale.

BEWARE THE BLITZKRIEG KISS OF DOOM!

~

The desert heat, it clings onto my black clothing, scorching me slow and steady. I lift my head to feel the dry, humid wind on my face and smile at the hot sun. On this beaten path, my body sways to the beat of rolling tires and desert highways as I recline on the back of this yellow pickup truck.

It's almost been a year now - living as fugitives, running away from Shin-Ra and the Turks. It's no walk in the park, especially when I have a liability to look after. I look sidelong at my comatose companion, sighing, salvaging hope. “I’m just kidding. You know I'd never do that to you."

No response. Again, I die a little on the inside. How much longer can smiles pull me at the teeth until I drop dead?

I don't know. I don't want to think about it, and so I smile to squeeze from my bleeding heart to find the strength to reach out and ruffle his hair. I smile at the golden spikes that never stay down under the mess of my hands, so like my own once. Angeal's phantom must be following me. Am I cursed to fall, too, for my beliefs?

I try not to think about myself, about what makes me unhappy. I think about what drives me to survive. Cloud.

Mako addiction is some pretty hardcore stuff. What I don't get is how I snapped out of it. We were able to hitchhike across the desert, but I'm not sure when's our luck gonna run out. I get the feeling that it will only be a matter of time. I can tell when I spy Shin-Ra's army in the shadow of the horizon. Not exactly your every day friendly mirage.

Hailing for the driver to drop us off behind some random outcropping, I haul Cloud across the sand and place him in the safety of a hollow space. Just know, I'm doing this for you, buddy. You mean a lot to me, more than my own Buster Sword. Heh. Just a little. I smile despite my fears and ruffle his hair.

I don't see the hand that reaches out to me when I turn to walk away.

~

The moment I step into plain sight, they all raise their guns at me.

"Boy, oh boy... The price of freedom is steep."

I smile at the face of Death.

~

I don't remember what happened after that. Bits and pieces float in my mind, unable to reconnect to form complete memories – but I remember. I remember all the memories I've made with Sephiroth, Tseng, and Cissnei; the talks we've had, the places we've been, the actions we've seen.

The first time I met Cissnei; I remember her calm maroon eyes and long red curls, such a pretty girl wearing a professional blue blazer. She introduced herself as a Turk. All smiles and always focused, shuriken always poised in the heat of battle. No matter how often I flirted with her, she kept a cool head, always polite and aloof.

My vacation at Costa del Sol with the Turks, she had offered me Suntan lotion in her hot swimsuit, just like that one time she gave me an answer to my prayers. "Here's a present," Cissnei said, who handed me the keys to her car and I stared, speechless. I couldn’t believe she breached protocol to allow Cloud and I to escape.

And then I hear a deep voice, belonging to a no-nonsense kind of guy. "Ready to go?"

"Tseng." He introduced himself to me with a permanent scowl and cold set of brown eyes that intimidated me for months on end until I learned to take his frosty side in stride. Sephiroth invades my mind next, because he's the only one who can rival Tseng in seriousness and rare cracks at humor.

"I understand now..." Sephiroth had never taken me seriously, a young country boy nicknamed as "the puppy" around headquarters for his unparalleled enthusiasm and annoying energy, but spending time with me made him realize why Angeal - one of his best friends - held me in high regard. "Where's Angeal?"

"Sound the alert." Tseng. Always the serious one, even in the face of danger. I smirk. Just like Sephiroth... "We'll meet again soon."

"This is my job!" she had said, conviction and despair strong in her eyes. I had threatened her not to cross me and she stood her ground despite the inner turmoil conflicting with her mission. Ha, I remember that, Cissnei in a rare moment of emotion. The only other time I saw emotion from her had been when she crossed my path again.

"Already happened." I gave her an incredulous look then, and she only grinned at me in fondness. Why she's masquerading as my wife-to-be, I didn't want to know. And yet, it did cross my mind sometimes, even though I'd been dating Aerith... How sometimes Cissnei and I shared our own special moments in the chaos that followed.

We gazed at the radiant sun once, questioning the complex nature of humans, but... "...lies within each person" what did she say again...?

"...better be safe now..."

Oh, yeah. Thanks for looking out for me, Cissnei. You're the best. She began to walk, but paused to turn around and smile at me in farewell, until the next time we met again on the job.

"Zack, I gotta go."

I'm glad I got to see her smile, because that's the last memory I'll have of her as the fight starts wearing me down. The number of injuries are increasing without pause for breath, and I strive to survive. My memories are fading one by one, and yet I try to latch onto them.

"I've never seen you use that..." He ducked his head, solemn and weary, admiring the unique craftsmanship. Cloud. A country boy, just like me.

The SOLDIER infantryman removed his helmet to reveal spiky blonde hair and an adorable smile. "Like you've been there."

"...nothing else out there." His laughter, his heartfelt salute, his bright blue eyes - he reminds me of me.

His voice disappears into the quiet noise, "...thanks... Hold on–" as images of Aerith emerge on the forefront of my mind. I focus on her beautiful green eyes, the adorable sound of her light and airy voice, "Hello~!" and the love of her pure and innocent heart.

I see everyone, all my friends, disappear before my very eyes.

Aerith twirled around, her long braid swaying with the motion, hints of sadness flickering in her forest green eyes.

"Will I... see you again?..." My final memory... is of her saying... "I'll be here."

She promised to wait for me, but... I don't think... I will ever see her again.

I struggle not to forget her, clinging on to all my memories of her, holding them deep in my mind, not wanting to forget, but soon, she too, fades.

Gone, like Angeal, and Sephiroth... like Cissnei, and Tseng... like Cloud... everyone else... and me...

The SOLDIER aims at my head, eyes steady like his hands on the gun, and without hesitation the man fires.

I release a blood-curdling scream.

~

I wake up to see tears falling from the sky. Cold, and wet, and tired, I find myself too weak to move. Even breathing now... feels like a huge workout...

Angeal's Buster Sword rests beside me, whatever blood that remained from the massacre long gone and washed off the steel due to the downpour. My grip lies slack, yet encircled beneath the handle. Water splashes into my eyes, a sad blend of grey, blue, and more grey blurring my vision. My eyes... so heavy... can't keep them up...

A head of soppy blonde hair enters my line of vision. It hurts my face to smile. It's Cloud... He's finally awake... That's great. He can escape...

I cringe at the pain, a violent wake up call from the haze of death, and grit my teeth, waiting for it to pass. My face soon relaxes, giving me the moment to smile as I look up at my disoriented friend. The glazed look in his mako blue eyes, dull with weariness and shock, reflects my own and it reminds me that I don't... have a lot of time... left...

Words fall off my lips, like snow being blown away by the wind. I can't even hear myself speak.

Whatever I say, it reaches Cloud somehow. He kneels in catatonic shock, repeating what I am saying in hushed whispers, but I know he's listening. I gather what little strength I have remaining and lean forward, lifting my left arm, reaching out to him, ignoring the pain until I grab his head, pulling him down to lay his face on my torso.

I convey my last wish, my final words, to my best friend - my living legacy.

My hand drops, arm splashing back into the murky red puddle. Cloud lifts his head slow, eyes still unfocused, but now sad and afraid. He's going to lose me, and be left behind in an industrial world full of crime and greed and violence. He's afraid to survive on his own. I see blood smeared on the right side of his face, blonde hair also coated in it.

It's... my blood, and the infantrymen, and... like the rest of them... I can't go on...

My muscles are no longer crying in pain; instead, they've become completely numb. Raising the Buster Sword, I hand it to Cloud, and he takes it, curling his hands around the handle. I let go and with that final shove the last of my strength leaves me. I smile, a smile I hope is full of pride for the boy to find strength in.

My honor... my dreams... I leave them all... to you...

...my eyes... starting to close... I feel... sleepy...

"Goodnight, Zack."

~

Now, I can finally rest.

~

The sky, so blue, so wide, so free...

'That girl' – Aerith, my love – 'she said that the sky frightened her.'

Clouds. Sunshine. The Lifestream.

'That looks so... liberating.'

Feathers.

Pure, white feathers.

They flutter one by one on my body.

A man soaring from the heavens – not a monster, nor an experiment – a human, an angel –

With eyes wide open, I watch him descend to meet me.

'Those wings... I want them, too.'

He lowers his arm and I raise mine, and together we grasp each other's hand.

My body feels weightless, hovering above the ground, ascending – I close my eyes, smiling wider, and arise.

No more burden. No more pain. No more sorrow.

'It feels... good.'

I see Cloud limping along while dragging the Buster Sword, and I speak out to him knowing he won't hear me.

'If you see Aerith, say hi for me.'

A lone feather falls from the sky... floating, gliding, drifting...

'Hey, would you say I became a hero?'

...until the wind whisks it away, forever under the mercy of nature.

~

I stand in the middle of a field of yellow flowers, astounded by the endless white brilliance of what one would call the afterlife. Feathers rain down on me, floating all around me in an incorporeal carrier of warm winds. One fits itself onto my palm, a stark white contrast to my black glove. I smile and lift the hand that cradles it, blowing a goodbye kiss so that the feather can carry with it my undying message to Cloud.

"The price of freedom is steep, but as long as you remember to embrace your dreams, whatever happens, you will always have the strength to protect your friends. This is farewell, but not goodbye. Someday, we'll meet again. I promise."

Aahahaa, YES!! You've captured the tongue-in-cheek silliness that I love about this game. This is adorable and sexy. I love it - thank you for filling my prompt! :D

This is so beautiful! I love it.

that was totally where I was going XD

SARA LEVELED UP INTO A SUMMONER

Locke and Celes finally climbed out of the cellars of South Figaro.

"Whew! Made it!" Locke dusted himself off from the decades of dust in the old tunnels. "Well, I've rescued you. Kiss me!"

"What?!" Celes was affronted.

"I'm the dashing hero," Locke explained as if she was new to the world, "and you're the damsel in distress. It's tradition. Kiss me!"

"No," Celes replied as if Locke was new to the world, "I'm a general in the most powerful army of the most powerful empire in the world. I'm a first-class swordswoman and mage. You are a short little thief who thought he'd break into someone's wine cellar and get lucky. And you ARE lucky that I know Cure because that dog-bite looks infected!" And with a word, Celes healed the hideous wound on Locke's forearm.

"Yeah, well," Locke rubbed his newly healed skin. "I did kinda risk my life to save you since you were already chained to a wall and beaten black and blue. So how about just a quick peck and we'll be on our way?"

Celes' lips curled as she leaned in close to Locke's face. She breathed hotly into his ear, tracing the bend of it with her tongue before giving his lobe a hard bite, drawing blood.

She whispered, "They chained me to the wall because they know I'm way more dangerous than the beasties crawling around down there, or any beastie crawling around up here. Remember that, princess." She gave a quick peck on his bleeding lobe before striding away, still limping slightly. "Come along now! Or else the guards will have their way with you!"

Locke rubbed his ear, making a face, "Well, excuse me, general."

Edited 2014-02-17 00:08 (UTC)

She can feel his hands trembling in hers, as they stand on the altar.

He looks very handsome in his suit and silk vest and tie. And he looks very nervous.

The priest drones on about the sacred duties of matrimony, but Edea purses her lips like a fish, daring Cid to laugh.

"You look beautiful," he mouths silently as the priests asks anyone in attendance if they'd like to object.

Cid arches an eyebrow at Edea, twisting his mouth. They are both thinking, if anyone dared object to a sorceress's wedding, a funeral will soon proceed this ceremony.

Poor Cid's hands still tremble as he excitedly wriggles the ring onto Edea's finger, and Edea gently holds Cid's hand still to slip the ring onto his.

Vows complete, the priest pronounce them husband and wife.

"Finally," Edea says none too softly as Cid hauls her in for the biggest kiss of their lives.

OMGGGGG YES!! XDDDD Ahahahaha, this is PERFECT. I am so happy you filled this prompt; thank you!!

Thank you! I really enjoyed putting it together. :)

You're welcome, because it's been at least 20 years since I've seen that 'toon (in hindsight, it was pretty terrible, plus Link was a dick.)

This idea has been working at me ever since I saw your prompt. I used Shiva's appearance in FFX as my inspiration because that's the canon I know best, but I don't think it's terribly FFX specific otherwise.

-----

Outside the palace it was summer, blue skies and warm breezes from the south, but Elsa looked around her and saw nothing but winter. Ice encased the vanity, her hairbrush, her ribbons; frost encroached onto the edges of the mirror; the round box she had tried to pick up bare-handed was buried under a small snowdrift. Fighting back tears of frustration, she yanked her glove back on and sat hard on the edge of the bed, dropping her face in her hands. The coronation was in less than a month. How could she be queen if she couldn't even control her powers for one minute?

Even through the gloves, she could feel her fingers turning to ice against her face, and she dropped her hands. "Stop it," she muttered to herself. "Stop feeling, stop being so afraid!" But even as she whispered the words, she could feel the familiar sensation: cold panic rising up in her chest, the temperature plummeting around her, her breath turning to clouds in the air. She screwed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists. Control, control, get it under control...

"Yes. You need to learn control."

Elsa's eyes flew open. "Who?? Who's there?!" The servants knew better than to bother her when the door was locked, and Anna-- this was not Anna's voice. Elsa stood up and looked around wildly, and then she saw her: a woman, nude but for a dusting of frost over her pale skin, her hair standing out in a cloud of wild blue braids that fell to her feet. She was beautiful, features chiseled like a marble statue; her eyes glittered blue and knowing. "Where did you come from?"

"You called me, and I came." The woman's voice was rich and resonant, and somehow calming. Like the still waters of a deep mountain lake, like a bell ringing on a snowy day. "You've been calling me for a long time."

Elsa shook her head. "I haven't called anyone. I can't be with other people." She lowered her eyes to the floor, ashamed of her memories. "I might hurt them."

The woman shook her head, the metal beads in her braids clicking. "You can't hurt me, my dear. I promise." She laid a finger underneath Elsa's chin, tipping her face up to look into her blue, blue eyes. "I am the aeon called Shiva, and I am the power of ice personified."

"I don't understand," Elsa said.

Shiva dropped her hand to Elsa's shoulder and smiled. "You see the power we share as a curse. But soon you will realize that it can be a blessing, too." She leaned forward and kissed Elsa on the forehead, pressing her cold marble lips to her forehead, closing each eye with another kiss, and finally a soft brush against Elsa's own mouth. "Soon," she repeated, softly, and the shiver that ran down Elsa's spine was not only from the chill of Shiva's breath.

"But how--" Elsa murmured. "How will I..." She opened her eyes, and she was alone. Shiva had gone, the air in the room a few degrees warmer in her wake. Elsa sighed, and sat back in her chair. Alone, again, missing the one person who might truly understand her.

WARNINGS: Non-con/dub-con, violence, death. May be deeply disturbing, my apologies in advance.
***
In the middle of the night, Madeline Branford was shaken from her sleep by one of her father’s butlers.

“Miss Madeline! Your father,” the butler was pale as chalk, “he’s dead!”

Panic struck, Madeline threw on her dressing robe and ran out of her room before the butler could stop her. She sped down the hallway towards the sound of a great commotion in the main hall. The butler chaseed after her, too late to avert her eyes from the sight of the police lowering the body of her father from the rafters.

Madeline screamed.
***
“I am most terribly grieved by the death of your father,” Mayor Gesthal said in an almost exaggerated tone of sadness, “He was a very dear friend of mine. He did so much for our city…”

Madeline listened but barely paid attention. She had just laid her father into his grave. There was barely an investigation. Suicide, the coroner ruled it. She could not believe it; a man so passionate about the advancement of technology and so utterly adoring of his only child could not possibly end his own life.

“And Vector Industries has been vital to the development of industry of our great city,” Gesthal droned on, perched in Mr. Branford’s chair behind Mr. Branford’s desk.

Madeline sat primly in her chair across the desk from him. The sight of him made her sick. She hated Gesthal. There was just something that she never liked about him. He seemed wise and charismatic and clever, but there was something dark under the surface, like a monster in the depths of an ocean. Yet her father trusted him, trusted his know-how to create a business from a bunch of etchings on a chalkboard. Mr. Branford was the brains, and Gesthal was the capital to build her father’s company into an industrial, mechanical empire.

But there were things that the Mayor was doing, in the name of progress, that neither her father nor she agreed with.

“Respectfully, I do not like you sitting in my father’s chair, sir,” Madeline was barely able to mask her contempt.

“Oh, my dear, that’s what I brought you here to discuss,” Gesthal sat up straight, hands folded on the desk. “This is my chair now, and my desk, and my house and…”

“What?” Madeline’s face drained of color.

“You see,” Gesthal explained, “I am the majority stock-holder in your father’s estate. Since you are not yet of age, control of Vector Industries and all of your father’s property is under my control.”

“NO!” Madeline shot up out of her chair, her hands clenched. “Father wanted ME to run the business! He built it for our family!”

“I have the papers here to prove it,” Gesthal pushed the will forward. “I trust you can read. Rare thing for a girl.”

Madeline studied the papers. Something seemed off. Why would her father give Gesthal everything? Even after her father and Gesthal vigorously argued only days before his death…?

“I…can’t believe this!” Madeline threw down the papers. “This has to be a forgery! My father was getting leery of you taking land from the townspeople…!”

“For the greater good of the city,” Gesthal rose from his desk. “Look here, my dear, I am not seeking to throw you out onto the streets. I am seeking a more…satisfactory arrangement.” Gesthal stood uncomfortably close to Madeline.

“Like what?” Madeline stood tall, head high.

“Well,” Gesthal reached out and stroked her chin, “pretty girl like you, with no family, alone, fresh, untouched…”

Madeline smacked his hand away, “Mr. Gesthal, shame on you!”

Gesthal grabbed her by the throat, backing her into her father’s desk, “Quiet, my dear! You will serve me. You will perform all of the duties a good little wife is expected to perform, to my satisfaction.” Gesthal leered at her, his eyes wide with lust.

“But,” Madeline choked, struggling to free herself from his grip, “You’re so much older than my father was…”

“That matters not!” Gesthal hissed. “There have been many men older than I that have produced countless heirs with younger brides. So, what do you say?”

“What if I refuse?” Madeline gritted through her teeth.

“Well,” Gesthal’s lips curled, “then you can ‘serve’ every member of my household, every servant, every soldier, every grunt, every lowly dick in this city. Or I can toss you out. A girl like you would easily fall prey to any roving gang, looking to sell your for profit, or pleasure.” Gesthal released his grip, “oh, and all of your possessions are mine, too. All of your pretty dresses, in case you did think of actually leaving.”

Madeline braced herself against the table, choking back the tears but failing. She wept bitterly. There seemed to be no end to the tears these past few horrible days.

“I’ll stay,” she murmured, “for now.”

“What was that?” Gesthal snapped.

Madeline raised her chin, “I’ll stay.” The bile bubbled in her stomach. She was on the verge of vomiting.

“Good,” Gesthal nodded. “Now that we are in agreement,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against hers.

His beard scratched against her skin like steel wool pads, and he tasted like that horrible brown drink that rich old men were so fond of sipping. Madeline clenched her teeth to prevent his tongue from slithering in.

Gesthal pulled back, “Now turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around!” Gesthal barked, and he roughly spun her around and bent her over the desk. “Now lift your skirts.”

Madeline’s heart jumped into her throat, “WHAT?”

Gesthal turned her towards him again, and smacked her across the face sharply. “Are you deaf? Over the desk and up with the skirts NOW!”

Madeline shook with terror. Gesthal had gone utterly mad. She feared what his temper could do. She slowly hiked the black crepe skirts of her dress up over her backside, as well as the underskirts underneath.

Impatient, Gesthal tossed the skirts over her back, and pulled down her panties, “Ah, fresh young thing.”

Madeline whimpered as she felt Gesthal’s cold hands wipe across her bare buttocks, squeezing and probing.

“Nothing like fresh virgin cunny to revitalize an old man,” Gesthal rubbed his hand against her mound, running a finger between her lips.

“Please, don’t,” Madeline pleaded.

“My dear, I am an impatient man,” Gesthal smacked her buttock with the same force that he used on her cheek. “I get what I want, when I want it, right now!”

Madeline forced back the vomit as she heard the sound of fabric rustling behind her, and felt something cold and fleshy pressed against her sex. However…

“Come on…” Gesthal grunted, as Madeline heard the sloppy sound of skin rubbing skin. “Get going…” Madeline felt it press against her, prodding between her fold but… “Up! Up!”

Gesthal was cursing and grunting, but not in a way that Madeline expected. He sounded deeply frustrated, smacking himself against Madeline, pressing against her bottom forcefully, even ramming his hips against her, crushing her against the desk. And still…

“Bah!” Gesthal, in a fit of rage, pulled Madeline upright by the hair and spun her around again. “You uncooperative bitch! On your knees! NOW!” He threw Madeline to the floor, holding her by the hair.

Madeline was at eye level to the source of Gesthal’s frustrations. It was floppy and fleshy and purplish and shriveled like grape left too long on the vine. Underneath it hung what looked like a weathered old sack.

“Open your mouth,” Gesthal commanded.

Madeline shook her head. It revolted her.

Gesthal pulled her hair harder, as if he would scalp her, “OPEN. NOW!”

Threatening to gag, Madeline opened and Gesthal shoved himself into her mouth.

“Bite and you’re dead,” Gesthal growled. “Suck. Get me hard.”

As much as Madeline tried to suck at this vile meaty thing in her mouth, Gesthal was still frustrated. He pushed her face fully into his crotch, jamming Madeline’s nose with his greying pubic hair. Madeline choked and gagged, tears pouring down her face. She wished she’d take one last breath and die right there on the floor, just to end the misery. But it just kept going on and on, minutes feeling like hours with Gesthal’s thing filling her mouth.

“Bah!” Gesthal pushed her away, and for one blessed moment Madeline felt the relief of that horrible thing being taken out of her. But her horror was just beginning.

“Worthless!” Gesthal pulled up his pants. “I’ll teach you! Wait until I’ve had some tonic, then I’ll show you how to fuck a husband properly!” And Gesthal stormed away, out of the office, slamming the door.

Madeline collapsed onto the floor. She prayed for death. She prayed for her father to save her.

But no one would save her. She was a prisoner of an impotent tyrant. She watched as her city, including her father’s home, was razed to the ground, and in its place was a city of steel and soot and darkness. Vector became an empire of the worst kind, with Gesthal as its emperor. And she watched children become the subjects of horrific experiments, one such little boy going utterly mad. And she, herself, was subjected to the failing body and violent temper of an old man, who compensated by destroying all life around him and replacing them with machines: her father’s machines.

And it was not until a terrible storm knocked out power to the castle that Madeline slipped away, crawling through the rancid sewers and into the storm, lost and alone.

Awww, thanks *blush* that's a lovely compliment! but yes I really enjoyed it. (I'm sorry so many of my comments are incoherent YUP but man after the past two weeks I am not brain.)

Sometimes Aerith forgets herself when she look at Tifa fighting. It was so easy for her to stare, maybe a little slack-jawed at first, but it was still with wonder at the seamless transition between the warmth in her eyes when Tifa talked to her- like they've been friends forever when it feels like the first time in forever that Aerith doesn't have to hide how she heard voices from deep below to someone who looks at her so clearly deep deep inside- but by golly when there's some rustle in the bushes that warmth became a firespark and the tinder inside that bosom-friend ignited into a blaze that rampaged over beast and machine and person alike.

There were many times that Aerith would take Tifa's hands, and she does magic well enough to heal her own hurts, but there's something tender, almost blessed in cradling those bruised hands and arms in Aerith's own calloused palms that work with the dirt and the weeds to cast earthly light to heal them. She drew strength from Tifa, which seemed bottomless and newly sprung.

Aerith's strength comes from the voices of her mother below and her mother who wields a broom and spade, and she felt like such a witch what with all these suits chasing her so there was delight in giving back so openly.

"Hey Tifa, want to give me some pointers?"

"Hmm?"

"With fighting, of course! I want to send some big lummox flying one day with big kapow!" And she raised her fist up in the air, a little hop from her feet.

Tifa looked at her blankly for one moment before a big grin spread out that made Aerith smile big too in mirrored reaction. "Oh, man, would I? Of course I'll show you a few things to do. I mean you got to learn the basics, like how you stand and how to use your arms. Oh, and I'll show you how to stretch before doing any routine and how to build up your stamina just like how my master taught me and..."

Needless to say, Aerith got to have the most female bonding moments to last another lifetime.

Each moment of stretching, of running round the campsite to build stamina, and of maintaining Horse Stance ("you really feel it here and under here!"), Tifa related more of Master Zangan's teachings, and of how Tifa had made her own modifications for some of them.

"It is the mind and the body aligned with the energy within you and with the energy outside. The wind, the earth, the water and the air. Metal also emits their own energies, but to feel all that is to empty the mind. Breathing is also important. Fighting and breathing go hand in hand. The very word "chi" means "breath", and that is the natural force that guides the world and our bodies."

Aerith wondered if this Zangan knew the ways of the earth, the way Tifa talked about the form. If she were to meet him, would he help to articulate the voices she heard and the whispers that sound so dark and familiar?

When she closed her eyes, as when she and Tifa were meditating, she doesn't see the clear green light she thought she could see that is the root of the planet. When breathed, she heard her own heart and Tifa's words through her mind. The words of her mother were replaced by Tifa's soft, husky voice telling her how to breathe and how to know your own self.

*

The more she talked with Tifa, the more she thought herself lucky and envious. It was easy to navigate the lifelines of Midgar via the Mako pipes and the rumor mill that carried information through the throngs of people above and below. It was always a maze for her to try go through and not reach a deadend because then it meant going back to the vaguely remembered steel walls and white lab coats that threatened what she knew very clearly: Mother Elmyra and her handmade quilts and clothes, tired but knowing smiles from her neighbors that are Elmyra's friends and therefore her friends because she got that green touch that they used to remember before the land depleted in nutrients. When she worked on the garden, she thought it was fairies that spoke to her although she had always known better.

Tifa passed down knowledge from people before her, and she doesn't have to feel like she was being watched constantly. She doesn't hear the voices of the dead, but late at night in a bedroll Tifa would toss and turn and whisper conversations with the dead, and it would hurt because the following morning she'd roll out groggy and pensive but then feel that determined strength set upon her face like a flower facing the sun.

"...You okay?" asked Aerith. Tifa closed her eyes, collecting herself or feeling the moment of her breath going in and out. Then she would say, "I can be okay. I have my moments, but I'll be okay. I'll just wait and see."

When she had closed her eyes, Aerith had thought how dark her eyelashes were, and that with dark eyebrows she looked like that profile of a Wutai statue of a lady monk, both weary wise and tranquil, and she thought how lovely Tifa's lips were when she contemplated the answer: cupid bow shape and pink from a good face scrubbing, and just a little bit of a smile that was natural like Tifa had already made her peace with something inside herself.

*

The best person is like water. Water is good; it benefits all things and does not compete with them. It dwells in lowly places that all disdain. This is the reason it is closest to the Way.

Master Zangan told her that. Be like water. Move like water. Just as the chi can come from the wind gives life to us, that we ourselves hold inner fires therein, we should aspire to be like the element of water. To wear down the most stubborn of mountains, and to nourish the smallest of life beyond that of humans and animals and plants. It is essential but it is also the most lowly. That's what makes it better than all the gunsmoke and lightning flashes and even the magic that one can cast. All are so temporary in the face of how ubiquitous and versatile water can be.

Tifa knew that firsthand, and sometimes she took in lessons like a fool by living it firsthand. When the fires of revenge sputtered and were doused, it was the inner feeling of rampaging waters that carried her forward. Even still waters can drown. Guilt and sorrow weighed her down, either from tepid rain or from how heavy waterskins were when she was still recovering. In her dreams she couldn't breathe, so heavy the fog and how humid the slums could be below plate. Moisture leaked everywhere, and with it mold in the most insidious of cracks. Weeds prospered if there were no grass, and its roots reached deep down in the cracked earth so parched and malnourished.

She wished for a bit of green. There were no farm houses nearby in the heather fields where any one mountaineer can rest weary eyes on when the sight of the purple Nibel mounts became too twisted to watch. She even though Mako itself was like water, green and pulsating this lifeblood of the planet. But not thick or unctuous like oils can be. It almost looked like air the way it coiled around when unrefined. They say that if you breathe in it, you fill your head with the lost souls that gave their last breath. An old wives' tale, but one that was given justification what with all the warning signs and the instruction manuals that the plant workers were given of the dangers of Mako.

If Tifa were to fall in the Lifestream, would she have the voices of Biggs and Wedge and Jessie in her mind? Would she see her father and mother, one she felt she failed and the other she felt she lost and can't find? Sometimes she wanted to ask Aerith, "oh Aerith, tell me that my parents can still speak? Tell me Jessie's regrets so that I may carry them for her and know her. Tell me that Biggs and Wedge were really scared because they tried to hide it for a long time that it can't be good for them."

But if she asked that, then she wouldn't be any better than the scientists who wanted to ask her where the Promised Land was, and Aerith admitted she doesn't think that existed. She wanted assurance that they weren't just rubbed out of existence like a mistake in the writing. That she could protect themselves from feeling alone if no one would ever be alone in death and beyond.

But the two of them, they're as in the dark as water was.

*

"How handy are you with that staff?" asked Tifa.

Aerith gave a little twirl, a bit awkward but it went through her fingers with ease. "Pretty good if I just wanted to discourage something smaller than me from getting closer. A good bonk is all you need sometimes. But it's more like I use it to channel spells from the earth. I bet you could do better with it, though."

"Hmm, Zangan didn't teach me much about using a quarter staff or anything like that. He said that he's more of a master with hand-to-hand things, but if I wanted to learn more, he could refer me a temple in Wutai. That's where he grew up in, you know. But Wutai is so close to Nibelheim, really, so I could have gone."

Aerith gave a nod, contemplating. How easy it was for Tifa to talk about her life. She thought how interesting it was that the rest hadn't, really. Neither Red XIII nor Barret nor even Cloud, her other presumed hometowner, would talk much about their life. Not since Kalm. And not after they left Costa del Sol. It helps to piggyback off of Tifa's own reminiscence. It helps to lift the cobwebs of the future.

Tifa looked around the plains and at the edge of the forests nearby. "Do you want to practice? I know at least some basic strikes with a staff, so you can get the most out of your swing. Maybe some monsters that are easy to beat off would do it."

"All right! Look out, critters! I'll show you the results of my training!"

"Wow, you're getting into the spirit!"

"But that's how you talk sometimes, too."

"...Really?"

Tifa wasn't spared a moment of self-conscious contemplation. For no soon had Aerith made it for the brush, using her staff to guide her forward to feel out the terrain and for future quarry, when a troupe of frogs with an ill-look in their eyes came bounding outwards with wands came out. She saw Aerith pause and a delighted remark, "Oh that's really cute~"

Tifa hurried to Aerith's side before any further damage could ensue. "Wait Aerith, not these ones!"

It was too late, for a single whack from one devious amphibian did Aerith wobble. She turned around to face Tifa's direction, and saw with nearly dazed and spinning eyes, the look of someone bewitched. A triumphant grin spread upon her eyes, and Aerith shouted, "Aha! Tifa, let's practice on this one!" She pointed right at Tifa herself when the declaration was made, and the brawler stopped in her tracks.

She held out her arms, denying the charge. "Wait stop!"

*

A basin of boiled water, some clean washclothes, and first aid kit out in the open was all they needed.

"Ow. Ow."

"Turn your head away; you're saying it in my ear."

"You're pinching my skin, Tifa! The splinters are right there."

"And my head's still ringing when you shoved your staff at my ear. Should get my head examined in the next village or something."

"Yeah, well, good thing I'm not so much of a staff expert now, all things considered."

Once Tifa had managed to rouse Aerith from a confused state- and being propelled into a serious of other ailments that the unforgiving frogs have decided to beguile them into harm- they've routed them all with extreme prejudice. When they reached the campsite where Barret was minding whilst Cloud and Red searched for firewood, they gave a reproachful look at his unrestrained laugh at their expense.

Some soap on a wet washcloth, and Tifa washed away the dirt and grime from Aerith's hands and face. She could feel her palm and fingers through the cloth as she wiped across her cheeks and forehead. She thought for a moment that Tifa lingered a bit longer when she held her face. A flush of heat went up to her cheeks which she passed off as being from the water, but that soon faded when Tifa roughly wiped across her mouth.

"Mmm! Hey! I'm not some kid, you know!"

The brawler gave her a keen look, smirking and with a quirked eyebrow. "Could have surprised me, the way you look so happy when you're about to wail on me."

"Well, I can take care of myself perfectly fine, thanks mom."

"Oh yeah? So fine that you went facing off some wizard frogs without so much as a single echo herb on you or a sense materia?"

"Yes! Well... I admit I've never really uh... that's my first time seeing a frog, you know."

"Yeah?" said Tifa, wringing out the washcloth over the basin.

Aerith nodded. "There's a lot of things I've never seen. I've never even left the city before. Never thought there'd be things like how bright the stars look or how there'd be so much grass and trees in one place. Or pollen, hmmm."

Tifa laughed, and it was a beautiful laugh. "I probably miss pollen the least. But the stars don't get as bright in Midgar. But they're at their brightest at Nibelheim." Tifa stared at her hands, traces of smile still there but still. With her left hand, she picked at some scabs next to her fingernails and some small splinters embedded in her palm.

"Are you worried?" asked Tifa.

"You're not?"

"I'm very worried. So much so that sometimes I wish I could just find some place to live in instead and try to recover as much as I can in somewhere comfortable." The say she sighed out those words, they wearied Aerith as well. "But even more so because I don't really know what's the real story anymore. I just to grab Cloud and Barret and you and Nanaki all together and put us in a safe place so that we can rest and find out things before trying them out."

Tifa looked up and hard look left her breathless. "But I can't. So I'll just have to protect you and everyone here until we find out the truth. Real truth. Not just what Barret or Shinra or Cloud thinks it is, but I'll see it all. And then..." She looked back down, her hair hanging over her eyes and obscuring cheek and mouth, "...I'll try to get stronger to prepare for it."

Aerith lunged forward. She wrapped her arms around Tifa; the other girl never saw it coming. She nearly toppled over from her seat, almost disoriented by the mass of brown curls and corduroy red collar and the sudden feeling of green healing magic permeated through the embrace.

"I got you, Tifa, don't worry about it," said Aerith, all muffled voice in Tifa's hair and her neck and shoulder. "I don't want to just keep moving from place to place, running away or hiding or putting down everything like they don't mean anything. Let's see more stars and people and pollen, and that's gonna happen tomorrow and the next day and forever."

It was hard to say who started it first. Maybe it was Tifa, gave a tearful embrace back, kisses to cheek and holding Aerith's head by wrapping her arm all around. Then Aerith would turn her head to plant a kiss on her lips, and it's one of those kisses she heard can be shared between friends in books, but it's a long kiss now who's to say why it's any less fluid or as deep as water can be.

Wearing a heart on their sleeve.

There's a chemical reaction when strong drinks and explosions go together.

You're more than welcome--- I am still blown away by "Once Young and Blessed With Wings," after all! And incoherent YUP is absolutely fine--- I'm honestly just happy to know you've read! (I will try to get to your prompts this week, too--- am a little with the am-not-brain myself and also being attacked by FFXII plotbunnies at a rate sufficient to constitute an infestation, lol.)

Oh, this is so sweetly sad! I love the idea of Lakshmi giving Relm the power to save Strago.

Gah, I love how dark and creepy this is, and the wrenching inevitability of it. "Do not change," ow heart ow.

Ahhhh, this is pretty much everything I want out of post-canon Terra/Celes--the bittersweetness, the support, the understanding. I love the description of the post-game world as a new one they've found, too.

Heart is in little pieces now. ;_; Really love what this does with the game's ending.

He had not dreamed ere now of having her so bound; and, having her bound, he realizes that this is not what he had truly dreamed.

Not in several senses; certainly, he had never dreamed of seeing her with her face pale and sad and tearstained, her beautiful blue eyes looking up at him sadly.

He cannot bear the misery in her expression, and though he knows it is folly, knows he only courts a more dreadful rejection, he cannot bear bending to kiss the tears away, to brush the salt tracks with his lips and stroke away the evidence of her misery---

And, beyond his dreams, she does not turn her head from him, nor curse his name; instead she sighs sadly, sadly--- and leans into the touch. "Kain," she murmurs sadly, and, "You are as much a prisoner as I, aren't you," almost meditatively.

He wants to bridle at it, but then he thinks she is not wrong, for all that it is not Golbez alone to whom he is bound.

No; it is his love and longing for Rosa that holds him here, far more than Golbez's compulsions; and--- having her so bound--- he can at last admit to himself, shameful and unmanly though it is, what he had truly dreamed.

It is not to have Rosa bound; no---

It is to be bound to her, himself, and in being bound by her to know that she desires him.

But that, of course, is too much ever to hope for, and so he will content himself with this, and take what he can have.

Thanks! I was wondering why he wouldn't react to any of his friends but would to her, and this seemed as good an explanation as any. :)

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Page 20 of 23

2014 Final Fantasy Kiss Battle

Re: "Backfire": FFIV [any]: Rydia/Edge, PG-13 for consent-related issues

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

Re: BLITZKISS! "In This Humor Won", FFXII (OG): Vayne/Ashe, PG

"Wings of a Soldier's Soul" FFVII Crisis Core: Zack/Feathers + Cloud, Rated T

Re: Ruffles and Feathers; FFV; Butz/Faris; PG

Re: FFVI, "Gift," Relm + Lakshmi (worksafe)

Re: Wings (FFI; Sara, Bahamut; G)

"Excuse Me, Princess", Locke/Celes, G

"To Have and to Hold", FFVIII: Cid/Edea, G

Re: "Excuse Me, Princess", Locke/Celes, G

Re: FFVI, "Gift," Relm + Lakshmi (worksafe)

Re: "Excuse Me, Princess", Locke/Celes, G

"Summoned", FFX/Frozen, Shiva/Elsa, G

"Torn Down", Gestahl/Madeline, NC17

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

Re: FFVII (OGC): Tifa/Aerith

Tifa/Lightning

FFVII OGC: Tifa/Jessie

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

Re: FFVI, "Gift," Relm + Lakshmi (worksafe)

Re: What Was Lost (FFVI, Celes/Kefka, PG, warning for needles and mental illness)

Re: "The Wind Blows Wild," FFVI, Terra/Celes, G

Re: "The Tie That Binds" FFT: Ramza & Alma, G

"Bound":FFIV OGC: Kain/Rosa, PG-13 for dubcon and bondage

Re: FFVI, "Gift," Relm + Lakshmi (worksafe)