Drabble Challenge cuz why not

[sincere]

Need to get cracking on my writing, Crysi made it look tempting, and, heck, I have way too much free time, what with the "can't find a job" thing. Challenge me!

Each person can ask for up to 3 drabbles, and you can ask for 1-3 people in each drabble. All genders and orientations welcome. Pairings are indicated by / and regular interaction with , -- but I'm Le Subtle and your pairing may or may not be nearly invisible.

I'm still on a KH kick, but you may also request: Tales of Symphonia/the Abyss, Suikoden I-III, Warcraft, Lost, Kyou Kara Maou, most of CLAMP, and Final Fantasy VI-XII (minus XI and VIII, although VIII characters may be requested in KH-verse, and plus Tactics). If you're really jonesing on something else, ask and I'll tell you. (In advance, I know nothing of Avatar.)

The format is Character/Character: prompt, as follows:

Luxord, Namine: fortune-telling
Marluxia/Zexion: politics are sexy
Balthier/Fran: the AU where he never took off the Judge costume

You can also request specific storylines, as follows:

Namine, Cid: the tea (AS)
Sora, Roxas, Xemnas: you know nothing (IXIII)

(No requests for NNK canon yet; there isn't enough of it to go around.)

Bonus points if you request at least one pairing that nobody I know writes.

Comments

[maladaptive.livejournal.com]

Dammit, and I was jonesing for some Beatrix/Dagger. *shakes fist*

Demyx, Ariel: princess stole my mizrabs (IXIII)
Xemnas/Marluxia: stalemate
Nef/Rend: PWN!

Xemnas/Marluxia: "The King"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

It was his first truly daring move; all his games up until now had been conservative, discreet. From the original demure May I volunteer an opinion, Superior? he had been rewarded for his insight, but always at Xemnas's pace. A little respect here, a little authority there, building up until he had been privileged above all the others, even the Superior's own peers.

Now time to see how far that went.

"I would like the witch."

A pause. After consideration, sharp burnt eyes on his unhooded face, Xemnas intoned, "Why?"

Marluxia bowed his head slightly. "To further the goals of Castle Oblivion." Wait for it: two, three. A careful dance, this chess game, edging the pawn to see if she would be able to slip forward unnoticed and become a queen. "You desire the keyblade master?"

Cool, cutting their current keyblade master right out of the equation. Poor child, unaware of the larger game going on around him. Even Xemnas, doting on the boy as he did, had decided that it was better to be safe than heartless.

That made him expendable. Another pawn, like the witch.

Those inscrutable eyes watched him. "...yes. You know that."

"And you commanded me to use the resources of the castle to do so," Marluxia picked up smoothly. Step, step... The beat of the dance keeping time to the ticking of the game clock. "In a confusing, isolated environment, manipulate the impressionable boy to our side. But we could use her connection to him. Instead of taking the chance that he might turn on us and choose to hate us, we can temper the truths in his memories... Make ourselves sympathetic."

"I thought you needed no tricks like Zexion's to use the Castle to your advantage...?"

"VI's tricks are delusions," he said, dismissive. "Useful for what they do, but not for the long term. What I shall do with the witch is no parlor trick." He leaned forward, intent, passionate. Let Xemnas see his certainty and be swayed by his logic. "It is rebuilding."

And the rebuilding could serve so many purposes, so subtly be made to serve Marluxia and not Xemnas. The Superior was not a plotter, not cunning; politics were not his game, but facts, science.

But there was still something nerve-wracking about knowing that he could not read this opponent, that the motionless face and deadened heart gave away nothing of his thoughts. Exciting, perhaps.

"...very well," the Superior pronounced finally, and a cold smile turned his lips up. "Have the witch if you like."

Marluxia darted a wary glance at him. An odd way to say it. As if... he were being humored. As if his pawn had been allowed to become a queen.

Perhaps... he does know. Nervous thoughts began to overtake him, ifs and hows, and then-- Clever. The seeds of doubt had been planted, whether or not there was substance behind them; enough to shake him, make him careful -- less confident, and thus more transparent.

Well, he would grind those seeds beneath his bootheel. "You are generous," he murmured graciously, and thought, Someday you will bow before me.

But for now, they stared at one another across the board.

[alba-aulbath.livejournal.com]

Saix, Luxord: cards and divination
Axel, Lexaeus: pyrophobic or pyromaniac?

Saix, Luxord: "Driving Without Mirrors"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

A bottle of whiskey and three rounds of blackjack later, Luxord shuffled the deck and began to lay out cards in a spiraling pattern without warning. Saix watched him, a hair less steady than he might have liked, and asked, "Do you only divine when drunk?"

"I never divine," the gambler said. "Do you only drink when courting time?"

His lips peeled back in a warning before he shook his head slightly. "I have nothing to fear from the future," he said, confident in this.

Luxord placed each card carefully, although it matched no spread that Saix had ever known. Maybe it didn't matter, and the magic in the spread came from his quick fingers more than the positioning.

"And the past? You cannot know the future without accepting the past."

Luxord placed each card carefully and Saix felt like steel, rooted in place and staring at the cards. "I have nothing to fear from what is past," he said. "It's gone. Done."

"Ah," Luxord said with fine irony. "I suppose that's why I'm the one laying down the cards, and you're just going to read them."

Saix slammed his fist down, making a card jump, and Luxord was already there, straightening it. "I don't need you to divine the future! The Superior's wish is to consult you in this. I've entertained you for the better part of the evening, now do your job."

Luxord finished the spread in silence, and for a moment Saix thought he had won. But when it was done, the gambler observed, "It's a shame the past is gone, or else you might be able to look into it to see why he no longer asks you alone." Then, before Saix could snarl at him again, "Is it good?"

He chose to overlook the jab and studied the lay of the cards. They were just numbers, symbols and faces, and the pattern meant nothing to him, if indeed it meant anything at all. But when he looked closely -- looked beyond them -- there was meaning there; yes, even the future. Twelve would bear witness to a great import, and then they would be thirteen, and of them the last would be the truest. In his heart, he would be the only self he had ever been, knowing no future... no past.

Lucky, Saix thought, enviously, and then everything fell to pieces, the meaning gone.

Luxord was lucky too, if he could face his past with no reservations, no regrets and no longings. Yet still... "Why don't you divine?" he said, mutedly.

"Because that would be cheating." Luxord got to his feet and left the room.

Saix felt like steel: perhaps because he didn't think of the past, and perhaps because he couldn't.

[phinnia.livejournal.com]

Does this challenge work for non-fanfic drabbles too?

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Always. ♥

[merigold.livejournal.com]

Demyx, Roxas: high fashion

:D?

Demyx, Roxas: "Technicolor"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

"How could you say that?" Demyx said, wounded. "My hair is very fashionable!"

Roxas told him evenly, "It looks like something a crow would make."

As if the kid even had reason to talk, he looked like he'd just walked away from a motorcycle accident. Demyx huffed sullenly before he remembered what he was there for and turned Roxas around to face the mirror. "Anyway, black is not your color. I can totally pick out better clothes for you!"

"I don't want other clothes," Roxas repeated, for perhaps the tenth time. Demyx ignored him.

If he left the kid alone, he'd probably corridor right out of there, so he squeezed into the dressing room with him and put the pile of clothes to the side. "Now strip!" he commanded in his sternest voice.

Roxas stared at him, flat, for a long, silent moment, and Demyx wondered nervously if he was about to get a keyblade to the stomach (it wouldn't be the first time).

"If you don't strip, I'll have to help you," he tried, as a threat. He wasn't really sure he could make Roxas do anything he didn't want to do, but the other blond seemed allergic to physical contact, so maybe the suggestion would be enough.

Finally the boy shrugged and started to disrobe. Demyx basked in his victory for a moment before handing Roxas the first pair of jeans that came to hand. Roxas stared at them, then at him, and then suddenly with blinding speed the palm of his hand shot out and slammed Demyx's head back against the door of the dressing room.

"Ow! Fuck! Ow." He grabbed the back of his head, rubbing it sullenly. By the time he could bring himself to crack his eyes open and watch warily for the next blow, Roxas had already changed into the jeans.

Momentarily, Demyx was impressed. The kid had some sort of talent. He'd be a great stage performer. "If you were body-shy you just had to say so," he pointed out all the same.

"Lexaeus said it isn't appropriate to be naked in front of other people," Roxas said, scowling at the denim.

That brought to mind all sorts of important questions, like How did Lexaeus wind up telling you something like that? and Did Lexaeus walk in on him strutting around naked as a jaybird? and Eugh?!

"Does Zexion know about that?" he started to ask instead of any of those, but his attention was caught as Roxas slipped into the shirt. Avidly, he said, "See, now look at you! You're a regular rock star. No, don't button up the shirt."

Roxas gave the taller blond another of his long, flat stares, and then turned to stare at himself in the mirror, with the emerald shirt hanging loose around his bare chest, over the tight pale denim.

Then he slammed Demyx's head into the dressing room wall again, and Demyx cursed tight spaces, violent teenagers, and being fashion-conscious.

[snarky-kat.livejournal.com]

Namine and Kairi: sneaking away from the boys in Halloween Town

Balthier/Vaan: lessons

Axel/Roxas, Larxene: first impressions

Balthier/Vaan: "Not on the License Board"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

"You gotta teach me how to be a sky pirate," Vaan said, practically pleading.

Balthier hated pleading. It was embarrassing and demeaning to both parties. He gestured impatiently and drawled, "You don't teach someone to be a sky pirate. Just as you don't teach them to be free-spirited. Or intelligent."

Subtle jab. Right over his head. "I can totally do it! I just, need a little instruction." Vaan rubbed the back of his neck.

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. In the middle of the damn sewers fleeing the guard, there was Vaan, wanting to know what it was like to be a sky pirate. Trying to worm out stories of his exploits. All the whys and hows that more worldly folk would already have known.

Balthier hated needless exposition; it made for bad story-telling. Children so rarely understood complex concepts like that. It wasn't easy to be a truly compelling leading man, and you couldn't do it just by rattling facts off a slate.

"Look, Vaan. Some things can't be taught. I can teach you how to fly an airship." He patted the hull of the Strahl, and the boy's eyes lit up. "I can't teach you to be a sky pirate. It's something that either comes to you, or it doesn't. Like a way with women," he added, modest. That was another of his gifts. He silently invited Vaan to admire his partner, his admirers, the easy way he'd charmed Vaan's girlfriend...

Right. Over his head. "It can't be that hard," Vaan scoffed.

The way with women or the sky pirating business? Balthier entertained himself imagining that it was both. But he pointed out, "There's such a thing as a natural skill. Did anyone have to teach you how to kiss, the first time you swept the lovely Penelo off her feet?"

Vaan stared at him with such wide, blank eyes that it was a moment before Balthier could catch up.

"No," he said, "don't tell me."

He hasn't even kissed that poor girl? Balthier put his head in his hands for a moment. The boy really was utterly hopeless. Couldn't do anything on his own. And here he was, the boy's role model.

Fran would laugh at him if he knew. Balthier looked around both ways to make sure she was nowhere nearby before he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Come on, then," he said, beckoning Vaan closer with two fingers. "You've got a lot to learn."

[vulchu.livejournal.com]

RikuSora, IXIII: Let's make believe
Sora, Yuufie: Ninjas in ur base
AxelRiku: Playing with fire

Riku/Sora: "Solitaire"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Sora asked the tree, and Riku rolled his eyes.

"I'm seventeen," he pointed out, and Sora immediately said, "So you're done growing up? Go on then, run for president."

It was just such a childish question, and kind of absurd at their age. Riku wondered if Sora would be asking questions like that into his thirties.

He wasn't going to answer, but then an acorn hit his head hard enough to sting. "Ow!" Riku rubbed the top of his head and got up to look at the tree. "Some fucking squirrel--"

"Ignore him and he'll ignore you," Sora said, tugging Riku back around, which meant it probably hadn't been a squirrel. "Come on! What do you want to be?"

Riku rubbed his chest awkwardly. But Sora was hovering on his elbow, watching him and close enough to sense, and it was distracting enough that he found himself saying, "Well, I'll probably be a doctor. When I'm done growing up."

"Don't make fun of me," Sora said, scowling, but added, "So you want to go into the family business? Or a different kind of doctor?"

It was a sign of the kind of life he'd lived that the first thing he thought of when he heard 'doctor' was 'psychiatrist'. But it applied to Riku too. "The family business kind." Riku let his hand fall to his side. "Who knows, maybe I'll actually get my dad then."

Sora's fingers slipped over his hand and played against his skin. Riku snuck a hopeful glance at him, but the younger boy was lost in thought, evidently unaware. Does he do this to me on purpose, or is it just an extremely frequent accident?

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," the brunet said dubiously. "Are you sure that's your dream?"

If the distracting touches were an accident, the perceptiveness had to be an accident. "It's what's expected of me. My dad's a psychiatrist, my grandfather was a psychiatrist, even my mom's dad is a psychiatrist." Riku shrugged.

"But that's not a dream!" Sora protested. "Don't you have something you really want to be? Let's make believe you don't have anyone to follow-- now what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Riku didn't answer for a moment, and so Sora got to his feet quickly and said intently, "He's right. You don't want to tell me in case I let it slip to Ansem."

Panic! Riku scrambled to get his arms under him. "No, that's not wh--"

"It's okay." Sora smiled, almost mischievous. "It's fair. I'll go play over there, and you can tell Roxas, and Roxas will tell me. Then even if I do tell my dad, Roxas told me, so he'd never believe it. Right?"

Sora rested a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him even though Sora was the one who wasn't being trusted.

Then it was just silence, nothingness, the breeze stirring his clothes against his skin. Riku let the tension slip away from him, little by little, and then he breathed, "I want to..."

[v-voltaire.livejournal.com]

yay!

Haruka, Watanuki: white rabbits
(Are you up on the xxxHolic scanlations? if not, replace "Haruka" with "Doumeki")
Baralai, Gippal, Paine (or some combination of thus): respect points
Zidane Tribal: something in the Institution XIIIverse

Doumeki, Watanuki: "On Becoming Lost"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

(I fail at keeping up, so no. Doumeki it is!)

"What do you know about Alice in Wonderland?" Watanuki forced out in a rush, hovering over that ungrateful bastard and glaring at him. It was a glare that warned him not to get the impression that they were friendly or to mistake this for some sort of request for aid. He was only saying it because it was driving him crazy!

Doumeki blinked at him, slowly. It's like talking to a wall! After perhaps fifteen seconds he said, "Why would you ask that?"

And he never answered questions! "Would you just tell me, what do you know about it?!"

"I read the books," Doumeki said, "so a lot. It would take a while to tell you. You're turning purple."

Watanuki reluctantly took a deep breath and sat down across from Doumeki. Glared at him some more. "I don't know anything about it." Except what was common cultural knowledge, which gave him the vague impression that Alice's life was somewhat like his own. "Yuuko-san said something about the White Rabbit today. What's the White Rabbit?"

Doumeki plucked the bento box from his hands -- damnit, what if that hadn't been for him?! Jerk! -- and said before Watanuki could snap at him, "Alice wound up in Wonderland because she followed the White Rabbit down the rabbit-hole. She continued to follow and search for him, although in the end he turned out to be the herald for the Queen of Hearts, who tried to have Alice killed."

"So." Uncomfortable, Watanuki shifted on his knees. "He was her enemy?"

Shrugging, the archer ate a slice of carrot. "You could put it that way." He shook off his chopsticks and glanced at Watanuki. "So?"

He hadn't even said anything, but he'd been humming too loud, and Yuuko had been hungover and nothing made her feel better so much as knocking him down a peg or two when he was in a good mood.

"There's Watanuki, preparing to chase after his white rabbit again," she'd said direly to Mokona. "No idea where he's going, just skipping blindly along."

"Do you have something you want to say?" he'd snapped. "Don't just sit there and comment on how doomed I am!"

"Oh? You want directions in Wonderland?" Yuuko had straightened to smirk at him. "Are you sure you're willing to pay the price for them?"

Of course he had stalked off, but hearing it from Doumeki was no better.

Himawari-san, he thought, crestfallen. She'd been so special to him for so long, and it seemed like everything was working against them, no matter how fervently he tried to deny it.

After a silent moment, Doumeki said indifferently, "Don't get like that. It makes you look like a starving dog."

"What?" Watanuki snapped.

"We all have our White Rabbits." Doumeki studied the bento box with that infuriatingly blank expression of his. "Even if we never catch up, the journey is worth something."

For a moment Watanuki was... "Do you really believe that?"

Doumeki looked up, shrugged. "We have to." Then, "Where's the umeboshi?"

"You have takuan! Eat it and love it and praise Kimihiro-sama's name!"

"I don't like daikon."

Un. grateful. bastard.

[unicorn]

...since I was too silly to give it to Crysi when I had the opportunity~

DiZ/Xeha!Riku: unspoken

plus

Roxas/Larxene: tolerate
Donald, Sora: retreat

♥

Roxas/Larxene: "We Both Prefer to Hold the Chains"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

"It's strange," she mused aloud, "I wonder what they see in you. Maybe you're Xemnas's type, but what about you could Axel possibly find interesting?"

She curved her fingers over Roxas's jaw. The blond boy stared at her with flat dead eyes, the kind of look that she'd like to wipe away. It was almost angering. Perhaps Axel was thinking the way she thought; perhaps he wanted to find something that would strike that blank look away.

Larxene had thought Roxas would be protective of his personal space, but evidently he was not so easily fazed.

"It seems to me," she breathed into his ear, "that you would be lifeless in bed. Lying there, tolerating it, never doing anything interesting."

Still no reaction, and when she drew back to look at him his expression hadn't so much as twitched, neither more nor less involvement in what she was doing to him. "Like now," she added, shoving off annoyance.

If she hadn't seen the boy hold his own in discussion with Saix (who was, as far as she was concerned, equally semi-mute) she would've thought him voiceless. Clearly she would have to fill all the conversational gaps. Fortunately, she had plenty of provocative things to say.

"Dead fish just never seemed like Axel's type," she said, slinging the arm around Roxas's shoulders idly, almost companionably. "Maybe I overestimated him? I suppose he could want a pretty little doll to fuck. The Superior I really don't think any better of." Larxene rolled her eyes.

Still, Roxas said nothing, didn't move beneath her. What would break that paralysis? What did Axel know that she didn't?

Larxene purred thoughtfully, "Of course... I suppose it might be nice to see what would force a little expression out of you..."

She dipped in to brush her lips against his, but all at once his fingers closed around her neck in an almost vice-grip. Outrage and animal panic shot through her veins, and she met his eyes with a furious glare that promised pain if he didn't remove his uninvited hands at once.

"If we do this," he said flatly, "we do it my way."

No one touched her without her detailed permission and utter confidence in their intentions; and so no one touched her except Marluxia, and so they didn't do this, as Roxas had so charmingly put it. But she thought she'd discovered what Axel's interest in the boy was.

[oneill]

My kosher challenges are:

Lucia, Sgt. Joe: they grow up so fast, don't they?
Kantarou, Youko (pre-Haruka's release): 朧月夜

My pathetically hopeful, blast-from-the-past challenge is:

Zero/Erts: either "I'd like to walk around in your mind" or "coldest night of the year," whichever sparks an idea

[oneill]

. . . . wait, you meant Final Fantasy Tactics, not Tactics Tactics. *headdesk*

[yhibiki.livejournal.com]

(I hope it's all right if I'm a lurker... :) )

Jade/Peony: "it's good to be the king"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Lurkers are welcome. ♥

[yashahime.livejournal.com]

Mm, tasty bonus points! *snaps at them longingly*

Xemnas/Namine, the power of submission
Donald, Goofy, the odd couple (pair if you dare! >D)

...hell with bonus points, it's my OTP:

Roxas/Axel, Valentine's Day

Xemnas/Namine: "Bedtime Stories" (not kidsafe)

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

She closed her eyes and fought off despair when he touched her, when his hands trailed over her body and beneath the flimsy white linen which was her only ineffective protection against him. She clamped her lips tightly shut when she would have cried out, or perhaps just cried, and the only sounds to escape her were muffled whimpers.

She hated the way her body seized up and shuddered with his fingers inside her; perhaps that shameful pleasure was balanced out by the way it always hurt, always, when he pressed inside and stretched her as far as she could go and thrust again and again until he was done. There was nothing in that for her except for the sense of violation she felt afterwards, of being used with not even the shameful pleasure to comfort her.

But she never fought him. She stood still when he began to touch her and did not run. She grabbed at his arms for support when he was inside her and did not cry.

And when he was done, and breathing hard, he would ease slowly down beside her and stroke her hair, and sometimes he would speak in rusty words.

"My first time with a woman," he said, or, "I always wanted to be with him," he said.

Or, "The things I never remembered, when I was whole..."

Then he would tell her stories, words that no other was allowed to hear; these were her bedtime stories. She listened to them mutedly, ignoring his hands and the stickiness inside her, leaking out of her, and she would take them into herself and store them away. Perhaps they would be useful. Perhaps not.

She liked having things to remember, even if they weren't hers.

He always spoke about his Somebody as though they were one and the same: when Xigbar told her about humorous incidents or Vexen related some bit of knowledge he had learned, they always said, "I remember when Braig..." or "Even read in a book once..." But in the quiet after climax, those stories were always about him, never about another person that he had once been.

He told her his plan for attaining Kingdom Hearts, told her that he wasn't sure who they would be when they had hearts, told her that she was just like him, just like Roxas, that they three were all kin, really...

And after the stories, he would stare off into the night unseeing when another man would have wept.

Later, Marluxia would tell her, "Help me and you will have meaning; and if you resist--" and she would say mutedly, "I will help you." There was no need for threats with her. She knew, better than anyone, that giving in was far better than struggling when there is no hope of escaping.

And there were so many things to learn from her dominators when they faltered.

[ladycrysiana.livejournal.com]

Demyx/Xigbar: anywhere else and back again
Sora/Riku/Kairi: simple gifts
Maleficent , or / Pete: Childhood dreams

Kairi/Sora/Riku: "Tricky"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Each of them had one unexpected thing that they were really good at.

Riku worked with his hands -- at some point, Sora and Kairi had noticed that he was a craftsman at heart. He liked to carve little shapes out of wood and build rafts. Fishing was his hobby, but he wasn't as good at it as Kairi (who, ironically, didn't have the patience for it) and he preferred making things. They made him feel useful, he said; made other people think that he was useful, compliment him on his skill and his generosity in giving things away. They were no use to him once they were done.

More than once the other two had woken in the middle of the night to find that the spot where Riku should have been sleeping was vacated, and that the man himself was in another room, building a matchstick castle by candlelight.

"I couldn't sleep," he said sheepishly, and then Sora shoved him out of his chair and back to bed.

Kairi could tell stories. She would attribute meaning to the strangest things: sewing scissors, pumpernickel bread, debris in the water. As if her own experience weren't exotic enough, she made up origins for everything else she saw. This glass was blown by a frustrated artist who followed in the family trade when what he really wanted was to race, and that cashier down at the grocery store had had a fight with his wife that morning over a small thing because his marriage was failing, which was why he was so short with them.

They tried to get her to write them down, but it was like she forgot the words when she had paper. Riku hovered over her chair and Sora sat across from her, leaning on his arms.

"This soda can has carried across the waves the whimsical dreams of a midsummer contest among boys," Riku read aloud, and Sora said dubiously, "Really?"

"I don't know!" she said, frustrated, and threw the pen across the room.

Sora's gift was a simple one, although as children they would never have expected it of him.

He could cure any problem with a kiss.

"Just lie down with me," he'd coax Riku, slipping arms around his waist and pressing lips to his neck, his ear, his mouth. "When you're not here I hog the bed, and then Kairi kicks me out." Kairi curved against Sora's back and smiled over his shoulder at Riku. Somehow Riku would fall asleep, warm and serene.

Sora would hop up to retrieve the pen to find Kairi all but ready for a tantrum, turning an embarrassed red with her arms folded sullenly. He swept her right out from beneath Riku's nose, grinning and kissed her playfully. "So what? I like hearing them better than reading them anyway."

"That's because you don't read," Riku said, dryly.

"Shut up," Sora said, scowling at him, as Kairi melted a little in his arms and smiled reluctantly.

Both Riku and Kairi agreed that it was very tricky of him, and they loved him for it.

[sakusha.livejournal.com]

I want more drabbles! :D Because your writing makes me wibble.

Tsuzuki/Hisoka: collarbone (I am soooooo not subtle in my encouragement for you to write, as Stephen Fry calls it, man-on-man action)
Riku/The DARKNESS: sweet memory (is that a pairing uncommon enough for a cookie? :3 and by pairing, I don't mean bizarre darkness-tentacle rape D: I mean seductive mind!crack~)
Sirius/Remus: shaking

aaaaaaaaaaaaand yes. Most of my prompt ideas tend to follow a pattern, have you noticed? *clings to her OTPs*

[sakusha.livejournal.com]

I offer as sacrifice to the great Kay:

A pretty Namine picture (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/42101042/?qo=29&q=by%3Ablacklillian&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps)
Sora = angry drunk?? (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/36493812/?qo=62&q=by%3Ablacklillian&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps)
Org XIII goes grocery shopping (part 1) (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/37191405/?qo=54&q=by%3Ablacklillian&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps)
Org XIII goes grocery shopping (part 2) (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/37605173/?qo=51&q=by%3Ablacklillian&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps)

And reciprocated drabble offerings, if there's anything you want in particular. <3

[hauntedreality.livejournal.com]

Conrad/Alford: Age differences

♥

Conrad/Alford: "Prove It"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Somewhere in the back of his mind Alford was aware that Conrad was many years older than he; not only older as many men were, but older as only those of demon blood could be, decades older, quite literally old enough to be his grandfather, to have met his grandfather in his youth.

That intellectual awareness didn't change what he saw, what his senses told him. Conrad looked young... and in unsettling dreams that woke Alford in a fevered sweat, his skin was as taut and smooth as any young man's. It was hard to determine precisely what was unsettling about the dreams -- the nature of them, or perhaps simply the way that he reacted to them.

Either way, Alford had to take matters into his own hands. He couldn't just dream any further.

"Fight me," he said, jaw set.

Conrad watched him, his eyes serene and clear. He surely never had dreams like those.

"Alford," he said soberly, "is this really necessary? You and I have no reason to fight. Do you need something? Are you in some trouble?"

How humiliating, to be remembered by one he admired as someone unable to take care of himself, not even in control of himself. Alford clenched his teeth, dismissing the hot flush of shame. "I haven't lost the holy sword again, if that's what you're suggesting. I have no interest in killing you is all. I want only to fight you!"

Conrad took another moment, as if weighing how serious he was, and Alford did not waver. Then the halfling drew his own blade, and the battle was finally ready.

For all his reservations, Conrad did not hold back. Their blades clashed fiercely and their boots skidded against the dirt; Alford was breathing hard, sweating, and he could see that Conrad was doing the same, in the fleeting moments where he had the chance to study the other man. It filled him with a satisfaction, not unlike that in the unsettling dreams. So few ever saw Conrad ruffled like this...

A quick hard blow and Alford stepped back poorly, stumbled and landed on the hard-packed ground. He looked up the length of Conrad's sword at those compassionate dark eyes.

"What was this about, Alford?" he asked quietly. "Why?"

After a beat, Alford said, "My grandfather knew you as a great warrior." Slightly stiff, he looked up at Conrad, met his eyes squarely. "I had to make certain you weren't slowing down."

Conrad laughed, sheathed his sword and offered Alford a hand up. That, too, was something Alford committed to memory. "In my old age? No, Alford. I'm still in the prime of my life." He smiled again, his eyes reflecting the expression. "And if you want me to prove it to you, you have only to ask."

Alford flushed, and laughed with him, and -- Conrad didn't know what he was suggesting, but -- well, maybe later he would ask.

[gatafairy.livejournal.com]

Oh, boy. I really need to play KH2 so I won't have to be all, *doesn't read potentially very good fanfic due to spoilers* It gets really annoying. XD;

I REQUEST.

Jack, Shannon: jungle!doctor = shaman-type? (shut up, you knew I would request something with her if I requested at all XD)

AND.

Clay/Saki: glasses and good-byes. (ahaha, I'm so old school. ...you love me. XD)

You don't actually have to do either of those if nothing comes to you. I am content to just wave and say hi.

Jack, Shannon: "Excuses"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

((Hahaha unspecified time period ftw.))

"Ow," she said, and snapped a little, "Can't you be more gentle?"

Jack sighed, reining in his own irritation -- snapping back at her would serve no purpose except starting a fight. "I'm being gentle," he said patiently, "but your ankle is sprained. It's going to hurt."

Shannon leaned back on the crate. "Great. The only thing more damsel-in-distress than stranded on a freaky-ass island is spraining your ankle."

His lips quirked. If you're a damsel in distress, what does that make the rest of us? But he said, "I don't think anyone is going to mistake you for a princess. Not in those clothes."

"Thanks for reminding me." She let her leg dangle even after he moved away to find bandages, watching him. "...Don't tell Boone, okay?"

Fielding unreasonable requests was practically commonplace. "He's going to notice, Shannon."

"Yeah, but don't tell him how it happened. Tell him I was being chased by a polar bear or something."

The truth being an innocuous story about a hike in the woods with some not very good hiking shoes. "That's not going to make your brother stop worrying about you, Shannon," he pointed out.

Shannon didn't say anything, busy brushing her hair behind her ear and scrubbing at her face as if wishing she could make it feel clean. Jack shook his head and went back to cutting up thin strips of cloth and rinsing them carefully. He didn't pretend to understand these people and the things they wanted and didn't want. All he could do was present them with medical advice and the obvious.

"Okay, we're going to use this salve," he said, reaching into a jar.

"That doesn't look very sanitary." She eyed it; no label, scratched and rimmed with dirt on the outside from where he kept it buried and cold. "Should I be getting a second opinion?"

"I made this myself."

"Really?" Shannon met his eyes for a moment, serious as if to measure whether or not he was telling her the truth. A little sullenly, she added, "It must be nice to be useful."

More issues he had neither the patience nor the familiarity for. "It's pretty easy. All the ingredients are here in the woods, nothing too advanced."

She laughed shortly as she held out her leg to him, although she didn't seem to mean it. "You're like some kind of witch doctor."

"I'm what?"

Shannon waved at their surroundings. "I mean, you live in a hut outside the jungle and make salves from stuff. Isn't that like, what a shaman does?"

The analogy didn't sit well with him. Jack braced himself in a crouch and said firmly, "No. I'm a doctor. I am, however." Gathering the salve on his fingers. "Capable of adapting."

She didn't waver when he put on the salve, but he got the feeling she wasn't convinced.

[sora-ishida.livejournal.com]

Mmm, bonus points you say? Time for the Random Pairing Generator Box of DOOM! >D

Zexion/Sora: paradox
Xaldin/Saix: mirror

Only two for now....in case I decide I want an OTP-ish one later ^^
[Also, I suck at coming up with good prompts, so feel free to just not use the ones I gave at all]

Lexaeus, Zexion/Sora?: "Mimic"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Lexaeus stepped out of the corridor and they both startled; Lexaeus because the one who turned to face him had wide blue eyes and spiky brown hair, and Sora because he had not expected to encounter anyone here. The giant summoned his tomahawk and started to growl, "How you got to this place I don't know--"

"Calm down," Sora said, his young voice cool. "Who are you looking at, Lexaeus?"

He allowed the illusion to waver, Zexion flickering briefly into view before he built it back up again, and Lexaeus eased slowly, bracing the butt of his weapon against the ground. "What are you thinking?" Lexaeus demanded.

"I knew you wouldn't like it," Zexion murmured, turning back to the sphere in the center of the room.

His friend stepped up behind him to see what he was seeing. In the polished crystal of the sphere was the real boy, talking to his companions with a crestfallen look. There was no trace of artifice in his features, no hint of deception or extraneous knowledge -- only pure emotional reaction.

It explains much about Roxas. Without Sora's heart, there is nothing left of him, Zexion thought. It was so tempting to reach out to the sphere, to touch his image. It was hard to believe that such a being could exist.

"Why?" Lexaeus asked simply. "You have tried this before, with XIII. You cannot mimic the keyblade."

That was a good memory too. Sora stretched in the sphere, and Zexion watched thoughtfully and did the same, stretching every muscle in the same order, perfect imitation of Sora's movement. "We need him," he said. "We need Riku. There's no better way." His way would not have involved Marluxia's underhanded plotting, but for reasons unknown to him, the Superior had chosen to give him the witch and free reign.

Lexaeus shook his head. "Send me word when you're done."

It unnerved him. Zexion tried not to smile as the big man left; he would make it up to him later. But for now, this was what he did -- what he was skilled at, what he loved. He never had to question Lexaeus's attachment to the still, old places of the worlds they went to.

This, too, was surely above reproach.

He watched Sora's expressions, those impossibly feeling expressions. Could he really make those expressions, even craft them with illusions? When he looked at himself in the mirror, Sora's eyes and Sora's hair and Sora's thin wiry body, he drew the darkness to him, drew the shadows, painted his face until he saw himself wide-eyed and unassuming. He twisted those features into surprise, into a broad grin, into furrowed anger.

All natural, all... emotional. Sora might well have been in two places at once.

Zexion smiled, trailing a hand over his stomach. You're as good as mine now.

There was no mistaking this smile for Sora's.

[bastioned.livejournal.com]

If a random lurker can request... >> Hrm.

Aerith/Yuffie: comforts
Drace: duty

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Lurkers welcomed. ♥ *aerith/yuffie yay*

[apapazukamori.livejournal.com]

Hmmmmm... Since I love you and you're the only person who writes tactics fic that's anywhere near good, I come to you with these requests:

Rosalie, Kantarou: cohabitation
Yuuko, Sugino, Haruka: Kantarou
Raikou/Kantarou/Haruka: hyena

:)

Haruka, Sugino, Youko: "The New View"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

The view from Sugino's window was very different than the view Haruka had become accustomed to-- From Kantarou's roof he was content to watch, to see the busy movements of the people and the carts in the streets. There was more than enough to keep him interested without his ever having to move, and more than that, he felt like what he saw from that window was all that he needed to see. Sugino's window was serene, vast. There was so much world beyond it. It made Haruka's wings ache with a longing to spread out and fly, to soar far and fast and...

Away.

That thought filled him with a different sort of ache, hard to explain even to himself, but he suspected that in part the instinct to leave was due to Sugino and Youko's interminable bickering.

"He's a home-wrecker!" Sugino insisted fiercely.

"Don't make me laugh, Kan-chan can barely wreck a kettle of tea!" Youko snapped back at him. Poor protective thing, she was all but growling and bristling around the edges. "Maybe if you were a better home-maker--"

"This isn't about me! We're talking about him!"

Youko folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, staring at the tengu. "Fine. Then let's talk about him. What has Kan-chan ever done that makes you think he's trying to destroy your happy home?"

It was futile, and Haruka could have told her that. Tengu did not easily forgive grudges, and Sugino's origins didn't make him any less stubborn and set in his ways. Even if the grudge was irrational or unfounded, it was difficult -- extremely difficult to overcome it.

Haruka knew. He struggled with it all the time.

"He's untrustworthy," Sugino said flatly. "He lies all the time. Deny that if you can!"

Youko hesitated and scratched at an ear. "Well... Kan-chan's just irresponsible, he doesn't like working-- Yeah, okay, he has some pretty terrible habits."

Triumphant, the tengu stood and pumped a fist, eyes alight. "You see?! This is only part of the reason why when I catch that playboy making eyes at Muu-chan--"

"Muu?"

Haruka interrupted. He didn't know why he was talking, but at least his was an opinion that might have some ability to silence this constant quarreling. "It takes a big heart to forgive. Myself, Sugino. Kantarou has done that time and again. Can you stop muttering behind his back and wait for him to return from his business before ?"

Sugino was startled, looked at his flat, serious eyes and sat down again heavily, looking a little self-conscious. He muttered, "You've changed, Onikui."

"I think it's sweet." The kitsune was watching him with soft, strange eyes. "Haruka-chan can be sentimental too."

Sullenly, Sugino insisted, "Just eat your grubs."

Youko sighed and shoved a grub in her mouth reluctantly. Haruka thought about darting for the window again. It would feel good to fly away. Especially right now...

[shunka-shuutou.livejournal.com]

*waves* Um, hi! I'm just another lurker passingby. =)

Goofy/Aerith: rain
Donald, Kairi: magic
Sora, Donald, Goofy: chocobos (inspired by playing FFXII :D)

Sora, Donald, Goofy: "Racing Stripes"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Sora tentatively approached the giant bird, which loomed over him a little unsettlingly. He glanced back over his shoulder, but Donald and Goofy both seemed enthusiastic -- from a safe distance. For a long moment he and the bird just stared at each other, and then it ducked its head and butted at his hand, making a curious warbling sound. "Ah," Sora said, almost startled, "that's right, I brought greens for you."

He held them out and the bird happily snapped them out of his palm.

It's friendly! Sora thought, cheered by this discovery. He waved over his more reserved companions, and they rushed to pet and admire the creature, which preened and chewed on the herbs.

"So now what do I do with it?" he asked.

Donald said skeptically, "Jiminy said you have to race with it."

"Ya gotta race from there to there," Goofy said, looking around and pointing. "An' in ten seconds or less!"

Long experience had taught Sora that Jiminy did not always take physical possibility into account when forming his requests, so it was very hesitantly that he turned to observe the track Goofy indicated. He looked up, up, up at the starting point... and far, far, far across the Calm Lands at the ending point.

"...ten seconds?" Sora echoed. "Unless this -- chocobo is as fast as our gummi ship, is that even possible?"

"The record is eleven seconds," Donald reminded him, folding his arms over his chest.

Goofy said slowly, "An'... There's supposed ta be balloons on the race track, and if you grab one, you get a second off your time! But hittin' anything takes a second away."

Sora looked at the chocobo, which was busily burrowing at his hand as if hoping there would be more. "Okay," he said slowly. "I get practice runs, right?" Did he get a saddle or something? "I've never ridden-- anything before, really."

"I'll give ya a boost!" Goofy said eagerly, ignoring or overlooking this comment. He hunkered down and gathered his hands together to form a step for Sora to hop up on.

He could have made the jump himself (he was good at jumping! why couldn't it have been a jumping contest) but he accepted the help and unsteadily directed himself over the chocobo's back, nervous and expecting it to bolt at any second. But the bird stood still while he got positioned, fluttering its wings expectantly.

After a beat, just clinging to its feathers and learning his balance, Sora felt comfortable sitting up, and he sighed a little with relief. This wouldn't be so bad.

"Good luck, Sora!" Donald cried, but the loud sound startled the chocobo, which rose up and made its strange wark!! sound again and then bolted.

At the very least, that experience made Sora realize believe that it was, indeed, possible for a chocobo to cross that distance in under ten seconds.

[hiroki92.livejournal.com]

*delurks :D*

Ansem, Riku: Memories(IXIII)

Ansem, Riku: "Family Night" (IXIII)

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

"Mom used to make this all the time, but not like this, right?"

Ansem nodded, a little reserved. "Well, she served it over rice, and I suppose she used... different flavorings, perhaps. It really doesn't taste the same. This is much tangier."

Riku shifted his stir-fry around a little with his fork. It was very good, actually. Everything Mickey made was very good. "Do we have a recipe?" he asked neutrally. "Maybe I could learn to make it that way."

After a beat, the older man grinned at him, slightly rueful. "I'm afraid all you have is my memory. If you want to try over the weekend, I'll do my best to remember what she did?"

They had both arrived home late, Ansem from work and Riku from a movie with his friends, to find that someone (Mickey, it could only be him) had cooked them dinner and left it simmering on the stove. He had also, evidently, stolen Ansem's pager, and switched the phones to silent. There would be no work, no interruptions. Tonight it was just a father, a son, and stir-fry.

That never happened.

"Mom didn't make it with broccoli," Riku added. It was a little awkward to keep talking about it, like maybe it was twisting a dagger in both of them, but-- well, it was hard for him to remember sometimes. This had been his favorite meal, and when some detail came to mind, he just wanted to... get it out there. Make the memory fresh for both of them.

Ansem said, "You wouldn't like it if Mickey made it like she did."

Stop dissecting me. Riku didn't say anything, but he kept eating.

After a long pause, Ansem's lips turned up in a sentimental smile. "Actually, you know... Maybe she did write down a recipe. Remember Valentine's Day?"

Not very well; it had been once a year and Riku hadn't been very old when she died. He shook his head.

"She wasn't very good with candy, so we didn't have any of that. Instead she would... write these little notes, and leave them hidden around the house, and make us search for them, like Easter egg hunting." The memory was real for him; he set down his fork and smiled, eyes faraway. "They would start with, 'You know that I love you because...' and then she would have a reason, but not always a logical one. Like, 'I love you because I'm already saving up for something special for your birthday,' but also, 'I love you because of my home-style mashed potatoes,' and then she would have the recipe written down."

Riku was smiling, too, at the end of it. "...she was kind of a character, huh?"

"One of a kind," Ansem agreed gently.

After dinner, when they were doing the dishes, Ansem hovered over him a little, anxious, and then finally steeled himself to lean in and kiss Riku on the forehead.

[zorranegra.livejournal.com]

*appears from the shadows >.> <.<*

Larxene/Roxas: Motherly
Xigbar, Roxas: Hazing
Roxas, King Mickey: Prejudice

Larxene/Marluxia, Larxene/Roxas: "Serve the Queen"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Marluxia describes it this way: there are two thrones in his hall, and they are occupied. He is on one, his queen on the other. There is also a boy in this hall. He sits at Marluxia's feet and he listens and he learns, mentored at arm's length from his royal father and mother. Someday the boy will take a throne, but that day is far in the future, and there can always be another boy, if it should come to that.

Larxene liked it when Marluxia said it, but many things sounded appealing when Marluxia said them, and in practice she wasn't sure she trusted him. When he took Roxas under his wing with a paternal benevolence, she was very aware of the possibility that Roxas would be the new favorite, get all of Marluxia's favor and attention, and that-- she wouldn't bear that, not after all they'd done as a team. That would not be allowed. In her mind she was already thinking up ways to get rid of the problem... most of them violent, and cruel, and messy. With Roxas gone, she was certain that Marluxia would understand why and remedy his mistake.

But he was cleverer than she'd credited, her king. When Larxene wanted him, Marluxia was there. When Larxene needed reassurance and pretty words, Marluxia was there. And when she wanted something, Marluxia gave it to her, whatever else he might have been doing. Roxas was there, yes, but he was at arm's length. Marluxia expected him to learn independently, without constant guidance, and if he didn't... 'there could always be another boy,' right?

Larxene grew comfortable with the new hierarchy, more secure, and Roxas became... an amusement, rather than a rival. If Marluxia was so set on the father role, perhaps she should take up the mother role?

"Come here," she said one day when she was bored, and Roxas approached her, eyes shadowed. There was something entertaining about it; lounging on the bed, playing at being concerned. "How was your day?"

Roxas said simply, "I have nothing to complain about."

Smart boy. Larxene purred, "And your education?"

"Marluxia--"

"Ah ah ah," she scolded, and waited.

"...The Superior says that soon, he may be interested in appointing me lieutenant general of our storm forces," Roxas told her, his gaze on hers.

Under me! Her lips stretched into a grin. "That will be a good day for us all," she said, sweetly, and beckoned him closer. She was in a good mood and wanted someone to share it with, and Marluxia was, sadly, not present at the moment.

When Roxas was standing by the side of her divan, Larxene grabbed his coat and pulled him down closer to her. "You may have a kiss for your reward," she announced, and crushed her lips to his.

She didn't know much about being a mother, but this wasn't so bad.

[deepfryerfire.livejournal.com]

Lurker rush!!!

Lexaeus/Xigbar: manliness
Luxord, Vexen: prissy
OXIII neophytes: sibling rivalry

Demyx: "Lesson Learned"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

Demyx has asked around, and he's the only one of the younger members of the Organization who remembers what it was like to have a brother. (Although Luxord had sisters; who knows what those are like? The Dancers all treat one another like sisters and they never have the kind of problems Demyx associates with brothers -- noogies, stolen food, teasing to the point of cruelty, withering condescension, that sort of thing.)

So Demyx was the only one who knew what brothers were like, and so he was the only one who recognized that really, they were all like a pile of rowdy brothers fighting to be the favorite.

It didn't take a genius to put together what had happened before Demyx arrived. Saix had been here first, the favorite, special, and then Axel had come, and Saix was no longer special. They were the most vindictive of brothers, with each seizing any opportunity to make the other look like a fool, eager to bring about the other's downfall. Luxord affected a disinterest in their rivalry but he, too, was keeping a close eye out to see who would emerge on top -- Xemnas always seemed to prefer Saix, but that didn't mean that the authority might not shift.

Marluxia went around the other brothers entirely, targeting the parents and aiming for their good opinion, and it had won him a great deal of responsibility, over his 'brothers' as well as his seniors. Larxene, for all that she was (Demyx was told) female, was very much an integral part of the brotherly dynamic, the unspoken sidekick mentally to Marluxia's gentleman bully, the 'crony' brother, teaming up with the older and more intelligent sibling to get more attention for him-- or herself.

And Roxas, of course. The favorite, who had no need to sink to stunts to win everyone's attention.

"I've seen it all," Demyx said, nodding to himself, matter-of-fact.

The Dancers behind him swayed, looked at each other, and looked at him.

Where do you fit in? the alto one asked.

He remembered a very young Medy fighting with Kip, always wanting to be the best, to win everyone's respect -- mom's and dad's and Kip's, too. But Kip always respected him, in the end, and in Medy's heart Kip would always be the best. Demyx didn't think there was much point in struggling to be the best anymore, because the favorites were already the favorites, and struggling wouldn't change anything.

[libekory.livejournal.com]

Edits!

Saix/Axel: rail against
Sora/Namine: pure poison
Kairi/Olette: the good girls

Saix/Axel: "An Inspired Madness"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

At some point, somehow, they had slept together. Saix didn't remember how or why.

The moon had been full and thundered in his blood and dizzied his mind, made him feel drunk on the very air. The world glowed in his eyes, as though he could see the very particles of his element adrift in the air; it smelled sweet, rich and thick. He did not become drunk on it; Saix did not drink, and those times he remembered another man drinking were a sickly, nauseous sort of intoxication. This was pure, fulfilling, enriching.

He didn't remember the conversation: only that Axel was there, with an infuriating smirk, lips moving and no sounds registering. He snarled something in response and Axel laughed.

The whole night was like that, a collection of images and impressions. Pale skin shining in the surreal light, spilled red hair so intense that it was the only color unstained by the risen moon. Heat, his very veins and flesh burning in the cool air, and laughter. Always the laughter.

Then in the morning Saix woke naked on the floor. There were lingering smears of blood on the floor and shattered memories of passion. And in the morning Axel smirked at him, laughing behind glittering eyes, and there was no change; no respect, no discomfort, not even shame.

It was as though nothing had happened, except that Saix remembered it in infuriating bits and pieces.

It drove him wild.

He cornered Axel finally, grim. "What was the point of that?" he hissed.

Axel's eyes widened, all innocence. "The point of what?"

"You know full well what!" Saix hissed. "The point of last night and everything you have done since."

"Last night?" A thin smile matched the laughter hidden behind his eyes. "What exactly happened last night?"

These games again; Saix shook him, hard, until his head jerked on his skinny neck. "We had sex," he hissed, "and I want to know what was the point."

He knew that he wouldn't get an answer, he could see it in the way Axel delighted in his frustration, in the way the redhead said elaborately, "Sex? With you? Why would I have done something like that?"

Saix slammed him into the wall, snarling, but this rage-- it only played into his game, only pleased the sly bastard further. He forced himself to step back, to hiss, "Enjoy your games. They're all you have left without your dignity."

But in the end it was Axel laughing at his back, bringing to mind broken half-recalled memories of that single night. They teased at his mind, haunted him with something he hadn't wanted, hadn't asked for, and now could never get back.

[madfnorder.livejournal.com]

To save you from the evils of Rexxar, Brann Bronzebeard, I offer up a trio with the same prompt.

Last Dreamer: Cadian, Graham
Another Side: Namine, Axel
Symphonia: Lloyd, Colette, Raine

And the prompt is- Education.

Cadian, Graham: "An Education in the Universe"

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

The others often gathered around the campfire and talked about inane things; nostalgic or light-hearted. It was their time to forget the oddities that happened in the light of day. Graham liked to listen in on them, his eyes wide and avid as he drew all their stories into them, porous sponge eager for the new substance.

Cadian did not like to let him listen to them -- it was all nonsense, idle chatter, much of it revolting flirtation, and all-around a waste of Graham's valuable abilities. He drew the boy aside most nights.

"That monster we saw today in the Dreaming Ways," he murmured. "What was it? It looked like a, like a..." Words failed him.

Graham sighed a little, visibly thinking, This again, and Cadian couldn't have cared less what he thought, really, not as long as he explained. "Do you know the old saying, a butterfly that dreams of being a man?"

"No," Cadian said impatiently. "Is that even an old saying? That's absurdity. Do butterflies even know what men truly are? The comparative size seems to suggest--"

"It was a butterfly," Graham told him, solemn, "that had dreamed of being a man."

He should boycott just because of that ridiculous assertion, and for a moment he was tempted to. His professors and mentors would never have been so deliberately dense, so unnecessarily opaque as this boy.

Instead he said, "Tell me why. What is it about the Dreaming that changed it? I thought a Dreamer was required to use that energy."

Graham tilted his head, and brightened. "Let's at least get Harrow over here. He could probably use the education--"

"No," Cadian said sharply, and Graham looked back at him, annoyed.

The objection was reflexive, and Cadian took a moment to gather his faculties and explain himself. Graham had created Harrow, but Cadian was his master (one of them, anyway, but he preferred to think of Harrow's coddling that creature as a phase he would grow out of; she had no idea how to treat servants) and felt a certain responsibility to the giant, a certain... protectiveness, perhaps.

Harrow could protect him from attacks, from people and wild things, but Cadian would protect him as well, and he knew as well as anyone that the brave and unfaltering warrior was terrified blind of the chaos from which he had been fashioned whole, mere weeks ago.

"Harrow knows enough about the universe," Cadian said briskly. "It's in his bones, he recognizes it on an instinctive level. What he needs to be taught, I will tutor him."

Graham tilted his head, considering that, and nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But at least let me get Adele. She'll want to hear!"

Damnation, the fates would never reward him for a kindness. Ah well. Better to suffer the bitch than to put his guardian through more suffering on his behalf.

[musexmoirai.livejournal.com]

If the challenge's not closed yet and you're still accepting suggestions from lurkers... :)

Axel, Kairi: We've got something in common
Donald, Goofy: Treasure hunting (IXIII)

Mini-drabble: Axel, Kairi

[kay-willow.livejournal.com]

He'd said that they had a lot in common, but now that he had found her and dragged her with him into the darkness, she knew better than to believe that. The redheaded man had no concern for her health or well-being, no interest in her happiness; he was fixated on something else to the exclusion of all other things.

He hadn't lied, though. They did both want to see their friends again.

But she would never have wanted Sora back if it meant sacrificing others to do it. And Sora wouldn't have wanted it either.

So in the end, they didn't even have that in common.