#thesuccessorchallenge

[skribleskrable]

My submission for @thesuccessorchallenge ! I went with the the theme Time. I was going to go for the theme Four and draw all four sorceresses in an Alfons Mucha-ish style, but ironically, I don’t think I’ll have time for it :p

[thesuccessorchallenge]

Happy Birthday Rinoa! Er, happy start to the TSC extended succession challenge for this year!

We'll be taking submissions for our extended round via our Google Form! Rules are pretty standard for this so you know the drill. ;) Our extended Round themes are: Endings, Before, Idle, Space, Eight, Fade, Close & Dreams. All Final Fantasy VIII fans — both experienced and new — are invited to participate in The Successor Challenge -extended- round. This challenge is open to any character(s) you wish to write about, draw or create fan mixes for.

The challenge’s general requirements are as follows:

1. Entries have to be posted and completed between March 3rd to July 31st. Any submissions after 11:59 EST on July 31st will not be accepted.

2. Submissions have to be made specifically for the challenge. No reused or re-purposed pieces will be allowed.

3. Any fanfiction pieces submitted cannot rely on any knowledge other than the game canon so they can be readily accessible to everyone. They must be standalone pieces - no sequels to existing works will be allowed. No crossovers either.

4. The sole thematic requirement for fanfic submissions is that the theme word is included somewhere in the body of said submission. Other mediums are not subject to this requirement but it is encouraged to be depicted some manner.

5. There are no restrictions on fic length or genre. One-shots and poems are welcome. Multi-chaptered fics must be completed before the end of August or else they will be removed from listings.

6. All works posted on other sites must mention that the submission is for the Successor Challenge.

7. If you would like your works to be included in the challenge, please use the Google form.

8. As the challenge is here to celebrate the game and the relationships within, please refrain from character bashing and keep OCs to perfunctory roles only. They should be either minor characters to support the main cast or serve as antagonists - no Main Character x OC pairings, please.

[fifteenleads]

AO3 | FFNet

A long-distance call certainly isn’t the way Laguna had wanted to bond with his son after more than two years of no contact whatsoever. He certainly gets way, way more than he had expected, though, and he is more than happy and relieved after it all.

Written for @thesuccessorchallenge​ 2020. (Theme: Distance.)

[cyanoscarlet]

the tempest (squall leonhart) ►LISTEN

Final Fantasy VIII. Squall Leonhart, Time Compression/Evolution. Compiled by cyanoscarlet.

For @thesuccessorchallenge​, 2020 edition. (Theme: Spark/Change)

Track list:

1. The National - Day I Die 2. Imagine Dragons - Burn Out 3. HYDE - THE CAPE OF STORMS 4. Saosin - You’re Not Alone 5. ONE OK ROCK - Wasted Nights

[thesuccessorchallenge]

Whoops posted to the wrong account.

Friendly Reminder

The 31st is one week away from today so if your entry is not completed by 11:59 PM EST, it will be removed from the listings.

Also I am at a con starting on the 31st so if you send a link in before the deadline and I get to it later, don’t worry it will still count.

Happy crunch week! :)

[runicmagitek]

Someone hug me - my fic for @thesuccessorchallenge is terrifying me both in its content and that it’s probably going to be 30k when I finish it

[summonerluna]

ATTENTION SUCCESSOR CHALLENGE PARTICIPANTS!

First off--welcome to the last day of the challenge! I swear August goes by faster and faster every year. Has it really already been 31 days? 

Second--even though it’s late in the game, if you haven’t joined our facebook page yet, go do so, because we have a poll up right now regarding WIPs that have not been completed yet. 

If you don’t have facebook/don’t want to join the group, if you could just send a message to myself, @emeraldlatias, or @thesuccessorchallenge, and let us know the status of your WIP and whether or not you think you will be able to submit it by midnight EST tonight or not, that would be awesome! 

[skribleskrable]

So for my submission for @thesuccessorchallenge I was just going to make something quick and easy, like some old photos, but that soon turned into a big comic project. With lots of help from @lunamanar and @xrebelxheartx editing my akward writing and giving me helpful suggestions it turned into something pretty good I think! So big thanks to both of them, you both were a lot of fun to work with.

The *somnia joke was inspired by this post by @burningartwork Go and check it out, it’s super cute!

Oh wait! There’s more! Secret ending under the cut >: )

[thesuccessorchallenge]

“Ok, this is the showdown folks! Time compression is about to begin. 'Love, friendship, and courage'! Show'em what you got!”

While what Laguna says here in the above quote was indeed important for the Orphanage Gang and Rinoa to come back from Time Compression, there is a very important element missing from his speech.

Hope.

This much is true when despite all of these things being said by Laguna, hope is what reunites Squall and Rinoa together when he loses his way. Time and time again, hope is what allowed them to save each other, over and over to make the impossible possible.

We wanted to acknowledge that while there are some miles still left to go and some flower fields to cross, we wanted a theme word that would reflect something positive to frame this year’s challenge.

So on that note, we’ve decided to make Hope the newest theme for the seventh annual Successor Challenge.

Following the tradition of the last few years, we’re allowing the use of any past themes the challenge has had – After, Change, Time, Four, Spark & Distance.

So without further adieu, all Final Fantasy VIII fans — both experienced and new — are invited to participate in The Successor Challenge in August 2021. This challenge is open to any character(s) you wish to write about, draw or create fan mixes for.

New to this Year

In case you're interested, we have created a discord for the challenge! Tumblr and FB will still be used for posting purposes but this is more for the community side of things.

All submissions will be done through our google form this year as opposed to Tumblr to make things more accessible to those without Tumblr accounts.

Challenge Requirements

1. Entries have to be posted and completed in August 2021. Any submissions after 11:59 EST on August 31st will not be accepted.

2. Submissions have to be made specifically for the challenge. No reused or repurposed pieces will be allowed.

3. Any fanfiction pieces submitted cannot rely on any knowledge other than the game canon so they can be readily accessible to everyone. They must be standalone pieces - no sequels to existing works will be allowed.

4. As we have multiple themes this year, the sole thematic requirement for fanfic submissions is that the theme word you’ve selected is included somewhere in the body of said submission and you let us know which one(s) you picked. Other mediums are not subject to this requirement but it is encouraged to be incorporated in some manner.

5. There are no restrictions on fic length or genre. One-shots and poems are welcome. Multi-chaptered fics must be completed before the end of August or else they will be removed from listings.

6. All works posted on other sites must mention that the submission is for the Successor Challenge.

7. If you would like your works to be included in the challenge, please use our google form. The form will be enabled on August 1st, 12:00 AM EST. Please note we are no longer accepting submissions via Tumblr for intake purposes.

8. As the challenge is here to celebrate the game and the relationships within, please refrain from character bashing and keep OCs to perfunctory roles only. They should be either minor characters to support the main cast or serve as antagonists - no Main Character x OC pairings, please.

If you have any questions about the guidelines outlined above, please do not hesitate to send a question! :)

[fifteenleads]

an accident of luck

Written for @thesuccessorchallenge 2020. (Theme: Spark).

AO3 | FFNet

.

Once upon a time, there was a princess asleep in a tower in outer space, waiting for her prince to come rescue her and wake her with true love’s kiss.

This isn’t that story.

Squall regards the latest entry in the literary section with much distaste. It is one thing to be subjected to such saccharine drivel once every week; it is another thing to have to beta-read such saccharine drivel before its publication, then still have to be subjected to it anyway over morning coffee that same week.

He really should have accepted the scholarship Garden had offered to him back then— he would have been an elite rank SeeD by now, going on missions around the world, maybe actually even saving said “princesses asleep in outer space towers,” if he were luckier.

Scratch that; it is Zell who cares more about these things; he has always been the more romantic between the two of them, by far. Squall would describe himself more as pragmatic, if anything, as long as it puts food on the table and pays the bills. He didn’t summarily reject life as a rich bachelor for nothing, after all— he wanted to prove himself, and his father was only too happy to let him when he had asked. “Expand your horizontals, my dear son,” were Laguna’s exact parting words to him the day he moved out and never looked back.

For the dear life of him, Squall could never fathom how on earth his father had managed to become CEO of Galbadia’s largest multimedia outlet with questionable command of language and grammar, but he set that aside in favor of a wordless, tacit understanding and gratitude that he is, at least, a proper parent in most other aspects, all things considered. Life as a single parent is hard, and Squall did his part to help make life easier for the three of them. Once Ellone got married, however, those nagging thoughts of gaining some measure of independence for himself reared its ugly head, and he finally decided to act on them.

And look how that has gone now, he bites back a grumble as he finishes his breakfast and returns the magazine to the top of the pile. Next week’s issue is due today, and he wishes he had added that double shot of espresso to his tray when it had been offered to him.

In his utter confusion on his way out, Squall does not notice where he is going and literally crashes into someone else, spilling their hot coffee all over the front of his shirt. Double espresso, he immediately recognizes the taste as he licks what had splashed onto his lips— not at all how he wanted to get his caffeine on a stressful morning, really.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” comes the hurried apology, as the lady brings out a handkerchief and some wet wipes in an attempt to at least blot out the coffee stains. It makes Squall pale in mild embarrassment, both for the ruckus they have caused and for having caused said ruckus in the first place— a “double yikes,” as Laguna would have called it.

“I-It’s fine,” he momentarily stumbles on his words, because for some reason, the space between him and the lady has all but disappeared, and the distance between their foreheads as she looks up into his eyes has his heart skip several beats and his breath hitch for longer than he is comfortable with. A light, floral scent permeates from her clothes, which, along with the strong scent of roasted coffee, unexpectedly assaults his nose all at once, and he suddenly sneezes with all the force of an enraged Marlboro charging in for the kill.

Luckily, Squall had the presence of mind to turn his head aside before that happened; years of having allergic rhinitis had trained him well for these moments. The mild embarrassment he had at the beginning increases by tenfold, and he is sure that the pallor on his face has already morphed into a deep flush by now. The lady quickly clambers off him, looking aside, too, just as awkwardly, clutching her stained handkerchief close to her chest. A few people have already started to gather in the hallway, albeit maintaining a respectful distance from them both.

“Sorry,” he mumbles weakly as he takes the lady by her wrist and quickly leads her away from the onlookers, potential gossip be damned. Not how he wanted his morning to go at all, but he’ll deal with the consequences later. For now, a trip to the washroom is in order— separately, of course.

-

“I know that was only an accident and all, Leonhart, but this will be hard to explain to HR when they come breathing down our necks in the next audit,” Quistis admonishes him, rubbing her temples in a circular motion; she tends to get migraines when she is stressed— and for her, that would be all the time. She never addresses him by his surname, still, despite that. For her to do so now means either she is thoroughly done with the incessant calls inquiring about the incident, or he has messed up big time— and for Squall, both mean the same thing.

“They probably won’t, Quis,” the lady reassures with a teasing but flippant tone; she hasn’t stopped sniffing at her coffee-stained clothes in the laundry bag, of which Squall is holding an identical one right now. They have been given a couple hours leave on the clock to deposit the items at the laundromat across the street, just to get things over with. Benevolent bosses are always a blessing in every single job and field of work.

Quistis sighs at the probably-unwanted nickname. “Look, Ri- Juliet, you’ve barely started working here. You have no idea how fast HR updates itself on the rumor mills, especially in the News Department and in ours,” she explains, giving Juliet a pointed look as she does. Squall could only fathom the depth of the undue stress the morning’s incident has brought Quistis now, and she doesn’t deign to hide it behind her shiny spectacles, either.

Juliet only shrugs her shoulders in response as she rises from the couch. “Nah, they won’t,” she repeats herself, this time with more confidence, as if she already knows all of this like the back of her hand. “It’s an accident, like you said; they’ll probably send a written inquiry, at most, and the Good Sir Leonhart and I need only submit our written responses in, like, twenty-four hours. An easy thing for writers, really. Right, Good Sir Leonhart?” She nudges his side with an elbow, as if prompting for moral support.

Too close, again, Squall thinks, resisting the temptation to facepalm, like he is wont to do in ridiculously awkward situations like this. A “Whatever” does slip out, though, before he could stop himself. It makes Juliet groan indignantly in response, and she strongly pinches the outer edge of his arm, eliciting a surprised yelp from him as he yanks his hand away and takes a couple of steps back. “What the hell?”

Juliet merely sticks her tongue out at him, pulling at her lower eyelid with a thin finger as she does, like an overgrown child bullying at the playground. “That’s what you get for being a big, fat meanie, Good Sir Leonhart,” she crows triumphantly, and Quistis only buries her head in her hands at her desk in sheer frustration. This incident is what HR should send a written inquiry for, Squall thinks to himself wryly as Juliet stalks off with her laundry bag, but not before turning back at the door and sticking her tongue out at him again, this time with a blowing sound. He does a facepalm for real this time, tiredly taking Juliet’s place on the couch before Quistis’ desk.

“Quite a handful, isn’t she,” she observes with a smile, making Squall raise an eyebrow in inquiry. Decidedly in a slightly better mood than earlier, Quistis nods at him, beckoning him to come closer. She slides a thin folder to him across the desk— probably the next article to look over for the day. Next week’s issue is due today, after all.

What greets him instead is a CV and portfolio of one Juliette Heartilly, new writer for the Creative Department of their small publishing company, and apparently, his new partner.

“I meant to send for you this morning, but the CEO suddenly called all the department heads for an emergency meeting earlier,” Quistis explains in that same level tone of hers— that is, when she is about to deliver bad news, which for Squall, is most of the time lately. “You will be editing for Juliette, too, starting the issue after next week. As you can see, she has her quirks, but I imagine you won’t have a problem working together, seeing as you both have excellent work ethic and the output to show for it. Do you have any questions so far?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.” To hell with brain-to-mouth filters for today; he hasn’t had his morning coffee, and is therefore not awake enough to play nice yet. Luckily, Quistis understands that part of him very well, over the ten months now he has been working with her. She cradles her chin in both her laced fingers and smiles, as if prompting him to speak now or forever hold his peace. It is a smile that has unnerved many of the Department’s employees when they are at the receiving end of it, and as ashamed Squall is to admit it, he, too, finds it uncomfortable.

“I’ll send an email to you when I think of one,” he decides on saying instead. He needs a few hours to himself to process this weird turn of events first before he ends up doing anything stupid again, like spilling someone else’s coffee all over his shirt— something that, speaking of which, he has to replace sooner than later. He makes a mental note to pass by the fancy café two blocks over after depositing his clothes at the laundromat.

Mind made up for now, Squall nods at Quistis for additional measure, taking the folder with him. Her smile changes to one of warm approval, and she courteously dismisses him with a wave and an encouraging “good luck, Squall”. She does not say “with her”, but Squall hears it anyway as he takes his leave from the office, feeling his steps grow heavier yet lighter by the second. It was definitely a nonsensical way of putting it, but it is how he feels at the moment, and he won’t deny it for now.

He hopes nothing else will happen anymore; he’s had more than enough excitement for one day, and he still has next week’s issue to look at later this morning. Maybe he’ll get himself that double espresso on his café run, too, while he’s at it.

-

It turns out Squall needn’t have bothered with deciding what pastry goes well with brewed coffee on a chilly morning. He watches quietly from his place in the line, two customers back, as Juliette points excitedly at a pistachio muffin and another item he couldn’t identify except for the generous cheese on top. It feels as if fate is playing a ridiculous trick on him for some reason, having them both run into each other for the third consecutive time that day, now, and at very close intervals, too. It hasn’t even been half the day yet, and he is already decidedly exhausted.

“That will be one hundred gil, ma’am,” the cashier rings up the total amount, and Juliette happily slides over a silver-plated card on the counter. Squall lets his mind drift off again as he waits for the transaction to be finished, secretly relieved that he need only buy the coffee now. There are only so many things he knows about fancy food, despite having been raised in a relatively fancier household than most others. Their family did appreciate simple music and art, though, spending time every week in their small studio as Mom played (and bungled) piano pieces by their collective favorite singer, Julia.

Now, where has he heard that name before, Squall wonders for a moment.

His thoughts are promptly cut off by a small incident at the counter area. “W-What do you mean my card’s been declined?” Juliette stammers, her entire face pale as she picks back up the card, hand trembling ever-so-slightly. “I haven’t even reached half of my credit limit for this month yet,” she defends herself, her last few words ending with a raised intonation, as if she were asking a question instead. The cashier looks at her with genuine sympathy, but says what he has to, anyway: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’ve already tried swiping your card twice on both portable terminals; your card really has been blocked for some reason. Would you like to pay for your order in cash instead?”

“A-Ah, right.” Juliette fumbles at her wallet, nervously counting the remaining bills and coins one by one on the counter top. The small ruckus has the people behind Squall tapping impatiently, with one grandma even mumbling something about “stupid, spendthrift young’uns spending beyond their means” in a decidedly snide tone Squall didn’t care for at all, both because of its ill timing and its utter insensitivity. Juliette may have struck him as weirdly eccentric in more ways than one, but she is definitely not stupid, and certainly does not deserve such comments thrown at her.

So he decides to take matters into his own hands, swiftly cutting to the front of the line and sliding his own card onto the counter before Juliette could finish counting her money. A cursory glance at the small pile reveals that she is still around twenty gil short, despite how bulky her wallet had seemed to be at the start. The cashier, wearing a face that is between startled and starstruck, lets her eyes frantically wander around as she fumbles around for the right words, but Squall gives her a pointed look before she could even so much as open her mouth. “I’ll pay. Add two double espressos to-go, as well. Make it quick.”

The manager, having heard the small ruckus from the inside office, quickly steps in for his terrified employee, and wordlessly rings up the orders in an instant. “Go prepare their food,” he calmly instructs, and this brings her back down from her jumpy episode. She then proceeds to the back and helps wrap up the pastries while the barista there prepared the coffee. The transaction goes smoothly this time, and Squall quietly takes Juliette with him to the waiting area, just like that.

“... You didn’t have to do that, Good Sir Leonhart,” Juliette says in a small voice, twiddling her thumbs in a restless manner. Her hunched form and bowed head lets her hide her eyes behind her loose hair, and for once, she is very different from the playful and confident woman that she was back in Quistis’ office. “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets,” Laguna had quoted an old movie to him a few years back, in one of the rare moments he has gotten his metaphors right, for once. It makes Squall smile a little, to this day— a good thing Juliette doesn’t see it, lest she starts teasing him again sooner than later.

It’s funny how, in a mere couple of hours, he has already managed to witness different facets that made up Juliette Heartilly— kind, assertive, coy, sensitive. Suddenly, the thought of working with her becomes a lot more bearable, now— interesting, even. He smirks at the feeling, just a little, this time lightly nudging Juliette with his elbow. “It’s for the coffee I spilled earlier,” he explains without looking, noting how she shyly raises her head at him from the corner of his eye. “Also, welcome to the team, Heartilly.”

He is definitely not blushing as he said that. The cold air merely prickles at his face during this time of the year, and he need only take antihistamines for it tonight— another mental note, he reminds himself as he tries not to sneeze like that again.

Juliette seems to sense his bashfulness, though, returning to her usual annoying self as she returns the light elbow nudge with playful jabs of her own. “Awww! And the Good Sir Leonhart’s idea of a warm welcome is to take their newbies on coffee dates? I like that.” Her smile is decidedly a wicked one, and it takes all of Squall’s concentrated effort to not facepalm and/or snark back— whichever comes first— like he is wont to do when he is irritated.

He settles for a professional smile instead, like a team leader imparting wisdom to errant members so they don’t get funny ideas. “I don’t, actually, but today is an exception. I expect you to work hard. Do you understand, Heartilly?”

Just then, the barista rings the bell, calling for “customers Romeo and Juliet” with a nervous stutter. This elicits a wave of quiet laughter from among the dine-in patrons, and Squall, realizing that the hapless worker was referring to them, instantly freezes in place, while Juliette leaps off the high stool and approaches the counter with a light spring in her step. “Coming!”

Squall doesn’t remember how long he remained that way, but the next thing he knows, Juliette is already tugging at the sleeve of his long shirt, carrying their food in a paper bag. “All done! Let’s go back now?”

“R-Right,” he nods in agreement, taking the carrier for the drinks from Juliette’s other hand and heading for the door. Juliette follows him excitedly, good mood fully restored for now. The walk back to the office is quiet amidst the bustle of activity around them, and the festive mood makes Juliette softly hum a tune— one of Julia’s songs, he recognizes.

“By the way, Good Sir Leonhart,” Juliette stops as they reach their office building, “I never got to learn your name.” The sudden question also stops Squall in his tracks, and he looks back at her from the door, studying the quizzical look on her face. She raises an eyebrow at him, prompting an answer. “I can’t keep on calling you Romeo forever, you know.”

“Indeed,” Squall agrees, lest the joint nickname sticks with everyone else and they become the newest comedy duo HR will come breathing down their necks on in next month’s audit. Also a fair enough question, given their new working relationship, really. The initial embarrassment is always only temporary, after all. “My name is Squall. Don’t get any funny ideas, Heartilly.”

“Oooh, a storm. I like that,” she quickly dodges that trap, joining him on the top of the steps and ringing the doorbell for them both. “Also, call me Juliette. Or Juliet. Whatever.” She punctuates this with a coy smile of her own, and Squall almost snorts at how fast it took for her to imitate his favorite expression, down to the bored intonation. She is definitely playing with him now, and he feels that he will fall into this trap sooner than later— but not right now.

“Juliette, then,” he ends the topic with a tone of finality, allowing no more room for further discussion. The door opens for them, and they nod at the receptionist in thanks as they head inside. “Next week’s issue is due today,” Squall instructs as they head up the spiral stairs. “We typically stay past five, but we try to wrap up before it gets too dark. Will that be okay with you?”

“Not a problem,” Juliette says with an excited squeak in her voice, the old steps creaking as she quickly runs up ahead of him. “Come on, Squall! Race you to the office?” She does not give him a chance to reply as she darts off with the food, like an overgrown child cheating at the playground. He only shakes his head as he ascends the steps only a little faster. “I’m carrying drinks, you know.” Not that Juliette would even hear it, given how far ahead she has already gotten, but it just has to be said.

Once upon a time, there was supposed to be a princess asleep in a tower in outer space, but by the time the prince arrived to rescue her and give her true love’s kiss, she was long gone, having escaped on her own and returned back to earth, just like that.

Squall only smiles in amusement at that. Maybe this is the unlikely spark he has been looking for in this life he has chosen for himself, and it’s not a bad thing— not bad, at all.

[cyanoscarlet]

be the queen. (quistis trepe) ►LISTEN

Final Fantasy VIII. Quistis Trepe. Compiled by cyanoscarlet.

For @thesuccessorchallenge​, 2020 edition. (Theme: Spark)

.

Track list:

1. Train - Meet Virginia

Well, she wants to be the queen, and then she thinks about her scene. Well, she wants to live her life, then she thinks about her life— pulls her hair back as she screams, “I don't really wanna be the queen!”

2. Ben&Ben - Doors

I won't ever know what's on your mind if you'll always be hidin' behind words you never mean just to be kind— will there ever be no more of your secret doors?

3. Florence + the Machine - Too Much is Never Enough

'Cause I'm retreating in covers and closing the curtains, one thing's for certain, oh— a year like this passes so strangely somewhere between sorrow and bliss

4. Amber Run - 5AM

And you don't know what you've got until it's gone, and you don't know who to love until you're lost. And you don't know how to feel until the moment's passed— I wish you'd live like you're made of glass.

5. Zayde Wølf - Born Ready (Reimagined)

Start me up Open my eyes Turn me loose and you'll see why I was born, born ready

Staring at the pressure now I won't quit, not backing down I was born, born ready

[emeraldlatias]

Friendly Reminder

The 31st is one week away from today so if your entry is not completed by 11:59 PM EST, it will be removed from the listings.

Also I am at a con starting on the 31st so if you send a link in before the deadline and I get to it later, don't worry it will still count.

Happy crunch week! :)

[summonerluna]

I wrote Zell fic! For The Successor challenge. Since the theme is “what comes after,” this explores Zell coming home to Balamb. I posted the first part yesterday, and am working on the second and final part. 

[redfoxline]

The Successor Challenge 2016~Next life begins at 20

So finally come my humble contribution to The Successor Challenge. It seriously needs to be re-read and beta-ed, because this is the first time I’m trying to write in English.

It was fun to do though and I was so happy to write again, even if it is a small piece! The beautiful novelization of FFVIII by sombra112 on ao3 was great inspiration and got me back into a FFVIII writing mood! =D

I will correct mistakes I can find whenever.

When the door of the dormitory slides open, all Rinoa can think about is to let herself fall onto the nearest mattress, and sleep.

Luckily, she was able to rest a little on the infirmary floor earlier, using Angelo’s belly as a pillow. She knew she had barely made it: without Zell’s speed to warn the others abut her, and Squall’s rescue, she would been smashed by that missile from the G-army spider tank. Or her arm ripped off from the rest of her body.  She doesn’t want to think about it right now. All the bravado she had felt during their battles has drained off. The kind nurse may had tended her wounds -only scratches, really- but her knees had begun to shake so bad that she had to sit it out before making her way to the dormitories.

Angelo suddenly gives her a push with its head, efficiently bringing her back from her daydreaming. Quistis smiles at her, obviously she is not upset Rinoa didn’t listen to her, and repeats:

“They already took my room to place the injured” she repeats. Her red training outfit is now grey from dirt, and she looks as exhausted as Rinoa feels. “So I will not be able to propose you to share. I am however sure we can find someone that can welcome you into their den for the night. It will be easier to find a guest bedroom for you once everything is calmed down, but with everything that happened today, we have a lot of wounded cadets that cannot be spend the night in the infirmary.”

“It’s fine” the young rebel hears herself replying. “After D-District and this, I could sleep everywhere.”

She is so far from the picky girl she was in the Forest Owl, refusing to give up on the comfort of a fully furnished bedroom, a bathroom and three meals a day. She was limping from a side, her ankle certainly bruised from her spectacular fall, and she could taste the smell of powder clinging onto her clothes.

She didn’t even cared that she hadn’t showered in three days.

Quistis let out a small laugh.

“Me as well.We definitely deserve a good night sleep.” Now that they have worked together to get out of the prison, the former instructor seemed much more fond of her. “The third room on the right is mine: take a shower and use my towel. There should be a fitness outfit on a chair that you can borrow for the night. I will try to find if someone has some space for an extra mattress in their bedroom. See you in five!”.

She was gone before Rinoa could thank her. Knowing that the injured cadets would be brought in Quistis’ bedroom shortly, she quickly used the shower and changed into the promised cleaned outfit. The beauty of the modern equipment was lost to her, as she was too tired to care about anything else but her coming rest.

She cared, however, when she was brought to Squall’s bedroom.

Apparently it was the only place that wasn’t full yet, an with the whole Norg vs Cid fight, the rules could be damned, they mixed genders in the rooms for the night. She supposes Seeds are used to this kind of emergency measures, because no one bats an eye when she enters the forbidden den of the Lion.

Only to find it has already been invaded: Selphie is happily humming while brushing her hair, cross-legged the first mattress on the floor. Another one is spread on her right, with Squall sit on it, back leaned onto the wall and eyes closed. Rinoa blushes hard when she notices Selphie is only wearing a yellow t-shirt with a bright-pink pantie. There is a boy in the room for Hyne’s sake! Even if it’s Squall, the one who is less likely to check out girls, it’s still a matter of common decency. Or so she thinks.

“Hi Rinny!” Selphie beams, but even her smile seems to lack its usual glow. “Congratulations: you got the best roommates ever! Oooh, and you brought Angelo!”

Rinoa sees Squall’s eyes snapping open and darting towards Angelo, who is hiding behind her legs and starts growling out at the mercenary. Why the two of them can not get along, is a mystery to her. Angelo is usually sweet towards anyone as long as they don’t threaten her, and Squall is very laid back as far as animals are concerned -Selphie even told her Squall gave a treat to a street dog during their field exam. They started on the wrong foot, or should she say the wrong paw?

“The dog stays out.”

“What?” “Please let him stay!” both girls cries and Squall obviously winces from the force of it.

“It’s against regulation to keep pets inside the dormitories.”

“Technically Angelo is not a Seed’s pet, but out client’s” Selphie is fast to retort. “He is not concerned by the rules. Besides he will probably wines to be let in if he stays at the door, and the room next to us is full of injured cadets.”

That is enough to win the argument. Squall sighed and grumbles something that sounds like a “whatever” before tucking himself under the cover and putting an arm above his eyes.

“Take the bed. “The petite martial artist gently nudges. “Our host needs his beauty sleep, and us too.”

Rinoa hesitates for a bit. Not because she is ashamed to take someone else’s bed -she is too tired to care- but because she knows Angelo is likely to follow her in, as he is used to sleep at her feet. But the dog apparently senses his mistress’s uncertainty and find a place on the floor, at the two soldiers’ feet. She climbs up, the hard mattress as soft as feathers to her hurting limbs, when she feels it.

A hard bulge under the pillow. For a brief instant she is stunned by the shape of it. It can’t be a dildo, can it? Before digging it out to reveal the end of...

...a jumping rope.

A bright orange jumping rope.

The memory of her seventh birthday comes to her mind. Her mother had gifted her with the same toy, only it was a sparkling pink one, to play during recess at school. Her and her friends had used it until the ends came loose. The rope had not been fixed, and then had been forgotten somewhere in her toy box after the general Caraway gave her roller-skates for her following birthday.

“Uh?”

“Oh” pipes Selphie “Squall, why do you hide your jumping rope under your pillow?”

That managed to make Squall slightly lift his arm and give an eyeful to the offending object. He didn’t seem embarrassed by Rinoa’s finding, and was soon to close his eyes again.

“It must have fallen from the cupboard during the attack. I cleaned up before you came in, but I didn’t see it there. Just put it on the nightstands.”

“Ok but...is it rude if I ask why you have a jumping rope?”

If she didn’t fell like an idiot already, the silence that followed her question would have.

From beneath his arm, Squall blinks in honest surprise. He sat up to answer her, mentally waving goodbye to his promised sleep. He didn’t look like he was thinking she was dumb- he never did. His expression didn’t betrayed his impatience. Since their escape, he had tried to teach her more about fighting and monsters, so she would develop her fighting potential. It was a sign of respect, she knew, but not as much as his willingness to answer her questions about Seed, or himself.

“Rope-jumping is extremly efficient for cardio-training.” he explained. “It improved endurance and help muscle development. You might have seen that some athletes also use them: boxers, for instance.”

She is nodding her acceptance of his works, but doesn’t remember a time she saw boxers on TV or in real life. Caraway had gotten her quite locked up in her early teenage years though, so this is not very surprising.

“What did you think it was for, silly?”

She grins back at Selphie, her embarrassment gone.

“Believe it or not, but I used to rope-jumping a lot when I was a kid. I got a rope for one of my birthday, and it was my favorite toy for a time! Mine was neon pink  with glitter though. Not so much for military training.” She slides the rope on the nightstand and herself under the covers. It’s a little bit too tight to her liking but the pillow is so comfortable, she feels like a cat on a fluffy cushion. “If I had new this, I would have picked it back before going to the Forest Owl to train.”

“Oh yeah, I heard it was a pretty common toy for citizens, but I’ve never played with one myself at Trabia. I guess for us we see it more like a tool, it doesn’t come to mind to actually play with it.”

“What did you play with, then?”

The adrenaline from the fight has long worn off, and yet some energy is coming back to the teenagers. At least to Rinoa and Selphie, who are both eager to chichat. Squall doesn’t look much interested by the whole conversation, but he doesn’t put a term to it either, so Rinoa thinks doesn’t mind it.

“We don’t play a lot at Garden.” Selphie’s voice never wavers, but it does sounds off. “Except for Hide-and-Seek or Triple Triad Cards.”

“We had games, but no toys.” Squall chiming in is unexpected on the subject. Rinoa feels the urge to know more.

“Entertainment is not forbidden of course, who can live without it? That’s why we enjoy parties so much! But if it doesn’t have an extra value, like improving a certain skills or making money, it’s not really...the priority.”

The sheeplish smiles Selphie is sending her lets Rinoa know the nunchaky master can already tell how she feels about this situation. Sometimes it is hard to remember the teenager underneath but tonight, her arms around her knees like a child, she never looks this young. What is it, to be raised to be a kill machine, she wonders? Sometimes the members of their little group talk so...mature, that she can only feel disoriented. Where is the fun and the jokes, the immaturity and the dreams, the “maybe later I will” and “when I grow up I will”?

Squall looks unaffected by the heavy air in the atmosphere. He just blinks, before settling himself in a more comfortable position.

“Don’t look so grumpy! You look like Squall!” the host only snorts. “It’s not like we didn’t have any childhood! It just went faster than yours, is all. Besides, even if the rules prevent us to do everything we want today doesn’t mean we will be deprived of choice forever!”

“Deprived of choice?”

“Don’t sass me, mister Grump-pants. If I use clever words tonight, maybe you will smile tomorrow.”

Rinoa laughter is enough to make her auburn friend smile wide, and she notices a almost imperceptible smirks making his way up on Squall’s lips. It reminds her of her childhood slumber party: except for the fact there is a guy, and that no one is offended he is in presence of a girl in her underwear.

“I was almost tempted to do it when I transferred from Trabia” like every time she mentions her hometown, Selphie’s face twitches. “But I thought it would be better to stay inside the faculty for the first year or so. Make new friends, stuff like that. “

When he sees her lost expression, Squall supplies:

“Most of the recruits within Gardens are orphans from the Sorceress War. Because they have to take care of young children and the size of one facility cannot be extended, the Seed above twenty years old have to live outside the garden. It also leaves a possibility for those who didn’t have a choice before to quit the military lifestyle. Some former Seed work as private mercenaries, or open their own business.” His steel blue eyes are looking right through her before he turns to Selphie. “If you had taken your own apartment, you might have missed the Garden taking off”.

You might have been left all alone, is what he means. It seems like a recurrent subject for all mercenaries here. Even for lone wolves like Squall, being left behind by the Garden and separated from the rest of the soldiers seem like the worst outcome. Since her arrival, she keeps noticing how strong the bond within the faculty is. It makes her wonder why Edea wanted to make the place like a big family, if she was so entitled to have it killing her later on.

“Yes! I was lucky to change my mind. But as soon as I am twenty, I’m buying the most fancy oven I can find!”

“Wait, what?”

“I already started saving money for it” Selphie keeps on, her fierce scowl replacing her usual bouncy smile. “And I will make layer cakes with it! They will be big, and I will start on learning cake decoration too. The most you can do in common kitchen is muffins and cookies, and it has to be for a special event or for a cooking course, because otherwise, according to them” she spat” it’s not a necessity to have a skill in bakery. And I want to have real homemade birthday cakes.” she adds after a moment of silence.

Stunned, her friends can only nod.

The curfew rings through the mic of the faculty and the lights automatically shuts down, leaving only a blue halo coming from the emergency lighting to draw their silhouettes in the darkness. They can hear the last shuffling around or students hurrying themselves to their rooms before being caught by an instructor on patrol, the permanent buzzing of the wind turbines of the Garden, and the sounds of waves crashing against the coasts of Fisherman Horizon. They settles themselves in their beds.

It take less than a minute before Rinoa can see in the dark. The emergency lights are made  make it easy to navigate in the facility, and to be able to recognized people as well. Her eyes’ cross Selphie’s. The girls make faces at each other above Squall lying form, and end up giggling like schoolgirls. After such a intense day, it is a good relief to be a little insane.

“And you Squall” Selphie doesn’t bother to whisper despite the curfew. “What are you going to do when you have your own living space?”

“Not buy a dog, that is for sure.”

Angelo growls, as if he understood what the teen had just said, and the girls shared a laugh again. Selphie did not give up though.

“Come on “she nugdes him with her foot while he lets out an exasperate sigh. “You gonna buy a fancy car? Start gardening? Oh no, I knwo, fishing! I heard Balamb is a great fishing place!”

“If I tell you know, will you two leave me alone and finally go to sleep?”

Rinoa nods -can he see her? She is not sure -and Selphie cheers.

“Fine” he concedes in defeat “I will get a King size bed that I will not share, the last TV and home theater system so I can have marathon movie nights. Discussion over, go to sleep.”

After a few attempts by Selphie to bring up new topics (”What is your favorite movie than?” “If you don’t sleep now, I am kicking you out”), silence falls in the room, reminding Rinoa how tired she was before this conversation.

She turns around and in the faded blue halo, the glossy covers of movie boxes on the shelves framing the bed is making her wonder, indeed, what movie he likes the most. Action, she bets, but she could be surprised after all. She can see a few old comedies in black and white she used to watch on Saturday nights with her parents, it was her father’s favorite. It’s difficult imagining the stoic young man laughing watching them...there is also a thriller she never had the chance to watch before leaving Timber, and the last trendy crime series tucked under the recording of the famous poetry play Loveless in Galbadia theater.

They may not have been able to enjoy childhood like they should have, she thinks, but adulthood is for them the promise of happier days. She can’t wait to see it happen. She dreams of king-size layer cakes and movie-marathon Friday nights.

She woke up the next day terribly sore. Her neck cracks, her butt hurts and her tights are screaming for mercy. Selphie is an early bird as well, except she looks like she is ready to take on the world...or burst in laughter?

When she turns towards Squall, the guys is still fast asleep. Kodawaki told them it was his body recovering from what he endured in D-Distric prison, and that he should return back to his normal sleeping pattern soon, but that’s not what makes her muffling her burstling giggles with both hand on her mouth.

Squall is curled up on his mattress, covers high up, leavings his legs uncovered. Angelo has found his way on the his bed during the night and his snuggled against his back, snoring softly against Squall’s hair.

Archenemies indeed.

[thesuccessorchallenge]

The Successor Challenge Submission: Innerbloom

Written by Savae

Synopsis: When love unwinds and everything settles into an unpleasant limbo, what is left?

Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort

Featured Character(s): Squall Leonhart, Rinoa Heartilly, Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas

Current Word Count: 2764

Rating: T

Theme: Idle

Status: Complete

Links:

Chapter 1 (ffnet mirror)

[thesuccessorchallenge]

The Successor Challenge Submission: What is Sung Under the Mountain

Written by Summoner Luna

Synopsis: It starts with a theory, and ends in an obsession. Quistis Trepe, Blue Magic, and searching for the Source.

Genre(s): Horror

Featured Character(s): Quistis Trepe

Current Word Count: 4923

Rating: M

Theme: Fear

Status: Complete

Content Warning: Blood, Gore, violence, and passing mention of self-harm

Links:

Chapter 1