Okay, so I'm in Oregon with a computer which is an epic computer- or it WOULD be, if my parents hadn't gotten to it first and locked it up.
It kinda sucks.
Plus, my sisters are being little shits so the first time I said anything bad I got banned from everything and now I have to "earn" my "screen time" (DS, iPod (which keeps me sane, but she still banned it), computer) in ten-minute incriments, and she'll award them for good behavior whenever she feels like it.
*sigh* Troublesome...
2.1.09
18.7.08
wtf ballcap tiem
Okay, so today I'm spending the day sitting here at my computer because I'm too frickin' lazy to get up and get food (lol) and my dad comes in.
As usual he checks on me and I try to put on a happy face.
Then I go back to doing nothing, right?
Well, just now I turn around for some reason and I see him. He's still in his work clothes.
And he's wearing a ballcap.
INSIDE THE HOUSE.
FOR NO REASON.
Loser.
As usual he checks on me and I try to put on a happy face.
Then I go back to doing nothing, right?
Well, just now I turn around for some reason and I see him. He's still in his work clothes.
And he's wearing a ballcap.
INSIDE THE HOUSE.
FOR NO REASON.
Loser.
15.7.08
FAIL
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
see more pwn and owned pictures
...and why NOT?!
Oh those lucky people who make clever things happen with little or no effort involved.
Aren't you jealous?
Aren't you jealous?
Organization Lucky Star
"People think my middle name is Safety, but it's not! It's Dangeeerrr! ....no it's not....It's Joseph."
-Mikey from American Chopper
...if this doesn't make your head explode with sheer cuteness... well, then there's obviously something wrong with you.
Enjoy.
-Mikey from American Chopper
...if this doesn't make your head explode with sheer cuteness... well, then there's obviously something wrong with you.
Enjoy.
No Sleep Days (ch3)
Insert generic disclaimer here.
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
The door was kicked in. It crashed to the floor, splintered in the middle, and was stomped on by eight feet successively before being pulled up and shoved haphazardly back into its frame, cutting off the very small amount of moonlight that had been permitted inside, leaving the spiders in darkness once again.
Pein sneezed, and Hidan jumped, looking around guiltily, hoping nobody noticed.
Deidara screeched, hopping around, batting at his neck. Once Pein noticed, he grabbed the short-nin’s head, stopping him still, arms flailing, not thinking to grab Pein’s arm in his confusion, and he started shaking in fear, whimpering slightly, until the Leader pulled down the neckband of his cloak and squashed the offending spider with his thumb, too tired to make a witty remark regarding the blonde’s gender and fear of spiders. Said blonde sighed in relief and Zetsu uncovered his ears gingerly.
Meanwhile, Hidan had been stalking around silently, looking through the house. He had found a big kitchen, a pantry, a hall with bedrooms, a gigantic living room, some showers, and a side room where the bodies of the mansion’s previous occupants. Apparently it had been a large household, but was slaughtered by the last group of intruders to come through. He’d disposed of them, left four or five for Zetsu, and gathered the various valuables and weapons as well as useful materials (and several heads of long hair, which he shoved into his bag to use later, marveling at the variety of colors, giggling quietly to himself in his glee) and went back to the other three, who were just starting to look for him.
“Oi, Leader-sama.”
He looked up. “Nani?”
“The houseowners were already dead. I got all their stuff off of them and disposed of the bodies. I left five for Zetsu-” (he nodded in thanks) “-and there’s lots of supplies here. I vote we stay here.”
Pein shrugged. “Eh, why not. However, do they have some sort of prison?”
Hidan’s grin widened. “No, but they have a monkey cage…”
Deidara blinked. “A monkey?!”
The white-haired man made a vague gesture to indicate his ambiguity on the subject.
“I’m hungry, let’s go.” They trooped into the main kitchen, dumping the snoring princess in the uninhabited cage (why did Hidan know it was a monkey?) and locking it on the way, and raided the well-stocked kitchen. Deidara opened the cabinets to find cereal (“Fruit Loops! My favorite!” cried Pein) and Hidan opened the refrierator, pulling out Mountain Dew and beer, along with some Starbucks Frappuccinos. The orange haired nin moaned into his coffee as audible scrunch-ing came from the adjoining room. Deidara did his best to ignore it, yawning, and licked his popsicle. While this was a rather strange thing to eat at approximately four in the morning, he almost never got them. He continued to suck on it, zoning out, not noticing Hidan watching him out of the corner of his eye, face bright red. He made a strangled noise and snapped Deidara out of his reverie, who finally saw the blushing and smiled.
“You too, huh?” Hidan whipped his face around to look at Deidara, who was watching him, blushing slightly himself. He looked down and to the side, shrugging.
“Yeah, well… You got a problem with it?” grumbled Hidan, a little nervous. The blonde, who was about the same height as himself (i.e. rather short) shook his head, closing his eyes. “It’s been a slow year.” He agreed, chuckling to himself. If only you knew, blondie.
Zetsu trudged in, wiping his mouth. “Ugh, that was nasty. Three days old.. Well, it’s not like we got here fast enough to eat them fresh. Good point. Anyway, I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Try to keep the noise down.” Hidan smirked and Deidara almost choked, while Pein nodded, not looking up from the newspaper he had salvaged from the kitchen counter. “Good night, Zetsu.”
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Five minutes later, the plant-man was back, head and shell sticking up from the tiled floor. “Uh, bad news…”
Pein sighed. “What?”
“There are only two bedrooms. No way am I sharing.”
The Leader’s eyes twinkled mischeviously, and he leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “I’m Leader. Plus, I have a girlfriend-” all three other men twitched and blushed hotly in sync, making Pein smile wider, “-so you have to share.”
Deidara groaned, Hidan hmph-ed, and Zetsu looked up at the others, eyes half-closed. “Meh. So much for that idea. I told you he’d call the extra… Yeah, but at least it was worth a try. Now I’ll never get to sleep.”
Pein chuckled dryly. “Y’all have fun. I’m going to my room,” he gloated. Hidan shot him a glare, and stomped up the stairs, Deidara following close behind.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Once in the room, door closed, Hidan turned to face Deidara, who was in the middle of the room, watching him. He took a deep breath. “Look, blondie, I--”
Deidara cut him off by planting his lips on the others’, effectively silencing him, and grabbed his wrists, holding them above the religious-nin’s head. Hidan moaned softly into the kiss, and broke off, panting. “Shut up,” whispered the blonde, looking straight into the other man’s eyes.
The slightly taller man, surprised, just looked at him for a moment, before turning his head to the side to escape the intensity. “You--” he started, then broke off, unsure of what to say. Deidara buried his face in Hidan’s neck, letting go of his wrists. “Are you mad?” he whispered again, almost afraid of what he might say.
“Of course not…” the elder muttered into his hair, reaching around to his front, taking off the younger’s cloak, slipping it off his shoulders, pulling the smaller man into himself, gently, holding him. “Never.”
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
A/N: Aw, so sweet… more next time, ne? No time skip, though. I want to keep them shorter so that I can post more often. How was this chapter? You know, I think I’ll write the next one right now.. hehe, so fun!
Review, or else I can’t tell if you want the next one!
Trust me, you want it.
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
The door was kicked in. It crashed to the floor, splintered in the middle, and was stomped on by eight feet successively before being pulled up and shoved haphazardly back into its frame, cutting off the very small amount of moonlight that had been permitted inside, leaving the spiders in darkness once again.
Pein sneezed, and Hidan jumped, looking around guiltily, hoping nobody noticed.
Deidara screeched, hopping around, batting at his neck. Once Pein noticed, he grabbed the short-nin’s head, stopping him still, arms flailing, not thinking to grab Pein’s arm in his confusion, and he started shaking in fear, whimpering slightly, until the Leader pulled down the neckband of his cloak and squashed the offending spider with his thumb, too tired to make a witty remark regarding the blonde’s gender and fear of spiders. Said blonde sighed in relief and Zetsu uncovered his ears gingerly.
Meanwhile, Hidan had been stalking around silently, looking through the house. He had found a big kitchen, a pantry, a hall with bedrooms, a gigantic living room, some showers, and a side room where the bodies of the mansion’s previous occupants. Apparently it had been a large household, but was slaughtered by the last group of intruders to come through. He’d disposed of them, left four or five for Zetsu, and gathered the various valuables and weapons as well as useful materials (and several heads of long hair, which he shoved into his bag to use later, marveling at the variety of colors, giggling quietly to himself in his glee) and went back to the other three, who were just starting to look for him.
“Oi, Leader-sama.”
He looked up. “Nani?”
“The houseowners were already dead. I got all their stuff off of them and disposed of the bodies. I left five for Zetsu-” (he nodded in thanks) “-and there’s lots of supplies here. I vote we stay here.”
Pein shrugged. “Eh, why not. However, do they have some sort of prison?”
Hidan’s grin widened. “No, but they have a monkey cage…”
Deidara blinked. “A monkey?!”
The white-haired man made a vague gesture to indicate his ambiguity on the subject.
“I’m hungry, let’s go.” They trooped into the main kitchen, dumping the snoring princess in the uninhabited cage (why did Hidan know it was a monkey?) and locking it on the way, and raided the well-stocked kitchen. Deidara opened the cabinets to find cereal (“Fruit Loops! My favorite!” cried Pein) and Hidan opened the refrierator, pulling out Mountain Dew and beer, along with some Starbucks Frappuccinos. The orange haired nin moaned into his coffee as audible scrunch-ing came from the adjoining room. Deidara did his best to ignore it, yawning, and licked his popsicle. While this was a rather strange thing to eat at approximately four in the morning, he almost never got them. He continued to suck on it, zoning out, not noticing Hidan watching him out of the corner of his eye, face bright red. He made a strangled noise and snapped Deidara out of his reverie, who finally saw the blushing and smiled.
“You too, huh?” Hidan whipped his face around to look at Deidara, who was watching him, blushing slightly himself. He looked down and to the side, shrugging.
“Yeah, well… You got a problem with it?” grumbled Hidan, a little nervous. The blonde, who was about the same height as himself (i.e. rather short) shook his head, closing his eyes. “It’s been a slow year.” He agreed, chuckling to himself. If only you knew, blondie.
Zetsu trudged in, wiping his mouth. “Ugh, that was nasty. Three days old.. Well, it’s not like we got here fast enough to eat them fresh. Good point. Anyway, I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Try to keep the noise down.” Hidan smirked and Deidara almost choked, while Pein nodded, not looking up from the newspaper he had salvaged from the kitchen counter. “Good night, Zetsu.”
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Five minutes later, the plant-man was back, head and shell sticking up from the tiled floor. “Uh, bad news…”
Pein sighed. “What?”
“There are only two bedrooms. No way am I sharing.”
The Leader’s eyes twinkled mischeviously, and he leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “I’m Leader. Plus, I have a girlfriend-” all three other men twitched and blushed hotly in sync, making Pein smile wider, “-so you have to share.”
Deidara groaned, Hidan hmph-ed, and Zetsu looked up at the others, eyes half-closed. “Meh. So much for that idea. I told you he’d call the extra… Yeah, but at least it was worth a try. Now I’ll never get to sleep.”
Pein chuckled dryly. “Y’all have fun. I’m going to my room,” he gloated. Hidan shot him a glare, and stomped up the stairs, Deidara following close behind.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Once in the room, door closed, Hidan turned to face Deidara, who was in the middle of the room, watching him. He took a deep breath. “Look, blondie, I--”
Deidara cut him off by planting his lips on the others’, effectively silencing him, and grabbed his wrists, holding them above the religious-nin’s head. Hidan moaned softly into the kiss, and broke off, panting. “Shut up,” whispered the blonde, looking straight into the other man’s eyes.
The slightly taller man, surprised, just looked at him for a moment, before turning his head to the side to escape the intensity. “You--” he started, then broke off, unsure of what to say. Deidara buried his face in Hidan’s neck, letting go of his wrists. “Are you mad?” he whispered again, almost afraid of what he might say.
“Of course not…” the elder muttered into his hair, reaching around to his front, taking off the younger’s cloak, slipping it off his shoulders, pulling the smaller man into himself, gently, holding him. “Never.”
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
A/N: Aw, so sweet… more next time, ne? No time skip, though. I want to keep them shorter so that I can post more often. How was this chapter? You know, I think I’ll write the next one right now.. hehe, so fun!
Review, or else I can’t tell if you want the next one!
Trust me, you want it.
No Sleep Days (ch2
No Sleep Day
Insert generic disclaimer here.
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Pein hated it when he missed coffee.
He wavered slightly on his feet, waiting for Deidara to take the first step forward and bring the annoying captive inside, although he had his doubts about the stability of the ancient shack, if it would hold up at all.
Trying not to let him see, Pein glanced over at the blonde. The shorter man was biting his lip, looking concerned, miles away. He looked up again and sighed, eyes hooded. The Leader’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly when Zetsu reached forward and ruffled the hair of the Iwa muke-nin. So as not to be caught, he looked away quickly, breath catching in his throat.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
What just happened? Pein almost forgot where he was and turned his head to face Zetsu. Was he all right? The only visible gesture of confusion was when he blinked, twice, almost like a small child. In some ways, he still was.
Still waiting to go inside but not willing to give in first, he looked forwards again, not seeing, thinking. Absently, he wondered why Deidara had decided to come. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would interest him, and there wasn’t anything particularly important that was happening, so why did he come?
Blackmail, maybe?
And what was taking him so long?
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Chipmunks.
….
Driveway.
Car.
Pein. Pein’s coffee. Now I regret spilling it. But it was so funny…
Eep, a reader.
Get the hell outta my mind, heathen.
Uh, cream… puffs…
Sunscreen, cold hair, carrots… socks, knitting needles, red. Ack!
String… string man. Kakuzu.. black, blackmail, pain in the ass… Oops, wrong direction.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
Is he thinking about that? Does he remember how I said that… that I lo- argh, not again!
A, B, C, D, E, F, G…
Why are you still here?!
H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P…
Stupid… this is so stupid…
Q, R, S. T, U, V. W, X. Y. Z.
Now I know my ABC’s!
Next time won’t you sing with me?
Ha, take that. You’re not getting anything out of me! It’s my brain, dammit.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Our stomach is growling.
I told you not to eat him, you idiot. Now look what, we’ve got indigestion…
I was hungry!
You’re always hungry.
….
… What’s taking Deidara so long, anyway?
You know… I think he’s daydreaming.
Ugh, figures.
Zetsu reached up with his right arm and messed up Deidara’s hair. As expected, he turned right around, the funniest look on his face.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
The blonde blushed, looking down. Zetsu would have smiled if he wasn’t so tired, however weird that may seem. Even he had these urges, but it took a lesser… well, not man, uh.. person… to succumb to them.
Like Tobi, for example.
Now that kid… Zetsu rolled his eyes. There was something about him that made him lose himself. It was a major weakness, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. The whole thing was just a major hassle.
Was he feeling..? N-no. He wasn’t. He… ugh.
Oi, Deidara’s moving…
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Wow, I need sleep. I’m going to go to sleep now.
Good night.
Insert generic disclaimer here.
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Pein hated it when he missed coffee.
He wavered slightly on his feet, waiting for Deidara to take the first step forward and bring the annoying captive inside, although he had his doubts about the stability of the ancient shack, if it would hold up at all.
Trying not to let him see, Pein glanced over at the blonde. The shorter man was biting his lip, looking concerned, miles away. He looked up again and sighed, eyes hooded. The Leader’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly when Zetsu reached forward and ruffled the hair of the Iwa muke-nin. So as not to be caught, he looked away quickly, breath catching in his throat.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
What just happened? Pein almost forgot where he was and turned his head to face Zetsu. Was he all right? The only visible gesture of confusion was when he blinked, twice, almost like a small child. In some ways, he still was.
Still waiting to go inside but not willing to give in first, he looked forwards again, not seeing, thinking. Absently, he wondered why Deidara had decided to come. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would interest him, and there wasn’t anything particularly important that was happening, so why did he come?
Blackmail, maybe?
And what was taking him so long?
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Chipmunks.
….
Driveway.
Car.
Pein. Pein’s coffee. Now I regret spilling it. But it was so funny…
Eep, a reader.
Get the hell outta my mind, heathen.
Uh, cream… puffs…
Sunscreen, cold hair, carrots… socks, knitting needles, red. Ack!
String… string man. Kakuzu.. black, blackmail, pain in the ass… Oops, wrong direction.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
Is he thinking about that? Does he remember how I said that… that I lo- argh, not again!
A, B, C, D, E, F, G…
Why are you still here?!
H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P…
Stupid… this is so stupid…
Q, R, S. T, U, V. W, X. Y. Z.
Now I know my ABC’s!
Next time won’t you sing with me?
Ha, take that. You’re not getting anything out of me! It’s my brain, dammit.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Our stomach is growling.
I told you not to eat him, you idiot. Now look what, we’ve got indigestion…
I was hungry!
You’re always hungry.
….
… What’s taking Deidara so long, anyway?
You know… I think he’s daydreaming.
Ugh, figures.
Zetsu reached up with his right arm and messed up Deidara’s hair. As expected, he turned right around, the funniest look on his face.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
The blonde blushed, looking down. Zetsu would have smiled if he wasn’t so tired, however weird that may seem. Even he had these urges, but it took a lesser… well, not man, uh.. person… to succumb to them.
Like Tobi, for example.
Now that kid… Zetsu rolled his eyes. There was something about him that made him lose himself. It was a major weakness, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. The whole thing was just a major hassle.
Was he feeling..? N-no. He wasn’t. He… ugh.
Oi, Deidara’s moving…
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
Wow, I need sleep. I’m going to go to sleep now.
Good night.
No Sleep Days
Insert generic disclaimer here.
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
A far cry from a hotel, the building looked ancient and almost haunted. However, it wasn’t really like they had any choice at all in the matter; Pein was standing right behind them, and he needed coffee. His five-o’-clock shadow had become 36-hour shadow, and besides needing a shave, he was smelly. Deidara wrinkled his nose delicately. He had no idea why he was even there- Hidan had insisted upon dragging him along, screeching about something he didn’t quite catch, being half-deafened by said yelling in the first place, so he had agreed and stumbled off to find earplugs.
And now there they were, with a half-dead Leader, a whiny bitch for a hostage, Hidan, Deidara, and Zetsu. For once, there was no conflict between his sides; both were too tired to argue at all, and Tobi had elected out of joining them. The explosionist sighed and grumbled softly to himself, drawing Zetsu’s attention, who proceeded to ruffle his hair. Okay, now he was awake.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
He sighed, hunching his shoulders, and hefted the prisoner further up on his shoulder, whacking her hard on the back of the head to knock her out and shut her up. The stupid bratty Ice-village princess was immediately quiet. Well, for about two and a half seconds, at which point she started snoring. That wasn’t much of an improvement. For once, he admitted to himself that having Sasori there would be nice. He recalled their last conversation as the group trudged wearily towards the dusty old shack.
“Sasori.”
He had turned, slightly annoyed. “What now, huh? I was just going to go to bed.”
Deidara cleared his throat, scuffing with his shoe at the dirt like a schoolchild. “What you said, earlier, about it not mattering, I was just wondering if…”
The redhead was smiling, genuinely smiling. Now that was new. “If I was angry about it?” Deidara nodded, flushing slightly, a gesture the puppet master did not miss despite the hair covering half his face. “No, I’m not mad. I was just surprised, to tell the truth…” He grinned, baring a few teeth, and leaned forward until his face was only a few inches from his colleague’s. “You’re not a half-bad kisser, actually.”
Deidara looked up, eyes narrowed just so in suspicion.
Sasori’s primal grin faded into a tired smile, and he leaned his head to the side just enough to miss the other’s, until his lips were at his ear. Although he had vocal cords, his breath was not warm, as he only used air to speak (and to breathe, but mostly out of habit), and Deidara relaxed, not having been sure if the body heat would be unbearable, his pride safe. Sasori, on the other hand, was nervous as hell.
“I--" his voice cracked slightly, and he cursed inwardly- “-- I suppose I would make a fairly decent life partner.” He pulled Deidara towards himself, their shoulders just touching, and he lowered his voice further. “Good night.”
The blond man stood there even once his friend was gone, arms dangling limply at his sides, not really looking at anything in particular, trying not to move or break the moment, and continued staring like that long after he had tottered off to bed.
He smiled to himself, remembering how he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all that night, as he had been lying in bed, awake, thinking.
Just thinking.
Then again, he hadn’t gotten much sleep for a while.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
You want I should go on? Yes? No? Die, you horrible worm of an author? Say something, damn you! *shakes fist*
Summary: Everyone’s tired today, but not for the same reasons. Pein may have had to fight some burly idiot, but Deidara didn’t get any sleep, and it’s getting to him. Zetsu, on the other hand, is actually complacent. Gasp! Get a medic!
Zetsu-Yin, Zetsu-Yang.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
A far cry from a hotel, the building looked ancient and almost haunted. However, it wasn’t really like they had any choice at all in the matter; Pein was standing right behind them, and he needed coffee. His five-o’-clock shadow had become 36-hour shadow, and besides needing a shave, he was smelly. Deidara wrinkled his nose delicately. He had no idea why he was even there- Hidan had insisted upon dragging him along, screeching about something he didn’t quite catch, being half-deafened by said yelling in the first place, so he had agreed and stumbled off to find earplugs.
And now there they were, with a half-dead Leader, a whiny bitch for a hostage, Hidan, Deidara, and Zetsu. For once, there was no conflict between his sides; both were too tired to argue at all, and Tobi had elected out of joining them. The explosionist sighed and grumbled softly to himself, drawing Zetsu’s attention, who proceeded to ruffle his hair. Okay, now he was awake.
“What the—“
“It’s okay, Deidara. Just quit complaining, all right?”
He sighed, hunching his shoulders, and hefted the prisoner further up on his shoulder, whacking her hard on the back of the head to knock her out and shut her up. The stupid bratty Ice-village princess was immediately quiet. Well, for about two and a half seconds, at which point she started snoring. That wasn’t much of an improvement. For once, he admitted to himself that having Sasori there would be nice. He recalled their last conversation as the group trudged wearily towards the dusty old shack.
“Sasori.”
He had turned, slightly annoyed. “What now, huh? I was just going to go to bed.”
Deidara cleared his throat, scuffing with his shoe at the dirt like a schoolchild. “What you said, earlier, about it not mattering, I was just wondering if…”
The redhead was smiling, genuinely smiling. Now that was new. “If I was angry about it?” Deidara nodded, flushing slightly, a gesture the puppet master did not miss despite the hair covering half his face. “No, I’m not mad. I was just surprised, to tell the truth…” He grinned, baring a few teeth, and leaned forward until his face was only a few inches from his colleague’s. “You’re not a half-bad kisser, actually.”
Deidara looked up, eyes narrowed just so in suspicion.
Sasori’s primal grin faded into a tired smile, and he leaned his head to the side just enough to miss the other’s, until his lips were at his ear. Although he had vocal cords, his breath was not warm, as he only used air to speak (and to breathe, but mostly out of habit), and Deidara relaxed, not having been sure if the body heat would be unbearable, his pride safe. Sasori, on the other hand, was nervous as hell.
“I--" his voice cracked slightly, and he cursed inwardly- “-- I suppose I would make a fairly decent life partner.” He pulled Deidara towards himself, their shoulders just touching, and he lowered his voice further. “Good night.”
The blond man stood there even once his friend was gone, arms dangling limply at his sides, not really looking at anything in particular, trying not to move or break the moment, and continued staring like that long after he had tottered off to bed.
He smiled to himself, remembering how he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all that night, as he had been lying in bed, awake, thinking.
Just thinking.
Then again, he hadn’t gotten much sleep for a while.
omgbreaklineomgbreakline
You want I should go on? Yes? No? Die, you horrible worm of an author? Say something, damn you! *shakes fist*
Volunteer Madman (ch3)
Seeing as I failed to check my email, and subsequently didn’t post, I will make this one interesting. Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Volunteer Madman
Chapter Three: By Appointment Only
Carpets were obviously not made to stand up to this kind of abuse.
The one covering the locker-room floor was nearly threadbare, with a beige strand here and there, making it look even older than it already was. According to school legend, it was forty-eight years old, almost as old as the school, but nobody could be sure. There wasn’t anyone still around who would remember- most graduates of this particular high school tended to move as far away as possible, and lost all contact with anyone or anything associated with it. The school was that bad.
However, some of the looser panels of carpeting could be removed, and used as storing places for various illegal substances. As far as the teachers knew, everybody just really liked the showers, or something. Gaara leaned down, and, stepping on the opposite corner, lifted the edge of one square, flung it aside, and pulled out the small plastic bag of questionable orange powder. Holding it up to the light, he checked for impurities, then threw it into his bag, satisfied with its quality.
His entire plan hinged on these little bags, full of drugs, hallucinogens, aphrodisiacs, and other banned substances, which carried a penalty of rehab, jail, or fine, all of which were equally squalid and disgusting.
A rare smile crept quickly across Gaara’s face, disappearing instantly when the locker room door creaked open on its ancient hinges.
“Hey man, you there?”
Gaara cursed inwardly and jumped backwards into the shadows between the lockers, watching the intruder carefully for any signs of recognition. Thankfully, the blundering idiot had no idea he was there.
His eyes narrowed, and with a quiet spilling sound, sand flowed like quicksilver, dangerous, tainted, and deadly, towards the junkie stumbling unaware across the path of a very impatient Gaara.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
The red-haired receptionist was exceedingly bored.
Having no reason to pay attention to the people walking by, she filed her nails, wondering how long it was until lunch. She jumped when a hand slammed down on her desk, demanding attention.
“Uh….” She hid her nail file behind her back, hoping nobody would notice, and smiled tensely at the man glaring at her. “Can I help you?”
He scowled. “Yes. Is there a doctor I could talk to about a possible psychopath that I’m concerned about? I want to know if it’s possible to do anything about him…”
The woman pulled out her date book and flipped through it. Tracing a line across the page to the appropriate time, she studied it for a moment before snapping it closed. “There is one doctor currently available. He won’t be too happy about being bothered, but I think it’ll be all right.” She grimaced, imagining the flak she would catch later when he found out what had happened, but it couldn’t be helped. Pointing down the hallway, she crooked a finger to indicate a particular door. “Just go right in, he’s just reading right now.” Remembering suddenly, she looked up at the man. “And who will I say came by?”
“Gaara.”
“What, no last name?”
The pissed-off teen looked accusingly at her. “No, no last name.” He stalked off.
The poor girl looked worriedly at his back, wondering why he was so agitated. Shrugging, she picked up her file and went back to work.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Several hours later, Gaara was relaxing in his own room, a personal refuge. There was no way he was going home to his stupid parents; they wouldn’t even notice he was gone, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Shifting against the white cloth wall, he closed his eyes, thinking about how the afternoon had gone- the psychologist was fairly calm about his presence, at least until Gaara was asked who the person in question was. Showing no emotion at all whatsoever, he replied that he was, indeed, the psychopath of concern. The stringy man had leapt up, clutching his notepad to his chest, and hyperventilated until he passed out, at which point Gaara rolled his eyes and pressed the security intercom button under the desk. After he explained what had happened, he asked the guard to come take care of the unconscious man.
Gaara saw him later, dashing out of the office he had just gone into, running at full tilt to the bathroom. Apparently, he had seen the body, mutilated and twisted, and had been sickened. The redheaded teen grinned. It was perfect- just the excuse he needed. After a while, the security put two and two together, figured out that Gaara had killed him, stuck him in a cell, and left him there. At least the central heating was working.
He turned his head to look at the peaceful figure lying on the floor next to him, asleep. Her thin frame looked delicate, but she could defend herself; Gaara had learned that the hard way, and earned several shallow wounds in the process. Contrary to popular belief, madmen are quite social, and love company. His new roommate had been so happy; she hugged him, not letting go even when he threatened her with death. He had scowled and waited until she let him go, at which point he sat down. She had asked him his name.
“Gaara. You?”
She smirked. “Haku.” She leaned back against the wall, shifting her hips until she was facing him. “Why’re you here, anyway?”
Gaara grinned openly, exposing canines that seemed slightly longer than normal, lending him a strange ambiance. “Killing. Too much fun for my own good, I suppose…”
Haku studied his face intently. “Is that so…” She pulled her legs up and folded them in a more comfortable position. Her eyebrows inched downwards and she frowned, deep in thought. Gaara waved a hand in front of her face, and her head snapped up to meet his eyes. They stayed that way for a long time, just looking at each other, gauging the other’s strength, how far they could go before they broke. The redheaded insomniac scowled. There was no way he could figure her out; she was too strong for her own good. How long would she last? Looking at her again, he saw that she was staring through him, not really seeing him. Gaara wondered what she was thinking about.
Her lips had moved. She was talking to someone who wasn’t there, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. A tear fell from her jaw and landed on her hand, then another, but she didn’t seem to notice.
It made him wonder… what was she remembering?
He shook his head, and stared at her incredulously. She looked so delicate, but his arms and fingers remembered how strong she was, and he winced.
Why was she so happy to have company?
And what the hell was she doing in a maximum-security insane asylum?
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Are you still paying attention? taps on glass Sorry for the touchy-feely moment- but in case you’re wondering, she’s not schizophrenic; she’s there for something else.
And no, I’m not going to tell you who she’s thinking about. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Zabuza!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Volunteer Madman
Chapter Three: By Appointment Only
Carpets were obviously not made to stand up to this kind of abuse.
The one covering the locker-room floor was nearly threadbare, with a beige strand here and there, making it look even older than it already was. According to school legend, it was forty-eight years old, almost as old as the school, but nobody could be sure. There wasn’t anyone still around who would remember- most graduates of this particular high school tended to move as far away as possible, and lost all contact with anyone or anything associated with it. The school was that bad.
However, some of the looser panels of carpeting could be removed, and used as storing places for various illegal substances. As far as the teachers knew, everybody just really liked the showers, or something. Gaara leaned down, and, stepping on the opposite corner, lifted the edge of one square, flung it aside, and pulled out the small plastic bag of questionable orange powder. Holding it up to the light, he checked for impurities, then threw it into his bag, satisfied with its quality.
His entire plan hinged on these little bags, full of drugs, hallucinogens, aphrodisiacs, and other banned substances, which carried a penalty of rehab, jail, or fine, all of which were equally squalid and disgusting.
A rare smile crept quickly across Gaara’s face, disappearing instantly when the locker room door creaked open on its ancient hinges.
“Hey man, you there?”
Gaara cursed inwardly and jumped backwards into the shadows between the lockers, watching the intruder carefully for any signs of recognition. Thankfully, the blundering idiot had no idea he was there.
His eyes narrowed, and with a quiet spilling sound, sand flowed like quicksilver, dangerous, tainted, and deadly, towards the junkie stumbling unaware across the path of a very impatient Gaara.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
The red-haired receptionist was exceedingly bored.
Having no reason to pay attention to the people walking by, she filed her nails, wondering how long it was until lunch. She jumped when a hand slammed down on her desk, demanding attention.
“Uh….” She hid her nail file behind her back, hoping nobody would notice, and smiled tensely at the man glaring at her. “Can I help you?”
He scowled. “Yes. Is there a doctor I could talk to about a possible psychopath that I’m concerned about? I want to know if it’s possible to do anything about him…”
The woman pulled out her date book and flipped through it. Tracing a line across the page to the appropriate time, she studied it for a moment before snapping it closed. “There is one doctor currently available. He won’t be too happy about being bothered, but I think it’ll be all right.” She grimaced, imagining the flak she would catch later when he found out what had happened, but it couldn’t be helped. Pointing down the hallway, she crooked a finger to indicate a particular door. “Just go right in, he’s just reading right now.” Remembering suddenly, she looked up at the man. “And who will I say came by?”
“Gaara.”
“What, no last name?”
The pissed-off teen looked accusingly at her. “No, no last name.” He stalked off.
The poor girl looked worriedly at his back, wondering why he was so agitated. Shrugging, she picked up her file and went back to work.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Several hours later, Gaara was relaxing in his own room, a personal refuge. There was no way he was going home to his stupid parents; they wouldn’t even notice he was gone, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Shifting against the white cloth wall, he closed his eyes, thinking about how the afternoon had gone- the psychologist was fairly calm about his presence, at least until Gaara was asked who the person in question was. Showing no emotion at all whatsoever, he replied that he was, indeed, the psychopath of concern. The stringy man had leapt up, clutching his notepad to his chest, and hyperventilated until he passed out, at which point Gaara rolled his eyes and pressed the security intercom button under the desk. After he explained what had happened, he asked the guard to come take care of the unconscious man.
Gaara saw him later, dashing out of the office he had just gone into, running at full tilt to the bathroom. Apparently, he had seen the body, mutilated and twisted, and had been sickened. The redheaded teen grinned. It was perfect- just the excuse he needed. After a while, the security put two and two together, figured out that Gaara had killed him, stuck him in a cell, and left him there. At least the central heating was working.
He turned his head to look at the peaceful figure lying on the floor next to him, asleep. Her thin frame looked delicate, but she could defend herself; Gaara had learned that the hard way, and earned several shallow wounds in the process. Contrary to popular belief, madmen are quite social, and love company. His new roommate had been so happy; she hugged him, not letting go even when he threatened her with death. He had scowled and waited until she let him go, at which point he sat down. She had asked him his name.
“Gaara. You?”
She smirked. “Haku.” She leaned back against the wall, shifting her hips until she was facing him. “Why’re you here, anyway?”
Gaara grinned openly, exposing canines that seemed slightly longer than normal, lending him a strange ambiance. “Killing. Too much fun for my own good, I suppose…”
Haku studied his face intently. “Is that so…” She pulled her legs up and folded them in a more comfortable position. Her eyebrows inched downwards and she frowned, deep in thought. Gaara waved a hand in front of her face, and her head snapped up to meet his eyes. They stayed that way for a long time, just looking at each other, gauging the other’s strength, how far they could go before they broke. The redheaded insomniac scowled. There was no way he could figure her out; she was too strong for her own good. How long would she last? Looking at her again, he saw that she was staring through him, not really seeing him. Gaara wondered what she was thinking about.
Her lips had moved. She was talking to someone who wasn’t there, almost as if he wasn’t there at all. A tear fell from her jaw and landed on her hand, then another, but she didn’t seem to notice.
It made him wonder… what was she remembering?
He shook his head, and stared at her incredulously. She looked so delicate, but his arms and fingers remembered how strong she was, and he winced.
Why was she so happy to have company?
And what the hell was she doing in a maximum-security insane asylum?
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Are you still paying attention? taps on glass Sorry for the touchy-feely moment- but in case you’re wondering, she’s not schizophrenic; she’s there for something else.
And no, I’m not going to tell you who she’s thinking about. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Zabuza!
Volunteer Madman (ch2)
Hey, you guys! Wow, twenty hits in the first day? I feel loved!
Alright, because of your… umm… participation? I am going to write another chapter. Enjoy. Then eat a cookie. Or an apple. But not an onion, they make your breath stinky:D
Disclaimer: I own nothing. For now, anyway. Hee hee.
Volunteer Madman
Chapter Two: First Light
Too much stuff. Gaara frowned at his backpack, and sat on it, squishing it a little and forcing the zipper closed. It didn’t have to hold it for very long, just until he got to school. A sigh escaped his lips, and he sat back down on his bed, going over his plan in his head, and pulled out his written copy to study it further.
The crumpled piece of paper was almost soft now, and if he didn’t stop worrying it all the time it would start to tear. He pulled up a chair to his desk and rewrote the plan on a cleaner, flatter piece of paper. Apart from the blaring of the television downstairs, the scratching of his favorite black pen was all he could hear, but he wasn’t focusing on that right now.
With a grimace, he looked at the newly laid-out plan. He held it up next to the older one, and, satisfied, snagged his backpack from its place on his sheet and left, sand trickling behind him like some sort of pet, the tail end of its stream flipping jauntily as it left the room for the last time.
Gaara tromped down the stairs and left.
His parents didn’t even notice.
A hand cut a bit of sunrise from the sky, raised purposefully, fingers outstretched. Behind it, a rush of sand spread and leapt up the chill air, settling grain by grain into stairs. When it was finished, he climbed the stairs to the top of the school building, gathered his sand to him, and sat down to wait.
After a few hours, the first stragglers began to arrive, followed by the teachers, and about thirty minutes later, the collective contents of the various school buses, and filed into the mouth of the school like soldiers marching to their deaths. An unusual sneer spread itself like a lazy cat across Gaara’s face. Most of them knew nothing about what would happen, but one boy paused on his way to class, turning his bandaged face to look at the roof, eyes resting on the place where Gaara had been just a second ago. It was important that nobody knew he was there. It wouldn’t work otherwise.
Once his heart stopped thumping like it was planning to jump out of his chest, Gaara sat down again. What did that kid know? He couldn’t be sure. He frowned. A change to the plan was in order.
He would kill that kid first.
Everyone else?
Second.
--
Ooh, cliffy! No more story for you people until I get at least one review. I already have it written; all you need to do is click that little blue button… you know you want to…
Alright, because of your… umm… participation? I am going to write another chapter. Enjoy. Then eat a cookie. Or an apple. But not an onion, they make your breath stinky:D
Disclaimer: I own nothing. For now, anyway. Hee hee.
Volunteer Madman
Chapter Two: First Light
Too much stuff. Gaara frowned at his backpack, and sat on it, squishing it a little and forcing the zipper closed. It didn’t have to hold it for very long, just until he got to school. A sigh escaped his lips, and he sat back down on his bed, going over his plan in his head, and pulled out his written copy to study it further.
The crumpled piece of paper was almost soft now, and if he didn’t stop worrying it all the time it would start to tear. He pulled up a chair to his desk and rewrote the plan on a cleaner, flatter piece of paper. Apart from the blaring of the television downstairs, the scratching of his favorite black pen was all he could hear, but he wasn’t focusing on that right now.
With a grimace, he looked at the newly laid-out plan. He held it up next to the older one, and, satisfied, snagged his backpack from its place on his sheet and left, sand trickling behind him like some sort of pet, the tail end of its stream flipping jauntily as it left the room for the last time.
Gaara tromped down the stairs and left.
His parents didn’t even notice.
A hand cut a bit of sunrise from the sky, raised purposefully, fingers outstretched. Behind it, a rush of sand spread and leapt up the chill air, settling grain by grain into stairs. When it was finished, he climbed the stairs to the top of the school building, gathered his sand to him, and sat down to wait.
After a few hours, the first stragglers began to arrive, followed by the teachers, and about thirty minutes later, the collective contents of the various school buses, and filed into the mouth of the school like soldiers marching to their deaths. An unusual sneer spread itself like a lazy cat across Gaara’s face. Most of them knew nothing about what would happen, but one boy paused on his way to class, turning his bandaged face to look at the roof, eyes resting on the place where Gaara had been just a second ago. It was important that nobody knew he was there. It wouldn’t work otherwise.
Once his heart stopped thumping like it was planning to jump out of his chest, Gaara sat down again. What did that kid know? He couldn’t be sure. He frowned. A change to the plan was in order.
He would kill that kid first.
Everyone else?
Second.
--
Ooh, cliffy! No more story for you people until I get at least one review. I already have it written; all you need to do is click that little blue button… you know you want to…
Volunteer Madman
Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING, ya hear? Although, if I did…. Well, it would be fun.
Summary: As far as Gaara can tell, nobody will ever get close to him. But when he lands in the insane asylum, he develops a certain... affinity... Rated T for now. GaaHaku, other pairings later. Review, please!
Hey, people! Yes, I have an account. I finally got past the damn spam filter, and now I’m back! (And sleepy. hehe.)
Don’t worry, a one-shot crack-fic is coming next, I just wanted to get this out of my system first. :D
Awright here goes. *cracks knuckles* Enjoy, or get all depressed.
Then go eat a cookie )
Volunteer Madman
Chapter 1:
Friends were supposed to help you, right?
Not in his case.
Nobody ever helped him, even when he was tired or sad. Not even if he had gotten beaten up that day at school. They would just ignore him and he would have to limp upstairs to the bathroom and dress his wounds himself, silent tears littering the floor.
Did they even care? He couldn’t tell. From the way they treated him, like an unwanted fly, like a piece of trash, a burden they had been forced to carry. Every single person he went to for help just told him to get over it; it would stop if he would just be a good boy. Unfortunately, in his situation, that was not an option.
So he had grown up like this, rejected, shunned, shoved to the edge of existence, only getting peace when they didn’t notice he was there, when he didn’t complain. Learning not to make any sort of sound or noise was the hardest part for him.
Not only did he have to deal with all this shit, he had to go to school, and find food somehow; most days, he didn’t get anything, and he went to sleep hungry.
Eventually, he got used to it.
“Hey! Hey, Gaara!”
He turned around. What the hell was that kid thinking, talking to him? He’d get raped, or killed, or worse.
“Gaara! Gaara, wait!”
He stopped for a moment, letting his head fall back onto his neck to look at the clouds. He sighed. School sucked, but this annoying kid was worse. Eventually, the kid would learn better than to approach him, if he liked not hurting worse every single day than the morning before, until any inkling of an impulse to go approach Gaara was beaten out of him by the haters who roamed the school, their numbers growing faster whenever some baka got the bright idea to talk to him again.
The kid caught up to him, and hunched over, breathing heavily, resting his hands on his knees. Slowly, carefully, Gaara turned around, plastering a frown across his face, to look at the strange boy who would talk to him, on his own; he must not have been aware of the consequences. Gaara smirked. Not his fault what the assholes at school would do to this idiot once the news reached them, that someone had treated Gaara like a person, with kindness, had spoken his name, called out. Plenty of that later; for now, what did this moron want from him?
The pale blond boy looked up at Gaara, who was waiting for him to speak, the frown still present. A familiar flicker of fear flew past the impostor’s eyes, making Gaara smirk momentarily. He waited for the other to speak.
“Hey, Gaa- um… hi.” He realized his mistake, too late, but he pressed on. “You’re going to school, right? Yeah? Can I go with you?” He got no answer, which was to be expected. “Alright, ok then. C’mon, let’s go.” He straightened up, and walked past the redhead, who sighed again, and turned to follow him.
Poor kid. Must be retarded or something. He smirked to himself. What do I care?
Sitting on the steps, waiting for lunch to be over, Gaara was thinking. He had plenty of time; it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be anywhere near him, anyway. He took another bite out of his sandwich. As usual, he had no idea what was inside it, and he had no intention of finding out. Last time he had tried that, he was sick for a month. Chewing slowly, he considered the morning’s incident.
What did that kid want, anyway? Did he think Gaara was going to be his friend or something? Not that they would let Gaara have a friend even if he wanted one. He’d seen what they had done to the kid; hopefully, he wasn’t planning on trying that again anytime soon. Tch. Whatever.
Gaara threw the remains of his sandwich into the dumpster on the corner of the school building, and walked around the opposite side of the main plaza. Why was he still here, anyway? It wasn’t like anyone wanted him there, except for his goddamn uncle. He’d rather be at some shitty school where he could be alone and nobody would bother him, or anyone who wanted to be his friend, to talk freely, to even be able to avoid the whispers that always echoed down the halls. Even if he couldn’t…. he could figure something out.
He had an idea. It would work; he was sure of it. His reputation as a psycho was well known; that would make it so much easier. A rare grin split his face, and the girls walking down the hall past him sped up, huddling together warily.
---
Was it horrid? Okay? Terrible? Needs improvement? TELL ME! Review! Ps: long ones ok/preferred, don’t be afraid to be weird- the weirder, the better, k?
I will write part two only if I get a comment! Or if you don’t want me to, tell me that in your comment.
See you later! And comment! Or else… dun dun DUN…
Summary: As far as Gaara can tell, nobody will ever get close to him. But when he lands in the insane asylum, he develops a certain... affinity... Rated T for now. GaaHaku, other pairings later. Review, please!
Hey, people! Yes, I have an account. I finally got past the damn spam filter, and now I’m back! (And sleepy. hehe.)
Don’t worry, a one-shot crack-fic is coming next, I just wanted to get this out of my system first. :D
Awright here goes. *cracks knuckles* Enjoy, or get all depressed.
Then go eat a cookie )
Volunteer Madman
Chapter 1:
Friends were supposed to help you, right?
Not in his case.
Nobody ever helped him, even when he was tired or sad. Not even if he had gotten beaten up that day at school. They would just ignore him and he would have to limp upstairs to the bathroom and dress his wounds himself, silent tears littering the floor.
Did they even care? He couldn’t tell. From the way they treated him, like an unwanted fly, like a piece of trash, a burden they had been forced to carry. Every single person he went to for help just told him to get over it; it would stop if he would just be a good boy. Unfortunately, in his situation, that was not an option.
So he had grown up like this, rejected, shunned, shoved to the edge of existence, only getting peace when they didn’t notice he was there, when he didn’t complain. Learning not to make any sort of sound or noise was the hardest part for him.
Not only did he have to deal with all this shit, he had to go to school, and find food somehow; most days, he didn’t get anything, and he went to sleep hungry.
Eventually, he got used to it.
“Hey! Hey, Gaara!”
He turned around. What the hell was that kid thinking, talking to him? He’d get raped, or killed, or worse.
“Gaara! Gaara, wait!”
He stopped for a moment, letting his head fall back onto his neck to look at the clouds. He sighed. School sucked, but this annoying kid was worse. Eventually, the kid would learn better than to approach him, if he liked not hurting worse every single day than the morning before, until any inkling of an impulse to go approach Gaara was beaten out of him by the haters who roamed the school, their numbers growing faster whenever some baka got the bright idea to talk to him again.
The kid caught up to him, and hunched over, breathing heavily, resting his hands on his knees. Slowly, carefully, Gaara turned around, plastering a frown across his face, to look at the strange boy who would talk to him, on his own; he must not have been aware of the consequences. Gaara smirked. Not his fault what the assholes at school would do to this idiot once the news reached them, that someone had treated Gaara like a person, with kindness, had spoken his name, called out. Plenty of that later; for now, what did this moron want from him?
The pale blond boy looked up at Gaara, who was waiting for him to speak, the frown still present. A familiar flicker of fear flew past the impostor’s eyes, making Gaara smirk momentarily. He waited for the other to speak.
“Hey, Gaa- um… hi.” He realized his mistake, too late, but he pressed on. “You’re going to school, right? Yeah? Can I go with you?” He got no answer, which was to be expected. “Alright, ok then. C’mon, let’s go.” He straightened up, and walked past the redhead, who sighed again, and turned to follow him.
Poor kid. Must be retarded or something. He smirked to himself. What do I care?
Sitting on the steps, waiting for lunch to be over, Gaara was thinking. He had plenty of time; it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be anywhere near him, anyway. He took another bite out of his sandwich. As usual, he had no idea what was inside it, and he had no intention of finding out. Last time he had tried that, he was sick for a month. Chewing slowly, he considered the morning’s incident.
What did that kid want, anyway? Did he think Gaara was going to be his friend or something? Not that they would let Gaara have a friend even if he wanted one. He’d seen what they had done to the kid; hopefully, he wasn’t planning on trying that again anytime soon. Tch. Whatever.
Gaara threw the remains of his sandwich into the dumpster on the corner of the school building, and walked around the opposite side of the main plaza. Why was he still here, anyway? It wasn’t like anyone wanted him there, except for his goddamn uncle. He’d rather be at some shitty school where he could be alone and nobody would bother him, or anyone who wanted to be his friend, to talk freely, to even be able to avoid the whispers that always echoed down the halls. Even if he couldn’t…. he could figure something out.
He had an idea. It would work; he was sure of it. His reputation as a psycho was well known; that would make it so much easier. A rare grin split his face, and the girls walking down the hall past him sped up, huddling together warily.
---
Was it horrid? Okay? Terrible? Needs improvement? TELL ME! Review! Ps: long ones ok/preferred, don’t be afraid to be weird- the weirder, the better, k?
I will write part two only if I get a comment! Or if you don’t want me to, tell me that in your comment.
See you later! And comment! Or else… dun dun DUN…
101 Inane Things You Can Do With Lightbulbs
Just Try and Guess
Summary: Go ahead. Just try and guess what they're REALLY doing. Actually, it's kinda easy. Just funny to imagine. Enjoy! CRACK! Oneshot. ItachixMusicals, Sakon and maybe Ukon , Kankuro, Kidomaru sort of, anyway and that poor not-so-innocent cameraman.
Random blurb crack fic.
A/N: Just cuz I’m suddenly kinda obsessed with ItatchixMusicals, and Sakon. Or Ukon. Both, actually.
Just coverin’ my bases, cuz if I didn’t, SOMEONE coughdrama-baka-brooke-chancough would come along and correct me.
Well probably, anyway.
If they cared enough.
I feel unloved for some reason.
*cries in corner*
Enjoy. Or not. *mutters* Sadists.
101 Inane Things You Can Do With Lightbulbs
If dealing with an entire clan of idiots was hard, this was just ridiculous.
At least they had been competent shinobi.
These kids couldn’t even play the bongos right.
Itachi sighed, head lolling forwards on his neck, cat ears shifting farther forward with the motion, the dinky headband they were attached to not quite enough to hold them in place.
His oversized cat-collar dinged, and he jerked awake, surprised. Guiltily, he looked back and forth. Oh good, nobody saw that he almost fell asleep…
Damn musical getup.
Did the man standing behind him actually enjoy this? How was it possible? I mean, he’s kinky, sure, but not that kinky. Kankuro twitched again, the whip dragging slices into his back. The death grip on his neck was released, and he crumpled to the floor, panting heavily.
The cameraman yanked the rig to the right, zooming in on his face. He felt sick, but tried to resist the urge to puke. Getting paid very well for such a small amount of effort was worth the wait, wasn’t it?
Tall and lanky, the other participant was standing proudly above the brunette, smirking to himself. This was fun. He wiped a section of palest-blond hair out of his eyes, the beads around his neck clinking softly together. His grin was as wide as it could get without baring teeth, and he almost laughed. This man was so easy to destroy; if only Ukon were here, they could have a really good time.
Sadly, his brother would end up missing out on this one, as he was out drinking with Kidomaru.
Out of nowhere, Jesus popped up and got into a screaming match with Hidan.
Hidan seemed to be winning because, unlike his opponent, he had nothing against swearing.
How sad.
Poor Jesus.
---
*yells from across the room* WE STILL LUV YA, JC!
Uh, well… yeah. No explanation. Isn’t it fun, though? What do you think’s going on in each one? Except for the Jesus sketch, that one’s pretty obvious.
Summary: Go ahead. Just try and guess what they're REALLY doing. Actually, it's kinda easy. Just funny to imagine. Enjoy! CRACK! Oneshot. ItachixMusicals, Sakon and maybe Ukon , Kankuro, Kidomaru sort of, anyway and that poor not-so-innocent cameraman.
Random blurb crack fic.
A/N: Just cuz I’m suddenly kinda obsessed with ItatchixMusicals, and Sakon. Or Ukon. Both, actually.
Just coverin’ my bases, cuz if I didn’t, SOMEONE coughdrama-baka-brooke-chancough would come along and correct me.
Well probably, anyway.
If they cared enough.
I feel unloved for some reason.
*cries in corner*
Enjoy. Or not. *mutters* Sadists.
101 Inane Things You Can Do With Lightbulbs
If dealing with an entire clan of idiots was hard, this was just ridiculous.
At least they had been competent shinobi.
These kids couldn’t even play the bongos right.
Itachi sighed, head lolling forwards on his neck, cat ears shifting farther forward with the motion, the dinky headband they were attached to not quite enough to hold them in place.
His oversized cat-collar dinged, and he jerked awake, surprised. Guiltily, he looked back and forth. Oh good, nobody saw that he almost fell asleep…
Damn musical getup.
Did the man standing behind him actually enjoy this? How was it possible? I mean, he’s kinky, sure, but not that kinky. Kankuro twitched again, the whip dragging slices into his back. The death grip on his neck was released, and he crumpled to the floor, panting heavily.
The cameraman yanked the rig to the right, zooming in on his face. He felt sick, but tried to resist the urge to puke. Getting paid very well for such a small amount of effort was worth the wait, wasn’t it?
Tall and lanky, the other participant was standing proudly above the brunette, smirking to himself. This was fun. He wiped a section of palest-blond hair out of his eyes, the beads around his neck clinking softly together. His grin was as wide as it could get without baring teeth, and he almost laughed. This man was so easy to destroy; if only Ukon were here, they could have a really good time.
Sadly, his brother would end up missing out on this one, as he was out drinking with Kidomaru.
Out of nowhere, Jesus popped up and got into a screaming match with Hidan.
Hidan seemed to be winning because, unlike his opponent, he had nothing against swearing.
How sad.
Poor Jesus.
---
*yells from across the room* WE STILL LUV YA, JC!
Uh, well… yeah. No explanation. Isn’t it fun, though? What do you think’s going on in each one? Except for the Jesus sketch, that one’s pretty obvious.
Running With Scissors (ch3)
All right, I finally finished this! w00t!
Running with Scissors
Chapter 3
Fridays with Mr. Belly
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Tomomi was busy.
She was very busy.
There was no way she could be made to pay attention now.
She was staring at the kabuki guy, her second patient, who was, apparently, quite interesting, and mumbling to herself.
It made me wonder what he looked like…
I sighed and turned back to my unnaturally pale attendee.
He seemed to be drawn in black and white, almost no other color visible on his entire body. The only other hue was red, a deep, wholesome crimson, which I currently had, after sewing his stomach wound up, washed gently off his body and currently was suspended in a gentlesphere floating near my right ear. I’d already done a primary exam, checking for poison, wounds, mental scarring, blisters, uncauterized gashes, anything that could make his condition worse.
In his sleep, this man was so peaceful. He seemed completely apathetic, emotionless; a trait that marked him immediately in my mind as an ANBU ROOT Ops nin. His warped hitai-ate bore the Konoha leaf, barely recognizable after all the bending it had endured. Once I had gotten off his clothes, conducted the exam, and covered his privates respectfully with a piece of cloth, I sat back to watch him.
Treatment time: Twenty- six minutes, three-point-six seconds.
Upon seeing this male, I had understood he was used to working either in black or at night. His skin was a translucent white usually associated with anemia; however, as far as i could ‘see’ it was not the result of a medical condition, just very light skin. It struck me that if he was a ROOT Ops nin, he wasn’t going to tell me anything when he woke up. My conscience scolded me, reminding me that he would be nice to have there, helping us. They don’t take just anyone to be an ANBU, much less a ROOT Ops. Danzou wouldn’t have such a fierce reputation if he did.
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Hey, this guy has weird paint.
I know I’m not supposed to touch stuff I’m not sure of, but it doesn’t really matter. Dragging a finger through the stuff I’d sucker-pulled off his face, I considered it. It was purple.
I decided to do face-paint, because all the other patients were taken care of.
Lemme tell you, that stuff may look weird, but it feels weirder. Like slugs. Personally, I thought it was awesome. I can’t see my face, so I decided to draw on my chest instead. After ridding myself of that stupid cloak and putting on some shorts for decency’s sake (I don’t care, but Onee-sama and Ryuusei-san do) I started by painting a smiley face on my belly, with my bellybutton as a nose. Yes, I remembered the bellybutton. Then I started talking with Mr. Belly as I waited for cat-man to wake up.
“Hi, Mr. Belly!”
“Hey there, Tomo-chan! What’re you doing today?”
“Today we’re dealin’ with some Konoha and Suna shinobi!”
He was waking up, and I decided to give him about ten more seconds of groggy-time.
“Sounds like fun! What do they look like?”
He rolled over and looked at me.
“Well, one’s black and white, another one I haven’t seen, and the other two are Tanuki-san over there and Kitty-man over here.”
He cleared his throat. “Does… does it really look like a cat?”
I spun to face him. “Well, yeah, but--”
The guy went an even brighter red than Tanuki-san’s hair. He blinked a couple times, jaw wide open, and I noticed I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Stupid me. Watching him, I put on a breast-binding and cocked my head to the side. “What?”
“Y-you weren’t wearing anything.”
“I noticed now.”
“Oh.”
It was quiet, and I took the opportunity to check outside. “Thirty-six minutes until shutdown!” Ryuusei nodded.
“What’s your name?”
He blinked once before answering. “Kankuro. The, uh, Tanuki-san--” said shinobi shot him a glare-- “-is my brother, Gaara. That’s Sai, and there’s Kiba. We..” he coughed and I frowned, pushing him onto his back. I wrapped my fingers around his throat, rubbing at the sore spot he had on the side of his trachea.
Making a ‘tsk’ sound with my toungue, I shook my head.
Kankuro-neko-nin was red again…
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Okay, sorry for the confusion. I haff been corrected; Stretchy in the cloak is Tomomi. Gomen.
Yeah, I realize it’s been forever. I’m just too lazy… argh..
Comment?
Running with Scissors
Chapter 3
Fridays with Mr. Belly
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Tomomi was busy.
She was very busy.
There was no way she could be made to pay attention now.
She was staring at the kabuki guy, her second patient, who was, apparently, quite interesting, and mumbling to herself.
It made me wonder what he looked like…
I sighed and turned back to my unnaturally pale attendee.
He seemed to be drawn in black and white, almost no other color visible on his entire body. The only other hue was red, a deep, wholesome crimson, which I currently had, after sewing his stomach wound up, washed gently off his body and currently was suspended in a gentlesphere floating near my right ear. I’d already done a primary exam, checking for poison, wounds, mental scarring, blisters, uncauterized gashes, anything that could make his condition worse.
In his sleep, this man was so peaceful. He seemed completely apathetic, emotionless; a trait that marked him immediately in my mind as an ANBU ROOT Ops nin. His warped hitai-ate bore the Konoha leaf, barely recognizable after all the bending it had endured. Once I had gotten off his clothes, conducted the exam, and covered his privates respectfully with a piece of cloth, I sat back to watch him.
Treatment time: Twenty- six minutes, three-point-six seconds.
Upon seeing this male, I had understood he was used to working either in black or at night. His skin was a translucent white usually associated with anemia; however, as far as i could ‘see’ it was not the result of a medical condition, just very light skin. It struck me that if he was a ROOT Ops nin, he wasn’t going to tell me anything when he woke up. My conscience scolded me, reminding me that he would be nice to have there, helping us. They don’t take just anyone to be an ANBU, much less a ROOT Ops. Danzou wouldn’t have such a fierce reputation if he did.
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Hey, this guy has weird paint.
I know I’m not supposed to touch stuff I’m not sure of, but it doesn’t really matter. Dragging a finger through the stuff I’d sucker-pulled off his face, I considered it. It was purple.
I decided to do face-paint, because all the other patients were taken care of.
Lemme tell you, that stuff may look weird, but it feels weirder. Like slugs. Personally, I thought it was awesome. I can’t see my face, so I decided to draw on my chest instead. After ridding myself of that stupid cloak and putting on some shorts for decency’s sake (I don’t care, but Onee-sama and Ryuusei-san do) I started by painting a smiley face on my belly, with my bellybutton as a nose. Yes, I remembered the bellybutton. Then I started talking with Mr. Belly as I waited for cat-man to wake up.
“Hi, Mr. Belly!”
“Hey there, Tomo-chan! What’re you doing today?”
“Today we’re dealin’ with some Konoha and Suna shinobi!”
He was waking up, and I decided to give him about ten more seconds of groggy-time.
“Sounds like fun! What do they look like?”
He rolled over and looked at me.
“Well, one’s black and white, another one I haven’t seen, and the other two are Tanuki-san over there and Kitty-man over here.”
He cleared his throat. “Does… does it really look like a cat?”
I spun to face him. “Well, yeah, but--”
The guy went an even brighter red than Tanuki-san’s hair. He blinked a couple times, jaw wide open, and I noticed I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Stupid me. Watching him, I put on a breast-binding and cocked my head to the side. “What?”
“Y-you weren’t wearing anything.”
“I noticed now.”
“Oh.”
It was quiet, and I took the opportunity to check outside. “Thirty-six minutes until shutdown!” Ryuusei nodded.
“What’s your name?”
He blinked once before answering. “Kankuro. The, uh, Tanuki-san--” said shinobi shot him a glare-- “-is my brother, Gaara. That’s Sai, and there’s Kiba. We..” he coughed and I frowned, pushing him onto his back. I wrapped my fingers around his throat, rubbing at the sore spot he had on the side of his trachea.
Making a ‘tsk’ sound with my toungue, I shook my head.
Kankuro-neko-nin was red again…
omgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbqomgwtfbbq
Okay, sorry for the confusion. I haff been corrected; Stretchy in the cloak is Tomomi. Gomen.
Yeah, I realize it’s been forever. I’m just too lazy… argh..
Comment?
Running With Scissors: (ch2)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
All right, here we go! Chapter 2, here we come! By the way, this part is in First Person.
Running with Scissors
Chapter 2:
Pretty Fly
I looked in the direction Ryuusei was pointing. Focusing on my optical nerves, I could see them: A ragged bunch of ANBU, sprinting as fast as they could with their injuries. There must have been something horrid behind them… I slipped up, jumping straight into the air, and beat my wings, keeping myself aloft, and waited for the lovely thermal that was available throughout this shadeless plain. Once I was a few thousand feet up, I had to start beating my wings again, and I focused my lungs until they adjusted to the quickly thinning air at this mountainous elevation. Again, that sort of terrified, dropping feeling in the pit of my stomach; I gritted my beak and ignored it, choosing instead to look, with my enhanced eyes and my newfound altitude, behind the normally visible curve of the Earth that blocked most from seeing more than seven miles or so. My eyes snapped open wide.
What the hell was that doing here?
And why was it heading so fast towards us?
Were we its target?
Suddenly protective and determined, I took one last breath and stopped beating my wings, tucking them tightly against my body. Immediately, I began to fall, increasing speed only slightly, having reached terminal velocity almost right away. As I waited to fall back down, I considered my options. I could grab them all and run, wait for it (and probably have to fight), or get trampled by the terrified shinobi thundering their way towards us.
Nearing the ground, I made my decision, and, loosing an ear-piercing shriek, got their attention, as well of those of the sprinting ANBU and that running behind them, and threw out squid-like rubbery arms to snake onto the ground and slow my descent. Onee-sama was watching me, something bordering on worry flashing across her face, leaving her calm and composed. Ryuusei looked bored, and Ikin was almost jumping up and down in anticipation of my news.
Once I got to the valley floor, retracting the landing pillars, I made a mouth and started telling them, speaking rapidly, almost too fast to follow. Having shared my findings, I stretched into my ‘pleasant company’ form, and waited for conformation that they had understood me.
Ikin nodded curtly, tacking on a small grunt to show he grasped the situation. Ryuusei took a deep breath and held it, the information we had just gained scrolling through the heavy glass bangle she wore on her left wrist; it ended as quickly as it had come, leaving the perfectly smooth surface clear and unmarked.
Onee-sama twitched a few fingers, pulling me into a standing position, and had me reach towards her to make contact, assuring both of us that it was really the other, and not some impostor. We weren’t going to fall for that again; everyone nearly died last time we did.
Pushing that to the back of my mind, I paid attention to what Leader-chan was saying. His face was perfectly serious, but I saw a glint of excitement in his eyes. I smiled inwardly. He never changed.
“-- and Sei-chan, go with Fuukami and Kaeori; they’ll be incapacitated once it gets here. Wakarimashita?” He was smiling openly now, unable to contain his glee at the prospect of blood.
I nodded politely along with the other girls, biting my lip in an effort not to burst out laughing. This is serious, I reminded myself. The giggles subsided, our threesome having left Ikin behind us, building up strength; maybe he was even doing some kata while he was waiting.
We dashed towards the rising dust-cloud rising lazily behind the wounded shinobi, raising one of our own in our wake. As soon as we reached them, I reached out and pulled them in, extending my shell around all seven of us, having already moved my senses to the outer edge of my skin, so I was able to see what was happening inside as well as watching the approaching menace, judging quickly that we had about three hours and forty-eight minutes until it got here, and relayed the information as such to my companions working inside me. I felt them nod, and I turned my focus back onto the fallen soldiers.
In their haste, my sister and my companion had forgotten to remove the masks and various weapons from the four lying within my protective hide. Leaning backwards a little, I grabbed the weapons, masks, and outer clothing of our newest patients, tugging them off gently, my arms glowing green as I searched their bodies for wounds to avoid.
The first man seemed to be about my age, tall and frail. His hair was red, and I frowned slightly, lifting a bit of it to check if it was that color naturally. Weirdly enough, his hair was colored that way not because of copious amounts of fresh blood, but by genetics. How strange.
His Suna headband was clenched in his hand, almost as tattered as he was, and I began sweeping across his thin frame, healing minor injuries first as I searched for the worst bits. As I swept my hands over his pelvic area, he gasped, and I shot back up to his face, tilting my head sideways in confusion. Did I do something wrong?
The youth cracked open one eye, scanning me quickly. I drew back a bit, surprised at the accompanying flare of yellow chakra. He found me attractive? I was still a bit shaky on what was considered ‘attractive’, and I leaned forward, lowering my head until I was looking him in the eye. A flash of red caught my eye, and I noticed the blush spreading rapidly up his face and neck. Was he confused about my intentions? To prove to him I was not an enemy, I removed my hands and sat back, placing my arms at my side, exposing my vitals in a trusting gesture. His eyes widened, and his blush receded a bit, and he tried to sit up.
Immediately, I spread the ‘floor’ to hold him down in a protective shelter, restraining him from rising at all. I frowned at him, shaking my head as one would with a troublesome child. I reached up to his head, and he froze, following my hand with his eyes.
Two things happened at once.
I brushed his hair off his forehead gently, smiling at him, completely unaware of what was going to happen next.
A wave of sand grabbed me, and held me where I was, confusing and surprising me. I looked frantically down at the boy I was tending to, realizing quickly that he was controlling it.
“Let me go,” I pleaded. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. He cracked open his lips to speak, but only a rasping attempt at speech left his throat. His black-rimmed eyes dimmed, seeming almost sad. His chakra field, while normally huge, became larger as he closed his eyes. It expanded to encompass me, and searched my body. I closed my eyes, bracing for the thrust required to enter someone’s mind, which came, making me gasp.
The Suna shinobi wriggled uncomfortably, seeming not to like my discomfort, or his restraints. I retracted them, telling him with my eyes still closed, “Don’t move; you’ll just injure yourself further.” Something about the way I was treating him clicked in his mind, registering as a blip on my radar. He had realized I wasn’t going to hurt him.
Good.
With a sigh, he relaxed, all tendrils of mine, his, and his sand, retracting to their origins. I opened my eyes and began conducting an exam of his injuries.
His chest had some bruises on it, and it had had a few minor cuts as well, all of which I had already dealt with. However, there was a gash on his shoulder, traveling down to the left side of his chest. It was red and irritated; not a good sign.
Treatment time: twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds.
When I left him, he was meditating. I still had no idea who he was, except that he was an insomniac, no sleep from birth; he was a jinchuuriki, which was surprising, but good to know; he had the kanji ‘ai’ or ‘love’ scarred on his forehead; his hair was most definitely that color naturally (just keep thinking about it); and he had no eyebrows.
That was the funny part.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Don’t worry; she’s going to tend to the other three next. By the way, she’s 14 yoa in this story.
No introductions until next chapter! However, I will tell you this:
Leader: Ikin
Glass: Ryuusei
Strong: Kaeori
Cloak: Fuukami
Hope you liked this chapter!
All right, here we go! Chapter 2, here we come! By the way, this part is in First Person.
Running with Scissors
Chapter 2:
Pretty Fly
I looked in the direction Ryuusei was pointing. Focusing on my optical nerves, I could see them: A ragged bunch of ANBU, sprinting as fast as they could with their injuries. There must have been something horrid behind them… I slipped up, jumping straight into the air, and beat my wings, keeping myself aloft, and waited for the lovely thermal that was available throughout this shadeless plain. Once I was a few thousand feet up, I had to start beating my wings again, and I focused my lungs until they adjusted to the quickly thinning air at this mountainous elevation. Again, that sort of terrified, dropping feeling in the pit of my stomach; I gritted my beak and ignored it, choosing instead to look, with my enhanced eyes and my newfound altitude, behind the normally visible curve of the Earth that blocked most from seeing more than seven miles or so. My eyes snapped open wide.
What the hell was that doing here?
And why was it heading so fast towards us?
Were we its target?
Suddenly protective and determined, I took one last breath and stopped beating my wings, tucking them tightly against my body. Immediately, I began to fall, increasing speed only slightly, having reached terminal velocity almost right away. As I waited to fall back down, I considered my options. I could grab them all and run, wait for it (and probably have to fight), or get trampled by the terrified shinobi thundering their way towards us.
Nearing the ground, I made my decision, and, loosing an ear-piercing shriek, got their attention, as well of those of the sprinting ANBU and that running behind them, and threw out squid-like rubbery arms to snake onto the ground and slow my descent. Onee-sama was watching me, something bordering on worry flashing across her face, leaving her calm and composed. Ryuusei looked bored, and Ikin was almost jumping up and down in anticipation of my news.
Once I got to the valley floor, retracting the landing pillars, I made a mouth and started telling them, speaking rapidly, almost too fast to follow. Having shared my findings, I stretched into my ‘pleasant company’ form, and waited for conformation that they had understood me.
Ikin nodded curtly, tacking on a small grunt to show he grasped the situation. Ryuusei took a deep breath and held it, the information we had just gained scrolling through the heavy glass bangle she wore on her left wrist; it ended as quickly as it had come, leaving the perfectly smooth surface clear and unmarked.
Onee-sama twitched a few fingers, pulling me into a standing position, and had me reach towards her to make contact, assuring both of us that it was really the other, and not some impostor. We weren’t going to fall for that again; everyone nearly died last time we did.
Pushing that to the back of my mind, I paid attention to what Leader-chan was saying. His face was perfectly serious, but I saw a glint of excitement in his eyes. I smiled inwardly. He never changed.
“-- and Sei-chan, go with Fuukami and Kaeori; they’ll be incapacitated once it gets here. Wakarimashita?” He was smiling openly now, unable to contain his glee at the prospect of blood.
I nodded politely along with the other girls, biting my lip in an effort not to burst out laughing. This is serious, I reminded myself. The giggles subsided, our threesome having left Ikin behind us, building up strength; maybe he was even doing some kata while he was waiting.
We dashed towards the rising dust-cloud rising lazily behind the wounded shinobi, raising one of our own in our wake. As soon as we reached them, I reached out and pulled them in, extending my shell around all seven of us, having already moved my senses to the outer edge of my skin, so I was able to see what was happening inside as well as watching the approaching menace, judging quickly that we had about three hours and forty-eight minutes until it got here, and relayed the information as such to my companions working inside me. I felt them nod, and I turned my focus back onto the fallen soldiers.
In their haste, my sister and my companion had forgotten to remove the masks and various weapons from the four lying within my protective hide. Leaning backwards a little, I grabbed the weapons, masks, and outer clothing of our newest patients, tugging them off gently, my arms glowing green as I searched their bodies for wounds to avoid.
The first man seemed to be about my age, tall and frail. His hair was red, and I frowned slightly, lifting a bit of it to check if it was that color naturally. Weirdly enough, his hair was colored that way not because of copious amounts of fresh blood, but by genetics. How strange.
His Suna headband was clenched in his hand, almost as tattered as he was, and I began sweeping across his thin frame, healing minor injuries first as I searched for the worst bits. As I swept my hands over his pelvic area, he gasped, and I shot back up to his face, tilting my head sideways in confusion. Did I do something wrong?
The youth cracked open one eye, scanning me quickly. I drew back a bit, surprised at the accompanying flare of yellow chakra. He found me attractive? I was still a bit shaky on what was considered ‘attractive’, and I leaned forward, lowering my head until I was looking him in the eye. A flash of red caught my eye, and I noticed the blush spreading rapidly up his face and neck. Was he confused about my intentions? To prove to him I was not an enemy, I removed my hands and sat back, placing my arms at my side, exposing my vitals in a trusting gesture. His eyes widened, and his blush receded a bit, and he tried to sit up.
Immediately, I spread the ‘floor’ to hold him down in a protective shelter, restraining him from rising at all. I frowned at him, shaking my head as one would with a troublesome child. I reached up to his head, and he froze, following my hand with his eyes.
Two things happened at once.
I brushed his hair off his forehead gently, smiling at him, completely unaware of what was going to happen next.
A wave of sand grabbed me, and held me where I was, confusing and surprising me. I looked frantically down at the boy I was tending to, realizing quickly that he was controlling it.
“Let me go,” I pleaded. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. He cracked open his lips to speak, but only a rasping attempt at speech left his throat. His black-rimmed eyes dimmed, seeming almost sad. His chakra field, while normally huge, became larger as he closed his eyes. It expanded to encompass me, and searched my body. I closed my eyes, bracing for the thrust required to enter someone’s mind, which came, making me gasp.
The Suna shinobi wriggled uncomfortably, seeming not to like my discomfort, or his restraints. I retracted them, telling him with my eyes still closed, “Don’t move; you’ll just injure yourself further.” Something about the way I was treating him clicked in his mind, registering as a blip on my radar. He had realized I wasn’t going to hurt him.
Good.
With a sigh, he relaxed, all tendrils of mine, his, and his sand, retracting to their origins. I opened my eyes and began conducting an exam of his injuries.
His chest had some bruises on it, and it had had a few minor cuts as well, all of which I had already dealt with. However, there was a gash on his shoulder, traveling down to the left side of his chest. It was red and irritated; not a good sign.
Treatment time: twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds.
When I left him, he was meditating. I still had no idea who he was, except that he was an insomniac, no sleep from birth; he was a jinchuuriki, which was surprising, but good to know; he had the kanji ‘ai’ or ‘love’ scarred on his forehead; his hair was most definitely that color naturally (just keep thinking about it); and he had no eyebrows.
That was the funny part.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Don’t worry; she’s going to tend to the other three next. By the way, she’s 14 yoa in this story.
No introductions until next chapter! However, I will tell you this:
Leader: Ikin
Glass: Ryuusei
Strong: Kaeori
Cloak: Fuukami
Hope you liked this chapter!
Running With Scissors
Disclaimer: own naught. Oc’s, ours.
This is the story of a few of our OC’s! in Naruverse. They are part of the InterNational Peace Effort, or INPE.
Edit note: since this is getting lots of attention on Burokun's account (omgwtf i WROTE IT *indidgnant) i thought i'd post it.
Caution: THIS FILE IS CLASSIFIED. HANDLE WITH CARE.
Running with Scissors
Chapter 1: WTF City
“What is it with all this dust?”
A female scream echoed across the gigantic, empty field. It was completely still except for the plumes of fine dust that rose wherever the four stepped. This was not a good place to be a ninja.
Or thirsty, for that matter.
The little group was tired, hungry, thirsty, and the majority of them were pissed off. The only one who wasn’t complaining was a little girl, who appeared to be very interested in the wind. She stuck up both arms together, then pulled them apart to rest at her sides, leaving a delicate sheet of glass suspended in the air. She closed her eyes, holding the glass whorl gently, and walking forward. If you were to look very closely, she was frowning slightly in concentration.
All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open.
“Hey.”
Her friends turned to look at her quizzically.
The boy, apparently the leader of the group, sighed dramatically, and rested his hand on his hip, tipping his head back slightly. He regarded her through slitted eyes. What’s she thinking? I wish I could tell… He grinned, suddenly quite sure of what was going to come out of her mouth next. From various places on his body, he picked two scrolls, one with an image of a snail, the other with a picture of a kunai, obviously for summoning. He hefted them in his hands, feeling their comforting weight, and stood still, grinning cockily, still throwing the scrolls up and catching them on their way down, obviously a nervous occupation.
The tall, stocky woman who had been plodding along at the front of the group looked at her, and sighed. What was it now? She sighed, sure they would have to wait even longer this time until the girl spoke. Taking her long ponytail in her hand, she began to fiddle with it nervously, glancing over at the boy to gauge his reaction. He always seemed to know what the younger girl was going to say; that is, if he was paying any attention at all.
Member number four, currently wearing a huge, light white cloak, was sniffing the ground like a dog; she seemed to fade, and the cloth fluttered down to fall and drape over the large dog that had appeared there, snuffling at the ground. She wasn’t paying any attention to the silent conversation. As usual. The tallest of the three females grunted boredly, and twitched her left middle finger and thumb. With a sweeping step, the cloaked girl straightened up and padded over to join the group. She cocked her head to the side, awaiting instructions from her puppet-master.
The fragile-seeming girl drew a stream of glass from the huge metal haz-mat barrel strapped to her back. The glass slipped lazily and pointed towards the south, the direction they were facing. “They’re coming….” She yawned openly. “I’m already bored…”
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Okay, I know you want to know who they are, so I’ll tell you next chapter! The OC’s belong to moi, nate-squid-kun, and ino-brooke-chan, respectively. Names next time!
However! We own nothing but the ideas. Okay? Go find someone else to sue.
But… as a special challenge:
I’m going to give you how to spell their names!
In KANJI!!
Mwahahaha!
Format: First name, Family name.
Leader: 行き 発見
Glass: 流星 昏睡
Strong woman: 家江折 山中
Cloak w/ short attention span: 風神 七砂羽
Techincal detail: these, put together, spell their names. In hiragana.
They do NOT mean their names. That would be like calling someone ‘flower bird face’ instead of ‘Bob’.
Good luck!
This is the story of a few of our OC’s! in Naruverse. They are part of the InterNational Peace Effort, or INPE.
Edit note: since this is getting lots of attention on Burokun's account (omgwtf i WROTE IT *indidgnant) i thought i'd post it.
Caution: THIS FILE IS CLASSIFIED. HANDLE WITH CARE.
Running with Scissors
Chapter 1: WTF City
“What is it with all this dust?”
A female scream echoed across the gigantic, empty field. It was completely still except for the plumes of fine dust that rose wherever the four stepped. This was not a good place to be a ninja.
Or thirsty, for that matter.
The little group was tired, hungry, thirsty, and the majority of them were pissed off. The only one who wasn’t complaining was a little girl, who appeared to be very interested in the wind. She stuck up both arms together, then pulled them apart to rest at her sides, leaving a delicate sheet of glass suspended in the air. She closed her eyes, holding the glass whorl gently, and walking forward. If you were to look very closely, she was frowning slightly in concentration.
All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open.
“Hey.”
Her friends turned to look at her quizzically.
The boy, apparently the leader of the group, sighed dramatically, and rested his hand on his hip, tipping his head back slightly. He regarded her through slitted eyes. What’s she thinking? I wish I could tell… He grinned, suddenly quite sure of what was going to come out of her mouth next. From various places on his body, he picked two scrolls, one with an image of a snail, the other with a picture of a kunai, obviously for summoning. He hefted them in his hands, feeling their comforting weight, and stood still, grinning cockily, still throwing the scrolls up and catching them on their way down, obviously a nervous occupation.
The tall, stocky woman who had been plodding along at the front of the group looked at her, and sighed. What was it now? She sighed, sure they would have to wait even longer this time until the girl spoke. Taking her long ponytail in her hand, she began to fiddle with it nervously, glancing over at the boy to gauge his reaction. He always seemed to know what the younger girl was going to say; that is, if he was paying any attention at all.
Member number four, currently wearing a huge, light white cloak, was sniffing the ground like a dog; she seemed to fade, and the cloth fluttered down to fall and drape over the large dog that had appeared there, snuffling at the ground. She wasn’t paying any attention to the silent conversation. As usual. The tallest of the three females grunted boredly, and twitched her left middle finger and thumb. With a sweeping step, the cloaked girl straightened up and padded over to join the group. She cocked her head to the side, awaiting instructions from her puppet-master.
The fragile-seeming girl drew a stream of glass from the huge metal haz-mat barrel strapped to her back. The glass slipped lazily and pointed towards the south, the direction they were facing. “They’re coming….” She yawned openly. “I’m already bored…”
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Okay, I know you want to know who they are, so I’ll tell you next chapter! The OC’s belong to moi, nate-squid-kun, and ino-brooke-chan, respectively. Names next time!
However! We own nothing but the ideas. Okay? Go find someone else to sue.
But… as a special challenge:
I’m going to give you how to spell their names!
In KANJI!!
Mwahahaha!
Format: First name, Family name.
Leader: 行き 発見
Glass: 流星 昏睡
Strong woman: 家江折 山中
Cloak w/ short attention span: 風神 七砂羽
Techincal detail: these, put together, spell their names. In hiragana.
They do NOT mean their names. That would be like calling someone ‘flower bird face’ instead of ‘Bob’.
Good luck!
Maross
Maross
xy-x-xy
Stalking through the various halls of a traditional Japanese home wasn’t very interesting, even to someone who was completely acclimated to bland, absolutely neutral spaces. In his boredom, he had stomped down each corridor at least five times, trying to figure out what He would want him here, bored, for. He’d pried up various floorboards, opened each book carefully, checked each bird, each rock, each spider innocently spinning webs, dangling from proud stalks that were stronger than steel by ratio.
But it was so boring.
Even after all the years of just lying, not opening his eyes, breathing as steadily as he could, trying consciously not to think of anything, not to move, to not damage himself. At least that was constant, but to be ripped once more from the clutches of something familiar and plunged into utterly testing circumstances? It was just too much.
A chakra flare, unbidden, but unnoticed, spiked through the terra-cotta tiles, staining the roof with his signature. When he was unstable like this, he had little or no chakra control, and even less patience. He was born a warrior, raised a warrior, lived a life of struggle and mostly eventual failure, but he tried. Gods, he tried.
He ground his teeth in frustration, trying not to yell. What the hell did He want him to do? What would He want him to do? He would probably tell him to see beneath the beneath, or something else that made equally less sense. A sigh escaped his lips, jaw loosening, and he slumped to the floor. Ever since the disease had ruined him, he was of no use to Him. He had gone off to find Himself a different container, disappointment and disapproval heavy on His lips. It had broken him, crushed him, to be so worthless. To his further disgrace, He kept him alive, for some unknown reason, a kindness the kind of which was never granted, mystifying the other inhabitants of the complex. Even though he was useless, He kept him alive. Perhaps He cared for him.
And that was why it hurt to still be alive. He wanted to return His kindness, his gesture of a softer side never exposed, not for almost thirty years, not even to His right-hand man, Kabuto; but he was of absolutely no use, and it pained him to be so weak. Would that his pain was of some use to Him; but no, the gods would not grant him even that. He had finally found somewhere to place his worth, to pledge his loyalty to, and then…. Then his knees were cut out from under him; he was made a burden onto That which was most precious to him.
He shook, head in his hands, sobbing hollowly, body racked with sadness. Never had he cried! Not even that day, that day when he was told of his disease, that he was rejected as a candidate for containership. Even then, he had simply listened, shoving the anger and pain and the tears to the bottom of his heart, ignoring them for His sake. It hurt! Why did it hurt so? Why--
“Why am I so useless?” he asked the empty house, clutching his head as if it would break into a thousand pieces. “What did I--”
He paused, whipping his head to the left, fingers still digging into the sides of his scalp. Someone was here.
“Tadaima,” called the intruder.
I’m home?
The boy stood shakily, scrabbling at his elbow, which had grown and extruded a small hand-knife, completely by reflex, a reaction to the tightness in his chest. What’s happening? Something is happening, he observed dimly, focused on the person at the door, who had taken off their shoes and thunked inside, not caring if anyone heard them. He took one step forward, testing to see if he could walk, and then another, and another. His face tightened into a frown of concentration, then relaxed completely into a mask of calm, readying himself for various situations he had memorized by brute force from the books about psychology he had read, explaining a normal human’s reaction to various stimuli. He continued to pad his way down the hall and around the corner, into the kitchen, staying in the shadows.
Finally.
The white-haired teenager laid his body flat against the wall, observing the person before him. No people had been in the house for six months now, not even any of the people on the street, whispering to themselves as if no one could hear, shooting the mansion curious looks. Perhaps something on the outside of the house was particularly interesting. He wouldn’t know, not having gone outside himself. Watery teal eyes, flanked on the bottom and sides closer to his ears by red tattoos, darted back and forth, looking startled at the clothes dumped on the floor, the fire started in the fireplace, resting, unsure, on the strangely-shaped items on the table. His namesake eyebrow-tattoos, common among nobles for the last six centuries up until the de-establishment of the feudal system ninety years ago, rose in confusion along with white eyebrows. He gripped his bone knife tightly, frowning in concentration.
The house’s absentee owner looked up suddenly, staring straight into the boy’s eyes, and he cursed inwardly, his face twisting in disappointment that he didn’t fool the house’s original caretaker. He looked so sad that for a moment the nin was disarmed completely, melting into an empathetic puddle.
“Kimimaro, would you like to have some eggs? They’re fresh.”
Kimimaro froze, jerking back in surprise at finding that this person knew his name. But h-he… I-I thought that… His calm melted completely and he slid to the floor, defeated. The man standing above him sighed and tsk-ed as he gently slipped his hands under the other’s arms, then under his knees, carrying him like a wounded deer to the futon in the corner, where he set him down, then sat next to him, legs crossed. He studied the white-haired male for a moment before offering his hand as if he expected to shake with him. Kimimaro studied it quietly for a moment before looking back up at the other’s face with a stare so intense and unnerving that he blinked a moment, then looked down. The slightly shorter of the two saw his hand and realized.
“You grasp it with your opposite hand and shake it. It’s a gesture of greeting.”
Studying his hand unsurely the whole time as if it would bite him, the one sitting on the futon did as he was instructed, and the chuunin grinned, shaking it firmly.
“What… what are you doing here?”
The near-black eyes of the person in questioned widened. “I… I live here…” he explained calmly. “This is my house. And you…” he pointed accusingly at the young man sitting on his futon. “You seem to be a squatter. I saw you in the Bingo Book. Kimimaro, Sound nin. Jounin. Correct?” Kimimaro nodded slowly. “Good. I’m Nara Shikamaru. I’m only a chuunin… It’s not like I could win if I tried to beat you, so I’m just hoping you’re not feeling particularly hostile at the moment.” He squatted, hands on his knees, and stood up, walking back over to the stove where he grabbed the pan, cursing softly, and shook the almost-burnt eggs onto a plate. With a flamboyant whirl, he turned to face his discovery, offering him a plate and chopsticks. “Here you go. Itadakimasu!” he chorused, digging in.
Kimimaro just blinked.
What was he supposed to do with this?
zutezutezutezutezutezutezutezutezute
The beginning of a story. Is it any good?
The title is not a made-up word; it’s made of Latin roots, and it’s perfectly legitimate. Mar- or mare- meaning ‘ocean’ or ‘sea’ and os(s/t)- meaning ‘bone’, as in osteoporosis.
So it means ‘sea bone’.
As you may have guessed, He is Orochimaru.
‘Tadaima’ means ‘I’m home’ and ‘itadakimasu’ is something you say before you eat.
Comment, or I’ll send an angsting Sasuke to talk your head off!
xy-x-xy
Stalking through the various halls of a traditional Japanese home wasn’t very interesting, even to someone who was completely acclimated to bland, absolutely neutral spaces. In his boredom, he had stomped down each corridor at least five times, trying to figure out what He would want him here, bored, for. He’d pried up various floorboards, opened each book carefully, checked each bird, each rock, each spider innocently spinning webs, dangling from proud stalks that were stronger than steel by ratio.
But it was so boring.
Even after all the years of just lying, not opening his eyes, breathing as steadily as he could, trying consciously not to think of anything, not to move, to not damage himself. At least that was constant, but to be ripped once more from the clutches of something familiar and plunged into utterly testing circumstances? It was just too much.
A chakra flare, unbidden, but unnoticed, spiked through the terra-cotta tiles, staining the roof with his signature. When he was unstable like this, he had little or no chakra control, and even less patience. He was born a warrior, raised a warrior, lived a life of struggle and mostly eventual failure, but he tried. Gods, he tried.
He ground his teeth in frustration, trying not to yell. What the hell did He want him to do? What would He want him to do? He would probably tell him to see beneath the beneath, or something else that made equally less sense. A sigh escaped his lips, jaw loosening, and he slumped to the floor. Ever since the disease had ruined him, he was of no use to Him. He had gone off to find Himself a different container, disappointment and disapproval heavy on His lips. It had broken him, crushed him, to be so worthless. To his further disgrace, He kept him alive, for some unknown reason, a kindness the kind of which was never granted, mystifying the other inhabitants of the complex. Even though he was useless, He kept him alive. Perhaps He cared for him.
And that was why it hurt to still be alive. He wanted to return His kindness, his gesture of a softer side never exposed, not for almost thirty years, not even to His right-hand man, Kabuto; but he was of absolutely no use, and it pained him to be so weak. Would that his pain was of some use to Him; but no, the gods would not grant him even that. He had finally found somewhere to place his worth, to pledge his loyalty to, and then…. Then his knees were cut out from under him; he was made a burden onto That which was most precious to him.
He shook, head in his hands, sobbing hollowly, body racked with sadness. Never had he cried! Not even that day, that day when he was told of his disease, that he was rejected as a candidate for containership. Even then, he had simply listened, shoving the anger and pain and the tears to the bottom of his heart, ignoring them for His sake. It hurt! Why did it hurt so? Why--
“Why am I so useless?” he asked the empty house, clutching his head as if it would break into a thousand pieces. “What did I--”
He paused, whipping his head to the left, fingers still digging into the sides of his scalp. Someone was here.
“Tadaima,” called the intruder.
I’m home?
The boy stood shakily, scrabbling at his elbow, which had grown and extruded a small hand-knife, completely by reflex, a reaction to the tightness in his chest. What’s happening? Something is happening, he observed dimly, focused on the person at the door, who had taken off their shoes and thunked inside, not caring if anyone heard them. He took one step forward, testing to see if he could walk, and then another, and another. His face tightened into a frown of concentration, then relaxed completely into a mask of calm, readying himself for various situations he had memorized by brute force from the books about psychology he had read, explaining a normal human’s reaction to various stimuli. He continued to pad his way down the hall and around the corner, into the kitchen, staying in the shadows.
Finally.
The white-haired teenager laid his body flat against the wall, observing the person before him. No people had been in the house for six months now, not even any of the people on the street, whispering to themselves as if no one could hear, shooting the mansion curious looks. Perhaps something on the outside of the house was particularly interesting. He wouldn’t know, not having gone outside himself. Watery teal eyes, flanked on the bottom and sides closer to his ears by red tattoos, darted back and forth, looking startled at the clothes dumped on the floor, the fire started in the fireplace, resting, unsure, on the strangely-shaped items on the table. His namesake eyebrow-tattoos, common among nobles for the last six centuries up until the de-establishment of the feudal system ninety years ago, rose in confusion along with white eyebrows. He gripped his bone knife tightly, frowning in concentration.
The house’s absentee owner looked up suddenly, staring straight into the boy’s eyes, and he cursed inwardly, his face twisting in disappointment that he didn’t fool the house’s original caretaker. He looked so sad that for a moment the nin was disarmed completely, melting into an empathetic puddle.
“Kimimaro, would you like to have some eggs? They’re fresh.”
Kimimaro froze, jerking back in surprise at finding that this person knew his name. But h-he… I-I thought that… His calm melted completely and he slid to the floor, defeated. The man standing above him sighed and tsk-ed as he gently slipped his hands under the other’s arms, then under his knees, carrying him like a wounded deer to the futon in the corner, where he set him down, then sat next to him, legs crossed. He studied the white-haired male for a moment before offering his hand as if he expected to shake with him. Kimimaro studied it quietly for a moment before looking back up at the other’s face with a stare so intense and unnerving that he blinked a moment, then looked down. The slightly shorter of the two saw his hand and realized.
“You grasp it with your opposite hand and shake it. It’s a gesture of greeting.”
Studying his hand unsurely the whole time as if it would bite him, the one sitting on the futon did as he was instructed, and the chuunin grinned, shaking it firmly.
“What… what are you doing here?”
The near-black eyes of the person in questioned widened. “I… I live here…” he explained calmly. “This is my house. And you…” he pointed accusingly at the young man sitting on his futon. “You seem to be a squatter. I saw you in the Bingo Book. Kimimaro, Sound nin. Jounin. Correct?” Kimimaro nodded slowly. “Good. I’m Nara Shikamaru. I’m only a chuunin… It’s not like I could win if I tried to beat you, so I’m just hoping you’re not feeling particularly hostile at the moment.” He squatted, hands on his knees, and stood up, walking back over to the stove where he grabbed the pan, cursing softly, and shook the almost-burnt eggs onto a plate. With a flamboyant whirl, he turned to face his discovery, offering him a plate and chopsticks. “Here you go. Itadakimasu!” he chorused, digging in.
Kimimaro just blinked.
What was he supposed to do with this?
zutezutezutezutezutezutezutezutezute
The beginning of a story. Is it any good?
The title is not a made-up word; it’s made of Latin roots, and it’s perfectly legitimate. Mar- or mare- meaning ‘ocean’ or ‘sea’ and os(s/t)- meaning ‘bone’, as in osteoporosis.
So it means ‘sea bone’.
As you may have guessed, He is Orochimaru.
‘Tadaima’ means ‘I’m home’ and ‘itadakimasu’ is something you say before you eat.
Comment, or I’ll send an angsting Sasuke to talk your head off!
Far Off Target (ch2)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: When Gaara finds a girl passed out in the desert, she ends up staying there for a while, but her presence causes some, uh… problems… rated T for now, fruit to come.
Awright, here’s the next chapter.
By the way: narration, thought, “speech,” emphasis.
Far Off Target: Chapter Two
Long Time Waiting
As far as she could tell, either the Kazekage was really shy or just not there.
After trying to get an audience for eight consecutive days, she gave up and started looking for an apartment. Judging by her success rate as of that morning, she had better get comfy, because it would take a very, very long time to get the stupid message where it was going. Well, so much for that.
Her orders from the Tsuchikage were to deliver the message personally to the Kazekage. Apparently, it must be important. Otherwise he would’ve just sent it up the ladder and it might eventually reach the Kazekage; but no, he had to have it personally hand-delivered to the Kazekage. Surely he was well aware of the stepped-up security after the whole Akatsuki incident earlier that year, and yet he insisted upon this course of action.
Looking up, she realized she had wandered into the residential district. May as well get it over with, she thought with a sigh.
The inside of these mud brick buildings was pleasantly cool and dry. She readjusted her hitai-ate and walked quietly up to the desk that rose from the middle of the floor, as if someone had pulled the mud up like a cloth and let it dry there. She coughed slightly to announce her presence, and the poor woman’s head jerked up and she jumped. Mayu ran her tongue across her lips to speak.
“Um… I’m looking for a room to rent for a while. Do you have any vacancies?”
“Let me see… hm. Well, dear, you’re very lucky- we have six apartments open at this moment. They range from small to medium-sized. Have you got a preference for direction, size, stuff like that…?”
Mayu shook her head. “Anything is fine.”
The woman smiled. “You’re a kunoichi, aren’t you? We get shinobi through here a lot, looking for somewhere to sleep where they can’t fall off or get stabbed… yes, how will this do?” she showed her a drawing of a small one-person room, which looked comfortable enough, with a small map of its location in the complex and some number details below the image. The girl nodded.
“That’s perfect.”
“All right then, just sign here… this is where it is, it’s over that way. Thank you, and have a nice day.” The secretary lady pointed to the side, and Mayu, having taken the map and thanked the woman again, set off.
She sighed. What was she supposed to do until she got the stupid message to the Kazekage? Should she get a job, or focus on contact? Stretching, she decided to think about that in the morning. Right now, she needed sleep.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Stupid branches, Neji thought. Why was he even going to Suna, anyway? It was boring, hot, dry, and boring. All he was doing on this mission was just getting some kunoichi with an important message, legally or otherwise. Missions like this weren’t usually A-rank, so the girl probably had no idea what the scroll she carried said. He grimaced. Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten to the Kazekage yet, and they still had a chance to intercept it before it got through the security to the village leader. Poor kid, he mused. She’s in for a hard time. I almost feel sorry for her.
Neji grinned in anticipation.
Almost.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Was it all right? I love cliffhangers… As promised, I updated when I got a review! Thank you very much! Tell me what you want to see, or if you have an idea, or even if you hate this story and wish I would just die. Comment, please!
Summary: When Gaara finds a girl passed out in the desert, she ends up staying there for a while, but her presence causes some, uh… problems… rated T for now, fruit to come.
Awright, here’s the next chapter.
By the way: narration, thought, “speech,” emphasis.
Far Off Target: Chapter Two
Long Time Waiting
As far as she could tell, either the Kazekage was really shy or just not there.
After trying to get an audience for eight consecutive days, she gave up and started looking for an apartment. Judging by her success rate as of that morning, she had better get comfy, because it would take a very, very long time to get the stupid message where it was going. Well, so much for that.
Her orders from the Tsuchikage were to deliver the message personally to the Kazekage. Apparently, it must be important. Otherwise he would’ve just sent it up the ladder and it might eventually reach the Kazekage; but no, he had to have it personally hand-delivered to the Kazekage. Surely he was well aware of the stepped-up security after the whole Akatsuki incident earlier that year, and yet he insisted upon this course of action.
Looking up, she realized she had wandered into the residential district. May as well get it over with, she thought with a sigh.
The inside of these mud brick buildings was pleasantly cool and dry. She readjusted her hitai-ate and walked quietly up to the desk that rose from the middle of the floor, as if someone had pulled the mud up like a cloth and let it dry there. She coughed slightly to announce her presence, and the poor woman’s head jerked up and she jumped. Mayu ran her tongue across her lips to speak.
“Um… I’m looking for a room to rent for a while. Do you have any vacancies?”
“Let me see… hm. Well, dear, you’re very lucky- we have six apartments open at this moment. They range from small to medium-sized. Have you got a preference for direction, size, stuff like that…?”
Mayu shook her head. “Anything is fine.”
The woman smiled. “You’re a kunoichi, aren’t you? We get shinobi through here a lot, looking for somewhere to sleep where they can’t fall off or get stabbed… yes, how will this do?” she showed her a drawing of a small one-person room, which looked comfortable enough, with a small map of its location in the complex and some number details below the image. The girl nodded.
“That’s perfect.”
“All right then, just sign here… this is where it is, it’s over that way. Thank you, and have a nice day.” The secretary lady pointed to the side, and Mayu, having taken the map and thanked the woman again, set off.
She sighed. What was she supposed to do until she got the stupid message to the Kazekage? Should she get a job, or focus on contact? Stretching, she decided to think about that in the morning. Right now, she needed sleep.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Stupid branches, Neji thought. Why was he even going to Suna, anyway? It was boring, hot, dry, and boring. All he was doing on this mission was just getting some kunoichi with an important message, legally or otherwise. Missions like this weren’t usually A-rank, so the girl probably had no idea what the scroll she carried said. He grimaced. Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten to the Kazekage yet, and they still had a chance to intercept it before it got through the security to the village leader. Poor kid, he mused. She’s in for a hard time. I almost feel sorry for her.
Neji grinned in anticipation.
Almost.
omgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreaklineomgitsabreakline
Was it all right? I love cliffhangers… As promised, I updated when I got a review! Thank you very much! Tell me what you want to see, or if you have an idea, or even if you hate this story and wish I would just die. Comment, please!
Far Off Target
Her entire body begged her to stop, but she knew that if she gave in, she would die. Water was a necessity, and if she could just get to the next oasis, perhaps she would make it all the way to the Sand... Maybe, anyway.
Blows rang out across the endless expanse of sand. Leaping figures dashed towards each other then sprang apart with a loud report from their weapons. For a minute, one rested his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath, but the other, who was not tired at all, was behind him instantly. In one quick motion, his throat was slit, and the sand was red with his blood. The winner stood above his target, smirking. He leaned down and took his enemy’s hitai-ate, and drenched it in the man’s blood, before stalking off, leaving the body for whatever lucky scavenger happened upon it.
The dangerous redhead was on his way back to the village when he saw a person stumbling across the plain. He frowned, black-rimmed eyes narrowing. His eyes snapped open wide in recognition, and he sprinted to catch the girl who was already beginning to fall.
My eyes hurt. There was someone next to my bed, waiting for me to wake up, and he had fallen asleep. I smiled weakly. He must have been so worried…
I lifted my head carefully off the pillow, and the bed squeaked, waking him up immediately. His face took on a look of immediate concern.
“Are you all right?”
I looked at myself. Lifting my arms, I surveyed their condition, and, satisfied with their wholeness, I nodded, and let them fall back down onto the blanket.
His grim expression softened, and he almost smiled. I had never seen him smile before; it suited his face. Maybe I could get him to do it more often?
My lips were cracked and dry, and hurt as I responded, my voice creaky as if I had not used it in a long time. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked confused at my gratitude. “It’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to help me. You don’t even know who I am. Why--”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I can take care of myself. You, however…” He looked me over for a minute. “You look like you couldn’t even survive a week in the desert.”
I pouted, but he was right. I had almost died. It occurred to me that I had no idea what he was doing out there in the first place. I opened my mouth to ask him, and then shut it, having realized that that was none of my business. I shook my head to clear it. Remembering suddenly why I was trying to get there, I asked him where the Kazekage’s office was, and explained my reason for trying unsuccessfully to cross the huge, dry desert. He smirked, and told me that the Kazekage was out right now, but he would be back in a day or so, and I could visit him then. I thanked him, and slipped off the bed, feet touching the floor quietly. Pulling the curtain around the bed, I dressed, but by the time I was done, he was long gone. Sighing, I tied my forehead protector loosely around my neck, put my hair up in its usual ponytail, and picked up my things off the desk next to my bed.
I headed down the hall, looking for someone who might be able to tell me where I was and who I could talk to about checking out of the hospital.
“You what?”
The blond kunoichi paced around the room at the top of the tower.
“She just got here; what are you thinking? Gaara, we can’t take this kind of risk!”
Said person sighed and propped his head on his arm. Temari was such a worrier.
“She looks like she couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag, let alone be a serious threat to the village.” She frowned at him, and he sighed again. “I can’t win this, can I?”
She stared at him incredulously. “Remind me how the heck you got this job…?”
He rolled his eyes. Sisters were such a pain. “C’mon, Temari-nee-chan, just let it go. She’s a messenger. Maybe she has something important to tell us?”
Plunking herself down in a chair facing his desk, she continued to stare at him with disdain.
He sighed again. This was going to be a very long day.
---
comment, plz D:
Blows rang out across the endless expanse of sand. Leaping figures dashed towards each other then sprang apart with a loud report from their weapons. For a minute, one rested his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath, but the other, who was not tired at all, was behind him instantly. In one quick motion, his throat was slit, and the sand was red with his blood. The winner stood above his target, smirking. He leaned down and took his enemy’s hitai-ate, and drenched it in the man’s blood, before stalking off, leaving the body for whatever lucky scavenger happened upon it.
The dangerous redhead was on his way back to the village when he saw a person stumbling across the plain. He frowned, black-rimmed eyes narrowing. His eyes snapped open wide in recognition, and he sprinted to catch the girl who was already beginning to fall.
My eyes hurt. There was someone next to my bed, waiting for me to wake up, and he had fallen asleep. I smiled weakly. He must have been so worried…
I lifted my head carefully off the pillow, and the bed squeaked, waking him up immediately. His face took on a look of immediate concern.
“Are you all right?”
I looked at myself. Lifting my arms, I surveyed their condition, and, satisfied with their wholeness, I nodded, and let them fall back down onto the blanket.
His grim expression softened, and he almost smiled. I had never seen him smile before; it suited his face. Maybe I could get him to do it more often?
My lips were cracked and dry, and hurt as I responded, my voice creaky as if I had not used it in a long time. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked confused at my gratitude. “It’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to help me. You don’t even know who I am. Why--”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I can take care of myself. You, however…” He looked me over for a minute. “You look like you couldn’t even survive a week in the desert.”
I pouted, but he was right. I had almost died. It occurred to me that I had no idea what he was doing out there in the first place. I opened my mouth to ask him, and then shut it, having realized that that was none of my business. I shook my head to clear it. Remembering suddenly why I was trying to get there, I asked him where the Kazekage’s office was, and explained my reason for trying unsuccessfully to cross the huge, dry desert. He smirked, and told me that the Kazekage was out right now, but he would be back in a day or so, and I could visit him then. I thanked him, and slipped off the bed, feet touching the floor quietly. Pulling the curtain around the bed, I dressed, but by the time I was done, he was long gone. Sighing, I tied my forehead protector loosely around my neck, put my hair up in its usual ponytail, and picked up my things off the desk next to my bed.
I headed down the hall, looking for someone who might be able to tell me where I was and who I could talk to about checking out of the hospital.
“You what?”
The blond kunoichi paced around the room at the top of the tower.
“She just got here; what are you thinking? Gaara, we can’t take this kind of risk!”
Said person sighed and propped his head on his arm. Temari was such a worrier.
“She looks like she couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag, let alone be a serious threat to the village.” She frowned at him, and he sighed again. “I can’t win this, can I?”
She stared at him incredulously. “Remind me how the heck you got this job…?”
He rolled his eyes. Sisters were such a pain. “C’mon, Temari-nee-chan, just let it go. She’s a messenger. Maybe she has something important to tell us?”
Plunking herself down in a chair facing his desk, she continued to stare at him with disdain.
He sighed again. This was going to be a very long day.
---
comment, plz D:
Guess Who (Akatsuki Style)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Guess Who and Naruto belong to their respective owners.
The Akatsuki were playing “Guess Who” in their lair.
“Lessee… does your person have… blond hair?” Pein asked Hidan.
“No,” he answered from his position on the floor, impaled on a stick.
He turned his head on his neck to face the person next to him, who happened to be Zetsu. “Does your person have… piercings?”
“Yes. My turn.” Zetsu looked at Konan. “Does your person have… a mask?”
“Yep, but so do a lot of them…” Everybody nodded. They had played this game before. It was their favorite.
“Does your person have… one eye?” she asked Itachi, across the circle from her.
“Indeed…”
Itachi frowned, bringing the card closer to his face. He was having a lot of trouble seeing these days, but his new glasses were ugly.
“Tobi, does your person have… skin?”
“Nope!” sparkled the hyper snail-boy. “Deidara-sempai, can your person be killed?”
“Yes he can, yeah. But you’d have to get close enough first, yeah!”
Everybody laughed, except for Itachi, who thought Deidara was annoying. He elbowed Kisame, who immediately stopped laughing.
He continued, “Sasori-danna… is your person a girl?”
Everything was silent. They all knew what would happen next…
“Yes, dammit!” yelled Sasori.
He threw his card down and stomped out of the room, and went into a corner to pout. Sasori hated losing.
Kakuzu reached across the room and picked up the abandoned card, which, predictably, was Konan.
The drawing was very flowery.
He took one look at it, and flung it down, screaming, “It burns, it burns!”
The only female Akatsuki member grabbed his head and flung it out of the room, still squealing like a little girl.
“Two down,” she grinned maliciously.
The guys shivered.
Then it was Kisame’s turn. “Finally,” he sighed. “Hmm… Pein, does your person use genjustsu?”
“Yes,” answered Deidara.
“Hey! No peeking!” Pein swatted Deidara on the arm, and he ran away crying.
“What’s with him?” Tobi asked Zetsu.
Zetsu just shrugged. Or at least that’s what I think he was doing…
Meanwhile, Sasori and Deidara, having both quit, were having yet another argument about art.
Everybody just ignored them.
Kakuzu’s kitchen timer went off, and he leapt up to save his soufflé, grabbing his head as he ran.
Itachi developed a twitch under his eye.
Zetsu got hungry and went to find Kakuzu, trailing Tobi behind him, who was still chattering, “Tobi is a good boy!” over and over again.
The rest of the group looked at each other, shrugged, and left.
“Hey! What about me?” yelled Hidan, still praying. He sighed, and went back to work. His belly grumbled.
Itachi went off to see his optometrist, and Kisame followed him.
Pein sighed and got up.
Konan was asleep. She didn’t wake up until later.
----
comment, will you please?
The Akatsuki were playing “Guess Who” in their lair.
“Lessee… does your person have… blond hair?” Pein asked Hidan.
“No,” he answered from his position on the floor, impaled on a stick.
He turned his head on his neck to face the person next to him, who happened to be Zetsu. “Does your person have… piercings?”
“Yes. My turn.” Zetsu looked at Konan. “Does your person have… a mask?”
“Yep, but so do a lot of them…” Everybody nodded. They had played this game before. It was their favorite.
“Does your person have… one eye?” she asked Itachi, across the circle from her.
“Indeed…”
Itachi frowned, bringing the card closer to his face. He was having a lot of trouble seeing these days, but his new glasses were ugly.
“Tobi, does your person have… skin?”
“Nope!” sparkled the hyper snail-boy. “Deidara-sempai, can your person be killed?”
“Yes he can, yeah. But you’d have to get close enough first, yeah!”
Everybody laughed, except for Itachi, who thought Deidara was annoying. He elbowed Kisame, who immediately stopped laughing.
He continued, “Sasori-danna… is your person a girl?”
Everything was silent. They all knew what would happen next…
“Yes, dammit!” yelled Sasori.
He threw his card down and stomped out of the room, and went into a corner to pout. Sasori hated losing.
Kakuzu reached across the room and picked up the abandoned card, which, predictably, was Konan.
The drawing was very flowery.
He took one look at it, and flung it down, screaming, “It burns, it burns!”
The only female Akatsuki member grabbed his head and flung it out of the room, still squealing like a little girl.
“Two down,” she grinned maliciously.
The guys shivered.
Then it was Kisame’s turn. “Finally,” he sighed. “Hmm… Pein, does your person use genjustsu?”
“Yes,” answered Deidara.
“Hey! No peeking!” Pein swatted Deidara on the arm, and he ran away crying.
“What’s with him?” Tobi asked Zetsu.
Zetsu just shrugged. Or at least that’s what I think he was doing…
Meanwhile, Sasori and Deidara, having both quit, were having yet another argument about art.
Everybody just ignored them.
Kakuzu’s kitchen timer went off, and he leapt up to save his soufflé, grabbing his head as he ran.
Itachi developed a twitch under his eye.
Zetsu got hungry and went to find Kakuzu, trailing Tobi behind him, who was still chattering, “Tobi is a good boy!” over and over again.
The rest of the group looked at each other, shrugged, and left.
“Hey! What about me?” yelled Hidan, still praying. He sighed, and went back to work. His belly grumbled.
Itachi went off to see his optometrist, and Kisame followed him.
Pein sighed and got up.
Konan was asleep. She didn’t wake up until later.
----
comment, will you please?
To Begin
Have you ever been absolutely obsessed with something?
....yeah, well, anyway...
My current (main) obsession is Naruto.
More specifically, fanfiction.
My best friend Burokun (Brooke, but it's more fun to call her something that makes no sense) and I do a lot of writing, and I do plenty by myself.
I hope you all like it!
and before i forget:
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto, any of the characters, or anything else mentioned here. I do own the plot, but that's about it.
Some of this material may not be suitable for all ages.
(no worries, it's mostly worksafe :D)
....yeah, well, anyway...
My current (main) obsession is Naruto.
More specifically, fanfiction.
My best friend Burokun (Brooke, but it's more fun to call her something that makes no sense) and I do a lot of writing, and I do plenty by myself.
I hope you all like it!
and before i forget:
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto, any of the characters, or anything else mentioned here. I do own the plot, but that's about it.
Some of this material may not be suitable for all ages.
(no worries, it's mostly worksafe :D)
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