[2008] Secret Santa Submissions Part One
Dec. 25th, 2008 01:22 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
crimsoncookie.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kh_drabbleHappy Christmas, everyone. ♥
Note: almost everyone made it, with the exception of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dreamer1789's gift D: the author will not receive their gift until i receive the drabble - i'll be trying to contact them, but if it is not turned in within three days, they will be banned from the next SS.
To:lorei
From:taistoi
Title: O’er the Ramparts We Watched
Word count: 661
Rating: PG
Notes: This request was too odd NOT to write. I hope you enjoy it,lorei
For the first time, Obama walks into the Oval Office, marveling at the pristine, elegant furniture, and the desk he’s seen so many times in photographs sitting there, waiting for his doodads and supplies to sit on it, and for him to spin the wide leather chair around and sit in it. In some ways, he cannot believe it – he’s finally here, as President Obama. Mr. President. It’s unbelievable.
It’s even more unbelievable when the chair spins around by itself, and a stern-faced man with bright blue eyes and rust-colored hair stands and slowly makes his way over to the newly-inaugurated president. “Mr. Obama, I presume?” the man says softly, his enormous hands smoothing the front of his long black coat. Barack only nods, wondering how the hell this guy got into his office and where the Secret Service is.
“Do not be alarmed,” he continues, speaking like a patient teacher would to a rowdy class. “I mean you no harm.”
“Oh for the love of—“ groans another voice, this one far more casual, and coming from the direction of the ceiling. Obama looks up sharply, and perched on his ceiling is some guy with an eyepatch and a matching black coat. He grins devilishly, the scar marring his cheek making the grin seem far scarier than it was intended to be. “Listen, Barry – hey, we can call you that, right? We’re here to let you know what’s shaking. We’re the Organization, and we wanted to remind you of a little something-something we had going on with the last dude that was in here.”
Obama was probably looking pretty confused at that point, because there were two weird guys in his office making demands barely minutes after his inauguration. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks, frowning at the guy on the ceiling.
“Oh man, where are our manners?” Ceiling guy says, dropping down and looking Obama square in the eye. “Name’s Xigbar. This dude here is Lexaeus.”
“A pleasure,” Lexaeus says, continuing to stare at Obama.
“Bossman WAS gonna send Axel to play scary terrorist again this year, but Rock-head here thought you might appreciate someone with a little more education. So here we are.”
Obama can’t help but frown at this point. "Scary Terrorist" acts meant to intimidate George Bush? Granted, he wasn’t surprised they’d perceived him as smarter than the former president, but. “What do you want?” he snaps, looking for an opening to dodge around them to his desk and page the Secret Service.
“It’s simple,” Xigbar drawls, continuing to babble. “You let us spread heartless here and there – quietly, in places no one knows about. You keep anyone from finding out about it. Its our little secret, you dig? All the other world leaders have deals worked out with us. And as long as you let us do that… we don’t unleash an entire heartless army on your country. America stays, for the most part, safe, happy and the darkness in their hearts festers and remains untouched and off the radars of all the little black monsters that’d want to eat it.” As he speaks, Xigbar gets closer and closer to Obama, finishing his speech by walking his fingers up Obama’s chest and flicking him right where his heart would be.
“We’ll let you think about it, and we’ll come back in a bit to hear your decision.”
“I’ve made it already,” Obama says. “I will never let you blackmail me into allowing American citizens to be harmed.”
Xigbar laughs. “See, Lex? I told you this guy’d be a hoot!” He salutes. “See ya around, Barry,” he says, before vanishing in a cloud of black smoke.
Lexaeus looks far less amused. “Your idealism may end up being your death,” he says sadly. “You should reconsider. All the same – I wish you the best.”
He then vanishes into his own portal, leaving Obama to wonder if there really are little monsters poised to eat America’s blackened heart alive.
To:spoke
From:lorei
title: void
wordcount: 808
rating: r
a/n: spoke - the pairing was pretty tough, i tried combining it with 'manipulation', at least, but i'm not sure how it worked out. but, anyway, merry christmas! i hope you like your gift. ALSO I LOSE AT TITLES.
Demyx was sitting still. He was trying to adapt something he'd heard on radio before he had been Demyx. It was coming along alright, it was Beethoven, he thought vaguely. The fifth, one of the famous ones, because Demyx was no music snob who went about hunting down obscure symphonies and pretending he was better than his peers. He just liked classical music, the same as he liked rap and pop and good ol American rock 'n roll.
He was doing absolutely nothing suspicious and so he was a little confused when Xaldin appeared, looking, to the Nocturne, as though he was trying to be menacing but just looking ridiculous.
Xaldin grinned wolfishly. "Hey, crazy." he said.
Demyx's face did not change. "That's rude, I think. Could you stop?"
"Yeah, you think, crazy," Xaldin put his hand over the top of the sitar, and probably accidentally over Demyx' s fingers, too. It sounded to Demyx as though Xaldin hadn't heard his request. This was just annoying, he thought. Or something. He didn't like it either way. "But what do you know? Am I really being rude?" His fingers tightened; Demyx registered a slight pain, a slight disturbance, like a little bug.
Xaldin was sure he was the only one who saw something interesting beneath Demyx's vague, pleasant, little-boy, music-obsessed facade. Demyx was manipulating all of them, lulling them into believing him the most human of all of them, so it would be easy, one night, to kill them all, if he liked, set fire to the castle or, more likely, drown. He wanted to find out Demyx was really, secretly, some evil thing, living under a thick and ancient mask of normallacy on his own. He wanted to draw that thing out. Not to reassure Demyx that he could be whoever he wanted to be, or some shit. He wanted a hunt.
"Come on, psycho." His dark, purple eyes focused on Demyx's wide bright ones. He leaned close, closer, their foreheads were touching. "You don't like music. You can't like anything now."
"Music's all I like," Demyx murmered, but he stopped forcing his eyes open. If Xaldin already knew he was acting....
"No, it's not. You're not right, boy, I can see that. You're hiding something, but I'll find it." Demyx didn't know why Xaldin wasn't dropping this. He had been nothing before he became Nobody and he was nothing now; it didn't interest him and it shouldn't interest this man, this stupid number III, this hunter that didn't know when to leave his prey alone. But it did interest him, and his fingers were creeping up and over Demyx's arms and over Demyx's neck and, well, that wasn't too bad, he knew sex, he knew it from the old days. But Xaldin was pushing at the sitar. Shoving it into Demyx's stomach, where it hurt and it wasn't just annoying, now. He wanted it to stop and he wanted Xaldin to stop, stop pulling at his hair and his zipper and...
He tilted his head back. He grinned, but not in a sweet or silly way. It was in a way as wolfish as Xaldin's was now, and for the first time, Xaldin believed that IX was being whatever he was. He kissed him, rough and violent and eagerly. This was his prey, his finally-drawn out equal. He believed this and barely noticed that Demyx had disentangled his sitar from them, and put it away gently and lovingly and, put it down away from the annoying wind-wolf-whatever man.
Music was all he liked, and that in only a vague sort of way. As something to pass the time with. He didn't like sex and he didn't like games, or even people, to be honest. Of course there had been those who thought he did, it had happened; people thought they had made a friend, or found a lover, or decided, like Xaldin, Demyx was really some psychotic, some monster. It never did any good to tell them that he wasn't hiding some dark interior, he was the same void through and through. But they never left him alone, even if he asked really politely. It was much more efficient, more practical to let them have their way, at first. He would let Xaldin fuck him, whatever, but then...
Well, he always had to dispose of them quick. Otherwise he wouldn't get to finish whatever song he had been working on. It was too bad the Organization was going to have to bump Vexen up to three, it would make him even smuger in Demy's opinion, but such was life. Or death. Or something.
Xaldin fucked him and Demyx gave back, looking like he was enjoying the violent, fast movements, looking like the monster that Xaldin had wanted him to be, but knowing nothing but the notes of the 5th that lingered in his mind.
To:yo_yo_san
From:spoke
Title: Dead Air
Wordcount: 271
Rating: G
Other: Um. I'm sorry this is not more porny and/or sad? -.-
He had expected an empty courtyard to greet his arrival, granting him a serene space of time to breathe in the darkness of the world and gauge the Beast's temper. Instead the Princess was sitting on the gargoyle-flanked steps, reading as if she hadn't noticed the swirl of darkness marking his arrival. A brief upward flicker of her eyes was the only crack in her mask of indifference.
He smirked in the depths of his hood.
The Beast's despair was heavy in the air tonight, an angry musk that nearly choked the delicate pressed-rose perfume of Belle. No wonder the Princess was here, not quite seeking a confrontation. But she was not the reason he had come.
She stopped him as he walked past with a simple touch on the edge of his cloak. "Why?" she asked, and he looked down into eyes brimming with hurt, and sadness, and ...compassion?
"Why not?" He pulled back his hood just far enough that she could look into his eyes and see the hollow behind them, the void into which all her passion could be poured only to blow away like mist scattering from a waterfall. He didn't bother to stop the low rumble of laughter, either, as she recoiled and stood.
He expected her to back away, and nearly flinched as instead she reached into his hood and brushed his face with a careful hand. "You're still there, somewhere. I can feel you... what's missing?" she asked, and because it seemed a genuine curiousity of the sort that had begun their fall, he answered.
"The heart you could have swayed, Princess."
From:yo_yo_san
To:syvia
Title: Windburn
Wordcount: 300 (^____^) (or 3x100, as you please.)
Rating: ...G? PG? ...something like that.
Notes: :D I hope you like~! I love this particular trio, and was full-delighted to receive your request. Bon appetit~!
This castle reigns over the forest, a dark-fanged fortress full of shadows and unspoken words. Outside, the winds howl, spending their fury against the turrets and gargoyles, and inside the Beast stalks his halls, faithless and wild. He is my project, my target, if you will -- a thing to be transformed, his passion for her turned to mindless, heartless rage.
He thinks of himself as half a man. I will make him one in truth. Tear him into one and the other, heart and body, and then he will know the misery of drawing a breath that tastes of silence.
--
She walks in light. Candles, mostly -- the toy candelabra that serves as maître d' for this house dogs her, hoping she will break curses she is never allowed to understand, seconded by the clock-butler (officious wretch) who hopes that my hold over their Lord will fade, if only she will look kindly upon him, if only her heart would melt.
I see her glow, and almost wish that I had been tasked with breaking her. Her skin would surely taste of cream and honey and library dust, and her tears would be as lovely as the blood-stained fingers of dawn.
--
I draw them together with finely-strung webs, using their weaknesses (his wrath, her fear) as weapons. I set him on edge, honing the fine killing rage to a perfect sheen and sharpness, urging him to greater extremes of abuse and anger, knowing that her heart, the heart of a Princess, will never turn black with fear. I watch the rose, waiting for each petal to droop and fall, knowing that with each moment that passes his chances for redemption waste away. I stand exultant on the ramparts of this castle, sending storms careening through the halls.
And I am never bored.
From:syvia
To:singwithin
Title: Paving the Road to Somewhere
Word Count: 744
Rating: PG-13
He was safe now at least.
Sleeping in the pod, his friends nearby. Even with broken memories, he was safe now. He'd destroyed Marluxia, saved her. Saved himself and she had promised to fix him. She could fix broken things. She could fix his memories even when she couldn't fix her own to forget what she'd done. When she couldn't forget what she'd done.
She could string memories together that she had unchained... but she couldn't remake the links she'd broken. Links she had shattered.
"Is that guilt?" she asked, staring at the pod. Naminé gazed upon Sora's peaceful face before turning to Axel. "I know I can't help the Replica, not after what I did. But... I wish it weren't true."
He joined her before the mechanical lotus, looked up at the Keyblade Bearer.
"Maybe," he said. "It's been a while for me."
"At least I can help Sora."
He made a humming noise, not agreeing. "Something else you've got to take care of first."
Naminé thought back to the last time she'd seen Axel smiling. Shivered, because she'd wondered, really wondered if he would go through her to kill Marluxia.
She'd known the answer.
He might not have hurt her deliberately, but the threat of her death wouldn't stop him. Lucky for her Marluxia hadn't meant to force that confrontation, only drive Sora at Axel. Or... maybe it hadn't been luck. Axel had known so much about the schemes within Oblivion. More plots and plots within plots than Naminé had imagined were taking place.
Axel wasn't smiling now. Maybe that was a good thing.
"Riku isn't strong enough to beat Zexion," Axel murmured. "He'll toss illusions and surround the kid in Light. Then Riku will balk at using Darkness to save himself," he folded his arms over his chest and gazed at her, untroubled. "What can you do about that?"
"I-"
"You're so good at lies," and his lips quirked a little but his tone was encouraging. "I'm sure you've got one for Riku."
Yes, yes she was. She had lied to Sora, over and over again, even the truths Naminé had told him were lies; her words in other voices.
"Riku needs to own his power, Naminé," Axel murmured. "Own it before it owns him, or Zexion does."
Naminé nodded. "He needs to face his Darkness." She knew how she could do it. Naminé had borrowed Kairi's role in Sora's memories. She could make a new memory... and borrow Kairi's face. Riku would trust his dear friend before he trusted someone he'd never met. Then Kairi could tell him to use his Darkness, tell him he was strong enough to control it.
Be a lie to tell the truth.
She wasn't trying to hurt him. She was helping.
She'd been helping Roxas as she broke Sora down instead of giving Marluxia a reason to kill him. As she'd stopped the Replica from killing Sora. She'd been helping Sora stay alive when she'd changed his memories. Kept him alive so he could defeat Marluxia.
She kept telling herself that.
"You get him out of Zexion's Light show and I'll take care of the rest."
She flinched, stared because she knew, she knew what that meant.
Axel was looking at her. He slowly and deliberately raised his eyebrows, expression innocent, curious, and a better lie than any she'd ever told.
"D'you think Zexion'll let you stay here with Sora?" The smirk was in his voice- nowhere on his face. Naminé had seen it inside Axel's words as he and Larxene taunted Vexen. "Why don't you ask him?"
Naminé looked away, and said nothing.
"He'll have to get it approved by Xemnas," Axel mused, "But I'm sure the Superior would give up a Keyblade Master, all memory-wiped and ready for mindfucking, to let you keep your promise."
Naminé flinched. She hadn't thought of that. She'd forgotten about Zexion in the wake of Marluxia's absence. She'd thought... she'd forgotten about the rest of the Organization, that things existed beyond Castle Oblivion.
"He's just so understanding that way."
They wouldn't let her. But... Axel would. He was helping Riku, helping her and Sora.
"Why are you-" she got out before he interrupted her.
"Don't worry about it. This is what I do."
That didn't answer her question but at least she knew Axel was on her side, doing what he did.
It was time for her to do what she did.
Naminé extended her power.
:Riku...:
To:fated_bliss
From:singwithin
title: calendar girl
words: 120
rating: g
Blue eyes watch him, slim hands smoothing down her white skirt. Riku hides his eyes under the palm of his hand and turns to look, squinting against the glare of the sun. Way to the Dawn hangs loosely by his side.
"Are you ever going to stop?" she asks, biting her lip.
"Probably not," he says.
"You're still looking for her, right?" she says.
"Don't be ridiculous," Riku snaps.
Kairi smoothes down her skirt again, invisible wrinkles flattened. "I'm sorry I can't bring her back."
"I don't know what you mean," Riku says. If he hides his eyes, then she won't be able to see the lie he's telling. (But Naminé sees, and oh, Riku, you can't keep blaming yourself.)
title: speak softly
words: 638
rating: pg
Aladdin was nowhere to be found. At this point, Jasmine was beyond worried. She was half convinced she would find his mangled body in a corner full of those monsters that creep out of the dark, and half convinced he was never coming back.
She pulled her hood a little further over her face, slowly picking her way through the crowded market. Ahead, a little girl knocked some fruit off a stand, and Jasmine picked it up as it rolled to her feet. As she was about to place it back on the table, a burly hand suddenly grabbed her arm and twisted, hard, before she could even react.
"I do not welcome thieves," the vendor said harshly, holding her down.
"Oh, jeez, sis, I thought I lost you," a suave voice interrupted. Suddenly Jasmine found herself torn away and held by a very different person, robed in black. For a brief moment she almost hoped-- but whoever had just grabbed her was much too bony to be Aladdin.
"So sorry for the inconvenience, she runs off sometimes, doesn't mean any harm, you know?" the stranger continued, pressing her to his side. "She didn't take anything, did she? Never means to."
Jasmine opened her mouth, ready to scream, fight, argue (she is the Princess and not to be manhandled), but the man was carefully adjusting her headscarf over her face, pulling it over her mouth in the process.
"No.." the vendor said slowly.
"Wonderful!" the stranger said brightly, dragging her away. "Thanks so much for your help."
They had walked no more than a few steps when the sound of an explosion echoed from behind them. Jasmine managed to shake off her scarf and the stranger's hand, looking behind him, and saw the vendor's stand go up in a ball of fire.
"Boy, that guy really pissed me off," the strange man said, guiding her into an alleyway. "Hey, princess, isn't it a little dangerous for you to be running around by yourself?"
Jasmine shrugged him off angrily, glaring. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
The stranger looked down at her, green eyes piercing. "Princess, I just saved your skin. Maybe a little gratitude, huh?"
"Did you do that to his stall?" she demanded.
"Yeah, that was me," he said nonchalantly. He reached out and suddenly balanced a single flame in his black gloved hand, throwing it up into the air, and catching it when it landed. It didn't burn him at all.
"Any further questions?" he asked, closing his hand over the fire. When his hand opened, the flame was gone, like magic.
"Why did you help me?" Jasmine asked quietly.
The stranger laughed, but it was utterly mirthless. "Maybe you don't realize it, but you're a little too useful to let die." He leaned in closely, his mouth next to her ear. Involuntarily, she shrank against the wall behind her.
"You'd better stay in your palace, little princess. And don't come out if you can help it, or else the bad guys might just get you after all," the stranger whispered. "Keep that in mind."
His hand brushed past her hair, touching the wall, and suddenly she fell backwards and down, down, down-
Jasmine's eyes flew open, and she sat up abruptly. The darkness was gone. She was on her couch, in her own room, and she could hear Aladdin and Abu playing outside by the fountain, Rajah purring softly on her bed. Her scarf was lying on the floor.
She shivered. Everything was normal, but she felt chilled.
In the alleyway, two Assassins quickly sliced through the last few Shadows that had been tailing the Princess of Heart. They swayed and fell, like quicksilver, and vanished into the market crowd.
"Moving along," Axel said to himself, and he stepped into another portal.
To:tunasaladsonnet
From:fated_bliss
Title: Colour Schema
Word Count: 743
Rating: G
Notes: Merry Christmas,tunasaladsonnet! (: I adore your capslock, and I hope you like this piece.
She's walking when she finds it. Walking, just walking, little white slippers padding mechanically on taintless floors, and the slippery nobodies sliding, undulating, in and out of swashed walls, noiselessly. And she's just walking, putting one foot before another, not looking before her, not looking behind her, hands clasped, stained fingers flicking at each other, engaged in a mini war of their own – the only unstill things in this sanitized wonderland. She wonders if she's tipped the scale – her walking, her fidgeting – but it is all without purpose, so it does not matter – and then her feet catch on something. An incongruity. How rare, this tiny, thick lump under her sole. Almost painful.
Namine shifts. Bends. She picks it up, rolls it about within her fingers. She counts every rounded, resolute edge as the thing turns over in her palm. Her gaze roves over every little puncture in red. One to six. She closes her fist.
Back in her room she sprawls on her front and the object slides from her restless hands. Four. Its minute clatter scares her, almost. But she lifts it up, lets it fall, again. Six. And then she lets herself smile. There's a memory in her mind – three children in a hut, the rain whipping outside, a torn-in-places snakes-and-ladders sheet splayed across the damp floor, and…
Yes. Dice.
And like a child grubbing for cracked shells on the beach she shifts her weight from one elbow to another, pushing her hair back at intervals, knees knocking against the chilly floor, crayon in one hand, dice in the other, paper spread out below her like a world…
Three.
She fills the palm tree leaves in with violent red.
One.
The sand with blue.
Five.
The sky in wide, swirling purple.
Six.
His hair in scratchy pink.
Five again. Then two. Three. Two again. Six. Six. One. Four. Five...
The crayons lose themselves in vivid smatterings across the paper. And Namine is lost, hopelessly lost, in her little game. She doesn't hear the steps of booted feet until they are near, so near – until her paper is whisked out from under her fingers to land lightly in the trespassing gloved hands of another.
"So we've an artist in our midst..."
Namine makes a sweep for her picture on tip-toes but he holds it easily out of reach. It takes only another moment of hesitation before she bends to pick up the dice from the floor and holds it out to Luxord, imploringly. It's a trade she demands, despite the seeming subservience of her gesture. But the sides of his mouth stretch in an ironic manner at her motion,
"Then you must know what it means to be a small goddess of an even smaller world."
Her outstretched arm falls back against her side curiously.
"What I don't understand, white-noised ingénue, is your persistence in filling out your tiny universe by chance," he continues lightly. "Volatile, uncontrollable, unchecked… the play is irresistible, of course. But your creation is… your own."
And suddenly Namine is unafraid.
"They – and you're one of them – tell me I have a power…" She watches his gaze laugh, unnerved because she's all too used to it by now. And now she has something of his and it's because it's small enough that she has utmost power over it. For a change. "But I don't feel that I do. It's only when I roll a dice and take a chance that things change, and differences happen."
There is a low, deep-throated, almost inaudible chuckle somewhere in the back of Luxord's throat. He spreads the paper before his gaze again with two fingertips. For one moment that surreal island, an inverted world-that-never-was, glares out of the flimsy white medium. Then Luxord rolls it up, holds it out. She takes it cautiously.
"Namine, Namine… you don't seem to realize the full potential in the words you have just said."
"And beautiful things come out of chance." The words come almost unconsciously. Another memory rises in her mind – that of a female visitor who arrives by meteor shower and makes her home in sand.
"Show me what else you've got." Luxord sits, and there's more than indifferent amusement in his golden eyes. She watches the short plummet of black among the white barrenness - incredible protrusion, welcome abomination… It's a gamble she takes when she holds the colours to her heart and nods, unwaveringly, at his "Come, show me."
To:str1
From:tunasaladsonnet
Title: Role Model
Word Count: 718
Rating: PG for some light violence.
Notes: Erm. I hope I didn't screw this up for you. x3
Olette wanted to be a vet.
So she had started volunteering at the Twilight Town Animal Shelter. She was a natural when it came to bandaging wounds and keeping the animals calm. She was getting better at not squirming at the sight of blood, but if there was anything Olette was, it was an average fifteen-year-old girl.
She was a fifteen-year-old girl surprisingly dedicated to what she considered her job, however. Because when turned into the third alleyway home (the sun had set for real by now) the first thing she noticed were the yellow eyes peering at her from behind the garbage can. She smiled to herself, and sat down on her haunches a couple of feet away. “Hey, kitty! Are you lost?” she asked softly.
The eyes shifted in response and Olette pursed her lips, making squeaking sounds. She probably didn’t sound anything like a mouse, but she’d be willing to try anything to draw this little one out. Maybe it was a just a housecat wandering around, but it never hurt to check.
She fell back on her butt when the cat jumped out at her suddenly, its…ears twitching.
Only they weren’t ears. They were…antennae. The whole thing looked like an inky blob with yellow bulbous eyes. (How had she not noticed how round they were before?) It stood up, crouched on its hind legs, its front claws twitching eagerly along with the rest of its body.
“Alright.” Olette chuckled nervously, pushing herself backwards on her hands. “You aren’t lost, I guess.”
The thing leaped and caught the bottom of her pants with its claws before she managed to shake it off and run.
She was running down Market Street, towards the Sandlot, when she heard something clatter across the cobbled street behind her. She threw her hands over her head in case the thing was getting ready to jump at her, and despite the blaring warning signals in her brain, looked back.
Good news: someone had thrown a trashcan at the thing, and it was pinned beneath it.
Bad news: there were more of them.
Worse news: they were all chasing her.
A shriek bubbled in her throat and it almost worked its way out, but she had to concentrate on running for her life instead of adhering to the rules of the horror movie she had suddenly walked into. As she ran into the Sandlot, she was relieved to see the ‘dead end’ rule also didn’t apply.
She stopped in the center of the arena, trying to catch her breath, watching those things come closer. She thought about how she should’ve taken up those Struggle classes with Hayner and Pence. And when she blinked, she realized she was crying because Hayner and Pence. She’d never see them again.
One of the blobs leaped up at her face –
A trashcan lid slammed into the top of its head, and it dropped out the air, where it lay twitching for a few seconds before a boot stomped through its torso. It disintegrated into black mist that blew away on the wind.
Olette looked up into the red eyes of one of the waitresses of Seventh Heaven, the café-bar owned by the strangers with the (presumably) dark and mysterious past. No one in town knew where the owners had come from, and they were tight-lipped about it, despite their friendly service. This was Tifa, if Olette remembered correctly. The woman smiled. “You alright?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She brushed at her eyes, feeling embarrassed as she felt another tear spill over. “Thanks to you.”
Tifa turned, her dolphin-tail swishing as more black things materialized. They had the same twitchy movements as the first, but these looked more humanoid, standing completely upright and wearing silver helmets that gleamed under the starlight.
The waitress rolled her eyes, readjusting the suspenders attached to her skirt and lifting her fists to her face. “Stay close to me, okay? This won’t take long.”
Olette nodded, and watched as the woman leapt into action again. It was when Tifa threw one of the monsters into another one and both exploded into black dust that Olette wished she could do that. She wished she could be brave enough to risk herself for a stranger.
Olette wanted to be like Tifa Lockhart.
To:iki_teru
From:str1
Title: Teamwork
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1074
Notes: I ended up breaking this into separate sketches. XD I hope it turned out all right.
Riku scowled at Sora. “You dragged us all the way out here for a scavenger hunt?”
“Well, I didn’t know about it until King Mickey sent me a message about it, but yeah. Besides, seeing Twilight Town without having to chase after Heartless and Nobodies is pretty cool.”
“And I’ve never been here before,” Kairi said. “This town seems pretty peaceful, and I could use a break from school.”
“But we’re not even on the same team.” Riku turned toward his teammates, standing on the opposite end of the sandlot; one all muscle and no brains, the other all brains and no muscle. “How am I supposed to get along with those guys?”
Sora gave Riku a pat on the back. “Come on. What harm could they be? Everything’ll be just fine.”
Riku groaned. “This is stupid.”
Team 1: The Guys!
“Two questions, lamer. Why am I on your team, and who’s the doofy guy with the spiked hair?”
“The doofy guy is Sora. And I never asked for you to be on my team.”
“What’s a lamer?”
“You and Hayner,” Seifer said. “And since the two of you are lamers, I’ll be leading this team.”
Hayner laughed. “You lead? Do you want us to lose?”
Sora glanced at the list of scavenger hunt items. Something blue, something round, something edible…
“No, I don’t want you weighing my chances of winning down.”
Blue, round, edible…blue, round, edible…
“How do you expect to lead without Fuu taking your notes or Rai…what does Rai do for you anyway?”
Edible, round, blue… round blue, edible…
“He’s more helpful than that flabby dreamer that hangs out with you.”
Edible, blue…round?
Hayner seethed. “When this is over, I’m gonna go grab my struggle bat and—”
“Hey guys,” Sora said. “Check out what I found.”
Seifer and Hayner both stared. The latter pointed at the item in Sora’s hands. “What the heck is that?”
Sora grinned and held up his quarry. “Blueberry donut. Blue, round, and edible. Three scavenger items in one!”
Seifer looked at his copy of the list, then at the donut. “But where…how…”
“There’s a bakery around the corner.”
Hayner and Seifer looked at each other as Seifer adjusted his beanie. “I think I can deal with a lamer as leader.”
“Same here.”
Team 2: The Girls!
Kairi stepped out of the train station restroom out to the concourse and dropped the roll of toilet paper into the bag Olette held. “Honestly, who made this list? Eggs and toilet paper? It’s like something Sora would write.”
Olette shrugged and hefted the bag. “You should have seen the list from last year. None of the guys would agree to wear lipstick.”
“…You are talking about the scavenger hunt, right?”
“It was a photo requirement.”
Kairi pulled the list and a pen out of her pocket and scratched a mark next to ‘Cylinder of Paper’ before reading further down. “You mean like this next thing on the list? ‘Photo: something scary’?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do about that one. I guess we could go take a picture of the old mansion, but…”
“But what?”
Olette looked up and down the concourse. “I don’t see Fuu anywhere. That’s scary enough.”
“Well how far away could she be? She came here with us.”
“Boo.”
Olette jumped and spun around. “Fuu, where have you been?”
“Restroom.”
“Wait, how?” Kairi pointed toward the door. “I was just in there…and why do you have the camera?”
Fuu handed the camera to Olette and stepped back. She lifted the hair covering her left eye.
Olette turned away at the sight. “Fuu, stop doing that!”
Kairi felt vomit churn in her throat. I did not need to know what Xigbar’s other eye looked like. “What was that for?”
Fuu pointed at the camera. “Cheese.”
“Right, something scary. Olette, take the picture so she can cover her eye again, please.”
Olette raised the camera and snapped a quick, sure-to-be-blurry photo. “Gross.”
Team 3: The Other Guys!
Riku sighed. “Rai, I’m gonna ask you this only once. Why did you throw the stuffed kitten toy that took us two hours to find into that tree?”
“I thought it’d come back down, y’know?”
“Actually, cats routinely get stuck in trees, so even if it were a live cat…”
“Pence, that’s not the point. And I refuse to dress in a hula skirt again to get another one.”
“Okay. But how do we get it down? Rai threw it really high up there.”
“Well, Rai threw it up there. He can climb up and get it.”
“But I can’t climb trees, y’know.”
Riku tensed. “I do now.” He picked a small rock off of the ground. “Here’s I’ll knock it down.”
“No, don’t!” Pence grabbed Riku’s arm. “You might damage it.”
“As if throwing it into a tree couldn’t damage it enough already?”
“Look, there’s got to be a better way.”
Riku dropped the rock and groaned. “You wanna climb the tree?”
“Well, I can’t climb trees either.”
I am on Team Useless. “Fine, I’ll climb it.”
Riku hauled himself up the branches of the old tree toward the toy cat. As he grew closer, he heard the sound of buzzing near where the cat had landed. Oh, no, please don’t let it be… He looked up, and saw a hornet’s nest dangling from the branch the toy had caught on. Oh, damn it…
The Epilogue!
“Woo!” Sora tossed the sack containing his share of the prize munnie in the air and caught it.
“I’m glad you won, Sora,” Kairi said. “How did your team finish so fast?”
“I dunno. Hayner and Seifer just let me lead, and I kinda found everything. I don’t know why I needed to wear the hula skirt, though.” He turned to Riku. “Riku, are you sure you’re going to be all right? You don’t need an antidote or a Cure spell or anything? I mean, getting stung on the tongue had to hurt.”
Kairi nodded. “Not to mention coming in last place. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Ah’ll ba faun.”
Sora pocketed his prize. “Really? There’s a first-aid kit on the gummi ship, if—”
“Yath.”
“If you say so. Kairi, how did you like your teammates?”
“Olette’s pretty nice, but Fuu is kinda…weird. What about those boys you were with, Riku?”
Riku sneered, though it just made his swollen face puff up more. “Don ath.”
“Okay, then.”
“Thith wa stufad.”
To:obabscribbler
From:iki_teru
Title: Typical
Word count: 620
Characters: LeonxYuffie
Rating: PG
Some days, and Yuffie would never admit this to his face, but some days Leon was actually right. Of course it was usually about the kind of things she wanted to gleefully disprove him at. Like, for instance, her current predicament.
*roughly half an hour ago*
“Stay home,” he had told her, “take some time to heal. Your body needs to recuperate.”
In typical Yuffie fashion, she had argued. “I’m fine! Come on Squall, you guys need me!” She had tried, vainly, to duck under his arm and shoot for the door.
Leon sighed at her, reining her in easily. “Yuffie, I’m begging you please. For the sake of my fleeting sanity, stay here this time?”
Of course she had no intention of actually doing that, but he didn’t really need to know all the facts. “Fine,” she grumbled, “you win. I’ll stay here.”
He left, with Cloud and Tifa; who offered “it’s not like there’s a shortage of heartless butt to kick, you’ll be out there next time,” as solace.
Yuffie counted to one hundred in her head, very slowly. “Ninety-eight Dalmatian puppies, ninety-nine Dalmatian puppies, one-hundred Dalmatian puppies.” She took an extra moment to stretch any lingering kinks from staring at the ceiling too long. “Well then, I’ve stayed, that should fulfill my promise.” After all, she never said how long she’d stay.
*now*
She sighed, "Best laid plans and all that jazz." somewhere between sneaking out and kicking much heartless tail something had gone wrong. Now she was pinned against a wall, she had no idea where the others were (are they even fighting in this area?); and she was bleeding from several fresh wounds. Her last potion bottle had been crushed when she attempted to use it; and glass stuck uncomfortably in her hand.
The heartless were closing in quickly, and the cavalry had yet to survive. Yuffie sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Not the way I wanted to go," she groused, "shouldn't there be someone here to witness my poignant last words?"
She waited for her life to start flashing before her eyes, or something else equally befitting the moment. "How bout a sudden heavy rain?"
Nothing but advancing shadows.
Until the flash of silver in the distance. "Yuffie!" Leon cut through the horde of heartless quickly, fixing the young girl with a burning look. He was suddenly by her side, scooping her up faster then she could breathe.
Leon pressed a hand against her forehead once they were safely away. He had taken his gloves off and actually pressed his warm hand against her forehead “Are you out of your damn mind? Do you think I talk for the sound of my own voice?“ He growled out, hand glowing a minty green as he cast cure over her.
She couldn't help but grin a little, "You must, it's not because we enjoy hearing you speak."
He didn't rise to the bait. "You could have been killed, how do you think I would have taken losing you?"
Yuffie looked away, a feeling of shame washing over her. "I didn't want to sit back. I wanted to be useful for you Squall."
His lips were upon hers, kissing her softly; a feeling like a warm morning rain washed over Yuffie. "You're always useful Yuffie, you keep me going day after day. I couldn't make it without you, so please try to listen to me a bit more?"
She wrapped slender arms around his neck. "Will you reward me with more kisses if I do?"
He did laugh this time; a loud rumble from deep inside his chest. "If that's what you want. Now let's go home, Aerith can patch you up better than me."
Title: Focus
Word Count: 593
Characters: Aerith (also featuring Leon and Yuffie)
Rating: G
Aerith had tried fighting, in the beginning. There were so few of them and so very many heartless to be dealt with. But she wasn't as strong as Leon, or as fast as Yuffie. She often tired too quickly, becoming more of a hindrance than a help.
She had magic, true, but she was such a terrible aim that once she had accidentally caught Leon with a Fire spell. The only thing she seemed capable of doing safely was Cure. So it came as no real surprise when they finally settled down- if you can call agreeing to watch an empty hotel settled down- that she was ordered to stay in the rooms while they went out and fought.
"And they would go out and risk their lives every day while I sat there listening to the tick of the clock." She agonizes to herself some time later; at home- real home. Hollow Bastion, no, Radiant Garden. The location was different but the jobs remained the same. Only now they didn't fight completely alone, they had Cloud and Tifa and the grid to help back them up. But she couldn't help the sick feeling every time she thought of them out there, and her in the safety of their home.
It was unfair of her, but the three of them had been through so much together; bonded so closely that her heart ached that much more for them. She eyed the staff in the corner, more a decoration than an actual weapon anymore; and for one insane minute she considered taking it back into battle.
"You would just be in the way," she chided herself quietly; turning her back to lean against the counter. Aerith just wished she could do something more, something to feel useful for once.
As if drawn by her negative thoughts; the door suddenly burst open. "Aerith! Quickly I need your help!" Leon called, carrying a half lucid Yuffie in his arms.
Aerith raced to the living room just as Leon was settling Yuffie onto the couch. "What happened?" the brunette woman asked, already charging a Cura.
"She snuck out, got beat up pretty badly. I had healed the very worst of it on the way back; but we got attacked again just inside the town limits." Now Aerith saw Leon was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, she pulled a potion out of one of her dress pockets, tossing it to him effortlessly.
Yuffie coughed under her, cracking open one bleary eye. "See Squally, told ya it'd be fine. I haven't done anything yet that Aerith hasn't been able to fix."
Leon sighed from behind Aerith; a sound cross between extreme annoyance and extreme affection. "That's not the point, she does enough around here without you going out there like a suicide fighter. Let's try to give her a break okay?"
Aerith smiled happily. "Thank you, but I really don't mind; and I don't do all that much around here."
Her charge suddenly sat upright, staring at her intently. "Are you blind or something? We'd be half starved to death without you here to make sure we eat! And you take care of our laundry for us and you patch us up? You're like the ultimate grown up Aerith! We can't do this without you, isn't that right Squall?"
"She's right you know," Leon said with his has it really taken you this long to figure that out smile in place.
Feeling slightly ashamed for her "woe-is-me" moment earlier; Aerith couldn't help but laugh until she cried.
From:dreamer1789
To:kaiyabeck
Note: almost everyone made it, with the exception of
dreamer1789's gift D: the author will not receive their gift until i receive the drabble - i'll be trying to contact them, but if it is not turned in within three days, they will be banned from the next SS.To:
loreiFrom:
taistoiTitle: O’er the Ramparts We Watched
Word count: 661
Rating: PG
Notes: This request was too odd NOT to write. I hope you enjoy it,
loreiFor the first time, Obama walks into the Oval Office, marveling at the pristine, elegant furniture, and the desk he’s seen so many times in photographs sitting there, waiting for his doodads and supplies to sit on it, and for him to spin the wide leather chair around and sit in it. In some ways, he cannot believe it – he’s finally here, as President Obama. Mr. President. It’s unbelievable.
It’s even more unbelievable when the chair spins around by itself, and a stern-faced man with bright blue eyes and rust-colored hair stands and slowly makes his way over to the newly-inaugurated president. “Mr. Obama, I presume?” the man says softly, his enormous hands smoothing the front of his long black coat. Barack only nods, wondering how the hell this guy got into his office and where the Secret Service is.
“Do not be alarmed,” he continues, speaking like a patient teacher would to a rowdy class. “I mean you no harm.”
“Oh for the love of—“ groans another voice, this one far more casual, and coming from the direction of the ceiling. Obama looks up sharply, and perched on his ceiling is some guy with an eyepatch and a matching black coat. He grins devilishly, the scar marring his cheek making the grin seem far scarier than it was intended to be. “Listen, Barry – hey, we can call you that, right? We’re here to let you know what’s shaking. We’re the Organization, and we wanted to remind you of a little something-something we had going on with the last dude that was in here.”
Obama was probably looking pretty confused at that point, because there were two weird guys in his office making demands barely minutes after his inauguration. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks, frowning at the guy on the ceiling.
“Oh man, where are our manners?” Ceiling guy says, dropping down and looking Obama square in the eye. “Name’s Xigbar. This dude here is Lexaeus.”
“A pleasure,” Lexaeus says, continuing to stare at Obama.
“Bossman WAS gonna send Axel to play scary terrorist again this year, but Rock-head here thought you might appreciate someone with a little more education. So here we are.”
Obama can’t help but frown at this point. "Scary Terrorist" acts meant to intimidate George Bush? Granted, he wasn’t surprised they’d perceived him as smarter than the former president, but. “What do you want?” he snaps, looking for an opening to dodge around them to his desk and page the Secret Service.
“It’s simple,” Xigbar drawls, continuing to babble. “You let us spread heartless here and there – quietly, in places no one knows about. You keep anyone from finding out about it. Its our little secret, you dig? All the other world leaders have deals worked out with us. And as long as you let us do that… we don’t unleash an entire heartless army on your country. America stays, for the most part, safe, happy and the darkness in their hearts festers and remains untouched and off the radars of all the little black monsters that’d want to eat it.” As he speaks, Xigbar gets closer and closer to Obama, finishing his speech by walking his fingers up Obama’s chest and flicking him right where his heart would be.
“We’ll let you think about it, and we’ll come back in a bit to hear your decision.”
“I’ve made it already,” Obama says. “I will never let you blackmail me into allowing American citizens to be harmed.”
Xigbar laughs. “See, Lex? I told you this guy’d be a hoot!” He salutes. “See ya around, Barry,” he says, before vanishing in a cloud of black smoke.
Lexaeus looks far less amused. “Your idealism may end up being your death,” he says sadly. “You should reconsider. All the same – I wish you the best.”
He then vanishes into his own portal, leaving Obama to wonder if there really are little monsters poised to eat America’s blackened heart alive.
To:
spokeFrom:
loreititle: void
wordcount: 808
rating: r
a/n: spoke - the pairing was pretty tough, i tried combining it with 'manipulation', at least, but i'm not sure how it worked out. but, anyway, merry christmas! i hope you like your gift. ALSO I LOSE AT TITLES.
Demyx was sitting still. He was trying to adapt something he'd heard on radio before he had been Demyx. It was coming along alright, it was Beethoven, he thought vaguely. The fifth, one of the famous ones, because Demyx was no music snob who went about hunting down obscure symphonies and pretending he was better than his peers. He just liked classical music, the same as he liked rap and pop and good ol American rock 'n roll.
He was doing absolutely nothing suspicious and so he was a little confused when Xaldin appeared, looking, to the Nocturne, as though he was trying to be menacing but just looking ridiculous.
Xaldin grinned wolfishly. "Hey, crazy." he said.
Demyx's face did not change. "That's rude, I think. Could you stop?"
"Yeah, you think, crazy," Xaldin put his hand over the top of the sitar, and probably accidentally over Demyx' s fingers, too. It sounded to Demyx as though Xaldin hadn't heard his request. This was just annoying, he thought. Or something. He didn't like it either way. "But what do you know? Am I really being rude?" His fingers tightened; Demyx registered a slight pain, a slight disturbance, like a little bug.
Xaldin was sure he was the only one who saw something interesting beneath Demyx's vague, pleasant, little-boy, music-obsessed facade. Demyx was manipulating all of them, lulling them into believing him the most human of all of them, so it would be easy, one night, to kill them all, if he liked, set fire to the castle or, more likely, drown. He wanted to find out Demyx was really, secretly, some evil thing, living under a thick and ancient mask of normallacy on his own. He wanted to draw that thing out. Not to reassure Demyx that he could be whoever he wanted to be, or some shit. He wanted a hunt.
"Come on, psycho." His dark, purple eyes focused on Demyx's wide bright ones. He leaned close, closer, their foreheads were touching. "You don't like music. You can't like anything now."
"Music's all I like," Demyx murmered, but he stopped forcing his eyes open. If Xaldin already knew he was acting....
"No, it's not. You're not right, boy, I can see that. You're hiding something, but I'll find it." Demyx didn't know why Xaldin wasn't dropping this. He had been nothing before he became Nobody and he was nothing now; it didn't interest him and it shouldn't interest this man, this stupid number III, this hunter that didn't know when to leave his prey alone. But it did interest him, and his fingers were creeping up and over Demyx's arms and over Demyx's neck and, well, that wasn't too bad, he knew sex, he knew it from the old days. But Xaldin was pushing at the sitar. Shoving it into Demyx's stomach, where it hurt and it wasn't just annoying, now. He wanted it to stop and he wanted Xaldin to stop, stop pulling at his hair and his zipper and...
He tilted his head back. He grinned, but not in a sweet or silly way. It was in a way as wolfish as Xaldin's was now, and for the first time, Xaldin believed that IX was being whatever he was. He kissed him, rough and violent and eagerly. This was his prey, his finally-drawn out equal. He believed this and barely noticed that Demyx had disentangled his sitar from them, and put it away gently and lovingly and, put it down away from the annoying wind-wolf-whatever man.
Music was all he liked, and that in only a vague sort of way. As something to pass the time with. He didn't like sex and he didn't like games, or even people, to be honest. Of course there had been those who thought he did, it had happened; people thought they had made a friend, or found a lover, or decided, like Xaldin, Demyx was really some psychotic, some monster. It never did any good to tell them that he wasn't hiding some dark interior, he was the same void through and through. But they never left him alone, even if he asked really politely. It was much more efficient, more practical to let them have their way, at first. He would let Xaldin fuck him, whatever, but then...
Well, he always had to dispose of them quick. Otherwise he wouldn't get to finish whatever song he had been working on. It was too bad the Organization was going to have to bump Vexen up to three, it would make him even smuger in Demy's opinion, but such was life. Or death. Or something.
Xaldin fucked him and Demyx gave back, looking like he was enjoying the violent, fast movements, looking like the monster that Xaldin had wanted him to be, but knowing nothing but the notes of the 5th that lingered in his mind.
To:
yo_yo_sanFrom:
spokeTitle: Dead Air
Wordcount: 271
Rating: G
Other: Um. I'm sorry this is not more porny and/or sad? -.-
He had expected an empty courtyard to greet his arrival, granting him a serene space of time to breathe in the darkness of the world and gauge the Beast's temper. Instead the Princess was sitting on the gargoyle-flanked steps, reading as if she hadn't noticed the swirl of darkness marking his arrival. A brief upward flicker of her eyes was the only crack in her mask of indifference.
He smirked in the depths of his hood.
The Beast's despair was heavy in the air tonight, an angry musk that nearly choked the delicate pressed-rose perfume of Belle. No wonder the Princess was here, not quite seeking a confrontation. But she was not the reason he had come.
She stopped him as he walked past with a simple touch on the edge of his cloak. "Why?" she asked, and he looked down into eyes brimming with hurt, and sadness, and ...compassion?
"Why not?" He pulled back his hood just far enough that she could look into his eyes and see the hollow behind them, the void into which all her passion could be poured only to blow away like mist scattering from a waterfall. He didn't bother to stop the low rumble of laughter, either, as she recoiled and stood.
He expected her to back away, and nearly flinched as instead she reached into his hood and brushed his face with a careful hand. "You're still there, somewhere. I can feel you... what's missing?" she asked, and because it seemed a genuine curiousity of the sort that had begun their fall, he answered.
"The heart you could have swayed, Princess."
From:
yo_yo_sanTo:
syviaTitle: Windburn
Wordcount: 300 (^____^) (or 3x100, as you please.)
Rating: ...G? PG? ...something like that.
Notes: :D I hope you like~! I love this particular trio, and was full-delighted to receive your request. Bon appetit~!
This castle reigns over the forest, a dark-fanged fortress full of shadows and unspoken words. Outside, the winds howl, spending their fury against the turrets and gargoyles, and inside the Beast stalks his halls, faithless and wild. He is my project, my target, if you will -- a thing to be transformed, his passion for her turned to mindless, heartless rage.
He thinks of himself as half a man. I will make him one in truth. Tear him into one and the other, heart and body, and then he will know the misery of drawing a breath that tastes of silence.
--
She walks in light. Candles, mostly -- the toy candelabra that serves as maître d' for this house dogs her, hoping she will break curses she is never allowed to understand, seconded by the clock-butler (officious wretch) who hopes that my hold over their Lord will fade, if only she will look kindly upon him, if only her heart would melt.
I see her glow, and almost wish that I had been tasked with breaking her. Her skin would surely taste of cream and honey and library dust, and her tears would be as lovely as the blood-stained fingers of dawn.
--
I draw them together with finely-strung webs, using their weaknesses (his wrath, her fear) as weapons. I set him on edge, honing the fine killing rage to a perfect sheen and sharpness, urging him to greater extremes of abuse and anger, knowing that her heart, the heart of a Princess, will never turn black with fear. I watch the rose, waiting for each petal to droop and fall, knowing that with each moment that passes his chances for redemption waste away. I stand exultant on the ramparts of this castle, sending storms careening through the halls.
And I am never bored.
From:
syviaTo:
singwithinTitle: Paving the Road to Somewhere
Word Count: 744
Rating: PG-13
He was safe now at least.
Sleeping in the pod, his friends nearby. Even with broken memories, he was safe now. He'd destroyed Marluxia, saved her. Saved himself and she had promised to fix him. She could fix broken things. She could fix his memories even when she couldn't fix her own to forget what she'd done. When she couldn't forget what she'd done.
She could string memories together that she had unchained... but she couldn't remake the links she'd broken. Links she had shattered.
"Is that guilt?" she asked, staring at the pod. Naminé gazed upon Sora's peaceful face before turning to Axel. "I know I can't help the Replica, not after what I did. But... I wish it weren't true."
He joined her before the mechanical lotus, looked up at the Keyblade Bearer.
"Maybe," he said. "It's been a while for me."
"At least I can help Sora."
He made a humming noise, not agreeing. "Something else you've got to take care of first."
Naminé thought back to the last time she'd seen Axel smiling. Shivered, because she'd wondered, really wondered if he would go through her to kill Marluxia.
She'd known the answer.
He might not have hurt her deliberately, but the threat of her death wouldn't stop him. Lucky for her Marluxia hadn't meant to force that confrontation, only drive Sora at Axel. Or... maybe it hadn't been luck. Axel had known so much about the schemes within Oblivion. More plots and plots within plots than Naminé had imagined were taking place.
Axel wasn't smiling now. Maybe that was a good thing.
"Riku isn't strong enough to beat Zexion," Axel murmured. "He'll toss illusions and surround the kid in Light. Then Riku will balk at using Darkness to save himself," he folded his arms over his chest and gazed at her, untroubled. "What can you do about that?"
"I-"
"You're so good at lies," and his lips quirked a little but his tone was encouraging. "I'm sure you've got one for Riku."
Yes, yes she was. She had lied to Sora, over and over again, even the truths Naminé had told him were lies; her words in other voices.
"Riku needs to own his power, Naminé," Axel murmured. "Own it before it owns him, or Zexion does."
Naminé nodded. "He needs to face his Darkness." She knew how she could do it. Naminé had borrowed Kairi's role in Sora's memories. She could make a new memory... and borrow Kairi's face. Riku would trust his dear friend before he trusted someone he'd never met. Then Kairi could tell him to use his Darkness, tell him he was strong enough to control it.
Be a lie to tell the truth.
She wasn't trying to hurt him. She was helping.
She'd been helping Roxas as she broke Sora down instead of giving Marluxia a reason to kill him. As she'd stopped the Replica from killing Sora. She'd been helping Sora stay alive when she'd changed his memories. Kept him alive so he could defeat Marluxia.
She kept telling herself that.
"You get him out of Zexion's Light show and I'll take care of the rest."
She flinched, stared because she knew, she knew what that meant.
Axel was looking at her. He slowly and deliberately raised his eyebrows, expression innocent, curious, and a better lie than any she'd ever told.
"D'you think Zexion'll let you stay here with Sora?" The smirk was in his voice- nowhere on his face. Naminé had seen it inside Axel's words as he and Larxene taunted Vexen. "Why don't you ask him?"
Naminé looked away, and said nothing.
"He'll have to get it approved by Xemnas," Axel mused, "But I'm sure the Superior would give up a Keyblade Master, all memory-wiped and ready for mindfucking, to let you keep your promise."
Naminé flinched. She hadn't thought of that. She'd forgotten about Zexion in the wake of Marluxia's absence. She'd thought... she'd forgotten about the rest of the Organization, that things existed beyond Castle Oblivion.
"He's just so understanding that way."
They wouldn't let her. But... Axel would. He was helping Riku, helping her and Sora.
"Why are you-" she got out before he interrupted her.
"Don't worry about it. This is what I do."
That didn't answer her question but at least she knew Axel was on her side, doing what he did.
It was time for her to do what she did.
Naminé extended her power.
:Riku...:
To:
fated_blissFrom:
singwithintitle: calendar girl
words: 120
rating: g
Blue eyes watch him, slim hands smoothing down her white skirt. Riku hides his eyes under the palm of his hand and turns to look, squinting against the glare of the sun. Way to the Dawn hangs loosely by his side.
"Are you ever going to stop?" she asks, biting her lip.
"Probably not," he says.
"You're still looking for her, right?" she says.
"Don't be ridiculous," Riku snaps.
Kairi smoothes down her skirt again, invisible wrinkles flattened. "I'm sorry I can't bring her back."
"I don't know what you mean," Riku says. If he hides his eyes, then she won't be able to see the lie he's telling. (But Naminé sees, and oh, Riku, you can't keep blaming yourself.)
title: speak softly
words: 638
rating: pg
Aladdin was nowhere to be found. At this point, Jasmine was beyond worried. She was half convinced she would find his mangled body in a corner full of those monsters that creep out of the dark, and half convinced he was never coming back.
She pulled her hood a little further over her face, slowly picking her way through the crowded market. Ahead, a little girl knocked some fruit off a stand, and Jasmine picked it up as it rolled to her feet. As she was about to place it back on the table, a burly hand suddenly grabbed her arm and twisted, hard, before she could even react.
"I do not welcome thieves," the vendor said harshly, holding her down.
"Oh, jeez, sis, I thought I lost you," a suave voice interrupted. Suddenly Jasmine found herself torn away and held by a very different person, robed in black. For a brief moment she almost hoped-- but whoever had just grabbed her was much too bony to be Aladdin.
"So sorry for the inconvenience, she runs off sometimes, doesn't mean any harm, you know?" the stranger continued, pressing her to his side. "She didn't take anything, did she? Never means to."
Jasmine opened her mouth, ready to scream, fight, argue (she is the Princess and not to be manhandled), but the man was carefully adjusting her headscarf over her face, pulling it over her mouth in the process.
"No.." the vendor said slowly.
"Wonderful!" the stranger said brightly, dragging her away. "Thanks so much for your help."
They had walked no more than a few steps when the sound of an explosion echoed from behind them. Jasmine managed to shake off her scarf and the stranger's hand, looking behind him, and saw the vendor's stand go up in a ball of fire.
"Boy, that guy really pissed me off," the strange man said, guiding her into an alleyway. "Hey, princess, isn't it a little dangerous for you to be running around by yourself?"
Jasmine shrugged him off angrily, glaring. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"
The stranger looked down at her, green eyes piercing. "Princess, I just saved your skin. Maybe a little gratitude, huh?"
"Did you do that to his stall?" she demanded.
"Yeah, that was me," he said nonchalantly. He reached out and suddenly balanced a single flame in his black gloved hand, throwing it up into the air, and catching it when it landed. It didn't burn him at all.
"Any further questions?" he asked, closing his hand over the fire. When his hand opened, the flame was gone, like magic.
"Why did you help me?" Jasmine asked quietly.
The stranger laughed, but it was utterly mirthless. "Maybe you don't realize it, but you're a little too useful to let die." He leaned in closely, his mouth next to her ear. Involuntarily, she shrank against the wall behind her.
"You'd better stay in your palace, little princess. And don't come out if you can help it, or else the bad guys might just get you after all," the stranger whispered. "Keep that in mind."
His hand brushed past her hair, touching the wall, and suddenly she fell backwards and down, down, down-
Jasmine's eyes flew open, and she sat up abruptly. The darkness was gone. She was on her couch, in her own room, and she could hear Aladdin and Abu playing outside by the fountain, Rajah purring softly on her bed. Her scarf was lying on the floor.
She shivered. Everything was normal, but she felt chilled.
In the alleyway, two Assassins quickly sliced through the last few Shadows that had been tailing the Princess of Heart. They swayed and fell, like quicksilver, and vanished into the market crowd.
"Moving along," Axel said to himself, and he stepped into another portal.
To:
tunasaladsonnetFrom:
fated_blissTitle: Colour Schema
Word Count: 743
Rating: G
Notes: Merry Christmas,
tunasaladsonnet! (: I adore your capslock, and I hope you like this piece.She's walking when she finds it. Walking, just walking, little white slippers padding mechanically on taintless floors, and the slippery nobodies sliding, undulating, in and out of swashed walls, noiselessly. And she's just walking, putting one foot before another, not looking before her, not looking behind her, hands clasped, stained fingers flicking at each other, engaged in a mini war of their own – the only unstill things in this sanitized wonderland. She wonders if she's tipped the scale – her walking, her fidgeting – but it is all without purpose, so it does not matter – and then her feet catch on something. An incongruity. How rare, this tiny, thick lump under her sole. Almost painful.
Namine shifts. Bends. She picks it up, rolls it about within her fingers. She counts every rounded, resolute edge as the thing turns over in her palm. Her gaze roves over every little puncture in red. One to six. She closes her fist.
Back in her room she sprawls on her front and the object slides from her restless hands. Four. Its minute clatter scares her, almost. But she lifts it up, lets it fall, again. Six. And then she lets herself smile. There's a memory in her mind – three children in a hut, the rain whipping outside, a torn-in-places snakes-and-ladders sheet splayed across the damp floor, and…
Yes. Dice.
And like a child grubbing for cracked shells on the beach she shifts her weight from one elbow to another, pushing her hair back at intervals, knees knocking against the chilly floor, crayon in one hand, dice in the other, paper spread out below her like a world…
Three.
She fills the palm tree leaves in with violent red.
One.
The sand with blue.
Five.
The sky in wide, swirling purple.
Six.
His hair in scratchy pink.
Five again. Then two. Three. Two again. Six. Six. One. Four. Five...
The crayons lose themselves in vivid smatterings across the paper. And Namine is lost, hopelessly lost, in her little game. She doesn't hear the steps of booted feet until they are near, so near – until her paper is whisked out from under her fingers to land lightly in the trespassing gloved hands of another.
"So we've an artist in our midst..."
Namine makes a sweep for her picture on tip-toes but he holds it easily out of reach. It takes only another moment of hesitation before she bends to pick up the dice from the floor and holds it out to Luxord, imploringly. It's a trade she demands, despite the seeming subservience of her gesture. But the sides of his mouth stretch in an ironic manner at her motion,
"Then you must know what it means to be a small goddess of an even smaller world."
Her outstretched arm falls back against her side curiously.
"What I don't understand, white-noised ingénue, is your persistence in filling out your tiny universe by chance," he continues lightly. "Volatile, uncontrollable, unchecked… the play is irresistible, of course. But your creation is… your own."
And suddenly Namine is unafraid.
"They – and you're one of them – tell me I have a power…" She watches his gaze laugh, unnerved because she's all too used to it by now. And now she has something of his and it's because it's small enough that she has utmost power over it. For a change. "But I don't feel that I do. It's only when I roll a dice and take a chance that things change, and differences happen."
There is a low, deep-throated, almost inaudible chuckle somewhere in the back of Luxord's throat. He spreads the paper before his gaze again with two fingertips. For one moment that surreal island, an inverted world-that-never-was, glares out of the flimsy white medium. Then Luxord rolls it up, holds it out. She takes it cautiously.
"Namine, Namine… you don't seem to realize the full potential in the words you have just said."
"And beautiful things come out of chance." The words come almost unconsciously. Another memory rises in her mind – that of a female visitor who arrives by meteor shower and makes her home in sand.
"Show me what else you've got." Luxord sits, and there's more than indifferent amusement in his golden eyes. She watches the short plummet of black among the white barrenness - incredible protrusion, welcome abomination… It's a gamble she takes when she holds the colours to her heart and nods, unwaveringly, at his "Come, show me."
To:
str1From:
tunasaladsonnetTitle: Role Model
Word Count: 718
Rating: PG for some light violence.
Notes: Erm. I hope I didn't screw this up for you. x3
Olette wanted to be a vet.
So she had started volunteering at the Twilight Town Animal Shelter. She was a natural when it came to bandaging wounds and keeping the animals calm. She was getting better at not squirming at the sight of blood, but if there was anything Olette was, it was an average fifteen-year-old girl.
She was a fifteen-year-old girl surprisingly dedicated to what she considered her job, however. Because when turned into the third alleyway home (the sun had set for real by now) the first thing she noticed were the yellow eyes peering at her from behind the garbage can. She smiled to herself, and sat down on her haunches a couple of feet away. “Hey, kitty! Are you lost?” she asked softly.
The eyes shifted in response and Olette pursed her lips, making squeaking sounds. She probably didn’t sound anything like a mouse, but she’d be willing to try anything to draw this little one out. Maybe it was a just a housecat wandering around, but it never hurt to check.
She fell back on her butt when the cat jumped out at her suddenly, its…ears twitching.
Only they weren’t ears. They were…antennae. The whole thing looked like an inky blob with yellow bulbous eyes. (How had she not noticed how round they were before?) It stood up, crouched on its hind legs, its front claws twitching eagerly along with the rest of its body.
“Alright.” Olette chuckled nervously, pushing herself backwards on her hands. “You aren’t lost, I guess.”
The thing leaped and caught the bottom of her pants with its claws before she managed to shake it off and run.
She was running down Market Street, towards the Sandlot, when she heard something clatter across the cobbled street behind her. She threw her hands over her head in case the thing was getting ready to jump at her, and despite the blaring warning signals in her brain, looked back.
Good news: someone had thrown a trashcan at the thing, and it was pinned beneath it.
Bad news: there were more of them.
Worse news: they were all chasing her.
A shriek bubbled in her throat and it almost worked its way out, but she had to concentrate on running for her life instead of adhering to the rules of the horror movie she had suddenly walked into. As she ran into the Sandlot, she was relieved to see the ‘dead end’ rule also didn’t apply.
She stopped in the center of the arena, trying to catch her breath, watching those things come closer. She thought about how she should’ve taken up those Struggle classes with Hayner and Pence. And when she blinked, she realized she was crying because Hayner and Pence. She’d never see them again.
One of the blobs leaped up at her face –
A trashcan lid slammed into the top of its head, and it dropped out the air, where it lay twitching for a few seconds before a boot stomped through its torso. It disintegrated into black mist that blew away on the wind.
Olette looked up into the red eyes of one of the waitresses of Seventh Heaven, the café-bar owned by the strangers with the (presumably) dark and mysterious past. No one in town knew where the owners had come from, and they were tight-lipped about it, despite their friendly service. This was Tifa, if Olette remembered correctly. The woman smiled. “You alright?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She brushed at her eyes, feeling embarrassed as she felt another tear spill over. “Thanks to you.”
Tifa turned, her dolphin-tail swishing as more black things materialized. They had the same twitchy movements as the first, but these looked more humanoid, standing completely upright and wearing silver helmets that gleamed under the starlight.
The waitress rolled her eyes, readjusting the suspenders attached to her skirt and lifting her fists to her face. “Stay close to me, okay? This won’t take long.”
Olette nodded, and watched as the woman leapt into action again. It was when Tifa threw one of the monsters into another one and both exploded into black dust that Olette wished she could do that. She wished she could be brave enough to risk herself for a stranger.
Olette wanted to be like Tifa Lockhart.
To:
iki_teruFrom:
str1Title: Teamwork
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1074
Notes: I ended up breaking this into separate sketches. XD I hope it turned out all right.
Riku scowled at Sora. “You dragged us all the way out here for a scavenger hunt?”
“Well, I didn’t know about it until King Mickey sent me a message about it, but yeah. Besides, seeing Twilight Town without having to chase after Heartless and Nobodies is pretty cool.”
“And I’ve never been here before,” Kairi said. “This town seems pretty peaceful, and I could use a break from school.”
“But we’re not even on the same team.” Riku turned toward his teammates, standing on the opposite end of the sandlot; one all muscle and no brains, the other all brains and no muscle. “How am I supposed to get along with those guys?”
Sora gave Riku a pat on the back. “Come on. What harm could they be? Everything’ll be just fine.”
Riku groaned. “This is stupid.”
Team 1: The Guys!
“Two questions, lamer. Why am I on your team, and who’s the doofy guy with the spiked hair?”
“The doofy guy is Sora. And I never asked for you to be on my team.”
“What’s a lamer?”
“You and Hayner,” Seifer said. “And since the two of you are lamers, I’ll be leading this team.”
Hayner laughed. “You lead? Do you want us to lose?”
Sora glanced at the list of scavenger hunt items. Something blue, something round, something edible…
“No, I don’t want you weighing my chances of winning down.”
Blue, round, edible…blue, round, edible…
“How do you expect to lead without Fuu taking your notes or Rai…what does Rai do for you anyway?”
Edible, round, blue… round blue, edible…
“He’s more helpful than that flabby dreamer that hangs out with you.”
Edible, blue…round?
Hayner seethed. “When this is over, I’m gonna go grab my struggle bat and—”
“Hey guys,” Sora said. “Check out what I found.”
Seifer and Hayner both stared. The latter pointed at the item in Sora’s hands. “What the heck is that?”
Sora grinned and held up his quarry. “Blueberry donut. Blue, round, and edible. Three scavenger items in one!”
Seifer looked at his copy of the list, then at the donut. “But where…how…”
“There’s a bakery around the corner.”
Hayner and Seifer looked at each other as Seifer adjusted his beanie. “I think I can deal with a lamer as leader.”
“Same here.”
Team 2: The Girls!
Kairi stepped out of the train station restroom out to the concourse and dropped the roll of toilet paper into the bag Olette held. “Honestly, who made this list? Eggs and toilet paper? It’s like something Sora would write.”
Olette shrugged and hefted the bag. “You should have seen the list from last year. None of the guys would agree to wear lipstick.”
“…You are talking about the scavenger hunt, right?”
“It was a photo requirement.”
Kairi pulled the list and a pen out of her pocket and scratched a mark next to ‘Cylinder of Paper’ before reading further down. “You mean like this next thing on the list? ‘Photo: something scary’?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to do about that one. I guess we could go take a picture of the old mansion, but…”
“But what?”
Olette looked up and down the concourse. “I don’t see Fuu anywhere. That’s scary enough.”
“Well how far away could she be? She came here with us.”
“Boo.”
Olette jumped and spun around. “Fuu, where have you been?”
“Restroom.”
“Wait, how?” Kairi pointed toward the door. “I was just in there…and why do you have the camera?”
Fuu handed the camera to Olette and stepped back. She lifted the hair covering her left eye.
Olette turned away at the sight. “Fuu, stop doing that!”
Kairi felt vomit churn in her throat. I did not need to know what Xigbar’s other eye looked like. “What was that for?”
Fuu pointed at the camera. “Cheese.”
“Right, something scary. Olette, take the picture so she can cover her eye again, please.”
Olette raised the camera and snapped a quick, sure-to-be-blurry photo. “Gross.”
Team 3: The Other Guys!
Riku sighed. “Rai, I’m gonna ask you this only once. Why did you throw the stuffed kitten toy that took us two hours to find into that tree?”
“I thought it’d come back down, y’know?”
“Actually, cats routinely get stuck in trees, so even if it were a live cat…”
“Pence, that’s not the point. And I refuse to dress in a hula skirt again to get another one.”
“Okay. But how do we get it down? Rai threw it really high up there.”
“Well, Rai threw it up there. He can climb up and get it.”
“But I can’t climb trees, y’know.”
Riku tensed. “I do now.” He picked a small rock off of the ground. “Here’s I’ll knock it down.”
“No, don’t!” Pence grabbed Riku’s arm. “You might damage it.”
“As if throwing it into a tree couldn’t damage it enough already?”
“Look, there’s got to be a better way.”
Riku dropped the rock and groaned. “You wanna climb the tree?”
“Well, I can’t climb trees either.”
I am on Team Useless. “Fine, I’ll climb it.”
Riku hauled himself up the branches of the old tree toward the toy cat. As he grew closer, he heard the sound of buzzing near where the cat had landed. Oh, no, please don’t let it be… He looked up, and saw a hornet’s nest dangling from the branch the toy had caught on. Oh, damn it…
The Epilogue!
“Woo!” Sora tossed the sack containing his share of the prize munnie in the air and caught it.
“I’m glad you won, Sora,” Kairi said. “How did your team finish so fast?”
“I dunno. Hayner and Seifer just let me lead, and I kinda found everything. I don’t know why I needed to wear the hula skirt, though.” He turned to Riku. “Riku, are you sure you’re going to be all right? You don’t need an antidote or a Cure spell or anything? I mean, getting stung on the tongue had to hurt.”
Kairi nodded. “Not to mention coming in last place. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Ah’ll ba faun.”
Sora pocketed his prize. “Really? There’s a first-aid kit on the gummi ship, if—”
“Yath.”
“If you say so. Kairi, how did you like your teammates?”
“Olette’s pretty nice, but Fuu is kinda…weird. What about those boys you were with, Riku?”
Riku sneered, though it just made his swollen face puff up more. “Don ath.”
“Okay, then.”
“Thith wa stufad.”
To:
obabscribblerFrom:
iki_teruTitle: Typical
Word count: 620
Characters: LeonxYuffie
Rating: PG
Some days, and Yuffie would never admit this to his face, but some days Leon was actually right. Of course it was usually about the kind of things she wanted to gleefully disprove him at. Like, for instance, her current predicament.
*roughly half an hour ago*
“Stay home,” he had told her, “take some time to heal. Your body needs to recuperate.”
In typical Yuffie fashion, she had argued. “I’m fine! Come on Squall, you guys need me!” She had tried, vainly, to duck under his arm and shoot for the door.
Leon sighed at her, reining her in easily. “Yuffie, I’m begging you please. For the sake of my fleeting sanity, stay here this time?”
Of course she had no intention of actually doing that, but he didn’t really need to know all the facts. “Fine,” she grumbled, “you win. I’ll stay here.”
He left, with Cloud and Tifa; who offered “it’s not like there’s a shortage of heartless butt to kick, you’ll be out there next time,” as solace.
Yuffie counted to one hundred in her head, very slowly. “Ninety-eight Dalmatian puppies, ninety-nine Dalmatian puppies, one-hundred Dalmatian puppies.” She took an extra moment to stretch any lingering kinks from staring at the ceiling too long. “Well then, I’ve stayed, that should fulfill my promise.” After all, she never said how long she’d stay.
*now*
She sighed, "Best laid plans and all that jazz." somewhere between sneaking out and kicking much heartless tail something had gone wrong. Now she was pinned against a wall, she had no idea where the others were (are they even fighting in this area?); and she was bleeding from several fresh wounds. Her last potion bottle had been crushed when she attempted to use it; and glass stuck uncomfortably in her hand.
The heartless were closing in quickly, and the cavalry had yet to survive. Yuffie sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Not the way I wanted to go," she groused, "shouldn't there be someone here to witness my poignant last words?"
She waited for her life to start flashing before her eyes, or something else equally befitting the moment. "How bout a sudden heavy rain?"
Nothing but advancing shadows.
Until the flash of silver in the distance. "Yuffie!" Leon cut through the horde of heartless quickly, fixing the young girl with a burning look. He was suddenly by her side, scooping her up faster then she could breathe.
Leon pressed a hand against her forehead once they were safely away. He had taken his gloves off and actually pressed his warm hand against her forehead “Are you out of your damn mind? Do you think I talk for the sound of my own voice?“ He growled out, hand glowing a minty green as he cast cure over her.
She couldn't help but grin a little, "You must, it's not because we enjoy hearing you speak."
He didn't rise to the bait. "You could have been killed, how do you think I would have taken losing you?"
Yuffie looked away, a feeling of shame washing over her. "I didn't want to sit back. I wanted to be useful for you Squall."
His lips were upon hers, kissing her softly; a feeling like a warm morning rain washed over Yuffie. "You're always useful Yuffie, you keep me going day after day. I couldn't make it without you, so please try to listen to me a bit more?"
She wrapped slender arms around his neck. "Will you reward me with more kisses if I do?"
He did laugh this time; a loud rumble from deep inside his chest. "If that's what you want. Now let's go home, Aerith can patch you up better than me."
Title: Focus
Word Count: 593
Characters: Aerith (also featuring Leon and Yuffie)
Rating: G
Aerith had tried fighting, in the beginning. There were so few of them and so very many heartless to be dealt with. But she wasn't as strong as Leon, or as fast as Yuffie. She often tired too quickly, becoming more of a hindrance than a help.
She had magic, true, but she was such a terrible aim that once she had accidentally caught Leon with a Fire spell. The only thing she seemed capable of doing safely was Cure. So it came as no real surprise when they finally settled down- if you can call agreeing to watch an empty hotel settled down- that she was ordered to stay in the rooms while they went out and fought.
"And they would go out and risk their lives every day while I sat there listening to the tick of the clock." She agonizes to herself some time later; at home- real home. Hollow Bastion, no, Radiant Garden. The location was different but the jobs remained the same. Only now they didn't fight completely alone, they had Cloud and Tifa and the grid to help back them up. But she couldn't help the sick feeling every time she thought of them out there, and her in the safety of their home.
It was unfair of her, but the three of them had been through so much together; bonded so closely that her heart ached that much more for them. She eyed the staff in the corner, more a decoration than an actual weapon anymore; and for one insane minute she considered taking it back into battle.
"You would just be in the way," she chided herself quietly; turning her back to lean against the counter. Aerith just wished she could do something more, something to feel useful for once.
As if drawn by her negative thoughts; the door suddenly burst open. "Aerith! Quickly I need your help!" Leon called, carrying a half lucid Yuffie in his arms.
Aerith raced to the living room just as Leon was settling Yuffie onto the couch. "What happened?" the brunette woman asked, already charging a Cura.
"She snuck out, got beat up pretty badly. I had healed the very worst of it on the way back; but we got attacked again just inside the town limits." Now Aerith saw Leon was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, she pulled a potion out of one of her dress pockets, tossing it to him effortlessly.
Yuffie coughed under her, cracking open one bleary eye. "See Squally, told ya it'd be fine. I haven't done anything yet that Aerith hasn't been able to fix."
Leon sighed from behind Aerith; a sound cross between extreme annoyance and extreme affection. "That's not the point, she does enough around here without you going out there like a suicide fighter. Let's try to give her a break okay?"
Aerith smiled happily. "Thank you, but I really don't mind; and I don't do all that much around here."
Her charge suddenly sat upright, staring at her intently. "Are you blind or something? We'd be half starved to death without you here to make sure we eat! And you take care of our laundry for us and you patch us up? You're like the ultimate grown up Aerith! We can't do this without you, isn't that right Squall?"
"She's right you know," Leon said with his has it really taken you this long to figure that out smile in place.
Feeling slightly ashamed for her "woe-is-me" moment earlier; Aerith couldn't help but laugh until she cried.
From:
dreamer1789To:
kaiyabeckTitle: Gamble of Fate
For![[info]](https://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
kaiyabeck
Characters: Luxord, Repliku, Kairi
Pairing: Luxord/Tifa (one-sided), Sora/Kairi/Riku
Theme/Genre: Het
Word count: 341
Rating: PG-13
A/N: I tried, hope you’re not too disappointed. Beta’d byseers_atemu
-------------------------------------------
No matter what world you go to; there will be, without fail, a place to find out about the latest happenings and meet lots of interesting people. This gold mine of information is generally labelled by a three letter word. Even respectable places like the one in Radiant Garden would still follow through on this ancient law of the universe. Luxord whistled, as one would for a dog which has strayed too far from its master. “Barkeep, bring me another one.”
The one positive thing of getting non-alcoholic drinks was that he could order even more refills than he would otherwise, which in turn meant that the babe who owned this place would have to approach him time and again to oblige. That involved being able to eyeball her without shame, and she wouldn’t even comment on his perverted, drunken mind and threaten to throw him out, since he was sober. He briefly contemplated freezing time in the moment she had to lean forward. But, alas, his entertainment was rudely disturbed as his companion arrived at last and slid down the booth opposite him. “Cut me in.”
Tifa was more than happy to use this excuse to let Luxord just keep the bottle and went back to her place behind the bar. The gambler didn’t waste time or effort feeling disappointed. “I’m surprised you showed up.”
“I have a debt to settle.” Repliku spoke in his best ‘not that it’s any of your business’ tone.
Luxord shrugged as he shuffled his deck faster than the eye could follow. “Says you. The way I see it, that guy is responsible for finishing you off in the first place, so even cutting a deal with that Hades bloke…”
“This isn’t about him.”
Number X didn’t look impressed. “Please tell me this isn’t about her, that wouldn’t be fun at all.”
“Real life isn’t all fun and games.” Repliku snapped back at the gambler. In reply he got a shrug. “Says you.” The Nobody sat up straight, a gleam of anticipation in his otherwise dull eyes. “Are you feeling lucky?”
Tags:
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 12:29 pm (UTC)Also,
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Date: 2008-12-26 02:24 pm (UTC)I would not worry about the overlappingness, I have been having a lot of little things like that happen the past couple days. I think there's just something in the air. >.>
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Date: 2008-12-27 08:36 am (UTC)Also go on you with your perfectly 100 word drabbles~!
Thank you. ^^
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Date: 2009-01-01 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 08:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 03:18 pm (UTC)...OMG,
And the Axel/Jasmine was all sorts of awesomeness as well. I loved how you depicted Axel's cruelty and retained his badass-ness - too many forget that he was never really a 'nice' person to begin with. Thank you so much again.
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Date: 2008-12-25 06:04 pm (UTC)and thank you!! I'm blushing. :')
and ::highfive!:: for some of the pretty awesome interests you have. :)
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Date: 2008-12-25 06:31 pm (UTC)SO. PRETTY. asklfjasd;fja *rereads over and over and over*
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Date: 2008-12-27 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 06:45 pm (UTC)Have to say:
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Date: 2008-12-26 06:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 07:58 pm (UTC)*big squishy hug*
Thank you iki_teru!
To mod: Erm ... I definitly sent in my drabble in time, but it's not in either of the two posts. Did I screw up somehow? I'd hate to think someone didn't get their gift just because I'm useless at HTML.
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Date: 2008-12-25 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 10:13 pm (UTC)Overall I am really enjoying these! Wonderful job everyone! More reviews for the second batch later...
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Date: 2008-12-25 10:39 pm (UTC)the story you did for tabitha_dornac is superfine, btw, i love the opening line and how you put diz in.
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Date: 2008-12-27 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 02:04 am (UTC)Aaand I have to say:
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Date: 2008-12-26 05:13 am (UTC)(also thanks babe<3 demyx is a creepshow and i like that)
(i also liked your drabble, the ending bit was like, oh snap! i approve)
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Date: 2008-12-26 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 02:30 am (UTC)Creepy Demyx ftw!
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Date: 2008-12-26 05:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 04:31 pm (UTC)