(pointless blather, and some crispy fried pr0ns.)
So, latest chapters of Naruto, and stuff. People keep saying that Gaara is dead, blahdeblah. I honestly don't think he is; it would be a remarkably bad move on Kishimoto's part to remove him from the plot this soon.
Mostly this is because he has so much potential to be really frickin' awesome, and this is a shounen manga- it's all about people being really frickin' awesome. But it's also because Naruto promised he would rescue Gaara, and I think it's important to Naruto's character development that he actually succeed in saving him.
There are too many parallels between the promise he made to Sakura and the promise he made to Temari and Kankurou for him to fail, if you ask me. And the fact that Gaara hasn't had people in his life like Naruto did keeps getting stressed, over and over- but at the same time, the actions of the village and his siblings proves that this really isn't true anymore. He has to survive so that the next time Kishimoto decides to compare him to Naruto, he can have a little panel full of little people standing around him, just like Naruto does. (And because yes, I am in denial. Leave me alone.)
And now I give you your moment of Blindsided- now with half the plot and 30% more porn!
(No, seriously. That whole discussion up there was just to keep my sad, sad attempts at porniness from showing up at the top of my flist.)
---
When Naruto opened the door to his apartment, he was expecting a number of things, most of them perfectly mundane- what he was not expecting was the sight of Gaara pinning Sasuke's wrists to the wall with tendrils of sand.
The sand was going to leave chafe marks, Naruto noted. And, given that Sasuke was wearing short sleeves these days, those marks would probably be more visible than the ones Gaara was leaving on his neck. Stupid high-collared shirts.
Then Sasuke made a noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper, and Naruto wondered why he was thinking about wrists when Gaara had one hand down Sasuke's pants and the other tangled in his hair to force his head back. There was already a line of lurid red marks circling that exposed, pale neck; Gaara pulled away a little to survey his handiwork, then leaned forward to capture Sasuke's already kiss-swollen lips with his own.
The noise Sasuke made in response to that was halfway between a moan and pure sex, and Naruto was starting to feel distincly light-headed.
It was at that point that he realized his apartment was on fire- literally. The couch was smouldering and the coffee table was smashed into kindling; there was smoke pouring from no less than three of the numerous holes in the walls.
I'm going to kill them both. I'm going to kill them both so hard, it won't even be funny.
In the back of his head, the Kyuubi woke up briefly. I think it's hilarious.
Shut up, you.
--
(And now you all know exactly why I am writing this stupid story. FATALITY.)
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Musings
it's never dark enough
the sun lingers with
a long goodbye, clings
to the horizon like a child
the fireflies are
yellow-green and lethargic
(lightning bugs, not lightning strikes;
a thousand wrong words
to light up the night)
a reflection in the window;
it might be the moon,
but it isn't- just a streetlight
when I close my eyes, I see stars;
open, I breathe air gone stale,
like breadcrumbs and dreams.
their shelf life is immeasurable,
maybe. I never think to check
for the expiration date.
--
Just ramblings, as the title suggests: half complete thoughts. The lack of capital letters is artsy, not an indication of laziness. (No, really. Would I lie?)
the sun lingers with
a long goodbye, clings
to the horizon like a child
the fireflies are
yellow-green and lethargic
(lightning bugs, not lightning strikes;
a thousand wrong words
to light up the night)
a reflection in the window;
it might be the moon,
but it isn't- just a streetlight
when I close my eyes, I see stars;
open, I breathe air gone stale,
like breadcrumbs and dreams.
their shelf life is immeasurable,
maybe. I never think to check
for the expiration date.
--
Just ramblings, as the title suggests: half complete thoughts. The lack of capital letters is artsy, not an indication of laziness. (No, really. Would I lie?)
What Remains, Part 2
ff.net
ficwad
Pointless Obito angst for the sake of exposition. I'm only writing these earlier scenes for the sake of the later scenes with the kids, which was the original intent of the whole concept- Obito survives the war and the Uchiha massacre, thus changing Kakashi, Sasuke, and Naruto's lives completely.
Somehow Kakashi ends up even more screwed up with Obito alive. Dunno how that works. (I blame it all on the gay, really. (Oho, you thought this was just crazy genfic, didn't you! ...well, it is. But never mind.) I blame everything on that.) But to make up for that, Sasuke is almost normal, sort of. (Not really.) And Naruto isn't completely miserable.
My genre of choice is weird AU. *sigh* Man...
ficwad
Pointless Obito angst for the sake of exposition. I'm only writing these earlier scenes for the sake of the later scenes with the kids, which was the original intent of the whole concept- Obito survives the war and the Uchiha massacre, thus changing Kakashi, Sasuke, and Naruto's lives completely.
Somehow Kakashi ends up even more screwed up with Obito alive. Dunno how that works. (I blame it all on the gay, really. (Oho, you thought this was just crazy genfic, didn't you! ...well, it is. But never mind.) I blame everything on that.) But to make up for that, Sasuke is almost normal, sort of. (Not really.) And Naruto isn't completely miserable.
My genre of choice is weird AU. *sigh* Man...
Monday, June 27, 2005
Seventh Hour
Marcus is a fixture in the corner, brooding and playing with fire. No one speaks to him; it is less the witch fire that dances on his fingertips, and more the way he glares, as though he is perfectly willing to put his fist into the face of anyone who looks at him, witch fire and all.
No one looks at him, not even the barmaid who brings him his drink. No one looks, but everyone sees the rows of pinprick scars that line his face. Some of them even know what those scars mean- but it isn't their place to ask what a Priest of the Hours is doing in a run-down tavern in the slums of Ur.
People talk, though. People always talk. Some say he is on the run from something, that he is hiding. Those that recognize the scars and the witch fire only laugh. An Hour Priest has nothing to hide from, nothing to fear. The very idea of it is almost blasphemy.
Others say he is waiting for something, for someone. A woman, maybe; he has that look to him, pain gathered in the corners of his eyes. Those that know the old traditions laugh at that, too; what use does an Hour Priest have for women? Their only loves are the flames and the clock.
A man, then, someone suggests. A friend, an enemy. Death, perhaps- isn't that who we all wait for, at the end of the Lost Hour? That seems more likely, though the Clock hasn't struck in years, and no one remembers anything of the Hours beyond basest superstition.
Marcus sits in the corner and plays with fire, unconcerned by the speculation. If anyone were to ask- not that anyone would dare, not when the witch fire settles in a way that is too familiar for comfort around his hair- he would simply say he is enjoying the drink and the atmosphere. It's as true a lie as any, he thinks.
He knows what he is waiting for. It is neither man nor woman, friend or enemy. It is not death, because he has met death far too often to bother waiting for such a persistent acquaintence.
There is a tiny, barred window in his little corner; it showcases the barest slice of sky. He imagines, on days when he doesn't just come to brood over the fire and the beer, that if he watches the window long enough, he'll see the moon rise.
It never does.
---------
I never write Marcus. Yeesh. In fact, I don't think I've ever done a Marcus fragment before. Seventh Hour doesn't fragment well. (It doesn't, in fact, do anything well, except maybe give me horrible splitting headaches.)
Really, it's unlikely that anyone would recognize him as an Hour Priest by all of his multiple piercing scars...the fact that he can set things on fire with his brain is more of a tip off. Oh, well. There's a reason I've sort of given up on this universe...
No one looks at him, not even the barmaid who brings him his drink. No one looks, but everyone sees the rows of pinprick scars that line his face. Some of them even know what those scars mean- but it isn't their place to ask what a Priest of the Hours is doing in a run-down tavern in the slums of Ur.
People talk, though. People always talk. Some say he is on the run from something, that he is hiding. Those that recognize the scars and the witch fire only laugh. An Hour Priest has nothing to hide from, nothing to fear. The very idea of it is almost blasphemy.
Others say he is waiting for something, for someone. A woman, maybe; he has that look to him, pain gathered in the corners of his eyes. Those that know the old traditions laugh at that, too; what use does an Hour Priest have for women? Their only loves are the flames and the clock.
A man, then, someone suggests. A friend, an enemy. Death, perhaps- isn't that who we all wait for, at the end of the Lost Hour? That seems more likely, though the Clock hasn't struck in years, and no one remembers anything of the Hours beyond basest superstition.
Marcus sits in the corner and plays with fire, unconcerned by the speculation. If anyone were to ask- not that anyone would dare, not when the witch fire settles in a way that is too familiar for comfort around his hair- he would simply say he is enjoying the drink and the atmosphere. It's as true a lie as any, he thinks.
He knows what he is waiting for. It is neither man nor woman, friend or enemy. It is not death, because he has met death far too often to bother waiting for such a persistent acquaintence.
There is a tiny, barred window in his little corner; it showcases the barest slice of sky. He imagines, on days when he doesn't just come to brood over the fire and the beer, that if he watches the window long enough, he'll see the moon rise.
It never does.
---------
I never write Marcus. Yeesh. In fact, I don't think I've ever done a Marcus fragment before. Seventh Hour doesn't fragment well. (It doesn't, in fact, do anything well, except maybe give me horrible splitting headaches.)
Really, it's unlikely that anyone would recognize him as an Hour Priest by all of his multiple piercing scars...the fact that he can set things on fire with his brain is more of a tip off. Oh, well. There's a reason I've sort of given up on this universe...
Saturday, June 25, 2005
blahbity blah, and delayed reaction
SONYA. That was not funny.
...okay, yes it was. But my angst is like, totally better than Vanyel's angst, like hands down. Completely. Don't make me go kyree on you. XP
*sigh* But it looks like I'm going to have to get back in the habit of rhyming. Meh. I guess, when all else fails, I can quote Dr Seuss.
Because, really- "Would you, could you, with a goat?" (And this is where I pimp Found Objects, because I have decided that everything is Jeff's fault, and I do rather hope he starts updating again.)
Other things to pimp- if you have not watched House, MD, I suggest you start watching it. Yes, the medicine is of dubious nature, but the snark is unmatched, and once you get past the fact that Cameron is delusional, Chase is evil and repressed, and Foreman is the only sane and mature person there, you can enjoy the way House and Wilson interact (because they are so cutely dysfunctional, it hurts). Also, there's leprosy. Can't go wrong with leprosy. Lepers are like proto-zombies!
...okay, yes it was. But my angst is like, totally better than Vanyel's angst, like hands down. Completely. Don't make me go kyree on you. XP
*sigh* But it looks like I'm going to have to get back in the habit of rhyming. Meh. I guess, when all else fails, I can quote Dr Seuss.
Because, really- "Would you, could you, with a goat?" (And this is where I pimp Found Objects, because I have decided that everything is Jeff's fault, and I do rather hope he starts updating again.)
Other things to pimp- if you have not watched House, MD, I suggest you start watching it. Yes, the medicine is of dubious nature, but the snark is unmatched, and once you get past the fact that Cameron is delusional, Chase is evil and repressed, and Foreman is the only sane and mature person there, you can enjoy the way House and Wilson interact (because they are so cutely dysfunctional, it hurts). Also, there's leprosy. Can't go wrong with leprosy. Lepers are like proto-zombies!
Thursday, June 23, 2005
whinge whinge whinge, on a variety of topics
Okay, so I'm just going to not, y'know, think about the fact that the lj feed is up and working, because otherwise I'll just stop posting here. And I like posting here. So I won't think about it. Instead I'll think about how I'm listening to the Super Mario Bros 3 "Swingin' Porno" remix, because that makes me very happy. (...not thinking about it.)
I need my music back; I've been listening to yahoo launchcast because it's better than real radio, but apparently I can only listen to so many hours of it a month...and I've exceeded that. So now I'm resorting to OCremix's streaming radio. (This reminds me that I should get to work on my own remix, but I'm lazy. So lazy. And the files aren't on the computer anymore. *facepalm*) (...still not thinking about it.)
Writer's block irritates me, particularly when I'm this close to finishing things. I should disconnect from the internet and pull out the old notebooks and just scribble; anything but staring at a screen for another hour. Instead, I contemplate other characters that would be amusing at CFUD (The Lady Orlando! Vanyel Ashkevron! (ohgodtheangst! ...and the horrible, screaming wrongness. *absolutely does not dig out The Last Herald Mage for rereading*) Gau! Squall!) and poke at things to update themselves. (I don't actually expect to get in as Ophelia; my app was remarkably unfunny because I don't write intentionally bad poetry well. It ends up being bad, just not humorously bad. *sigh* Also, Ophelia is angsty, but not in a funny way. (Can you tell this is me hoping I'll get rejected?)) (No thoughts, whatsoever.)
Actually did get some work done on BS4 (DEAR FIC: for gourd's sake, stop being so. fucking. wordy. kthnxbai), and I know what the next scene of What Remains is (and What Remains is really just my mind making up for the fact that I'm never going to expand Sorrows and Rejoicings- it's the same story. *facepalm*), so I suppose today hasn't been completely unproductive.
On second thought, yes it has. There was going to be a bit of Boffo angst to finish this off, but it was crappy and poorly thought out. Feh. (Thinking of nothing. Seriously. I swear.)
FATALITY. I think I need something to drink.
I need my music back; I've been listening to yahoo launchcast because it's better than real radio, but apparently I can only listen to so many hours of it a month...and I've exceeded that. So now I'm resorting to OCremix's streaming radio. (This reminds me that I should get to work on my own remix, but I'm lazy. So lazy. And the files aren't on the computer anymore. *facepalm*) (...still not thinking about it.)
Writer's block irritates me, particularly when I'm this close to finishing things. I should disconnect from the internet and pull out the old notebooks and just scribble; anything but staring at a screen for another hour. Instead, I contemplate other characters that would be amusing at CFUD (The Lady Orlando! Vanyel Ashkevron! (ohgodtheangst! ...and the horrible, screaming wrongness. *absolutely does not dig out The Last Herald Mage for rereading*) Gau! Squall!) and poke at things to update themselves. (I don't actually expect to get in as Ophelia; my app was remarkably unfunny because I don't write intentionally bad poetry well. It ends up being bad, just not humorously bad. *sigh* Also, Ophelia is angsty, but not in a funny way. (Can you tell this is me hoping I'll get rejected?)) (No thoughts, whatsoever.)
Actually did get some work done on BS4 (DEAR FIC: for gourd's sake, stop being so. fucking. wordy. kthnxbai), and I know what the next scene of What Remains is (and What Remains is really just my mind making up for the fact that I'm never going to expand Sorrows and Rejoicings- it's the same story. *facepalm*), so I suppose today hasn't been completely unproductive.
On second thought, yes it has. There was going to be a bit of Boffo angst to finish this off, but it was crappy and poorly thought out. Feh. (Thinking of nothing. Seriously. I swear.)
FATALITY. I think I need something to drink.
What Remains
What Remains, Fanfiction.net.
What Remains, Ficwad.com.
EDIT, 12 HOURS LATER: Ficwad version is actually slightly edited; ff.net version was posted very late at night because I couldn't frickin' sleep and sucks more than the other. (Both of them are kind of crappy, actually.)
So, you know that cracktastic Kakashi/Sasuke AU thing where Obito survives? ...um, yeah. Chapter one. Only it's less KakaSasu now, and more Obito changing the fate of the universe and lots of UST.
Good god, but I'm horrible to the characters I like. This is going to be worse than Sorrows and Rejoicings- and it's going to be chapters and chapters and chapters long.
The writing is pretty awful, because I hate writing action...thankfully, most of the later chapters are just character pieces and daily life things, because, ha, I'm a horrible person.
I'm going to regret posting this thing so, so much in the morning- particularly since I just spent the last hour trying to come up with a title. After exhausting T S Eliot, I tried Google- I wanted to make some allusion to the whole standing-to-the-left thing, but instead I just got a play on words that only I get, because it's more stupid than obscure. Kind of like me! *ded*
That's it, I'm going to bed.
What Remains, Ficwad.com.
EDIT, 12 HOURS LATER: Ficwad version is actually slightly edited; ff.net version was posted very late at night because I couldn't frickin' sleep and sucks more than the other. (Both of them are kind of crappy, actually.)
So, you know that cracktastic Kakashi/Sasuke AU thing where Obito survives? ...um, yeah. Chapter one. Only it's less KakaSasu now, and more Obito changing the fate of the universe and lots of UST.
Good god, but I'm horrible to the characters I like. This is going to be worse than Sorrows and Rejoicings- and it's going to be chapters and chapters and chapters long.
The writing is pretty awful, because I hate writing action...thankfully, most of the later chapters are just character pieces and daily life things, because, ha, I'm a horrible person.
I'm going to regret posting this thing so, so much in the morning- particularly since I just spent the last hour trying to come up with a title. After exhausting T S Eliot, I tried Google- I wanted to make some allusion to the whole standing-to-the-left thing, but instead I just got a play on words that only I get, because it's more stupid than obscure. Kind of like me! *ded*
That's it, I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
stuff
Just realized that apping Ophelia at CFUD was silly; I should have apped as Alex from Animist. Because, you know, he talks to animals. And he has a pet rat. And a large hat with feathers. And I wouldn't have to frickin' rhyme.
Maybe I'll start on an app for him soonish; will have to reread the book, of course. It's either him or Jake from The Dark Tower...but I'll have to read book seven first. *wibbles*
Meanwhile, working on the Jiraiya costume. *is filled with great joy* Life is shiny. So is twill. Mmm, soft fabric.
Maybe I'll start on an app for him soonish; will have to reread the book, of course. It's either him or Jake from The Dark Tower...but I'll have to read book seven first. *wibbles*
Meanwhile, working on the Jiraiya costume. *is filled with great joy* Life is shiny. So is twill. Mmm, soft fabric.
Stella Matin and Naruto- two great tastes that taste kind of angsty together
They'd been travelling for days; occasionally they would come across an empty outpost as they neared the border, places with cemetaries that stretched across fields. They grew gravestones instead of crops in places like these- or they had, when there were still people to bury.
Theron didn't feel guilty, but he hadn't expected to. The senseless slaughter of ten million souls didn't weigh on his conscience any more than the torture and mutilation of his closest- and only- friend.
They stopped at the last outpost before the border, bringing the total population of the place up to a whole six. The streets echoed with their steps; unlike the other outposts, which were sad collections of hovels, the border post contained a sizeable town. It had been inhabited mostly by pilgrims centuries ago, when the Fire Wall still burned.
Having a large population just meant larger cemetaries, though.
Bren found him perched on a mausoleum, looking out on the western road. "Still sulking?" Resurrection hadn't healed his voice; it still sounded like wind over gravel.
Theron didn't answer. He could still see pieces of Walker in Brenon's eyes, and he didn't like the way the bitterness looked on his friend. His opinions didn't matter anymore, though. They never really had- but now, they mattered even less.
-----
I know where I want this to go, but I don't know how to get it there. And even if I did, it's so completely unfair to both of them, I'm not sure I'd want to. (Theron's life sucks. A lot.)
I need to stop writing Stella Matin aftermath stuff and write the actual story.
In other news, I keep gnawing on Wind, Sand, and Bone/Stone (can't decide which yet), but I can't figure out where it's going. Temari is the wind part of the equation, obviously, and the part that represents hatred towards the present; Gaara is sand, hatred for the past, and love; Kankurou is the piece that bridges the two them, and represents stone, the static element- it's a completley shitty place to be, really, but somebody has to be there. He's also an actor in every way, and it's completely his fault I'm writing sandcest. (Sometimes the boy is so Prufrockian it hurts. *sigh*) I need more late late night inspiration and less inane babble, I think. But I do like parts of it; the writing pleases me, for the most part.
Excerpt:
Kankurou has no face of his own. He is a puppet whose puppeteer has long since moved on; rather than cutting the strings, he has chosen to tangle himself even further in them. He doesn't mind. It's easier that way- so much easier to let his brother and sister bury themselves in the tangled mess of him while they search for themselves. He loses track of which part he plays in the tragedy of their lives, sometimes, but Temari and Gaara never notice when he misplaces the script. He is a minor character, nothing more.
Theron didn't feel guilty, but he hadn't expected to. The senseless slaughter of ten million souls didn't weigh on his conscience any more than the torture and mutilation of his closest- and only- friend.
They stopped at the last outpost before the border, bringing the total population of the place up to a whole six. The streets echoed with their steps; unlike the other outposts, which were sad collections of hovels, the border post contained a sizeable town. It had been inhabited mostly by pilgrims centuries ago, when the Fire Wall still burned.
Having a large population just meant larger cemetaries, though.
Bren found him perched on a mausoleum, looking out on the western road. "Still sulking?" Resurrection hadn't healed his voice; it still sounded like wind over gravel.
Theron didn't answer. He could still see pieces of Walker in Brenon's eyes, and he didn't like the way the bitterness looked on his friend. His opinions didn't matter anymore, though. They never really had- but now, they mattered even less.
-----
I know where I want this to go, but I don't know how to get it there. And even if I did, it's so completely unfair to both of them, I'm not sure I'd want to. (Theron's life sucks. A lot.)
I need to stop writing Stella Matin aftermath stuff and write the actual story.
In other news, I keep gnawing on Wind, Sand, and Bone/Stone (can't decide which yet), but I can't figure out where it's going. Temari is the wind part of the equation, obviously, and the part that represents hatred towards the present; Gaara is sand, hatred for the past, and love; Kankurou is the piece that bridges the two them, and represents stone, the static element- it's a completley shitty place to be, really, but somebody has to be there. He's also an actor in every way, and it's completely his fault I'm writing sandcest. (Sometimes the boy is so Prufrockian it hurts. *sigh*) I need more late late night inspiration and less inane babble, I think. But I do like parts of it; the writing pleases me, for the most part.
Excerpt:
Kankurou has no face of his own. He is a puppet whose puppeteer has long since moved on; rather than cutting the strings, he has chosen to tangle himself even further in them. He doesn't mind. It's easier that way- so much easier to let his brother and sister bury themselves in the tangled mess of him while they search for themselves. He loses track of which part he plays in the tragedy of their lives, sometimes, but Temari and Gaara never notice when he misplaces the script. He is a minor character, nothing more.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
fangirling
I love Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex beyond words. No fucking words.
Batou? The best character ever. Aside from Togusa, the Major, and the Tachikoma, that is. I love them all so hard it isn't even funny. They're amazingly shiny.
Mostly, though, my love is for Batou and his cigarettes, his ponytail, his prosthetics, his sense of humor, his love for the Tachikoma (and totally unrequited love for the Major and Togusa), the way he picks fights, and just everything about him, really. So much love. (He's an anti-bishounen, but this does not stop hiim from being incredibly hot. Rrawr, older men in anime.)
I want to write fic, but I haven't seen enough of the series. We all know I have a weakness for eyes, though, and right now the prosthetic blindspot thing is giving me chills because it just makes Batou seventy eight thousand times better. *love* Picture...in wallet...gah. So wonderful. And there's going to be a second season, yaye. I am in severe series-lust here- I know what most of my Otakon swag is going to consist of now. *does the happy swag dance* (It only just occurred to me that yes, I am going to be able to get scads and scads of swag at discount prices in two months because yes, I really am going to Otakon. Huzzah!)
Batou? The best character ever. Aside from Togusa, the Major, and the Tachikoma, that is. I love them all so hard it isn't even funny. They're amazingly shiny.
Mostly, though, my love is for Batou and his cigarettes, his ponytail, his prosthetics, his sense of humor, his love for the Tachikoma (and totally unrequited love for the Major and Togusa), the way he picks fights, and just everything about him, really. So much love. (He's an anti-bishounen, but this does not stop hiim from being incredibly hot. Rrawr, older men in anime.)
I want to write fic, but I haven't seen enough of the series. We all know I have a weakness for eyes, though, and right now the prosthetic blindspot thing is giving me chills because it just makes Batou seventy eight thousand times better. *love* Picture...in wallet...gah. So wonderful. And there's going to be a second season, yaye. I am in severe series-lust here- I know what most of my Otakon swag is going to consist of now. *does the happy swag dance* (It only just occurred to me that yes, I am going to be able to get scads and scads of swag at discount prices in two months because yes, I really am going to Otakon. Huzzah!)
Sunday, June 19, 2005
roflcopter
I am a sad, sad excuse for a human being.
Whenever I see "lol," I don't think "laugh out loud," or even the syllable "lol."
I think TIE Fighter.
*fails at everything*
Whenever I see "lol," I don't think "laugh out loud," or even the syllable "lol."
I think TIE Fighter.
*fails at everything*
spam spam spam spammity spam...
BS4 sucks more than I have words to describe, because Kankurou won't stop talking. >_< I think I'll cut it down to two scenes, though I kind of want to include a brief Sasuke interlude- but I'm tired of this chapter already, and I'm not even done with the Kankurou scene. I need to do a Naruto scene still, and I have no idea what's going to happen in it. *sigh* (I do love Kankurou, but this scene is just dragging.)
Also, it may look like I have a plot, but I really don't. Something needs to actually happen in Konoha while Naruto and Gaara are courting (like butterflies!) and Sasuke needs to actually get something done while he's running, but I've got no idea what. (That's a lie. I have vague ideas, but none of them are important enough to actually include in the story, and the pacing keeps throwing me off.) I hate to be the sort of person who goes back and edits chapters as I go, but I might have to just to keep my continuity happy.
Meanwhile, I'm working on Sand, Wind, and Stone (working title; other possibilites are Sandstorm, Wooden Mask, or Triangle, though I don't like any of them quite as much), because I love the sandsibs. Temari's section is nearly done, Kankurou still won't stop talking, and I can't figure out Gaara's part- but otherwise, I'm quite fond of it. Fair Play is still my best piece of Naruto fic, I think once I'm done with this, I'll like it more than TC,B and it may be better than Fair Play (it's longer, though, and more of a niche piece)...but it's sandcest, sort of, and that still makes me twitch slightly, and is likely to make other people twitch, too. (Why is the Naruto fandom so full of incest? Seriously, people, this is ridiculous.)
I might call it Middle Child, but it isn't just about Kankurou (that's a lie, it totally is). At the moment, it's wordy like whoa, but the parallels make me happy, even if I'm laying it on a bit thick. (Hey, look, it's SYMBOLISM. Did you catch that METAPHOR? Wasn't it PRETTY?)
And, of course, my own imaginings about Sand politics and the color of Kankurou's hair color my view of the three of them, and my writing. ...Hm. I can't call it Tempest, that's the title of another completely awesome sandcest fic by Chevira Lowe...but perhaps there are other Shakespearean things I can steal from. *wanders off to look for quotes. Yay literary pretension!
Also, it may look like I have a plot, but I really don't. Something needs to actually happen in Konoha while Naruto and Gaara are courting (like butterflies!) and Sasuke needs to actually get something done while he's running, but I've got no idea what. (That's a lie. I have vague ideas, but none of them are important enough to actually include in the story, and the pacing keeps throwing me off.) I hate to be the sort of person who goes back and edits chapters as I go, but I might have to just to keep my continuity happy.
Meanwhile, I'm working on Sand, Wind, and Stone (working title; other possibilites are Sandstorm, Wooden Mask, or Triangle, though I don't like any of them quite as much), because I love the sandsibs. Temari's section is nearly done, Kankurou still won't stop talking, and I can't figure out Gaara's part- but otherwise, I'm quite fond of it. Fair Play is still my best piece of Naruto fic, I think once I'm done with this, I'll like it more than TC,B and it may be better than Fair Play (it's longer, though, and more of a niche piece)...but it's sandcest, sort of, and that still makes me twitch slightly, and is likely to make other people twitch, too. (Why is the Naruto fandom so full of incest? Seriously, people, this is ridiculous.)
I might call it Middle Child, but it isn't just about Kankurou (that's a lie, it totally is). At the moment, it's wordy like whoa, but the parallels make me happy, even if I'm laying it on a bit thick. (Hey, look, it's SYMBOLISM. Did you catch that METAPHOR? Wasn't it PRETTY?)
And, of course, my own imaginings about Sand politics and the color of Kankurou's hair color my view of the three of them, and my writing. ...Hm. I can't call it Tempest, that's the title of another completely awesome sandcest fic by Chevira Lowe...but perhaps there are other Shakespearean things I can steal from. *wanders off to look for quotes. Yay literary pretension!
Whisky Tango Foxtrot?
I shouldn't feel the need to respond to comments left on entries made in September by a person who found the blog searching for something that isn't here. Shouldn't. Person who left the comment will probably never return here, thus negating any point in my making a rebuttal. (Could leave a comment on commenter's devart page, but that would be excessive, and I don't want to risk starting anything with a random person who didn't even mean to find the blog.)
(I've been getting comments left by random people more frequently these days- it's a strange and delightful thing, though it does make me feel slightly self conscious, and makes me wonder where all of you are coming from.) (Which is silly of me to wonder, since I've got the tracker for a reason.)
Anyway. The comment was on my one post on Hellsing yaoi, and how it makes no sense whatsoever- and I still hold that it doesn't, because even if Alucard and Anderson didn't read as completely asexual to me (which, I will admit, is simply a matter of my own perception), Anderson simply wouldn't allow it. My objections to the pairing lie mostly in the fact that, no matter how much Alucard may enjoy screwing with people's heads, Anderson is a religious fanatic hellbent (pardon the pun) on destroying everything that Alucard is. The key word there is "fanatic." You can't force a crisis of faith on a robot, which is essentially what Anderson is- so I can't see that Alucard would get any satisfaction out of screwing him if he were only doing it to screw with his head. Anderson wouldn't react- nothing Alucard could do to him would come as a surprise. And Alcuard would have to catch him first, which would be rather difficult since Anderson is a regenerating psychopath with lots of knives and no reason whatsoever to cooperate.
*sigh* I think I'm so bothered because the comment was slightly rude, came completely out of left field (I wrote that post months ago, and the date was very clearly right above it- I know Google links to the archives, but still), and misinterpreted my entry (to a point- the basic gist of it was pretty clear). I mostly only wrote that post because of the bizarre number of Alucard/Anderson fluff fics- since I generally find stories that create a pairing solely for the purpose of doing violence to one of the characters in it to be incredibly distasteful and not worth commenting on even to complain about. Personal preference- I like fluff, so long as it makes sense (says the girl writing Naruto crack and angst, ahaha hypocrisy is so delicious it is like pie).
Meh. Occasionally I am left bewildered by the universe.
Incoherent Naruto squee
You know what? I don't care what Deidara said. Bastard can't even be honest about his gender (yeah, shut up, I still think he's incredibly girly, even if he isn't a girl), how am I supposed to believe him when he says Gaara's dead, huh? I refuse to believe it. Won't do it. If Gaara's actually dead, Naruto had better bust out with some crazy Kyuubi shit (yes, that jutsu) and wipe the stupid artiste off the face of the planet, for serious, yo. *pissy*
On the other hand, Sasori needs to stop being awesome, because right now he's competing with Kisame for my favorite gratuitous bad guy. Dead puppet bodies! (This makes Sand, Wind, and Stone and Bone Harvester that much more plausible, and I seriously need to finish them.) I love it- the Akatsuki are all freaks, and I love them. They're not really evil, they're just misunderstood. (I hate Deidara, though, and I still think Itachi is a pussy. No, this has nothing to do with the way they mistreated Gaara and Sasuke respectively, I swear.)
I vaguely wish I were watching the anime, since the filler has Kabuto in it, but I don't care that much. The Kabuto in my head isn't going to change (he's still upset about not being allowed the zombie baby) no matter what the anime does with him.
On the other hand, Sasori needs to stop being awesome, because right now he's competing with Kisame for my favorite gratuitous bad guy. Dead puppet bodies! (This makes Sand, Wind, and Stone and Bone Harvester that much more plausible, and I seriously need to finish them.) I love it- the Akatsuki are all freaks, and I love them. They're not really evil, they're just misunderstood. (I hate Deidara, though, and I still think Itachi is a pussy. No, this has nothing to do with the way they mistreated Gaara and Sasuke respectively, I swear.)
I vaguely wish I were watching the anime, since the filler has Kabuto in it, but I don't care that much. The Kabuto in my head isn't going to change (he's still upset about not being allowed the zombie baby) no matter what the anime does with him.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
More Dreamscape!Naruto shiz
Naruto was whistling while he hacked into the security mainframe; it was one of his many annoying habits. Sasuke couldn't stand it, because the whistling was always a prelude to singing.
"Oh, Mr. Sandman...send me a dream, bum bum bum- make her the sweetest girl that I've ever seen, bum bum bum..." He ripped a pair of wires out of the terminal box and bit the insulation off the ends.
It was just one assignment, Sasuke reminded himself. One assignment, and then he had leave time, and he wouldn't have to see or hear Naruto for two whole weeks. The temptation to kick the idiot was unbearable.
Naruto seemed completely oblivious to his partner's irritation- in fact, he'd begun giggling. He had to put the wires down and pull out of the terminal for a moment so he could bury his face in his hands to muffle his sniggering.
"What the fuck is so funny, Foxface?" Sasuke hissed. He hated crawling around maintainence tunnels; there wasn't any room to dodge in them and they smelled funny.
"Get off my channel, Sandy-butt. I'm busy." Naruto's goggles had gone opaque, meaning he was getting a visual from somewhere else- or he was just being difficult.
"What?" Sasuke hated it when Naruto spoke in nonsense. It would have been tolerable if only he didn't do it so often.
"I'm not talkin' to you, grumpy pants." Naruto sniggered again. "We gab droog-droogoo some other click, Sandy-butt. Shut your pie- oh." His laughter took on a slightly breathless edge; he wasn't talking to Sasuke anymore.
"I swear to god, if you're cybering with Sandman while we're on assignment, I will kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting my foot until next payday." He grabbed Naruto by the hair and shook him firmly, careful to not dislodge the goggles.
The opaque display fizzled out; the red lenses made Naruto's normally blue eyes appear black. He gave Sasuke one long, unreadable stare and flicked the opacity back on. "Touch me again an' I'll rip your throat out, bastard." His fingernails extended into claws, which he buried into the mess of wires and circuitry in front of him.
"Are we playing nice, children?" Kakashi approached with a soft whirr and click of gears. "Is the security system down yet, Rat?"
The line of Naruto's shoulder's tensed, and he gave a final, vicious twist to the wires in the box. "Yeah. We good to go."
Kakashi smiled. "Good. Let's get this over with."
Sasuke ignored the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and adjusted the harness on his weapons. One assignment, that was all. He brushed a line of mildew off the sleeve of his jacket. He hated working underground.
--
Okay, that's all I've got, beyond people explaining the Naruto plot in Dreamscape terms. (Instead of jinchuriiki, there are Rat Princes. And the Akatsuki are just another Super Villain team...But I'm not sure how the Rat Queen translates into Naruto.) And, for the record, Gaara wasn't actually sending Naruto porn, just pictures of swimsuit models with Sasuke's face superimposed on them. The sandsiblings are all Rats, of course, since Gaara would be Prince Unit 01. ("Sandman" is probably one of the better code names; Kankurou is "Puppet Master," but Temari is stuck being "Fangirl." Ouch. Better than Tenten; her alias is either "Token" or "Meatball," because I'm really not putting any effort into this.)
Right, I'm done.
"Oh, Mr. Sandman...send me a dream, bum bum bum- make her the sweetest girl that I've ever seen, bum bum bum..." He ripped a pair of wires out of the terminal box and bit the insulation off the ends.
It was just one assignment, Sasuke reminded himself. One assignment, and then he had leave time, and he wouldn't have to see or hear Naruto for two whole weeks. The temptation to kick the idiot was unbearable.
Naruto seemed completely oblivious to his partner's irritation- in fact, he'd begun giggling. He had to put the wires down and pull out of the terminal for a moment so he could bury his face in his hands to muffle his sniggering.
"What the fuck is so funny, Foxface?" Sasuke hissed. He hated crawling around maintainence tunnels; there wasn't any room to dodge in them and they smelled funny.
"Get off my channel, Sandy-butt. I'm busy." Naruto's goggles had gone opaque, meaning he was getting a visual from somewhere else- or he was just being difficult.
"What?" Sasuke hated it when Naruto spoke in nonsense. It would have been tolerable if only he didn't do it so often.
"I'm not talkin' to you, grumpy pants." Naruto sniggered again. "We gab droog-droogoo some other click, Sandy-butt. Shut your pie- oh." His laughter took on a slightly breathless edge; he wasn't talking to Sasuke anymore.
"I swear to god, if you're cybering with Sandman while we're on assignment, I will kick your ass so hard you'll be tasting my foot until next payday." He grabbed Naruto by the hair and shook him firmly, careful to not dislodge the goggles.
The opaque display fizzled out; the red lenses made Naruto's normally blue eyes appear black. He gave Sasuke one long, unreadable stare and flicked the opacity back on. "Touch me again an' I'll rip your throat out, bastard." His fingernails extended into claws, which he buried into the mess of wires and circuitry in front of him.
"Are we playing nice, children?" Kakashi approached with a soft whirr and click of gears. "Is the security system down yet, Rat?"
The line of Naruto's shoulder's tensed, and he gave a final, vicious twist to the wires in the box. "Yeah. We good to go."
Kakashi smiled. "Good. Let's get this over with."
Sasuke ignored the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and adjusted the harness on his weapons. One assignment, that was all. He brushed a line of mildew off the sleeve of his jacket. He hated working underground.
--
Okay, that's all I've got, beyond people explaining the Naruto plot in Dreamscape terms. (Instead of jinchuriiki, there are Rat Princes. And the Akatsuki are just another Super Villain team...But I'm not sure how the Rat Queen translates into Naruto.) And, for the record, Gaara wasn't actually sending Naruto porn, just pictures of swimsuit models with Sasuke's face superimposed on them. The sandsiblings are all Rats, of course, since Gaara would be Prince Unit 01. ("Sandman" is probably one of the better code names; Kankurou is "Puppet Master," but Temari is stuck being "Fangirl." Ouch. Better than Tenten; her alias is either "Token" or "Meatball," because I'm really not putting any effort into this.)
Right, I'm done.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Sonya, this is all your fault.
More Dreamscape stuff:
The cities are all located under domes a la just about any bad sci-fi novel you can think of; to get from city to city, you either get flopped (vernacular for being dropped out of the sky) or you take a hyperdimensional hallway. There's nothing wrong with the environment outside of the domes; it's actually fairly hospitable, weatherwise. But there are a few problems with nomads and dinosaurs, and the domes offer some small protection from flopping.
Flopping can happen to anyone, but you're more at risk if you're outside; the more you have over your head, the less likely you are to get picked up and dropped elsewhere. If you're picked up in a dome, you'll land in a dome, but nobody knows why. (I don't know why. It just happens.)
The society is very class-oriented; the aristocracy has so many tiers the walls at the census board look like a wedding cake. You can tell a noble's rank by his name; the more names, the closer his relation to the Emperor. Quinn and Leo, my original Dreamscape characters, are both upper tier nobles; Quinn has eight names, Leo has six. Nine names are reserved for direct relatives of the Emperor- Quinn is a distant cousin.
AU!Sasuke has three names; yeah, he's a noble, but he's only about half a step up from a well connected waffle peddler in terms of social status (granted, waffle peddler's are top tier members of society, but still).
The Rats have the most advanced technology, but they specialize in virtual reality and hacking, as well as nanodevices and implants. The League of Super Heroes and Villains steals Rat tech and modifies it to their own uses: the Villains make the best weapons, the Heroes make the best non-lethal but violent toys; they also specialize in modifying hyperdimensional spaces. The original hyperdimensional technology was developed by the Secular Order of Our Lady of the Unblemished Skies, and they're not saying where they got it from.
It's not exactly a cyberpunk world, above ground; you're as likely to see someone with a sword strapped to their back as you are someone carrying an assault rifle and clips of depleted uranium bullets. Cities aren't that different from those in our world- there's just less suburbia. Underground and in the slums is another matter, of course- the Mafia and other secret organizations are engaged in constant war- which would be why there are ninja.
It's a fun world, and it's pretty; it's the sort of world that really wants me to create a tabletop RPG out of it. There are certainly enough categories for characters. (You could be a brass noble with a whip, or a displaced kleptomanic fae...)
The cities are all located under domes a la just about any bad sci-fi novel you can think of; to get from city to city, you either get flopped (vernacular for being dropped out of the sky) or you take a hyperdimensional hallway. There's nothing wrong with the environment outside of the domes; it's actually fairly hospitable, weatherwise. But there are a few problems with nomads and dinosaurs, and the domes offer some small protection from flopping.
Flopping can happen to anyone, but you're more at risk if you're outside; the more you have over your head, the less likely you are to get picked up and dropped elsewhere. If you're picked up in a dome, you'll land in a dome, but nobody knows why. (I don't know why. It just happens.)
The society is very class-oriented; the aristocracy has so many tiers the walls at the census board look like a wedding cake. You can tell a noble's rank by his name; the more names, the closer his relation to the Emperor. Quinn and Leo, my original Dreamscape characters, are both upper tier nobles; Quinn has eight names, Leo has six. Nine names are reserved for direct relatives of the Emperor- Quinn is a distant cousin.
AU!Sasuke has three names; yeah, he's a noble, but he's only about half a step up from a well connected waffle peddler in terms of social status (granted, waffle peddler's are top tier members of society, but still).
The Rats have the most advanced technology, but they specialize in virtual reality and hacking, as well as nanodevices and implants. The League of Super Heroes and Villains steals Rat tech and modifies it to their own uses: the Villains make the best weapons, the Heroes make the best non-lethal but violent toys; they also specialize in modifying hyperdimensional spaces. The original hyperdimensional technology was developed by the Secular Order of Our Lady of the Unblemished Skies, and they're not saying where they got it from.
It's not exactly a cyberpunk world, above ground; you're as likely to see someone with a sword strapped to their back as you are someone carrying an assault rifle and clips of depleted uranium bullets. Cities aren't that different from those in our world- there's just less suburbia. Underground and in the slums is another matter, of course- the Mafia and other secret organizations are engaged in constant war- which would be why there are ninja.
It's a fun world, and it's pretty; it's the sort of world that really wants me to create a tabletop RPG out of it. There are certainly enough categories for characters. (You could be a brass noble with a whip, or a displaced kleptomanic fae...)
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Dreamscape
Most of my ideas come from other people; I take their original ideas and twist them, because I am an unoriginal hack. No, seriously. (Most of the time I do this unconsciously; I am horribly jealous of people who get actual, original ideas that aren't just regurgitations.)
Occasionally my ideas come from dreams- which are just regurgitations of daily events (am I fixated with vomit? Perhaps). Theron's story came from a dream, and then I incorporated it into my primary fantasy world. Dreamscape- because it refuses to call itself anything else- also came from a dream. Or rather, the main characters did, and the world built itself up after that, borrowing bits and pieces from other ideas and other people.
The world is sketchy, but that's the point- it's a universe without boundaries, where anything can happen. People fall out of the sky on a regular basis- no one is sure why, they just do. At any moment you could be teleported some place very far away and very high up; certain religious sects claim it happens because humanity pissed off the gods somehow. The nobility don't care so long as it doesn't happen to them; the league of super heroes makes it their job to assist floppers when they fall into strange or unhospitable areas.
The Rats are a society of outcasts who live under the cities, in sewers and maintainence tunnels. They're technophiles and mutants, and it's rare to see one of them above ground- the prejudice against them is excessive and vicious- but when you do see one, you know what you're looking at. They tend to have wires sprouting out of their skulls, or extra eyes.
They're peaceful, if somewhat mischevious- they're mostly harmless, but they have absolute control over the reality of their homes. So intruders usually get a mild mindfuck, a slap on the wrist, and an escort to the surface. For the most part, they keep to themselves, though a few will venture onto the surface to trade weapons and other tech on the black market. Some of them suffer from severe wanderlust, and have integrated themselves into various secret societies. Some of them set up businesses for themselves; Rats are generally welcome in city slums, where there are things far worse than them walking the streets.
Most of the Rats are cyborgs of some sort; those that aren't are slightly less than human. A lot of them are part fae, or super hero rejects. (This is the cheesiest world ever and I love it, even if I never write in it. The emperor of the universe runs a waffle cart, and his name is Oedipus. You can call him Oed.)
The only Rat characters I have worked out (other than crack!AU Naruto) are Threedy and Macintosh. Threedy's brain is mostly microchips, but her body is largely organic. She's a Trapper, which means she can hack just about any system, including the human brain. Mac just has a few modifications on his hands and eyes, since he's not actually a native Rat, and is, in fact, a transplant from a completely different story (one that involved religious wankery, aliens, and post-apocalyptic shennanigans- all in all, a run of the mill sort of story for me).
Crack!AU Naruto probably tried to Trap a ninja, and got recruited. No idea where the clockwork monstrosity Kakashi came from, aside from my deep and abiding love of steampunk and clockwork things.
Occasionally my ideas come from dreams- which are just regurgitations of daily events (am I fixated with vomit? Perhaps). Theron's story came from a dream, and then I incorporated it into my primary fantasy world. Dreamscape- because it refuses to call itself anything else- also came from a dream. Or rather, the main characters did, and the world built itself up after that, borrowing bits and pieces from other ideas and other people.
The world is sketchy, but that's the point- it's a universe without boundaries, where anything can happen. People fall out of the sky on a regular basis- no one is sure why, they just do. At any moment you could be teleported some place very far away and very high up; certain religious sects claim it happens because humanity pissed off the gods somehow. The nobility don't care so long as it doesn't happen to them; the league of super heroes makes it their job to assist floppers when they fall into strange or unhospitable areas.
The Rats are a society of outcasts who live under the cities, in sewers and maintainence tunnels. They're technophiles and mutants, and it's rare to see one of them above ground- the prejudice against them is excessive and vicious- but when you do see one, you know what you're looking at. They tend to have wires sprouting out of their skulls, or extra eyes.
They're peaceful, if somewhat mischevious- they're mostly harmless, but they have absolute control over the reality of their homes. So intruders usually get a mild mindfuck, a slap on the wrist, and an escort to the surface. For the most part, they keep to themselves, though a few will venture onto the surface to trade weapons and other tech on the black market. Some of them suffer from severe wanderlust, and have integrated themselves into various secret societies. Some of them set up businesses for themselves; Rats are generally welcome in city slums, where there are things far worse than them walking the streets.
Most of the Rats are cyborgs of some sort; those that aren't are slightly less than human. A lot of them are part fae, or super hero rejects. (This is the cheesiest world ever and I love it, even if I never write in it. The emperor of the universe runs a waffle cart, and his name is Oedipus. You can call him Oed.)
The only Rat characters I have worked out (other than crack!AU Naruto) are Threedy and Macintosh. Threedy's brain is mostly microchips, but her body is largely organic. She's a Trapper, which means she can hack just about any system, including the human brain. Mac just has a few modifications on his hands and eyes, since he's not actually a native Rat, and is, in fact, a transplant from a completely different story (one that involved religious wankery, aliens, and post-apocalyptic shennanigans- all in all, a run of the mill sort of story for me).
Crack!AU Naruto probably tried to Trap a ninja, and got recruited. No idea where the clockwork monstrosity Kakashi came from, aside from my deep and abiding love of steampunk and clockwork things.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Testing testing?
New layout. Think I'm finally getting the hang of this HTML thing...even if this is actually just a butchered version of something else. Still. It's new, it's vaguely shiny, and I'm pleased with it. (By which I mean, *stabstabstab* damn you, CSS.)
I'll try to fix the tiny text later on; for the moment, I am happy with it, and it doesn't strain my eyes, so nyah.
I'm going to see how well the blog works as an atom feed for LJ; given that I don't use proper formatting tags, it may require some tweaking that I will probably be too lazy to pursue. We shall see.
I was going to write about Dreamscape and the Rats, but I'm leaving in a bit, so perhaps I'll do that later.
Ta.
I'll try to fix the tiny text later on; for the moment, I am happy with it, and it doesn't strain my eyes, so nyah.
I'm going to see how well the blog works as an atom feed for LJ; given that I don't use proper formatting tags, it may require some tweaking that I will probably be too lazy to pursue. We shall see.
I was going to write about Dreamscape and the Rats, but I'm leaving in a bit, so perhaps I'll do that later.
Ta.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
New art. It's very silly fanart for a drabble by one of the lj people I stalk. It is shameless, and I do not care. :)
*pokes Blindsided* I want more reviews, dammit. *is whore*
...whoa. Okay. That's an interesting idea, right there.
-----
The maze of coridors seemed to go on forever, lit by harsh, flickering flouresence. The buzz of the lightbulbs filled the air with a constant static, broken only by the sound of water dripping from the exposed pipes.
It was disgusting to think people actually lived down here. "I don't see why we couldn't have just made the deal on the 'net. We don't actually need to get involved with this guy." Sasuke stepped around a scummy looking puddle, and glared at a mouse that scuttled across his shoe. He'd just gotten them polished, damnit.
"He's one of those whadya-callems, eccentric geniuses. Or somethin', I don't know. Grandma said he used to be the best in the business, still is, even, an' we need his help on this case. You're just mad that Sakura beat you at rock, paper, scissors, and now you're down here, gettin' your shoes dirty." His partner adjusted the red goggles over his eyes and grinned at him. The smile made the whisker-marks on his face scrunch up.
It was that grin that usually made Sasuke want to hit things- like his partner's face. "Don't use her name, moron. We're on assignment."
"Ch'. Don't be an asshole, nobody's around here but the rats. An' I always feel like an idiot callin' her "Flower Girl," you know?"
"You are an idiot, Foxface. It's the Rats I'm worried about."
"That's Foxfire, jackass- sorry, I meant Pink Eye. And there ain't none of those Rats here."
"Red Eye, not that I expect you to remember it. And you're here. All those wires in your head must've short circuited on you." Personally, Sasuke thought their code names were idiotic; the leader of their organization had been drunk when she came up with most of them. But rules were rules; you didn't use real names on assignment, no matter how much you hated your alias.
Naruto made a noise in the back of his throat halfway between a laugh and a snarl. "Christ, what crawled up your ass and died? Here, shut up- this's his door." He knocked on the rusting metal monolith; his fist made a metallic screeching nose when it scraped against the door.
A panel slid open with a groan, and a single bloodshot eye stared out at them. "Since when are the Rats and the Tax Collectors working together? I've paid all my dues. On time, too."
Naruto opened his mouth to speak, but Sasuke stepped forward to cut him off smoothly. "We're looking for a man named-" he stopped when Naruto elbowed him sharply with a glare and interrupted.
"This cat, he real cool, total haxed out, right? You know we catcha looksee? This real cool cat, we wanna cop a jive widdim, no mousetraps, de nada." The blond slipped into his native dialect easily, accompanying the words with a series of hand gestures that could have been meaningless, but probably weren't.
Rat jive still made no sense to Sasuke, no matter how long he'd spent on Naruto's team. It made sense to the man on the other side of the doorway though, because the single eye crinkled at the edges in amusement, and the door opened with a rusty complaint.
Sasuke stared at the aparition in the doorway; beside him, he heard Naruto swallow audibly. The man's right eye was still crinkled in a smile; instead of a left eye, he had a blinking red sensor light, set in a sheet of matte black metal that covered his entire face. A shock of tarnished-looking silver hair sprouted out of the top of his skull, which hovered six feet off the ground above a pile of rags. His clothes hid nearly all of his body, and trailed on the floor to cover his feet. Grandma hadn't told them they were dealing with a clockwork monstrosity.
"Ooh, you're cute! Old Frog didn't tell me he was sending children. Come on, don't just stand there, come in." He gestured to the darkened space behind him with an arm that ended in a three pronged mechanical claw.
Sasuke eyed the dark space warily. "You're-"
"Copycat Kakashi. That's all you really need to know. I don't need to know anything about you, you don't need to know anything about me, we work out the details of the job, I get paid, you disappear and never see or speak to me again." He was still smiling, which only made it creepier, given that they couldn't see his mouth. "You have a third team member, I hope?"
"Yeah. She's our ground support, we didn't-"
"Good enough. Come on. The sooner we get to work, the sooner you're out of my hair." Copycat turned and disappeared into his home, leaving Sasuke and Naruto standing on his doorstep.
"Crazy fucker," Naruto muttered.
Sasuke couldn't have agreed more.
-----
...For the record, that wasn't actually the interesting idea I got. >_< And I'm not actually going to write a cyberpunk Naruto AU, just like I'm not writing the West Side Story AU. I'm definitely not going to write this cyberpunk AU, because the universe they're in is my Dreamscape universe, and that place doesn't need anymore plots. (What it needs are viable ideas that actually know where they're going- something beyond "Quinn and Leo get attacked by things; wacky hijinx ensue." Not that I don't love their wacky hijinx, it's just that there's no plot, and I love the world. ...that's a lie, I love the Rats, but whatever.)
I am however, eventually going to finish the amputee!Obito AU, because he's a spaz and has great banter with Sasuke.
Mm. I love the term "clockwork monstrosity."
*pokes Blindsided* I want more reviews, dammit. *is whore*
...whoa. Okay. That's an interesting idea, right there.
-----
The maze of coridors seemed to go on forever, lit by harsh, flickering flouresence. The buzz of the lightbulbs filled the air with a constant static, broken only by the sound of water dripping from the exposed pipes.
It was disgusting to think people actually lived down here. "I don't see why we couldn't have just made the deal on the 'net. We don't actually need to get involved with this guy." Sasuke stepped around a scummy looking puddle, and glared at a mouse that scuttled across his shoe. He'd just gotten them polished, damnit.
"He's one of those whadya-callems, eccentric geniuses. Or somethin', I don't know. Grandma said he used to be the best in the business, still is, even, an' we need his help on this case. You're just mad that Sakura beat you at rock, paper, scissors, and now you're down here, gettin' your shoes dirty." His partner adjusted the red goggles over his eyes and grinned at him. The smile made the whisker-marks on his face scrunch up.
It was that grin that usually made Sasuke want to hit things- like his partner's face. "Don't use her name, moron. We're on assignment."
"Ch'. Don't be an asshole, nobody's around here but the rats. An' I always feel like an idiot callin' her "Flower Girl," you know?"
"You are an idiot, Foxface. It's the Rats I'm worried about."
"That's Foxfire, jackass- sorry, I meant Pink Eye. And there ain't none of those Rats here."
"Red Eye, not that I expect you to remember it. And you're here. All those wires in your head must've short circuited on you." Personally, Sasuke thought their code names were idiotic; the leader of their organization had been drunk when she came up with most of them. But rules were rules; you didn't use real names on assignment, no matter how much you hated your alias.
Naruto made a noise in the back of his throat halfway between a laugh and a snarl. "Christ, what crawled up your ass and died? Here, shut up- this's his door." He knocked on the rusting metal monolith; his fist made a metallic screeching nose when it scraped against the door.
A panel slid open with a groan, and a single bloodshot eye stared out at them. "Since when are the Rats and the Tax Collectors working together? I've paid all my dues. On time, too."
Naruto opened his mouth to speak, but Sasuke stepped forward to cut him off smoothly. "We're looking for a man named-" he stopped when Naruto elbowed him sharply with a glare and interrupted.
"This cat, he real cool, total haxed out, right? You know we catcha looksee? This real cool cat, we wanna cop a jive widdim, no mousetraps, de nada." The blond slipped into his native dialect easily, accompanying the words with a series of hand gestures that could have been meaningless, but probably weren't.
Rat jive still made no sense to Sasuke, no matter how long he'd spent on Naruto's team. It made sense to the man on the other side of the doorway though, because the single eye crinkled at the edges in amusement, and the door opened with a rusty complaint.
Sasuke stared at the aparition in the doorway; beside him, he heard Naruto swallow audibly. The man's right eye was still crinkled in a smile; instead of a left eye, he had a blinking red sensor light, set in a sheet of matte black metal that covered his entire face. A shock of tarnished-looking silver hair sprouted out of the top of his skull, which hovered six feet off the ground above a pile of rags. His clothes hid nearly all of his body, and trailed on the floor to cover his feet. Grandma hadn't told them they were dealing with a clockwork monstrosity.
"Ooh, you're cute! Old Frog didn't tell me he was sending children. Come on, don't just stand there, come in." He gestured to the darkened space behind him with an arm that ended in a three pronged mechanical claw.
Sasuke eyed the dark space warily. "You're-"
"Copycat Kakashi. That's all you really need to know. I don't need to know anything about you, you don't need to know anything about me, we work out the details of the job, I get paid, you disappear and never see or speak to me again." He was still smiling, which only made it creepier, given that they couldn't see his mouth. "You have a third team member, I hope?"
"Yeah. She's our ground support, we didn't-"
"Good enough. Come on. The sooner we get to work, the sooner you're out of my hair." Copycat turned and disappeared into his home, leaving Sasuke and Naruto standing on his doorstep.
"Crazy fucker," Naruto muttered.
Sasuke couldn't have agreed more.
-----
...For the record, that wasn't actually the interesting idea I got. >_< And I'm not actually going to write a cyberpunk Naruto AU, just like I'm not writing the West Side Story AU. I'm definitely not going to write this cyberpunk AU, because the universe they're in is my Dreamscape universe, and that place doesn't need anymore plots. (What it needs are viable ideas that actually know where they're going- something beyond "Quinn and Leo get attacked by things; wacky hijinx ensue." Not that I don't love their wacky hijinx, it's just that there's no plot, and I love the world. ...that's a lie, I love the Rats, but whatever.)
I am however, eventually going to finish the amputee!Obito AU, because he's a spaz and has great banter with Sasuke.
Mm. I love the term "clockwork monstrosity."
BS
Chapter 3 (Aff)
Also here, if you prefer ff.net. The aff one has better formatting and no pop-ups...but it also has those obnoxious banners at the top of the page, and it's colored strangely. *shrug*
Whatever, I'm a whore. And I'm glad that bloody chapter is done, as I had to rewrite half of it four times. Thank gourd chapter four is all sand sibling stuff- I actually like writing them.
It's sad that I actually do research to write this story; I've had to look up various things on snakes and sleep deprivation, and I'm sure I'll need to look up other things before I'm done. I am a sad, sad little fangirl. *sigh*
Also here, if you prefer ff.net. The aff one has better formatting and no pop-ups...but it also has those obnoxious banners at the top of the page, and it's colored strangely. *shrug*
Whatever, I'm a whore. And I'm glad that bloody chapter is done, as I had to rewrite half of it four times. Thank gourd chapter four is all sand sibling stuff- I actually like writing them.
It's sad that I actually do research to write this story; I've had to look up various things on snakes and sleep deprivation, and I'm sure I'll need to look up other things before I'm done. I am a sad, sad little fangirl. *sigh*
Friday, June 10, 2005
Moment of BS
This should have been connected to the last post, but eh, I'm lazy and this is easier.
And now for your moment of Blindsided:
"Let me see, you're socially inept but hide it by trying to be mysterious; you have a reputation for being sexually promiscuous but none of your lovers have ever seen your face, and you sleep around out of a combined need to distract yourself from reality and to punish yourself for perceived past failures. You wear a mask because you can't stand the sight of your own face, in addition to the obvious reasons, like your fear of intimacy and your childish need to call attention to yourself. You're suicidal but too much of a coward to go through with it, and you only befriend people you don't actually like so it won't hurt as much when- in your eyes- they abandon you." Iruka cocked his head to the side. "That was the short list."
"Is it my turn yet?" Kakashi did his level best to keep his voice from shaking. "You feel the need to lash out because you blame me for what happened to Naruto and Sasuke, and you blame yourself for the death of your teammates- which wasn't your fault- while simultaneously refusing to take responsibility for what you did to those academy students."
For a moment, he thought he'd won- Iruka had gone several shades paler, and his mouth had tightened into a thin line. But then the other man shook his head, laughing.
"What's the score so far?"
"Twelve and twelve. Was that another tie?"
"Sure. Thirteen, all. I'll buy tonight."
"No, let me. I still get paid more than you."
Iruka shook his head again, and smirked. "You bought last time. This isn't a date, Kakashi. I prefer to see people who don't wear their crazy on their sleeve- or face, as the case may be." He shouldered his pack and walked ahead.
As always, he was thankful for the way his mask hid his features. "Ouch, Iruka-sensei. That was harsh," he muttered.
"Fourteen-thirteen," Iruka called back. Kakashi hurried to catch up with him.
---
And now you all know why I'm never going to be able to write Kakairu again. *_*
Seventh Hour
Marcus is a fixture in the corner, brooding and playing with fire. No one speaks to him; it is less the witch fire that dances on his fingertips, and more the way he glares, as though he is perfectly willing to put his fist into the face of anyone who looks at him, witch fire and all.
No one looks at him, not even the barmaid who brings him his drink. No one looks, but everyone sees the rows of pinprick scars that line his face. Some of them even know what those scars mean- but it isn't their place to ask what a Priest of the Hours is doing in a run-down tavern in the slums of Ur.
People talk, though. People always talk. Some say he is on the run from something, that he is hiding. Those that recognize the scars and the witch fire only laugh. And Hour Priest has nothing to hide from, nothing to fear. The very idea of it is almost blasphemy.
Others say he is waiting for something, for someone. A woman, maybe; he has that look to him, pain gathered in the corners of his eyes. Those that know the old traditions laugh at that, too; what use does an Hour Priest have for women? Their only loves are the flames and the clock.
A man, then, someone suggests. A friend, an enemy. Death, perhaps- isn't that who we all wait for, at the end of the Lost Hour? That seems more likely, though the Clock hasn't struck in years, and no one remembers anything of the Hours beyond basest superstition.
Marcus sits in the corner and plays with fire, unconcerned by the speculation. If anyone were to ask- not that anyone would dare, not when the witch fire settles in a way that is too familiar for comfort around his hair- he would simply say he is enjoying the drink and the atmosphere. It's as true a lie as any, he thinks.
He knows what he is waiting for. It is neither man nor woman, friend or enemy. It is not death, because he has met death far too often to bother waiting for such a persistent acquaintence.
There is a tiny, barred window in his little corner; it showcases the barest slice of sky. He imagines, on days when he doesn't just come to brood over the fire and the beer, that if he watches the window long enough, he'll see the moon rise.
It never does.
---------
I never write Marcus. Yeesh. In fact, I don't think I've ever done a Marcus fragment before. Seventh Hour doesn't fragment well. (It doesn't, in fact, do anything well, except maybe give me horrible splitting headaches.)
Really, it's unlikely that anyone would recognize him as an Hour Priest by all of his multiple piercing scars...the fact that he can set things on fire with his brain is more of a tip off. Oh, well. There's a reason I've sort of given up on this universe...
No one looks at him, not even the barmaid who brings him his drink. No one looks, but everyone sees the rows of pinprick scars that line his face. Some of them even know what those scars mean- but it isn't their place to ask what a Priest of the Hours is doing in a run-down tavern in the slums of Ur.
People talk, though. People always talk. Some say he is on the run from something, that he is hiding. Those that recognize the scars and the witch fire only laugh. And Hour Priest has nothing to hide from, nothing to fear. The very idea of it is almost blasphemy.
Others say he is waiting for something, for someone. A woman, maybe; he has that look to him, pain gathered in the corners of his eyes. Those that know the old traditions laugh at that, too; what use does an Hour Priest have for women? Their only loves are the flames and the clock.
A man, then, someone suggests. A friend, an enemy. Death, perhaps- isn't that who we all wait for, at the end of the Lost Hour? That seems more likely, though the Clock hasn't struck in years, and no one remembers anything of the Hours beyond basest superstition.
Marcus sits in the corner and plays with fire, unconcerned by the speculation. If anyone were to ask- not that anyone would dare, not when the witch fire settles in a way that is too familiar for comfort around his hair- he would simply say he is enjoying the drink and the atmosphere. It's as true a lie as any, he thinks.
He knows what he is waiting for. It is neither man nor woman, friend or enemy. It is not death, because he has met death far too often to bother waiting for such a persistent acquaintence.
There is a tiny, barred window in his little corner; it showcases the barest slice of sky. He imagines, on days when he doesn't just come to brood over the fire and the beer, that if he watches the window long enough, he'll see the moon rise.
It never does.
---------
I never write Marcus. Yeesh. In fact, I don't think I've ever done a Marcus fragment before. Seventh Hour doesn't fragment well. (It doesn't, in fact, do anything well, except maybe give me horrible splitting headaches.)
Really, it's unlikely that anyone would recognize him as an Hour Priest by all of his multiple piercing scars...the fact that he can set things on fire with his brain is more of a tip off. Oh, well. There's a reason I've sort of given up on this universe...
BS babble
I've got nearly 4000 words of BS3 (gourd, I love that I can acronym it like that); I think it will be ready to post by tonight. It would have been done sooner if my wrist hadn't bugged out on me- I can type proficiently one handed, but I need to look at the keyboard while doing it, and that's frustrating.
Sasuke is such a slut. I've finally worked out the Naruto/Gaara angle of the story, and it kills me with its cute- but bringing Sasuke into the equation kills me and the cute. The relationship Naruto and Gaara have is not innately sexual- yes, they have sex (Aside from the demons they contain, they're both teenage boys, after all) but the sex isn't really important to either of them, and their relationship is firmly established long before they ever get that far. They're utterly, adorably in love.
Sasuke sexualizes every relationship he's in (this is why I want to make a Sasuke AMV to "Make a Baby") through no fault of his own. There are a lot of sticky consent issues post-Orochimaru for various reasons, (yay, eyeballs!) and while Naruto might not understand, he can respect the fact that Sasuke doesn't want to be touched- he might not like it, but he can deal. Gaara understands (he's actually got a pretty good handle on other people, since he spends so much time inside his head; he just doesn't know how to respond to them), but he doesn't care. And then there's lots of angst, and things blow up.
(And the whole story is just a setup for the beachfic, which I want to write so badly but haven't because I know I won't do it justice.)
Also, at some point, Sasuke becomes a pirate. (Shut up, it's better than the zombie baby plotline and you all know it.)
Anyway. That's not for another five or six chapters, at least; my original outline had ten chapters, but by the end of chapter three I'll be able to start on chapter two in the outline. >_< Epic. Feh. On the plus side, I'm running out of continuity, so chapters will be shorter and less unweildy. Yay.
Sasuke is such a slut. I've finally worked out the Naruto/Gaara angle of the story, and it kills me with its cute- but bringing Sasuke into the equation kills me and the cute. The relationship Naruto and Gaara have is not innately sexual- yes, they have sex (Aside from the demons they contain, they're both teenage boys, after all) but the sex isn't really important to either of them, and their relationship is firmly established long before they ever get that far. They're utterly, adorably in love.
Sasuke sexualizes every relationship he's in (this is why I want to make a Sasuke AMV to "Make a Baby") through no fault of his own. There are a lot of sticky consent issues post-Orochimaru for various reasons, (yay, eyeballs!) and while Naruto might not understand, he can respect the fact that Sasuke doesn't want to be touched- he might not like it, but he can deal. Gaara understands (he's actually got a pretty good handle on other people, since he spends so much time inside his head; he just doesn't know how to respond to them), but he doesn't care. And then there's lots of angst, and things blow up.
(And the whole story is just a setup for the beachfic, which I want to write so badly but haven't because I know I won't do it justice.)
Also, at some point, Sasuke becomes a pirate. (Shut up, it's better than the zombie baby plotline and you all know it.)
Anyway. That's not for another five or six chapters, at least; my original outline had ten chapters, but by the end of chapter three I'll be able to start on chapter two in the outline. >_< Epic. Feh. On the plus side, I'm running out of continuity, so chapters will be shorter and less unweildy. Yay.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Research References; Links, etc.
http://www.phac-aspc.gc.ca/publicat/info/necro_e.html
Hey, cool, now I know how to pronounce necrotizing fasciitis.
http://familydoctor.org/077.xml
general mono info
http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/diseases/ebv.htm
more mono
note to self: get wrist braces. Ow!tendons. ps: The problem with academic journals and medical research is that I have no clue what they're talking about.
...maybe I could find something to do with lepers...because clearly I just want to do a research paper on the scientific ramifications of ZOMBIES.
PPS: Call the brother. For serious, yo.
Other possibilities- recreational hallucinogenics with no or fewer brain damaging qualities. ...hm. That's a definite possibility.
Hey, cool, now I know how to pronounce necrotizing fasciitis.
http://familydoctor.org/077.xml
general mono info
http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/diseases/ebv.htm
more mono
note to self: get wrist braces. Ow!tendons. ps: The problem with academic journals and medical research is that I have no clue what they're talking about.
...maybe I could find something to do with lepers...because clearly I just want to do a research paper on the scientific ramifications of ZOMBIES.
PPS: Call the brother. For serious, yo.
Other possibilities- recreational hallucinogenics with no or fewer brain damaging qualities. ...hm. That's a definite possibility.