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Title: The sky, and other far away things.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Ffamran, Cidolphus
Theme: Parents and surrogates
Rating: G


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 Title: The first sour taste
foreshadowing, what foreshadowing?
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: The Ronsenburg twins.
Rating: PG
Theme: #88 Food
Words: 200

A/N: I should really put Noah and Basch back in the toybox for the other kiddies to play with. Also, be glad I didn’t put one of the many puns I could have as the title…

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  Title: Undertones
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Noah, Basch
Prompt: Deafness
Rating: PG
Summary: The Ronsenburg twins fight with what they do not say and what they never meant to imply.

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Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Title: Walls behind walls.
Characters/Pairings: Noah, Bash
Theme: 38 – honour
Word Count: 200.
Rating: PG -13

Closeted behind doors on nights when the dead trail their bone hands around him. Basch lie awake and thinks of walls behind walls behind walls.

The first walls are simple brick; Landis’ speciality. These walls have a dark stain seven bricks up, four from the left, where Noah muttered his first words of rebellion – their father broke Noah’s nose against the brick (retribution.)

As children that was the way things wee, but now as a man within children’s walls Basch flexes his fingers and knows this was wrong.

The second set of walls are iron and he is again imprisoned or a crime not his, but still he takes every blow as atonement for failing to protect his liege. As a breaking man this was right, almost just, but as a spectator years later, this was wrong.

The final set of walls are juddering metal, as the Strahl fights free of aerial debris. He is holding his brother’s encased hands and praying as Gabranth’s head thuds against the paltry pillows, silent, stopped.

As a brother finally, completely, alone, he knows this as wrongness. Lying awake, he thinks, as a man searching for redemption in honour, this may have been right.
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Title: Lady Macbeth never wore white gloves either
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Mild implied Larsa/Penelo, Gabranth, Vayne.
Warnings/Content: About 10 years post game.
Summary: Vayne’s madness was in his blood, Larsa seems not to be able to escape it.

Larsa props himself up; Penelo is sleeping like the dead, like the dead man present in their chamber. The fractured armour shows one gunmetal eye and a tussock of yellow hair. Larsa would ask, Gabranth – is that you?

Larsa would, but for the answer the shade has given him several times;
“Nay, milord, I am madness.”

He, it, Larsa cannot define, fades away. Larsa rakes uncertain fingers down his palm. He has not worn his white gloves since they were the last thing Gabranth ever held in his living hand.

Larsa watches Penelo’s back ripple down the hall as she, not quite sedately, follows a page to her destination. His fond smile freezes, as does his skin, when he notices a dark hand at the edge of his sight; crouched like a spider just above his shoulder.

He follows hand to wrist to arm and the flicker of long hair leads him to look at the face. Hazed eyes stare down at him, shrewd, possessing, as they were in life.

Vayne? brother, truly, are you here? Larsa aches to say, needs to say as if it were scripted. But this is no play, and the farce of his brother would reply, if he had asked,

“Nay, Larsa, I am insanity.”

Gabranth (Madness) Vayne (insanity) but for their changing faces they have ever been the blood legacy of house Solidor.
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 Bone words (FFXII, Old Dalan, Urutan-Yensa)
Title: Bone words.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Old Dalan, Urutan-Yensa
Theme: #69 no dialogue
Rating: PG - 13
Summary: A completely insane possible back-story for Old Dalan.
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---
A/N - I know that this is completely non-viable. Really, I do. But I had to write it. Imagine; The Sandsea as a possible variant of the Wood - the Urutan-Yensa hear the Sandsea as Viera do the wood. They also wear masks as do the Garif; Tribal culture differentiated in that the Urutan-Yensa use aggression, ritualistic training of Yensa to prove ability/worthiness? Also use of whistles and/or hums as primary vocal communication, but retaining the ability if not the desire to use words. Add to that a sense of cultural superiority and what do you get? Urutan-Yensa. .... I sound drunk. Sorry for the long and musing and ridiculous A/N everybody
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Title: Spawn
Fandom: FFXII
Characters/Pairings: Ffamran, Cidolphus
Prompt: 68: anarchy
Rating: PG
Summary: Ffamran gives him father one of the best things a child could think to give.


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Title: The best soldier is a living gargoyle.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Vossler, Ashe
Prompt: #70 - Senses
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 100
Summary: Vossler and Ashe meet for the first time, Vossler almost regrets being living stone.


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Title: The base of rebellion.
Fandom: FFXII
Word Count: 200 words
Characters/Pairings: Ashe, Raminas
Prompt: 68: anarchy
Rating: PG -13
Summary: The naming of Ashe.



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Title: A once machination.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Venat, Cid, Balthier.
Prompt: #65 - Useless
Rating: PG
Words: 100


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Title: Dissent in the ranks. And in the air. And in the mess hall.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Balthier, Basch, blink and you miss them Vaan and Penelo.
Prompt: #67-gossip
Rating: PG
Summary: WWII AU, a christening, slightly drunk Balthier and poor, poor Basch.


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Title: Where whoring is the lesser evil.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Fran, Balthier.
Prompt: #67-gossip
Rating: PG-13
Summary: WWII AU, chaining the gossip prompt. This takes place a few minutes prior to This


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On paper only. [FFXII, Noah, Basch]
Title: On paper only.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Basch, Noah
Prompt: #65 - Useless
Rating: PG
Summary: Noah tries to learn fairness – Basch already has it in abandon.

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green_animation: (Default)
So, what do I do when given a load of pretty prompts? MMhmm, I get the idea for a totally different piece. Am working on the prompts, but came up with this first.

Title: The relative amount of the freedom of lust to love.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Vossler, Penelo
Rating: PG-13 for almost sex?

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Title: His eyes may betray his heart , but his heart betrays his country.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Ffamran.
Rating: PG
Summary: One of the first times Ffamran considers leaving the judges.

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Title: Grave dust
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Balthier x Basch. Gabranth and Dr Cid cameos
Prompt: 32: ghosts
Rating: PG-13 for language, mild sexing and disturbing imagery

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Title: Lonely like the sea
Fandom: FFVII
Characters/Pairing: Yuffie, hint of Yuffie/Vincent
Prompt: #02 cherished items
Rating: PG

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Title: No, this is my spiritual plane, thank you.
Fandom: FFVII/ FFX crossover
Characters/Pairings: Yuna, Aeris
Theme: #61: Territory
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG

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Title: Why you cage the monster, and do not kill it.
Fandom: FFVII
Characters/Pairings: Sephiroth, Hojo
Theme: #60 - Switching places
Spoilers: None
Rating: T
Words: 100

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Title: Destroying pieces of him (Cleaning up his messes)
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Rasler, Ashe
Prompt: 23 cleaning up
Rating: PG13 for concept, angst and bad mental places.
A/N: Do not read if you have had a bad pregnancy experience.

Oh God, another drabble... )
green_animation: (Default)

Title: To obtain a pirate, one must go to Balfonheim
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Mjrn, Horne
Prompt: 18:minor characters
Rating: PG

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green_animation: (Default)
Title: On bitterly learning the art of mimicry from your twin.
Fandom: FFXII
Characters: Noah, Basch
Prompt: 60:switching_places
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of violence.
A/N: Noah, on taking his brothers blows for him and not noticing that his brother learnt how to run from him.

Landis is full of cool valleys; the land as unlevelled as its people. Noah remembers being fourteen, running from his brother for the first time.

He remembers gathering with youths; drinking heavy red wine, stolen, of course. It stings at chapped and weather worn lips, but Noah says nothing. To drink is to be adult, and to be adult is paramount to being a God, a mastery of all things – of whips, bleeding.

Gabranth has taken blows for his brother too many times – tells himself he has no remorse for what his brother is bleeding now from taking for him.
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Title: What we are, who we are not
Fandom: FFXII
Pairing: Fran/Balthier
Rating: G
Words: 200
A/N: This is for [livejournal.com profile] fluid_static  , and is the only time I’ve written Bal/Fran, as I'm never sure how to write Fran, and fluff is also harder to write than tragedy, damn it.

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Title: The flex of ghosts (3/?)
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Balthier
Rating: T to be safe.

 Hey all, I know I said I'd get this done in three parts but it now is running away with me, so there could be one or five more parts to come; I'm not sure. Not quite happy with some of the wording, so feel free to pick at at. This is all from me, so story.

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green_animation: (Loveless butterfly)
Fandom: FFXII
Title: Inside the iron of morality
Characters/Pairings: Ffamran, Ffamran’s mother
Theme: Fairytale
Rating/Warnings: Don’t read if you’re claustrophobic
Author's Notes: Part of the Flex timeline, but no prior reading needed.

His mother tells him a fairytale... )
green_animation: (Bsch approves)
Title: The Flex of ghosts (1/3)
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Balthier
Rating: T to be safe.

A small study on Balthier, about running from the strongest of ghosts, about brothers and fathers.


A/N Hey all, another little thing for you all. Not beta'd, due to the fact that I haven't got a beta, but please tell me if you think something's off, and sorry fot the wierd formatting.
.....

Everybody knows that the images that you see in the mist are simply yourself, from a different angle. After all, what or indeed who, else could look so much like you, be wearing your garb and move only when you do?

Everybody knows this, but still many prefer to keep their eyes downcast, on the tangibility of the ground when they walk their path through the Feywood or prowl through the cloying halls of contaminate Nabudis.

Balthier knows why, or he thinks he does. A mark, magnificent in potential, startles and breaks through the carefully machinated formation that Bash, ever the mechanical man, has formulated.

Balthier sprints, full of intent to get it back, that no other may claim what is theirs ( is his, he has to correct himself in his head, annoyed).

The mark, being both larger than he and faster in a wooded place, soon pulls ahead. He follows the sound of scale on bark until even those noses fade to the basic forest static, or as close as is possible in this particular wood.

Balthier is left behind by the creature and, more to his surprise and - should he choose to admit it – growing consternation.

He thought that Fran, in the very least, would have been able to remain at his side. Then again she may have gone to cut the mark off, as it would less likely elude her.

No matter, he thinks. No matter, even as he jumps, startled, by a glimpse of white sleeves in the almost corporeal ether. Balthier mutters Akademy wisdom to himself, knows it less than wisdom now, but for comfort still he says mind over matter, mind over matter.

Balthier will admit that he is a man not meant to be alone.

He will say, freely to any, that a leading man is always in need of an audience. He will admit to cold stone on his forehead, pavement under his knees at the mouth of any ally in Ivalice – he will admit to them when his breath is dank with mhadu that he doesn’t exist without one.

If he is too long alone then every ghost crawls towards him, clinging to his shiny buttons and sulk cuffs with gossamer fingers, begging him to take them to the sky.

Even an hour brings them crawling blindly, and Balthier curses himself for forgetting that they come with a whiplash vengeance, strength in the corner of their mouths and the flex of their fingers in his skin; he curses for forgetting that they are almost real in the Feywood.
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Al-Cid holds little interest in a barbarian queen-to-be. He charms her, as is habit, but he watches her only passively as he takes her hand.

When Al-Cid is seventeen he is magnificent, or so it is said behind silken fans and piping giggles. He is shyer than he will grow to be.

Al-Cid is in love. He speaks to the boy in his orchid, or rather his family’s. Whenever he can escape the politics, youth used as an excuse, he knows there will be an apple and a smile waiting for him.

When Al-Cid is eighteen he rides to the orchid to find his lover. He finds him dancing a gallows jig from a hastily erected frame, born of his absence.

“Sin” is all anyone tells him, he is confused until he sees one of his brothers watching him, silver smile flashing a stark smugness. Al-Cid presses an apple into his lover’s cooling palm, and is gone.

Now Al-Cid is older he hides wandering eyes behind opaque glass, and when he takes the hand of a barbarian queen he kisses it, does not gaze at her lovely bodyguard or firefly pirate. He knows, now, what damage a sinner can do.

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