Stars Also Dream, 9/? (2016-11-23)

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The first part of the journey is a hesitant, careful maneuvering of eight sentients in a ship meant for significantly less people. It certainly doesn’t help that they’re all strangers…

… and that four of them were, until recently, incarcerated by two others’ village.

And so, for the beginning of the journey, the small clusters stay separate for the most part: the smuggler captain and his Wookie XO grouchily trying to ignore their passengers, the royal droids conferring to each other in binary beeping and scandalized tones, the Jedi Master training the young Force sensitive, and you talking Santa-kun through his first off planet mission.

On the surface, he appears to take everything in stride, but you can’t help but notice his increasingly frazzled expression and how he keeps disrupting his chakra as if to shake off a genjutsu.

Well, you can hardly blame him–no doubt his definition of a long distance mission was vastly different when he woke up. Thankfully, he is a quick study, especially with such unassailable evidence, and you are confident that he will do his clan and village proud.

Now it’s time for you to do the same.

—

Master Kenobi has not lied to you–this, you can be sure of–but you’re also certain that he hasn’t told you the entire truth either. There are some things that The Negotiator is keeping close to his chest and you can respect that.

But you’re not going to just sit to the side and wait for things to happen around you.

Santa-kun does what Yamanakas in strange situations do best–adapt and extract information and cause distractions–involving himself in the most pertinent conversation and leaving you free to do some reconnaissance of your own.

He does have relevant questions for Master Kenobi, and for all that Santa-kun will never be able to use the Force, it’s beneficial for him to learn the theory behind it alongside young Luke.

Young Luke. A Force sensitive boy the same age as the fall of the Republic with the last name Skywalker.

You may have run away from your past, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten it: the last Force sensitive Skywalker left a significant change on the galaxy.

You know Master Kenobi must be training this one to put the matter to rights.

—

You’ve forgotten how frustrating protocol droids could be–or perhaps this one in particular is especially aggravating–not that there was much need to interact with them in the Jedi Order.

The R2 unit, on the other hand, you’re pretty sure would be an information gold mine if he weren’t so damned suspicious. Then again, you are best friends with Ibiki, so it’s not like this is entirely unfamiliar.

It’s true that the planet you’ve made your home is behind in terms of technology than the rest of the galaxy–whatever made it near invisible and the perfect sanctuary, also isolating it–and as a Jedi padawan, tech was never a high priority in your training, but these droids are quite old and… almost familiar.

You shake off the feeling. After all, droids aren’t connected to the Force.

With some cajoling, the R2 unit plays the princess’ message and, with hardly any prompting, the protocol droid goes on in length about what happened to them afterwards. It matches what Master Kenobi has said, true, but you think the R2 unit has more to add to the story.

“What about Luke?” you try asking, getting a resentful whistle and a whole load of empty chatter for your effort.

“What about Anakin Skywalker’s child?” you try again, rephrasing the question–the protocol droid seems honestly confused, but the R2 unit beeps in what you’ve learned to interpret as shock.

It’s confirmation, but not quite what you were expecting. Not completely.

“What about Anakin’s… children?” you ask once more, enjoying the way the R2 unit’s light blink at being caught out, right before a world ends.

—

All of Alderaan screams, billions of voice crying out one last time before being extinguished.

The death of a planet in a matter of moments.

~

A/N: … DUN DUN DUUUUUUUNNNNNN

Post Word Count: 673, Running Word Count: 8584

Shrike Things

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rikkamaru:

So currently future!Tim is going by Stephen, as I don’t know if I want future!Tim or tiny!Tim to go by Timothy and Stephen also means honor without meaning “honoring God”, which I think might appeal to him a bit more. But that means that, to keep things from being confusing for myself or others, I write like most people do when Tim is undercover. Stephen will be his new name, the name I call him by throughout the fic. I’m trying to figure out if I should maintain that or make him Tim and tiny!Tim Stephen (or some other name). Thoughts?

I think it depends on what you plan to do regarding POVs. Will it be entirely future!Tim’s point of view? Or will it jump between different POVs?

I think, if it’s entirely/mostly future!Tim’s POV, that it would be better to have future!Tim refer to himself mentally as Tim with tiny!Tim as Timothy. It’s different enough that readers will be able to distinguish between the two when you write without having to constantly connect Stephen to future!Tim.

I do like Stephen as an alias for him, though, given the “honor” meaning and how there’s that Stephen-Stephanie connection. Considering Shrike is going out on his own as a vigilante for the first time ever, he may very well be reminded of Stephanie during her Spoiler days–alone and without the benefit of an established vigilante infrastructure, but going for it anyway.

So you can still have future!Tim in his “undercover” mode referring to himself as Stephen/thinking as Stephen when others are around, but as soon as he’s alone I do think he’d switch back to “just Tim” mode. And you can also have him refer to himself as Shrike during his patrols and such once he establishes a proper identity/personality for the name.

Minor Miracles, 7/? (2016-11-22)

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Carlin Frey

(blood is one thing, family is another)

—

One of her earliest memories is of her sister, big brown eyes filled with tears, and the stinging pain after a blow to the face.

“Idiot child,” says their brother or cousin or uncle, the Twins fill to bursting with so many Freys she’s not sure how they are related, “Learn your place.”

The House of Frey is not a family, there is no kindness here: Carlin learns never to ask for something when taking is much more efficient.

—

Roslin is gentle and beautiful and, if not loved, then regarded fondly by others.

Carlin is the exact opposite: rough and loud and brash and only loved by her sister, but she is satisfied with that.

She’d rather be brave than kind, would rather fight than cry, would rather have only Roslin than the dozens of other Freys.

—

When she and Roslin are six, Carlin dresses in clothes stolen from a brother or a cousin or an uncle, and lines up alongside the boys of her family who are beginning to train in swords.

Beside herself, there are four other Freys of age; the master-at-arms too busy to check if she should even be there at all.

Carlin gets callouses on her palms and scrapes on her knuckles and couldn’t be happier.

—

Roslin doesn’t approve, but she doesn’t tell anyone else about it either–that early memory is one they share, after all–and she is distraction enough that no one thinks to borrow trouble in the form of Carlin.

As years pass, House Frey seems to forget that the lord’s sixth wife had two daughters, not just one.

… until it’s time for the newest generation of Freys to become squires.

—

This most recent blow to the face leaves her speechless not from pain–for she is a knight in training–but from shock.

Carlin thinks this is the first time Walder Frey has ever touched her, much less spoken to her.

Just like last time, she sees Roslin’s eyes fill with tears and Carlin learns a new lesson.

—

Think fast, talk faster, and maybe she can turn shame into glory.

If she were a terrible warrior, then that would be one thing, but she has been trained well and is skilled besides–this can still be salvaged.

If she fails, then that would only prove Lord Frey right, but if she succeeds…

—

Women warriors aren’t common in Westeros, but Carlin isn’t the first: there are the Sand Snakes of Dorne, the Maiden Knight of Tarth, and the Lady Bears of the North.

Surely one of them will be honored at the idea of a noble born squire?

Roslin helps her write the letters and, for the last time, acts as distraction so Carlin can seal and send them off.

—

Ideally the Mormonts, Carlin thinks to herself at night, listening to the soft breaths of her sleeping sister.

Brienne’s storyline intwines with the Baratheons and the Lannisters too closely for comfort.

And though the Sand Sisters would be good for her personally–the name Frey would not be a death sentence in Dorne regardless of the path their lord father chooses–Roslin deserves happiness; it wasn’t fair that she should be used as bait in a trap.

—

The whole of House Frey could burn to the ground and Carlin would be fine with that so long as Roslin were safe and happy.

Carlin presses a hand to her throat, remembering the fates of those brothers, cousins, nephews, whose only crime was to be named Frey.

Nevertheless, Carlin goes North: she doesn’t expect to be spared if it comes to that, she hopes to derail that future entirely.

~

A/N: I didn’t want to write about whether or not Carlin succeeds because… that’s not the point of this series…

Post Word Count: 607, Running Word Count: 7911

Dreaming of S(oulmates), (2016-11-21)

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one: red string of fate (ABTSF-15.2)

It’s a good thing soulmates are the only one who can see their shared string, Shikako thinks, staring blankly at the ethereal red thread tied around her pinky.

Otherwise, it’d be such a point of weakness for any shinobi.

“Soulmate,” says Gaara, voice raspy but still perfectly audible–of course, she sighs internally, ignoring the gasps around her, it only works if the soulmates keep quiet about it.

—

two: inkblot skin

Shikamaru is the first to see it–actually, for nearly a decade, he is the only one to see it–the dark ink on his sister’s face where before there was empty skin.

They are young, but not so young as to be naive.

From then on, both Nara twins wear headbands on their brows: one out of solidarity, one to hide love.

—

three: shared dreams

Perhaps they did, when they were children, but childhood dreams are easily forgotten after time and tragedy.

Gaara doesn’t sleep, and so he doesn’t dream.

For many years Shikako just assumes she doesn’t have a soulmate.

—

four: death clock

She chose the path of the ninja because there was no other choice–Shikako could never abandon her friends, her family, to the fate that loomed ahead.

(And also, maybe, because the timer on her arm only had a decade left; her soulmate had to be a ninja, too.)

Gaara’s timer had always been at zero.

—

five: shared injuries

Gaara knows pain: it’s followed him ever since he could remember, even if it’s never been firsthand. Rebellious chakra system to small scrapes and bruises, his soulmate’s medical history blossoming onto his own flesh.

Sasuke’s chidori breaks through the shell of sand; in the audience Shikako starts bleeding.

—

six: colorful eyes

Shikako can’t see shades of green.

Ino thinks she’s lucky, having a soulmate with such a beautiful eye color, but it’s pretty inconvenient considering they live in a forest.

… Almost as inconvenient as living in a desert and not being able to see shades of brown.

—

seven: first words

“It was just a misunderstanding. It was nice to meet you,” says the soul mark around Gaara’s bicep in hasty, slanted letters.

What mild words from the soulmate of a monster.

—

eight: polygraph skin

“I’m sorry for any trouble he caused,” an obvious lie, given Gaara’s complete lack of interest.

Elsewhere and elsewhen, Shikako would let it go, give a platitude of her own, and get the hell out of range–but here and now, his words are accompanied by a stinging sensation and the appearance of neat, blocky writing on the back of her hand.

“No you’re not,” she blurts out, less confrontational and more absolutely baffled.

—

nine: countdown to contact

The Nara twins grow up knowing that they’ll meet their soulmates within days of each other, probably when they’re genin.

The Sand Siblings grow up knowing the same.

Too bad they’re on opposite sides of an invasion when it happens.

~

A/N: Fill for this anon: three sentence fic with different Shikaara soulmate AUs! 

In case I wasn’t concise enough (though I hope I was) the AUs are the following:

1. soulmates are connected by an intangible red thread around their pinkies (visible only to the parties involved in this version)

2. whatever is written on one soulmate’s skin appears on the other

3. pretty self explanatory… presumably soulmates dream at the same time or dreamscape is outside of time–I liked this one better than the one dreams what the other sees while awake and vice versa

4. a timer on your body counting down to when your soulmate is going to die–luckily for Shikako, Gaara gets better. Luckily(?) for Gaara, Shikako’s a reincarnation and so technically already dead(?)… regardless, she gets better, too.

5. also self explanatory, I think… I feel like the Gaara of this world would be vastly different having grown up with Shikako’s pain, but I don’t know how

6. a person can’t see shades of whatever their soulmate’s eye color is until they actually meet. I’m a little unsure how this works with people who are soulmates with a Hyuuga, though…

7-9. Chapter Sixteen of DoS was very helpful. 7 is the “traditional” first words soulmates say to each other is their soul mark. 8 is less traditional, in that whenever soulmates lie to each other it shows up on their skin. 9 is also also self explanatory.

Post Word Count: 415, Running Word Count: 7304

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Let’s begin with a thank you:
To those who have come before us.
To those who paved the way,
To those who fought long ago,
Long before we even dreamed to.

Let’s begin with a thank you:
To friends long forgotten,
To friends who we lost,
To friends who faded from heart and mind,
To friends who are forever.

Let’s begin with a thank you,
For it’s that time of year:
Weather turned cold,
Wind blowing sharp.
Blankets and body heat together.

—

Glittering chain of lights,
everyone rushing home,
sins and hangovers,
washed away with coffee.

Desert heat, dry dusty winds,
hole in the wall restaurants.
The King of Pork says hello,
as we stretch stiff muscles.

Music plays, shuffled and looped,
an endless stream of sounds.
No speaking, no arguing,
just the smooth rhythm
rubber on the road.

Speed, weaving, signal lights.
Sunlight glaring through the clouds,
Two lane streets, air conditioning,
Fruit stands bursting with color.
Miles counting upward.

jacksgreyson, Untitled (2016-11-20)

Missed Post (2016-11-19)

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It’s early for this, I know, but I’m hanging out with some people friends and I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna get home before midnight.

… and I might not be able to post tomorrow either since I’ll be heading to Vegas for the week and the drive is over 8 hours long. :/ We’ll see.

edit: I don’t know why I put people instead of friends? like… way to make it sound super suspicious, self.

Heathens Outside And Ready, a different Team Seven ficlet (2016-11-18)

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Shikako is the first to leave.

Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say she never came back to begin with, walking from battlefield to traveler’s roads to places in need of exploration.

Warrior to wanderer, seamless.

—

First she is invited to Wind Country, as friend and scholar both, to research the remains of the Gelel Empire.

She is invited to a great many places after that–Snow Country, Land of Birds, Land of the Moon–retracing her own steps and the steps of civilizations long gone.

Alone, she wanders, aimless.

—

Sasuke is next–eagerly shaking off the limits and legacies from Konoha.

The tangled, dusty, and sticky cobwebs of the past brushed away to make way for the future, for a new Uchiha clan.

It’s time for Sasuke to follow his own path.

—

He catches up to her in the high stony mountains of Lightning Country, or maybe in the marshy lowlands in the Land of Tea, or perhaps its the small island of Wave atop the bridge bearing the name of their missing teammate.

Regardless, they are reunited, the hawk and the deer.

Paths are better when walked together.

—

Naruto is last, only because he spends so long resisting the call, trying to fit into a role never written for him.

Before, with Ero-sennin, traveling was training, was a mission, was an obstacle to overcome so that he could finally come back home to Konoha.

Except home isn’t Konoha, it never was: home is his friends.

—

He looks wan in the beginning, pale and tired, lifeless–that blazing spirit drained out of him in a way that war couldn’t dampen.

They wait for him in the ruins of Uzushio, a place as vibrant as the people it once was home to.

But it’s not theirs, a mere waypoint, a rest stop to revitalize and reconnect and ready themselves for the journey of their lives.

—

Kakashi enjoys a rare moment of calm, quiet solitude.

The Hokage’s hat is a heavier burden than he thought–certainly not one that he ever wanted–and it’s time to pass it down.

Sakura is more than capable, having spent the years learning at his shoulder; maybe Kakashi can join his other students for an adventure.

~

A/N: Fill for the two anon who wanted platonic wanderlust!Team Seven as nomadic badasses with a little bit of Kakashi and Sakura. Seven sets of three sentence fic makes twenty one–hence the title!

Post Word Count: 365, Running Word Count: 6728

Into Thin Air x Naruto ficlet (2016-11-17)

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“Fuyu-san,” a voice says, young and hesitant and easily ignored.

Windy isn’t interested in getting involved. Isn’t interested in anything.

“Fuyu-san,” the voice repeats, coming closer, not catching the hint at all.

Zie sighs, shaking out of hir stupor, turning to face her… nephew.

Coloring and spiky hair aside, Naruto doesn’t look much like her brother. Face rounder, skin darker, and while the furrowing of his brows isn’t too far off, it doesn’t suit Naruto’s face.

“U-intaa-san?” Naruto tries, accent stumbling over the pronunciation of Windy’s Turk name.

“Fuyu is okay,” zie assures, hir own accent no doubt odd to his ears. Winter was trained to understand Wutaian, but there didn’t seem to be much use in teaching him how to speak it–no one would believe any version of Windy to be of Wutaian heritage.

And the language of the Elemental Nations isn’t quite Wutaian… not anymore.

Naruto still looks hesitant, and for all that Windy is miserable that doesn’t mean he deserves to be.

She smiles, or tries to, and Naruto gives a shaky smile in return.

Once, Winter was the best actor of the Turks, capable of charming anyone; oh, how the mighty have fallen. (Once, Windy remembers being stabbed through the chest, eyes closing for what should have been the final time.)

“Naruto here, why?” zie asks, gesturing to the sparsely furnished room that is all zie has in this strange place (time).

“Food!” Naruto says with a truer grin, “Ramen!” he clarifies, a little unnecessarily.

Ever since the old man–Ho-ka-ge, zie has to remember–gave them an apartment for two, it seems as if every other meal is ramen. She’d worry about malnutrition, if she cared at all.

Naruto waits, reaching toward her but not touching, letting her decide.

He deserves better than a distant relative who can’t speak properly and needs to be taken care of and doesn’t do anything. He deserves better than Windy.

But fate has never been kind to Strifes, and they’re all each other has.

Zie takes his hand.

—

Winter’s suit is packed away, too sharp and too cruel for this world of color and brightness. Instead, Windy wears borrowed clothes–ironically enough, it’s still a dark blue uniform.

Though without the green combat vest and the strange metal plate with the symbol of Ko-no-ha, the uniform looks more like pajamas or sweats. Regardless, Naruto beams when she emerges from her room, and rattles off a sentence too quick for her to understand.

Zie thinks maybe it was a compliment, or an attempt at one, something about looking like a shinobi.

Shinobi, Windy understands, is what the military call themselves. Ninja is the term civilians use.

On their way to the ramen stand, Windy catches flickers of movement in hir peripheral vision–black cloaks and bone white masks–and wonders what those hidden guards are called.

Naruto continues to chatter, heedless of whether zie is understanding, much less responding. His facial expressions and wild hand gestures are far more engaging than his words, from what zie can interpret he’s talking about fighting someone who is grumpy.

As they near the ramen stand, Naruto calls out, a greeting to his team.

Windy tries not to freeze in place.

Sephiroth, the silver hair warns her. Murderer, run away, Sephiroth.

Hir steps do not falter.

Naruto rushes ahead to take a seat beside his female teammate, splitting his time between fawning over her and ordering a bowl, which somehow leaves the only free seat next to his teacher.

He does not do Windy the discourtesy of turning around and watching, but she can still sense a vibe of attentiveness as she meets the challenge.

“Miso please,” Windy says to Ichiraku-san, and waits for the other shoe to drop.

~

A/N: Uuum… my brain is still mostly in Naruto mode, but I stumbled on some FFVII stuff and I ended up with this?

Oh, snap! It’s been over a year since I touched the Into Thin Air tag.

So… uh, have some depressed and paranoid and traumatized Windy Strife?

Post Word Count: 619, Running Word Count: 6363