Untitled (2017-08-30)

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If you’re doing it right, no one will ever thank you for doing your job.

If you’re doing it right, no one will ever know.

But still, it’s something that needs doing. If you don’t do it then who will?

///

“Aren’t you tired?” your cousin asks you, as you creep into the house at three in the morning.

You don’t much feel like confrontation now, shrugging off your jacket which weighs too heavily on your shoulders, sodden and dark. It squelches against the floor, and you know your aunt will pitch a fit if it ruins the hardwood floor, so you kick at it half-heartedly until it’s on the massive dog bed instead.

Eh.

“You should be asleep,” you say to your cousin, blindly making your way into the kitchen. Your night vision is shot–an exploded tanker on the highway, seven dead–and for all your stupid supernatural responsibilities you hardly get any of the benefits. You’re hungry as hell.

Well. You might be hungry as hell. You’re the only one in this house who has never been there.

“First day of school tomorrow,” she responds, sheepishly, “I’m too nervous to sleep, and plus I was waiting for you, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

In the fridge there’s a tupperware of some kind of pasta, which is probably what dinner was tonight–you deliberately try to avoid those, still so uncertain in your place here–or, alternatively, a brick of cheese with an upcoming expiration date and a bag of pretzels that’s been untouched on the counter for two weeks.

Your cousin chatters on, “Uncle Az said I should keep an eye out for you, since you don’t remember your limits and don’t take good care of yourself.”

You shut the door firmly. Not so loud as to slam, noise echoing up and through the rest of the house where your aunt is sleeping, but definitive enough. Mackenzie presses her lips together, startled and a little afraid.

“If my father wanted me to remember my limits or be safe or–” you scoff “–happy, he should have let me die as a normal human.”

///

Angels–or the supernatural beings that humans think of as angels–don’t often fall in love.

They are devoted to their duty, to their god–or whatever high power humans think of as gods–and, frankly, are snobby, oblivious, sanctimonious assholes.

Generally, it’s better for all involved if angels don’t fall in love: they’re horrible lovers and even worse parents.

Missed Posts (2017-08-28 and 29)

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So… I realize I’ve been very lax about my daily posting, and not even for a very good reason. I watched all of Rick and Morty… delved into some fic (not Rick and Morty fic because that’s just… no thank you) and totally fucked up my own circadian rhythm. As per usual.

And then I’ll be going out of town for a week for my sister’s ~bridal shower/bachelorette party bonanza bash weekend~ so…

Maybe I should do another ask box event?

Indelible, a Dreaming of S(oulmates) tangent (2017-08-27)

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A/N1: So psych_girl commented on the ao3 version of Dreaming of S(oulmates) about expanding on the different soulmate AUs, and I gave permission to write double recursive ficlets based on them (hopefully I’ll be able to reblog/post links here), but it put my mind on the subject and I hope I’m not swooping a ficlet out from under them.

So this one in particular is based on the AU (two: inkblot skin).

~

Shinobi will try to weaponize anything, a subconscious mindset more than active strategy: the symbiotic relationship of Aburame and their kikaichu, Inuzuka and their ninken, are just two examples of such.

Fuinjutsu had originally been created to transport Uzushio’s limited, but varied resources across their islands.

Even something as innocuous as flowers–the Yamanaka as much feared for their poisonous arrangements as their mind jutsu.

Soul marks–the transfer of ink and scars and blood from one soulmate to the other–are not exempt either.

///

The main issues preventing soul marks from monopolizing intel communications is that they’re not comprehensive and they’re not immediate.

Sometimes, something as insignificant as scraped knees or absentminded grocery lists will transfer over, while death blows and I love you’s remain on only one half. There doesn’t seem to be any correlation in emotion or strength of bond to explain what gets send and what doesn’t. And so something as important as mission specs or front line movements could never be entrusted to soul marks.

On top of that, any of them may transfer in minutes, in hours, in days–the longest recorded gap being three weeks. Again, nothing explaining the inconsistency: not distance, or age, or emotion.

But still, that doesn’t mean that soul marks don’t have very real, very dire consequences.

///

When his children are almost four years old, they both begin to wear headbands and refuse to take them off in front of anyone.

It doesn’t take a Nara to figure out the why, but the what, exactly, he will later admit to being… hasty.

In his defense, soulmates tend to be born near each other and there’s only one forehead mark in Konoha that is regularly covered up. Given that Shikaku has heard about what ought to be an internal Hyuuga clan matter–the marking of Neji Hyuuga at an abnormally young age, cruel even for a clan that habitually enslaves their own members–it’s a fairly logical assumption to make.

What he does afterwards is less logical and more… fiercely protective.

///

The Byakugan may not have been as storied as the Sharingan, but the Hyuuga’s dojutsu was more dependable and with the decline of the Uchiha–in both numbers and reputation–the Hyuuga enjoyed a loftier, more lenient position than many other clans. Even the other noble clans.

In comparison to the Aburame–whose southern apiaries had been decimated during the Kyuubi attack–and the Akimichi, who spent as much time cultivating their financial and political enterprises as they did their martial prowess, the Hyuuga were more invaluable to Konoha.

But invaluable does not mean immune.

///

They meet, once, while they’re both still at the Academy.

It’s difficult. They’re in different years, which is part of it, but primarily it’s because all of Konoha is keenly aware of the political cold war happening between the clans and all of the teachers are taking measures to prevent any incidents from happening.

Further incidents, that is: a spar turned hostile in the graduating class, resulting in suspensions for the Akimichi and Hyuuga involved. Invisible lines drawn amongst the students from clans, rearranging friendships and even future genin team proposals.

As the pair at the heart of the problem, they are especially monitored. But just once, just for a short time, they manage to meet.

Neither of them will reveal what was said, but afterwards Neji goes without a headband: baring his cursed seal provocatively, almost incendiary.

Shikako becomes all the more paranoid about hers.

///

Eventually, it’s revealed that Shikamaru’s forehead is as blank as the day he was born but, one twin or both, that doesn’t alter the path Konoha is already on.

In contrast, the Uchiha clan, sensing the winds of change, circumvent their fate entirely: allying themselves with the enemy of their enemy and integrating back into, at least, half of the village. Hundreds of lives are spared, though only Danzo, thwarted, and Shikako know.

Not all is good, though: Hinata, already shy and secluded, is deliberately isolated. Where Ino leads, the other girls of the class follow; even though Shikako tries to mitigate the issue, Ino is ruthless in defending what she considers hers.

The mood of Konoha is fraught, tensions high enough for even the civilians to notice, streets of peace and prosperity now dangerous opportunities for public altercations.

Such a small action leading to such far reaching consequences.

Time marches on.

///

Konoha puts on a pleasant face for the Chuunin Exams, united only on the surface in front of foreign shinobi.

Team Seven meets the Sand siblings, Shikako sees the match to her soul mark.

She hesitates.

~

A/N2: I’m not very satisfied with the ending–I had the greater idea but not an actual plot, as you can see–so I kind of just… mreh?

I guess another reason for this ficlet is that I wanted to explore how even things that are supposed to be romantic–like soulmates and soul marks–have non-romantic consequences. So even if this is set in a Shikaara soulmate AU, this ficlet is gen.

I was actually considering some other repercussions of the misunderstanding: Hiashi possibly buckling under external and internal pressures and disavowing Hinata as his heir early on and marking her with the seal–which further splinters the already divided Hyuuga clan–but that seemed VERY CRUEL to Hinata who I already had shunned by everyone in class.

And also, would Sand and Sound still invade Konoha if the Uchiha clan isn’t killed? The Sand Siblings would still be at the Chuunin Exams, of course, but I don’t know if they’d be there as part of the invading force. Konoha isn’t as outwardly weakened, after all.

It seems more likely that if Orochimaru were to invade still, he’d probably have Danzo and ROOT make up the other part of the invading force, but even then if in this AU “I’m a pacifist” mass murdering kin-slayer Itachi is less of a giant hypocrite, I wouldn’t mind him being seriously considered for Hokage which would seriously deter both Orochimaru and Danzo, right?

I don’t know. They were vague thoughts at best.

I’m actually expecting DOS!Sakura entering ANBU in the future. She’s very versatile ninja with high combat and medical skills. Except her Super-Strength technique might be too high-profile? I was wondering what you think about ANBU!DOS!Sakura.

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I have always loved the idea of ANBU!Sakura (in canon, that is) for much the same reasons that you’ve listed above, but also as a sort of… Hokage training? Or leadership training, rather (because, while my heart of hearts will always love the idea of Hokage!Sakura, there’s no way that she’d take the role from Naruto until he willingly gives it up–realizing that it’s not what will make him happy–or if he is unable to).

In DoS though, her career trajectory isn’t the same, especially since her starting point is different, so I’m not sure if ANBU would be the best/desirable path for her. Or at least not anytime soon. (Which is not to say that she wouldn’t be nominated for ANBU, but I don’t think she would accept it in the near future)

Her overall goal in life–as stated in DoS–is to prove herself as a capable kunoichi, such that she will one day have a symbol on the back of her clothes much the same way clan kids carry their clan symbols. Hers is the empty circle waiting to be filled. In canon it’s a little different–her goal is more… emotional, I guess, in that she wants to be a capable kunoichi to prove that she can stand alongside her two teammates.

Since she wasn’t put on a jounin led team in DoS–more specifically, the Team Seven that would, on their first C-rank, free a small country from the grips of an evil despot–and instead started in the Medic Corps, her main obstacle is that, to put it crudely, name brand recognition.

In DoS she starts as a medic and trains toward field readiness, whereas in canon she started as a field nin and directed her path towards medicine. She’s at least a year or more behind on field experience and spreading her name as a kunoichi who can, frankly, survive a lot of weird shit–Shikako got that instead (compounded, seeing as how I’m pretty sure Sakura never literally died at any point). As of Chapter 137, which is pre-Mist Chuunin Exams, DoS!Sakura hasn’t had any international exposure that canon!Sakura got by being on Team Seven.

She has to build her reputation more slowly, but because of that she can do so steadily and more carefully.

ANBU kind of defeats that purpose. Don’t get me wrong. It would–even just the training/audition–greatly aid her in getting field capable (ninja boot camp, level up in just two weeks!) but it would all be anonymous.

And how would she explain her sudden jump in ability? Either that or she’d have to already be capable enough that the ANBU training isn’t out of place, and by that point she’d probably have enough field missions under her belt (as either Tsunade’s second apprentice or as part of Team Anko?) that she wouldn’t need it as much.

Sasuke and Shikako want the anonymity: they’re at a point where their reputation exceeds their skills (or, rather, the risk of having such large reputations exceed their skills) so ANBU lets them use said skills without being hindered by their faces and names.

Sakura isn’t at that point yet. And given she’s not technically a Lucky Seven, that may never happen. Her reputation will probably match her ability throughout her career without any weird imbalances or spikes.

Of course, there are other reasons why people join ANBU, but I don’t really think they much apply to Sakura in either iteration.

As for the super-strength technique, if she were to join ANBU, she’d train herself against using it while wearing the mask (the same way Shikako trained herself against using shadow jutsu and other, easily recognizable techniques). I’d say her pink hair would be the most obvious thing, but I suppose in ~anime world~ pink isn’t explicitly weird? Harder to hide than regular brown and switching between braid and bun, but hand wave that.

I hope I’m not raining on your parade, anon. As I’ve said before, ANBU!Sakura is a wonderful image and I can only ever dream of being a fraction as badass.

Um, if you can, would you please write something about an overwhelming grief? The sort of thing where you can’t even cry because it’s too big to deal with? I’d really appreciate anything you could do for that subject.

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Grief is a very personal thing, my friend.
There are layers to it,
levels,
variations in how deeply,
how long a loss will pain you.

I’ve had the sharp,
distracting pain of a sudden
but expected loss.
A paper cut,
skinned knees,
the side effects of
living
loving
losing.

And the screeching,
all-encompassing loss:
car crashes
and broken glass,
bones,
shards through skin,
muscle,
sinew.
Scars even afterwards,
aching in the cold.

Grief draws closer,
intimate,
visceral,
breath stealing,
heart stopping,
organs shutting down.

I will not ask how you are, my friend,
only if I may help you survive.

///

She doesn’t cry often, but she does do so easily, deliberately, spending tears like shiny coins in a gum ball machine. Better to release them when she chooses than to hoard them, hold them off, keep them at bay until the dam breaks. She feels her tears oncoming like the tide, the salty air and the change in pressure, ozone sparkling behind her eyelids. When that happens, she doesn’t batten down the hatches, she redirects them and channels them–tearjerking music with nostalgic, haunting melodies, fictional lovers with doomed relationships–emotional irrigation for the fruit trees in her heart.

And so when the time comes…
when the time goes…
her eyes remain startlingly dry.

///

“You’re allowed to cry, you know?” someone says, and you grunt in response.

Of course you know you’re allowed to cry; how irritating. You don’t need someone’s permission to cry.

You just aren’t. Haven’t.

Won’t.

Not for a while. Not for a long while.

Maybe not ever.

You feel hollowed out, as if your brain has shut off higher functions, higher feelings. You’ve been slouching from day to day, no momentum to propel you forward.

You’ll restart, soon, living instead of just subsiding, but you might not be the same.

Word Prompts (J7): Joy

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“So angry,” Allen says with his easy, genial smile, a softer version for so early in the morning. He’s fond of her and her brother, still thinks of them as the orphan kids who asked to live in the room above his bakery years and years ago.

“A coffee and pastry would help with that,” she responds, grumpy, but with far less bite than she would with most anyone else.

She’s pretty fond of him, too.

Allen shakes his head, tuts at her; the flour in his hair blends in with the patches of gray and white. He still thinks of her as a kid, but she also sometimes forgets how old he really is.

“You need sleep, not caffeine and sugar. And I need to bake today’s bread, not babysit a brat. Upstairs with you now, your brother’s waiting.”

It’s not Allen’s fault that’s a lie.

///

She hears it a lot–

You don’t look very happy.

Or,

Shouldn’t you smile more, then?

Or, even,

Your parents were pretty wrong about that.

–the last one usually causes her to lash out, parents are a touchy subject for good reason, but it’s not exactly inaccurate.

There’s not a lot in her life that matches her name.

///

The world has gotten a lot stranger in the past year or so. Or perhaps it’s always been strange and only now she’s beginning to notice, only now it’s beginning to resurge.

Regardless, she prides herself on being the best; on being so skilled that rumors whisper maybe something is strange about her, too.

It’s sheer competence, mostly, with some engineering and parkour of course. And luck, she’d grudgingly admit.

Still, she makes a name for herself, one much larger than herself, and for a while she thinks that’s enough.

One night she runs into a man who can turn into a literal wolf.

Luck isn’t enough.

///

She always loves the wrong people.

People who will leave her–whether they want to or not. People who would rather see her in jail than free. People who could never make her happy.

When she meets Ann, she thinks this time will be the exception.

And for a while, it is.

Just a little while.

Ann doesn’t mean to leave her, doesn’t want to leave her, but leave she does.

(A decade later, Joy will realize that even if Ann had stayed it wouldn’t have worked. Normal people falling in love with gods rarely ends happily)

~

A/N: I realize, terribly belatedly, that I should have saved all of my (_7) Word Prompts for some kind of DoS Lucky Sevens thing… because there are a few golden ones (like, N7 Ninja or T7 Teamwork or E7 Emotion or even S7 Sand for a nice Wind Country visit)

Ah well. And, I mean, some of the letters don’t even have seven words so…

In other news: I swear, every time I write something I learn something new about the Cadmium/Counterclockwise ‘verse… Joy and Leanne? Honestly did not see that one coming.

Word Prompts (D7): Dealing

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There’s a card on your window when you wake up in the morning, eight pointed star and smaller, repeating fractals in alternating black and white and silver.

The scariest thing isn’t that you recognize the symbol–though it’s been years since you’ve seen it–but that the card is on your window.

On the inside of your window.

They were inside your house.

They’ve found you.

///

When you were younger, you were praised for being powerful, for being smart, for being charming.

“You’d be a wonderful spell caster,” your mother said.

“What about a summoner?” your aunt offered instead.

“Healers are always in high demand and greatly regarded,” your grandmother added, and you nodded in agreement.

You could have been anything, but you chose to be a diviner.

You chose wrong.

///

As the abilities of individual witches grew–tied to the earth or bloodlines or other tangible, reachable things–beliefs changed.

Religion became superstition became silly old bedtime stories.

The gods were forgotten and the divine faded from memory.

Or so the public thinks.

///

You can’t hide from them forever.

You never thought you could.

Word Prompts (M7): Mask

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“Do. Not. Move,” she seethes, words hissed out between clenched teeth. “I will tear out your throat,” she warns.

Foolishly, he twitches. Immediately, he jerks back and freezes.

She narrows her eyes at him, suspicious, but after a few beats more of motionless, she turns away.

The boarded up cave mouth has three peepholes and the aliens are coming. She watches and waits.

///

Her first instinct upon being faced with alien invaders was to cover herself in blood and hide in the massive freezer in the back.

Not really the best move considering her cute and summery outfit, but she only barely got hypothermia, so she’s fine.

Now she wears borrowed trousers and a stolen bomber jacket, pockets filled with extra ammo, a grenade, and the bits and pieces of alien technology she’s scavenged off the few invaders they’ve managed to kill.

Phone lines have been down for days.

She hasn’t heard from her family in longer than that.

///

The mini cooper convertible is tiny and bright red, completely impractical and absolutely silly. It has an unnecessary racing stripe and a stuffed panda toy hanging from the rearview mirror.

It’s such a spot of ludicrous normality, so out of place at the end of the world, that she can’t help but laugh. Loud and bright and full of unsaid worries.

The tank is full, the keys are in the ignition, and it reminds her of being a teenager and pulling reckless tricks in the school parking lot that she does a donut for the hell of it.

When a scouting party lands, they run over three aliens together before speeding headlong into the bay.

She keeps the panda toy for months after.

///

Becoming a captain of The Resistance was mostly accidental.