(Very belated explanation and publicizing of what I’ve been involved in lately)
The Geek Show is competing in PianoFight’s Shortlived competition with our piece: No Country For Old Henchmen
($5 off with promo code “forthewin”)
(Very belated update)
WE WON!!!
Now we’re moving onto the finals, August 22-25.
SO EXCITED 😀
TICKETS FOR THE FINAL ROUND GO ON SALE AUGUST 8TH AT 12 NOON
(use promo code “winintheend” for a discount)
A/N: Continues from here
~
Zim wakes up on the ground, aching and stiff and what he imagines having a hangover is like, but he wakes up and that’s all that matters. He breathes and regrets it, feels like he’s burned his lungs. Feels like he’s burned everything really, even air seems to scrape against his raw nerves.
He struggles to turn, spots Kevin and painstakingly crawls that way. His fingers shake checking on his best friend–what if Zim was too late? What if the curse had hooked itself too deeply? What if taking the curse from Kevin killed him anyway?–but there is warm skin and a steady pulse and all that there is room for in his heart is relief.
“Impressive, octant,” says a voice Zim doesn’t recognize. He turns toward the sound even though his muscles screech in protest, he is tired from even that minimal effort, panting, pressing his cheek into the ground.
There are an unfamiliar pair of shoes not even a yard away, “Risky as fuck and terribly inefficient, but impressive nonetheless,” says the person attached to the unfamiliar shoes.
The unfamiliar legs bend, lowering an unfamiliar body and an unfamiliar head with an unfamiliar face attached so that Zim can see the stranger.
Unsurprisingly, Zim asks, “Who are you?” Voice rasping out from his damaged throat.
The stranger shrugs, dismisses his question, asks one of her own, “What made you think you could survive the curse, octant?”
This time, Zim shrugs. Or tries to. More of an attempt to twitch his shoulder, leading into a full body flinch, which causes him to groan in pain into the dirt.
The stranger sighs as if Zim were purposely avoiding her question. As if this were all a ploy to get out of it.
She presses a to his forehead, mutters something too low, too quick for him to parse, and a cool wave washes over him. No more pain.
“Better?” The stranger asks, and Zim nods, too surprised to be anything but truthful. “Now if you don’t mind, octant, answer my question.”
That’s the third time the stranger has called him that, but he keeps that confusion to himself.
“I didn’t,” he croaks. At her confused furrowed brow, he elaborates, “I didn’t think.”
Rather than look skeptical, as the doc might, or irritated, like Belinda, or even horrified, as Kevin will be when Zim tells him what happened, the stranger huffs a quick, soft laugh. A smile curves her mouth, almost fond, “Yeah, why am I not surprised?”
Zim thinks that’s something he would like to know, too, actually, but the stranger continues–both answering and confusing him further.
“Oh, octant, you’re just like your mother.”
MY AUGUST IS ALREADY SO EXHAUSTING AND IT’S ONLY THE FIRST O_O
But, also, this is what I’m acting in! If you’re in the area, check it out here
The curse is spreading through Kevin’s body–poison coursing through his veins–and the only counter Zim and the doc have managed to find is death of the host. That’s one shitty cure.
But Zim’s been able to burn it away, use the hosts’ hearts as foundation, turn his penchant for literal fire into a more figurative, ethereal fire. He has an idea, a desperate, foolish hope, but if he can’t save Kevin then what’s the point of doing all that work? All that research? What’s the point of being magic if he can’t protect the people he cares about?
Doc Kaiza isn’t here to stop him–she’s back at the clinic, more research and calling on her contacts, too slow for what matters–and so it’s just Zim and Kevin and the eldritch entity steadily, thoroughly, working its way through Kevin’s being.
If Zim can’t stop it here and now–before Kaiza makes the call, the final decision to sacrifice the one for the whole of humanity–then Kevin will die. One way or another.
One way or another, Zim is going to prevent that.
“You can’t make fun of me for this,” Zim says to whatever is left of Kevin in Kevin’s body, “For at least two weeks, okay?”
Kevin doesn’t say anything, because the eldritch entity has already taken control of that part of him–an hour ago it made a horrifying screech which shook the town–but his nose crinkles in a familiar tic of confusion, and that’s good. That’s great. That’s all Zim needed.
So he darts forward, shoves a hand over Kevin’s nose–because that at least, in part, is still his, still human, even as the rest of his him lashes out with more power and wrongness than should be possible–and waits for the body to open its mouth. Either to breathe, if it still has to, or to screech once more, defending its terrible existence.
When it does, Zim seals his mouth over it. Less like a kiss and more like he’s trying to literally eat Kevin’s face, a giant bite intended to swallow down more than the chili cheese fries from the Tommy’s Burgers on Orchard Street.
The entity shrieks and it travels directly into Zim, down his throat and into his lungs, the force of it rattling and ominous. But Zim doesn’t stop. He inhales, he pulls, from Kevin into himself, curse drawn within bronchioles to capillaries to heart where his internal fire lives.
Kevin’s body drops to the ground, and Zim would check on him but it’s not done yet. The fight’s still going.
The curse is no longer in Kevin. That’s good, that’s the best thing that could happen. Now Kevin won’t have to die.
Now the curse is in Zim.
He doesn’t scream. Doesn’t have the extra energy to scream. Has to focus on damming the flow, shoring up his very being because the eldritch entity is hungry and not one for mercy.
Zim’s magic manifests itself as fire. Zim can use the hearts of hosts to burn away the curse. Zim’s magic lives in his heart.
He will burn the curse out of himself.
Survival is secondary.
~
A/N: I have a few more ask box things you said prompts in my ask box and I swear I will get to them, but considering my really bad writing habits lately I figured something unrelated to the ask box event was better than nothing?
This isn’t “canon” Ode to 11010201–if anything can be considered canon for that WIP original ‘verse–but I have an idea and needed to write it, but I didn’t even get to the scene that I wanted to but I needed to stop here because it’s nearly four in the morning and I have work in a few hours so hopefully I’ll still remember what I wanted to get to after I sleep and do stuff later today.
Also, maybe don’t get your hopes up about my writing schedule resuming normal levels because I was cast in an upcoming Bindlestiff show even though I was only supposed to design lights so I will be busy again.
Ahhhhhhhhhh.
Stars Also Dream, 56) things you said in the spur of the moment
“One day, I’m gonna fly,” he says, full of conviction, eyes trained upwards at a flock of birds soaring through the sky. He’s not there yet, but he will be.
Kyougi throws a piece of rubble at him, Santa yelps in over exaggerated pain. “Your feet are on the ground, which is where your eyes should be too. The faster we get this done, the better.”
Chinatsu, far more dutiful, gives a soft chuckle at her teammates’ antics nonetheless. The disapproving tongue click that their sensei gives is less fond.
Properly scolded, Santa turns his gaze downward, resuming his share of their D-rank. “One day, I’m gonna rescue a princess,” Santa mutters, as he sorts through the debris. If he can keep him and his team distracted maybe they won’t have to think about what they’re doing. He knows it’s not something he should be complaining about–rebuilding in the weeks after the Kyuubi Attack is important, sure, that doesn’t mean he can’t wish for a more exciting mission.
Or at least one that isn’t so depressing.
“As if,” Kyougi says, rolling her eyes, but still playing along, “We’re going to be stuck with smugglers or farmers all through our career.”
“Hey! Don’t besmirch farmers! Your clan head’s wife is a farmer!” he points out.
“No, Yoshino-sama is a shinobi. Her parents were farmers. As are a good percentage of all of our clans,” Kyougi argues, logically and methodically.
“Yeah! Exactly!” Santa agrees, before pausing, thinking, then, “Wait, what?”
“There aren’t a lot of princesses to be rescued,” Kyougi continues, “And I doubt we’ll ever be chosen to go on a mission to do the rescuing.”
“Not with that attitude,” Santa snipes back.
Tokumei-sensei clicks his tongue again, before pointing at a fallen wall, aiming them wordlessly as if they were simple beasts of burden. Still, he and Kyougi fall silent once more as they and Chinatsu head in that direction.
Chinatsu lifts up the wall while he and Kyougi reach underneath. Grimly, they pull the body out, another black ringed scroll to be sorted through later and returned to any next of kin.
They’re quiet for a while after. Miserable and quiet, which is probably what their sensei prefers.
Chinatsu is the one to break the silence, “I’d like to fly someday, too.“
~
A/N: A bit of a prologue to Stars Also Dream in which these three genin have no idea what’s in store for them. The spreadsheet of DoS timeline and OCs was very helpful–and given how long it took me to address this prompt even with such a short fill, I really needed as much help as I could get! O_O
Kyougi Nara is an SQ original. Chinatsu Akimichi is dona’s. And their awful Hyuuga sensei is Pepperdoken’s.
I had to look up who this pokemon was, anon, because I didn’t know Yamask–who has the most existentially horrifying description ever–EVOLVES INTO SOMETHING ELSE?!
As is, given the whole Edo Tensei, revive the Hokage and summon their coffins during the Konoha Chuunn exams, it’d probably be Orochimaru who has the Cofagrigus
(Very belated explanation and publicizing of what I’ve been involved in lately)
The Geek Show is competing in PianoFight’s Shortlived competition with our piece: No Country For Old Henchmen
($5 off with promo code “forthewin”)
(Very belated update)
Now we’re moving onto the finals, August 22-25.
SO EXCITED 😀
(Very belated explanation and publicizing of what I’ve been involved in lately)
The Geek Show is competing in PianoFight’s Shortlived competition with our piece: No Country For Old Henchmen
($5 off with promo code “forthewin”)
Remember to Sleep, 47) things you said in a hotel room
Jiraiya’s at the hotel bar–and, yeah, maybe it’s a little early in the day for a drink or three, but who’s checking?–when he sees it: the briefest glimpse of all too familiar blonde hair.
He shakes his head, mutters to himself, “Don’t get your hopes up,” and goes back to his drink. It’s impossible, what he’s thinking, and besides, there’s a pair of beautiful young ladies who look like they might appreciate some excellent company.
He signals for the bartender to send over some complimentary drinks (mimosas, apparently, not like the princess who would appreciate harder liquor) and gets ready to put on some moves.
Fifteen minutes and a double dousing of socially acceptable daytime drinks in his face later, he spots it again: bright and messy, even through the champagne and orange juice in his eyes. This is a sign, no doubt, destiny telling him to follow–why else would those lovely ladies reject his advances?
The bartender, unimpressed but dutiful, passes Jiraiya a towel to wipe his face. Taking the opportunity, he asks, “What’s going on in the ballroom?”
The bartender shrugs, “Some kind of science convention. Not too sure. I’m hoping it’s medical–doctors really know how to drink.”
Jiraiya rolls his eyes, “You’re telling me.” But that’s a sob story for a different bartender, maybe, and he’s got an entirely different blonde to chase down.
According to the signs, it is indeed ‘some kind of science convention’. More specifically, one for cybernetic augmentations and enhancements. It is, unfortunately, hauntingly familiar stomping grounds for him.
Most of the names listed for panels are old or uninteresting–one of the main reasons he’s stopped coming to these things, even if they do offer all expenses paid. How this is supposed to be about innovations when it’s the same people rehashing the same tech is beyond him–except one of the smaller rooms, practically in fine print at the bottom of the itinerary, has a name he’s never seen before.
Not new to him entirely (Nara is common enough, almost a household name given the reach of their pharmaceuticals and the fact that practically everyone is medicated these days) but definitely new to this particular arena. Cautious branching out, maybe? That would explain why they have a small room instead of space in the main ballroom.
Except when Jiraiya gets to the room listed, it’s packed. Overflowing, practically. If he weren’t who he was, and the staff at the door hadn’t recognized him, he might not have gotten in–as is, it’s a tight squeeze. Which he wouldn’t mind if it were a crowd of buxom beauties, but, alas, he is surrounded by sweaty nerds. But why is such a popular panel in such a tiny room?
Or, maybe, he should be wondering: why is this Nara panel so popular?
Except once he gets to the front–“it’s such an honor that you’re here, sir, and also a surprise. We weren’t told you’d be here, but of course you’re more than welcome. Such an honor, please, there’s VIP seating,”–even that question flees from his mind.
Because sitting just next to that (surprisingly young and pretty, nothing like that stony-faced punk Shikaku) newcomer Nara is Minato…
… but not.
That’s definitely Minato’s god-awful hair, and damned too blue eyes, but it’s in a face more like Kushina’s. That’s definitely her smile on that brat’s face, aimed with laser accuracy at the Nara girl beside him.
“What the hell is going on?”
You know, I was sure, despite being the one to submit the prompt, and knowing it would include Naruto and Jiraiya, that the blonde hair Jiraiya had seen was Tsunade’s.
The fact that it was a scientific/medical conference only made that impression stronger, and I was hooked. I was like, “Where’s Naruto coming in? Is this a ‘get Tsunade to become Hokage’ equivalent?” Edge of my seat.
Which made the reveal of the Nara room a surprise, even though it really shouldn’t have been, given the information I had available to me, lol
And now I’m wondering why was the panel so popular? I don’t remember any relevant details from the original line of fics … better re-read, lol! ^_^
I headcanon that Jiraiya is almost always thinking about Tsunade in one way or another 😀
There’s nothing really specific in previous installments that would explain why the panel is so popular, but timeline-wise I made this so that it’s after the incident which resulted in Shikamaru getting a cybernetic arm. Like, Shikako’s already had her debut in the industry, and then she got a little popular, and then she was attacked but Shikamaru got in the way such that he’s the one who got hurt instead. Then Shikako went full hermit for a while–from the community and from her family–and probably would continued doing so if it weren’t for meeting Naruto. But she’s still paranoid, so she requested one of the smaller rooms and the event coordinators were just like “whatever gets you to our convention, yes, you can have this stranger sit next to you.”
So Jiraiya is actually witnessing her comeback, but since HE’S also been out of the loop for a while (probably not long after Minato and Kushina died), he thinks she’s a complete newcomer.
Remember to Sleep, 47) things you said in a hotel room
Jiraiya’s at the hotel bar–and, yeah, maybe it’s a little early in the day for a drink or three, but who’s checking?–when he sees it: the briefest glimpse of all too familiar blonde hair.
He shakes his head, mutters to himself, “Don’t get your hopes up,” and goes back to his drink. It’s impossible, what he’s thinking, and besides, there’s a pair of beautiful young ladies who look like they might appreciate some excellent company.
He signals for the bartender to send over some complimentary drinks (mimosas, apparently, not like the princess who would appreciate harder liquor) and gets ready to put on some moves.
Fifteen minutes and a double dousing of socially acceptable daytime drinks in his face later, he spots it again: bright and messy, even through the champagne and orange juice in his eyes. This is a sign, no doubt, destiny telling him to follow–why else would those lovely ladies reject his advances?
The bartender, unimpressed but dutiful, passes Jiraiya a towel to wipe his face. Taking the opportunity, he asks, “What’s going on in the ballroom?”
The bartender shrugs, “Some kind of science convention. Not too sure. I’m hoping it’s medical–doctors really know how to drink.”
Jiraiya rolls his eyes, “You’re telling me.” But that’s a sob story for a different bartender, maybe, and he’s got an entirely different blonde to chase down.
According to the signs, it is indeed ‘some kind of science convention’. More specifically, one for cybernetic augmentations and enhancements. It is, unfortunately, hauntingly familiar stomping grounds for him.
Most of the names listed for panels are old or uninteresting–one of the main reasons he’s stopped coming to these things, even if they do offer all expenses paid. How this is supposed to be about innovations when it’s the same people rehashing the same tech is beyond him–except one of the smaller rooms, practically in fine print at the bottom of the itinerary, has a name he’s never seen before.
Not new to him entirely (Nara is common enough, almost a household name given the reach of their pharmaceuticals and the fact that practically everyone is medicated these days) but definitely new to this particular arena. Cautious branching out, maybe? That would explain why they have a small room instead of space in the main ballroom.
Except when Jiraiya gets to the room listed, it’s packed. Overflowing, practically. If he weren’t who he was, and the staff at the door hadn’t recognized him, he might not have gotten in–as is, it’s a tight squeeze. Which he wouldn’t mind if it were a crowd of buxom beauties, but, alas, he is surrounded by sweaty nerds. But why is such a popular panel in such a tiny room?
Or, maybe, he should be wondering: why is this Nara panel so popular?
Except once he gets to the front–“it’s such an honor that you’re here, sir, and also a surprise. We weren’t told you’d be here, but of course you’re more than welcome. Such an honor, please, there’s VIP seating,”–even that question flees from his mind.
Because sitting just next to that (surprisingly young and pretty, nothing like that stony-faced punk Shikaku) newcomer Nara is Minato…
… but not.
That’s definitely Minato’s god-awful hair, and damned too blue eyes, but it’s in a face more like Kushina’s. That’s definitely her smile on that brat’s face, aimed with laser accuracy at the Nara girl beside him.
“What the hell is going on?”
JackSGreyson Says 