Cookies for Basch

10 FFXII icons - Basch

2008-07-25T20:14:21Z

45/100 finished.

T E A S E R S

( my icon journal )

cookiesforbasch @ 2008-07-22T22:03:00

2008-07-23T03:08:56Z

22 basch icons
+many others

teasers:

here

Silly Basch video - My Dearest Darling

2008-07-17T02:41:53Z

Hello Basch disciples! As part of andromeda3116's contest on YouTube, I submit for your approval this video celebrating the love Basch has for a certain part of his apparel.

Title: Basch and a Special Someone - My Dearest Darling
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Song: My Dearest Darling - Etta James
Notes: I'm not especially skilled with WMM, but I did try to be funny. I hope you'll enjoy it :)

35 FFXII icons - Basch

2008-07-07T18:39:18Z

Second post for 100variations.

T E A S E R S

( to my icon journal )

credit to gunshou or iconage optional, but nice
comments make me happy
DO NOT HOTLINK
don't claim them as your own work; I don't own these images, and neither do you

Fanfic one-shot: "His Forbidden Queen"

2008-06-27T23:47:22Z

Erm... I hope you don't mind that I brought more stuff today :) I finally uploaded my third fic on fanfiction.net, which is also my first one-shot :D BaschxAshe related :) I decided to drop a link here, to anyone who might be interested in taking a look at this drabble.

Title: "His Forbidden Queen"
Setting: after the reunion with Ondore in Bhujerba.
Characters/pairings: BaschxAshe.
Rating: M for the implication.
Beta-ed by: Landis Icelilly to who I owe a big Thank You :)

Summary: In the aftermath of their meeting, he remembers. Though for her, he is willing to forget, but she does not allow him to.

A/N: This is a short drabble written for a Sprink Kinkfest LJ Prompt: “Basch/Ashe: Loyalty – when you finally fly away, I’ll be hoping that I served you well.”

Fanfiction.net link

(Lead or Follow)

FFXII Fanfic: Magical Carnival

2008-06-21T19:36:27Z

I should probably have posted this sooner, but only today I had enough time to update my "fandom" :)

FFXII Magical Carnival

Title: Magical Carnival
Category: Fanfiction
Chapter: Prologue: The Emperor's Excellent Idea
Originally written for: Fanfiction.net (story)
Summary: To celebrate his sixteenth birthday, the Emperor Larsa F. Solidor intends to host a ball in his Estate. However,it will not be another dull ball nor a lifeless evening...
Characters: BaschxAshexBalthier, VaanxPeneloxLarsa, Fran, Zargabaath, Montblanc, Mjrn and other FFXII cast
Timeline: 710 Old Valendian, three years after Ashe's coronation
Rating: T for now
Warning: If you're a BaschxAshe fan, you will love this story :)
A/N: Dedicated to Landis Icelilly, Aorin, Laguna's Twin Sister, Baschashe, Zaz9-Zaa0, sorasheart281, Swamp-Eyes, Sita Silver-Breeze, AikoShinobi, That Belle and Silvara, for being such outstanding ladies ;)

I hope you like it! :)

LiveJournal link
Fanfiction.net link (including 3 more chapters)

Basch's Scar

2008-06-13T12:45:06Z

Hello all,

I was wondering does anyone know how Basch got the scar on his brow and ear?? Did it say in-game?? If it did I don't remember. But it has been 1.5 years since I played.

Any help would be greatly appreiciated!!

Basch and other FFXII icons

2008-06-13T03:17:16Z

I made some Icons today. Some Basch in the bunch. Here is a sample:

The rest can be found here at my journal, Enjoy!!

cookiesforbasch @ 2008-06-10T12:33:00

2008-06-10T11:34:24Z

Title: The Cerobi Secret
Characters/ Pairings: Basch x Ashe & full cast for now
Rating: K+
Length: 2316 words
Notes: Potential spoilers. (Phon Coast part of the game).
Summary: At the Phon Coast Basch and Ashe learn of a legendary hunt. If they suceed in slaying the mark, a rare and ancient life spell from the Gods will be passed on to the slayer. Will the Gods allow them to toy with death?

1. Whisper by the Fireside

cookiesforbasch @ 2008-06-09T22:00:00

2008-06-09T21:00:36Z

Title: Valley Of The Dead: Chapter 5
Characters/ Pairings: Ashe/ Basch
Rating: 12/ K
Length: 1272 words
Notes: Last chapter!
Summary: Raithwall's Tomb part of the game. Basch is hit by the confuse spell and unleashes his deadly anger on the rest of the group. Only one person can bring him out of it. Ashe/ Basch+ full group and Vossler.

Basch ran. The air that whipped the hair from his face was sterile and ancient. It blew away his weariness and gave oxygen to the fire that fuelled his heart and limbs.

FFXII Fic: Boys Will Be Boys

2008-06-09T09:46:45Z

Title: Boys Will Be Boys
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Character(s): Basch, Noah
Rating: G
Summary: Ronsenburg twins have peculiar ways in spending summer
A/N: A fairly old, musty, dusty piece written for sarasa_cat at the wet!naked!Basch challenge sometime ago, the original prmot being: childhood, summertime. Just one of those atypical hot Landis summers with some semi nude Ronsenburg frolicking in blue, clear, transparent waters. Well, sort of?

Boys Will Be Boys

15 FFXII icons - Basch

2008-05-25T18:17:38Z

First post for 100variations.

T E A S E R S

( to my icon journal )

credit to gunshou or iconage optional, but nice
comments make me happy
DO NOT HOTLINK
don't claim them as your own work; I don't own these images, and neither do you

KISSY WISSY BASCH

2008-05-02T19:33:04Z

I draw the strangest things.

Allow me to run for my life before Basch finds me and tears me into pieces with his bare hands.

Preview:

To my DeviantArt page.

"ALL I Ask Of You"

2008-04-16T04:41:29Z

Hello :)

Earisu, a BaschxAshe fangirl signing in! :) This is my first time posting to this community. I'm loving the posts I find here, and then I decided to write some words, and drop a video here ;) About me... I can be found mainly at fanfiction (Earisu), youtube (LadyEarisu) and I recently decided to sign up at LiveJournal to post my BaschxAshe related works :) (mainly fanfics and fanvids, for I can't draw not even to save my life). Feel free to drop me a word :)

Other thing, and I will type this only once... I'm not English born. Therefore, forgive any eventual grammar kicks that will certainly pop up here and there ;)

Without further ado, here it goes:

Pairing: Basch x Ashe
Category: Fanvideo
Song: "All I Ask of You", Andrew Lloyd Webber
Performed by: Cliff Richards and Sarah Brightman

Want to see it? Check it here

:)

FFXII Fiction

2008-04-06T22:33:07Z

Title: Valley Of The Dead: Part 4
Characters/ Pairings: Full Cast. BaschxAshe.
Rating: Generally T-ish
Length: 1636 words
Summary: As Basch suffers from the aftermath of a near-fatal head injury in Raithwall's Tomb, a certain member of the group goes missing.

: click to read

14 FF12 icons

2008-04-03T15:11:26Z

Hello! I have 14 FF12 icons for you ^_^

6 silly Basch
6 Basch/Balthier
1 Gabranth
1 serious Basch (and a bit of Gabranth) (spoiler)

3 previews:

1	2	3

Rest are over here.

Fon Ronsenburg Game

2008-03-30T21:34:14Z

I guess if you like Basch you must like Noah, if only by a little bit.
I sure hope you do because I thought of a little game.

I hope people will join in.

Here's the thing:

I'll start with an action either Basch or Noah could do, the next person reacts to me telling which of the brothers would do it and why, then make a new action:

[Example]

Swim Naked

Answer: Basch, because of the Wet!Naked!Basch prompt.
Next: [fill in action of choice]

Hope you guys will join the game.

The first action is:

Drive a monster truck

Basch fanart

2008-03-24T19:23:43Z

Hi!

I made a fanart of Basch :D. Please take a look at it! ^_^

Title: Basch fon Ronsenburg
Rating: G

Preview:

To my art journal.

Basch in Revenant Wings

2008-03-23T17:30:24Z

Hi, has anyone played Revenant Wings? If so, is Basch playable in that game? Because I don't have a DS and am only thinking of getting it and the game if Basch is really playable. I don't like Vaan, y'see XD.

[art] wet!naked!basch x2

2008-03-20T06:21:43Z

Title: wet!naked!basch: "I am not wearing that."
Rating: G

and

Title: wet!naked!basch: "You caught me at a bad time, stranger."
Rating: err... PG13, not technically worksafe for implication of cowboy!porn

for [the wet!naked!basch meme], second picture also dedicated to sheffiesharpe, not necessarily related.

Teaser pic:

(link to ficjournal)

Baschness <3

2008-03-16T23:06:57Z

60 Final Fantasy XII icons, 8 banners/ headers

H e r e @ tralala_icons

[art] wet!naked!basch

2008-03-15T11:32:23Z

Title: wet!naked!basch
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Character: Basch
Rating: PG13 (no frontal)
A/N: For the [wet!naked!basch meme].

Teaser:

(link to ficjournal)

FFXII: Basch, Vossler

2008-03-13T14:00:48Z

Fandom: FFXII
Title: Solitude and Solidarity
Characters: Basch, Vossler, youthful backstory.
Rating: M, maybe.
Other: For bleu_zoo and the prompt "wet!naked!Basch streaking through a city of your choice."

---

The best thing about running is the solitude.

It’s one of the few exercises that you undertake on your own. You can greet your comrades as you pass them on the city’s walls or keep silent as you will, using your breath and its lack as reason for restraint. Solitude is something you crave; your life is full of shouting, noise, fuss; of your drill sergeant, your comrades, the city’s whores, the city’s bazaars, the sandstorms that slam the shutters on the barracks, the snores, the conversation, the midnight murmurs, the sounds that follow the clandestine bedswapping of those of your comrades made too lonely by hardship or rendered too cold by chill desert nights.

In running you can ease the muscular pain of endless sword drills; you can stop your mind from thinking, winding its way in circles that have no purpose. In running you can set a goal, a target; you can best yourself or best others as you will, and while sometimes a diplomatic failure endears you, a foreigner, to these your comrades, more often the urge takes you to prove yourself better if not best; competition was something you imbibed with your mother’s milk and your brother’s blood, and in it you prove yourself unchanged by time, hardship or your new citizenship. In running, you can close your eyes to everything but the cobbles that lie directly ahead of your feet, and while perhaps more sand gathers in the corners and cracks between, the cobbles here are much the same as the cobbles in any street, even those that exist only in your memory.

Yes, you think, as your bare feet slap on stone; the best thing about running is the solitude, but as the sun’s slow dawning prickles on skin otherwise never touched by the sun, you cannot help but think that Vossler fucking Azelas and his sadistic bent will deprive you of that enjoyment, just as he, soon to be your Captain, has deprived you of your clothes.

Dawn sees the opening of the bazaar, and as you flit through as swift as your muscles will bear, you see the astonished glances of Hume and Seeq and Bangaa alike. The burn of the sun matches the burn of embarrassment, and you must throw yourself into a wild leap as an unwary Bangaa abandons his cart; must hurl yourself over in a move half jump and half somersault and all accidental, because to stop would be to be caught, and to be caught would be, well, humiliating. When Vossler claimed your clothes he made clear the terms of success and the penalty for failure.

Your passage upsets the Bangaa’s cart; with a sound that shatters the morning calm, his stock of swords and spears hits the cobbles, and you’re unsure what is the louder, the echo of metal-on-metal-on-stone or the Bangaa’s infuriated shout. You grin and risk a glance over your shoulder – “sorry,” you shout, less apologetic than self-conscious, but he is far behind you now – and you espy your predatory pursuit.

You risk your lead with a hard veer to the right through an alley you discovered only last week; behind you comes the sound of Vossler’s – and yours, you suppose – company hitting the spill of weaponry, upset cart, enraged Bangaa, and you use their distraction to throw yourself up on a column; here at least the bareness of your feet assist as you climb the slick stone to stand, flat against the wall, on a shadowed ledge.

Belatedly you realise that you may have an unsuspecting audience. Directly across from the ledge a window has been cut into what appears to be an apartment, and through that window you identify a child of indeterminate sex, its mother and a particularly well-muscled husband partaking of their breakfast. A coil of irony tickles your dry throat with the urge to laugh, and you think that never before had they reason to be grateful for their alleyway view.

Below you, you hear the jingle of mail and the rhythm of feet, and you hold your heaving chest tight. They are gone quickly; Vossler trains his men well at expediency but they are, perhaps, not the most imaginative of soldiers, but when that flaw lies in your favour you cannot fault him, for once.

Undiscovered by breakfasting family or diligent troops, you lower yourself from the ledge and prepare to slink in the most discreet manner to the assembly point but as you peer around the alleyway corner there comes a sound, that while modest, still pinches your starved lungs with an indeterminate fear.

This sound, a dry sound or a wet you cannot decide, but it is fleshy for all of that, and both expected and dreaded; you turn so swiftly that your hair lags behind to tangle across your eyes, and there, behind you he stands, soon-to-be-Captain fucking Azelas himself flanked by no fewer than four of his company, each wielding a flat, broad paddle.

And yet as Vossler quirks an eyebrow, you cannot help but leer, and when Vossler lifts the paddle from where it rests across his shoulder and slaps it across his palm – there, again, that sound – you almost laugh, and a strange euphoria bubbles in you, fuelled by adrenaline, embarrassment, wildness, all in equal measure.

“Didn’t I tell you to run, Landis?”

At Vossler’s words you do laugh, and even in your breathlessness you cannot help but shout at him, “Fuck you, Dalmasca!” and his grin is that of a wolf, all tooth and alpha confidence; your return grin is the grimace of a saurian, all edge and point and hunger, and you turn in three parts; head, shoulders, feet, and you run, run, run into morning, the marketplace, and a full compliment of schoolgirls.

The shrieks that rise behind you are all girlish indignation well-spiced with delight. You twist to wave briefly, because if they don’t place you as a candidate for the Order by your fast-paced nudity, they would know you by the banner of your hair; if not by your hair they know you by Vossler’s pursuit, and Rabanastre’s citizens all know Vossler. As though you had conspired with them prior the schoolgirls close in tight clusters around Vossler and his company, impeding, and taking full advantage to inveigle fingers across the bare arms of the much-admired and much-muscled Order of Knights. You wave again, somewhat jaunty, and this time at Vossler’s scowl, which is the last thing you see as you turn out of the bazaar and dedicate yourself to reaching your goal.

The streets are filling now, with heat as well as people, and while stares, curses, and occasionally rousing cheers follow in your wake, it takes somewhat longer for the company to do so. Deprived of your intent to sneak, unexposed, to the target, you set yourself to running through the growing crowds without shame, for this is Rabanastre, this is Dalmasca, and if you have prior kept yourself covered out of respect for your lost homeland’s customs, here even the King’s wife bares her belly, be it flat or swollen with child. You have a small regret that you have not seen fit to weather yourself previously; if your arms and face have long since become accustomed to the sun, its brief kiss already tightens the skin across your back, buttocks and thighs.

You reach Rabanastre’s central plaza without time to spare, for the other half of Vossler’s company enter across the square and espy you with a shout, waving paddles aloft; your gaze darts with a frantic imprecision, hunting, hunting, a shape imprinted on your mind by Vossler’s instruction but absent from anywhere that you can find, and as you sprint in a tight circle around the fountain you have to dodge as the company closes about you, wooden weaponry swinging without the amelioration of good intentions. You seek, desperate now, and doubt fills you; surely Vossler would not have lied to you, he always plays fair even in a game such as this, and you have come to rely on his sense of fairness much as you rely on gravity, dawn, and the frequency of sandstorms. No, Vossler would not have lied, which means you are seeking that most familiar of shapes in the wrong place, or in the wrong form, and you most open your eyes again –

- And there, there, you see it at last! In the fountain about which you circle as though its water could wound you, the Sword of the Order has been planted at the apex, the hard light of Dalmasca’s sun fragmenting along the edge of it, the reflection shattering and scattering across the play of water, and you hesitate no longer; into the fountain you leap, wild, uncontrolled, desperate for air as well as respite. The chill hits you unexpectedly, on sunheated skin and overheated metabolism the water is enough to make you shout as you climb, your voice expressing your full thoughts on the ridiculousness of the matter even as your body obeys, fingers claiming a bloodied purchase on the stone veiled by water’s flow, your toes scrabbling, ever muscle striving for height, for length.

A glance below reveals a paddle – several paddles – ready to swing on your vulnerable behind and your sudden surge upwards surprises even you, who thought your strength and muscles taxed to their limit, and before you even realise it the Sword of the Order is in your hand, the leather haft wet, and your buttocks guaranteed their safety.

You leap from the fountain, half a fall and half a magicked float fuelled by the exultation of your efforts; you land still in the fountain’s circle and let yourself fall into a crouch, your knees flexing, the muscle of your thighs burning, and the resulting splash scatters far. You rise, slowly, the sun in your eyes and the Sword in your hand, and face the circle of your comrades, your company – your brothers now.

Vossler steps forward, the angle of his shoulders at once angry and proud, the paddle held out in a salute as grave as if the implement were a weapon to be feared, which perhaps, you consider, wry and not-dry as you are, it is.

“You cut it close, Landis,” says Vossler, “I nearly had you bent over my knee there.”

“I’m not that easy,” you respond, and cannot resist provocation even now, especially now, with you the only one in the whole circle of them holding honest steel. “A bottle of wine, some chocolates, a bunch of flowers; then we’ll see.”

And Vossler holds out his hand and you take it, your wet fingers curling on the sun-warmed leather of his wristguard, and you step from the fountain, onto the cobbles of Rabanastre’s central court.

“Welcome to Dalmasca,” Vossler says, “Basch.”

The Order’s youthful company steps forward, and each carries, has carried through the course of the chase, garb for you, padded undergarments, pieces of plate, of armour, a swordbelt and scabbard, laces, greaves; where they have not carried a spare they bedeck you in their own garb, until your form is clad, hot and heavy under the sun, your hair tangled and wet about your collar. You wipe your new sword dry on your arm and sheathe the blade, and inwardly you remind yourself to tend to the metal as soon as you are able lest the wet harm it or rot the leather of its sheath.

Vossler waits until you salute, at the ready, and he steps forward. His hand rakes across the back of your neck, his gloved hand rough, forceful; he gathers the wet tangle of your hair and pulls it free from your collar; lets it drape outside your armour.

“My first order,” he says, his lip lifting in an unconventional smile, “is that you cut all that off. Whatever Landisser custom had you keep it, I will not allow such vanity under my command.” With a full-blown smile now, and other smiles that you see in your periphery on the faces of those of your brothers who linger now the chase is up, Vossler continues: “Apart from the wear on the shower drains, you already take the longest of us all to dress yourself in the morning.”

At your incredulous stare, Vossler admits: “Perhaps not this morning, at least.”

You shoulder past him, a smile on your lips, the adrenaline leaving you easy, relaxed, and he takes a half step back as your arm strikes his.

“But when I am Captain beside you,” you say, because challenge is in your blood as much as your youth, it's in your bile, your sweat and your wet and your tears, “I will let it grow as long as I like.”

Vossler grunts, shoulders you back so hard you stagger, and leads you away for a quick breakfast and your first formal duties; you think that this is the reason for which you have continued to fight, for which you have endeavored, attempted, tried, and won; for the right to call such as he your brother.

---

FFXII: Basch, Vossler

2008-03-11T23:55:08Z

Fandom: FFXII
Title: Don’t Ask
Characters: Basch, Vossler, new recruit.
Rating: M
Other: Drabble-length ficbit for wet!naked!Basch and ‘things Vossler knows’ prompt.

---

The new recruit hadn’t mastered his blush.

Basch’s hand stalled, the towel left wanting. He pursed his lips, effecting serious contemplation. Only the humidity of the bathhouse kept the youth from shivering.

Basch studied the presentation. From a distance. Basch knew the attraction a Knight’s garb held for the city’s whores, but gods…

“I’m at a loss.” Basch’s lips quirked, staggering from the edge of a smirk. “Vossler will know.”

“Know what?” Vossler said, turned, and “--hell’s balls--“

Basch choked.

“--see a healer, boy. Soon.”

The boy wrapped his towel about his waist, shamefaced.

Basch made a note to get the linen burned.

---

(…and an accidental part two after someone really wanted to know why Vossler's the resident expert on STDs)

---

"Seeq fleas," Vossler stated.

Basch slowly pulled the towel from his head. His hair stuck up in unusual directions.

"Did you just say Seeq...fleas?"

"The boy's got a nasty allergy."

Basch waited for a moment, but nothing else was forthcoming.

"How do you --?"

"Don't ask," Vossler said. Grunted. "Just, don't. It was the worst snow in a decade, Mount Bur Omisace, close quarters, just--"

"--I won't," Basch interrupted. "See me here? I'm very definitely not asking. Towelling myself dry. Definitely not asking."

"Good," Vossler said. "Because I'm not telling. Not another word. Nothing about the chocob--"

"Not asking," Basch said. "Leaving."

"You forgot your towel," Vossler called after him.

---

141 Final Fantasy Icons

2008-03-11T20:19:07Z

139 icons, 5 banner/headers
::125 ff12 icons (Spoilers) 50 Basch/ featuring Basch
::7 ff13 (mostly Versus)
::7 ff7AC

H E R E @ tralala_icons