Cross Post: Ode To 11010201, Chapter Two [incomplete] (2016-08-18)

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A/N: Next couple of days will be incomplete posts set in my Ode To 11010201 series. Most of these were written back when the series was suuuper thinly veiled Teen Wolf fanfiction. Like the characters are so recognizable even though I’ve changed their names and swapped some roles around.

original here. dated 2012-11-09.

~

She doesn’t realize several hours have passed until Zim’s father, the stranger that is her brother-in-law, returns home. It’s late, almost one in the morning. He doesn’t notice she’s there immediately–the house is mostly dark except for the muted glow of a single lamp and the television screen. She gasps, jolted out of her doze at the sound of the door shutting. That alerts him to her presence. She’s frozen in indecisive surprise, staring. He stares back, but moves quickly, flicking the light switch on. She flinches away, blinded, but stays seated. She doesn’t have much choice.

Zim is asleep, lanky limbs stretched out over both the couch and her; his calves resting in her lap as they share a blanket. They had relocated to the living room a while ago, using movies as a preemptive buffer, but the volume had been turned low not long after. Though they had kept to light topics–likes and dislikes, silly hypothetical questions, hilarious high school anecdotes–there was a connection, thriving and earnest, made. Both were eager to share and listen, conversation overlapping out of excitement, laughter cheerfully mutual, silences brief and comfortable. That is not the case now.

Blinking the spots away, her vision clears in time to show her a wary middle-aged man, jacket over what looks like pajamas? No, scrubs. He has a baseball bat in hand, cautiously at the ready. She inhales shakily, swallows the sudden lump in her throat. He seems calm, having come around the sofa and spotting the unharmed state of his son, but still–she can imagine the damage even one swing could do.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” His voice is determined and authoritative but it’s… off. This is the first time they’re speaking, but it seems as if something is lacking. He’s tired. Physically, obviously, considering the late hour. She would even tentatively guess emotionally, too, from his posture and his face. And his actions, because she’s pretty sure it’s not standard procedure to draw a weapon on someone even if they are a stranger in your home. That speaks of paranoia, extremely prepared paranoia.

Zim stirs, humming and twitching, before she can answer. He’s amazingly nonchalant considering the situation, rubbing at his eyes and sluggishly moving to a more vertical position. He ends up going too far that he’s leaning against her, pressed shoulder to shoulder. It’s notably trusting. It convinces his father to put the bat away, hidden in the umbrella stand by the door. All the while he’s murmuring, “Hey, Dad. This is Mom’s sister R, she got my letter and came earlier today to visit. We stayed in. Had sandwiches for lunch and pizza for dinner, she likes pineapple, mushroom, and black olives, too; see, it’s not weird. I forgot to wash the SUV, but I finished laundry before she arrived so I did pretty well, I think.”

The look her brother-in-law gives Zim is simultaneously relieved and exasperated. The look he gives her is strikingly blank.

“Sorry,” she blurts out reflexively, “sorry, this was completely out of the blue. I can go, it’s late, you must be exhausted; sorry,” She nudges Zim a little, he grumbles but sits up on his own, before standing. Brushing imaginary dust and not-quite-imaginary crumbs off of herself so her hands have something to do. She should probably apologize for that as well.

“Yeah,”

“Dad!”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Zim’s father–ugh, she’s terrible, she really should know what her brother-in-law’s first name is–holds a hand out to stop her exit. She freezes because, she’s not sure if he knows it, but that was the hand the baseball bat was in. Also, she’s sleepy enough that she doesn’t actually want to go outside. “I meant, yeah, I’m exhausted. But you don’t have to go. Like you said, it’s late, and I wouldn’t feel to good about you driving back to the inn now.”

“Oh, no, I walked,” If she were more aware, she’d probably slap herself on the forehead. Then again, if she were more aware she probably wouldn’t have said; that really was not the point she was meant to pick up on.

“In that case, you have to stay tonight!” Zim hops to his feet, somehow both sleepy and enthusiastic, “We’ve got a guest bedroom upstairs; well, we use it more as a storage room office sort of thing, but there’s a bed and I’ve just changed the sheets. I can lend you some clothes to sleep in, too.”

His father looks less keen on her presence; there’s no outright protesting, but she can tell. Zim’s tugging gently at the cuff of her cardigan, though, intent to guide her to the guest room; but… “Is this okay?” She’s turned toward him still, hasn’t looked away. She wonders what kind of expressions are dancing across Zim’s face at this halting, hesitating exchange.

“… Yeah,” It’s a conflicted permission; he doesn’t trust her, but he really wants to sleep, “We’ll have breakfast, late breakfast, in the morning. Later in the morning.” It is not a request.

“I’ll make waffles,” They’re making their way upstairs now, Zim guiding her to the guest bedroom–third door on the right of the hallway.

“If you don’t mind me using them, I can make cinnamon apple topping,” She offers, because her culinary skill set is limited to eggs, apples, and experiments often ending in disaster.

“That sounds awesome,” he flashes an easy grin then turns to his father, “Dad, you go ahead and sleep. I’ve got it, we’ll see you in the morning. Proper morning, when the sun’s up, even.”

“If you’re sure,” He hedges, but already heads toward the opposite end of the hallway, presumably where the master bedroom is. “G’night.” His door shuts with a soft click.

Their own sleepiness returns with a vengeance. After Zim grabs her some clothes–they’re comfortable but slightly too large, unsurprising, considering he’s is half a foot taller than her–they both settle down to sleep. Her temporary room is filled with boxes. She’s curious but decides not to snoop around; partially out of manners, partially out of exhaustion.

Maybe in the morning.

—

She’s already made a start on making breakfast, because she’s still sort of on east coast time but also her nerves have come back with a vengeance, leaving her with far too much energy to not want to do something productive. As it is, she’s been peeling and chopping some of the apples; there’s a huge bowl full of them but she’s only using six. It’s soothing, giving her hands something to do while her brain decompresses.

She didn’t actually snoop through the boxes in her temporary bedroom, but she explored the first floor of the house. From what she’s seen, it’s nice. There are hardly any doors, it’s all open archways that connect living room and kitchen and dining room into one giant space. She spotted a few things she could see that spoke of Iris, but not as many as she was expecting. It’s probably because there are two men in this house, she figures, a stark contrast to the five woman household of their adolescence.

It makes her wonder what to tell Mama, Daphne, and Zoe. If she should even say anything at all. A part of her feels guilty, since she put such a big emphasis on family yesterday. But then again, Zim was the one that wrote specifically to her, so it would be best to let him go at his own pace. Also, it makes her feel vindicated, in a sense. Smug, almost. That she’s the one he reached out to first.

—

(during breakfast, introductions)

“… Mr. Szymanski?”

“John. You’re Iris’ sister, you should call me John,” He offers his hand, “Is it–”

“Just call me R,” she interrupts. For the best, really.

—

(THE REVEAL)

Oh. That. That explains a lot. And yet. It hits her out of nowhere. She can’t. She hadn’t been expecting this. Something else. Iris is dead.

“Oh my god. I thought she-” Iris is dead. Her face is getting warm, at the top of her cheeks and around her eyes. She wants to cry. She want to hide her face. She wants muffle any sound that might come out of her mouth. She does not do the first but, ducking her head down and biting her knuckles, she does the other two.

Cross Post: Untitled HP!Post-Hogwarts Divergence (2016-08-17)

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A/N: Going to be busy for the next couple of days, so I’m (finally) setting up a queue of cross posts rather than just having a bunch of missed posts.

This one is just a short thing, but I’m fond of it nonetheless. It’s vaguely influenced by JK’s original plan for Hermione to get with Fred and the fact that I’m pretty sure Harry is gay. So Hermione and Fred get together, Harry gets with George, but Ron is still their best friend so the Golden Trio hang out a lot.

original here. dated 2014-02-10.

~

“Your husband’s brother is an idiot,” she huffs at Harry after storming in and nearly tossing her bag onto the table.

“Oi! I haven’t even done anything!” Ron protested, quickly rescuing their tray of snacks from an untimely death by bag. Harry, levitating the tea set, stifles a laugh.

“Your husband’s twin brother is an idiot,” she amends, dropping into her designated seat.

“Well, seeing as how my husband’s twin brother is your husband that says more about your taste than mine.”

~

For all that they enjoy being identical twins, confusing people and being in total synchronization, they know they are distinct, separate people. It’s not something they let many other people know, obviously, but when it’s just them they discuss it–trying but sometimes failing to understand the differences between them. It becomes clear with their choice in spouses, though Ron often plays at being exasperated–“Honestly, my two best friends? What would you have done if I only had one best friend?”–but they have his blessing.

George felt it first, perhaps not too odd, seeing as how they never really interacted with Hermione until much later in their teens. But Fred think that’s what makes it strange–not bad, necessarily–but he just can’t divorce the idea of Harry from the lost lonely boy at the train station, the small face behind a barred window, the baby of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Fred loves Harry too, as a brother (or more officially, a brother-in-law) but he doesn’t understand George’s love for Harry.

The thing is, George sees all that too. But he also sees how that lost lonely boy saved their sister, saw the rebirth of a monster but invested in happiness, led an underground defense group against the Toad, became a government criminal and saved everyone. He sees a lost lonely boy who was good but not perfect, who mistrusted people because of experience but wanted to be surprised, who yelled more than cried and laughed all too little. A lost lonely boy who ended a war and along the way became a man who didn’t need to be so lost or lonely anymore.

Dreaming One Shots — now on ao3!

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jacksgreysays:

jacksgreysays:

jacksgreysays:

Combining all of my Dreaming of Sunshine recursive one shots into one collection called Dreaming One Shots on archiveofourown.

For now this includes:

  1. Becoming a Legend
  2. Stories of Ancient Gods
  3. Netsui/Shikako Three Sentence Fic
  4. Dropped Off Stitches (On The Loom Of Fate)

Check it out here!

Have also uploaded:

5.  Chances Gone By
6.  You and Me and Baby (Makes Fifteen)

Have also uploaded:

7.  Winter in the Fields
8.  Semi-Phenomenal, Nearly Cosmic

Have also uploaded:

9.  Reshuffle the Deck
10. Primadonna Girl (Says No Thank You)

Primadonna Girl (Says No Thank You), a DoS recursive ficlet  (2016-08-16)

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Given everything that happened in the Land of Moon, it’s not a surprise that she forgot basically everything leading up to it.

So when Dad says, over one of the rare dinners where all of them are present, “Shikako, we need to talk tomorrow,” she freezes up immediately.

Her shoulders go tense and her eyes drop from Dad’s face to Shikamaru who is carefully maneuvering his chopsticks with the Shadow Hand and looking so uninterested that he’s no doubt preparing to memorize every word and breath of this upcoming conversation.

Mum doesn’t look worried at all; but, then again, Mum occasionally works for T&I so that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.

She swallows, a little irritated at the way the food has now turned tasteless in her mouth. “About what, Dad?” She tries for casual and misses by a mile.

Dad quirks an eyebrow, noticing, well, everything about her response. “Nothing bad,” he assures, which doesn’t work. “Noriko has been trying to catch the both of us at the same time.” That works better, mostly because…

“Ino’s mum?” she asks, confused. Shikako just saw Ino a few days ago, and she was fine. Also, why would Dad need to be involved.

Dad nods, “In this case, it’s in a more official capacity.”

Ah. That makes slightly more sense. Ino’s mum works for the part of the Intel Division that Shikako would liken to her old world’s Public Relations if it didn’t also include the negotiators in charge of extracting altered mission fees and the ominously named ‘Counter Intelligence’ Squad.

Unsurprisingly, they work closely with T&I.

Worrying, but not overly much. “So tomorrow morning?”

“The Tower,” Dad says, “at eight.” That done, the meal resumes as best as it can.

—

Walking to the Tower with Dad is a little weird. This is the path she walks for work with Cryptography, to get new missions, but with Dad? It’s as if she’s suddenly de-aged and become a child needing to be escorted by her parent.

But it’s not uncomfortable–the silence is calming, doesn’t let her anxiety or paranoia build up.

Inside the Tower, she follows after Dad, not really sure where they’re meant to meet Noriko-san and unwilling to get lost. That’s not an exaggeration, either. Like the Academy building, the Tower has an unusual layout so outsiders can’t just walk in and find sensitive information. The only places equally accessible is the bottom floor, where clients are processed.

At a nondescript office after way too many turns, Dad stops and knocks on the door a little unnecessarily. If this is Noriko-san’s office then she already knows they’re there.

“Come in already,” her voice calls out, “I’ve been wanting to get this done with for weeks,” she says gesturing at the chairs in front of her desk.

Shikako’s eyes dart around the room, but there’s nothing really particularly interesting about it. Except for the vase of fresh flowers–freesias–there’s no hint of this being Ino’s mum’s office. Which is probably the point.

“You know why I’ve asked you here,” Noriko-san begins, but Shikako feels obligated to interrupt.

“Uh, I don’t, actually,” she volunteers hesitantly. It wouldn’t do to start a meeting off on completely different pages, but it kind of feels rude to correct her.

Noriko-san looks at Dad exasperated, “Really, Shikaku?” she asks, with such a familiarity that it reminds Shikako keenly of Ino.

Dad shrugs, “It’d be more efficient if you explained it; you are the expert here.”

“More efficient for you, maybe,” Noriko-san snipes back, but lets the matter drop.

Given the tone of the conversation, Shikako is pretty sure that the topic of this meeting isn’t anything too bad.

She would have lost money by betting on it not being utterly and completely weird, though.

—

“I have… what?” she asks, no doubt sending completely baffled looks at Noriko-san and Dad.

“Fan mail, Shikako,” Dad says, repeating what Noriko-san just said. “Presumably from fans of yours,” he adds, because Dad never lets an opportunity for trolling to pass by.

“Like… mission requests?” she clarifies, almost hopefully. That would make sense–sometimes the more famous shinobi get requested specifically for missions. It costs the clients more, of course, but then they get the pleasure of saying they’ve hired so-and-so which apparently is like trading cards for nobility–given her showing at the Grass Chuunin Exams and rapid promotion, that’s not too unexpected.

“No, Shikako,” Noriko-san says gently, yet amused, “Fan mail. You apparently have quite the following from your role in the last Princess Fuun movie.”

The strangled sound that comes out of her mouth could possibly be described as a whimper.

“We’ve already discussed the matter of royalties with the studio–you as well as your teammates and sensei will be getting your deserved payment,” at this point Noriko-san’s smile turns sharp, “And given that they used footage of you without your consent, you can be assured that said payment is very high.”

Shikako swallows and tries not to look unassured. Just in case.

“The problem is,” Noriko-san continues, “there are talks of a spin-off series. Namely circling around you. Or rather, Shishimaru’s little sister, Shikako.”

A horrified laugh bubbles out of her before she can catch it.

Dad watches her the same way he does that one particular buck who keeps getting his antlers stuck in the same tree. Confused, but almost impressed.

“Frankly this situation has never come up before–for obvious reasons. You’re a special jounin, you’re more than capable of making this decision on your own, but I’ve included your father in this meeting just in case,” Noriko-san glances pointedly at both her and Dad’s sleeves, “You were, after all, wearing the clan crest and it’s apparently become part of your character’s image.”

Hundreds of years of clan tradition reduced to the costume of a minor character in a movie. Hopefully her ancestors–like Dad, given the not so subtle shaking of his shoulders in quiet laughter–are amused and not insulted.

“The question now is: given this is a unique opportunity, are you at all interested?”

~

A/N: Okay, for anon who wanted some cosplayers but I went with the general idea of Shikako becoming famous outside of being a ninja–because Chapter 112 was hilariously awkward for Shikako and I loved it.

Also, you can’t tell me Konoha didn’t squeeze so much money out of the studio for using footage of Team Seven without their permission. So Much Money.

It’s unlikely she’ll actually go for it seeing as how the first time around was a surprise and soooooo embarrassing for her, but I thought it was better to leave it as a technically open ending.

Noriko as Ino’s mum’s name because the narutowiki doesn’t have one for her and I don’t remember it being specified anywhere in DoS. And Noriko is the name of the VA so… unimaginative writer is unimaginative.

I’m going to wait posting it on ao3 until I have a title… does anyone have any suggestions?

edit: I’m tentatively titling it Primadonna Girl (Says No Thank You) because it’s very early in the morning and I find it hilarious.

Prompt: Sai and Shikako deal with cosplaying fans of their manga

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Hey anon, thanks for the prompt. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be writing this exact prompt per se, seeing as how I’d feel compelled to fill in Sai and Shikako actually banding together to make a manga and how exactly that would have come about seeing as how Sai is still ~brainwashed~ and Shikako is way too stressed to take on a project that doesn’t directly lead to her/everyone’s survival.

That being said, this does kind of bring up something I’ve been meaning to write–so we’ll see?

image

Thanks! 😀

edit: kinda filled here

Reshuffle the Deck: Or, Five Genin Teams Shikako Wasn’t On (2016-08-15)

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Four of a Kind

(The Ino-Shika-Cho is a good combination, but it’s never good to let genin teams become predictable–it makes them vulnerable to enemy action, and considering who makes up the roster of this year’s new genin? Vulnerability is to be avoided at all cost.

The idea behind the trio is still sound, shouldn’t be abandoned completely, and so the Hokage and Academy teachers build the new teams with that in mind.

It’s not their fault that it completely throws off a good chunk of her foreknowledge.)

“This is…” Shikako says, words drifting off to look at her two teammates.

“Uh, sensei?” Ino picks up, immediately “I think you’ve gotten it wrong–it’s Ino-Shika-Cho, not Ino-Shika-Inu.”

Akamaru barks, Kiba does too. “What you’ve got a problem with dogs?” Smirk easily changeable into baring of teeth.

“Only the ones that haven’t bathed in three days,” Ino says, sharp smile of her own, “Aren’t you supposed to have a good sense of smell?”

Shikako cuts in, brings the tension down but adds to the teasing as well. “Not all of us can smell like a flower shop all the time, Ino.”

(With a steady jounin sensei and normal missions, they would have become strong, solid shinobi in a few years.

With Anko as their sensei, in a matter of months they become the first genin team with the bingo book orders Flee On Sight)

—

Full House [of Queens]

“They didn’t even try for subtle, did they?” Shikako asks Kurenai-sensei, mouth an opposite slant to her raised eyebrow.

Her jounin sensei shrugs, “You could argue that’s what this entire team is for–given the tenets of kunoichi and all that.”

“Don’t you think this will be fun, Shikako?” Sakura asks, stars in her eyes–the disappointment at not being on the same team as Sasuke quickly passing at the excitement of being on a team with her two best friends.

“And anyway,” Ino adds, “Who needs a bunch of boys messing up our missions?”

(Despite the tenets of kunoichi, their team does not maintain subtlety for too long. Oh, their missions succeed, no doubt about that, and they’re never actually caught; but rumors of a group of girls capable of slipping in unnoticed and completely destroying any opposition spreads.

They become known as the Three Beauties of Konoha, though mostly, all enemies can remember about them is the color of their hair and the scent of fresh flowers)

“Someone asked me to punch them today,” Sakura says to her teammates, bemused.

Although the three of them have long since been promoted from genin, they tend to team up with each other regardless. Why mess with success?

“Oh, yeah?” Shikako adds absentmindedly, writing in one of her eternally present journals even as Ino begins to pull it away, “Me, too, a couple of days ago.”

“Did you?” Sakura asks, watching in amusement as Ino and Shikako begin playing tug of war with the journal.

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave me alone until I did and by that point he was being so annoying it was a relief to do it.”

“I made mine pay for it,” Ino says, to which both of her teammates look up at her smug face in confusion. Pulling the journal from Shikako’s slack hands is easy; her expression only becomes more pleased. “He clearly wanted it for some reason, and why do something for free when you can get paid for it?”

“And?” Sakura prompts, while Shikako bemoans her lack of initiative.

“It bought me a new dress,” Ino brags. And because she’s always a well of information, she explains to her teammates. “Apparently there’s some kind of superstition going around that if someone gets punched by all three of us they get good luck.”

—

Two Pair

(She pulls back too late. The teachers have already spotted her talent; genius, prodigy, legend-in-the-making they murmur to each other. She gets accelerated, graduates among students several years older than herself.

When her genin team is called, she swallows down bile.)

“Shikako-chan,” Kabuto says, mild smile on his face. All of his smiles are mild, she wants to punch him in the face.

“Yes?” She chirps back, slipping into her role of over-eager kouhai. She’ll admit he knows an awful lot of tricks that’ll be useful in the future.

Let him think he’s converting the Jounin Commander’s daughter, she’ll feed him lies and bleed him dry.

“You’re always so curious,” he says, ever so patronizing, “it’s a good thing to have in a student.”

“Well, you’re a good teacher,” she says back–always flattering, always sweet–she needs to appear as a book smart genius, not an actual threat.

“It’s not so much a virtue when it comes to espionage,” Kabuto amends, voice still pleasant but suddenly sharp and deadly.

She can feel the blood freeze in her veins. Literally.

“W-what are you talking about, Kabuto-senpai?” she chokes out through the clawing in her throat, her rapidly stiffening lungs.

“Don’t worry,” he says as her vision goes blurry, then dark, “It’s time for you to get a real teacher.”

(When she wakes up, she’s almost relieved to see Orochimaru’s face.

Better him than Danzo, she thinks even as the abomination of mutated natural chakra burns through her. The Curse Seal.

Kabuto won’t need to convert her if a piece of Orochimaru is literally looking over her shoulder.)

—

Straight

The night of graduation, Shikako faints while walking up the stairs.

It’s also the first time the Kyuubi’s malevolent chakra has been felt in over a decade.

The two events are not unrelated.

Needless to say, Shikaku will not be having his daughter on the same team as someone whose chakra can render her unconscious. He knows the Academy teachers think he is just pulling rank, getting his child off a team with That Monster, but Shikaku’s always been more practical than that: it’d be like having someone allergic to dogs on the same team as an Inuzuka, illogical and troublesome.

And anyway, he remembers Kushina and Mito-sama before that, neither of them were monsters. How could their legacy ever be one?

(Shikako looks at her teammates and feels nothing but conflicted, guilty relief.

A part of her had wanted to be on a more integral team, to better alter the course of future events. But another part of her had always been afraid of taking on such a daunting task.

Better to be on a team with these two–childhood bullies though they may be–than, god forbid, Naruto and Sasuke. She’d constantly be in the crossfire of powerhouses, pushed further and further to a breaking point that she doesn’t know where it will lead.

Jiro and Youbirin are blank slates as far as she’s concerned. She doesn’t need to worry about them, doesn’t need to watch over their destinies. They could die for all she knows, and plotwise it’d still lead to a good ending.)

“Fuck!” She shouts, turning to her fallen teammate who has crumpled to the forest floor. Youbirin gives a bloody cough in response, hands shakily going for the sword through his chest. “Jiro get over here!”

“I’m a little busy!” He shouts back, sending a bolt of lightning towards his opponent before retreating. They’re fighting Rock nin, with an Earth Pillar it becomes useless.

“I can’t heal this on my own,” Shikako says, hands futilely glowing green anyway. “Why would you do that? You could probably heal something like this.”

Youbirin gives another wet cough.

“Don’t die, please,” she begs, “You matter to me, don’t die, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, don’t die, don’t die,” she chants, hoping and pushing herself to her limits.

That’s the problem with genin teammates–they’ll always be important, no matter who they are.

—

Royal Flush

(On the one hand, traveling through time to meet the Nidaime Hokage is pretty cool. Getting to compare fuinjutsu notes with him is practically a dream come true.

Somehow being stuck randomly appearing at various points in his life? She’d rather not.

But, well, there’s a silver lining to everything.

She just has to find this one.)

Team Tobirama is a seven person team.

Except for when it’s an eight person team.

Tobirama-sensei only briefly introduces the girl before they’re off on what will undoubtedly be a difficult mission.

Cloud shinobi. It won’t be anything but difficult.

She’s a stranger and it shows, their team falling into the familiar grouping–Kagami, Danzo, Torifu and Hiruzen, Homura, Koharu–while sensei single-handedly destroys his own opponents. It leaves her alone, and for a moment Kagami worries, before he realizes that she’s holding her own.

More than, even.

(The Kinkaku Force should have overpowered them, forced the genin to flee while their sensei sacrifices himself.

Eight instead of seven.

Nobody dies that day. The hat does not get passed on quite yet)

She’s not a permanent member of their team, which confuses Kagami because as far as he can tell she’s not on any other team either.

“I don’t recognize her,” Torifu says in a hush, which is especially worrying. It’s not an admission, it’s a clue: if Torifu can’t recognize someone wearing Nara sigils, something is going on.

“She keeps staring at me,” Danzo adds, before his face flushes with a sudden realization, “Not–not like that!” he says, embarrassed, while Kagami and Torifu share a smirk.

“She is rather pretty,” Kagami teases, Torifu nodding in solemn agreement, because an opportunity to fluster Danzo is always something to take advantage of. And besides, it’s not as if they don’t trust her–Tobirama-sensei trusts her, and more besides she’s risked her life alongside them–but this is a mystery that needs solving.

(They never do figure it out.)

~

A/N: A little late but still respectable, I think. Also it’s not really my fault since tumblr appears to be having technical trouble–is that everyone or is it just me? I do have somewhat sporadic wi-fi right now.

I’ll try to meet the midnight deadline properly tonight, anyway.

So the first two are from a conversation I had with @unfortunatehatlessness, the third one was just a haunting idea I had–though, highly influenced by @donapoetrypassion’s In Which Someone Attempts To Kidnap Shikamaru, Instead. Fourth is the anonymously prompted AU of @kuipernebula’s and mine Team Medic!AU (uh, sorry for the bleak ending on that one, it works out okay in the end?) And fifth is kiiinda a response to Linnypants’ comment on ao3 about Shikako’s POV of my Semi-Phenomenal, Nearly Cosmic ficlet.

Wow, okay, that’s a pretty impressive sweep if I do say so myself 😀 Also, happy belated birthday to myself.

I’ll post this to ao3 in a bit

Missed Post (2016-08-14)

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jacksgreysays:

Today had a lot of ups and downs–more ups, technically, but the downs were more down than the ups were up, and some of those downs were supposed to be ups that fell through… if any of that makes any sense.

Basically the moving in process is two steps forward, three steps back.

Also, I realized for Stars Also Dream that I did the math wrong–Yoshino doesn’t need to have stopped aging, she needs to have suddenly aged… at least mentally. So I guess I could do something where physically she’s in stasis, but mentally she ages? Which is weird but… hrmph. I’m disappointed in myself–how could I math wrong? I love math! Alas, it clearly does not love me back.

Okay, so, I needed to visualize the math in order to make sure I wasn’t messing up again and came up with the following for Stars Also Dream:

(under the cut in case you’d rather not know exact ages and keep the ambiguity…)

So Yoshino is a 15 year old padawan when Anakin goes Dark side and Palpatine takes over as Emperor and the Skywalker twins are born. Which isn’t too bad considering Obi-Wan was a padawan up through his twenties. Also, Yoshino could have started off as a very young padawan ~10/11 and only had four years with Master Bant making it in line with “for a handful of years” in part 2 of SAD (… omg, is that really what this series abbreviates to?)

Since I am obviously ignoring Naruto canon and replacing it with DoS canon (which makes a lot more sense) then that means in DoS/Sunshine Sidestories canon, Yoshino only mentally refers to herself as 24 years old in her POV chapter and it’s never specifically brought up in either fic otherwise. Since SQ has given me tacit permission to age up DoS Ibiki for the sake of this series, I’m hoping that extends to physically aging Yoshino down by three years. Which isn’t too bad (and means I only have to age up Ibiki by seven years instead of ten, hooray). 

While that does mean the “physical” age difference between Shikaku and Yoshino is four years (as opposed to the “mental”/canon age difference of one year) that’s totally respectable, especially since I’m pretty sure they don’t start a relationship until Yoshino’s at least physically ~17/18 and mentally ~20/21 and while Shikaku is ~21/22. Given what people in this world are getting up to at age twelve that’s more than playing it safe, I think.

It’s my fanon understanding that most of the Rookie Nine’s parents were older than Naruto’s parents by a few years (barring, perhaps, Sasuke’s mother Mikoto). But since Yoshino is a little bit aged down, that means it’s very likely that she is the same age or not too much older than Kushina. And thus that subplot can move forward without any hangups on my part.

Now how to resolve the vertical blue line of rapid aging… I kinda have an idea but I need to ponder it some more and I’ll probably turn it into a proper installment for the series. It’ll probably be emotionally taxing–SAD, one might even say.

Missed Post (2016-08-14)

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Today had a lot of ups and downs–more ups, technically, but the downs were more down than the ups were up, and some of those downs were supposed to be ups that fell through… if any of that makes any sense.

Basically the moving in process is two steps forward, three steps back.

Also, I realized for Stars Also Dream that I did the math wrong–Yoshino doesn’t need to have stopped aging, she needs to have suddenly aged… at least mentally. So I guess I could do something where physically she’s in stasis, but mentally she ages? Which is weird but… hrmph. I’m disappointed in myself–how could I math wrong? I love math! Alas, it clearly does not love me back.

Stars Also Dream, 4/? (2016-08-13)

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First the massacre of the initiates in the Temple, then Order 66 being executed throughout the galaxy–an earthquake: a sudden jolt, escalating and devastating, before petering out into the stillness of ruins.

Or, perhaps, it was more akin to a volcano erupting. Bright and terrible and so overt, but the encroaching magma and smothering ash clouds no less destructive for their lingering pace. The thorough erasure of the Jedi was life changing, heart breaking, earth shattering.

Whatever just happened in the west? That’s a star going supernova.

You catch yourself before your knees actually hit the ground–shinobi training nothing to scoff at–but you are dizzy, disoriented, disastrous. You reach a hand out to steady yourself and find the solid dependability of Ibiki’s arm.

Ah, yes, sometimes you go grocery shopping together. Vegetables spill every which way–neither of you care. He doesn’t ask you if you’re alright, he knows you better than that.

(Before, when you were both newly minted chuunin, the Sensory Squad had sent you an invitation. But though the Force and chakra are related, they’re not the same; after your sporadic showing, they rescinded their offer.

That’s okay, Ibiki would rather have a partner who can tell when people are lying than one who can sense enemies at a distance–Ibiki’s enemies are usually close, anyway.)

“West,” you gasp, because that’s all you can tell him, “it was in the west.”

Your children are in the west. No, you’re being paranoid. They couldn’t possibly be near that, you think, the desperate hope of a worried mother.

Your daughter comes back with a heart full of stardust.

—

That’s not the first time you ever waver, wonder, worry, about your daughter. Shikamaru is very much his father’s son, a Nara through and through. But Shikako, you know, has more than just a touch of yourself.

The Force and chakra are related but not the same–but it’s hard to articulate how, exactly, words and concepts twisting together–like melody and rhythm, or flavor and scent. Everything has chakra, the Force is in everything. But using chakra can be taught, Force sensitivity cannot.

Your son is a being of chakra, that much is clear. But your daughter? If the Temple hadn’t fallen, she probably would have become an initiate.

(If the Temple hadn’t fallen, she wouldn’t even exist.)

A difference between chakra and the Force: Chakra has no Light side or Dark side, the Force does.

(Doesn’t it? It must, otherwise what have the Jedi been fighting for? Why do they exist? Why were they killed? Why was your life torn to shreds?)

Chakra is life-power-energy. It can be used for good or evil, but it’s not inherently Light or Dark.

You don’t think you’d ever have been comfortable around the Nara if that were the case. Certainly not enough to get to know Shikaku; definitely not enough to marry him or start a family with him.

He is calm and logical, but kind and charming in his honesty. It’s not that you forget that shadows and Nara are nearly synonyms in Konoha, it’s just that when you’re with him he’s just Shikaku–not the Nara clan head, the epitome of shadows.

Shadows aren’t Dark side, because chakra isn’t the Force. But that doesn’t matter at all when your daughter is dead.

She’s not dead, not really, she’s breathing and moving and talking and eating–just a training accident, your husband says, it’ll wear off by tomorrow–but it’s as if she is. In the Force, she is a void. In the Force, she is dead.

(A yawning emptiness where your bond with Master Bant used to be. That cold and empty and lonely place where all the other Jedi were before, a distant glow, comforting and familiar, suddenly and cruelly extinguished.)

You try to play along–Shikaku would never deliberately lie to you, certainly not about something as important as this–but it’s hard because as far as you can tell, as far as the Force is telling you, your daughter is dead and this is a droid everyone is trying to convince you is the little miracle you gave birth to.

Shikaku sees it on your face, hears it in your voice, has Shikamaru take that creature wearing your daughter’s body out of the house, but it doesn’t matter that she’s no longer in sight.

Your senses know: your daughter is dead.

(The next day is better, but not completely, your daughter no longer a void–no longer dead–but only the faintest presence in the Force. A mere candle seen from a far distance, not the comforting hearth of a familiar Force sensitive.

It’s only now that you realize how much you depended on that in a world full of strangers and strangeness)

~

A/N: For @donapoetrypassion because you always have the best follow up comments to my fic and I always feel a little guilty for not knowing how to respond, so this one is a relief to finally be able to do. Some Yoshino reactions to Gelel and the accident in clan training (plus bonus Ibiki). I hope you enjoy! 😀