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drabble roundup - Kingdom Hearts (ii: AU)
Judgmental
Tidus, Rould, Riku . 1,193 words . Ivalice AU . written for admantius_art
Tidus Zanarkand's Judge Training Journal (NOT a diary, shut up Rould)
Day One:
Armor is hot.
Day Two:
Armor is hot AND itchy.
Day Three:
Armor is hot, itchy, and sticks in uncomfortable-
"Give that back!"
Tidus snatched the leatherbound journal out of Rould's hands, scrambling to check what he'd written. It wasn't bad, probably what he would've written anyway, but it was the principle of the thing and Rould was cackling.
"You've the most boring diary in the world," his friend proclaimed, looking damn proud of himself and puffing out his chest in a very manly display of prowess. It was lost on his present company - Tidus, and the only other new recruit, a very pale slim boy that so far hadn't talked much.
There were rumors floating around that he had Viera in his blood, because of the white hair, but Tidus knew that was a load of tosh. He'd seen Viera, back when he still lived with his uncle in Balfonheim. Back when his uncle had still been alive.
No, he'd seen Viera. Riku wasn't one of them. His hair was too soft, too fine, and his face too narrow. Tidus's money was on Nalbina - literally. Rould never could resist a bet.
Speaking of Rould, his idiot friend was trying to chat Riku up - again - and not like that - well maybe, he couldn't tell with Archadians - and anyway, it wasn't going to work. Tidus had tried every method of cajoling to get the guy out of his shell (or at least, every method he'd been able to think of in the last three days), but the guy remained as still and silent as a ghost.
Tidus wondered what he was doing here. Why the Judges? Why Archades?
But, he figured, in the privacy of his own head, sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes they make you, pound with their hands until you're putty, until you flow into the right shape and bend the way they want you to.
"Rould, leave him alone," Tidus said, flashing a grin but knowing it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned forward then, tried to catch Riku's eyes - and to his surprise, he did, they caught and held fast. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. We're just a pair of loudmouths, ignore us. But if you ever need a friend..." and something shifted, then, in atoms rather than inches, the barest hint of a flicker in the eyes, "...just know that we're here."
There was a long pause - the calm before the storm of Rould's indignation, probably - but then, just as faintly, Riku nodded. And it clicked, then. They were friends now, and friends had each other's backs. They fit. And whatever had brought them to this point in their lives, they'd be together, from here on out.
House Colors
Braig/Even . 668 words . Hogwarts AU . written for willowanderer
They were the polar opposites of the Ravenclaw House. Even decided this, right after he'd decided that Braig was a twat and that this year, like all the other years, was going to be spent holed up in a corner of the library with his nose in his book until his proclaimed arch-nemesis (Braig's proclamation, not his) gave up and left him alone.
Even didn't even understand why Braig had been sorted into Ravenclaw at all. He passed all his classes, at least, but more than once Even had caught sight of Braig leaning over his best friend Dilan's chair and begging to let him copy his homework. Dilan must be sympathetic, somewhere in there, or Braig probably would've failed out already. So Even thought.
It's the sixth year and it's supposed to be better, having less classes with more content and he'd assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that he would still be classed in his age range. Surely the seventh-year NEWT students had different things to learn?
Apparently not. Braig was in his NEWT-level astronomy class.
Thus, the realization that this year would be hell, and all in the first five seconds of walking into the classroom.
Because after those five seconds, Braig saw him, and his face lit up (in glee, he's sadistic, this was going to be awful) and he bounded over. "Even!"
Even's face shut off like a door slamming shut. "What."
"Thank god you're here."
So you can copy my notes, too?
"Finally, there's going to be someone intelligent in the class."
Wait. What?
If he saw the dazed look on Even's fae, Braig didn't comment, just flashed another grin and grabbed the books out of Even's hands (like he was trying to be helpful - or - or maybe - maybe he was trying to be helpful) and towed him over to a pair of desks by the window. "Here, sit here. You can see the board and when the Professor's being dull, which is, you know, always, you can stare out the window."
Even fell into his seat and felt a little bit like his entire world had been turned on its axis.
"It moves pretty slow for a NEWT class, but it's better than Charms, god, I wanted to shoot myself. So easy."
Oh yes, he thought faintly. This year was going to be hell. He was going to have to re-learn everything he'd ever taken for granted, it was going to be so different but maybe, if he let himself believe, it might turn out to be wonderful.
+
Braig leaned over the back of Dilan's chair. "Dilaaan," he whined. "Let me copy your homework."
Dilan snorted loudly. "Right. That's a no."
"Come on, you're almost done!"
"And have me destroy your bloody perfect track record?" He rolled his eyes at his best friend, who danced around to perch on the arm of the chair. "I'm not that stupid, I'd have to put up with your bitching."
"It's too much effort to do it myself." But he was looking down at Dilan's careful notations, his eyes quick and calculating as always. "You dropped a decimal, there."
"Fuck off!"
"If you let me copy your homework I promise I'll fix all your stupid mistakes!"
"Get out!" Dilan whacked Braig's shoulder with the textbook, and Braig laughed. He loved his friend, truly he did, but there was a time and a place to be a know-it-all and this wasn't one of them. "Go bother someone else. Or do the homework yourself."
"Thinking about it," he said, but his eyes were faraway - he was staring up at the boys' staircase, and Dilan knew what that meant. He wasn't thinking about his homework at all.
House of the Dead
Percy/Nico, Sora . 521 words . Percy Jackson crossover, zombie apocalypse AU . written for citiesfalling
He barricaded himself inside a - shed, yeah, or something like that. It had been used to store old weaponry and bits of broken chariots, though what use any of them would ever be, Percy had no idea.
Only one of their little group had made it. His stomach twisted, he had been sure there were at least five when they'd set out. Shit. He was balls at this. But no one really taught them how to do this, no one had ever said 'you should train for a zombie apocalypse, just in case'.
Though in retrospect, he should have known better. Nico had been trying to warn him.
Shit. He couldn't think about Nico right now. Right now, he had to be strong.
"I'm Percy," he said, out of breath and really trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't hear anything outside - too quiet came to mind, and - he pushed all of it away. Focused on the kid next to him.
Well, okay, a little older than a kid, he amended. Okay, at least as old as Nico had been - and with the same sort of boyish charm, the kind that never left.
But he wasn't thinking about Nico.
"Um, I know," the boy said, laughing. Wait, laughing? Yes, laughing, and smiling like the sun in the middle of hell. Percy wondered if the kid did drugs, or if he was just retarded. "Everyone knows you, Percy."
Oh. Well. Yeah, okay, so maybe introducing himself hadn't been the smartest plan, but - "Right," he added, with a little laugh of his own. Maybe he was a little retarded, too. "So, uh, what's yours?"
"I'm Sora." There was that smile again. Percy felt his heart flip, quite suddenly. He'd never seen anyone smile like that. Gods, that smile could probably cure cancer. "You know, it's really an honor."
"What?" He'd gotten distracted.
"You." Sora held a hand out, and Percy, still numb with some kind of shock because this wasn't actually happening, was it? He'd entered the second layer of the dream (the first was the whole zombie-apocalypse thing in the first place) where boys smiled like heaven and wanted to shake his hand, in a shed, when the world was coming down around their ears.
He did what any reasonably braindead demigod would do under the circumstances. He shook his hand.
"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather die with," he said, and the walls of the fantasy came crashing down.
They weren't going to die. There was no more death, and that's what made this the end of everything. No more Underworld. No more Elysium.
No more Nico.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said, his voice quiet and dark as the grave itself. "I'll be waiting at the gates to Elysium, you know that. We'll meet again. Promise me we'll meet again, promise me you'll be there."
Percy felt the last illusion inside him breaking.
Tidus, Rould, Riku . 1,193 words . Ivalice AU . written for admantius_art
Tidus Zanarkand's Judge Training Journal (NOT a diary, shut up Rould)
Day One:
Armor is hot.
Day Two:
Armor is hot AND itchy.
Day Three:
Armor is hot, itchy, and sticks in uncomfortable-
"Give that back!"
Tidus snatched the leatherbound journal out of Rould's hands, scrambling to check what he'd written. It wasn't bad, probably what he would've written anyway, but it was the principle of the thing and Rould was cackling.
"You've the most boring diary in the world," his friend proclaimed, looking damn proud of himself and puffing out his chest in a very manly display of prowess. It was lost on his present company - Tidus, and the only other new recruit, a very pale slim boy that so far hadn't talked much.
There were rumors floating around that he had Viera in his blood, because of the white hair, but Tidus knew that was a load of tosh. He'd seen Viera, back when he still lived with his uncle in Balfonheim. Back when his uncle had still been alive.
No, he'd seen Viera. Riku wasn't one of them. His hair was too soft, too fine, and his face too narrow. Tidus's money was on Nalbina - literally. Rould never could resist a bet.
Speaking of Rould, his idiot friend was trying to chat Riku up - again - and not like that - well maybe, he couldn't tell with Archadians - and anyway, it wasn't going to work. Tidus had tried every method of cajoling to get the guy out of his shell (or at least, every method he'd been able to think of in the last three days), but the guy remained as still and silent as a ghost.
Tidus wondered what he was doing here. Why the Judges? Why Archades?
But, he figured, in the privacy of his own head, sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes they make you, pound with their hands until you're putty, until you flow into the right shape and bend the way they want you to.
"Rould, leave him alone," Tidus said, flashing a grin but knowing it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned forward then, tried to catch Riku's eyes - and to his surprise, he did, they caught and held fast. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. We're just a pair of loudmouths, ignore us. But if you ever need a friend..." and something shifted, then, in atoms rather than inches, the barest hint of a flicker in the eyes, "...just know that we're here."
There was a long pause - the calm before the storm of Rould's indignation, probably - but then, just as faintly, Riku nodded. And it clicked, then. They were friends now, and friends had each other's backs. They fit. And whatever had brought them to this point in their lives, they'd be together, from here on out.
House Colors
Braig/Even . 668 words . Hogwarts AU . written for willowanderer
They were the polar opposites of the Ravenclaw House. Even decided this, right after he'd decided that Braig was a twat and that this year, like all the other years, was going to be spent holed up in a corner of the library with his nose in his book until his proclaimed arch-nemesis (Braig's proclamation, not his) gave up and left him alone.
Even didn't even understand why Braig had been sorted into Ravenclaw at all. He passed all his classes, at least, but more than once Even had caught sight of Braig leaning over his best friend Dilan's chair and begging to let him copy his homework. Dilan must be sympathetic, somewhere in there, or Braig probably would've failed out already. So Even thought.
It's the sixth year and it's supposed to be better, having less classes with more content and he'd assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that he would still be classed in his age range. Surely the seventh-year NEWT students had different things to learn?
Apparently not. Braig was in his NEWT-level astronomy class.
Thus, the realization that this year would be hell, and all in the first five seconds of walking into the classroom.
Because after those five seconds, Braig saw him, and his face lit up (in glee, he's sadistic, this was going to be awful) and he bounded over. "Even!"
Even's face shut off like a door slamming shut. "What."
"Thank god you're here."
So you can copy my notes, too?
"Finally, there's going to be someone intelligent in the class."
Wait. What?
If he saw the dazed look on Even's fae, Braig didn't comment, just flashed another grin and grabbed the books out of Even's hands (like he was trying to be helpful - or - or maybe - maybe he was trying to be helpful) and towed him over to a pair of desks by the window. "Here, sit here. You can see the board and when the Professor's being dull, which is, you know, always, you can stare out the window."
Even fell into his seat and felt a little bit like his entire world had been turned on its axis.
"It moves pretty slow for a NEWT class, but it's better than Charms, god, I wanted to shoot myself. So easy."
Oh yes, he thought faintly. This year was going to be hell. He was going to have to re-learn everything he'd ever taken for granted, it was going to be so different but maybe, if he let himself believe, it might turn out to be wonderful.
+
Braig leaned over the back of Dilan's chair. "Dilaaan," he whined. "Let me copy your homework."
Dilan snorted loudly. "Right. That's a no."
"Come on, you're almost done!"
"And have me destroy your bloody perfect track record?" He rolled his eyes at his best friend, who danced around to perch on the arm of the chair. "I'm not that stupid, I'd have to put up with your bitching."
"It's too much effort to do it myself." But he was looking down at Dilan's careful notations, his eyes quick and calculating as always. "You dropped a decimal, there."
"Fuck off!"
"If you let me copy your homework I promise I'll fix all your stupid mistakes!"
"Get out!" Dilan whacked Braig's shoulder with the textbook, and Braig laughed. He loved his friend, truly he did, but there was a time and a place to be a know-it-all and this wasn't one of them. "Go bother someone else. Or do the homework yourself."
"Thinking about it," he said, but his eyes were faraway - he was staring up at the boys' staircase, and Dilan knew what that meant. He wasn't thinking about his homework at all.
House of the Dead
Percy/Nico, Sora . 521 words . Percy Jackson crossover, zombie apocalypse AU . written for citiesfalling
He barricaded himself inside a - shed, yeah, or something like that. It had been used to store old weaponry and bits of broken chariots, though what use any of them would ever be, Percy had no idea.
Only one of their little group had made it. His stomach twisted, he had been sure there were at least five when they'd set out. Shit. He was balls at this. But no one really taught them how to do this, no one had ever said 'you should train for a zombie apocalypse, just in case'.
Though in retrospect, he should have known better. Nico had been trying to warn him.
Shit. He couldn't think about Nico right now. Right now, he had to be strong.
"I'm Percy," he said, out of breath and really trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't hear anything outside - too quiet came to mind, and - he pushed all of it away. Focused on the kid next to him.
Well, okay, a little older than a kid, he amended. Okay, at least as old as Nico had been - and with the same sort of boyish charm, the kind that never left.
But he wasn't thinking about Nico.
"Um, I know," the boy said, laughing. Wait, laughing? Yes, laughing, and smiling like the sun in the middle of hell. Percy wondered if the kid did drugs, or if he was just retarded. "Everyone knows you, Percy."
Oh. Well. Yeah, okay, so maybe introducing himself hadn't been the smartest plan, but - "Right," he added, with a little laugh of his own. Maybe he was a little retarded, too. "So, uh, what's yours?"
"I'm Sora." There was that smile again. Percy felt his heart flip, quite suddenly. He'd never seen anyone smile like that. Gods, that smile could probably cure cancer. "You know, it's really an honor."
"What?" He'd gotten distracted.
"You." Sora held a hand out, and Percy, still numb with some kind of shock because this wasn't actually happening, was it? He'd entered the second layer of the dream (the first was the whole zombie-apocalypse thing in the first place) where boys smiled like heaven and wanted to shake his hand, in a shed, when the world was coming down around their ears.
He did what any reasonably braindead demigod would do under the circumstances. He shook his hand.
"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather die with," he said, and the walls of the fantasy came crashing down.
They weren't going to die. There was no more death, and that's what made this the end of everything. No more Underworld. No more Elysium.
No more Nico.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said, his voice quiet and dark as the grave itself. "I'll be waiting at the gates to Elysium, you know that. We'll meet again. Promise me we'll meet again, promise me you'll be there."
Percy felt the last illusion inside him breaking.